Dressed To Kill (9 page)

“Divorced. But I haven’t been able to reach her for questioning.” He looked thoughtfully at the door. “I guess this afternoon is as good of a time as any.”

“I’ll come in with you. After that, I could use a cold drink.” I held the door open for Greg, who stood watching me. “What, did you really think that I was going to go wait in the truck? Sherry might listen to you, but I’m my own woman.”

He chuckled. “Even when it gets you in trouble.” He didn’t even form it into a question, just motioned me into the cool building. “But you aren’t coming in the office. You don’t need to be part of the investigation.”

Shrugging, I pulled a book out of my purse. “I came prepared. I never know where our excursions will wind up. So I brought reading material.” I’d actually been excited to read this last long-awaited installment in a popular paranormal series. My pre-orders for the book had been unbelievable. I’d tried to get an advance reading copy, but my sales rep hadn’t been able to hold one for me.

Even with all that built-up excitement to start reading, it took a while for me to settle into one of the plush couches in the Bakerstown Funeral Home’s front parlor. Especially since the opulent waiting area was right outside Doc Ames’s office. And surprisingly, the walls were pretty thin. I could hear Greg’s voice as he asked the woman questions, but most of the words were garbled. I did find out her first name was Cheryl. The name rang a distant bell. Had she visited the shop? I made an effort to call customers by their first name if I saw a driver’s license or a credit card, just to add that personal touch. But I didn’t remember seeing the woman before. So that couldn’t be it.

Finally I gave up trying to decipher the noise into any human language. I opened the cover of the book, put my feet up, and within pages, was returned to the world the author had built for me in the last installment. It felt like coming home. Or revisiting a favorite travel destination.

I didn’t notice the woman standing in front of me until she spoke.

“That woman’s trouble. She thinks she can wrap a man around her finger and use him for anything she wants. For a while, she wanted Kent, and now it looks like she’s out to get your man back in her claws. Don’t let her kill him, too.” Tears flowed down Cheryl Paine’s cheeks as she stared at me.

“You think Sherry killed Kent?” Cheryl’s words had surprised me, not because I liked Sherry, but because I didn’t think she’d stoop that low just to control the male of the species. Besides, what would be in it for her?

“I know she did. The woman thought she’d be named in Kent’s will, but he never removed me. I’m still the beneficiary, and there’s nothing she can do about it.”

With that declaration, Cheryl Paine marched out of the building, letting the door slam behind her.

“Sounds like motive to me.” Greg watched the door thoughtfully.

I tucked my book back in my bag, reluctant to leave the author’s world. I stepped toward Greg, “Yeah, but for which one? Cheryl or Sherry?”

He put his hand on my back and led me through the door and out into the sunshine. Time to return to South Cove. “Both.”

G
reg leaned on my porch railing, watching me unlock the front door. “I can get into the house all by myself.” I dug in another section of my purse for my key ring. “I’ve been doing it for years now.”

“How many times have I come over to unlock your door after a run this spring?” His voice was warm, comforting, and hearing him, I could just see the self-satisfied smirk flowing over his features. We rarely fought, not true smack down, hurt your feelings fights. But when we did, it was usually because one or more of us thought ours was the only way. Or we insisted on some sort of crazy superiority over something, like who was the better keeper of the keys. A contest Greg would always win. The man was a security fanatic.

I felt the teddy bear fob that was part of the key chain and pulled the mass of metal out of the bottom of my purse. I held it up for him to see. “I told you I would be fine.”

“Maybe I like to spend time with you?” His lips curved into a crooked smile, drawing me toward him. Then his phone rang and killed the moment.

Greg glanced at the display before answering the call. “Yes, Tim?”

I watched him as cop mode took over and he listened carefully to the deputy’s voice. I turned the key in the lock and left the door open so he could come in after he’d finished the call. Emma sniffed at my feet in greeting, then ran to the back door, ready to run the yard. As I passed through the living room, I glanced over at my sofa and saw the couch cushions were still intact. I poured a glass of iced tea and sat down at the table, my to-do notebook in hand. Time to plan the rest of my weekend. Jackie had my shift at the coffee shop tomorrow, so I had two whole days with nothing to do. I made a quick grocery list and was just finishing up when Greg appeared in the kitchen doorway. “You want steaks tomorrow evening, or should we order Chinese?”

He shook his head. “Let’s not plan anything definite. I’m not sure where this investigation with Kent’s going.” He held up the phone. “I’ve got to go meet with the bank auditors. They’re camped out in my office and won’t leave, according to Tim. I guess now is as good of time as any.”

“Do you know what they want to discuss?” I tapped my pen on the notebook. “Maybe someone from the bank killed Kent and they know why?”

Greg laughed. “Seriously, who do you think at the bank could be a murderer? John, the janitor? I guess he’s a possibility, he carries Mace, but he’s over seventy.”

“You don’t have to be so sarcastic. There’s a chance it was someone at the bank, okay, maybe not John, but one of the clerks. Kent was a horndog, maybe he scorned the wrong woman.” I chewed on my bottom lip. This was a most excellent train of thought. “Maybe the redhead killed him.”

