Killer in Crinolines (18 page)

Boone put his hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eyes. “Reagan, you need to talk to Ross, tell her what you think. See if she’ll look into it.”

“According to Detective Ross, she has the killer and there’s nothing more to look at, end of story. But now
I
have something else to go on. Whoever got KiKi into Simon’s apartment knew the access code and had a connection to him.”

Boone collected the saucers. “Or has my tax gal. Your little speech about the case being over was for KiKi’s sake, wasn’t it? You should be the one wearing the ankle monitor.”

I stacked the dishwasher, then leaned against the counter trying to put pieces together. Boone turned a kitchen chair around and sat backward like guys do. “So now what?” he asked.

“The idea that Suellen saw the killer and wanted money to keep quiet makes sense.”

“But?”

“How do you know there’s a but?”

“You’re flipping your hair.”

I folded my arms so I wouldn’t do any more flipping. If Boone hadn’t saved KiKi, I wouldn’t tell him squat. He’d find holes in my theory and try to talk me out of doing anything other than selling clothes and visiting Chantilly every other Thursday. But Boone did save KiKi. Why did it always wind up this way, me owing him and not the other way around? “Why do you care about any of this?” I asked him.

“Your stirring up trouble has collateral damage. I want to know what’s coming my way.”

“Before GracieAnn worked at the Cakery Bakery, she was a barmaid down at Wet Willies and fed Simon clients for his loan-sharking venture. I think Suellen did the same thing from the Pirate House. The three of them were in the business together, that’s their connection, though I think GracieAnn had a crush on Simon. When he dumped her for Chantilly and then for Waynetta, GracieAnn was irate and bitter and depressed and Delta took her in at the bakery. It didn’t matter to Suellen that Simon went for Waynetta. All Suellen was interested in was the money.”

“And when Simon died, why let a very lucrative business she’d helped establish go down the tubes.” Boone gave me a long look across the short distance between us. “That night at Simon’s place, when you got the bookcase pushed over on you, you weren’t admiring Simon’s big plasma TV.”

“There was a notebook, Simon’s records as best I can figure. Someone knocked over the bookcase and took the notebook. Suellen maybe or GracieAnn.”

Boone shook his head. “Suellen’s the one in the morgue. That points to GracieAnn knocking her off.”

“Unless there’s something else in those records worth killing for. Like maybe information about a golf course?”

Boone went perfectly still, his expression lawyer-blank. “How do you know about the golf course?”

Well, dang. Pay dirt! “A little birdie told me?”

“Forget this. Forget the golf course. Forget it exists.”

“Because it doesn’t.” I took in Boone’s forever five o’clock shadow, short black hair, eyes darker than midnight, and could easily imagine the build under his navy polo. Boone’s face was unreadable but there was always that barely contained hum of danger just under the surface. You can take the boy out of the hood but the hood’s always a few short blocks away. “Why did you leave Seventeenth Street? Lose your bad-boy streak?”

A menacing spark lit his eyes, that half smile back on his lips. The bad boy was alive and well, he just stayed out of sight, usually. “Watch your step, Reagan.”

“You never give me a straight answer.”

“I just did.” Boone made a two-finger salute, kissed BW on the snout, and left.

I dropped one of those green soap cubes in the dishwasher, wiped off the table, then stood at the bottom of the steps and listened to make sure KiKi was okay. A soft voice and giggles drifted down from her bedroom. I guess it was never too late for phone sex. BW and I headed across the side yard serenaded by late summer crickets and other things that sounded a lot nicer than they looked. I unlocked the kitchen door and went in, the peace of home-sweet-home wrapping around me like a warm, welcoming blanket after a hard day at the salt mine.

“Yo, white woman. ’Bout time you show up.”

P
ILLSBURY
stepped out of the shadows and gave BW a good rubdown. “What on earth are you doing here?” I ran my hand over my face to keep from fainting dead away and gulped in deep breaths. “Not that you’re unwelcome, but you scared the liver right out of me!”

