Missy listened politely to a few more success stories. One woman advocated the cigarette diet, and Missy had to remind herself that this was a judgment free zone. Another woman talked about sleeping for sixteen hours a day. The next woman shared her South Beach success story, she’d apparently lost forty pounds in six months and was feeling better than ever. She quipped that her husband’s sex drive, which on a normal day was through the roof, had skyrocketed into the stratosphere and that they were having sex every night and he’d just started coming home for lunch a couple times this week…
Still no sign of Karen, though. Missy fidgeted in her seat and was happy to see a couple other women get up and head for the back of the ballroom, either to get a refill on their drink or to use the bathroom somewhere in the house. Missy figured she could safely get up now.
“You must be Missy.”
Missy stopped half-way out of her seat. The tall, blonde women wearing the trendy t-shirt ripped open to reveal an admittedly impressive amount of cleavage was standing next to the empty seat Missy had saved for Karen.
“Hi.”
The woman slid into the seat and Missy retook hers. They shook hands. The woman’s hand was warm and slick. She was very pretty with dazzling blue eyes and wavy blond hair but it was marred some by the nervous smile she was wearing.
“I’m Connie.”
“You must be friends with Karen,” Missy said, acting like she hadn’t seen the two of them arguing ten minutes ago by the door to the hallway.
Connie nodded. “We’re very close.”
“How do you two know each other?”
“We’ve known each for a few years, actually,” Connie said, but didn’t elaborate.
Missy wondered at the woman sitting next to her. Connie’s stare was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable.
“Karen didn’t seem herself tonight,” Connie said. “I’m a little worried.”
“I think she’s coming down with something,” Missy said, vaguely. Connie was giving her a weird vibe. The woman’s eyes never moved.
“I knew she was sick,” Connie said. “Just like Karen. She never wants to admit weakness.”
Missy frowned. That wasn’t the Karen she knew. Ever since they were little girls they’d shared their deepest, darkest secrets with each other. They had laid bare all their weaknesses and anxieties through their friendship. If Connie hadn’t gotten the same from Karen, then Missy had to question whether they were really friends or not.
“Did she say anything to you about me?” Connie asked.
There was an alarm going off in Missy’s head now. Connie was coming across like a teenager, wondering if Karen had brought her up in conversation. There was something really odd—almost desperate—about Connie.
“You know, we don’t actually talk that much.”
“Really?” Connie frowned. “Because she told me you were her closest friend.”
Missy was taken aback. They had certainly been friends in middle school, but ever since then had only seen each other a few times a year. While she still viewed Karen as a good friend, Missy wouldn’t have classified Karen as her closest friend—not by a long shot. Missy wondered why Karen had told Connie that, especially if she wasn’t that close to Connie.
Missy smiled. “We’ve been friends forever, I think that’s what she meant. We both probably know more about each other than anybody else. We were best friends in grade school.”
Connie’s gaze finally drifted away. “I see.”
Missy checked her phone again. Karen had been in the bathroom for almost twenty minutes.
“I’m going to check on her,” Missy said.
Connie acted like she hadn’t heard Missy. Instead she just kept staring off into space, as if she was lost in thought.
“Uh, excuse me, Connie. I’m just going to slip by so I can check on Karen.”
“What?” Connie seemed to come back to the present moment. “Oh, right, yes. Maybe I’ll come with you?”
Missy didn’t really want her to. Connie was putting out such a strange vibe and given that she and Karen had gotten into argument right before the meeting started, Missy really didn’t think Karen would want to talk to her, especially if Karen was pitched over a toilet bowl right now.
“You know what? If she’s feeling bad, she might not want a whole bunch of people crowding her. I’ll probably just end up getting her into her car.”
“Crowding?” Connie gave her a mean look. “Who’s crowding? It’s just the two of us.”
Missy smiled. She did not like this woman but didn’t know how to tell her no. “You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.”
Missy just stared dumbly at her for a second, trying to read her and understand why she was acting so oddly. But Connie said nothing and just returned that stare.
Missy realized she wasn’t getting anywhere. “Okay, let’s go.”
Chapter Three
T he bathroom isn’t far,” Connie said as they stepped into the hallway.
“So how long have you been coming?”
Connie gave her a suspicious look. “No offense, Missy, but this is your first time.”
Missy had had enough of this woman’s attitude and gruff demeanor. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How do I know you’ll be back? How do I know you won’t break trust?”
“Because I’m Karen’s friend.” Missy stopped walking and faced her. “She got me voted in, right? You said you were her friend too—don’t you trust Karen?”
A mixture of conflicting emotions passed over Connie’s face. “Trust has to be earned.”
“Right.” Missy folded her arms. “And right now, you’re not earning it.”
Connie turned away and started walking again. “I trust Karen, but that doesn’t mean I have to trust you.”
Missy caught up to her and they walked the rest of the hallway in silence. Before they reached the turn for the main foyer, Connie stopped in front of a closed door. Missy heard the whir of a fan inside the bathroom.
