by J. R. Ripley
‘Why not simply pay her?’
‘Are you kidding? How would I explain that to my dad?’ Cody chuckled. ‘She met me out here in the garden thinking I’d hand over a pile of my dad’s money. But I couldn’t live with her blackmailing me for the rest of my life.’
‘Please,’ I said, ‘let me go. Turn yourself in. I’m sure everybody will understand.’
He snorted. ‘Yeah, right.’
True, I didn’t believe it either. ‘So now what? Are you going to kill me, too?’
‘Of course,’ Cody said glibly. He wiped his hand on his shirt. ‘But I’ll tell Mark you attacked me and ran away.’ He chuckled. ‘Thanks for biting me. Gives my story some meat.’
‘Glad to oblige,’ I said dryly.
‘It would have been simpler and less complicated if I’d been able to go with my original plan. But I’ll tell him you must have murdered Mrs Higgins and then disappeared after attacking me.’
‘Why am I supposed to have done that?’ Not that I much cared what his crazy reasoning was but anything to keep him talking and me breathing.
He smiled devilishly. ‘Because you’re crazy. You killed Lisa then Mrs Higgins.’
‘No one will ever believe that.’
‘No,’ he said, a twinkle in his eyes, ‘not even when they search your apartment and find Lisa’s purse – a purse that also contains her gun – under your sofa?’
My eyes widened. ‘How – how did you know that?’
‘I watched you break into her place and leave with it.’
I frowned with disgust. ‘Then you must have been spying on me when I hid it under the sofa. Pervert.’
‘Hey,’ he replied with a slight shrug, ‘if you don’t want people peeping in, close your curtains.’
‘Why would I kill Lisa?’
‘That will have to remain one of life’s great mysteries. I mean, with you being dead, the answer dies with you.’
‘You’ll never get away with it, Cody.’ I sounded like a bad movie. And my life was about to end like one.
‘I don’t know.’ Cody’s fingers felt like icicles on my shoulder. ‘It’s a big desert. I don’t think anyone is going to find you very soon. At least not before the coyotes do.’
I shivered. Would coyotes and javelinas soon be picking my bones?
‘And when they do find you, they’ll think you tried to escape and died of exposure.’ He leaned toward me. ‘There won’t be enough of you left for them to know that I’ve strangled you.’
The band had stopped playing. I took the opportunity to scream. ‘Help! He—’
Cody caught me unawares, backhanding me across the mouth. I tasted blood and dug my nails into his arm before he struck again. Cody clamped his hand over mine. I grunted and slammed my heel on the top of his foot. He cursed and his hand relaxed.
I twisted free and ran, not knowing where I was or where I was running to. I tore through bushes and splashed through a koi pond working my way toward the lights and the sounds of the wedding party. The lights were getting closer. So were the sounds of Cody’s steps.
‘Stop her!’ Cody shouted as he appeared suddenly to my left mere feet away.
‘Stop him!’ I yelled at Highsmith. ‘He killed Samantha Higgins!’
Cody bolted through the crowd. I veered right, dodging between tables of startled wedding guests.
The band held still. Aubrey covered her face in embarrassment.
Cody ran past the stage. Detective Highsmith jumped over a crowded table, landing on his feet in front of him. The detective had some moves.
Cody took a swing at the detective. Highsmith slammed his fist into his nose. Cody eyes crossed over and he looked startled as he landed on his butt in front of the table bearing the wedding cake. But a moment later he was on his feet once again, a sharp knife in his hand. Probably the one meant to cut the cake, but now he was intending to use it to take a slice out of Detective Highsmith.
I gripped the edge of the table with all my strength and lifted. I’m not normally one to waste a good dessert, let alone a seven-tier beauty like this one, but I was about to make an exception. The table teetered for a moment, then gravity took over. The tall cake toppled, smacking Cody in the head. Seven tiers of fondant-covered cake are heavier than you might think. He crumbled to the ground. The knife slid across the flagstones. Officer Ellen Collins scooped it up.
Highsmith bent and picked up the trash. That being Cody Ryan.
THIRTY-NINE
Johnny and Clive waved briskly from across the square. From the smiles on their faces I could tell they were relieved that Lisa Willoughby’s murder had been solved and they had been cleared of any involvement.