“Living a little lean here, babe. Your fridge is bare. Hot dogs? Nitrates? That stuff will kill you.”

“They’re for BW. He’s addicted.”

“Doggie abuse. An ice cream container? Ever hear of a bank?”

“You came here to criticize my culinary and monetary skills?”

“Among other things.” He took my hand and dropped a black phone in it. “Stay connected.”

“Says who?”

“Can’t have you running around without hookup. Your auntie went missing and you want to find who do the deed, I get that. If you’re in need of assistance.” He plopped a set of keys on top of the phone. “Wheels.”

I handed back the phone and the car keys. “I thank you kindly, but you’ve done enough. I’m okay here.” I pictured my pants on fire after that big, fat lie.

Pillsbury shoved a note at me. “On your door.
Next time it’s for keeps
. Don’t think this be in reference to a marriage proposal.”

Two death threats in less than a week; just call me little Miss Popular. I took back the phone and tried to keep my hands from shaking.

“You scared?”

I nodded.

“Good. Keep you from being stupid. My digits’ on speed dial.”

“What do you know about Simon being involved in loan-sharking?”

Pillsbury did the raised-eyebrow thing, then stuffed his hands along with the car keys in his jean pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Nickel-dime stuff at first. Lately he built up a clientele, mostly hard-ups who didn’t know what they getting into. Hired Tiny to do repo.”

“So how did he build up the clientele? I mean if he was lending out larger amounts lately, he had to be getting the cash from somewhere and that takes a while, not just all of a sudden. Any ideas where Simon got a sudden influx of capital?”

“Inheritance, take on an interested partner for a cut of the action, twenty-to-one on a fast filly at Belmont Park.”

“What about a golf course.” I had no idea how this played into anything but it sure got a rise out Boone and Sugar-Ray when I mentioned it.

Pillsbury’s eyes turned to thin slits and he shook his head. “Not good if that got out. Make a lot of folks mighty unhappy.”

“My lips are sealed and thanks for the info.”

“Later, babe.” Pillsbury left out the front door, the house now eerily quiet. I was absolutely sure no one else was lurking about in my partially restored humble abode or Pillsbury would have squashed them flat. On the way to bed I stopped and sat on the stairs with BW beside me. Together we gazed over our little shop, BW thinking about hot dogs in the fridge, me thinking about martinis to mayhem all in one night. I’d pushed somebody’s buttons and they were pushing back hard by messing with KiKi. I knew stuff that the killer or killers were not happy about and they were warning me to stay away. But I couldn’t and now I’d always be looking over my shoulder, wondering who was after me.

There was no turning back till this was over and I got the killer. Problem was I didn’t have much to go forward on either. I didn’t know who killed Simon. I didn’t know if that same person knocked off Suellen or if the two nasty-grams warning me to back off were from the same person. I didn’t even have the blasted notebook to give me a lead, and how did a fictitious golf course play into all this?

Did Simon swindle Reese and the boys of the hood to invest in this golf course? There was some reason they got all jittery when I mentioned those two little words. Was the golf course scam how Simon got his seed money for loan-sharking? I could see Simon hustling Reese, but getting the hood involved smacked of blatant stupidity. Right now all I had was a whole lot of nothing for a whole lot of trouble.

• • •

The next morning the sultry beat from
The Devil and the Dancer
filled KiKi’s parlor along with the Silver Spoon Girls and lots of their friends. Finger cymbals clinked, hips twitched, setting off the tinkle of little bells on filmy skirts, and we all shook our booties for an hour, pretending we were somewhere exotic and maybe losing a few pounds along the way. As I gyrated and twirled around I considered what to do next about who killed whom over what.

The first thing was to find Simon’s killer; everything else hinged on it. That brought me back to the usual suspects of Reese Waverly, Sugar-Ray, Icy, and GracieAnn, though I had no idea how GracieAnn figured in with the golf course. I needed to talk to them. The problem was to get them to talk back. I’d use the direct approach, say if they answered my questions I’d quit bothering them. Of course if my poor lifeless body got dumped in Gray’s Creek, I wouldn’t be bothering them any longer either.

