Dressed To Kill (3 page)

I didn’t listen to music when I ran. Not like when I used to run in the city. This was more like having my own noise machine. Calming my nerves and relaxing my muscles, even when my workday had been rough.

Checking the time on my watch, I reluctantly turned back toward the parking lot. I had to get home and cleaned up before Greg arrived for our evening at the winery. I didn’t want to give him any reason to back out of the rehearsal. I was sure our relationship was moving into the next stage, the big one that all women dream about. If things kept going this well, next month I was going to ask him to take ballroom classes with me. When I knew he wouldn’t say no.

Climbing up the stairs to the parking lot, I was surprised to see two cars. There hadn’t been anyone on the beach today. Most days Emma and I had the place to ourselves, no matter what time we ran. I clipped Emma’s leash back on her collar and started toward the entrance to the road.

Passing the first car, I saw it was empty but there were two people kissing in the second. I smiled, though the couple looked a little old to be parking. The man had white in his perfectly coiffed hair. The woman’s brilliant red hair was pulled into a messy bun at the back of her head. He must have heard Emma and me approaching because he lifted his head and looked right at me.

It was Kent Paine. And Sherry wasn’t the woman he was kissing.

I
don’t think I stopped running until I hit the front porch. Letting Emma wander the house, I ran upstairs to get dressed for rehearsal. The good news was I didn’t have to worry about spilling the beans to Sherry about her boyfriend’s indiscretions. The woman and I barely talked. The bad news was I knew eventually I’d tell Greg and he’d probably want to tell Sherry. Or maybe not. It wasn’t as if I’d caught them naked and doing the ugly. Honestly, what responsibility did I have to say a word to anyone?

My mind was still debating the pros and cons of the question as I finished getting ready for our date. I curled up on the sofa to wait for Greg, trying to read the latest mystery release I’d grabbed from the shop. It was my turn to pick the book for our readers’ club and I still hadn’t chosen. That was the problem; there were too many good books. As I read, my attention left the troubles of the real world and focused on the antics of two retired sisters who gave cruise tours.
Senior Showdown
was the name of the book, and even though it sounded like something out of a spaghetti Western, the plot had hooked me from the first page.

Loud knocking pulled me off the cruise ship and back into reality. No doubt about it, I was choosing this book for our reading group. Especially now that the woman had befriended a muscular beefcake lifeguard who always seemed to be into trouble. I swung the door open and Greg stood there, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Uh-oh. What did you do now?” I took the flowers and gave him a kiss on the cheek as he walked in.

“Can’t a guy bring his best girl flowers without the third degree?” Greg squatted to Emma’s level and let the dog give him one of her patented puppy hugs. Of course, being almost full grown, she almost tipped him over.

“Now I know something’s up. Don’t tell me you have to work tonight.” I headed to the kitchen for a vase. As I trimmed the ends and dusted the water with the flower food I kept on hand for the summer’s flower bounty, he put his arms around my waist and kissed the back of my neck.

Chills flowed through my body.

He spoke with his lips still lightly brushing my neck. “I thought I might be able to convince you to stay home tonight. We could play hooky from the rehearsal.”

I put the mixed bouquet into the vase. “Only if you call Darla.”

“Not on your life.” Greg stepped back and watched me put the vase on the kitchen table. “I guess it was worth a try.”

“Why is it that you have no problem telling me no, but you seem to be scared of most of the women in town?” I lifted on tippy toes and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Especially Darla?”

“I’m not scared. I’m polite. Besides, I have to keep up the strong alpha façade.”

I chuckled. “You know façade means fake.”

“Are you ready, or do you want to play with your catch for a while longer?” He walked to the door and glanced down at Emma. “You want her in or out?”

“Outside, please. Kevin came by yesterday and sunk that stretch offence she’s been digging at with concrete. She won’t escape in that spot.” Emma had taken to leaving the yard and sunning herself on Esmeralda’s front porch across the road. Our local fortune-teller/police dispatcher didn’t mind the visits, but I worried about Emma running out in front of a car. I glanced at the bill sitting on my counter. “He tried to talk me into doing the entire backyard that way, but I’m hoping she’ll grow out of this stage.”

“Hope springs eternal.” Greg opened the door and Emma trotted out. He threw her a chewy bone. “Be good.”

“Like that’s going to happen.” I grabbed my purse and swung the long strap over my head.

As we walked into town, we fell into an easy silence. There’d be plenty of time to catch up on our day’s activities later on. Now I wanted to enjoy the moment, being with him.

Most of the cast had already gathered by the time we arrived. Matt Randall, the winery’s new manager, and Darla’s new boyfriend, greeted us with two red Solo cups filled with beer. I studied the contents of the cup, then raised my eyebrows. “Beer?”

