“No. Always mystifies me when the detective in a movie or on TV knows right away if he’s getting the straight scoop. Once in a while, I’m fairly confident I can tell, but not always.”
“That said, I don’t think the roommate did it," said Lou. “She's been working double shifts at Wendy's. She has an alibi for the time that Kathy died. A full shift saw her at work. Besides, if she did kill Kathy, why not dump the body and keep the car? Darcy doesn’t have any transportation. Unless she can bum a ride, she walks to work. Kathy was paying for the apartment. By killing Kathy, Darcy lost her meal ticket, so to speak. She doesn't have motive; in fact, she had every reason to want Kathy to stay alive."
"What did the search of the car turn up?”
“Nothing so far,” said Lou. “It had been wiped clean and vacuumed before we got to it. Looks like a professional job. Since Kathy was wrapped in plastic, there was very little in the trunk. The techs will keep at it, though.”
“Kathy threatened Cara,” Davidson said, “and that tells us something about her character. Our victim wasn’t above using blackmail to get what she wanted. In this case, it was nothing more than a photo, but what if she’d resorted to coercion before? What if it backfired? Her job was all about collecting information and using it.”
“Right,” said Lou. “Ollie has been looking over the information on her laptop, but so far, he hasn’t been able to access all the files. Could be that she also has notes on one of the computers at work. He and I are going to the Shoreline News office first thing tomorrow morning. I tried to track down her boss yesterday, but he was out of town. Didn’t answer my calls either. Two people who worked with Kathy Simmons should be there tomorrow, and with any luck, her boss will be back, too.”
“Good,” said Davidson.
The two men stood beside their police cruisers and kept talking. “What happened to the photo that Kathy Simmons bought from Cara?” asked Davidson.
“I’m trying to track that down,” said Lou. “By all accounts, it wasn’t anything special. Kathy told Cara she wanted it for her mother’s birthday.”
“If you need more resources, let me know.” Davidson patted the roof of his car to signal their meeting was over.
CHAPTER 31
~Cara~
I couldn’t believe it when Jason handed me the bouquet of roses. I stopped myself before I squealed with joy.
“What a surprise! These are lovely! My favorites,” I said, lowering my face to the cool petals and inhaling deeply. The flowers’ scent was as powerful as their beauty.
“I thought they might cheer you up,” he said. “I bumped into Sid as he was getting off his bike. At first, I thought he might be your son. Then he introduced himself and told me about the break in. You’ve certainly had a rough couple of days.”
“You can say that again. Look, I don’t know whether I thanked you enough for taking care of me when I fainted, but I really appreciated your concern. And it’s nice of you to take the time to drop by tonight,” I said. “Of course, the flowers are OTT, as my son Tommy would say.”
“OTT?” He looked different in his dressy casual clothes. Jason’s charcoal gray shirt was tucked neatly into a pair of black slacks cinched with a black alligator belt.
“Over the top, as in too wonderful for words. Do you mind going with me into the back so I can put them in water?”
“Of course not.” As we walked together, he said, “This store is really something. I didn’t get the chance to look around when I came through yesterday. The black ribbons are a nice touch. Classy.”
“It seemed like the least we could do."
"The funeral will be Monday. Would you care to go with me? I feel awkward going alone, since I didn't know her," he said and paused, "but I feel like I owe her that. Under the circumstances."
"That’s how I feel, too, and I don't want to go by myself either."
"Good. It’s settled. I’ll phone you with a time for picking you up." He shifted his weight, as a prelude to changing the subject. "How long have you owned this place?”
“Four months.” As I filled a vase with water, I gave him a thumbnail version of how I happened to buy The Treasure Chest. Realizing I’d monopolized the conversation, I asked, “Were you able to get any work done yesterday?”
“No.” He gave me a half-smile. “Instead I bought the crew a couple rounds of beer. Today we were back at it early. I hope the noise hasn't been too much of a distraction.”
“Not so far, but there’s nothing that can be done about it anyway, is there? We both have jobs to do.”
“You probably need to get back to your guests,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “I probably do. Have you had anything to eat? Follow me to the food.”
