by J. R. Ripley
I heard steps running toward me and struggled to right myself, but between the pain and the fact that one of my legs had gone through the spokes of the front tire, I wasn’t moving fast enough.
Cody could finish me off right here. Right in front of Iggy’s Aquarium and Reptile Emporium, I noted through my pain-induced tears.
‘Are you all right?’
I threw my hands over my head to ward off blows.
‘Ms Miller? Are you all right?’
I slowly lowered my arms and squinted up. My head was pressed against the brick. ‘D-Detective Highsmith?’
He held out his hand.
I rubbed the back of my head. It hurt like the dickens but at least I didn’t spot any blood on my hands. ‘What are you doing here? How did you get here?’
Detective Highsmith deftly extracted my leg from my wheel. ‘We’d left the square and were heading back to Veronica’s place,’ he nodded toward the Trans Am, ‘when we saw you lose control of your bike.’
I noticed Veronica sitting placidly inside powdering her nose. I guess she wasn’t in a hurry to rush out and make sure I was unharmed. I allowed Highsmith to help me to me feet. Thankfully, I could still stand. I wasn’t dead and nothing appeared to be broken.
He peered into my eyes. ‘Have you been drinking, Ms Miller?’
I swatted his hand away. ‘No, I have not been drinking!’
‘Is everything OK here?’ Cody popped up beside Highsmith, panting.
‘Yeah. Ms Miller took a spill, is all.’ Highsmith propped up my bike and gave it a shake. ‘The bike looks OK.’ He looked at me more closely.
Was he going to kiss me again?
A chill raced up my arms and tingled my lips.
‘You look OK, too,’ Highsmith said, his M&Ms running up and down my body. ‘You think you need a doctor?’
‘No,’ I said, finally coming to my senses and glaring at Cody. ‘What I need is a policeman.’ I pointed my finger at the young man. ‘I want you to arrest this punk for trying to murder me!’
‘Murder you?’ Cody’s eyes flew wide open and he ran his fingers through the sides of his scalp. ‘Are you crazy?’ He turned to Highsmith. ‘Is she crazy?’
‘I’ll show you who’s crazy.’ I grabbed Detective Highsmith’s arm. ‘I overheard Cody Ryan talking, no, plotting,’ I said, ‘to murder me tonight.’
Highsmith plucked my fingers from his arm. ‘Please, Ms Miller. It’s been a long day. I’d like to enjoy the rest of the night, if you don’t mind.’
‘I do mind, Detective. This punk specifically said he was going to take care of me,’ I thumped my chest, ‘Maggie Miller. Tonight.’
Cody stuffed his hands in his front pockets and squinted his eyes at me. ‘When exactly did I say this?’
‘This afternoon at the edge of the town square. I saw you,’ I answered smugly, ‘talking to some orangutan-looking man. Saying how he’d get his money and you’d take care,’ I said, throwing a pair of air quotes around my words, ‘of Miller tonight.’ I nodded sharply to put an exclamation point to my news. ‘Detective,’ I commanded, feeling quite good despite the fact that I’d recently gone flying up a cement curb and crashed into a brick wall with my Schwinn, ‘arrest this man!’
Cody scratched beside his ear. ‘Oh,’ he said finally. ‘Miller.’
‘That’s right. What are you waiting for?’ I said to Detective Highsmith.
‘Hank Miller.’ Cody smiled. ‘What made you think I was going to murder him?’
‘Not him,’ I said, testily. ‘Me. Wait, him?’ I glared suspiciously at Cody. Was he trying to rattle me? Confuse me? Because if he was, it was working.
Cody nodded. ‘Yeah, we’d hired his jazz band to play at our wedding reception but Sabrina changed her mind at the last minute.’ The kid shrugged Detective Highsmith’s way. ‘Said she wanted an oldies band. You know.’ He turned to me. What? Did he think I was ancient? ‘Sixties pop music. So I hired Morris and the Moonglows.’
My mouth went dry.
Highsmith cracked a smile. ‘Hey, yeah. Morris McNulty and his band. I’ve heard those guys. They’re good.’
Cody glanced at me, then at his vehicle, which rested sideways in the street. ‘Can I go now?’
Highsmith nodded.
‘Thanks.’ Cody stepped off the curb.