Matt grinned. “Not just beer. Coastal Spring Ale. The winery’s first addition of on-site brewed micro beers to our product line. I think you’ll like it.”

I sipped the smooth clear ale. The light brew tasted of summer and a little tang of strawberry. I took another sip. “It’s good.”

Matt’s smile widened. “I wanted something that would appeal to the non-beer drinker since most of our clientele are die-hard wine drinkers. Maybe we’ll get a following, maybe not, but it’s been a lot of fun.”

“Let me know when you need a taster for the next creation. I’ll be glad to be a guinea pig.” Greg slapped Matt on the arm. The two men hadn’t spent a lot of time together as Matt was a recent addition to our South Cove community. He still lived in Bakerstown, the closest big town north on the highway, but he spent most of his days at the winery with Darla. I wondered if I should arrange a couples’ night over at the house. We could invite Matt and Darla, Amy and Justin, and—I paused. I’d probably have to invite Aunt Jackie and Josh. And maybe Toby and Elisa, if they were still dating. After the holidays Toby had been pretty quiet about his social life. Maybe she’d thrown down the gauntlet, asking our bachelor barista to make a relationship commitment.

“You’re lost in thought.” Greg took my cup out of my hand and set it at our table. Then he helped me slip out of my light jacket.

“Sorry, I was planning.” I slipped into a chair, glancing around for Darla, who was our director as well as being the Chicago bordello madam where the mystery had been set.

Greg chuckled. “Lord help us, what are you plotting now? Should I guess or do you want to spring it on me later?”

“I’m not that bad. Besides, you’ll have fun.”

Greg mumbled something as Darla and Matt walked up to the microphone at the front of the room.

I leaned closer and whispered, “I didn’t hear you.”

“I said, that’s what you said about tonight’s activities. And I’m definitely not having fun.” Greg pulled me close into a hug. “Okay, well, maybe a little.”

I leaned against him while Darla walked us through the evening’s lists of events. We’d get into costume first, then line up on the stage, where any changes that needed to be made would be noted by the cast’s self-appointed costume designer and seamstress, Esmeralda. She’d declined an acting part claiming she never knew when the “sight” would come on and she didn’t want to mess up the play. After that, we’d have a full-run dress rehearsal. “I plan on wrapping up the rehearsal no later than nine,” Darla announced. “So be quick about your costume changes. Girls have the Breakwater room, and guys, you’re in my office. Your costumes are waiting in the room.”

Matt leaned into the microphone. “Fellows, follow me. The office has been prestocked with pitchers of ale to keep your throat from getting dry.”

Greg and the other men in the room cheered as they stood to join Matt.

As I walked toward the Breakwater room, Amy Newman slipped in step next to me. Amy was South Cove’s city planner, City Hall receptionist, and secretary to Mayor Baylor. She was also my best friend. Her short blond pixie cut bobbed with each step, showing her enthusiasm for the night’s activities. “Justin would follow Matt anywhere if he thought free beer was involved.”

“Him and every other man in the room. What’s up with that?” I teased. “Darla better have some alcohol ready in our dressing room, too.”

Darla didn’t disappoint us. In the Breakwater room, a table had been set with bottles of wine on ice, glasses, and chocolate-covered strawberries. The women gathered around the table, filling glasses before they found their costumes. Amy and I found our bags labeled with our names together near the end of the room.

“I haven’t changed in front of this many women since high school P.E.,” Amy grumbled.

The woman changing next to us eyed my thin friend. “And you still look like you did back then. Slender and gorgeous. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.” She patted her stomach. “You’re about to see what happens to real women as they age.”

“You look fine,” I assured her. Although I’d been thinking the same thing. I guess it’s human nature to question the state of your body, especially undressed in front of a group. “I do have this nightmare every once in a while.”

“Standing in front of Mr. Higgins’s sophomore English class doing a book report in your underwear?” She grinned. “Rotating nightmare number 434.”

Amy laughed. “It’s Algebra II for me. Although for some reason, the entire football team is in the class. Which I know isn’t true since they took Consumer Math.”

Darla called time and we hurried out to the stage to stand in order of our appearance in the play. Henry Montgomery checked us off against his list of cast members, then Esmeralda and Darla ran through the costume check. When she reached Greg and me, she paused.

“These are perfect. You did good, Jill.” Esmeralda touched the red fringe that layered my short dress. “Even the shoes are perfect for the time period.”

I’d gotten lucky and found a pair of ankle-strapped heels at a thrift store in Bakerstown last Monday when I’d gone shopping. I was about to tell her where I’d found them when she spoke again.

