by J A Whiting
Smiling, Claire said, “Maybe someday you will when you expand the chocolate shop.”
“Somehow I don’t think so.” Nicole slipped on her sunglasses.
A sudden gust of hot wind blew in the girls’ faces and Claire’s hair swirled across her face. She turned her head and pushed the strands back and when she did, her gaze shifted upward.
In one of the third floor windows of the building that housed Rose in Bloom, Claire spied someone staring out the window in their direction. Moving her position on the bench so it seemed she’d adjusted to better see Nicole, Claire kept her face forward, but her eyes focused on the person in the window.
“Don’t look when I tell you this,” Claire said, “but there’s a woman in an upper floor window who seems to be watching us.”
Nicole started to turn, but caught herself. “Which building?”
“The one we just left.”
“Is it Rose Smith?” Nicole asked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“Can you still see her?” Nicole was dying to take a peek.
“Yes. She’s still there.”
“Checking us out?” Nicole asked. “Wondering who the people are who want to speak to her?”
“I bet.” Claire kept the woman in her peripheral vision.
“It’s kind of weird, isn’t it?” Nicole made a face. “Why hide from us? Why not come down and have a brief conversation? What’s the big deal?”
“I get the feeling that this woman is an important clue to what happened to Ashley.”
“Is she the killer?” Nicole’s shoulders shrunk down involuntarily as if she was trying to make herself less of a target.
“I don’t know. I’d love to meet her so I could shake her hand and try to pick up on what she’s giving off.” Claire took a look down the street. “There’s an outdoor café a half a block away. Want to go sit there? We can watch for a while to see if Rose leaves the building.”
“Yes, let’s go. Rose staring at us from up there in the window is creeping me out.” Nicole stood. “I’m starving. I can get something to eat at the café. And besides, I much prefer being the one who watches than being the one watched.”
Claire laughed and the two headed down the street to the café where Nicole ordered a sandwich and Claire got a bowl of soup.
After eating half of her meal, Nicole said, “Let’s think about Rose and the details we know about the case.”
Keeping her eyes on the front of the building, Claire lifted her spoon to her mouth and then set it down. “Ashley was killed in her car not far from her apartment. The police think it was a job done by a hit man because Ashley’s ring is missing, but extremely valuable things weren’t stolen.”
Nicole added to what they knew. “Rose and Ashley had the same last name and lived in the same building. Right after Ashley was killed, Rose sold off her stuff and left her penthouse. Her lease isn’t up, but it doesn’t seem to matter to her that she has to pay for a place she isn’t living in.”
“Why would she do that?” Claire’s eyes narrowed.
“She might have been scared out of her wits by Ashley’s murder, didn’t feel safe anymore, and wanted to get out of the neighborhood.”
Claire said, “Or she could have had the move planned long before Ashley was killed.”
Nicole looked skeptical at the suggestion. “How about this … Rose has an idea who might have murdered Ashley and is afraid the same person will kill her.”
“Clever,” Claire told her friend. “Then would the women have known each other?”
“Not necessarily.” Nicole ate a french fry. “Maybe they had a mutual friend or acquaintance so Rose knows something about Ashley.”
“Take the sandwich with you,” Claire said in a hurry as she tossed more money than was needed to pay the bill on the table. “I think our prey has just left the building. Time to see if we can follow someone without being detected.”
Nicole wrapped her sandwich in a paper napkin and stuffed it into her bag, then she stood and winked at Claire. “Two amateur sleuths are about to practice a new skill. Hopefully, with success.” She flipped her bag over her shoulder and she and Claire took off down the steamy, Boston sidewalk.
10
Claire and Nicole followed Rose Smith to a hair salon a few blocks away. It would be impossible to go inside and not be seen so they crossed the street and stood on a busy corner for over an hour and a half waiting for the woman to come out.
“What is she doing in there?” Nicole fussed. “How long does it take to get a haircut?”
As soon as the words were out of Nicole’s mouth, a woman wearing huge sunglasses stepped out of the salon and Claire straightened up when she noticed her. “It’s her, it’s Rose.”
“It’s not her. Rose has long, brown hair.” Nicole pushed off the brick building she’d been leaning against and stared across the street. “Wait. She went blond?”
A cab pulled to the curb and Rose opened the door and hurried inside. In a moment, the taxi sped off up the street.
With narrowed eyes, Nicole turned to Claire. “She went blond?”
“She cut her hair shorter, too.” Claire watched the cab retreating into the distance. “It’s chin-length now.”
“She just had some urge?” Nicole asked with a tone of suspicion. “She’s making a lot of changes recently, isn’t she?”
Claire ticked off those changes. “She sold her stuff, left her penthouse apartment, cut and colored her hair. It makes me think she’s trying to hide from something.”
“Or someone.” Nicole’s face was serious. “This woman is either a suspect in Ashley’s death or is terrified of something.”
The young women headed back along the busy sidewalk in the direction of the boutique.
“Is she terrified of getting killed?” Claire suggested.
“What’s the connection between Ashley and Rose? We need to talk to Rose and find out what’s going on.”
