Jasmine and Jealousy

by London Lovett

  "What are you? Sixteen? I take that back. I'll bet sixteen-year-old Lola wasn't nearly as ridiculous as adult Lola. Ryder's trying to get back into the swing of things, but you've thrown everything out of whack. Just stop. I know you're dying to see him. This whole thing is getting pretty darn boring and now I'm going to go next door to eat something chocolaty because you've made me mad. So there. Goodbye."

  I hung up. It was one of those messages I'd probably replay in my mind and fret about and distort a dozen times in the next hour, but some of it just had to be said. I'd meant the part about going to Elsie's. The shop was empty and Ryder hadn't returned. With any luck (not that I was feeling too much of that) I could slip next door for a goodie and return before the next customer. Afternoons were generally slower than the mornings.

  Kingston was busy working on a few peanuts as I left the shop. A man walked out of the bakery wearing a big smile and carrying one of her signature pink boxes. A trip to the bakery was always good for a dose of joy.

  Elsie was wiping down her spotless counter when I walked inside. She glanced up, then returned to her task. "You look like you need chocolate."

  I sighed. "Is it that obvious?" I stared into the brownie and cookie cases and settled on a chocolate chip cookie.

  "All that decision time and you're going with the old standby." Elsie reached into the case and searched for the one with the most chips. She pulled out the cookie and handed it to me. "Kate was in here earlier," she said. "Apparently, she and Dash are an item again. Wonder how long it will last this time?"

  I swallowed the first bite. "For all of our sakes, I hope it sticks this time. Just hope Dash is making the right decision."

  "He's a grown man." She returned to her cleaning.

  "I know that little grin. You're just glad he didn't end up with your niece again." I took another bite.

  "I won't deny it." Elsie tossed the rag over her shoulder. "Guess you heard about the murder—of course you've heard about it." She laughed to herself. "But did you hear the news? Franki is being questioned about the whole thing."

  A crumb caught in my throat. Elsie dashed to the kitchen and returned with a cup of water. I drank until my eyes stopped watering.

  "I suppose that means you hadn't heard," Elsie said.

  "Kate mentioned something about some wild rumors, and admittedly, I did see the new detective come into the diner last night while Ryder and I were eating dinner. But it's ridiculous. Obviously, Detective Fairchild is on the entirely wrong path."

  "So that's her name, huh? Have you met her? What's she like? What does James have to say about his new partner?"

  "They're not partners," I said abruptly. "She's just another detective that works in the same area. They work separately. In fact, she's working on this one all by herself . . . unfortunately."

  Elsie walked to her coffee cart and poured herself a cup. "Coffee?"

  "No." I held up the half of a cookie. "This is my afternoon energy break."

  "I take it this new detective doesn't want a private citizen to involve herself in the case." Elsie leaned against the counter and sipped her coffee.

  "She's one of those by the book people who wants nothing to do with my expertise." I tapped my nose, but the truth was, it wasn't only my nose that had helped me solve cases. I just seemed to have a knack for it.

  "That never stopped you before," Elsie said. "Seems to me James wasn't exactly keen on the idea of you snooping around in his investigations but you still snooped."

  "I prefer probing to snooping, if you don't mind. And you're right. Why should one stodgy, haughty detective get in my way? She wasn't even going to classify it as a murder until I mentioned a few obvious pieces of evidence."

  "Like I said, being told to stay off an investigation never stopped you before." Elsie was giving me her brows of encouragement look. They danced up and down a few times.

  "You're right. I think I'll find out what's going on. I'm especially bound to it if Fairchild is clumsily and without reason going after Franki." I finished the cookie and sipped the rest of the water.

  "From what I heard, Franki made a scene in the town square. She wasn't happy about the competition."