‘No, wait!’ I cried. ‘What about what just happened? He tried to kill me. Practically ran me over!’ I pulled Highsmith’s sleeve. ‘You saw him!’
Highsmith shook his head. ‘You were driving on the wrong side of the road, Ms Miller. I saw you, remember? In fact, you were jaybiking.’
Jaybiking? Was that even a thing? ‘And that’s the second time he’s tried to kill me.’
‘What?’ Cody’s eyes widened. ‘Come on, that’s crazy. Do I have to listen to this?’ His eyes pleaded with the detective. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘You were aiming that flashy yellow sports car right at me!’ I argued.
‘My foot got stuck on the gas pedal, Mark,’ Cody said looking rather sheepish, ‘between the pedal and the mat. Besides,’ he added, ‘you saw her, she was driving like a manic – jaybiking!’ He folded his arms across his chest. ‘She doesn’t even have a headlight on that thing. I’ll bet that’s illegal.’
I took a step back. Jaybiking wasn’t even a real thing and already I’d heard it twice and used against me in the space of minutes. My world was being rocked. I was certain that Cody had tried to run me down. ‘Please, I know you tried to kill me. What a good plan too, right in the middle of the street. Everybody would think it had been an accident.’ I pointed at Highsmith. ‘Even the police would be your witness. The perfect crime!’
‘Why?’ Cody demanded.
‘Because,’ I explained for the detective’s benefit, ‘you killed Lisa Willoughby—’
‘The cake lady?’
‘And you figured out that I was on to you.’ I nodded sharply. Huh. So there. ‘Go ahead, Detective,’ I pointed at Cody, ‘ask him where he was on the morning that Lisa was murdered.’
Highsmith looked amused. ‘I don’t have to.’
I slatted my eyes at him. ‘Why not?’
VV yelled from the car, demanding to know if Highsmith was going to be much longer. He looked back and held up a finger, signaling he’d be a minute longer. I didn’t take that as a good sign. At least, not for me. Highsmith turned my way. ‘Because I know where Cody was.’
‘You do?’ My voice trembled.
The detective nodded. ‘I do.’ He glanced at the young man. ‘Cody was with me, playing football.’
‘Football?’ I squeaked. I think it was me. Could’ve been a mouse.
The detective bobbed his chin. ‘Football. Every Tuesday morning we play touch football over at Honicker Park.’
My hands and my heart clenched up. ‘How do you know he was there the whole time?’ I gave Cody a dirty look. ‘He could have sneaked away. Murdered Lisa. Then come back again.’
Highsmith sighed. ‘Because he’s the quarterback on my team, Ms Miller.’
Cody shot me a smug look. I guess I couldn’t blame him. I could’ve slugged him but I couldn’t blame him. ‘But, still, don’t you think—’
Highsmith held up a palm and cut me off. ‘I think I’d notice if my quarterback was missing.’
I chewed on my lip. The man had a good point. He might not be the world’s greatest detective but I had to agree that there wasn’t much chance of him not noticing that his quarterback had gone missing.
‘Look,’ said Highsmith, ‘tomorrow is his wedding. Give the kid a break, Ms Miller.’
I reached for my bicycle. ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘But if he murders me in my sleep I’m coming back to haunt you.’ I climbed on the saddle. ‘And VV Vargas.’ Especially VV Vargas, I thought as I pedaled slowly away.
OK, I was back to square one. And square one contained Houston Willoughby and Irwin Acheson. One or both of them had to be the killer.
THIRTY-SIX
I woke up
with a raging headache. Solving crimes was a pain. Not solving crimes and being made to look a fool in the process was twice the pain. I’d promised the staff that I’d open the café so I dressed quickly and headed to work. By the time Kelly and Mom came in I was itching to leave. There was a man I needed to see.
It was too far a distance to cover comfortably on the Schwinn. Besides, my pink beauty had a fresh ding or two as a result of the previous night. One of the tires was flat now, too. I’d have to haul it over to Laura’s Lightly Used or the bike shop one of these days and get it fixed. But not today.
The festival wasn’t opening till noon and would be over by four so I had a lot on my plate. Thank goodness tomorrow was Labor Day. One more day of the Labor of Love and I’d be done for the year. Next year, assuming there was a next year for Maggie’s Beignet Café, I’d insist on a better tent location.