Once we were back on the sales floor, I spotted a familiar figure and waved him over. “Jason, have you met my grandfather? Dick Potter?”
Poppy was spiffed up for the event. When I hugged him, I caught a scent of the nice men’s cologne I’d given him for Christmas. My grandfather shook Jason’s hand. “We’ve met. How’s it going, son?”
“We had a slight hiccup, but we’re back at it,” said Jason.
“Poppy, you’re back early from your trip. Wasn’t the fishing any good?”
“Storm blowing in from the Bahamas. Decided I’d rather be here than there. Besides, I wanted to see that there display you’ve been making such a fuss about.” Poppy’s eyes twinkled with good humor.
“Jason? Would you show Poppy the photos?” I asked. “I think I need to mingle.”
“Before you go, how’s Squirt?” My grandfather grabbed me by the elbow.
“Squirt” was my grandfather’s new nickname for Tommy.
“Not good,” I said, lowering my voice.
“How come?”
“Poppy’s asking about my son,” I explained to Jason. “Tommy’s a freshman at University of Miami. He got his first semester grades, and they weren’t very good. He’d warned me this was coming—and he’s the first to admit he spent too much time partying and not enough doing his studies. But Dom—that's my ex—blew a gasket. He says he won’t pay for Tommy’s next year at school.”
Jason frowned. “After one semester? When the kid admitted he goofed up?”
“I’ve got half a mind to drive up to St. Louis and pound that ex-husband of yours into the ground. He ain’t worth the dirt under his feet,” said Poppy, tucking his thumbs into his waistband.
“I know.”
Philomena Humberger, a local real estate agent, waltzed over and cornered me.
“Cara, you’ve outdone yourself!” she said. “The store looks fabulous! I can’t believe all the wonderful photos you’ve collected. Cooper and I have the most wonderful news.”
She and Cooper were partners in securing a Fill Up and Go franchise. Originally they'd planned to tear down The Treasure Chest and replace it with the new facility. But I'd scooped up this property and made a deal with them to take over Poppy's old gas station instead.
Almost on cue, my old boyfriend stepped to her side. My heart crowded my throat at the sight of him. I could feel my face turning scarlet, and my heart beating at twice its normal rate, so I focused on Philomena.
"We wanted you to know that the funding came through for excavating those leaking gas tanks under Dick’s Gas E Bait. I already told your grandfather, but I knew that it was worrying you. Isn’t that wonderful? That old gas station won’t be polluting our environment anymore, and your grandfather won’t have to foot the entire bill."
On my list of things to fret over, the leaking gas tanks had slid to the bottom of the pile. But she was right, before the mess with Kathy and the break-in, I had been concerned about the old tanks. When Poppy had learned about the leak, he stopped refilling them with gas rather than getting them fixed. While that was one way to stop the flow of gasoline into the environment, it certainly wasn’t an ideal solution.
"That's great news," I said, trying not to look at Cooper.
�
�Good to see you, Cara,” he said. “Glad to see that the glass worked out.”
“The glass?”
“MJ called. I sent a truck and a crew over.”
“I didn’t know. Thank you."
“She didn’t say how it came to be broken,” he continued.
“An accident.”
An uncomfortable silence would have ensued had Philomena not chattered on and on about one thing after another. I gave her the briefest nods of encouragement and did my best not to look at Cooper.
My mother had conspired with my father to get me out of Florida, to keep me away from Cooper, because she feared I’d get pregnant just as she had. Over the next two years, I gave up on my first love, married the wrong man, had a baby, and got a divorce. As time passed, I had concluded that Cooper must have moved on with his life, too. But when I moved back to Stuart, we bumped into each other and sparks flew.
Each time I thought I was over him, his presence melted all my carefully constructed emotional reserve. While Philomena chattered on and on, I could feel myself growing smaller and weaker.
As if summoned by a magic, Honora appeared at my side. "Cara Mia? I have someone for you to meet. If you’ll excuse us," she said to Cooper and Philomena, as she smoothly guided me away.