“That’s all for today, ladies,” I said at the end of the hour.

“But where’s Walker Boone?” Lilly Crawford asked, looking around, the other girls nodding.

“At his office?” Or waking up in some cutie pie’s bed, which was always a distinct possibility.

Marjorie Lambert added, “So he doesn’t always come to watch you dance?”

“Me?”

“The way he looks at you one would think there’s something going on.”

Like an attack of gas last time he was here, but I didn’t think the girls were looking for that answer.

“We just want to look back,” Marjorie added. “Having that man around is a fine way to start the day. He’s kind of a bonus for coming and exercising, if you know what I mean. We’re all married but some eye candy first thing in the morning gets our juices flowing.”

I wanted to tell them to try
Starbucks but I didn’t think that’s what they had in mind either.

“Think you can persuade him to be here next time?” Lilly asked, a glint in her green eyes. “We’d all be mighty appreciative.”

I considered the overflow class and how much I made in one hour. “You bet.”

KiKi hobbled in using one of Uncle Putter’s golf clubs as a cane as the girls left. “That was some big group; you’re really good at belly dancing. I had no idea you’d attract such a crowd. We should have done this years ago.”

“They came to see Boone. They thought he’d be here again and wanted to start their day off with their juices flowing. I told them he’d show up next time. The class should be packed, I’ll make a killing.”

“Honey, you can’t make money off that sweet man. He just saved my life.”

“That sweet man made
my
life living hell and he made money off my divorce without batting an eye. I figure it’s my turn.”

“What are you going to tell him?”

“Don’t shave and wear something tight. Can I borrow the Beemer tonight?”

“I knew it.” KiKi thumped the golf club against the floor. “That little speech you gave last night was a bunch of hooey. You’re going to find Simon’s killer and I’m coming right along with you.”

I shook my head and crossed my fingers behind my back to offset a whopper of a lie. “I’m going to Beaufort to pick up some clothes from a new consigner over there.”

KiKi gave me long, steady look and tapped her foot. “First you’re pimping out my hero and now you’re lying to your dear auntie who spent hours and hours drumming the multiplication tables into your head.”

What I was trying to do was pay my electric bill and keep my dear auntie out of harm’s way. I crossed my fingers a little tighter. “I’ll be back by ten.”

I headed across the yard to the Fox. BW was taking his morning snooze on the front porch, customers already shopping inside. Elsie Abbott straightened racks of clothes while AnnieFritz manned the checkout counter. Brownies and chocolate cookies sat at the end in a pink basket with matching napkins. Social media had its place, to be sure, but tried and true social graces counted for so much more, especially when you could eat them!

“There you are, sugar,” AnnieFritz beamed. “I knew you had to be around here somewhere. Elsie and I were coming in from a funeral Mass over at St. John Cathedral this morning. Last week we showed up at St. John’s Episcopal by mistake and set about crying something fierce at little Lucy Ryder’s baptism instead of Roland Sim’s funeral. You’d think with all the saints in heaven like there are, this here city didn’t have to settle on two St. John churches. Anyway, Burl Ramsey’s heart finally gave out on him and had one of those oversized coffins to contain his hugeness; the big chunk of gray metal could pass for a battleship. Doc Griffin tried to convince Burl that biscuits and sausage gravy every morning was not a particularly good idea but there was simply no convincing the man.”

“I guess you remembered where the spare key is hidden?”

“Honey, everyone knows where that key’s hidden. I must say your outfit’s mighty fetching, like you’re going into telling fortunes. All you need is one of those fancy crystal balls and a tent.”