I caught a bus to Navajo Junction and hoped that luck was on my side. It was. I spotted the man I was looking for running a mop along the floors outside the first-floor restrooms. Didn’t he ever take a day off? His hair had not been in a ponytail the first time I’d laid eyes on him and it wasn’t now, but it was certainly long enough for one.
‘Excuse me,’ I began. ‘May I speak with you a moment, Mr Aronez?’
He nodded but said nothing. I noticed his hands tighten around the wooden mop handle.
‘I’m Maggie Miller. Do you remember me?’
‘Yes. Last week. You were here with the police.’ His eyes danced around.
I held out my hand. ‘Don’t worry,’ I assured him, ‘you aren’t in any trouble. I only wanted to speak with you.’
Well, he’d be in trouble if it turned out he was a killer. Heck, I could be in trouble if he turned out to be the killer. He was the janitor working in the Entronque building. If anybody had the opportunity, it was this guy. I suddenly wondered what I might be getting myself into.
‘What about?’
‘Lisa Willoughby.’
His face darkened. Why?
If the mop handle had been a neck he’d have squeezed the life out of it by now. ‘She was a bad woman,’ Mr Aronez said. ‘I am sorry she is dead. But she was a bad woman.’ He made the sign of the cross.
My nerves pulsed and I felt the air grow still. ‘Did you kill her?’ Maybe get into an argument, accidently push her down four flights of stairs?
‘No!’ The mop fell from his hand. ‘No, I did not kill this woman.’
‘Why don’t we sit down?’ I suggested. We walked in silence to the Magic Beans Coffee Shop and took an empty table near the fountain. ‘Tell me about Lisa. Why was she a bad person?’
He played with his black coffee for a moment then added three sugar packets and one artificial sweetener. ‘Because Ms Willoughby said bad things about Maria.’ He had a small mole on the side of his nose that bounced as he repeatedly flared his nostrils.
My brow went up. ‘Maria?’
He bobbed his head. ‘My Maria. Maria is my daughter. She cleaned here.’
‘I see.’
‘Ms Willoughby accused Maria of theft, of stealing things from the stores and shops.’ He spat. ‘Maria would never do such a thing.’
His hand thumped the table and coffee flew from the mug. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the table. ‘She got my daughter fired. But I believe it was Ms Willoughby herself who was stealing things.’ He looked at me slyly. ‘People, they do not notice me. I am only the janitor. But I notice them.’ He tapped the corner of his eye. ‘I am here every day but Monday. I see things.’
‘Like?’
‘Like Lisa Willoughby, how do you say? Stealing from shops?’
‘Shoplifting?’ My eyebrows flew up. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I am sure. Sometimes even money. I found her address online and I went to her condo. I wanted to see what I could find. Prove that Maria did not steal these things.’
‘And you thought that if you could find some of the items she stole and return them that Maria could get her job back?’
He nodded sadly. ‘But those men were there.’
I smiled. ‘They chased you yesterday. I saw you at the festival.’
‘I ran.’
There were no signs of bruising so I expected they hadn’t caught him. Thank goodness for that. Who knows what those two louts might have done.
He looked across the table at me. There was sadness in his eyes. ‘What will you do now? Will you tell the police I broke into Ms Willoughby’s home?’
‘No.’ I draped my hand over his. ‘I won’t tell.’ Besides, I’d done the same thing myself. We drank in silence for a moment. ‘Did you see anything at all the morning Ms Willoughby was killed? Anything unusual?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘Nothing, miss.’ He drained his sweet coffee and looked at me over the rim of his cup. ‘I did see Ms Willoughby arguing with one of those men that were chasing me in the square.’
I bristled. ‘About six foot?’ I held up my hand. ‘Big teeth and big eyes? Swept-back dark hair?’
Mr Aronez nodded.
‘That’s her brother, Houston,’ I explained.
‘Yes, the brother. I know that now.’
‘Did you hear what they were arguing about?’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘But I could tell by their gestures that they were both quite upset.’
‘I’ll bet.’ More confirmation that not only had Houston been in the area, he’d been in Table Rock. Had he committed murder too? ‘What about the other man?’ I flexed my arms. ‘The one with all the muscles. Did you see him too?’
‘No, only the brother.’