Blinking back tears, I let her shepherd me off the sales floor. With a deft move, she closed the door to our private space.
"Take a deep breath and put some starch into your panties," she said.
"B-b-but—"
"But nothing. That man's fiancée was standing on the other side of the room glaring at you. While Cooper Rivers has 'love' written all over his face, you have 'despair' on yours, and she was seething with anger. She might have his ring, but you have his heart. He’s acting like a total ninny. Putting up with her and her nonsense. Are you really interested in a man who can’t stand up for what he wants?"
"How…?" I could only muster one word. I hadn't seen Jodi in the crowd. Frankly, I was glad I hadn't.
"Little girl, this is a small town. Everyone knows what happened between you and Cooper. The receptionist in his office is a big blabbermouth. To make it worse, you two are giving everyone a front row seat to high drama. Didn’t you notice that all the conversations came to a grinding halt while you two faced off? People were waiting for you to melt into a puddle. And you almost did. For goodness sake, child, show some spunk!"
To my shock, she leaned over and shook me hard enough to make my teeth rattle. Instinctively, I pushed back.
“Oh, my, gosh, I am so sorry!” I said, as she took a stumbling step to regain her balance.
"Don't worry about it! I'd rather see you angry than acting like a whipped puppy. Cara, I am not a feeble old lady. Not by a long shot." Squaring her shoulders, she said, "Don't waste your time on a man who's not willing to fight for you. Because while you're wasting your time, there's a man out there who'll be your champion. Now duck into the bathroom and fix up your face. A good coat of war paint always makes it easier to face down your enemies.”
CHAPTER 32
~Cara~
The bathroom mirror showed that my lipstick had faded. A fleck of mascara rested on my cheek. Dark circles under my eyes gave me a vampire-ish look.
We kept a stash of girly products in a basket under the sink. In it were thrown any samples we came across. I found a small block of blusher that put a healthy glow on my skin. Then I dipped into a sample of Cotillion by Bulgari, my new favorite fragrance. The heady mix of flowers and musk tones makes me feel elegant.
It had never occurred to me that I might have to fight for Cooper. Why hadn't I thought of that? I was only sixteen when my parents whisked me away from him. Now I was thirty-seven, and who was I going to blame if I lost him again?
Not Mom. Not Dad.
Just me, myself, and I.
Honora was right: Jodi should be worried, because Cooper looked like a starving dog on the end of a frayed rope. If the rope unraveled, he'd run off and to find what he really wanted…me! It was up to me to cut those threads. I had to claim what was mine! Cooper and I were meant to be together. He'd said as much. He'd also hinted at a dark reason that kept him bound to Jodi's side.
What was it?
I lifted my chin. I'd find out what made him afraid to leave her. I would not lose him a second time. Especially not to my sister. I didn't know a lot about Jodi, but I knew that a.) she didn't love Cooper for himself, b.) she wasn't a nice person, and c.) she was conniving.
Honora had reminded me that I didn't need to roll over, bare my jugular vein, and wet the floor. I could ruffle up my fur and growl. I could claim what was mine—and while I was at it, I'd also show that no good, sleezeball ex-husband of mine that I was tired of him playing games with our son. That nonsense had to stop. I was tired of being treated as an afterthought. Tired of having other people set my agenda.
The woman who walked out of the bathroom was a different sort of person than the beaten-down teenager who walked in.
She was a woman with choices.
And I had Honora to thank for that.
I walked onto the sales floor, fully expecting to encounter Cooper and Jodi. A quick scan didn't locate them. Philomena seemed to have left as well, but the place was still wall-to-wall potential customers. “Mingle, mingle, mingle,” I told myself as I moved from one knot of people to the next. Compartmentalizing was hard, but I packed my negative emotions into a box and taped it shut. I would not let Jodi defeat me. I would worry about Tommy and feel bad about Kathy Simmons some other time.
A crowd of onlookers watched as Skye demonstrated how to fuse plastic bags together. Sid darted in and out, alternately carrying trays of hors d’oeuvres and trays of beverages. MJ buzzed around, talking about our amazing recovery of Essie Feldman's lost Highwaymen paintings. And Honora? She seemed to know everybody! What a social butterfly!
