“You’ll make it.” I moved us toward the door. “But don’t worry about picking me up. I’ll walk to the winery and you can drive me home.”
“Sounds like a deal.” We entered the empty lobby.
I picked up the sign that Esmeralda had left and read, “Back in five.” My stomach growled as I said, “I guess we can wait.”
Greg went back to his office and locked the door. “No need. If she says she’ll be back in five, she will.”
After we’d ordered our food, I decided to push my luck. “One more thing and we’ll stop talking about the case.”
“I didn’t know we
were
talking about the case.” Greg unwrapped the silverware that Lille’s staff kept wrapped in a paper napkin.
“Okay, then I have one question. Did you ever trace the plate of that car I saw in the beachfront parking lot the day Kent was killed? Could she be the killer?”
Greg rubbed his face. “I’d forgotten about that. Tim was supposed to run up to Bakerstown and talk to the rental manager, but when we arrested Conner, I told him not to worry about it.” He pulled out his phone and keyed in a short text.
I sipped on my soda and watched. By the time he’d finished, Carrie had dropped off our food. He put the phone in his pocket and dug into his French dip. “Thanks for stopping in, I was starving.”
“No problem. A girl’s got to eat, too.” We ate in silence until Greg’s phone beeped indicating a new text.
He glanced at the display and keyed a short answer.
“That was quick.” I dipped a French fry into Lille’s special sauce, which consisted mainly of ketchup and horseradish sauce, but I loved the stuff.
“He’s on his way now.” Greg smiled at me and stole a few fries. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“My investigation addiction comes in handy at times.”
“Sometimes.” Greg picked up the check and nodded at my plate. “You done? I need to get back to the station.”
CHAPTER 22
E
mma and I spent the afternoon on the back porch reading. Well, I read; she napped. The fog had burned off during lunch, and now the sunshine felt warm on my feet. I tried to put the whole Kent thing behind me, but I knew the answer had to be with the redheaded woman. She was the clue to breaking this puzzle.
I went into the house and looked up the number for the Bakerstown car rental office. Dialing, I hoped Tim had been there and gone, or Greg was going to hear about this.
“Bakerstown Rental, how can we make your day?” A female who sounded way too chipper for anyone at a real job answered on the first ring.
“Can I speak with your manager?”
“Sure. Steve’s available. Can I ask who’s calling?”
Crap, I hadn’t planned on this. I grabbed the first name that came to me, “Amy Westhouse.”
The lie must have sounded plausible because in a few minutes, a male voice came on the line. “This is Steve, how can I help you?”
“Hey, I have one follow-up question from Tim’s visit today to finish up the report.” I shuffled papers like I was looking for something. “Hold on, I know his report was here somewhere.”
“Tim, the police officer from South Cove?” Steve sounded interested now.
“Yeah, on the rental vehicle, were you the one who rented to the suspect?” I paused, letting the implication sink in.
“Now, look here, I told the officer that we followed all the procedures. The woman had a valid license and a credit card, so there wasn’t anything that suggested she was a criminal.” He flustered through the information.
“Okay, I see that, but the name on the license, Tim’s notes are a little blurry, who rented the car?” I held my breath, hoping he’d answer.
“Jennifer Adams. Check the copy of the driver’s license. She just lives down the street at 14 Highland. Why don’t you call her if you have any more questions, I’m a little busy here with customers.” Now Steve the manager just sounded mad. “Is that all, or do you want to ask me all the questions the officer asked again?”
“You’ve been very helpful. I don’t understand why the officers can’t just print out their reports, it would save me so much time and headache.” I sighed, hoping he would buy my overworked clerical act.
“Well, I guess it didn’t hurt anything. Have a nice day.” Steve hung up on me. I hoped he was so busy he wouldn’t even remember this conversation in a few hours. I considered driving into Bakerstown just to get a look at this woman, but I knew if I went alone, Greg would have my head.
Checking the clock, I dialed Amy’s work number. “Hey, do you want to do dinner in Bakerstown tonight? I’ll buy.”
We made plans for me to pick her up in thirty minutes in front of the bike rental shop.
When she piled in the Jeep, she gave me a quick hug and threw her bag in the back. “So why are we really going to Bakerstown?”