“You must take caution this time. You can either be the key or the clue.” Esmeralda had frozen in front of me.

I looked into her face and saw the blank stare. She’d gone all vision-glassy-eyed, right in the middle of the rehearsal. Although I didn’t really believe she could talk to the dead, I had seen her fall into this trance state more than once. And her predictions, although strangely worded at times, made complete sense later. I shivered and stepped closer to Greg.

He slipped his arm around me while trying to get Esmeralda’s attention. “What did you say?”

Her eyes cleared and she smiled. “Jill did very well with both of your costumes. Now, don’t try to tell me you dressed yourself, Greg King.” She nodded to Darla, who checked off our names before moving on to the next person in line. Darla’s eyes were wide and she looked like I felt—scared to talk about what had just happened.

I sighed, letting my shoulders sag a little bit. “I hate it when she singles me out like that. It’s never a good sign.”

Greg squeezed me and walked me back to our table, where we’d wait for our turn on stage. “She has to keep her image up even with the town folk. I’ll talk to her tomorrow and ask her to stop playing with you if it freaks you out.”

“It’s no big deal.” I tried to shrug it off, but the fortune-teller’s words kept ringing in my head. Quickly, the costume check was over and it was time to start the rehearsal. Greg and I didn’t come on until the second act, so I settled in to watch the fun.

“Act One, Amy and Justin, enter stage left,” Darla called out. As the curtain opened, I saw Amy, but she wasn’t in the middle of the stage. Justin was there, leaning over the body. I frowned. “Someone got their directions mixed up. We don’t have a body until scene two.”

I watched Justin stand and scan the room. His gaze stopped at Greg, who was already moving toward the stage.

“It’s Kent Paine,” Justin stammered. “He’s really dead.”

B
y the time Greg had secured the scene and talked to the entire cast and crew of
Dying for Trouble
, a name that had seemed cute when we made the playbills, it was long after midnight. After changing out of my costume, I rode home with Amy and a still visibly shaken Justin.

“I’ve never seen a dead body before, much less touched one,” he murmured under his breath. Darla had opened the bar in the back of the winery, and after Greg questioned each person, they were directed there to wait until he let everyone leave. Justin had taken full advantage of his waiting time, and now, he was drunk off his butt.

“He gets weepy when he’s drunk?” I turned and stared at the crumpled man in the backseat.

Amy glanced up at the rearview mirror. “Never before. I think seeing Kent threw him over the edge.”

Justin moaned and laid his head back. “There’s no going back from dead.”

“Now he’s a philosopher?” I smiled at Amy. “You going to be able to get him up the stairs to your apartment?”

“Austin will help if I can’t.” Amy shrugged. “If he’s not home, I’ll leave Justin in the car until tomorrow when he sobers up.”

Dustin Austin owned Amy’s apartment building. Austin, as he liked to be called, lived in the apartment on the third floor. On the ground floor, he ran the only bike rental shop in town. During the summer he set up a trailer on the beach so he could work on his tan in his downtime. Austin had been a hippie from the time he dropped out of an Ivy League college back East. The man reeked of the sixties, wearing his tie-dyed T-shirts and cargo shorts, a pair of Birkenstocks always on his large feet. I’d yet to get him to attend one of the Business-to-Business meetings, or what he called the Gathering of the Establishment. He tolerated me as a pawn of The Man, but he adored Amy.

Amy pulled Justin’s Grand Cherokee into my driveway. I gave her a quick hug before opening the door. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No way would I let you walk home.” Amy looked back at the now sleeping Justin. “I can’t believe Kent’s dead. He seemed like such a nice guy.”

“Not from what I’ve been hearing. I think he and Sherry were meant for each other. They both only cared about themselves.” I thought about seeing Kent with the woman at the beach yesterday. I probably should tell Greg before I started gossiping to Amy, but I was torn.

A groan from the backseat stopped my internal debate. Amy rolled her eyes. “I guess I’d better get my traumatized boyfriend home and tucked in bed.”

Amy didn’t pull the car out of the driveway until I’d found my keys, unlocked my door, and turned on the living room lights. I waved and Amy responded with a quick beep of the horn. After I let Emma out for a quick backyard break, I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge. I considered tea, but I felt beat. Watching out the window and waiting for Emma to return, I realized what Amy had said in the car.
Boyfriend.
She’d moved past the Hank the Jerk phase, finally.

A smile teased at my lips as I let my dog in and locked the house up for the night. Amy and Justin were official.

