An Uplifting Murder (38 page)

“You don’t have to bribe me to be with you.” Ted switched to a bad cowboy imitation: “I’ll saddle up my Mustang, ma’am, and be right over.”

Ted’s vintage car was a cozy haven on a cold winter day. His hello kiss was equally warm. “How are you?” he asked. “How’s Amelia?”

“She’s back in her own bed with Harry snoring beside her. I think Mom was glad to see her go back home, too. She and Stuart Little have their set routines. They like to watch television together.”

“I’m worried about you,” Ted said. “You took a nasty fall yesterday.”

“Just bruises,” Josie said, and shrugged. “They’ll heal.”

“Does it bother you that the security guard got the credit for catching Victoria?” Ted asked. “You did the actual work. I saw him being interviewed on television, acting like he was a great detective.”

“I’m glad,” Josie said. “I can’t be seen on camera. That takes the mystery out of mystery-shopping. The guard validated my story when he took credit for capturing Victoria. He was my insurance, in case Victoria escaped shoplifting charges. If store security caught her, Victoria couldn’t accuse me of stalking her.”

“Clever,” Ted said.

“Oh, it gets better,” Josie said. “Since Alyce and I had an unpleasant shopping experience at Bluestone’s, the store gave us both one-hundred-dollar gift certificates plus a day of beauty at the store salon. A massage, facial, and manicure will pamper my bruises.”

“You don’t need a day of beauty,” Ted said. “You’re beautiful the way you are. The killer is still out there. Do you want a bodyguard tonight?”

Josie warmed to his words. He believed Laura was innocent, too.

“Thanks, but I’ve imposed on you enough.”

“Josie, it wasn’t an imposition,” Ted said. “I like being with you and Amelia. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight if you want.”

“Amelia needs her routine, Ted. These last few days have been hard on all of us. Last night I fixed her favorite comfort food for dinner, macaroni and cheese. We played with the cat. We turned in early. Tonight, my big plans include doing the laundry. We need a few nights of dull, normal things so Amelia will feel safe.”

“What do you need?” Ted asked, his voice husky.

Whoa, Josie thought. This is going way too fast. Time to put the brakes on.

“I need you to drop me off at the front door of Sale Away,” Josie said. “I have to find out if Cody has the key that unlocks Laura’s cell door.”

Chapter 41

Sale Away was an outlet store in purgatory, where shopping was a punishment. Customers grimly filled carts with items prized for low price rather than high style. Josie wondered if they had been condemned to search for bargains.

Ted drove twice around the potholed parking lot. He saw no sign of the head of Sale Away security in his golf cart, or the pack of mangy dogs.

“I’m coming inside with you,” he said.

“Please, wait in the parking lot,” Josie said. “Cody doesn’t know you. He’ll talk better to a lone woman.”

“What if he attacks you?” Ted said.

“In a store with staff and customers around?”

“If you’re not out in twenty minutes, I’ll come looking for you.”

“Thirty,” Josie said.

“Twenty-five,” Ted countered.

“Okay,” she said. “But there’s no need to worry. I’ll be inside a store, protected by a hero.”

Ted’s face fell. “And outside, too,” she added. She dashed out of the Mustang’s steamy interior and ducked inside the building. A young woman with a flour-sack figure pushed by Josie and smiled. She had no front teeth.

Josie watched herself walk through the sliding doors on a closed-circuit television. The security guard at the entrance nodded at her.

“I’m looking for Cody John Wayne,” she said.

“He’s in his office in the back of the store,” the guard said. “Straight down Aisle Eight, ma’am. Plumbing supplies.”

Josie felt dwarfed by the aisle’s shower stalls, their glass doors already coated with soap scum. Showerheads stuck out of wall displays like monster appendages. Josie wondered if the dusty sinks would ever come clean.

The plumbing-supplies aisle dead-ended under a sign that said RESTROOMS. Josie smiled for the first time in Sale Away.

Cody was in his office with the door open. He looked less than heroic at his desk, munching a massive bear claw. Pastry flakes decorated his chest.

“May I help you?” He brushed off his uniform shirt.

“I was at Desiree Lingerie in Plaza Venetia the day you picked up your wife’s order.” Josie sat down uninvited in his flimsy guest chair. Cody glared at her. Josie’s smile faltered. “That was the day Frankie Angela Martin was murdered. My friend Laura Ferguson is in jail awaiting trial for killing her.”

“I believe we had this conversation the other day, ma’am,” Cody said. “I couldn’t help you then, and I can’t help you now.”

“You might,” Josie said. “Laura didn’t kill Frankie. She has to get out of jail. Her pregnant daughter is sick and she needs her mother.”

“Like I said, I’m sorry for her trouble, but I can’t help.”

Josie reached into her purse for the news story with Victoria’s photo. “At least take a look. Have you seen this woman before? Victoria was at the mall the day Frankie was murdered. I think she is Frankie’s killer.”

Cody put down the pastry and studied Victoria’s photo. “I can’t say she’s familiar. Why show me?”

“I thought you might have seen her at Plaza Venetia when you were there. She’s a shoplifter. Maybe you’ve come across her at Sale Away. In the line of duty.”