  I was about to blurt out the same analogy I'd given Kate about a trailer showing up with mod clothes, but it would be just as effective with Elsie. I also knew there had always been a little competition and jealousy between Franki and Elsie. They were both solidly successful business women and both excellent cooks and bakers. Franki's cherry pie was just about as delicious as Elsie's. (Naturally, I'd never say it out loud.) As distraught as I was about the stress poor Franki must be going through, it didn't seem as if Elsie was exactly filled with empathy. Neither was Kate, for that matter, and it was rather disappointing. It seemed to me we women business owners needed to have each other's backs. Unfortunately, I was too weary to argue the point with Elsie. Plus, after my rant-filled message to Lola, I was feeling a bit hypocritical.

  "Thanks for the cookie, Elsie. I've got to head back to the shop. I need to call Lola."

  "Is she still pouting about Ryder not telling her he was back? Not sure who to side with on that," she said as I walked out.

  "Me either," I muttered to myself. I headed into the flower shop and straight to my phone. Lola was still ignoring my call, which wasn't surprising after my last message. I waited for the beep. "Hey, it's me. Sorry about that earlier call. I obviously needed a chocolate fix more than I realized. One cookie and I'm back to my sweet, little self. Seriously though, Lola, the guy is really hurting. I think you should at least talk to him. That's all the advice I'm good for today. It's been a long week, and it's only half over. Call me."

  I hung up just as Ryder returned. He looked disheveled and not terribly happy. He held up the bouquet he was supposed to deliver. "I stepped out of the car and a breeze carried off the little card. I chased after it for several blocks. Kids on bicycles had a big laugh over the man running down the street with flowers in his hand. Never found the card. I should probably just go home and climb in bed," he said sadly.

  I walked over and gave him a big hug.

  Chapter 22

  Ryder got past his flower delivery trauma, and even though I assured him he could take the rest of the day off, he opted to stay. I'd checked my phone multiple times but had yet to hear from Lola. She could be so stubborn.

  I took a late lunch and knew exactly where my break would take me. The taco truck was still taped off at the town square, which meant the rest of the crew was still in town, or to be more specific, at the Mayfield campground.

  I nibbled down the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I'd made for lunch as I drove over to Mayfield. The campground was on the outer edge of town bordered by wilderness on one side and ocean on the other. With summer nearly over, the kiosk for entering the camping ground was no longer occupied by a ranger. I drove right in and after cruising along the gravel road spotted Cody sitting at a picnic bench. He had his long legs stretched across to the bench on the opposite side of the table. His shoes were propped up on the bench.

  "Hmm, I wonder if those shoes smell like cumin?" I muttered aloud. The cumin footprint was about all I had. It was one of those fragrances that I could smell from a good distance. On the other hand, it could easily have worn off of the shoe if the wearer had gone through wet grass or a puddle or if they had walked many steps since the night of the murder. We'd had no rain for at least three weeks, which made puddles impossible, but sprinklers and wet grass went hand in hand with a rainless month.

  Still, since the cumin was one of the only pieces of evidence I had to go on, it didn't hurt to give Cody's shoes a whiff. Fortunately, he was not gentlemanly enough to remove his feet when I motioned to the bench asking if I could sit.

  "You seem to be everywhere," he noted as he picked up his can of soda. "We're just waiting for permission to open the truck for business. We've got ice chests full of chicken, pork and cheese. If we don't sell tacos, the stuff goes to waste." Cody was never
shy and always willing to chat. He was the best kind of witness, but my nose was telling me there was no cumin on his shoes. That didn't clear him, but it was good to know.

  Across the way, two teardrop style trailers and an older model motor home, each with the Taco Brothers logo painted across its sides, were parked near some electric and water hook ups.

  "Such a shame about Rico. Where are the others? Vince and Rico's wife—" I paused. "Angel, right?"

  "Yeah." He waved half-heartedly over his shoulder back toward the trailers. "They're both taking it easy. This has been stressful. We can't keep afloat if we're not open for business."

  His comment surprised me. "And then there's the stress of having lost someone you love."