 

No smile rested on my face the next morning when the alarm blared way too early. I dragged myself out of bed and sat at the table for a few minutes power-drinking the coffee I’d set on delayed brew last night. Emma ran around the backyard looking for an unwise rabbit and I wanted to return to bed. Maybe I could invent a coffee patch that filled you with caffeine on mornings like this. I discarded the thought. Part of the experience was the feel of the brew warming your body up like a fine race car.

I left Emma outside while I got ready for my morning shift. After a shower and pulling on my favorite capris and floral tank, I felt almost human. I checked her food and water, gave my dog a hug, and got a wet slurp of a kiss in return.

“We’ll run when I get home,” I promised. The last few weeks had been busy with getting ready for the now-postponed mystery dinner theater. Coffee, Books, and More was a major sponsor, along with South Cove Winery and South Cove Bed-and-Breakfast. Jackie had designed the marketing promos, including getting a free announcement on the local radio and television stations. Now she had to rework all of the promotions with a new date. I didn’t even want to see my aunt today. She’d be grumpy as a bear.

When I arrived at the store, Sasha Smith, our newest employee, sat at one of the patio tables, reading. She looked up at me as I unlocked the door, her coffee-colored skin almost glowing in the soft early morning light. She held up the book she’d been absorbed in, an advanced reading copy of a new adult series. Sasha had taken on the role of our young adult and new adult expert. She had blown through all the publishers’ advanced readers copies I’d set aside, hoping for some time to read.

“Hey, boss.” Her honey Southern tone made the address almost tender. “I love, love, love this author. I think she’ll be the first read in our teen book club. The kids will adore this book, just enough angst. I’m so glad you let me spin the older kids off into their own group. It opens up a whole new batch of books and subject matter.”

“I’m so glad you agreed to take on another club. Sorry if I kept you waiting.” I flipped on the lights as we entered the store, the smell of books and coffee filling my senses.

“I don’t mind waiting, it gives me time to get a few pages done. Olivia hasn’t been sleeping well this week, so I’m reading a lot of Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein until she finally drops off.” Sasha laid the book on the counter and tucked her purse into my office on a shelf. After washing her hands, she started a pot of coffee. “The teachers at the center think it’s a stage.”

“If you need some time off to take her to the doctor or something . . .” I hesitated. I didn’t know if poor sleep habits were something a kid needed to see a doctor for or not. Heck, what I knew about kids mostly focused on what books they’d read and at what age level.

“She’s fine. Healthy as a horse. She gets checkups over at the clinic on a regular basis. I think she is just realizing Mommy’s not around as much anymore.” Sasha smiled. “Single parenting has its drawbacks.”

“Well, if you need something, all you have to do is ask.” I opened up the dessert case and pulled out two pieces of vanilla bean cheesecake. “Like breakfast. You want one of these? I’m going to cut open a fresh cheesecake for the display later this morning.”

“Don’t have to twist my arm. Let me finish the opening list, and I’ll sit down with you until the commuters hit.” Typically, on a Thursday, the morning shift was slow. I’d added Sasha to the schedule full-time at the first of the year. Next month, I’d let her work several shifts alone, but for now, she always had a backup—and no one’s hours were affected. When she did start working by herself, I’d give her some of Jackie’s shifts or mine so I didn’t short Toby. We worked on the opening, and then I opened my laptop to my bookseller’s website and started making a list for next week’s order.

Sasha joined me, bringing over two cups of coffee and the cheesecake. “So you’re okay with the after-school club? Jackie thinks it’s a good idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea. Ever since we installed free Wi-Fi, the teens have been hanging here after school anyway. Why not get them excited about books?” I pulled up the book she’d been reading that morning. “This one’s not out until July. But the book is part of a series. You want to start with book one?”

We made plans, ordered twenty copies to start with, and framed out a timeline. Jackie could take over the promotional part tomorrow night when she worked with Sasha. Fridays were my day off with Toby opening, then Sasha joining him midmorning and staying to help out Jackie. All in all, I had to admit, Coffee, Books, and More was running like a well-oiled machine.

Which made me worry. Nothing came easy, but not seeing a shoe dropping at the present, I pushed aside my unease.

I’d settled into reading a contemporary romance, putting aside the murder mystery I’d been devouring. It seemed wrong to be reading about a murder when we had found a dead body the night before. Of course, Doc Ames, the county coroner in Bakerstown, could have ruled Kent’s death due to natural causes by now, but you never knew.

Especially in South Cove.

The bell over the door rang and Darla Taylor burst in. She’d taken to running the mile from the winery to town three to four times a week. I’d even seen her out on the beach some days when I ran with Emma. She’d been diligent, and the effects were starting to show. She glanced at Sasha, then found me over on the couch and beelined directly for me. Sasha brought her a large glass of water.

