We had over the last few days, marathoning it. I felt like I didn’t want to ask another question or watch another woman’s devastation over this case. Every time I had to, I admired the police more. Who was guilty? I believed everybody, but I knew that wasn’t smart. Someone had done this, and that someone had heard Lissa on the phone with me and didn’t care.
“She called me saying she knew who Dr. Bloomberg’s partner is,” I explained.
Spencer’s countenance darkened. “Partner? Why is this the first I’m hearing about this, Makayla?”
“Because I didn’t believe her. I mean from what she told me, the doctor was just ordering drugs or at least that’s what I assumed. There was no other evidence that there was someone else working with him.”
Spencer surged to his feet and slammed a hand on the desk. “When did you become an officer of the law?”
“You’re being dramatic, Spencer.” My tone was offhand, but guilt was killing me.
“When?” he snapped.
“I didn’t.”
“So who gave you the right to interpret what is evidence and what isn’t?”
My lips might as well have been glued together for all my ability to speak. I seethed. He might be right, but to speak to me that way, I refused to accept it. I turned my head away from him and folded my arms, counting under my breath to calm down. Spencer growled in frustration and sank into his chair. When he spoke, he sounded steadier and apologetic. “Tell me everything she said previously and earlier tonight.”
I told him, and he processed it all, his fingers steepled before him. I could tell the wheels turned in a different way in his head than they had in mine. Spencer did not dismiss anything out of hand when it came to a case. “Ever,” he explained to me. “When we don’t have all the facts, we don’t know which part of what we do have is a fact.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, feeling quite small.
“It’s not your fault, Makayla.”
“If I had told you sooner, she might be alive.”
“Lissa was determined to do all she could to help the investigation because she felt guilty for doing nothing for so long. Is that what you want? To act out of guilt?”
“No, of course not!”
“Then forgive yourself. We have a case.”
I frowned at him. “You can be so harsh, Spencer Norwood.”
“I’m trying my best to do my job and keep everyone safe. As of right now, you’re done.”
“What?” I jumped to my feet. “But you just said we have to get through the list. We’re halfway there. If we split the names, we’ll get through it faster.”
“This isn’t up for discussion. I don’t want to get a call in the middle of the night telling me something has happened to you.”
“Spencer, I appreciate your concern, but I can hardly get into trouble questioning the patients with you.”
“Yet, you just suggested we do it separately.”
“Hm, you recalled that part, did you?” I thought it over. “Well, we can keep at it together.”
“Have you told me everything you know, Makayla?”
“Yes, I promise I have.”
“Good. I’ll have an officer take you home, and you can pick up your car later. Good night.”
“Spencer!”
“You look like you’re about to drop, Makayla. It’s late, and I’m tired too, but I have a lot of work to do. It’s better that you go home and leave this to the professionals.”
I took my time standing up. “In other words, I’m off the case? Not even interviews?”
“Nothing. Go home. That’s an order.”
“You can’t order me. I’m not one of your officers, remember?”
He said nothing, but his expression voiced a mouthful. I spun on my heel and stomped toward the exit. As the door shut and I reached the waiting squad car outside, I acknowledged to myself that I was scared out of my mind. I wanted to bury my head in the sand and pretend I had never had anything to do with Dr. Bloomberg’s murder case. In fact, I would love to bring up that warm and fuzzy dream I had been having before I left my bed. No dice. Butterflies and kittens were on leave until the murderer was caught, so like it or not, sheriff, I had to see this thing through.
Chapter Fourteen
“Are you sure about going in with me, David?” I needed to talk to Brandon, and I worried about poor David coming along, but he had insisted.
David, dressed in black low-slung jeans and a black leather jacket, waved a hand in dismissal. “I am free to go wherever I wish, and today I wish to go to the bookstore.”
I studied him doubtfully. “By your own admission, mister, you don’t read much. You wanted to use the excuse of Brandon recommending a book to have a chance to talk to him. I’m just not sure you’ve given up all of that now that we know he’s seeing Inna.”
“We’re young, feelings change.”
“David!”
“All right.” He pouted. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not the type to run after men, honey. They run after me. Anyway, like I told you. I’ve moved on. Let’s go. I’m getting excited about joining you in solving the mystery.”
I had come to David’s jewelry store to meet him for our interview with Brandon. He had been helping a couple customers, and when he finished, he flipped the Open sign to Be Back Soon. I began to doubt again whether he truly had let go of hope when instead of heading out the door, he walked to the back of his shop and checked his reflection in a full length mirror there. Catching me watching, he winked at my reflection and spun to face me.
I shook my head. The longer I knew David, the more affection I had for him, but he kept me off center as to how he thought. Perpetually positive, I supposed. “It’s more than a mystery, David. This is a murder investigation, and Spencer told me to leave it to the police.”
“But you never listen, right?”
“Not never,” I denied with some humor.
“And you didn’t have a glass or three of wine with me so we could talk over your issues with him.”
“What does that have to do with it? I don’t have issues.”
David’s eyebrow crawled higher on his forehead. I spun away to head toward the bookstore, and he followed. “You say I’m in denial. Honey, you take the prize.”