His phone beeped with an incoming text, and as he read the message, I could see his attention shift. “Crap, I’ve got to get downtown.” He walked over and kissed me on the top of the head. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Tomorrow?” I squeezed his hand and then let it fall to his side. “If you’re coming for dinner, I’ll walk into town and get Sadie’s Chocolate Temptation Pie for dessert.”

“You are pure evil.” He waved, turning toward the driveway. I heard the truck start up and Emma whined at the door.

“I miss him, too, girl.” I let my dog in, and she settled near my feet while I finished my list of projects. That done, I made plans for a light dinner and refilled my glass of iced tea. Then I took the paperback out of my purse and Emma and I went out to the back porch to relax.

Later, I started working down my list of chores, feeling just a bit sorry for myself. It wasn’t like we always spent Saturdays together, but sometimes, I just wanted a little more. I’d just put a load in the washer when a knock sounded at the door. Maybe his meeting with the bank examiners had been shorter than expected. Of course, he’d only been gone an hour. The only way that was Greg at the door was if the meeting had been postponed and the auditors were already out of town. My luck didn’t run that good.

I pulled the door open without looking out the window to see who it was, a habit that drove Greg crazy. I kept explaining we lived in a small town. He kept saying I lived on the edge next to the heavily traveled Highway One. Anyone could be at the door. He had a point. One that I just ignored.

Emma whined at the visitor, Aunt Jackie. She and my dog had a love/hate relationship. Emma loved my aunt, my aunt claimed to hate my dog. Yet at times, I’d see her stroking Emma’s head.

Aunt Jackie was dressed in a coral pantsuit, pearls at the neck and sensible but cute walking shoes. She thrust a box from the shop into my hands. “White chocolate macadamia nut cookies. Sadie’s been experimenting.”

I opened the box, the smell of fresh baked cookies filling my senses. “Yum, did we buy some for the shop?”

“I told her to leave me a sample and I’d let her know next week.” Jackie smiled. “We have three dozen, which should sell nicely tomorrow.”

“Seriously, you have got to stop playing hardball with Sadie. She’s our primary dessert supplier. I’d hate to have to go into Bakerstown more often.” I followed my aunt into my kitchen, where she’d already started a pot of coffee. “Besides, she’s a friend.”

“Can’t let friendship affect business. Sadie knows what she’s doing. She’d be a fool to stop trying new things.” Jackie sat at the table, Emma lying quickly at her feet, her nose inches away from my aunt’s shoes.

I decided I’d talk to Sadie next week and make sure she charged us for the “sample” when she did her weekly order. Changing the subject, I joined my aunt at the table, opening the box of cookies and offering her one. “So, what’s up?”

She waved away the box and watched as I took a cookie and set the box down in the middle of the table, within reaching distance. I thought I saw regret in her eyes as she eyed the box. “Just checking in. Rumor mill says that Kent was still married and that’s why Sherry killed him. Is that what Greg thinks?”

I brushed the cookie crumbs off my lips before I spoke. South Cove’s small-town rumor mill was where I got my best intel. Especially since my aunt was plugged in to the main source. I wondered not for the first time where she found out her gossip. Maybe Mary? More likely Josh; that man would do anything for my aunt, including asking the inappropriate questions.

“You know, there are two subjects that are taboo between Greg and me. One of them is open investigations. And the other is Sherry.” I polished off the cookie and thought about a second one, but got up to pour a couple of cups of coffee from the just-brewed pot instead. “I did meet the former Mrs. Paine this afternoon at the funeral home. She and Sherry were ready to kill each other, and would have if they’d had real weapons. I’m just glad neither one of them had guns.”

Aunt Jackie took the coffee and leaned forward. Her eyes sparkled. “What were they fighting about?”

I shuddered a bit. “Kent’s funeral arrangements.” I took a sip of the dark brew. “Can you imagine anyone wanting that chore?”

She stared at me hard. “It’s an honor, not a chore. You wouldn’t have let some stranger handle Miss Emily’s requests, would you?”

My friend had died less than a year ago, but for the first few days after her death, I’d hoped for someone, anyone, to take over the planning. I hadn’t wanted to make a mistake. Luckily, Sadie Michaels had stepped in, and with Doc Ames’s help, my friend had been sent off to her final resting place without a hitch. As long as you didn’t talk about the unfortunate will-reading incident. Or the fact that her relatives tried to kill me. Shaking those memories away, I put on a customer service smile. “I guess you’re right. But who does get the honor? Current girlfriend or ex-wife? Seems like a dilemma.”

“Wife trumps girlfriend any time.” Aunt Jackie shook her head. “I would have thought you’d know that by now. Weren’t you a divorce lawyer?”

“Family law,” I corrected. “I was talking social etiquette, not legal regulations.”

“Same thing.” Aunt Jackie looked at me, pausing at my hair, tied back into a loose bun with a clip. She sighed, but instead of the lecture I’d expected over the mess, she asked, “Can you take my shift tomorrow? I know I told you I’d work, but I’ve got a few things I have to do in the city. Mary and I are leaving tonight after I close the shop.”