“Thanks, doll.” Darla sucked down half of the water, pausing to breathe. She pointed to the menu board. “Get me a skinny latte, too.”

As Sasha disappeared to make the coffee, Darla finished the last of the water and wiped her mouth with her hand. She sank into the easy chair next to the couch. “I swear, getting in shape is going to kill me.”

I used a bookmark to keep my place and set the book on the coffee table. This wouldn’t be a quick conversation. “You look amazing.”

A small smile creeped onto her lips. “Let’s just say I look better. I’ve got a long way to go.”

“A journey starts with a few first steps,” I quoted a Facebook post I’d seen the other day. “Or something like that.”

Darla waved her hand. “Enough about me, what have you found out about Kent? Does Greg know who killed him yet?”

“Darla, the body was only found last night. I’m sure Greg doesn’t even know if it was murder.” I’d known Darla would be looking for insider information. She wrote for the
South Cove Examiner
part-time and had a nose for gossip, if not news.

“That’s not what I’ve heard.” She pulled out a small notebook she’d stuffed in a fanny pack she’d clipped around her waist, along with a five-dollar bill that she handed to Sasha as she dropped off Darla’s coffee. “Thanks, keep the change.”

Sasha disappeared behind the counter and I noticed her book disappeared, too. I’d gone and hired another book addict. Smiling, I turned back to Darla and her notepad. “You might as well just put that away. Apparently you know more than I do about the case. Why do you think it was murder?”

“I was cleaning up the stage when Doc Ames and Greg were talking about Kent.” She flushed at my look. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, if that’s what you’re thinking. I can’t help it if they were talking loud enough for me to hear.”

I couldn’t help myself; I leaned forward. “So what did they say?”

Darla glanced around, checking the empty shop for listening ears, then whispered, “They found cocaine in a Baggie in his pocket.”

“No.” I thought about the always cheery banker. “Kent Paine did drugs?”

Darla shrugged. “At least they thought it was cocaine. Greg said he would send it to the lab today.”

“Couldn’t that have killed him? You hear about people dying from drug overdoses all the time. Why do you think it was murder?” Darla wasn’t telling me the whole story, I could tell.

She pressed her lips together, then blurted, “What, you think a healthy man just dies?”

I thought about Darla’s statements and shook my head. “I think you are writing fiction instead of your normal, factual news articles. You don’t even know if it was drugs they found.”

“I guess you’re right. Ever since we had that problem at The Castle, I’ve been seeing ducks.” Darla leaned back again and sipped her coffee.

“Ducks?” Sometimes I had a hard time following her logic.

Darla waved her hand in the air. “You know, if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s a duck? I’m saying it’s weird for a guy to just die. So, it looks like a duck.”

“I think you’re reading too much into this. Kent died. Until Greg says different, I’m going to go with unfortunate incident rather than murder.” I sipped the last of my now cold coffee and stood to get a refill.

“Just wait, you’ll find out I’m right.” Darla quacked a few times for emphasis, then finished off her coffee. When I walked to the counter, she followed, stuffing her notebook back into her fanny pack and zipping the leather case closed. “I’ll be back when you have something to tell me.”

As Sasha and I watched Darla leave the shop, I wondered if her radar for gossip was spot-on. Greg hadn’t called yet. Maybe it was time to see if my boyfriend wanted to buy me lunch or if he was too busy trying to solve the latest murder.

The oversized clock on the wall showed eleven. Sasha had the shop under control, Toby would be here in thirty minutes—I could take a break to call Greg. I excused myself to the back office and hit speed dial on my cell. While I waited for him to answer, I stood at the back door and watched birds wander through the small parking lot behind the shops. Mayor Baylor had proposed making all the back lots into a public parking lot, but so far, the shop owners had resisted, each side of the street making strong arguments why it should be on the other side of Main. Besides, with the beach parking and the available street parking, we were okay for all but the largest of our festivals, when people parked on the side of the entry road and walked into town. Like I did each morning.

The phone rang into voice mail and I heard Greg’s deep voice booming out a request to leave a message. Thoughts of Lille’s fish and chips ran through my mind, so after leaving a message about lunch and a quick, “thinking about you,” I dialed Amy’s work line.

This time a real human picked up. Or what passed for a human. “South Cove City Hall,” Mayor Baylor barked into the phone. “What do you want?”

“Good morning, Mayor.” I pulled out the sweet, charm soaked voice I used, well, never. “I take it Amy is out on a break?”

“The girl is probably surfing, since she called in
sick.
I don’t know why I keep her on.” I could hear paper being shuffled loudly on the desk. “You’ll have to call back tomorrow, I can’t find anything to write a message on.”