“You’re wrong.”
Melissa’s nostrils flared as she studied Deena. She started to say something but stopped. She leaned the broom against the wall and walked off to the back room of the shop.
Deena could feel the intensity rise again but kept her cool. She walked over to the reception desk. “Could you do me a favor? Please ask around to see if anyone recognizes this man. There’s a number on the bottom they can call.”
Kristy followed Deena out the door and led her around the side of the shop away from the front windows. “After what happened last spring, I’m surprised you’re investigating another murder.”
Before Deena could explain, Kristy continued. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know that Melissa has been acting a little strange since this thing happened Monday.”
“It’s not that surprising considering one of her clients is dead.”
“Yeah, except she hated Alexis Dekker.”
“How do you know?”
“She complained about her all the time. Not that I blame her. For one, the woman insisted on coming in on Monday nights when the shop was closed. She must have thought she was too good to be here with the regulars. Also, she never liked the way Melissa did her hair and told her so.”
“Then why did Melissa keep her as a client?”
“Because, the woman paid her a hundred dollars extra for working on Mondays. Like the rest of us, Melissa needed the extra cash.”
“You don’t think Melissa did something to cause the accident, do you?”
“No, of course not. But...”
“What is it?”
“Well, you saw how defensive she was. She’s been acting that way all week. She won’t talk to any of us. It’s unnatural, ya know?”
“I suppose.”
“Look, I gotta go before Mrs. Waldrop turns into Strawberry Shortcake. I just thought you should know.”
Kristy scooted around the corner and left Deena to muddle over the information.
One of the reasons Deena liked Kristy was because she was cool-headed and didn’t spread baseless gossip. Sure, she knew all the latest town dirt, but she didn’t blab about it to her clients. She didn’t seem to take delight in other people’s misery as some people did.
So for her to talk about Melissa like that meant she must really be bothered. Should Deena tell Ian about it? Detective Guttman? The last thing she wanted was to take the heat off Cliff just to turn it up on another innocent person.
For now, she would keep the info to herself. Russell didn’t need to know either. She trusted her brother, of course, but he seemed desperate to help his friend. She was afraid of what he might do with this new information.
Chapter 8
Deena’s cell phone rang about the time she caught up to Russell who hadn’t had any luck tracking down the elusive stranger either. She was surprised to see it was Gary calling.
“Hey, are you still with Russell?” he asked.
“Yep. We are over by the salon. Why?”
“I came home for lunch and something seems to be wrong with the sink. It’s backing up, and the disposer just growls when I turn it on. I tried turning that crank-thingy, but nothing happened.”
Deena pictured Gary wearing his dress pants, trying to get on the floor to check the garbage disposer without messing up his clothes.
“Do you think Russell would mind coming over to have a look at it?” he asked.
“I’ll ask him.” Deena had a suspicion of what the problem was but didn’t want to get into it. “See you tonight.”
Even though they were very different in their interests and their ways of doing things, in some ways, Russell and Gary were a lot alike. They’d both give you the shirt off their back, it was just that Gary would wash and iron his first. Russell liked working with his hands; Gary liked keeping his clean. Deena knew she was lucky to have both her husband and her brother around.
Deena shuddered. Maybe that was the situation with Max Dekker. He had two women in his life to serve different needs. One thing she knew for sure: The woman he was kissing was definitely not his sister.
“IT LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE poured glue down here,” Russell said as he shined a flashlight into the sink drain.
Debating whether to tell him what she did, Deena finally decided to ’fess up. “It’s not glue. Actually, it’s divinity.”
“You mean, like the candy?”
“Yep. I was making it this morning when you called and it overcooked so I had to throw it out but it started to harden so I turned on the disposer and then—”
Russell held up his hand. “Stop. I get it. You fried the disposer motor, so I’ll have to replace it. I’ll take out the broken one and go to the hardware store to buy a new one.”
“You’re the best,” Deena said. “Would you care if I run up to the thrift store to talk to Sandra while you do that? I’ll pay you back for the new one.”
“No problem,” he said. “I’ll get my toolbox out of the trunk.”
Deena tossed Hurley a treat. “Be back soon, buddy.”
Hurley knew the routine. He walked over to a small rug near the fireplace, took a few turns, and plopped down to wait for her return.
Russell came back in with his tools and got right to work.
She grabbed her latest Kate Spade purse as Russell mumbled something from under the sink.
Deena rarely worried about her safety in the suburbs. Driving into her neighborhood was like being tucked into bed for a good night’s sleep. Sure, Maycroft had some of the same issues as Dallas and Houston, but everything was on a much smaller scale.
As she pulled out of the driveway, Christy Ann was getting out of her car, her youngest of three children in tow. The other two must be in school. The little girl had ponytails with a bow as big as her head. It was a wonder she could keep her head upright.
Deena drove into town anxious to see her friend. Sandra was about fifteen years younger than Deena and had happily become pregnant with her first child back in the spring. Although Deena had a niece and two nephews from Gary’s sister, they lived out of state, which made it harder to dote on them.