  He looked up from his soda. A hank of hair hung over his eye, but he didn't bother to move it. "Right. I mean, of course, that too. Vince isn't himself at all. He's quiet and he's mostly been sitting in his trailer. Guess that makes sense. But he says opening the truck for business will help get his mind off things. He's got to figure out what to do with Rico. His family is mostly on the east coast, and he doesn't have any money to transport the body so he'll probably just be cremated." That sent a shiver through his thin body. "I don't think I'd like to be burned to a crisp, even when I'm dead. But you know, I'm not part of the family." He turned his face away. "They all remind me of that plenty," he mumbled. It seemed the comment was meant for his ears only, so I decided not to mention it. Apparently, Cody was working with the Sanders family but was never fully accepted because he wasn't family. Was that motive enough to kill one of the brothers? Didn't seem like it but people had killed for less.

  "I guess the police have been here a lot," I said. "Did you have to talk to them?"

  "Yeah, I talked to them," he said with derision. "That lady with the fancy shoes, she wanted to know where we all were on the night Rico died. We told her we were all right here at camp. It was Rico's turn to do the prep work."

  "The three of you were hanging out together here at camp?" My questions certainly sounded like part of an investigation, but Cody didn't seem the least bit put off by me asking them.

  "Yep." His throat moved in big jutting motions as he tossed back the last swallows of soda. He finished with a sigh. "Good stuff."

  I needed clarification. Establishing alibis was the top priority of a good investigator. "So the three of you were hanging around together." I put a special emphasis on the word hoping he would add details.

  "Not together . . . really. We were all here at the campsite. We see each other all day, so we're just as glad to spend time away from each other in the evening. All except Rico and Angel, of course. But she was alone last night. I think she said she was watching television while she waited for Rico to finish his work." Cody twisted his long torso back. "They own that motor home. Angel has it real cozy and nice in there." His expression looked sad for the first time since I'd sat down. "Poor thing. She's all alone now."

  "So, she was inside the motor home watching television? Alone?"

  Cody squinted at me. I was sure I'd crossed a line. Instead he smiled. "You remind me of a girlfriend I had in high school. Her name was Tina, and she was real cute like you." He took his feet off the bench next to me and sat up straighter. "I guess you're probably dating someone, eh?"

  "Yes, I am." I smiled politely not wanting to lose my star witness. "Now, about Angel watching television—"

  He slumped his shoulders again. "Yeah, it was one of those bachelor shows with the roses and all that. I could hear it through my open window."

  "So you were alone in your trailer?"

  Cody pointed out a teardrop trailer. "Yep, the one with the dent in the side. Wasn't my fault though." He was about to get sidetracked again, so I burst in with my next question.

  "And Vince was in his trailer?"

  "Probably. He said he was tired. Never saw him again that night but then I fell asleep early."

  The motor home door popped open and a curvy young woman with blue streaks in her hair and tattoos on her arms plodded down the three steps. Her eyes and nose were pink and puffy from crying. She headed toward the picnic table, then paused, seemingly worried she was going to intrude on our conversation.

  Cody waved to her. "It's all right, Angel. I wish I was over here lining up a date, but she's got a boyfriend. This is the lady who pulled Rico out of the truck and tried to save him."

  Angel pressed the back of her hand against her mouth to stifle a sob as she walked over. She nodded when she reached me. "I appreciate what you did." She pulled a tissue out of her pocket.

  Talking to Rico's widow brought back the entire incident. I still hadn't recuperated completely from it. "I'm only sorry I couldn't help." My voice wavered.

  Angel patted my shoulder.

  I sucked in a breath. "Again, I'm so sorry."

  Angel rubbed her hands together and sat next to Cody on the bench. "I'll feel better when they take that woman into jail."

  I perked up. "That woman?" I was afraid to ask. "Do they have a suspect?"

  Angel shrugged. There was a kitten tattoo on her forearm that seemed oddly placed considering it was sitting perky and cute next to a tattoo of a scary looking skull.

  "Don't know if they've got all the evidence they need but there's this crazy lady in town. She owns a diner. She made a big, ole scene outside of the truck, like we were stealing her business."

  Cody looked over at her. "Which we were. And besides, she was there." He waved his hand my direction. He snapped his fingers. "That's right. You were with the guy with the badge." His chin dropped. "Was that cop your boyfriend?" He seemed to mentally be rushing through our conversation to check if he'd said something wrong or incriminating.

