Dressed To Kill (4 page)

I was about to tell him to look in Amy’s left-hand drawer in her desk, but he hadn’t waited for an answer. The line was dead.

Now I was oh-for-two on lunch buddies. I heard Toby’s voice in the front and made a strategic decision. I grabbed my purse and the book I’d been reading. Heading out to the front, I watched as Toby pulled on an apron and organized his counter. Sasha had commented on the stupidity of each of us reorganizing the cups and utensils at the beginning of each shift, but I noticed the mornings she worked with me, she set up the counter with her own method, too. I guess we all knew our way was the
right
way.

“Hey, Toby, you hear from Greg this morning?” I leaned over the counter, checking the status of the dessert case, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Don’t even start. You know Greg gets testy when I tell you anything about open investigations. I’m not getting another lecture about leaking sensitive police information.” Toby sipped his coffee. “Man, this hits the spot. I’m used to my evening shifts being pretty quiet. Instead, I spent the shift interviewing all those pretend actors for your play.”

“They’re called amateurs for a reason, Toby. Besides, I thought you were going to audition for a part?”

“No time. Between working here and for your boyfriend, and trying to see Elisa at least once a week, I’m booked. I barely get six hours of sleep most nights.” He grinned. “No wonder I ran through chicks like bottled water. They need a lot of attention.”

“But she’s worth it, right?” I liked the fact Toby was finally in a real relationship. We’d even double-dated a couple of times, taking in a show in the city or a late dinner when Tim took over the on-call for a night. Greg had been hinting that we should sneak away alone for a weekend trip while the tourist season was a little slow, but finding Kent’s body would put a wrench in that plan, especially if Darla was correct and it was murder.

Dating a cop was hard. No way around it.

Toby cocked his head, watching my thoughts flash across my face. “There’s not trouble between you and the boss, is there?”

“We were talking about you and Elisa, not my love life.”

He shrugged. “So? I hear things.”

Now he had me hooked. “Like what things?”

He glanced around the still empty shop, looking like he was praying for a busload of tourists to flood into the store. “Okay, he told me you were ticked off about his report to the Business-to-Business meeting. That’s all, I swear.”

“Men are such gossips.” I smiled. “I was mad. But we talked about the issue and he promised never, ever to talk to Sherry again.”

“Boss—” he started, then stopped.

“What?” I laughed. “I know, it’s a stupid rule, but I needed some reassurance, especially since Sherry opened a business down the street. We’ll be running into her day and night now. I guess I need to get over myself, but she can be so, well, pushy. At least when it comes to Greg.”

Toby ran his hand over his face. “Look, you didn’t hear it from me, right?”

I stared at the man across from me. “I didn’t hear what?”

“I mean, it could be nothing,” Toby started.

Sasha came up next to him behind the counter. “You better spit it out, boy. Jill looks like she’s going to climb over the counter and shake it out of you.”

Toby cleared his throat. “As I came into town a few minutes ago, I saw Greg going into Vintage Duds.”

M
y cell rang as I bit into the first of the onion rings I’d ordered as an appetizer to my fish and chips lunch. Add in the vanilla milk shake I’d sucked down half of already, and my total calorie count would feed ten women on a low calorie diet for a day. I glanced at the display. Greg.

“What?” I answered, not hiding my frustration.

Greg laughed. “I guess I’m too late. The gossip mill has already told you I paid a visit to Sherry today.”

“Why would you say that?” I had to give him props, he wasn’t hiding the fact.

He paused. “Where are you? Lille’s?”

“It
is
lunchtime.” Okay, so I was still being a brat. He probably had a perfectly good reason to have visited his ex-wife and turned off his cell phone.

“Order me the meat loaf plate, I’ll be right there.” He clicked off the phone.

I thought about ignoring his request, but then I thought about his baby blue eyes and how his chin stubble tickled my ear when he whispered totally inappropriate but funny lines while we were watching movies. I waved Carrie down.

By the time he arrived, his food was sitting on the other side of the booth, waiting. He quickly kissed me, then sat and drank down half his iced tea. He snagged an onion ring off my plate. “I’m starving. I’ve been going since I sent you home with Amy last night. How is Justin doing? The man was freaking when I interviewed him.”

“I don’t know. I tried to call Amy earlier, but she took the day off. Maybe Justin needed some TLC from the hangover he probably has this morning. He was pretty hammered last night.” I leaned back and watched him devour half of the meat loaf. “So you were at Sherry’s to talk about Kent?”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything, digging his fork into the pile of mashed potatoes. He held up a bite. “These are so good.”

I watched him eat and nibbled at my French fries. I tried another tactic. “So Darla’s saying Kent was murdered.”

“Ah, shit.” Greg dropped his fork and I leaned back. “I wish she’d stop spreading rumors so we’d have a least a day to investigate.”