“Am I that obvious?” I turned on my blinker and turned back onto Main Street, heading the long way out of town. This way I didn’t have to drive past the police station and risk running into Greg.
“Crystal clear. Besides, you never want to drive into town just for dinner. You tend to bunch your chores together.” She shrugged then turned on the radio. “You don’t have to tell me.”
I got on the highway, then turned down the music. “Fine, we’re checking out another one of Kent’s girls. This Jennifer Adams rented the car that was parked next to Kent’s the day I saw him making out with a redhead.”
“Uncovering Kent’s habit of keeping more than one woman on the line doesn’t mean she killed him.”
I thought about this. Maybe Jennifer was just another conquest for him. “True, but the leads are all dying. If this girl is a redhead, she may be one of the last people to see him alive. And maybe she could tell us who he was meeting later that night.”
Amy considered my reasoning, then nodded and turned the tunes back up. That’s the joy of having a best friend who gets you. Amy would be the one sitting beside me in the jail cell laughing about how much fun we’d had.
“I’m still buying you dinner.” I turned into Bakerstown and keyed the address Steve had given me into my GPS.
“I never had any doubt.” Amy watched out the window as we drove deeper into the little town. The buildings turned from offices, to retail, and finally to residential. Then the houses got smaller and less maintained. Finally we were parked outside 14 Highland. Or what had been 14 Highland before the house had burned to the ground. If Jennifer lived here, she was pitching a tent as the actual house was demolished.
“Do you think you got the wrong address?” Amy peered at the blackened lot, filled with trash.
“I think she gave this address for a reason. Mostly because it couldn’t be traced to her.” I studied the street and noticed a group of young men on a porch up the road. We could stop, ask if they knew Jennifer, and keep following the clues. Or we could be safe and just go to dinner. Greg would be investigating this. No need to be the stupid girl who opens the door to the killer in the slasher movies. I put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “Where do you want to eat?”
Amy suggested seafood, and I drove us to the place where Greg and I had our first date. “Best food in town.”
After a dinner of fish, clams, and scallops, Amy and I were on our way back to South Cove. Stopping at a light, Amy pointed to a couple of working girls standing on the corner and giggled. “There’s your redhead.”
I turned to look and did a double take. She was right. The woman’s hair was long and curly and just the shade of red I’d seen with Kent. But with all the women he had on the line, why would he hire a “professional”? A horn beeped behind me and I realized the light had changed. By the time I reacted, the woman on the street had gotten into a car and left. Now the driver behind me laid on his horn and I reluctantly left the corner.
“What if that was the woman?” I asked Amy who had leaned back, her eyes closed in some sort of food coma.
“Kent wouldn’t hire it out. It would make him feel like less of a man.” Amy yawned. “I’m going to go right to bed after this. I can’t believe I’m such a lightweight. I used to party all night, weekday or weekend.”
“We’re all getting older.” I sped around a car whose driver had never seen the ocean before.
“Speak for yourself.” Amy laid her seat back as far as it would go and put on her shades. “Wake me when we get to South Cove, okay?”
For the next fifteen minutes, with the car interior completely quiet, I thought about the paradox of Kent and the hooker. Finally I gave up. The only way he’d be with a prostitute was if he didn’t know what they really were. The realization hit me so hard, I spoke the thought aloud. “Someone else bought her for him.”
When I got home, I pulled all the pieces together under one name: Anne. She had motive, opportunity, and a burning desire to make Kent pay, even though she claimed she still loved him.
I wrote it all out and put my notebook into my purse. I’d stop by the station tomorrow after work—being sure to leave out the part about driving to Jennifer’s false address.
Greg wasn’t in his office the next day when I got off work. Esmeralda was at the reception desk, studying her tarot cards, when I arrived.
“You should have called. You just missed him.”
“When will he be back?” I peeked at her cards, wondering why she’d bring them into the office.
“Not until Friday. He’s got meetings in Bakerstown today and tomorrow. I thought he would have told you this.” Esmeralda’s eyes sparkled with humor.
Laughing, I shrugged. “I guess he did. I mean, I thought it was just Thursday.”
“Confusion happens.” She caught me looking at the cards. “The switchboard’s a little slow today, especially with Greg and the mayor out. Do you want me to throw your cards?”