  "Yes, he's my boyfriend, but he's not working on this case," I said quickly. I was starting to worry greatly about Franki. It seemed Detective Fairchild was focused on her as the main suspect, and all she had were witnesses that saw Franki get upset about the chalkboard. I was going to need to get busy to find the real killer.

  I pushed up from the bench before things got awkward and Cody realized I'd been grilling him. "It's been nice talking to you both. I'm so sorry for your loss."

  Before I made my escape, the door to Vince's trailer opened. He hopped out and headed to the truck parked in front of the trailer. He didn't say a word to anyone as he climbed inside and drove off. I peered back in time to catch Angel and Cody exchanging conspiratorial glances. No idea what was behind the exchanged looks, but I was determined to find out. Franki's life depended on it.

  Chapter 23

  Ryder had skipped lunch so he could leave early. He was so distracted that I was just as glad to let him go. My last customer of the day took such an inordinate amount of time to choose between orange and yellow roses that I practically swept her out of the shop once she had her bouquet in hand.

  I flipped over the closed sign and headed straight to the office to call Briggs. He would most likely remind me that he had nothing to do with the Rico Sanders case, but I desperately wanted to know if Fairchild was still focused on Franki.

  He picked it right up.

  "I was just going to call you," he said. "Should we pick up some pizza tonight?"

  "Pizza? I suppose," I said absently. "I need to ask you something, but I don't want the answer to turn into a lecture about staying out of the Rico Sanders case. Which I'd be perfectly willing to do if the whole thing hadn't somehow gotten Franki in trouble."

  He cleared his throat. "Perfectly willing to stay out of it?" I hated when he tossed my own words back at me.

  "Fine, so not perfectly willing. More like begrudgingly resigned to staying out of it." I reminded myself that I'd been out to the campsite to talk to Cody. "Actually, that's not true either. But let's not get tangled up in semantics. Is it true that Franki is being questioned for the murder?"

  There was a long enough pause to assure me the answer was yes.

  "Look, Lacey," Briggs said haltingly.

  "Oh my g
osh, that is never a reassuring way to start a response. The new detective is on the wrong track entirely. I'm sure it was one of the crew members. Even though you are not on the case, you apparently know what's going on. What's happening? She can't seriously be suspecting Franki."

  "If you'd let me finish," he said.

  "I will. Just don't start with 'look, Lacey' because that never ends with good news."

  A sigh of frustration whispered through the phone.

  "Sorry, James. I'm just a little upset about all this."

  "I know you are." His gentle tone helped calm me. "As far as I know, since I'm trying to stay on the outside of this case, Franki did report to Detective Fairchild for an interview. Unfortunately, she had an alibi but no one to corroborate it. She was at home . . . alone. Her boys are already back at the college campus, and the girls were out with friends. That said, of course Franki isn't the killer. We just have to let Fairchild come to that conclusion on her own."

  I got up and paced around my office. "In the meantime, poor Franki is going to have all this hanging over her head. Did Fairchild ask any of Franki's neighbors? They'd know whether or not she was home."

  "I'm going to assume she's spoken to them or has them on her list of people to talk to. Look—" He stopped abruptly. "Jeez when did I start that habit. Anyhow, Detective Fairchild is experienced, and she came highly recommended."

  A scoffing laugh burst from my mouth. "Yeah, by her own uncle." I shook my head to stop myself. "Sorry, that just sort of fell out. I'm sure she knows what she's doing."

  He laughed quietly. "That didn't sound terribly convincing. I promise if I see Detective Fairchild, I'll casually ask what's going on and get a sense of which direction she's heading. I'll also mention that I've known Franki for years and she's not a killer."

  I stopped my pacing and relaxed my shoulders. "Would you? That would be perfect. You could be Franki's character witness. Fairchild would have to take that into consideration and drop her line of pursuit. Besides, I just know it's one of the three remaining crew members. Speaking of weak alibis, they were all in separate trailers the night of the murder. Any one of them could have snuck out to knock Rico in the head and turn on the gas stove." I realized I'd said too much. His silence on the other end confirmed it. "James?" I asked tentatively.