Corpse in the Crystal Ball (10 page)

I was pretty sure her message had to do with her claims that someone was after her and Mitch wasn’t taking her seriously. He left her alone, left town completely, and then she died. History had repeated itself, and she knew how much that would hurt him.

Isabel must have known in her heart that Mitch wasn’t serious when he threatened her. Forgiving him for not protecting her was her way of releasing him from carrying that burden around with him as well. Only, if she truly knew him, then she would know that would never happen. He would never stop until her killer was brought to justice.

Just like he had never stopped searching for whoever killed his sister.

So why hadn’t Isabel written the killer’s name as well? I refused to believe Mitch was the killer. Maybe she’d tried to write the killer’s name next before death had claimed her. In the end, all she’d managed to do was cast suspicion on Mitch.

I knew Mitch didn’t want anyone to know about his sister—especially me—because that would make him vulnerable …human. Also, I had promised Isabel I would keep that information to myself, which put me in a tough position now. I was trying to prove the knucklehead’s innocence. I had to say something.

“I talked to Detective Stone last night,” I finally said, causing Fuller to raise a shaggy blond brow. “He said Ms. Gonzales claimed someone was after her, but he thought it was just a ploy to get him to take her back. Protect her. That’s probably what her message had to do with. He says he didn’t see or talk to her again after their argument, and then he took a couple vacation days and left town but came back early. Do you honestly think Detective Stone killed Ms. Gonzales?”

Detective Fuller sat silent for a while. “Stone’s only been here for a little over a year. I don’t know much about him other than he got a promotion I was up for.” Fuller rubbed his jaw. “Doesn’t seem right, but whatever. He seems okay. He does have a temper, though. Keeps to himself a lot. Doesn’t really let anyone get to know him. I have to admit the evidence against him is pretty incriminating.”

“But it’s all circumstantial,” I said.

“True, but it does sound like he had motive to want her out of his life. Like I said, Ms. Gonzales managed to stir up a whole lot of emotions in a number of Divinians during her short stay here. This could be a crime of passion.”

“I agree,” I replied. “Detective Stone is passionate, but murder?”

“The problem is the detective has no alibi. Says he stayed in an old hunting cabin up in the Adirondacks his friend owns and lets him use whenever he wants, but the detective can’t prove it. The friend is out of the country, and Detective Stone never called him. The murder weapon is missing, but at least his apartment and car turned up clean.”

“I know the man is frustrating and stubborn beyond belief, but I also know he’s no killer.” I leaned across the table and made eye contact. “Just so you know, I intend to clear his name.”

Detective Fuller shrugged. “Makes no difference to me as long as we catch the bad guy.”

“Good. Where do we start?”

“At the beginning. Let’s check out the Divinity Hotel. See if she left any clues behind.”

“Done.”

Divinity was an old-fashioned town with big Victorian homes and various businesses that showcased different eras throughout history. Some of the newer businesses that had sprung up had modern decors, but the older buildings held tightly to history and tradition.

The Divinity Hotel was small but quaint and showcased the Art Deco style of the 1930s inspired by the artists of Paris. The streamlined, polished look only added to the hotel’s appeal. Lacquered wood furniture combined with brushed steel and lined with exotic zebra skin upholstery was scattered about the lobby. Colorful starburst motifs in
exotic greens and oranges with small amounts of black and gold arranged in geometric shapes covered the floors and walls. But what caught the eye the most was the fireplace.

It wasn’t just a fireplace used for heat. It was the focal point of the lobby. The centerpiece. A combination of mahogany, walnut, and oak wood was used to create the mantel because these woods were easy to carve and featured contrasting grains as part of the design. Carved beading, flowers, and leaves lined the frieze, and a beveled mirror was built right into the center, surrounded by hand-painted tiles.

It really was a sight to behold.

“Welcome to the Divinity Hotel. My name is Johnny Burrows. How can I help you?” a young man in his early twenties with red hair, glasses, and freckles asked from behind the front desk. His uniform was crisp and sharply pressed, his shoes shined to perfection.

“Morning, Mr. Burrows.” Detective Fuller showed him his badge. “I was wondering if we could ask you some questions about Isabel Gonzales. She stayed here for a couple weeks, and she was found murdered yesterday afternoon.”