Besides totally not believing, it always made me a little uneasy to consider having my future read. What if I was told I would die in a year? Would my disbelief protect me from an early demise? Or would I change my life, which would cause the prediction to change, only I wouldn’t know it had changed? See, this was why I didn’t believe. It twisted my head into a confused mess.
“I don’t know . . .” I stepped back. “Maybe I should just go home.”
I guess I didn’t move far enough away because Esmeralda caught my arm in a death grip, her bloodred nails digging a little into my skin. If I hadn’t been freaked before, I was now. “Come sit with me and I’ll walk you through the cards. Something’s telling me you need to be read.”
And something’s telling me you’re as looney as a parakeet
. I sat down in the chair next to her deciding to humor her. Which seemed to work, as she released my arm. People thought the fortune-teller was a bit odd, but like most folks in South Cove, I knew she was just trying to get by. I didn’t believe she had an open line to the other world, but the woman was amazing at reading people. And that was a skill I needed. She gathered the cards together and had me shuffle them three times. The cards were made of heavy cardboard and not easy to mix together, but I managed. I pushed the deck toward her. But she didn’t touch them.
“Now cut the deck.”
Thin to win
, my grandma always said. The woman loved her blackjack. Finally, Esmeralda picked up the deck and quickly laid out the pattern. “This is a Celtic cross. I like to use it for a first reading. It gives you an idea of what each card and position means.”
She pointed to the first card. Then her finger started shaking. “You need to avoid the friend, she’s the one who’s dangerous. Some are silver and the others gold.”
“What?” I switched my gaze from the cards to Esmeralda’s face. Her eyes were staring at a spot on the wall, not looking at the cards at all. The phone rang and she blinked, then answered, “South Cove Police Department, Esmeralda speaking.” She smiled at me and picked up a pen, tapping it lightly on the paper. “Sorry, he’s out for the week. Can someone else help you?”
The caller must not have liked the answer because I heard a string of curse words come out of the tiny speaker on Esmeralda’s Lady Gaga headset. She pushed the button off and returned her attention to me. “Sherry’s been trying to reach Greg all week, but he’s put her on a no-call list.”
“That was Sherry?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Thankfully Esmeralda pretended not to hear me.
“So that’s your reading. You’re going to be pretty lucky this week. Did you understand the cards?”
I wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Apparently, Esmeralda had thought she’d explained the reading, but instead I’d gotten the scary voice singing the friendship song. Totally creepsville. Since she appeared to be waiting for an answer, I nodded and lied, “That was great.”
Then I remembered my decision to be more friendly, more neighborly. “Hey, do you want to come over some night and watch a movie or something?”
“Why would I do that? I have a television, you just didn’t see it when you dropped off Maggie.” She looked at me, confused.
“I just thought maybe it would be nice if we did something together.” I stumbled over my words.
“Oh, my dear, you’re lonely. I have a terrific women’s group I meet with on Wednesday nights to help them deal with being single. You could come with me, the girls would love to meet you.” She leaned forward.
“No, I mean, I’m fine. I just thought . . .” I gave up explaining and stood. “Thanks for the reading, Esmeralda.”
“I’ll tell Greg you stopped by when he calls in. I’m sure he’ll get in touch as soon as possible.”
As I walked out of the station, feeling like a complete fool, the friendship song echoed in my head. Something was ringing true with Kent’s murder and the stupid song, but for the life of me, I couldn’t put my finger on it.
I took Emma for a long run as soon as I got home and yet my mind still didn’t feel settled.
CHAPTER 23
D
arla had called three times to make sure I remembered the dress rehearsal. The last time, I’d been in the shower when the cell rang. Thinking it might be Greg, trying to call off because of work, I stepped out of the water, my hair still soapy, and dripped over my wood floors to the nightstand to answer the phone.
“Oh, hey, it’s just me. Did I already call you about the rehearsal?” Darla sounded distracted, worried.
“Yes, you did. Now, stop calling. Greg said he would be there, and he will do his best. You know he has an investigation going on, right?” I shivered as the water started to dry on my skin.
“What’s going on with the investigation?” Now I’d woken the sleeping tiger. No longer did she sound distracted. Now it was all Katie Couric focus.
