“Yea or nay on Latte Conspiracies?”
“What’s this about?” I ran my hand over the bench’s slats.
“I’m not getting into it over the phone. Name the time and place.”
Considering I didn’t know the topic of this conversation, I wasn’t sure I wanted to have this discussion in public—or within Bobbi Sue’s earshot. “Seven-thirty? My house?”
“Perfect. Cal’s got some church meeting tonight, so he’ll have no idea. See you then.” She disconnected.
I stared at my phone for a good thirty seconds before I recovered enough to hobble back into class.
By the time Kimberlee had dismissed everyone, my legs that had once felt like gelatin now throbbed.
As Makayla and I approached, Kimberlee pointed a finger at us. “Stay away from me. Both of you.”
“What’d we do?” Makayla asked.
“If you didn’t kill Elias, then you know who did. You were talking to him Saturday night, and I couldn’t get a hold of him afterward.” She grabbed her phone from her bike’s console and took a step back. “We’re done here.”
“Please wait. We don’t know who murdered Elias.” I said. “We feel terrible about what happened and want to find his killer.”
Her bloodshot eyes flashed. “Why were you talking to him in his dressing room?”
“My roommate Quincy Ashbrook ran off early Saturday morning. Sometimes Georgia works with the sheriff’s department, so she’s helping me figure out why. Now we’re afraid Quincy’s disappearance could have something to do with Dr. Kurtz’s murder,” Makayla said.
“It probably does.” Kimberlee folded her arms. “That girl is bad news. He lost his job because of his fling with her.”
I glanced at Makayla, but she hung her head, refusing to meet my gaze. I hadn’t wanted to be right about Elias lying.
Kimberlee flipped her curly ponytail over her shoulder. “Go ahead. Ask your questions.”
“How long did you know Elias?” I asked.
“A year or so. He worked out here regularly, and we had a lot in common. I encouraged him to audition for The Sound of Music.” She took a deep breath. “We went on a couple of dates and really clicked.” Her chin trembled. “I thought we might have something special.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Her voice cracked.
“Other than Elias telling you he lost his job because of Quincy, did he talk about her?” I asked.
“He mentioned her a few times since they both sold Tune. I did overhear him on the phone with her once. They had a falling out over money. From what I could tell, it sounded like she owed him and refused to pay him back. It really hurt him.”
“Are you a fan of Tune?” Makayla asked.
“I used to be. Berceuse helps me sleep, but”—Kimberlee shifted and stared at her gray shoes that coordinated with her mint green workout attire—“I heard a rumor about the company this morning and don’t know if it’s true.”
“What’s that?” I tried not to sound too eager.
“Tune sells lots of legit products. But rumor has it they have a secret product line where buyers can purchase illegal performance enhancing drugs. You have to have a password.”
“Do you know what it is?” I asked.
“No. I just overheard some guys trying to figure it out.”
Did Quincy sell illegal products? Had Elias threatened to be a whistleblower? And what about Jonas? He sold Tune as well. I grabbed a Winston Family Farms business card from my purse, scribbled Detective Hawk’s number on the back, and handed the card to Kimberlee. “Tell Detective Hawk at the sheriff’s department about that as soon as possible. Her number’s on the back.”
“I will.” She glanced at the card and stowed it in her bag. “I’ve been wondering all day if the secret products have something to do with Elias’s murder.”
Or Quincy’s disappearance. “Did anything else strange happen before Elias died?” I asked. “Any weird conversations? Did he ever seem upset?”
She squinted up at the water stained ceiling tiles. “Yeah. There was one odd thing—last Wednesday. I didn’t think much about it at the time, but now . . .” She unearthed a thin sweatshirt from her workout bag on the floor. “I came in before our show and went to my dressing room like usual, and I saw him talking to two guys in his dressing room. He thanked them for thinking of him, but he couldn’t do that.” She slipped on the sweatshirt.
“Do what?” Makayla leaned forward.