If it paid the water bill sitting on the kitchen counter, I’d give it serious consideration. I promised to be back in ten minutes, then snagged a brownie and hurried upstairs to change. When I came back down, Icy Graham’s daughter stood at the counter, state-of-the-art stroller by her side, pile of toddler clothes in front of her. I couldn’t remember what Icy said her name was when he came to visit the other night. I was too busy trying to breathe.

“Aren’t these the cutest little boy clothes ever?” AnnieFritz gushed, holding up a pair of blue Nike gym shoes. “I didn’t know they made these things this small. Looks like a Christmas tree ornament.” She gave me wink. “Doesn’t it make you want a bunch of little darlings of your own?”

That’s what happens when Auntie KiKi and the Abbott sisters gossip and I’m not around to supervise.

“Hi,” Icy’s daughter said. “I’m Laura Lynn. We met the other day at my daddy’s seafood shop down by the docks. I didn’t know you owned this place. A friend said you might consign children’s clothes, and I have some nice ones. Daddy bought so many things for little TJ when he was born that he never got a chance to wear them before he was too big.”

“Your daddy said to bring the clothes here?” I pictured a sawed-off shotgun hidden in the pile.

Laura Lynn laughed. It was one of the infectious laughs that make you happy, too. Laura Lynn was a darling girl and if Icy didn’t kill Simon for threatening to take her baby away, he should have.

“Lordy, no,” Laura Lynn said. “Daddy doesn’t have time to think about such things. Shrimping is mighty hard work. Except for yesterday, when he took TJ and me out to Tybee for the day, he’s been out on his boat every night. He gets bigger catches when it’s not so hot. Yesterday was TJ’s first birthday and we didn’t get home till late.” She glanced down at the toddler in the stroller. “You were one tuckered-out little boy.”

“Children’s clothes are a fine idea.” I grabbed the pile and put them behind the counter and handed Laura Lynn a paper to fill out to open an account. I never really thought about opening up a children’s section at the Prissy Fox, but considering the customer and her daddy and the possibility of another late-night visit from Daddy, a children’s section seemed like a fine idea indeed.

By noon things calmed down at the Fox and AnnieFritz and Elsie headed home to get ready for the Delroy Farber viewing. Delroy had been a used car salesman over in Garden City. When you turned sixteen and had saved some cash from babysitting or packing groceries at the Piggly Wiggly, you paid Delroy a visit and he fixed you up with a decent car and decent payments. God bless Delroy. The place would be packed.

At one o’clock, KiKi meandered through the door minus Putter’s golf club/cane but she still held on to the ice bag. “You’re doing better?”

KiKi parked on the stool behind the counter and elevated her leg onto a pile of clothes not suited for the Fox and headed for the local thrift store. “Gave me an excuse to cancel Bernard’s lesson.” She angled the ice on her ankle so it wouldn’t slide off. “I saw Icy Graham’s cute little daughter and her baby come in here earlier and it got me thinking.”

“No babies. I barely remember to feed BW. I have some old romance novels upstairs you can read to take your mind off things so you don’t have to think so much.”

KiKi made a sour face and brushed her hand though the air as if chasing black flies. “Why would I want to read when I have our current situation staring me in the face.”

For once I was glad there was a murder around if it kept Kiki’s mind off babies and the state of my love life. I wrote up a sale for a denim skirt I wished I could afford, then KiKi added in a low voice, “I don’t believe the shrimp guy’s our you-know-what. He wouldn’t risk going to jail and leaving his daughter and grandson to fend on their own. This is a man who goes to sea every day. He’s not some hothead who acts on impulse. He understands consequences or he wouldn’t still be alive. Doing you-know-what to you-know-who had some big consequences no matter how much the you-know-who jackass deserved it.”

I stood with my back to the customers and dropped my voice. No need to share everything with the gossips and that pretty much included the whole town. “The daughter said they were all out at Tybee yesterday. The night our waitress got whacked our shrimp guy was out on his boat. I can’t see him sending his daughter and grandbaby here to lie for him. That also gives him a good alibi for when you were lured into the closet.”