“You think someone who looks like her would shop at this store?” Cody’s scorn singed Josie’s eyebrows. “Did you get a look at our customers? Most live in trailer parks. Hell, half look like they live under bridges. This classy blonde wouldn’t be caught dead shopping—or shoplifting—at this store. Let me tell you for the last time: I don’t know anything about that lady’s murder. I don’t go into restroom stalls and suffocate women with plastic.”

Josie froze. “How did you know she was suffocated in a restroom stall?”

“Huh?”

“I said, how did you know Frankie was suffocated in a restroom stall?”

“It was on TV,” Cody said.

“You said you never watch TV news because you couldn’t keep the stories straight.”

“Then you must have told me,” Cody said.

“No, I said Frankie was murdered at the mall. I never mentioned a restroom. You just told me how she died and where.”

“My wife must have said something.”

“No!” Josie said.

Cody turned angry. “Why are you bothering me, lady? The police already caught the killer. They’re a hell of a lot smarter about crime than a—what are you, exactly?”

“Mystery shopper,” Josie said.

“Well, you better leave that mystery to the professionals. You’re slandering this Victoria, calling her a killer. What did she do to you?”

“She threatened me and my daughter.”

“How? Did she call you? Send letters? Or go to
your
office?”

“She put blood on my car windshield. Then she took a hose from my yard and drenched my car. It’s still covered in ice.”

“I still don’t see how that threatened your daughter,” Cody said.

“I saw her footprints in the snow leading to my daughter’s bedroom window. Victoria was trying to get my garden hose, but I didn’t know that. Our house was in an uproar.” Josie felt small and foolish. “You have a son. You must understand.”

Cody’s face turned stroke red. “What do you mean by dragging my son into this?”

He stood up. Josie realized he wasn’t much taller than Laura. Or Mrs. Mueller.

Mrs. Mueller, who looked like a Russian general in her bulky winter coat.

Mrs. Mueller, whom Ted had mistaken for a man.

Mrs. Mueller, who had provoked Josie’s mother into a shouting match. Jane had waved a butcher knife in her kitchen, swearing she’d kill the woman.

The Jane scene was replaced in Josie’s mind by Amelia, upset that Josie couldn’t see the details that made Harry a classic tabby cat.
No, Mom, you’re not looking,
Amelia had insisted.

Josie saw the details now. All of them. Cody John Wayne, a man gunned down by carjackers and taken to Holy Redeemer Hospital. A hero tormented by Frankie because he wore panty hose on cold nights.

Cody, a father who loved his son, Tyler Dylan Wayne. The newspaper headline said Tyler was a hero like his father: HEROES RUN IN THIS FAMILY.

Frankie had taunted Cody about his hero son. Josie’s hairstylist was sure the teenage Tyler was no hero, that he’d let his friend Randy drive drunk and crash his car. Had Frankie pushed Cody to the brink, the way Mrs. Mueller had driven Jane to make threats of murder?

“I have work to do,” Cody said. His face was unreadable. “I need to make the rounds of the parking lot. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Cody reached for his outdoor gear in a precarious pile on the wall hook. The cheap hook was loaded with heavy winter wear and pulling out of the Sheetrock. Cody yanked off his fleece-lined blue uniform jacket. The hook came out of the wall in a shower of dust. A long, dark coat and a black knit muffler fell to the floor. In the pile, Josie saw a silky black-and-white scarf.

“You don’t see the details, Mom,”
Amelia had said. Now Josie saw these details: Cody didn’t look as big without his bulky uniform jacket.

Cody had worn a dark coat on the day of the murder. Like that coat on the floor. A coat that could be either a man’s or a woman’s in a grainy mall video. If a man in a dark coat hid his face with a head scarf, he could easily be mistaken for a woman.

Cody had killed Frankie. He had the best motive possible: She was tormenting his son.

Josie swiped the scarf off the pile on the floor. “You followed Frankie into the restroom and killed her. You wore this scarf to cover your hair. The police thought you were a woman.”

“You’re nuts,” he said. “That scarf is a present for my wife.”

“Then why didn’t you give it to her?” Josie said. “Why hang it on a hook in your office?”

“Because I—” Cody reached for the nightstick on his utility belt and swung at Josie. She ducked.

“You don’t want to hurt me,” Josie said. “There are too many people around.”

“Is that so?” Cody said. “Did you have trouble getting back here through the crowds of customers?” He swung the heavy nightstick again, catching Josie’s shoulder. She screamed and held up the guest chair like a shield.

“See how many people came running when you screamed?” he said. “Nobody. We’ve had wild-dog attacks on the lot. That’s what I’ll tell the police after I find your body in the parking lot. The bite marks will cover any bruises.”

He took a third swipe at Josie and hit her shoulder again. The pain made her so dizzy, she clung to her chair shield. Her thoughts were thick and slow. She knew she had to get the pepper spray out of her purse. She backed toward the office door, holding the chair in front of her with one hand while she searched in her purse for the pepper spray with the other.

Kleenex. Wallet. Keys. She threw them on the floor.

Cody’s nightstick caught her upper arm again. Josie went down, still holding her purse, and hid her head under the chair seat.

Cody whacked the chair seat, splitting it in two. Josie ran out the door, jamming the broken chair in the doorway.

She dashed for the plumbing aisle, but Cody was too close. He reached for her long knit scarf. She slipped from his grasp and fled into the women’s restroom, barricading herself in the handicapped stall.