Kimberlee shoved her hands in her pockets. “I wish I knew, but that’s all I heard. Obviously, I only caught the end of the conversation, but I remember thinking it was weird. It was like they were selling something, but we never have salespeople back in our dressing rooms. Besides, the doors were locked, so Elias would’ve had to let them in. Now I’m wondering if they were after the illegal Tune products.”
“Can you describe the guys?” I asked.
“Young. Early twenties. One had a reddish-colored beard—well, he was trying to grow a beard. The other kid had those 1980s glasses like creepers wear.”
“Hang on a second.” Makayla’s fingers flew over her phone. “Are they in this picture?” She turned her phone and pointed at a picture of Jonas with a group of guys.
“Yeah. That’s him.” Kimberlee leaned closer. “And the kid in the glasses standing next to him is his buddy.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Is that guy with Jonas the one you went on the pick-a-date with?” I asked Makayla on the way out of Fitness Universe. The afternoon sunshine had disappeared along with the warmth, so in spite of my aching legs, I didn’t dawdle.
“Yeah. Micah Bradford. He lives in the same house as Jonas and Aidan.”
I unlocked my truck. “What do you know about him?” We got in, and I started the engine and cranked up the heat.
“He’s a music education major from Nashville, and he and Jonas have a band called Brotherhood Road.” Makayla buckled her seatbelt.
I snapped mine in place. “We know Jonas sells Tune. Maybe he was trying to let Elias in on the secret product line.”
“But why would he have Micah with him? He doesn’t sell Tune.”
“Unless Micah uses the secret products. Does he work out a lot?”
“I’m not sure. He’s definitely not ripped like Jonas. Aidan posted a picture of the guys at a pool party. I’ll see if I can find him so we can talk to him.”
“It’s good to know your stalking paid off.”
“Like you never stalk men online.” Her stomach rumbled, and she pointed to it. “Feed me.”
I laughed. “What do you want?”
She scrunched up her face. “Chinese food.”
“Perfect.” I put my truck in gear. “I’m all about obliterating calorie deficits with orange chicken.”
Makayla and I were cleaning up dinner when my phone rang, and I glanced at the display. Mom. I had about fifteen minutes to deal with this interruption before Yvonne was scheduled to show. I looked at my stepsister. “My mom wants to video chat. You did tell them what happened, right?”
Makayla refused to meet my gaze. She tipped a plate toward Gus, so he could lick it before she loaded it in the dishwasher. “Uh-oh. It sort of slipped my mind.”
Right. And I had a million bucks sitting in a bank account that I’d forgotten about. Maybe I should give her the benefit of the doubt. With all the chaos, I hadn’t remembered to check if she’d told them. I walked into the living room and collapsed in Daddy’s old leather recliner next to the fireplace. “Hey, Mom. How are things going?”
Makayla hovered between the living room and kitchen out of sight of the camera.
“Wonderful. We wanted to check in. Is everything okay?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned the camera toward Dan, who waved.
As far as she knew, why wouldn’t things be okay? Either her mother’s intuition was at work, or she’d heard something. “Yeah. It’s great. Getting ready for planting.” That part
was completely true.
“Good. Listen, we’ve been where we didn’t have internet, but when we got to our hotel this evening, Dan had an email from Brenneman University. Quincy Ashbrook disappeared at the beginning of the chorale tour, so they cancelled it. Then we saw a news story that a former Brenneman professor had been killed. Anyway, Dan’s worried because he hasn’t heard from Makayla.”
“Well, I thought she was going to call and tell you, but she’s staying with me.” I stood and crossed the room.
Dan sat next to Mom. “Why?”
I turned the camera toward Makayla.
“Hey, Dad. Jill.” She explained what Quincy had done and that we were trying to find her.
“I see. Did you know the professor who was killed?” Mom asked.
“Yes. I took voice lessons from him.”
“Do you think his murder has anything to do with Quincy taking off?” Dan furrowed his brow.