“I’ll talk to you when I get there.” I clicked off the phone and ran back to the shower, trying to stay on my feet on the slippery floor. Twenty minutes later, I was dressed in jeans, ballet slippers, and a South Cove Rocks T-shirt. I had plenty of time to walk to the winery. Emma lay cuddled on her porch bed, her foot on the new chew toy I’d given her before my shower. I grabbed the tote that held my dress shoes for the costume. The silver ankle strap pumps weren’t my style, but for once, I’d play the shoe girl. I had to admit, they were cute. I’d look good even if I couldn’t walk.
Coming into town, I spied Greg’s truck parked in front of Vintage Duds. He must have come back early from Bakerstown, I mused. Walking by, I considered stopping in, just to find out what he was talking to his ex about, but I kicked the bad angel off my shoulder and kept walking. Greg was a big boy. If there was something going on between him and Sherry, he would have told me. He had the moral compass of a recently crowned Eagle Scout. And I could trust him.
I said that last part aloud, just to make sure I heard the comment. Man, I was really going to need a beer after this practice was over. The streetlights came on and I realized how dark the walk had been. Too late to take the Jeep, I kept walking. Besides, Greg would probably drive by at any moment and take me the rest of the way. But he didn’t.
When I passed the bank, the lights were all on, and the door stood wide open. I stopped across the street, watching to see an employee come out, or the janitorial crew pile out of the building. But nothing, no one, came. I dialed Toby’s cell.
“Hey, why are you calling me? Dontcha know I’m not here?” His message machine told me to leave a number and he’d get right back to me. Probably first thing tomorrow morning. I still left a message about how the bank was open for all to walk in and take what they needed. I dialed Greg’s number and it went straight to voice mail, too. I glanced around the empty street. There was no one to help.
I took a step toward the bank building, then froze. A shadow crossed over the window. Someone was in the building. This wasn’t just a prank. I turned and power-walked back to Sherry’s store. Now, in the gloom, I could see the front shop lights were off. That was curious. The store appeared closed. I tried the door and it creaked open.
Stepping into the dark, I waited a second for my eyes to adjust, then headed to Sherry’s office. I’d seen the dark wooden door with an honest-to-God nameplate stuck in the middle, her full name engraved in gold during the Business-to-Business meeting. The woman was nothing if not predictable.
I put my hand up to knock, but then heard voices. Angry voices. Swinging the door open, I stepped into the brightly lit room. “Look, I hate to break up this charming conversation, but we’ve got trouble at the bank.” Both Greg and Sherry stared at me. They were both sitting on tall café table chairs, their arms resting behind them. But then I saw their arms weren’t resting; they were tied. “What the heck?”
“Let her go,” Greg ordered to someone standing behind me. Suddenly, I could feel a person’s breath on my neck.
I turned around and faced Leslie Talman. The crafter-slash-bank teller-grandma stood a few feet away. With a gun pointed at my chest.
She waved it toward a third chair. “You are such a busybody, Jill. You really need to learn to stay out of problems that aren’t yours. From what I’ve seen, you need to get a tighter hold on your man, too. Unless you want to lose him to this hussy.”
“I am not a hussy.” Sherry stuck her chin out in what must have seemed like a position of power. It was just pretty hard to take her seriously with her hands tied behind her and a cord tying her waist to the chair.
I slowly stepped over to the chair. From what I had seen, we were out of options. There would be no cavalry saving us tonight. Darla would think I was skipping the rehearsal to avoid talking to her about Kent. She already knew Greg might be working tonight. Leslie had more than a day before anyone would miss us. Or maybe longer.
I climbed onto the third stool. All I could think of was what would happen to my dog. Amy’s apartment was way too small for Emma, and she hadn’t even stopped growing yet. For her sake, I needed to fight, to hold on as long as possible so someone could find us. So I jumped off the stool.
“What are you doing? Do you want me to shoot you?” Leslie waved the gun at me. “Get up on that chair, now.”
“Not until you tell me how and why you killed Kent.” I folded my arms, trying to look determined rather than shaking like a falling leaf.
“You killed Kent? Why? I know he wasn’t sleeping with you.” Sherry looked befuddled.
Leslie walked up and slapped her across the face. “Shut up. I should just kill you now and figure out a story later.”
Trying to get her attention away from Sherry, I said, “You hired that hooker the day he died, didn’t you?”