Connie was about to knock, but Missy grabbed her arm.
“Let me,” Missy said, figuring there was no harm in laying all the cards on the table now. Connie obviously didn’t like or trust her. “I don’t think Karen wants to talk to you.”
Anger flashed through Connie’s eyes. “Who do you think you are?”
“Karen’s friend.” Missy knocked loudly. “Karen, you in there?”
The fan continued to whir but there was no response.
Missy knocked again. “Karen?”
Still no response.
“I’m worried,” Connie said, the anger draining out of her face. She might not have been a nice person, but she was clearly concerned about Karen so that counted for something in Missy’s book. “She’s been in there for awhile…”
Missy knocked again. “Karen?”
“Let’s try the door.”
Missy didn’t want Connie bothering Karen, but she was more worried about her friend at this point. She tried knocking one more time and practically yelled.
“KAREN?”
Still no response. All they could hear was the fan.
Connie didn’t wait. She threw open the door and they both stepped into the tiny guest bathroom. At first, Missy couldn’t process what she was seeing, but slowly the images made sense. The towel had been pulled off the rack, the bathroom rugs were bunched and askew, the shower curtain had been torn off a couple hinges…
And Karen was facedown, crumpled on the floor, her body wedged between the toilet and the wall.
Chapter Four
M issy stood outside in the humid summer night. The rest of the women had congregated in small groups on Mrs. Butterworth’s lawn, most of them being respectful and talking quietly.
The police and ambulance arrived at the same time. For a moment, Missy expected her high school sweetheart to jump out of the lead cruiser, wearing that uniform that looked so good on him. But the police cars were painted a
different color and had different designs, reminding her she was not in Grove City. A different detective would handle this case.
But she did see a familiar face coming out of the ambulance. She remembered the local EMT serviced the county, not just Grove City.
Aaron wore a white shirt and navy blue pants. They had been in the same class throughout school and graduated high school together. Ever since she’d returned from college, Aaron had made a habit of asking her out. He was a good guy and they’d always been friendly, but she’d never felt any kind of spark.
She wished she did, because Aaron was good-looking and available. But she always found herself—unfairly—comparing the men in her life to Tyler…and so far nobody had come close. Not by a long shot.
“Miss.” He was halfway to the house when he saw her. Aaron stopped and hustled over. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Karen…” Her voice betrayed her and she couldn’t find the words. Aaron’s hand felt nice on her shoulder, and before she realized what was happening, she’d embraced him.
“Hey, Aaron, we have work to do.”
“One second,” Aaron told his partner, a younger man Missy didn’t recognize.
“Sorry.” Missy pulled away and swiped under her eyes, no doubt smearing her mascara and what little makeup she bothered to put on. She must have looked a sight.
“I’m so sorry, Miss,” Aaron said, his hand still on her shoulder. “Let me get things squared away. Then if you want to talk?”
Missy found herself nodding.
She waited outside while the EMTs did their job inside. A few minutes later, one of the police officers stepped out the front door. Missy watched him ask the nearest woman a question, and that woman pointed in Missy’s direction. He sauntered over, a little bit of swagger in his step. He was wearing plain clothes, a shirt and tie and pants but no suit coat.
“Ma’am, I’m Detective Paul Johnson. Everybody calls me PJ and you can do the same if you’d like.”
She nodded but didn’t call him anything. She hadn’t found her voice yet.
“I understand you were the one that found Karen?”
Missy nodded again. “She was my friend since grade school.”
He frowned and looked genuinely apologetic. “I’m real sorry.”
“I wasn’t alone, I was with Connie when we found her.”
He nodded. “Yes, I’ve spoken with Connie already.”
Missy heard the words but they didn’t register. “What happened to Karen?”
He absently looked back at the house. “We don’t know yet, I’m afraid.”
She shook her head. It just didn’t make sense. She’d been having a regular conversation with Karen not more than thirty minutes before she died in the bathroom…somehow.
“When will you know?” Missy asked.
“Soon enough.” His mouth smiled but his eyes didn’t. He was politely telling her to butt out, something she wasn’t exactly good at when it came to murder investigations. And this time would be even more difficult, considering the fact Karen was her good friend of many years.
PJ asked her to walk him through her night. She proceeded to give him a little bit of background about the secretive Diet Club, not caring if she was revealing anything she shouldn’t. She brought him up to speed on meeting up with Karen and then going inside to the meeting and gave him a rough timeline of when Karen had left to use the bathroom and when she’d found her there with Connie. PJ didn’t interject till she got to the end, then he circled back with some clarifying questions.
He was looking down at notepad, when he said, “Thanks, Missy. I’m very sorry this happened to your friend. We’ll be in touch if we need to follow-up on anything.”
“Wait.”
He stopped on his way back to the house and looked back at her without saying anything.
The problem was, Missy didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t Grove City. She couldn’t treat PJ like she did Tyler during an investigation. Tyler would let her in a little bit, as far as he could. But PJ wouldn’t reveal anything and was already giving her a cold shoulder.