Makayla chewed her lip. “We don’t know.”
“That’s not what I wanted to hear,” Dan said. “We should move up our flight—”
“Dad, Georgia and I are fine. We’re having fun. Besides, she has a security system.”
“I know. I had it installed. So how did Quincy sneak out?” He eyed me.
Nothing got past Dan, but he’d had a lot of practice ferreting out the truth, raising his ornery twin sons. “I turned it off because Quincy triggered it earlier in the evening when she opened a window. She told me she was hot, and I believed her. We had above-normal temperatures that day.”
“Well, don’t do that again,” Mom said.
“I won’t.” I tried not to sound annoyed. “How’s your trip going?”
“Wonderful. We’ll fill you in when we get home,” Dan said. “Now, I’d feel a lot better if you’d go stay at our house until we’re back. Our neighbors can look out for you.”
Makayla nudged my foot, which I took to mean no way.
I gave her a thumbs up. “We’re fine. If it makes you feel any better, Cal moved into Beverly’s house.”
Mom and Dan looked at each other, and seconds ticked by.
Dan glanced at his watch. “We need to meet our team, so we have to go. I’d still prefer you go to Richardville, but you’re adults. I trust you’ll make a wise decision.”
I was convinced he’d earned a masters in guilt-trip studies. “I appreciate that.”
Makayla stepped out of camera view so she could roll her eyes.
Even though Dan had left the final decision up to us, as we said goodbye and disconnected, I had a gut feeling this matter wasn’t settled.
“I’ll bet you’ve been racking your brain ever since I called.” Yvonne burst through my front door later that night and stared at me. “Cal’s told me how much you like to solve mysteries.” She slipped off her leopard-print trench coat and held it out.
“Yes.” I placed her coat on the bench. “Let’s have a seat in the living room.”
Makayla had gone upstairs with Gus, but I wondered if she was in the hall eavesdropping instead of hiding in her room. I wouldn’t blame her one bit.
“Hard at work on the Quincy Ashbrook case, I see.” Yvonne pointed at my dining room wall as she passed.
I needed to make a chalk wall for my office, where I could shut the door. “My stepsister is pretty upset since Quincy’s her roommate. Plus, I feel responsible since she escaped my house.” I led her into my living room and motioned to the two chairs arranged next to my piano.
“Can’t blame you there, but you’d better be careful. I told Cal and Vanessa, that girl’s up to no good. Wouldn’t surprise me one bit if she was the one who killed Elias Kurtz.”
“But they don’t think she did?”
“Nice try.” Yvonne crossed her thin legs that were made for the black skinny jeans she was wearing. “My son is tight-lipped, and he’s taking some time off. Wouldn’t surprise me if the girl did it, though, but that’s the detective in me speculating. I may’ve retired, but my curiosity didn’t. What do you think happened?”
I didn’t have a great theory yet, but I couldn’t admit that to Yvonne. Her laser-like eyes blinked with impatience.
Start talking, Georgia Rae. “Well, Quincy, her ex-boyfriend Jonas, and Elias Kurtz may’ve been selling illegal performance enhancing drugs under the cover of a legitimate nutritional supplement company. Elias may’ve been planning to blow the whistle, and it got him killed.” As I said the words, I realized that idea wasn’t half-bad.
“Don’t have much, do you?”
Scratch that. “No, ma’am. It’s not my job.”
“Fair enough. You sure your stepsister ain’t involved?”
“Yes. I’m sure.” I curled my fingers around the chair’s arm.
“How?” She flicked her pointy black pump off and then back onto her heel.
“I just am.” I cringed inwardly. Good grief. I sounded like Makayla. “Why’d you want to talk? I doubt it has anything to do with Quincy Ashbrook.”
“Right to the point. You and I are going to get along fine.” She pressed her elbows into the chair arms, and her gold bangle bracelets dinged as she steepled her fingers. “Mason Thrailkill. Tell me what you know.”
“He and Cal were both detectives when Cal worked in Ohio.”
