by Judi Lynn
The bartender smiled. “Sure is. She’ll make great tips tonight. We have a good crowd. Over there.” He pointed to a woman who looked to be five eight, with bulging biceps and short and spiky salt-and-pepper hair. He held up his hand to catch her attention and motioned to Gaff and Jazzi.
She gave a small salute, finished taking the new table’s orders, and came to see them, pushing her ticket across the bar’s scratched wooden surface. She studied them, narrowing her eyes. “What can I do for you?”
Gaff showed her his badge and introduced Jazzi. “She’s helping me on this case.”
“Good for you. Woman power, huh?” Haze wore no makeup. Her neck was covered with a tattoo of flames, inked red and orange spikes reaching for her chin. A tattoo of Don’t Tread on Me stained her right forearm.
Gaff took out his notepad. “We’re here about Darby’s murder. Is there anything you can tell us that might help?”
“Whoever did him in deserves a prize. People would take a number and stand in line to watch the old man bite the dust. And he brought it on himself.”
“No love lost, huh?”
“He was full of himself. Thought he could pour on the charm and dazzle me. Wouldn’t stop coming on to me even after I made it clear I wanted Whiskers.”
“How long did you know him?”
“Since I started working here a year ago. He and Whiskers were regulars.”
“Did he ever grab you? He latched onto his housekeeper and wouldn’t let go.”
Haze flexed her muscles. She had to lift weights. Jazzi did heavy work but didn’t have defined arms like hers. “The man was stupid, but he didn’t have a death wish. I’d have wadded him up in a ball and bounced him off a wall.”
Jazzi didn’t doubt she could do it. “Would Whiskers have gotten in a fight with Darby to protect you?”
Haze snorted. “I can take care of myself. Whiskers knows that.”
Gaff watched Jazzi drain her glass. “Want another one? I’m driving.”
“Thanks, but Ansel’s waiting to eat supper with me. I don’t want to fill up on beer. And I don’t drink much on an empty stomach.”
“Smart girl.” Haze nodded approval. “What kind of a name is Ansel?”
“Norwegian—tall and blond.”
“He’s yours?” Haze asked.
“We’re making it official November eighth.”
“Really smart girl,” Haze amended. She shrugged. “I’ve never tied the knot, but I’m growing partial to Whiskers and River Bluffs. Always moved from guy to guy and town to town before. I’m not getting any younger. Maybe it’s time to let some grass grow under my feet.” She grinned. “Who knows? I might even let Whiskers drive my Harley. He’s been bugging me to.”
Was there a man alive who didn’t have a thing for motorcycles? If there was, Jazzi hadn’t met him. “I wasn’t in any hurry to get married, either, but then I found a keeper. I’d be stupid to lose him.”
“I like you, girl. If you come back, I’ll bring you a free beer. Drag your boyfriend along, too. I’d like to meet a Norseman.”
Would Ansel be safe around Haze? She might have to hang a no touching sign around his neck.
A man two tables over motioned for Haze. “I’ve got to go, guys. Customers are calling.”
Gaff laid a five-dollar bill on the bar and got up to leave.
“Come back anytime!” the bartender called after them.
Gaff shook his head. “I don’t get that reaction too often, but when I bring you with me, people like to talk. Thanks for tagging along.”
They walked down the street to Gaff’s car. “No problem, but we’re not making much progress. I want to clear Thane’s name.”
“He has lots of company on the suspect list,” Gaff told her. “It sounds like anyone who met Darby might want to do him in.”
It did sound that way. But something had made somebody madder than usual. Jazzi wondered what that was.
Chapter 22
Jazzi called Ansel to let him know she’d be home soon. She didn’t want to talk about the case on the way there, so she tried a distraction. “What have you been up to besides work?” she asked Gaff.
“Ann and I babysat the grandkids last weekend. Our two boys and their wives went camping together, so we watched our granddaughter…” He paused when Jazzi interrupted him.
“How old is she? You told me, but I forgot.”
“That’s easy to do if you don’t see kids. She’s five. Right between our two grandsons, seven and four.”
“Whoa! They’re active at those ages, aren’t they?”
“You’d better believe it. They still go to bed early, though. A good thing, or Ann and I would have crashed before their parents came to pick them up. We were exhausted.”
Jazzi got a kick out of how much Gaff liked being a grandpa. “Let me guess. Now you can’t wait to get them back.”
He chuckled. “They make you stay young. How about you? Is everything ready for the wedding?”
“Just about. We’re having the ceremony and reception at our house. The only thing I don’t have yet is my dress.”
Gaff frowned. “That was the first thing my daughters-in-law did. Couldn’t wait to try on dresses and find the perfect one.”
“I don’t want anything too fancy. We’re trying to keep everything small, inviting only family and really close friends. A full-length dress would be too formal.”
“Our older son did the big church wedding and reception. Expensive. My other son did a small church wedding, but his wife still wore a long gown with a train. Both girls have them saved in the backs of their closets.”
“No train for me, but my family’s so excited, I want it to be a good time for all of us. Gran still talks about the engagement party Cal catered at the house. He and Aunt Lynda never made it to the altar, but I have every intention of filling his house—my house—with wonderful memories.”