“Was it murder?” Now I was intrigued, my fried-to-perfection fish forgotten. “Who would want to kill Kent?”

He finished his iced tea and set the glass near the end of the table, waving to catch Carrie’s attention. Then he picked his fork back up and dug into the mashed potatoes again. Before he took the bite, he shrugged. “Not a clue.”

“You’re mean.” I dipped a fry into ketchup and bit into the crunchy slice of salty heaven.

He scraped the last bite of gravy off his plate. Greg was a member of the clean plate club. At least when he was hungry and liked the food in front of him. Once when I made a creamy shrimp over potato gnocchi, he picked out all the shrimp and left the gnocchi. But at least he tried it. The man could be a picky eater. When Carrie picked up his plate and refilled his glass, she paused.

“You want some apple pie? Fresh this morning from Sadie’s bakery.” She glanced at me. “Looks like you still have a ways to go before you need dessert.”

“Thanks. Bring over a piece with a scoop of ice cream on the top.” Greg grabbed one of my fish fillets and consumed it in two bites.

“So why did you visit Vintage Duds?” I grabbed the last piece of fish before it disappeared like the other one.

“I’m a cop. I investigate. Until Doc Ames tells me Kent’s time on this world was up naturally, I question people.” Greg settled for a few more of my fries. “You’re not going to let this go, are you? Sherry was at the winery just before our practice started. The tapes show her sitting in her car for ten minutes, then storming into the tasting room. Twenty minutes later, she gets back in her car.”

“Do you think Sherry might have killed him?” Part of me was cheering Greg’s calm demeanor, especially since his ex-wife might be a murderer. Another part knew it was probably awkward if not impossible for him to stay totally impartial.

“We don’t know if anyone killed him. Seriously, Jill, you need to stay out of this. I’m the investigator in the relationship. If I need help, I’ll work with Doug over in Bakerstown PD.” He shrugged as Carrie set the pie in front of him. “I can tell you this, all I know is she was there and now, I know her side of the story. She claims she got an anonymous text saying Kent was meeting another woman for drinks. When she got there, all she found was Darla and Matt getting ready for the rehearsal.”

“Now, was that so hard to say? Sometimes you take all the fun out of my day.” I broke off a bit of the flaky crust before he could move the plate out of my reach.

“Yeah, like when I try to keep you safe?” He cut a large bite and popped the treat into his mouth.

I leaned back, ignoring the cinnamon smell that was making my mouth water. Usually, one bite satisfied my craving. And I’d had freaking cheesecake for breakfast. Now, all it had done was whet my appetite. Kind of like Greg’s denials about Kent’s death status.

Greg cleared off the last bite of the pie and pointed his full fork at me. “I’m serious, Jill. You deal with your business, I’ll deal with mine.”

I watched the fork as he waved it in the air in front of me, thinking of grabbing the utensil and ignoring his clear directions.

A smile crossed Greg’s lips, right before he devoured the last bit of pie. “I know you can hear me.” He pushed the plate aside. “Look, sorry I broke our agreement about Sherry, but my visit was part of my job. That’s the last I’m going to say about it.”

“So should Sherry get a lawyer?” I smiled at my own joke. Before he could answer, his phone buzzed with a text.

He thumbed to the message, then put the phone in his pocket. When he stood, putting cash on the table for the meal, I wasn’t surprised. This was life dating a cop; plans got changed with a phone call. He kissed the top of my head. “I have a lot on my mind. I’ll call you later.”

I watched him stride out of the diner, wondering when I’d see him again. Dinner, if Kent had been called up naturally by Saint Peter’s list. Next month, if someone had moved him up the list intentionally. No matter what Greg said, when murder happened on his watch, my life was always involved, even when I tried to stay out of it.

After running with Emma to counteract at least a few of the lovely fat-filled calories I’d consumed that day, it was time to throw a load of laundry into the washer and make a list of the things I wanted to do on my first day off of the week. Usually, I read most of the day, ran with Emma, and did the few house chores needing done. Living alone with my dog as company, the house didn’t get extremely dirty. So I didn’t worry about extreme cleaning. The situation worked for both of us.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved my little house. Especially now that the downstairs had been painted and filled with keepsakes from my life instead of the prior owner’s, Miss Emily. The woman loved her crosswords. I was still finding piles of ripped pages from the local paper with half-completed puzzles upstairs as I tried to clean out the other two bedrooms. I glanced upstairs, weighing the thought of digging into cleaning one of the bedrooms versus reading the few final chapters in the contemporary romance. Love won out.

It always does.

As I curled up on the porch swing, I threw a blanket over my legs. After a few chapters, I promptly fell asleep.