Leslie’s face broke into a wide grin. “You figured that out, did you?” She did a slow clap, each time jerking the gun and making me twitch. “I’m impressed. Your boyfriend here has been clueless all along, but you, a coffee shop waitress, had an idea.”
“You bought cocaine from Conner, then what? Sprinkled venom from the poison dart frog on the stuff, letting it dry before returning it to the Baggie Conner supplied?” Now I was just making things up, but from Leslie’s reaction, I was closer than I’d known.
“Very good, you should be our town’s police detective, not this idiot who can’t seem to decide who he’s going to take to bed.” Leslie poked Greg in the leg with the gun. To his credit, he didn’t react.
“I can’t figure out where you got the poison, though. According to the pet store, those frogs are harmless.” Hope kept me talking, but fear made my words run fast.
She stepped away from Greg, and my heartbeat slowed for a second. “You didn’t do your research then. The difference between the frogs in the wild and in captivity was what they ate. All I had to do was feed Anne’s frog some tempting delights and wait.” Leslie focused on Greg again. “I don’t know what you see in this guy. You could do so much better.”
I took a deep breath and decided to play out the scenario and hope Leslie gave me an opening. “You see where he was, not with me, right?” I sneered at Sherry. “What he sees in that, I just don’t get.”
“You little tramp. I’m twice the woman you’d ever think to be.” Sherry was hot. Apparently she hadn’t gotten the memo. If I hadn’t been playing with life and death, this could have been a little bit fun.
“Whatever. You couldn’t keep Greg, then you couldn’t keep Kent satisfied. No wonder he went looking.” I watched Leslie nod in agreement.
“That’s why she killed him.” Leslie pulled out a piece of folded-up notebook paper. “It says so right here. She was tired of his philandering and had to stop him, one way or the other.”
“You were going to set up Sherry,” I whispered, understanding why Leslie was here and why she’d left the bank wide open. Any law enforcement type worth his salt would be safeguarding the bank, which gave her plenty of time to fake Sherry’s suicide.
“I sent her that text, thinking she would be arrested when they found his body, but your boyfriend ignored her visit. This plan would have worked, too, but when I got her tied up, the hero had to walk in to save the day.” Leslie rubbed her face with her free hand, the note flapping with the motion. “Now, how will I explain away the rest of you?”
“You could let me go.” My words surprised even me. “I wouldn’t tell anyone. Sherry deserves this, and well, I guess Greg made his bed, so he can sleep in it.”
“Nice try, but I can’t let you go. You’d tell that cute little barista-part-time-cop.” Leslie leaned forward. “The girls say he’s quite the playboy.”
Before I could respond, Leslie grunted and her eyes widened as she began to shake, then drop to the ground. Toby stood behind her, a stun gun in his hand. When she fell, he ran toward her, kicking the gun aside. He rolled the incapacitated Leslie onto her side and handcuffed her. When he pulled her to a sitting position, he said, “
Reformed
playboy.”
I fumbled with the fabric belts she’d used to tie Greg’s hands behind his back while Toby freed Sherry. Once I untied the knot, Greg pulled me into a hug. “I was so worried about you. The woman was crazy.”
“She just wanted the person who hurt her friend to pay for his crime. In a way, I get her.” I took a deep breath of the musky smell of Greg. “I’m glad this is over.”
“Wait, I thought you were mad at him.” Sherry pointed a finger at me. “You wanted to help her kill me.”
“Wouldn’t have been the worst idea,” I mumbled. Greg shot me a look.
“Jill was keeping Leslie busy until Toby could get here.” He considered his deputy. “Why are you here and not at the bank?”
“Tim’s at the bank. He called in Mrs. LaRue and she’s down there now, figuring out if Leslie did any damage.” Toby grinned. “When I saw your truck at Vintage Duds and listened to Jill’s message, I figured I’d better get over here and save you. I just thought Jill would have been the one beating you down.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” With Greg’s arm around me, I felt like I could do anything. I laid my head on his shoulder, thankful the night had turned out as well as it had. If Toby hadn’t checked his messages, or if Leslie had shot without trying to figure out a new plan, the night could have turned out very differently.
“I never doubted you,” Greg whispered in my ear.
I checked my watch and smiled. “We still have time to make the dress rehearsal.”