Johnny’s freckles stood out as his face drained of color.

“It’s all right, Johnny.” An average-sized man with a brown military-style haircut and a stocky frame patted Johnny’s shoulder. “I’ve got this one.”

Johnny nodded, and the man headed toward a room in the back. “Follow me. We can talk in my office.”

We did as he requested, and he closed the door behind us. After we were all seated, he said, “I’m Chuck Webb, the owner of the Divinity Hotel. What’s this all about?”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Webb. I’m Detective Fuller and
this is my assistant, Miss Meadows.” The detective flashed his badge once more, and I handed Chuck one of my cards.

The detective looked at me in surprise, which quickly turned to an impressed expression. What was it with detectives and the word
partner
? Or was it just me? None of them seemed to be capable of accepting me as an equal. I knew I wasn’t a detective, but I
was
a consultant. Weren’t we supposed to be working together? Oh well, at least this detective was more pleasant to deal with. He’d even liked my cards, so that was a plus.

“I’ve heard of you, Miss Meadows.” Chuck studied my card. “You’re that psychic down at the end of Shadow Lane. You did a group reading for a couple of my guests recently, and they couldn’t stop raving about you.”

I smiled. “Thank you.” I watched him closely as I added nonchalantly, “I also did a reading for another one of your guests about a week ago. A woman by the name of Isabel Gonzales.”

His face turned hard. “Ah, yes. Ms. Gonzales. I heard about what happened to her yesterday. It doesn’t surprise me. That woman was nothing but trouble.”

Detective Fuller perked up. “Really, how so?” He pulled out his notebook and pen.

“I put up with that demanding woman’s complaints for over two weeks. She offered to pay me double if I let her pay cash at the end of her stay. I stupidly agreed, and then she stiffed me. Just packed up and left without checking out. By the time I noticed, it was too late. I always say karma will get you every time.”

“How’d you hurt your hand, Mr. Webb?” I asked.

“Stupid woman made me so mad I punched my fist
through the wall of her room.” He rubbed his bruised knuckles.

“Interesting, considering Ms. Gonzales was beaten before she was strangled,” Detective Fuller pointed out.

Chuck Webb blinked and then rubbed his forehead.

“You feel okay?” Fuller asked.

“Just a bit of a headache,” Webb answered.

“Where exactly were you on the night of the murder around six?” I asked all sweet and innocent-like.

Webb’s eyes cut to mine, flashed once, and then he cleared his throat. “Well, um, after Ms. Gonzales bailed on me, I searched around town for her, but I couldn’t find her. I gave up, bought a patch kit from Gary’s Hardware Store, and patched the wall that evening so I could rent her room out the next day.”

“I assume you can verify that?” Fuller asked.

“Johnny,” Webb hollered.

Within seconds, Johnny opened the door to the office. “Yes, Mr. Webb?”

Chuck looked the boy in the eye. “Two nights ago I patched the wall in room fifty-six B around six o’clock and I was here the whole time. Wasn’t I?”

Johnny’s eyes darted to the detective, then to me, and then back to Chuck Webb. “Yes, sir. Will that be all?”

Chuck nodded once. “Thank you, Mr. Burrows. You may go now.” After Johnny left, Chuck turned to the detective. “You might want to check the cab companies. Ms. Gonzales didn’t have a car. She couldn’t have gone far on foot.”

“We’ll do that,” I said, and stood, holding out my hand. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Webb. You have a nice day now. And take care of that headache.”

Webb shook my hand and took the card the detective handed him.

“If you think of anything else, be sure to give us a call.”

He nodded, seeming only too happy to walk us out the door.

“I guess that rules him out,” Detective Fuller said, making a note in his notebook.

“I guess so, but something seems off about him.” I chewed my lip, making mental notes of my own.

“Maybe so, but I can tell you what’s off for me—my stomach. I say it’s time for lunch.”

Detective Stone was wrong. Lack of ambition wasn’t Detective Fuller’s problem. An insatiable appetite was.

Looked like I was on my own.

“Stop, stop, stop, stop,
stoppp
!” I screamed as I slapped both palms on the dash of my bug and squeezed my eyes shut. I jerked forward, my seat belt snapping tight, and my neck aching already.

“Well, my goodness, dear, you didn’t have to shout,” Granny said, as though our lives hadn’t nearly ended.