“I just don’t understand how this happened,” Missy said, the tears coming back. “When you find out, can you…can you let me know?”
He scratched the back of his head. “I’m sorry, Missy, I can’t promise you anything. This is an open investigation.”
“PJ, I understand that…” Missy really didn’t know what to say so she tried pleading. “She was my good friend.”
He smiled sadly. “Sorry, Missy. We’ll release details when we can, if we can.”
Before she could counter (a.k.a. beg), the detective went back inside.
Chapter Five
I t was a slow day at Books and Crannies, the used bookshop Missy and her best friend, Noreen, worked at. She’d managed to get through most of a steamy romance novel she’d picked off the shelf on a lark. Missy didn’t normally read romance. Not out of some snobbish attitude but because she preferred thrillers and literary novels. But she found herself really enjoying the story and considering the author’s next book set in the same town with some of the same characters.
“Did that PJ guy ever call you?” Noreen asked, without looking up from her own book. Of late, Noreen had been on a horror/slasher kick. She was wearing her typical work outfit, a t-shirt and jean shorts. They were pretty laid back here. Their boss, Brett, wasn’t picky about work attire, his only rule was that the clothes couldn’t be “slutty” to use his phrase.
Missy couldn’t help but get angry. It had been two days since that horrific night at the Diet Club, and the detective hadn’t called her with any information. He’d politely answered her first two calls, expertly dodged her questions, and told her vaguely that Karen had died of an infection. Missy had tried him again during her lunch break, but he had yet to return her last call. Missy wondered how a woman in her thirties who’d literally just gotten sick and was in relatively good health had died that quickly of an infection. To her shame, Missy had also worried about herself. She’d hugged Karen that night and been standing right next to her during her coughing fits. Without revealing any more details, however, PJ had assured her she had nothing to worry about and if she wanted to be doubly sure, she could see her primary care physician, but that Karen’s infection wasn’t really transmittable from one person to the next.
She’d gotten a series of answers that didn’t really tell her anything, in other words.
“Not yet.”
“What time’s the viewing?” Noreen asked.
“Seven.” Missy wasn’t looking forward to going. She didn’t do well at viewings or funerals. With death in general. The last one she’d attended was her father’s, and that had been more than ten years ago. “The service is tomorrow morning.”
“Need some company?”
Missy smiled. Noreen and Karen hadn’t ever really gelled despite their mutual friend in Missy. Not that they had hated each other, but Missy knew Noreen was only offering to go as her support.
“You are awesome.”
Noreen put her paperback face down on the counter. “So we’ll be square?”
Missy laughed. It was the first time she’d laughed in two days. “Almost.”
Noreen waved her off and went back to her slasher novel. “If you’re not getting anywhere with PJ, why don’t you try Tyler?”
Missy wasn’t following. “Uh, different police departments, Nor.”
“Uh, fellowship, Miss.”
“Huh?”
Noreen looked up from her book. “They’re a band of brothers. I’ll bet they all know each other and trade favors constantly. In small towns like Grove City and Templeton, these guys get each other’s backs.”
Missy sighed. Assuming that was even remotely true, she’d still have to go through Tyler which she was loath to do. Ever since the last murder in Grove City, where Noreen had been wrongfully accused of murdering Anne Baxter, Missy had kept a very polite distance from Tyler. It wasn’t that she didn�
�t want to see him. In fact, she really wanted to see him. But that was exactly the point. She was trying to stay away. Tyler was in the midst of possibly reconciling with his wife of over ten years. Missy wanted no part of a love triangle and she didn’t want to be seen as a homewrecker. Though she was pretty sure Tyler still had feelings for her and they could have made a good couple again, what Missy really wanted was to just move on.
“Why don’t you just kiss him?” Noreen asked, as if reading her thoughts. “Kiss him and get it over with.”
“Nor.”
“Who are you talking about?” Brett, their boss, asked, coming out of the back with two arms full of books. He was wearing his usual garb: jeans, colored t-shirt, and cardigan despite the summer heat.
“Who do you think?” Noreen asked.
“Lemme guess…” Brett pretended to think about it.
“Guys, do we really have to dissect my personal life?”
“Tyler Brock?” Brett smirked.
Missy almost threw the romance novel she was reading at him. “The married Tyler Brock.”
Brett frowned. “Married? Maybe on paper. But I thought I heard she went back to Philly.”
“What?” they both said, at the same time, and as loudly as each other.
Brett managed to get all the books onto the front desk without dropping any on the floor. One pile was all historical novels written by Bernard Cornwell, every guy that came into the store’s favorite. The other pile was a mixed set of John D. MacDonald and Robert B. Parker.
“That’s what I heard,” Brett said.
“Hold on.” Noreen put her book down and grew very serious. “How on this Earth did you get a piece of gossip like that before Missy and me?”
Brett shrugged. “I’m not much to look at so I think people tend to forget I’m around. I heard a couple women talking about it last night in here.”
Missy DeMeanor Cozy Mysteries Boxset Page 30
