CHAPTER 19
G
reg flipped burgers on the grill for dinner that evening. Even though the investigation of Kent’s murder was still in process, he’d carved out time to have dinner with me. I’d invited Aunt Jackie, but she insisted on working her normal shift with Sasha. “Your aunt was lucky today. Leaving the apartment was a smart idea.”
I sipped on the beer and let the cool liquid flow down my throat. “I was a mess.”
He closed the lid of the grill and came to sit by me. He brushed my hair back out of my face, then pulled me close and I laid my head on his shoulder. “That guy could have gone off on her, especially since she didn’t have the book. Now he’s trying to bargain with the prosecutor, saying that he’ll drop the charges on Jackie if she’ll drop the charges on him.”
“Seriously?” I sat up straight. I wanted to kill the guy and he was going to walk away scot-free?
“I didn’t say the prosecutor was taking that deal. Jackie’s lawyer turned over the evidence after signing a we-don’t-know-how-we-got-this deal. The worse Jackie will get is some community service, but I’m thinking she won’t even be charged.” Greg tucked me back under his arm. “The guy will get prison time for this, even if he pays back his marks.”
“Like Mary? She’ll get her money back?” I drank in Greg’s scent. Being close to him always seemed to calm me.
“Maybe not all of it, and definitely not soon. She needs to tell Bill what happened.” Greg tilted my chin toward him to look into my eyes. “You wouldn’t hide something like that from me, would you?”
“Of course not.”
Greg laughed. “Baby, you always hide stuff from me. If you think I’m going to be mad when you’re doing your investigation stuff, you just don’t tell me.”
“I’ve told you everything this time. At least, I think I have.” I nodded to the smoking grill. “The burgers close? I’ll open the potato salad I bought at Lille’s and dump it into a pretty bowl.”
“That’s my Suzie Homemaker.” Greg stood. “Grab me some cheese slices and a plate and we’ll be ready.”
After dinner, I made a pot of coffee and fixed Greg a thermos, packing a few cookies in a bag for him to take back to the station. I had a feeling he wasn’t the only one who would be nibbling on the chocolate chip oatmeal delights that evening. Toby was on duty and they were his favorite, too.
I carried the sack and thermos into the living room and saw Greg paging through the pictures in the file. “Josh wants me to copy each and every one of those for every member of the Business-to-Business group. I told him I’d talk to Amy about making batches.”
“Can I have a few?” Greg held up a few of the pages.
I set the bag of cookies and coffee down on the table. “You can have most of them, that way I don’t have to explain to Amy why I’m using all of her monthly allotted paper for copies.”
“Just these ten will be fine.” He tucked the pages in his back pocket and picked up the coffee, holding it under his arm. He held the cookies in his other hand. “I’m hiding these from Toby. He’ll eat them all before I get a chance.”
“Sharing is caring.” I put my hand on Greg’s chest and moved closer, wishing he didn’t have to leave. “Great, now I’m sounding like those ‘fortunes’ Esmeralda’s been spouting off.”
“You figure out if you’re the key or the problem yet?” He kissed me on the forehead, then dropped down to my lips, keeping me from answering.
When he stepped away, I sighed. “I think I’m the shiny new friend she needs.”
Greg frowned, not understanding. Then, glancing at his watch, he paused before he asked, “Whose friend?”
“Go to work. It’s not a big deal.” I walked him toward the door. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Probably not. I’ll pick you up early Sunday morning for our fishing trip.” He grinned when I made a face. “What, did you forget?”
“I was hoping you had.” I tapped the pocket with the pictures. “What’s got you so interested in litter? Or are there more pictures showing illegal activities in our small town?”
“You never know what you’ll find in the trash.”
Sasha poked her head through the doorway to my office-slash-storeroom at the shop. “How am I supposed to code this free book coupon again?”
“What coupon?” I’d been updating the book sales spreadsheet Aunt Jackie had developed to track what types of books were selling. I thought the process was a complete waste of time, but she’d talked me into giving it a try. I liked my tried-and-true gut method. It made ordering more fun. I could experiment with new authors or even new genres. Apparently, numbers told a clearer story.