“And?”
What’d she want me to say? Cal had mentioned Mason a few times, but I’d never met him. “Mason’s name was written on a sticky note on Vanessa’s computer monitor. Mason probably has something to do with why you visited Vanessa behi—without Cal knowing.” I met her gaze. “I haven’t had time to figure out what.”
“I’ll save you the trouble since you’re already busy poking around another case.” She rested her hands in her lap. “Mason Thrailkill’s wife Natalie was stabbed to death last month while she was riding her bike.”
I shuddered. “That’s awful.”
“It is. Mason and Natalie spent a lot of time with Cal. Went to the same church and all. She was as nice as they come.”
“Was she raped?” I could hardly bring myself to ask the question.
“No, thankfully she didn’t have to endure that horror. At first, the police thought she was in the wrong place at the wrong time—that some sicko killer was trolling for the next victim and Natalie was it. Then, a week later Mason got a note that said, ‘How does it feel? You killed the person I loved. And now I’ve taken the one you love.’”
My heart somersaulted. “Did Mason kill someone in the line of duty?”
“No, but they’ve zeroed in on two cases Mason worked where suspects died. One was stabbed in prison while awaiting trial for murder. The other had a heart attack while under investigation. In both instances, they later found evidence exonerating the suspects.”
My mind whirred. “Did Cal work on the same cases?”
“The one where the prime suspect had a heart attack.”
“He never told me any of this.” I wrapped my arms around my waist.
“I know.” She pressed her lips together. “Somehow, my son convinced himself that what happened to Mason’s wife might happen to you, and he didn’t want to put you in danger.”
“He told you that?”
“Nope.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Did my son pull away?”
“Yes.”
“Did he give you a good reason?”
“Not really.” Is this what an interrogation feels like?
“Did he claim he was going through something but didn’t give you specifics?”
“Yes.”
“Were you frustrated enough by his emotional distance to break up with him?”
“Yes.”
“Then what more do you need to know?”
That he loves me. I shook away the thought. Something else was bothering me—big time. “If that’s true, then why would Cal go on a date with Taryn? Wouldn’t he want to protect her from a nutcase?”
“She asked him out—I read their text messages.” She waved
a hand. “Persistent little gal,” she muttered.
Merciful heavens. I should tell Cal to change his passcode.
“He’s trying to get over you,” Yvonne said. “He’s not into Taryn. He went on a date with her to get her off his back and because now we’re not certain that Mason’s case has anything to do with Cal.”
“He told you?”
“Nope.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Are you suggesting I don’t know my own son?”
Why, oh why, had I jumped on this merry-go-round again? “No.”
“Are you doubting that I’m not seeing that old sparkle in his eyes ever since you two broke up?”
“No.”
“Then what more do you need to know?”
“Is Mason the reason he’s taking time off?”
“Sure is. That and the move.”
The move was a convenient excuse for everyone except his mother. I squeezed the bridge of my nose. “Yvonne, this information is helpful, but what do you want me to do?”
“They say men marry women like their mothers.”
I’d never experienced conversational whiplash quite like this before. I rubbed the back of my neck. Find an insurance code for that one, Doc.
“I’ve heard.” I nearly choked on the words.
“You and me?” She pointed at me and then herself. “We’re doers.” She leaned back and folded her arms. “It’s why I can’t keep my nose out of my son’s love life and why you can’t stay out of his investigations.”
That wasn’t completely accurate. “I can’t help that I’ve found—”
“Does Yvonne sound like she’s done?”
Georgia wishes she were. “No, ma’am.”
“You and me also like to fix things. Now I’m pretty good with a hammer and nails—used to drive Darrell nuts that I could repair things better than him. His ego couldn’t take it.” She sniffed. “Anyway, I was a tomboy growing up, always following my daddy around.”
My face began to simmer because that scenario sounded a little too familiar. Would I be like Yvonne in thirty years?
Deadly Harmony Page 12