“Then I want to thank all the little people who got me to where I am!”
David and I both laughed as we crossed Main Street to the bookstore, which was just one of three jobs Brandon held. The young, enterprising man also helped out the funeral home on some weekends, and he was our local delivery person. While Allie Kate hated that Inna had fallen for him, I for one was glad she was seeing a good guy. He was a little older than her at twenty-two but not so bad given she was a legal adult.
The inside of the bookstore was quieter than the library. The distinct scent of paper and binding permeated the air but without the musk, and the owner, an older woman, enjoyed scented candles, so there was always an added aroma of lavender, which was quite pleasant.
The bookstore was small but not cluttered as was the store where Inna now worked. David and I separated just after entering the establishment, and I had no problem making my way to the register and greeting the young woman there. “Hello, is Brandon around today? I was told he would be working.”
“Sure, he’s unpacking a new shipment we got in. He won’t be long.”
I offered her a smile and thanks then hung out next to the shelves containing thrillers. Not my preferred reading, but I found myself scanning the titles nonetheless. Brandon appeared ten minutes later, and while I hadn’t seen David the entire time, he reappeared around a corner as if sensing the man.
“Makayla, what about this one?” David waved a book in the air. “It’s about baboons. That’s what you were looking for, right?”
Brandon, who had just drawn up to me with a shy smile, paused and looked at David and registered what he had said. The scamp. David knew we had been discussing no such subject.
Rather
than follow my occasionally warped sense of humor in this situation, I ignored David. “Hi, Brandon, do you have a moment to talk to me?”
His gaze shifted from me to David again and back to me. Then he moved behind the counter at the register to relieve the woman working there. “Sure, if you don’t mind me helping customers while we do. I have to let Zoe take her break.”
“No problem,” I assured him.
“Be back in thirty,” Zoe announced and retrieved a purse from beneath the counter, looped the strap over her head, and headed out the door.
Since there were no customers nearby at the moment and only one in the store, out of earshot, I took advantage of the timing. “Brandon, I wanted ask you about a camera pen.”
“A…” He frowned in confusion. “Camera pen?”
“Yes, the police found a camera pen beside Dr. Bloomberg’s body when they discovered it.”
Brandon didn’t appear all that interested.
“I guess you’ve heard every version of this, especially in the bookstore with people standing around gossiping.”
He shrugged.
“Anyway, I wanted to ask you about it because—”
A strangled sound escaped his throat, and he held up his hands in defense. “Why me?”
Brandon was usually so shy and reserved around me that I had always wondered how he could handle so many jobs that brought him into contact with so many people. Then I realized each came with the types of responsibilities that meant he could tuck his head down and just keep moving, especially the delivery job. He probably had a lot of packages to hand out and a schedule to stick to. When I had tried to get him to tell me who Talia received her packages from, he had refused to gossip. So I already knew he had a high work ethic. I didn’t hold out much hope that he would tell me anything useful now, but I had to ask.
“I’m not accusing you of anything, sweetheart,” I assured him.
“Is it because I asked you about learning photography because if you think I would ever—”
“No, really, Brandon. I didn’t mean it that way.”
The man practically shook with fear, and I regretted my clumsy way of approaching the subject matter. The fact was Brandon had mentioned previously that he might like to learn photography, but he had said the technical side, reading manuals, memorizing terminology and the like all bored him, and I hadn’t blamed him. Many of my skills had come from trial and error, not from a structured classroom. I had promised him if he came to me, I wouldn’t bog his mind down with subjects such as the history of photography or even the technical mumbo-jumbo. He would, however, learn when to use a fifty-millimeter lens over a hundred millimeter one. That is, when he was ready.
To settle him further, I said, “I’m asking because you deliver packages. Now, I know you’re very strict about sharing your customers’ information, but—”
“Yes, I won’t risk my job, Makayla.”
“And I would never dream of asking you to.”
The trapped expression on his face faded, and he began to look a bit more embarrassed than panicked. I thought of the time I had chased him out of my apartment building trying to convince him the impression Talia had given him about me was all wrong. Brandon and I seemed destined to fall into misunderstandings. My guilt at upsetting him almost made me abandon the idea of questioning him, but I forged on. After all, the sooner we found out who did this, the safer we would be.
I glanced at David, who was being no help at all. Rather David kept shooting glances over at Brandon as he pretended to study the back of a book he held. David came across as very confident, but he was almost as awkward as Brandon. The energetic jeweler bounced about, hiding who he really was whether dealing with work or pleasure, while Brandon’s shyness came through loud and clear. Meanwhile, no one ever accused Makayla Rose of being shy. No one who knew me.
“You know, Brandon,” I said, taking another tactic, “the police could get a court order to force your company into showing them the shipping records, especially having to do with Dr. Bloomberg. I’m actually surprised Spencer hasn’t already been to see your boss.”
