The Saucy Lucy Murders (10 page)

After a bite of steak, Lexie asked Gabe, “What
is your theory on how my butcher knife wound up at the murder scene?”

“Somebody put it there.”

“Really. But how did they get
my
knife?”

Stevenson dabbed his napkin to his lips. “It’s obvious the murderer came into your kitchen and stole it. Could have been a customer who snuck in when you were distracted, or someone managed to slip in and steal it when you were gone. There’s a million scenarios—just make sure to keep your doors and windows locked and maybe install some dead bolts.”

Lexie made a mental note to do just that. “But why would someone go to all the trouble to take the knife from my kitchen? Why not use one of their own?”

“To implicate you. I believe someone wanted to make it look like you murdered Whitehead.”

Lexie started to tremble. “They framed me? But why? I never did anything to anybody …”

“Do you have any enemies around here? And what about your ex-husband? Maybe he decided to come up and cause trouble. Otis also told me about Hugh Glenwood. I’m checking into that case to see if there’s a connection.”

Lexie felt lightheaded trying to absorb the incredible idea that someone would want to hurt her. “I don’t have any enemies. At least none I know of. And Dan is on Planet Davina.” Immediately Lexie realized what she’d said and warmth tingled in her cheeks. Gabe nodded. He looked like he was going
to say something else, but the waiter arrived with their check and he kept silent.

Lexie’s head swam with unanswered questions. Could Dan have sneaked up to Wyoming without her knowing and followed her around, then stabbed Whitehead, thinking he was her lover? Did he off Glenwood, too? Was he jealous of her, even though he was the one who’d had all the affairs while they were married?

The thought was eerie all the way around. More likely there was someone in town who had it in for her. Lexie bristled. Talk about feeling violated. This was her hometown. How dare somebody set her up like this?

Her stomach twisted with confusion, disbelief, and something she assumed might be shock. She finished her wine, then boldly poured herself more of the plum-colored liquid.

Why, she’d never had an enemy in her life!

Lexie stared through the window at the dark road outside awash with the pink tinge of streetlights. The buzz saw effect of the wine made her light-headed and for a second she thought she saw a dark figure. Then it vanished into the shadowy alley as quickly as she’d noticed it. Not much of a drinker, Lexie knew she was either tipsy or losing her mind. Sensing Detective Stevenson’s steady gaze, she turned to see he’d grabbed the check and was concentrating on her.

Lexie took another sip of wine and looked him
right in the eye. “What?”

His brow wrinkled with concern. “Are you all right?”

“Good Lord.” Lexie rolled her eyes. “The man tells me I’m being framed for murder and asks if I’m all right.” She glared at Stevenson, feeling the effects of the wine on her tongue. “Of course I’m not all right. I’m scared stupid. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Don’t panic. Stay calm.”

“Easy for you to say,” Lexie returned curtly.

“Watch your every move. Be careful. Keep your doors and windows locked, make sure no one follows you when you’re driving.”

“You’re thinking of the person who hit me at the stoplight the night I left Whitehead’s house?”

He nodded. “Possibly the murderer.”

Lexie hiccoughed, then giggled, then felt helplessness wash over her. “Be careful. Sure, I’ll be careful.” The waiter appeared to clear away the table and just as quickly disappeared.

“Are you certain you don’t know who was driving the car that hit you?” Gabe asked.

“No. Not a clue.”

Lexie was really feeling loopy now. Heavens to Betsy, she was a cheap drunk. That’s what happened when you didn’t drink very often. One or two drinks, and poof! You’re seeing pink elephants.

“See, at the time I was still upset about White-head groping me, so when this goober pulls up from
behind and hits me, I wasn’t thinking too straight. It was getting dark and I couldn’t see who was inside the vehicle, and I sure as heck didn’t get a license plate number.”

Lexie sighed and templed her hands on the table. “Which reminds me, I still haven’t had a chance to get that dent pulled out of my bumper.”

“Good.”

Lexie looked curiously at Deputy Dog. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll take a look at it before I leave tonight. Could be some paint was left by the other car. I can scrape it off some and possibly trace the make and model.”