I pried my eyes open one at a time and my shoulders wilted in relief. My bug sat at an odd angle, only half off the driveway this time and a good foot away from my front porch instead of a mere inch.

“I do believe I’m getting better, don’t you think?” She beamed a smile at me as she untied her plastic rain cap and fluffed her white hair to perfection.

“A little, I guess,” I said weakly, opening my door and climbing out into the sunshine on shaky knees.

Lord help us all if that woman ever passes her road test.

“Tonight’s Bunco. I’m going in to get ready to play cards at Lulubelle’s, Granny. Jo’s picking me up in a little while, so don’t worry about me for dinner.”

“Well, fiddlesticks.” Granny followed me inside and donned her apron once more to finish her baking, no doubt. It was Thursday, after all.

“
Why
fiddlesticks?”

“That nice young man Kevin Brown called earlier looking for you, but you were busy with Detective Fuller. So I invited him for dinner. Your mother called again, too, and she can’t wait to meet him.”

My mother calling again when I wasn’t home didn’t surprise me. She didn’t want to talk to me. She just wanted to know my business. Suddenly, Granny’s words registered.

“You whaaat?” My stomach flipped.

I liked Kevin. He was handsome and sweet and an all-around nice guy. I’d made the dinner date with him when I thought Mitch had betrayed me by going away with Isabel. Then I thought Kevin had stood me up and was no better than Mitch, but the poor guy had been mauled by a dog and had been trying to make it up to me ever since. But once I found out Mitch hadn’t betrayed me with Isabel, either, I kind of wanted to give him another shot instead of Kevin.

My love life was a mess!

Frankly, solving a murder case was easier to deal with right now. “Sorry, Granny, but I already committed to Belle. Give my apologies to Kevin.”

“Well, that’s a fine fiddle-dee-dee. What am I supposed to do with Kevin after breaking his heart for you?”

“I don’t know. Don’t you have a cookie for that?”

“You know …I think I do. Good idea, dearie.”

Granny headed off to the kitchen, humming a lively tune, while I jogged up the stairs to change. When I entered my bedroom, Morty sat in the center of my huge four-poster king-sized bed with a pea green striped bow tie around his neck and a hundred-dollar bill in his mouth.

“Morty, you naughty boy.” I snatched the money, and I swear he narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t you get hoity-toity with me, mister. You might think you own this place, but you don’t own everything. You’ll give Granny Gert palpitations for sure if she finds out you took her money.”

Granny had money now that my grandfather had passed away, but she hadn’t always. She also came from the old school of thought. Hold on to your cash. She hated banks and always kept her money in odd places like shoe boxes in closets and between the mattresses of her bed. But make no bones about it, she knew exactly how much she had, right down to her last penny.

I peeked out into the hallway to make sure she hadn’t come upstairs, and then I hurried into her bedroom and stuffed the money into her drawer. At her age she wouldn’t remember if she’d put it there or not. As long as her total came out the same, everything would be fine.

Scurrying back to my room, I found Morty looking at me with what could only be described as pity. Ha. If he looked in the mirror at how ridiculous he looked wearing those humongous god-awful bow ties, he would realize I should be the one pitying him.

Let’s just say Granny could cook better than she could sew.

If I didn’t know better, I would swear Morty shook his
head at me. Then he haughtily walked out of the room as if dealing with me took too much effort. I’d have to make it up to him later.

I snatched random clothes from various ornately carved chests and bureaus scattered about my room. Quickly, I changed behind the freestanding screen that hid the washstand, washbowl, and chamber pot from long ago. Finally, I dashed down the stairs just as the doorbell rang. I peeked out the window and let out a huge breath. Jo wagged her fingers in hello.

“See you, Granny,” I hollered, then added, “Sorry, Morty.” I whipped the door open, ran past Jo, and hopped in her car.

“Okay, what was
that
all about?” she asked as she slid back into the driver’s seat.

“Just drive. I’ll tell you on the way. And hurry.”

She did as I asked, and we passed Kevin on the main road. He didn’t see us, thank God. She craned her neck and did a double take. “Wasn’t that—”

“Kevin Brown? Yes.”

“Did he have—”

“Another bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates on the seat? Yes and yes.”