I waved back and caught a yawn in my hand. Now if I could just get through Labor Day, life could get back to normal. Instead of my typical khaki shorts and Maggie’s Beignet Café-logoed polo shirt, I’d selected a black skirt and frilly white blouse.
‘Woo-hoo, look at you,’ Aubrey cooed. ‘Fan-cy.’
The corner of my mouth turned down. ‘Hey, it’s a holiday,’ I said brusquely. ‘A girl can get dressed up if she wants to.’ I smoothed down my skirt. ‘In fact, it would be unpatriotic not to.’ Or so I claimed.
The fact that Brad and I had arranged to hook up later had absolutely nothing to do with my choice of outfits. Neither did the perfume I’d tossed behind my ears and along the hollow of my neck with its fragrant hints of vetiver and patchouli.
Clive hurried over sporting a coat and bowtie, of course. The coat was unbuttoned. Guess he was going casual. He latched his arms around me in a bear hug and squeezed.
‘Ouch!’ I chuckled. ‘Let go!’ It hadn’t hurt a bit – Clive’s more teddy bear than grizzly – but I thought it important to keep his confidence up.
‘Sorry.’ Clive allowed my feet to touch the ground.
‘That’s OK, Clive.’ I checked my shirt for wrinkles.
‘Thank you, thank you, thank you,’ Clive said, gripping my right hand in his. ‘I can’t tell you how relieved we are that Lisa’s killer has been caught. And you!’ he cried. ‘We heard you were almost killed yourself.’ He traced his finger along my arm. ‘We wouldn’t want to lose you, dear.’
I shrugged sheepishly. ‘Well, I don’t know about that.’
Clive shook his head. ‘Who knew Cody Ryan would turn out to be such a cold-blooded killer?’ He fluttered a hand in front of his chest. ‘Samantha Higgins, too! To think,’ Clive said as he shot a look over his shoulder, ‘we designed Sabrina and Samantha’s dresses!’
‘Is it true that Mrs Higgins was trying to blackmail Cody?’ Aubrey asked. ‘I always thought the Higgins had plenty of money. She had that gallery. Mr Higgins is a CPA.’
‘Bad investments? Gambling?’ I speculated. ‘We may never know exactly.’ So far, Mr Higgins had lawyered up and refused to talk. I told them how Andy’s source down at the police station had told me that the DNA report on some skin samples under Lisa Willoughby’s fingernails had finally come in from Phoenix. The sample pointed to Samantha Higgins. That explained the scratches on Mrs Higgins’ neck and why she’d been wearing a scarf every time I saw her.
Clive wagged his head. ‘Johnny heard from your brother-in-law Andy who heard from his friend from the Table Rock Police Department that the gallery had been losing oodles of money. She was in danger of losing it.’ And apparently would do anything, including murder and blackmail, to keep it. She was probably thrilled when Sabrina and Cody got engaged and furious when she discovered Cody and Lisa’s affair. There’d been an extremely volatile personality lurking beneath that cool exterior.
‘I never would have believed it,’ Aubrey said.
If I hadn’t lived through it I might not have believed it myself. I took some satisfaction in knowing that I hadn’t been completely wrong about Cody even if I had missed the mark on Samantha Higgins. The police had found a folder on the gallery owner’s computer that contained an elevator out-of-order sign file that they think she printed out and used to
get Lisa to go up the stairs. Despite Mrs Higgins telling Cody that it was an argument that got out of hand, the police speculated that she had been waiting there at the top of the steps for her chance to get rid of Lisa once and for all.
‘And to think,’ Aubrey went on, ‘that Cody actually thought he could try to blame you for Mrs Higgins’ murder.’
‘I don’t think that was his original plan. He only intended to dump her body in the well and let everyone think she had simply disappeared. But when I stumbled on him,’ I paused for a moment, unable to erase the fresh memory of last night, ‘he was desperate. He had to improvise.’
‘What a hideous fellow,’ Clive remarked.
I agreed.
‘Cody must be crazy,’ Aubrey remarked.
‘I hear that’s the way his family’s high-priced lawyers are planning to go. With a plea of insanity.’ I could only hope that justice prevailed.
‘What about Houston and Irwin?’ That was Aubrey again.
‘I hear they’ve both left town, probably gone back to Santa Fe.’ I hoped we’d seen the last of those two.