“Be my guest. Scrape away.” Lexie stood. “Since you’re not going to arrest me, may I be excused from the table now?”

Gabe pushed his chair back and stood. “He reached into his tweed blazer and handed her a business card, one dark brow raised. “Call me if you think of anything that might be pertinent to the case. Or even just to talk.”

“Sure.” Lexie sensed he might have another interest in her besides the case. But she wasn’t really in her right mind with the wine coursing through her blood, so she might be imagining things. Best not to assume anything.

“Are you sure you’re all right? I could drive you home.”

Lexie hiccoughed again. “Oh, I’m peachy, detective. Just peachy. And by the way, thanks for dinner.”

No more alcohol for me,
Lexie told herself firmly as she watched Deputy Dog saunter to the front desk to pay the bill, then exit the restaurant.

She sighed and walked over to the bar to sit and wait for Lucy on one of the padded stools. “Ice water, please,” she asked the bartender, looking forward to a drink that would clear the wine from her senses.

It was important she get her wits about her. She had work to do.

The riot in Lexie’s head settled to a dull roar as she drank the ice water. She tapped a fake fingernail against the glass while the dizziness receded to a small corner of her brain. Minutes ticked by on the bar clock and Lexie turned to look around at a darkened room full of tables with small candlelit globe centerpieces. Picking through the sea of faces and bodies in a haze of smoke, Lexie still did not see Lucy anywhere. Maybe she’d chickened out.
Figures.

Disappointed, she slumped over her water and stirred the ice cubes with the thin red straw. A few seconds later, she felt a touch on her shoulder.

Heart pounding, Lexie whirled around, then relaxed. “Geez, Luce, you scared me half to death.”

“Sorry, sis.” Lucy stood behind Lexie clutching a flowered silk purse against her breasts like a shield. She wore a sparrow brown dress, brown loafers, and her typical sausage-effect support hose. “I
didn’t mean to frighten you. Gosh, your eyes are all bulged out like that Freddy Kruger fellow.”

Lexie raised a curious brow. “I didn’t think you watched trashy movies.”

“I don’t. I’ve only seen Kruger on the posters they put up at the theater. That’s wicked enough for me.”

“Pull up a seat,” Lexie told her sister.

Lips pursed tightly, Lucy glanced around, undoubtedly praying no one would recognize her. Then she slid daintily onto a bar stool, still clutching the bag to her chest. “You look so different, Lexie. You’re actually wearing a dress and it’s so short you can nearly see … ahem.” Even in the dark, her blush shone brightly. “And your makeup! My heavens! Mother would roll over in her grave. She’d say you look like a floozy.”

Annoyed, Lexie ignored the comment. “How did the church cleaning go? Does it glow with the glory of God from stem to stern?”

Lucy sniffed with irritation. “It’s finished and that’s all I’ll say. Have you found out anything so far?”

“Yes,” Lexie said miserably. “I’ll probably get a dead squirrel mailed to me in the next few days with a note that says ‘you’re next’.”

“Heavenly stars! What happened?” Lucy produced a fan from her purse, snapped it open, and furiously batted away the cigarette smoke swirling around them.

Lexie shook her head. “I just had dinner with
Detective Stevenson and he told me some disturbing news. Whitehead was killed with a butcher knife that probably came from the Saucy Lucy Café.”

“For Pete’s sake!” Lucy gasped. “You’re kidding!”

“Wish I was.”

“Are we to be arrested?”

“No, nothing like that.”

Lucy blinked. “But how can that be? A knife from our very own kitchen?”

“Gabe thinks somebody stole it. And he’s pretty sure they wanted to frame me for the murder. He’s also checking into a possible connection in Hugh and Whitehead’s deaths.”

“But why would someone do such foul deeds?”

“That’s what we’ve got to find out before things get any worse.”

Lucy also ordered an ice water from the bartender and sipped at it reflectively. “So Detective Stevenson came all the way over here from Weston-ville to tell you about the knife?”