“By the way,” said MJ, sidling over to me, “Honora sold a Highwayman painting by Mary Ann Carroll. That’s in addition to the two paintings another customer asked me to reserve for her and the painting that Captain Davidson wants you to pick out for him. Best of all, the night is still young.”
Indeed, it was. I checked my cell phone and noticed it was only half past seven.
“I have someone who wants to meet you,” Honora said as she, dragged me to where an older couple stood staring up at the Old Florida Photo Gallery.
“Senator Josiah Wentworth and his wife, Jenny Beth, live over on Jupiter Island,” said Honora. Neither the Senator nor his wife was wearing name badges.
They’d crashed my party.
No matter. I was still happy to have them.
Josiah Wentworth had a youthful mop of white hair, but poor posture had bent his spine so that his head jutted out at right angles from his shoulders. His wife, Jenny Beth, reminded me of a tiny bird, except on second look, she was small but strong with a muscle tone that I envied. I discounted the bird imagery. More like a hungry Florida Panther.
“These bring back memories,” said the Senator, gesturing at the pictures on the wall. “Do you have any of the white house—”
“Like ours before we remodeled it.” Jenny Beth interrupted him. “I am charmed to meet you, Cara Mia. Honora will have to bring you for a visit at our little place on the island. We have dozens of albums with pictures that you might enjoy. That will give us a chance to get to know each other better.”
“I’d like that.”
“The pictures will go in my book, isn’t that right, Jenny Beth? Are there any photos of the boys? So many of them over the years.”
Jenny Beth hurried to answer. "Although we were never blessed with children of our own, the Senator worked with so many youth groups. He was a role model for boys all over the state. That’s all fresh in his mind because he’s been working on his scrapbooks.”
"But I want to see the boys—"
"They've all grown up, darling," said Jenny Beth firmly.
"Not all of them. Some of them—"
"Have
passed on, sweetheart. We're at that age," she said, as she patted his arm. "Let's go and see the plastic bag demonstration, shall we?"
"Boys?" repeated the Senator.
"Come along, darling," said Jenny Beth.
As they toddled off, Honora shook her head. “What a shame,” she said.
CHAPTER 33
Thirty minutes later, the crowd had thinned appreciably, but we still had a significant number of guests wandering around the store. Although I was dog-tired, I talked to as many as possible.
Poppy was chatting with a trio of admiring women, who looked to be about his age. One of them tucked a small piece of paper into his shirt pocket and winked at him. Florida is chock-full of single women of a “certain age” who’ve lost the men in their lives. Now that we’d gotten my grandfather’s diabetes under control, and he is no longer working at his gas station, he has started kicking up his heels. That includes going out on the occasional date.
“I’d call this a resounding success,” said MJ, as she carried a pair of vintage palm tree salt-and-pepper shakers to our cash station. A well-dressed woman followed, carrying one of EveLynn's quilted throws.
“The sales figures will tell the tale.” I’d learned from my father not to judge an event until I’d run the numbers. “Busy” did not necessarily correlate with profitable. I’d have to deduct all our expenses to see how we’d really done.
From across the room, Skye smiled at me. The demo she’d devised had been a real hit, generating a lot of conversation about recycling. Unfortunately, plastic bags are ubiquitous in Florida. Unlike many other states, we haven’t taxed them. When they find their way onto the beach, sea turtles think they are jellyfish and gobble them down. The bags fill up their tummies, and as a result, the turtles slowly starve to death. Skye’s demo included passing out bumper stickers that read: “Recycle a bag and save a turtle.” Underneath I’d added our store details. Many of our guests pocketed these mini-signs.
All in all, it seemed we’d done what we’d set out to do. We’d introduced ourselves to new faces, sold merchandise, and positioned ourselves as “green.” Maybe I would be able to afford Tommy’s tuition after all, despite the fact I’d added two new employees to my payroll. At the very least, I could make a down payment on next year’s fees while I searched for the legal agreement that would force Dom to live up to his promise.
Second Chance at Life Page 10