Sandra’s baby would be the closest she would ever come to having a grandchild, and Deena had already made up her mind to shower the baby with love and gifts. After all, Sandra was her best friend and more like a sister at times.
She pulled up in front of the thrift shop and parked among several other cars. Deena was glad to see business booming. That meant more money to support the animal shelter.
The bells on the door jingled as Deena went inside. Sandra was behind the cash register helping a customer. At six months pregnant, she was glowing like a disco ball, sending sparkles all around the shop. She glanced up at Deena and smiled.
Deena pointed to her favorite aisle where Sandra kept the glass items and knick-knacks and headed that direction. Since she had spent most of the summer paring her backlog of inventory down from Mount Everest to Bunker Hill, it was time to hunt for more treasures for her antique booth.
An old Swiss music box caught her eye. It was like one her mother kept on the dresser when she was growing up. She and Gary were making plans to visit her parents in Hawaii for the holidays. Maybe she should buy the music box as a gift for her mother.
“Boo!”
Deena spun around to see Sandra standing behind her. “Lord have mercy! You don’t need to be scaring me like that. Bladder control is one of the casualties of old age, you know.”
“And of pregnancy.”
Deena took a step back. “Well, I’m glad to see you are finally showing. Now both of us have a potbelly. You look great, by the way.” She patted Sandra’s stomach.
“Aw, shucks. Follow me.” Sandra led the way to the front counter and climbed onto her stool.
Deena set the music box down and looked around for nearby customers. Not seeing any, she leaned in and whispered, “So what’s the latest on Alexis Dekker’s murder? Has Ian talked to the detective or the DA?”
“Y
ou know I’m not allowed to tell you confidential information.” Sandra leaned in. “But they do have another suspect.”
“Max Dekker, right?”
“No. It’s a man from Houston. That’s all I could get out of Ian.”
Deena rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Your husband is so ethical. Sometimes it’s annoying.”
“Tell me about it,” Sandra said. “He insinuated that there was probably more information online, but I haven’t had time to check. Between the store, doctor’s appointments, and getting the nursery ready, I haven’t had time to do much of anything.”
“Well, I’ve got nothing but time. I’ll look as soon as I get home.”
“I thought you were writing a novel? What happened to that idea?”
“I’ve only been to one class and have no idea if there will even be another.”
“Maybe you can write about Mrs. Fitzhugh’s murder. That would make a great story.”
“Nah. Nobody would believe it. I have been tossing around a few ideas, though.”
“Can I be a character in your book? Pa-leeeese?”
“We’ll see. After all, every crime fighter needs a side-kick.”
Sandra got up to unlock the dressing room for a customer.
The sight of her from the side brought a grin to Deena’s face. She couldn’t wait to see that baby.
“Do you know the gender yet?” Deena asked as Sandra sat back down. “You promised you would tell me as soon as you found out.”
“Ian and I decided we wanted to be surprised.”
Deena’s mouth dropped open.
“Then we changed our minds. We will find out at my appointment next week.”
Deena clapped her hands like a kid at the circus. “Yay! Auntie Deena wants to start buying clothes and toys.”
“Speaking of Auntie Deena, I have a big—I mean, really big favor to ask.”
Here it was. Sandra was going to ask her and Gary to be the baby’s godparents. What would she say? Yes, of course. But that was a huge responsibility. She should probably talk it over with Gary. But Gary would agree with whatever she wanted.
“Yoo-hoo. Deena?” Sandra waved her hand in front of Deena’s face.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, returning from her stupor. “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes to your question.”
“But you don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
Deena smiled and tilted her head. “So ask.”
Sandra cleared her throat. “I wanted to know if you would be willing to take over the store for a while when the baby is born?”
Deena felt her face drop and start to flush.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but you’re the only person I trust. Plus you’re retired—except for this new writing gig.”
Deena blinked her eyes and then stared at her friend.
“Never mind. Sorry I asked. I can just close the shop for a few months.” Sandra put her head down and fiddled with a receipt book.
“No. I mean, yes. Of course, I’ll do it. I’d be glad to help.”
“Really?” The shine returned to Sandra’s face. She shuffled around the counter and threw her arms around Deena. “I knew I could count on you.”
Deena’s breathing returned to normal, although the disappointment still pinched her chest. “This means I get first choice at buying the donated goodies, right?”
“We’ll see about that. You have to realize that it’s not all glittery treasure that comes through here. You should have seen the greasy handkerchief I pulled out of a box of designer women clothes left outside the back door this morning.”
“Designer clothes? Anything my size?”
“I haven’t had a chance to go through them yet. You can sneak back there and look on the rack by the door.”
Deena loved the perks of being best friends with the storeowner. Knowing Sandra, though, she would still charge her the same as any customer. Since the money went to the animal shelter, Sandra would ask top dollar for designer clothes.
Deena instantly recognized the labels on the high-end clothes. “St. John, Ann Taylor, Armani.” Something stopped her. She gasped and stared at the label neatly stitched inside the dark gray suit jacket. It read: Made exclusively for Alexis Dekker.