Lexie nodded. “He wanted me to go down there to the police station, but with you busy at the church all week, I couldn’t get away. He took me to dinner tonight instead.”

“Oh, my. This is an interesting development indeed.”

Lexie looked Lucy right in the eye. “Don’t go getting any ideas. It was like a business dinner. Nothing more.”

“He is good looking in a rugged, outdoorsman
sort of way,” Lucy said in a dreamy voice. “And I positively adore that scruffy little beard of his. I wish Otis would grow one. It’d offset his bald head.”

“Lucy, focus. I have absolutely no romantic interest in Stevenson.”

“But you called him Gabe.”

Lexie shrugged. “He asked me to call him that since we’d be working together on this case. That’s all. Believe me, I’ve got enough trouble in my life without having a man around to complicate things.”

“Oh, sweetie. You are in such denial,” Lucy said.

“My life does not revolve around a man,” Lexie said. “And, pray God, it never will. The last two times I dated guys they both dropped dead. Of course, somebody murdered them …” A shiver danced up her spine.

From the corner of her eye, Lexie noticed a tall man in a cowboy hat step away from the jukebox, and yet another country song began to blare. It brought Lexie back to reality.

“Enough with the mushy talk, Luce. We have a mission.”

“Oh, my.” Lucy’s brow was speckled with droplets of glistening sweat. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know where to start. In fact, don’t you think you got enough information from Detective Stevenson so that we can leave? Right now?”

“No. We need to get some of these cowboys to talk. See if they knew Whitehead or heard anything about him since this was a regular hangout of his.”

“And how do we do that?”

Lexie took her sister’s arm. “Let’s go get a table.”

The sisters found a likely place to sit. They lowered themselves into chairs and stared out at the sea of bodies meandering amongst the tables and chairs or swaying together on the dance floor.

After ten minutes, Lucy said, “How are we supposed to get anyone to come over and talk with us?”

Lexie shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, usually I’m like insect repellent when it comes to men.”

“We need to think of something. I’m not sitting her all night sucking down smoke fumes and having my ears pounded by loud music.” Lucy batted at the air again with her fan. “Besides, Otis will begin to wonder what’s going on if I’m not home soon. Movies don’t last that long.”

Lexie smoothed her teased hair. “OK. Men are just a bunch of cavemen. Their agenda is pretty simple. Food. Women. Beer. We simply have to get their attention. I’d hate to think I dressed up like Barbarella for nothing.”

“Goodness,” Lucy said. “So, again I ask, what do we do?”

“Let’s order a couple of beers.”

“Alexandria! Alcohol is the devil’s brew!”

“Settle down, sis. We’ll just hold them for effect; it’ll make us appear more approachable. We don’t have to drink them. And wait a minute.” Lexie reached into her purse, fumbled a bit, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “I almost forgot. I bought these
at the gas station a few days ago. I thought they’d be perfect to have in here.”

Lucy gasped and clutched her heart. “Is this absolutely necessary?”

“Smoking makes you look tough, Luce. Men like that.” Lexie pulled out a cigarette for herself and gave one to Lucy. She produced a lighter, fumbled a little more and finally got her cigarette lit. Holding the end to her lips, Lexie pretended to inhale, then coughed, eyes watering.

Lexie lit Lucy’s cigarette as well, but she only held it between her fingers as far away from herself as she could. Not very convincing, Lexie thought.

A waitress came by and Lexie ordered two beers. Before long, the waitress came back and plopped them down on the table.

“God forgive us,” Lucy said. “Now that we have our props, what shall we do?”

Lexie cleared her throat and looked around, trying to observe some of the body language of the patrons. She crossed her legs in what she perceived to be a sexy pose and tossed her head. “I think we have to talk really loud,” Lexie said. “Try to get a man’s attention.”

“Really,” Lucy said. “This is too much.”

“Don’t forget to flick the ashes on that cigarette, sis.”

“Disgusting,” Lucy muttered as she tapped off the ashes in an ashtray and resumed holding her cigarette at arm’s length with the tips of her thumb
and forefinger.