In my dream I was chasing kittens, trying to keep them safe and out of harm’s way. They weren’t cooperating. I’d wrangle one back into the paper box and another would take off, running with scissors. Finally, exhausted, I’d lain by the box, and the kittens had come to sleep by me. I could still feel the purrs vibrating on my legs as I woke from the dream.

When I looked down at my legs, still covered by my wandering quilt, I found the source of the vibration. A black cat opened her yellow eyes, blinked twice, then laid her head on my leg and fell back to sleep.

“Who are you?” I reached down to stroke the cat’s soft fur. She purred her response, but I felt a collar and a tag. I adjusted on the swing, bringing her closer so I could read the tag. “Maggie?” I read further down to see the address.

Pulling her into my arms, I stood and walked around the house, Emma following at my heels. “Some watchdog you are,” I chided as I locked her into the front yard. “Allowing another animal to come and cuddle with me while I slept.”

Maggie meowed and Emma let out a short bark, like,
Where are you taking my new friend?

Crossing the empty road, I made my way to Esmeralda’s front door via her winding stone path. I had to admit, the woman knew how to set a stage. As the town’s resident fortune-teller, Esmeralda’s home was her office. At least when she wasn’t working her second job as a dispatcher for the police department. Small towns, everyone is related or works with someone you know. I liked my neighbor. She kept to herself. Her business didn’t attract a lot of traff ic on the street, and she had started working on the outside of the house. When I first inherited the house from Miss Emily, Esmeralda’s had been in worse shape than mine—a fact that the city council overlooked due to her relationship with our Honorable Mayor Baylor. I was getting tear-down notices; she was giving fortunes with positive outcomes in her private sessions at City Hall.

Not that I held a grudge.

I pushed the doorbell and a cascade of wind chime music tinkled behind the door. No response. I looked down at the kitten, not willing to trust that if I put it down in the yard, it wouldn’t cross the road again, this time with not as favorable results. I pushed the bell again, thinking that maybe Esmeralda was on the phones at her other job. I snuck a peek toward town. I didn’t think Greg would take kindly to me dropping the kitten off at the police station. I could take her inside the house and wait. I returned my gaze to the sleepy kitten in my arms. “What do you think, Maggie?”

She blinked twice at me. Then I heard the door creak open.

“Jill. So nice of you to stop by.” Esmeralda was dressed in full costume, a scarf tied over her long black hair, a white peasant blouse with a neckline that showed more cleavage than most of the beach babes who frequented the store on summer days. Layers of skirts rustled with her slightest movement.

Maggie meowed and shifted in my arms.

“I had a visitor this afternoon.” I held the cat toward her.

She shook her head, holding up her sparkling red nails. “Can you bring her inside? I finished my touch-ups for tonight’s reading. My hands are so important to the presentation, I’m always refreshing my mani.”

Then she disappeared into the hallway, clearly expecting me to follow. Hesitantly, I stepped into the cool, dark house. I’d never been inside the house before. The smell of lavender and jasmine filled my senses, taking me back to days when I visited my grandmother in South Dakota. Her bedroom had held the scent of fresh sheets that she dried outside on the line, making them crinkle and feel hard.

“Do you want me to sit her down?” I called to the empty hallway.

Her voice echoed from another room. “Close the door and bring her into the reading room. She has a bed in here so she can learn to draw in the spirits. I’m teaching her to be a familiar.”

I shut the door and looked down at Maggie. “So you’re going to have a career in the fortune-telling business,” I whispered to the now purring cat. I swear she smiled in response to my words. I walked through the hallway, with the large pictures of people who were obviously long gone based on the frames and the photo quality. I felt their eyes on us as we walked through the hall to the first door on the right that was open. I stepped into the room and knew I was in the right place. The walls were covered with velvet fabric, and a single table sat in the middle of the room, a real, swear to heaven, crystal ball placed in the middle of the table.

Esmeralda was moving a blanket over a small couch on the side of the room. “Put her down here. I can’t believe she got out again. I think I should have named her Houdini, not Maggie.”

The kitten gave a tiny meow in protest as I set her on the couch. “Emma must like her. I thought she would keep her out of the yard. Instead, I woke up to her sleeping beside me out on the porch.”

Esmeralda studied my face. “She’s drawn to you. I should have seen it before.”

I held up my hands, blocking the idea. “I do not need another pet. Emma and I do quite well together.”

“No, I don’t mean that.” She gestured to the table. “Why don’t we sit for a few minutes? I believe we need to talk.”

Inside my head, I groaned. I didn’t need a trip to crazyland today. Esmeralda was always bringing me messages from beyond, like she was my personal answering machine. I couldn’t believe I’d let myself be sucked into her reality again. “I really need to get back.” I grasped for a good excuse. “Laundry. You know how it stacks up.”

Her gaze drilled into me and I knew I’d chosen the wrong excuse. “Surely you can spare a few moments to talk to your closest neighbor.”