“Sure, Greg’s tied up with the Kent thing so I don’t have real plans except laundry. I forgot to mention that Mary was looking for you the other day. What’s going on?” I eyed another cookie, wondering if I could wait for my aunt to leave and therefore skip the lecture about eating too much sugar. Except she’d brought the box, so she must expect me to eat a few. My hand reached toward the cookie box, but my aunt snapped the lid shut and stood.

“We’re just doing a girl trip, why would you ask?” My aunt dug in her purse, avoiding eye contact.

I studied her, wondering what she wasn’t telling me. Before I could push the issue, a knock sounded at the door. “Hold on. I’ve got some questions.”

I followed Emma to the front of the house and pulled open the door. This time, I should have looked first. Someday I’d learn and avoid awkward conversations like the one that was just about to occur.

Pat Williams stood at my door. Her brunette hair was twisted into a French braid, and her casual uniform of designer silk dress, gold chains, and what I liked to call hooker shoes topped off the ensemble. Between Pat’s outfit and my aunt’s, I looked like one of the homeless on the city streets dressed in jeans. Pat’s lips curved into a smile that would have had a football team of males running to help her pick up a dropped napkin. The action had no power over me, however; I knew when someone wanted something. And this favor was going to be a doozy.

“Jill, I can’t believe I’ve never visited your lovely house.” Pat glanced around the porch. “So quant and homey. This place was quite a wreck when that nasty old lady owned it. What was her name again?”

I leaned against the doorway, and Emma softly growled at my feet. “Her name was Emily and she was my friend.” I let my words sink in, and as I saw her smile dim, I went in for the kill. “Get to the point, Pat. What do you want? You didn’t come to visit.”

Pat sighed, then reached into her Coach bag and pulled out a tissue. She dabbed at her dry eyes. “I’ve come to ask for your help. You are the only one who can save her. Greg’s trying to send Sherry to prison.”

I shook my head. “Greg’s not vindictive. Besides, they’ve been divorced for years. The only way Sherry will be arrested and sent to prison is if she killed someone.” Dawning realization filled my mind. “You think she killed Kent, don’t you?”

Pat shook her head, but her smile disappeared. “No. There’s no way.” But something in her eyes made me wonder if even Sherry’s best friend had doubts.

“Look, I still don’t know why you’re here. You know Greg. If the investigation proves it’s Sherry, then that’s what will happen. He doesn’t make things up. He finds the truth.” I put my hand on the door.

“Ha. You don’t know how ugly it got between those two. I thought for a while he was going to kill Sherry, he was that mad when she left.” Pat seemed to consider something, then kept talking. “I want you to prove Sherry didn’t kill Kent.”

“Are you freaking nuts?” I’d died and gone to crazytown. “Why should I?”

Pat stared at me hard. “Because if you do, I’ll make Sherry back off Greg. She’s been pushing hard for a reconciliation. I can make that stop.”

By the time Pat left, I’d found out all about the dozen or so women whom Kent had been dating in the last few years in addition to Sherry and now, his ex-wife, Cheryl. When I returned to the kitchen, Aunt Jackie pushed a pad toward me.

“I wrote down every name she said.” She tapped her pen on the list. “Looks like you have a few people to check out on Monday.”

I took a bottle of light beer out of the fridge and slipped into a chair, staring at the list. “You think I should? I mean, there’s no way Greg would even consider going back with her.”

Aunt Jackie tucked her purse under her arm and kissed me on the cheek. “I know you. It doesn’t matter why you get involved in an investigation; you just like to solve problems. Don’t let Sherry mess with your head. Besides, if she gives Greg a break for something you would have done anyway, you both win.”

I followed my aunt to the door, where we found Maggie sitting on the porch rail, sunning herself. I closed the door, blocking Emma in the house, and went over and picked up the warm cat. She started purring as soon as I touched her.

“I didn’t know you adopted a cat.” Jackie reached out and scratched Maggie between her ears. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Not my cat. She belongs to Esmeralda, but she keeps escaping.” I glanced over at my neighbor’s house. “I worry she’s going to get run over one of these times. You know people fly through here too fast.”

“That’s why Toby sets up just down from your house to pick up speeders. You know that boy has made so much money for the city with his stops the mayor is thinking about hiring him on full-time.” Aunt Jackie kissed me on the cheek. “I hope that doesn’t happen soon. He’s good for our business, too.”

I watched her get into her car and drive toward town; the entire trip would take less than two minutes, even if she had to stop at the entrance to my driveway to wait for a tourist driving into town. Of course, it was Aunt Jackie. She never walked anywhere except in the city. But out in the sticks—her words, not mine—she lived up to her California heritage and took the car everywhere.

As my aunt turned the car out of the driveway and onto the road, I crossed over with Maggie in my arms toward Esmeralda’s. She really needed to keep a better eye on her cat.

Maggie meowed, like she was agreeing with me. I rang the doorbell and listened to the round of church bells echoing through the house. Esmeralda must have finished playing fortune-teller since there wasn’t a car in the driveway. I hoped I wasn’t interrupting a reading or a visit to the other world for someone. I didn’t believe in my neighbor’s ability, but I respected the allure her so-called profession or talent had for bringing tourists to our small town. Including my shop.