If
I could get the darn sheet updated. I kept typing, waiting for her response.
“She said she got it in the council’s swag bag at Vintage Duds.”
Now I knew why my aunt had taken my bag away from me, especially since I’d never approved the expense. Marketing to the other stores in South Cove was just throwing your money away. The people who owned and worked here would buy without a coupon. I glanced at the ceiling, wondering if my aunt was up for a few words. “Scan the book, then key the full price as a coupon. If they bought a drink, the only thing they should be charged for is the food.”
“They’re just getting the book, so the machine keeps wanting to charge them tax.” Sasha leaned against the door. “I guess I could take the money out of the tip jar to even up the till.”
During my shift, Sasha took home the tips as part of her wages. I wasn’t going to let her make up the difference for the coupon my aunt had designed. “Just ring it up and write the tax on a piece of paper. Put that in the cash drawer and Jackie can do a write-off entry when she does the books tonight.”
“You sure? I don’t mind chipping in.”
“I’m positive.” I saved the spreadsheet and turned off the computer. Aunt Jackie could finish the data input this evening. Fridays were usually my day off, but I’d agreed to work in the office in case Sasha needed help. Toby would be here in an hour. I grabbed my purse and entered the café. I was surprised to see Sasha’s customer. I didn’t think Lille Ramsey had ever bought anything from me. When she saw me, her face turned beet red. I decided to listen to the good angel on my shoulder. “Picking up something to read over the weekend?”
“Carrie asked me to get this stupid book for her.” Lille waved the historical romance at me like it was a flyswatter.
“I love that author,” Sasha added. “She knows how to write a hot love scene.”
Lille turned a deeper red. “I don’t know anything about the book. I bought it for Carrie.” She turned and skittered out of the shop, the bell on the door chiming hard when the door slammed shut behind her.
“I hope I didn’t say anything to offend Ms. Ramsey. I enjoy eating at her restaurant.” Sasha watched Lille through the shop’s front windows.
“You’ll be fine. She believes I sent her boyfriend to prison and she still lets me in the door.” I glanced around the empty shop. “Will you be okay until Toby gets here?”
“This ain’t my first shift.” Sasha smiled. “The three of you baby me so much, I’m beginning to think you believe I can’t do much at all.”
I leaned on the counter and studied her. “If you’re ready, I’ll let you fly solo. You’re on your own with the other two.”
“If I get in trouble, I’ll give Jackie a call.” Sasha smiled. “I appreciate your confidence in me.”
Walking out into the chilly air, I wondered if Greg was in the office. Last night, I’d gone through the photos that Josh had given me and discovered I had two copies of everything. Studying the ones Greg had been interested in, I realized they were all of the inside of the same car—Conner McBride’s blue BMW if I had to guess. And in the middle of all the fast-food wrappers and empty to-go cups sat a plastic box filled with what looked like little Baggies. Little Baggies filled with something white.
Either Conner enjoyed baking and the powder was flour, or, more likely, Greg had found the most recent drug dealer for the South Cove area. And probably, Kent’s supplier.
Even though Greg had told me the cocaine wasn’t the cause of death, I had to wonder. What if it had been spiked with something to make the powder go further? But if that was true, why weren’t others dying from Conner’s bad product?
On a hunch, I called Information for the number of Pampered Pet. When someone answered, I started my story. “I’m interested in buying one of those pretty frogs, the poison dart frogs for my son. But I’m concerned about safety.”
“Hold on a minute, I’ll connect you to that section,” the chirpy female voice said, then switched me to a recorded message about grooming appointments and the importance of spaying and neutering your pets. Getting closer to City Hall, I found a street-side bench and settled down to wait for a real person to return to the line. I took my notebook out of my purse and dug deeper until I found a pen.
“This is Jeremy, how can I help you?” a friendly voice spoke into my ear.
“My son is begging me for one of those poison dart frogs we saw in your store last week, but I’m concerned. Are they safe?”
“The frogs are just frogs, unless they eat stuff that has poison in them. So yeah, if you keep them on the suggested diet, they’re perfectly safe in captivity. Now, I wouldn’t go out into the jungles and take one as a pet.” He chuckled at his own joke.