SOMETHING NAGGED AT her as she drove home. Why would Max Dekker have already gotten rid of his wife’s clothes? If he were guilty of murder, that would look awfully suspicious. Did he think no one would recognize them? For a man who wrote murder mysteries, that would seem like a totally amateur move. And what about the greasy handkerchief? Who would stick that in there with all those gorgeous suits and dresses?
Something didn’t add up. As soon as she could, she would go online and see what she could find out about this suspect from Houston. She was surprised that Russell’s car was gone when she pulled back into the garage. That was quick, even with his experience fixing things.
As she sat in the car, she made a decision. She texted Sandra. “Tell Ian about getting Alexis’s clothes at the thrift store.” Ian might think nothing of it, or he might act on it. Either way, it was one less thing for Deena to wonder about.
The phone in the bedroom was ringing when she walked into the house. She charged that direction, nearly tripping over Hurley. It stopped ringing before she could get to it. She sat on the bed catching her breath. It was time to start exercising again, that was for certain, especially if she were going to go back to work. Had she really agreed to mind the store for Sandra when the baby came? What was she thinking? Retirement life had made her fat and happy.
Her cell phone rang this time. “Russell? Did you just call my home phone?”
“Yes. You didn’t answer.”
“Stop doing that. Always call my cell.”
“So why do you still bother having a land-line?”
“I use it to call my cell phone when I can’t find it.”
“Whatever. I called to tell you I haven’t replaced the disposer yet. I went to the hardware store. They were way overcharging for them. I’ll get one from Cliff at wholesale and install it in the morning.”
“Sounds good. Gives me an excuse to go out to dinner.”
“Oh, I forgot something. I turned off your water at the street. The shut-off valve under the sink was broken. I’ll replace that in the morning, too. Don’t turn it back on or you’ll flood the kitchen.”
“So does that mean we have no water?”
“Yeah, but it’s only for one night. Pretend you’re a pioneer. It’ll be fine.”
Deena wasn’t so sure. Immediately, a desert formed in her throat. Hopefully, there was still iced tea in the fridge. She got a pack of bottled water from the garage and put it in the refrigerator to chill. That should do it. Her worry finally subsided.
Ice cubes tinkled in the glass as she sat down at the desk in her office. It had been a while since she had researched anything other than the prices of her newly found treasures. She put in Max Dekker’s name and up came hundreds of listings involving his various mystery novels. Obviously, she wasn’t going to wade through all that.
Wikipedia, the nemesis of every high school teacher, had always been her best friend when doing her own research (although she would never have admitted it to her students). She found the profile on Max and read it closely.
The details of his early life were unremarkable. He was born in El Paso and had attended the University of Texas where he taught creative writing before hitting it big with his first novel. He moved to Manhattan and married his literary agent, Alexis Jamison. They divorced after eighteen years of marriage.
He later married a woman named Barbara Conroy. The article contained no specific details about this second wife. Deena scrolled back to the top to see if it listed any children for Max Dekker. There were none. She continued reading where she had left off.
After just two years with his second wife, he divorced her and re-married Alexis. And they say women are fickle. He must have had some sort of mid-life crisis. P
robably thought the grass was greener on the other side of the fence. Men.
Deena thought about Gary and his impending birthday. She had anticipated he might go through some sort of crisis at fifty, but it didn’t happen. At fifty-five, nothing. Here he was about to turn sixty. The clock was ticking. But this was Gary. Calm, rational Gary. Surely, he would remain the same man she married all those years ago.
She turned her attention back to the Dekkers. Nowhere in the article did it mention Houston. She decided to add it to Google as a search term. Listings for his best-seller Bounty Beyond the Border came up. She quickly scanned the first article. The book was set in Houston.
Ugh. That was no help. She scrolled through and found other stories, book signings, and speaking engagements in Houston.
The low hum of the garage door opening signaled Gary’s arrival. He came through the door, and she looked up just in time to see him zoom past the office door and shout, “Hi, hon” on his way to the bedroom. She instantly knew what that meant. Nothing newsworthy there.
Duh, she thought and slapped her forehead. She was looking for something news worthy. She added “Houston Chronicle” as a search term. There among the book reviews, a headline that attracted her attention—“Copycat Murder Mirrors Bestselling Novel.”
She opened the article and waited for it to load. Could this be it? She read the brief news story. It detailed a crime where a woman was murdered by gang member initiates in the same way Max Dekker had described a killing in his Houston-based novel. The victim’s husband was quoted as blaming Dekker for giving them the idea. The police detective who investigated the crime said it was highly unlikely that the wanna-be gang members were “avid readers,” and it was likely just a coincidence. The article stated that there was no comment given by the author.
“Deena,” Gary shouted from the back of the house.
She recognized that as her husband’s “the-dog-has-torn-something-up-again” call.
Hurley sat at her feet and stared with his pitiful brown eyes.
“Come on,” she said. “You need to apologize.” As she approached the bedroom, an acrid odor made her nostrils flare. “Hurley! Bad boy.” She looked around the floor for a mess.
Cozy Suburbs Mystery Box Set Page 55