“I have an idea.” Claire turned her head to her friend. “Rose has gone off somewhere so why don’t we go back to the building that houses her boutique? The building she was staring at us from. My bet is Rose is staying up there on the third floor. Maybe she has an office suite above her shop. Maybe she’s staying there for the time being.”
“Smart. Let’s go snoop around.”
When they arrived at the building, Claire and Nicole saw a ground-level, polished green door they suspected must lead directly to the upper floors. It was locked so they waited until someone came out and held the door for them.
A carved wooden staircase stood in the center of a small, tasteful lobby that had black and white tile flooring and a large ornate, crystal chandelier overhead. An elevator was located on the left side of the space.
“Walk up or ride?” Nicole asked.
“Let’s walk.”
Once on the third floor, Claire tried to get her bearings to figure out which side faced the street. They wandered the halls for a few minutes passing an accountant’s office, a law office, and a dentist until they sorted it out.
“It’s all businesses on this floor, nothing seems to be residential.” Claire spoke softly. “The room Rose was in has to be along this side of the hall.”
A rectangular, brass plate on a solid door in the middle of the hall had – R. Smith – engraved on it. Claire smiled and knocked. They waited, but no one answered.
The next door had long glass panels on either side and the name of an attorney was etched into one of them. Claire entered with Nicole following behind and she approached the receptionist’s desk with a friendly smile.
“Good afternoon,” Claire said. “We wondered if you might be able to help us.” She gestured to the left. “Does the next door office belong to Rose Smith? From Rose in Bloom downstairs? We wanted to drop in to speak with her and she doesn’t seem to be in. We wanted to be sure we had the right place.”
The twenty-something receptionist’s light brown hair was cut short in a pixie
style and her eyes were a bright blue. The name plate on the desk said, Abby Wilcox. “Yes, you have the right office. That’s where Rose works. I haven’t seen her today.”
Claire nodded towards Nicole. “Nicole is a designer. We wanted to talk to Rose about carrying her line.”
“Oohh.” The girl looked excited. “I love fashion. I love to browse in Rose’s shop.”
“Are you friendly with Rose?” Claire asked.
“She’s nice. A few mornings a week, she drops off coffee for me, our paralegal, and the attorney. We chat sometimes when we run into each other.”
“She has a number of stores in the area, is that correct?” Claire asked.
“Four.” The girl seemed proud of how many boutiques Rose owned.
“Is Rose usually in the office every day?” Nicole questioned.
“Usually.” The young woman nodded. “Though this week she’s been coming and going. Rose must be super busy. She hasn’t brought us coffee this week. She usually keeps her door open when she’s in the office, but it’s been closed every day this week.”
“Does she have a partner?”
The young woman asked, “In business, do you mean, or like a boyfriend?”
Nicole said, “Both.”
“Well, she isn’t seeing anyone now. She’s been separated from her husband for quite a while. She had a business partner for several months, but now she’s on her own again. He hasn’t been around.”
“How long ago did she break off with the partner?” Claire asked.
“Hmm, maybe a month or so?” The girl gave a shrug. “I can’t say for sure.”
“Do you know the partner’s name?”
“It was Melvin.” She rolled her eyes. “Melvin Watts. He wasn’t the most pleasant person.”
“No?” Nicole asked.
“He worked in the office with Rose. Sometimes I could hear them arguing.”
“What did they argue about?” Claire questioned.
“It was hard to hear the words through the wall, but it was definitely angry voices. I didn’t like it when we had a client waiting here. I’d turn the music up to block out the fighting.” The receptionist took a look to the hall and lowered her voice. “Attorney Milliken went over there one day to ask them to keep it down. He looked angry when he came back. I asked if everything was okay and he just grunted.”
“Was the arguing something new or did it always go on?” Claire asked.
“It was new. It went on for about a month before Melvin disappeared.”
“If they weren’t getting along, then maybe it was for the best that they ended their partnership,” Claire said. “I guess we’ll head out. Thanks for your time.”
Heading into the hallway, they passed Rose’s office and walked by the elevator when the doors opened and a blond woman with chin-length hair, around thirty, stepped out. She spotted Nicole and Claire, turned quickly to get back inside the elevator, but the doors closed before she could manage to enter.
“Rose?” Claire took a step forward. “Rose Smith?”
The woman froze and then slowly swiveled towards Claire and Nicole. With an expressionless face, she stared at them through the dark lenses of her sunglasses.
“Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Who are you?” Rose’s voice was not friendly … it held a tone of annoyance and impatience.
“I’m Claire Rollins and this is Nicole Summers.” Claire hoped to be invited into the woman’s office. “Someone told us you’ve moved out of your brownstone apartment on Beacon Hill and we wondered if you’d be interested in subletting.”
“I’m not.” Rose removed a key from her jacket pocket and headed off towards her office.
As the newly-blond woman slid the key into the lock, Claire asked, “Did you know Ashley Smith?”
Rose stood like a statue for several seconds, and then she quickly turned the key and pushed the door open. “No,” she said as she slipped into her office.
Claire wanted to ask another question, but the door slammed and she heard the lock click. Looking back to make eye contact with Nicole, she said, “I guess that means she doesn’t want to talk to us.”