“That’s true.” Brandon scratched his head. “But it doesn’t affect me. I’m not the boss, and if he’s done something he shouldn’t, well the sheriff should get him. ’Course I’d hate to lose that job because my boss got arrested…”
His voice trailed off as he thought about the implications and probably how much of a hassle it would be to get something else. I found myself amused at the way he thought. Brandon didn’t appear to think too hard on the crime but more on staying employed. He had a one track mind indeed.
“Brandon?” I prompted, when he stayed too long in his own head.
He blinked at me. “I could do some digging, see if I can find out anything. I don’t really have access to the boss’s records.”
I clutched my hands together in front of me and leaned toward him. “Oh could you?”
“Sure. Who knows? Maybe he’ll just cooperate and the police will find a lead.”
“We can hope. Thanks, Brandon. You’re a doll for doing this. You have my number, right?”
“I don’t,” he said. “Can I get it from Inna?”
“Yes, you can.” I lowered my voice. “Also, it’s great that you and she hit it off, and I hope it lasts a long time.”
He ducked his head but nodded, and I let the poor man off the hook by dropping the subject. As I turned away from the counter, David whipped up beside me and leaned an elbow on it. His full attention was trained on Brandon, and he tilted his head to the side.
“Brandon, if your boss turns out to be a nasty murderer, you can always come and work as my assistant. I’ll pay you well and treat you fair.”
“Thanks,” Brandon said in a raspy tone, his wide gaze locked on David.
I blew out a noisy breath, rolled my eyes, and dragged my friend toward the exit. Once we were on the street, David practically walked on air. “He said he would consider my offer, Makayla. I am forever hopeful.”
“Oh, David, he looked like you terrified him. He practically lost his voice when he answered.”
“That was emotion, honey, all emotion!”
“The wrong kind,” I shot back.
David refused to believe me, but since he was no longer depressed—which he seemed never to be for long—I let it go. At least we had made progress. I had nothing new, of course, but like David, I had hope. Who knew? Brandon might call me tomorrow to say his boss had been completely forthcoming and we had a name and address for where Dr. Bloomberg had bought his equipment. Everything was just a matter of time.
Chapter Fifteen
At five in the evening, I was just putting the finishing touches on my makeup when raised voices caught my attention. I frowned into the bathroom mirror at my place and strained my ears to hear. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought up until a half hour ago, Talia’s music had been blasting all over the building. My ears still rang from it, which sometimes made me think I heard it when in fact she had turned it off. Since I could hear arguing now, I was sure the music had silenced.
I capped the eyeliner pencil and set it on the sink then left my bathroom in a swish of pants leg material. My thighs were pleading for the gym, and I confess, I was starting to agree. I walked to the front door and listened again. This time, I was sure. Edna’s voice and Talia’s echoed in the hall, along with a male voice. I groaned.
“You did this to spite me,” Talia shouted when I opened my door.
“I did not,” Edna shot back. “All of our friends love my treats, and I thought more people would. It’s a good way to keep myself busy.”
“Oh stop trying to be goody-goody, Edna Butler. You’ve pretended for seventy years, and I’m sick of it!”
“You’re sick? Well, I’d like to see the day I don’t have to take second fiddle to your big head, Talia Johnston!”
“My big head? So this is about your jealousy.”
“Ladies,” I shouted, running into the hallway. �
��What is this about? You’re behaving like children. Why are you arguing out here?”
Talia turned a spiteful eye on me and ignored the question. “Where are you going? Out with the married man?”
I gasped and clamped my teeth together. Her words hit too close to home from when I had let my heart travel down the wrong path in the past. However, she was way off base. Spencer was not married.
Before I could speak, Talia yelped in pain, and she rounded on Edna, rubbing her arm. “You pinched me.”
Edna rocked on her heels, hands tucked behind her back. “I don’t know what you mean, Talia. Maybe you’ve got bugs.”
Talia raised her hands with curled fingers as if she would retaliate, but Ollie, who had been the male voice I had heard, stepped between them and pushed gently at his intended. “Please, you two, no more fighting. You’re giving me a headache.”
I couldn’t help my amusement and placed a fist to just beneath my nose, avoiding my lips because I had just applied lipstick. To put a stop to the antics of the two women, I signaled Edna, and she offered me a sweet smile before making her way down the stairs toward me.
Talia had accused Edna of pretending to be sweet, and I wondered. With my own eyes, I had seen Edna pinch her friend, but it was just a pinch. Talia most certainly deserved it, but they had both been insulting each other.
“You look lovely, Makayla,” Edna told me when she reached me.
“Thanks, Edna. Will you come into my apartment and tell me what’s going on?”
She hooked her arm through mine and walked at my side as if she hadn’t just told her best friend she had to compete with her big head. For the record, Talia’s head was not out of proportion with her diminutive size, but yes, the ego—monumental. You’ve seen the evidence of that for a while now.
Once we were inside my apartment, I shut the door. “Why were you two fighting?”
Edna shrugged. “I finally told her.”
I snorted and didn’t mean to. “About her head?”
“No.” Edna giggled. “She flushed so satisfyingly when I said that, but no, I meant about the baking, dear.”
2 Multiple Exposures Page 11