‘And only the day before the murder.’
‘Yes.’
‘Monday.’ I silently ran through scenarios until something Aronez had said earlier hit me. ‘Wait,’ I said, my fingers fiddling with my spoon while my eyes watched him intently, ‘I thought you said you were off on Mondays?’
The janitor rose slowly. ‘Normally, I am. But I was ill on Sunday and could not come in to work. I came in early on Monday to make up the time.’ He stuffed his dirty handkerchief into the pocket of his navy jumpsuit and shuffled away.
I swore under my breath. I didn’t know who or what to believe any more.
THIRTY-SEVEN
I rode the bus to the town square and got things up and running for the afternoon. When I spotted Reva across the way at the kettle-corn stand I asked Kelly to hold down the fort and hurried over ‘Hello, Reva. Have you got a minute?’
She plucked a couple of fingers’ worth of kettle corn from her bag and popped them in her mouth. ‘What for?’ She wore a loose pink frock and a matching kerchief knotted in her hair. I couldn’t see her eyes because of the dark sunglasses.
‘I wanted to ask you about Lisa Willoughby.’
Reva’s nose wrinkled up. ‘What’s with you anyway? I told you everything I know.’ She shoved a fistful of kettle corn into her mouth. ‘Which is nothing. How about letting the police handle things? That’s what they get paid to do.’ She pointed to my shirt. ‘You get paid to deep fry beignets, as I recall.’
My face heated up. ‘Don’t you care what happened to your colleague? Your friend?’
Reva formed a smile. ‘Lisa was no friend of mine.’
‘Mind telling me why?’
‘Because I left Reva for Lisa,’ interjected Ben, coming up behind Reva and wrapping an arm around her waist.
Reva smiled up at him.
‘You mean you two—’
Ben nodded. ‘We are now. We were before, too.’ Ben dropped his head. ‘Until I got stupid.’
‘That’s OK, sugar bear.’ Reva pecked his cheek. ‘I forgive you.’ She gave his cheek a pinch with kettle corn sticky fingers. ‘Only don’t let it happen again.’
Ben blushed. ‘No way. I’ve learned my lesson.’
I studied them both for a second, my mind racing. If they were a couple and Lisa had broken them up, wouldn’t that have given Reva a reason to want something bad
to happen to Lisa? Like death, perhaps?
I bit my cheek. The problem wasn’t trying to figure out who might want Lisa Willoughby dead, the problem was trying to whittle down the vast list of people who might have wanted her dead. That list now included Reva, Ben, the janitor and his daughter, and, of course, Houston and Irwin. The only one I could definitely cross off my list was Cody Ryan, which was no big loss since he’d had no motive in the first place.
‘When was the last time you each saw Lisa?’
Ben shrugged. ‘When I got to the bakery. She was there before me.’
‘Who else was there?’
‘Markie and a couple of the assistant bakers in back. They usually come in around five or six a.m. depending on the orders going out for the day. I got in at eight.’ Ben snatched a handful of kettle corn from Reva’s bag.
‘Figures,’ Reva said. Clearly there had been no love lost between her and the dead woman.
Ben nodded. ‘Yeah, Lisa was supposed to finish the cake yesterday but she only got around to painting on those birds that morning. Typical of her to put things off to the end.’
‘Same here, timewise,’ coughed Reva, choking on a kernel of kettle corn. Ben handed her an open bottle of water and she sipped. ‘Thanks.’ She wiped her lips. ‘I got in just after eight and got to work. Like Ben said, Lisa was there then putting the finishing touches on that bird cake that had to go out first thing. The one that,’ she hesitated, ‘well, you know …’
I knew. ‘What about Mr Aronez?’
‘Who?’ They asked in unison.
‘Mr Aronez,’ I repeated. ‘He’s the daytime maintenance man at the Entronque.’
Both shrugged. ‘Never heard of him,’ answered Reva.
‘Never noticed him,’ said Ben.
Apparently Mr Aronez was right – he went about his job relatively unseen by many of the building’s occupants. There was a good chance he could have noticed Lisa Willoughby filching goods and money from shop owners without her ever paying him any attention.
‘Mr Aronez claims his daughter, Maria, was a cleaner there. He says Lisa got her fired. Claimed she was stealing things from the offices and shops.’