‘Johnny is very, very grateful to you, Maggie.’ Clive glanced toward The Hitching Post’s tent. ‘You and your brother-in-law. He’d come and thank you himself, but …’
I nodded. ‘I know.’ He was Johnny Wolfe. Not a man big on apologies. To know him was to love him, or at least tolerate him.
In small doses.
Small, distant doses. I caught Johnny looking our way and waved. He scowled.
Yep, that’s Johnny. ‘I think he wants you, Clive.’
Clive kissed us each on the cheek. ‘Come by our tent later,’ he said. ‘We’re giving away our door prize this afternoon.’
‘Door prize?’ I said.
‘What is it?’ Aubrey asked.
‘A free design consultation with Johnny, along with a free veil.’ Clive replied. ‘Didn’t you enter?’
I shook my head in the negative.
Aubrey bit her lip. What? Was she hearing the peal of distant wedding bells?
‘Go ahead,’ I said. ‘I can hold down the fort long enough for you to go fill out an entry form.’
I couldn’t help smiling as Aubrey and Clive exited the rear of the booth and headed toward The Hitching Post’s tent, deep in animated conversation.
Yep, today was going to be a good day, labor or not. The coast was clear and my stomach was in the throes of hunger. I grabbed a cranberry-orange muffin from an open cardboard box on Karma Koffee’s side and shoved it in my mouth.
‘Did you just steal a muffin?’ a steely voice demanded. Trish Gregory’s matching steely eyes glared at me.
My face must have been strawberry red. ‘Nomph,’ I managed to say, crumbs spilling out of my mouth and clinging to my wet lips like witnesses for the prosecution. I forced a swallow. ‘Just eating my sandwich.’ I grinned feebly. Both Gregorys were looking at me now. I pulled a five-dollar bill from my cashbox and placed it in Trish’s outstretched hand. ‘I was going to pay for it.’
Trish stared at me a moment longer, made humphing noises that sounded something like a whale who’d swallowed a walrus that had gone sour, then turned away, back to her long line of customers.
I loathed that woman.
I mean, I was going to pay for it. I didn’t mind paying for it. I just minded the Gregorys knowing that I was willing to pay for one of their muffins.
‘I saw that,’ said my mom, joining me inside the tent.
‘Hi, Mom. Thanks for coming.’
‘Glad to help. Look, here comes a customer.’
I spun around. It was Brad. He’d shown up with a stunning young brunette on his arm. She wore black leggings that showed off a pair of svelte legs and a white shirt that stretched tightly across her chest.
‘Hey, Maggie.’ Brad smiled. ‘This is Sophie. Sophie, this is my friend, Maggie, the woman I was telling you about. Congratulations,’ he said. ‘I hear you helped solve another murder.’
Friend? That’s all I was? His friend? I bit down on my lower lip. I mean, I didn’t know if Brad and I were more than that or even if I wanted us to be … but friend?
‘A pleasure,’ Sophie said, extending her hand. She wore a shiny diamond on her right hand. Her left arm was locked through Brad’s.
‘What can I get you two?’ I asked rather stonily.
‘Nothing for me,’ Brad replied. He hadn’t lost his smile. ‘Sophie?’
She shook those lustrous locks of hers in the negative. No doubt fearful of adding an ounce of fat to her fat-free figure.
‘I came to see if you were free to join us later?’ Brad explained. ‘Share a dance?’
Was this guy out of his mind?
The band was working its way through an eighties ballad.
‘You can tell us all about last night.’
So that was his angle. Brad the snake slash womanizer slash reporter wanted the inside scoop on Cody Ryan, Samantha Higgins and the whole Lisa Willoughby murder investigation. He’d probably take credit for solving the entire thing, too. ‘Well …’
‘Ah, Maggie Miller!’
I looked over Brad’s shoulder. ‘Doctor Vargas!’ I smiled so big my face hurt. Doctor Vargas worked at the local medical center and we’d met on a couple of occasions. ‘How are you?’ My pulse quickened. What was it about this doctor that made my heart race? Certainly not the fact that he was Veronica Vargas’ brother. I still couldn’t figure that out – they were like two different species.
‘Please, call me Daniel.’
I nodded. ‘Daniel it is.’ Brad and Sophie exchanged looks. ‘What can I get you, Daniel?’
‘How about the next dance?’
‘Love to,’ I said. I shot Brad and his girl toy a triumphant look. ‘Take over for me, Mom?’
‘Of course, dear,’ Mom replied. ‘Don’t worry about a thing. I can handle the booth.’