“Do you sell a lot of them?”
“A fair amount. The frogs can live up to twenty-five years if cared for, so you have to be sure you’re in it for the long haul. Many people can’t have dogs or cats in their rentals, so taking on a frog gives them that feeling of having a pet. We sell a lot to single guys looking for the coolness factor.”
Jeremy was a wealth of information; now, if I could just get him to tell me one more thing. “Do you have any customers in the area I could talk to about owning a frog? Like what to look out for? Maybe there’s someone who lives nearby me I could talk to or call.”
“Hold on.” The line was filled with
click
s. Then the voice came back. “There are five registered owners in the Bakerstown area. Of course, some buyers don’t join our Pet Rewards program, so I wouldn’t know those. Where do you live?”
I gambled. “South Cove.”
“Love that town. My girlfriend and I bike down the highway and stop there for lunch in that diner.” The sales clerk paused. “Hey, you’re in luck. I show two owners real close to you. Do you know Anne Marsh or maybe Conner McBride? He’s some sort of an artist. I think he’s used the frogs as models for his paintings before.”
“Actually, I know both of them. Thank you so much.” And thinking I needed to give him hope for a sale, “Will you be available next weekend if we decide to buy?”
“We’ll be open. We don’t work on commission here, so anyone can help you.” He called out to someone in the store that he’d be right there and returned to the call. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, what’s the wrong kind of food to feed these frogs?”
“Any insects with a high alkaloid level can cause the frogs to become toxic. Like ants or centipedes. Don’t worry, we’ll send your frog home with a safe diet.” He chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to lose a customer over a bad diet.”
“Literally, you mean.” I said my good-byes and wrote a few notes down, then sat tapping my pen. The frogs only had poison if they were in the wild or fed the wrong things. Maybe Conner knew that, too. I decided it was time to tell Greg what I’d learned.
Reaching the station, I hurried into the reception area where Esmeralda was on the phone. I pointed to Greg’s office and shrugged my shoulders to ask if he’d arrived yet. She nodded then covered the mic on the phone. “Go on in, he’s alone.”
Even so, I gently knocked on the door before swinging it open. Greg, too, was on the phone. He waved me in and I took a chair.
“Look, all I want is a search warrant. I know I have probable cause for a search, so just do your job.” He slammed down the phone. “Judges should be shot and dumped into the ocean.”
“Bad day?” I perched on one of his chairs.
Greg stood and came around the desk, where he leaned onto the front and took my hands in his. “Until now.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I don’t quite believe you, but it’s nice to hear.”
He ignored my comment. “So what brings you out on a Friday morning? I would have thought you’d still be in bed, sleeping.”
“I went down to the shop to be close in case Sasha needed something.” I rubbed my finger over his callused hand.
“She’s going to rebel sooner or later like all good children do.”
I shrugged my shoulders, watching the sun come out from behind a cloud. “That’s basically what she told me. So I left.”
“And came here to see me?” He pushed a stray lock away from my cheek. “I’m honored.”
“Actually, I wanted to try out a theory on you.” I pulled out my notebook and walked Greg through the steps that had to happen for Conner to have killed Kent. When I added in the part that Conner had a poison dart frog, Greg held up his hand, stopping my presentation.
“You know this how?” Greg picked up a pen and held it over his own notebook, poised for my answer.
“I called the pet store to see if anyone in the area owned the things.” I shrugged.
“They just gave you out of the blue a list of their customers and what pets they had purchased? Did they let you know how much money the company made last week, as well?”
This wasn’t going as well as I’d hoped. “Don’t be silly. I may have led the sales associate to believe I was in the market for a pet for my son.”
“You made up a son?” Now he was smiling. “What’s the poor kid’s name?”
I leaned back. “I didn’t name the kid. Do you want to hear my theory or not?”
“Go ahead.” He wrote down something, then tapped his pen on his notebook. “Hold up, was there anyone else your friend at the pet store mentioned who owns these crazy frogs?”
“One. Anne Marsh.” I saw Greg write down the name, then he listened to the rest of my theory. When I’d finished he glanced at his watch.