The corner of Nicole’s mouth went up. “What gives you that idea?”
“She’s important to this case.” Claire’s heart sank when Rose closed the door and locked herself in the office. Staring towards the room Rose had entered, Claire let out a long breath of air. “I’m going to try something.”
Nicole’s eyebrow raised as she watched Claire approach the office door.
Claire knocked gently. “Rose? I need to talk to you.” She swallowed. “I’m the one who found Ashley Smith’s body in the car and called the police.” Hesitating for a moment, she went on. “My name is Claire Rollins. Nicole and I are trying to help figure out who did this ... and why.” Claire leaned forward and put her ear close to the door, then she looked at Nicole and shook her head.
Nicole moved her hand in the air indicating for Claire to try again.
Claire thought about what she could say that would get Rose to open the door and speak with them. “We know you’re afraid of something. In the few days since Ashley was killed, you’ve left your penthouse and changed your hair color and style. You’re trying to hide. Are you worried someone is after you? Do you know who it might be? Maybe we can put our heads together and figure it out.”
Not a sound came from the office. Claire waited a little longer, but nothing happened. Her shoulders slumped. “Nicole owns a chocolate shop in the North End. It’s called Chocolate Dreams. We’re both there just about every day. If you ever want to talk, call or come see us at the shop.”
Defeated, the two young women left the building in silence and headed home.
11
As the sun set and darkness gathered, Claire and the Corgis snuggled together on the large sofa in the living room of Claire’s townhouse apartment. The doors to the small garden were open and every now and then, a balmy breeze floated into the house making the woman and the dogs sleepy and lazy, only Claire wasn’t able to doze because she couldn’t stop thinking about Ashley Smith’s murder.
She made mental notes about what she and Nicole should do next. Maybe they could find out who Ashley’s friends were and talk to them. Maybe Ashley had confided in a friend about some worry she might not have revealed to her boyfriend.
Claire thought about ways to contact some of the woman’s coworkers hoping that one of them knew something that had been troubling Ashley. Claire planned to call her financial advisor to ask if he could point her to some people who had known Ashley well.
Claire yawned. Her muscles were sore from running five miles in the morning and then biking fifteen miles with Ian in the afternoon. On the bike ride, she told him about visiting Ashley Smith’s boyfriend at his apartment tag sale and the attempt to find Rose Smith and then finally locating her at her third floor office. “We couldn’t get Rose to talk to us. It’s pretty obvious that she’s full of fear.”
Ian reported that everyone in Ashley’s building had been interviewed, including Rose, and law enforcement found no reason to suspect any of them, but when he heard Claire’s information about how Rose had apparently abandoned her townhouse and changed her appearance, his face took on a serious expression. “I’ll head over to Rose’s shop tomorrow and talk to her again.”
“Good luck with that,” Claire told him. “The woman is elusive and uncooperative.” She’d shared her impression that Rose was terrified and her hope that if Ian could get anything out of the woman, it might be very helpful to the case, and to Rose.
Lady snuggled closer to Claire so that her owner could scratch behind her ears. Claire smiled at the pretty Corgi and ran her hand over the soft, multi-colored fur, while her mind worked on the different aspects of the case. After fifteen minutes of thinking and having her thoughts go around and around in circles, Claire swung her legs off the sofa and stood. She felt antsy and had the urge to get out of the house. “Do you two dogs wa
nt to go for a walk?”
Bear and Lady leapt from the couch and danced around until Claire was ready to go.
Grabbing the leashes, her phone, and the house key, Claire and the Corgis left the townhouse and stepped into the warm, summer night to stroll around the neighborhoods under the light of the streetlamps. Walking with the dogs as they stopped and sniffed at the curb, the bottom of light posts, and along the sidewalks, Claire’s mind relaxed and her ideas twirled less frantically. The tension in her neck and shoulders lessened as they ambled along the brick walkways and cobblestone streets.
Since the murder, Claire had avoided the street corner where she’d discovered Ashley Smith slumped over in her car, but tonight, she felt drawn to walk past the spot. Turning onto the deserted lane, the dogs, suddenly on high alert, stopped and sniffed the air. The fur around Bear’s neck stood up and he tugged on the leash wanting to dash up the street. The Corgis’ behavior caused Claire’s heart rate to increase.
“What’s wrong, Bear?” she whispered. She looked up and down the quiet lane trying to locate the source of the dog’s agitation.
The dog glanced up at her and then tugged on the leash pulling to move further up the road. Claire could see a pile of flowers on the curb next to the spot where Ashley’s car had been parked, a spontaneous memorial for a young life that ended too soon.
The scuff of a shoe on the bricks caused Claire to hold her breath and halt.
A figure stepped out of the shadows. Claire gasped. The Corgis growled low in their throats.
The person facing them was the same height as Claire, slender, with a knitted hat pulled down around the face. Its hands were shoved into the pockets of a hoodie, the hood of the sweatshirt pulled up over the knitted cap.
A woman’s voice said to Claire, “I wasn’t expecting to run into you.”
Narrowing her eyes, Claire tried to figure out who the person was and then it hit her. “Rose?”