Daniel cradled me in his arms and danced me slowly across the lawn. It was a good thing he knew what he was doing because I sure didn’t. I’m a lousy dancer.
I bumped into Aubrey and Keith at the end of the dance. Daniel had to leave.
‘What did you say to Brad and his sister to get him so upset?’ Aubrey asked.
‘Sister?’
‘Yeah, Sophie,’ replied Aubrey. ‘He was truly, truly upset. I ran into Sophie at the refreshment stand and she told me that you and Brad had plans to meet up and that you dumped him for Doctor Vargas.’
‘Oh, brother,’ I moaned. Or should I say, oh, sister. ‘You mean Sophie is Brad’s sister?’
Aubrey nodded. ‘His younger sister. I went to school with her.’
I was going to owe Brad an apology. I hate apologies, especially when I’m on the giving end rather than the receiving.
‘Last call, Ms Miller!’ Caitie Conklin announced, lifting up the tent flap and hollering my name.
‘Last call for what?’
‘It’s Sunday afternoon – Labor of Love closes in an hour. It’s time for my annual Charity Cut Extreme Event,’ the salon owner explained, fashioning quotation marks with her fingers. ‘What do you say? Only ten bucks a cut. All the money and hair goes to charity.’
My brows formed a V. ‘The hair too?’ I pulled at my split ends. I still hadn’t gotten around to giving myself a trim.
‘Yes.’
I shrugged. The woman had practically butchered me the last time I’d let her cut my hair and left me with bangs that were only now a fading memory. ‘I suppose so,’ I said cautiously. It was hard to pass up a ten-dollar haircut. ‘But no bangs.’ I waved my finger at her.
‘No bangs?’ Conklin snapped her fingers. ‘No problem. So are you in or not?’
‘I’m in,’ I answered. The canvas fell to the ground. I swung around to Aubrey. ‘How about you?’
Aubrey thrust her arms out. ‘No way,’ she said quickly. ‘Not me.’ She shook her head. ‘I like my hair just the way it is.’
‘That makes two of us,’ Keith added with an enigmatic grin.
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‘Suit yourself. But the money does go to charity.’ Hey, a little guilt never hurt anyone. Just ask my mom. And the hair went to charity too? I edged around my folding table and squeezed past the support post and rope to enter the Salon de Belezza’s tent. Who wants buckets full of hair clippings? What on earth could they use them for?
‘Have a seat, Ms Miller.’ Caitie snapped a gown in the air. Bits of floating hair tickled my nostrils as she fastened the ties around my neck.
I twisted my head around and gave the stylist my sternest look. ‘Remember, no bangs.’
Caitie smiled. It was only later that I realized there had been a touch of evil in that smile. Sort of like Dracula before he bites down on that poor girl in the skimpy nightie lying in bed when he promises he only wants a drop and that it won’t hurt a bit. ‘Not a problem,’ she quickly replied. ‘You worry too much. Relax.’
I tilted my head back and felt the warm water wash over my scalp. It had been a long weekend. Skilled hands massaged gardenia-scented shampoo through my follicles. I sighed. This was heaven. I shut my eyes and enjoyed the sensation. Sleep threatened to overtake me.
A few moments later, Caitie was swabbing me with a damp towel. Her hand touched down on my forehead. ‘Now, relax, Ms Miller. Lean back and close your eyes.’
She didn’t have to ask me twice. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of her shears snipping quietly away. After this, I’d pack up the tent, maybe grab a bite to eat then go home and sleep for a week. Maybe soak in the tub …
I half-dozed and only came to my senses when Conklin unwound the paper towelette from my neck and untied my bib. I opened my eyes. The world was all blurry.
The stylist held out a hand mirror. ‘Well, what do you think?’
I leaned forward. My heart stopped. I pounded my chest with my palm to get it started again. It did no good. It was like my heart was frozen solid. I rolled my tongue over my lips. I ground my fists against my eyes, pulled the hand mirror from Caitie Conklin’s hand and looked at the image reflected back at me. ‘I’M A BILLIARD BALL!’ I swung madly around. ‘A RED ONE!’ I twisted the mirror left. I twisted the mirror right. I was an odd-shaped billiard ball from any and all angles. My hair, what was left of it, lay like a finely manicured lawn along my skull. I was hideous. ‘You – you scalped me!’