“You already have. I want you to adopt me so I can come to your Sunday meals.”
Jazzi laughed. “I think your Ann likes having you home on the weekends.”
“She keeps telling me that.” He grinned. Jazzi had met Gaff’s wife, and she was perfect for him—warm and open. She oozed charm.
Gaff pulled in her driveway to drop her off. As she slid out of the car, he called, “Buy yourself a pretty dress!”
“Will do.” She gave him a wave good-bye and headed to the back patio and the kitchen door. When she walked inside, Ansel turned from their six-burner stove, looking proud of himself. “Supper’s almost ready.”
She sniffed the air. “Something smells good.”
“Chili and cornbread. If you get the drinks, I’ll carry the food over.”
Inky and Marmalade raced to greet her. “You guys were a little slow.” Stooping to pet them, she asked Ansel, “Have you already fed them?”
“It’s either that or they won’t leave me alone. They had to tear themselves away from the big front window, though. They’ve been watching a chipmunk run back and forth.” He put the pan of cornbread on a trivet and went back for the chili.
When the cats ran back to the window, Jazzi grabbed Ansel two beers and poured herself a glass of wine. She carried them to the kitchen island and sat on the stool next to his. “Thanks for making supper.”
“I got the recipe off my phone. It has a little heat. Thought we’d try something a little spicy.”
She wasn’t as big a fan of spice as he was. Okay, in all honesty, she was a wimp. He dished them each a bowl while she cut pieces of cornbread. Then he dug in, lurched back, and grabbed for his beer.
After watching him, Jazzi took a teeny bite, gasped, and gulped down wine. Could you catch your tongue on fire? Burn your tonsils? Melt your teeth?
He spooned a little of the evil mix over his cornbread. “If we eat them together, they’ll bala
nce each other out.”
Right. His face turned red, and he emptied his bottle of beer. He put a hand to his throat. “That stuff’s freakin’ dangerous.”
Jazzi moved to her cornbread. She was hungry, but not desperate enough to turn her stomach into a furnace. “What did you put in it?”
“A couple of jalapeños, a habañero, hot sauce, and chili powder.”
She decided not to state the obvious. Her lips felt numb. “It’s too spicy for me.”
He looked at the Dutch oven, full of chili. “Do you think the pets would eat it?”
“I thought you liked George.”
He pushed his bowl away. “I hope it doesn’t melt the garbage disposal.”
She laughed and leaned over to hug him. “Hey, you tried something new. I give you credit for that. What if we grill some sausage links to go with the cornbread?”
He tossed a dirty look at his cell phone. “Ten people gave this recipe five stars.”
“Maybe their taste buds are made out of asbestos.” She dug two packages of smoked sausage out of the fridge and turned on the burner for the stove’s grill top. In ten minutes, she and Ansel were back at the island, eating their meal. The chili had gone the way of the disposal, and Ansel cleaned the pan to “remove the evidence.”
She told him about Whiskers and the bar while they ate. “Haze wants to meet you, but I think she might like you a little too much.”
Finished eating, she carried the dirty dishes to the sink to rinse, and he loaded the dishwasher.
“I’m not afraid of women with tattoos. Not when I have you.”
“Haze looks like a woman who could handle spicy,” she told him. “She’d probably want more.”
“I’m ignoring that.”
The couches called to them. When she glanced at the side table near hers, three brides’ magazines were fanned out to catch her attention. “Is this a hint?”
He got up to sit next to her, scooting the cats out of the way. “I marked the pages of the gowns I like.”
She was afraid to look, but he picked up the first magazine and turned to page forty-seven. “What about this one?”
Could there be more flounces and seed pearls on a dress? And what would she do with a train that long? She shook her head. “Too fancy.”
He flipped to page eighty-three. She stared. “Really? The neckline dips almost to the model’s belly button.”
“You have great cleavage.”
“That shows more than cleavage. I might as well go topless. What’s next?”
He showed her one gown after another. When he closed the last magazine, she gave him a look. “Are you sure you don’t want a royal wedding? You didn’t pick one dress that wouldn’t work in a cathedral with twenty bridesmaids in attendance.”
“Just because we’re getting married at home doesn’t mean you can’t go all out.”
“The whole point of getting married at home is that I want to keep everything simple.”
“Well, maybe I don’t.”
She stared. Had seeing all of the fancy gowns and wedding accessories disappointed him with their plans? “You should have thought of that before.”
“Why? You won’t even go to the bother of buying a dress.”
Ouch! She stood, hands on hips. “I’m going with Mom and Olivia. Things have just been busy.”
“Too busy to buy a dress. Maybe you can order one from Amazon.”
She gaped. “Maybe I won’t go to the bother. I have some white slacks in my closet.”
“Fine, I think I still have a pair of coveralls from the farm.”
She glared at him. “Maybe we rushed this marriage thing. After we lived together a while, Chad didn’t like the way I did things either.” She tried not to think about her former fiancé. Things had turned ugly before they broke up. She turned and started for the stairs. “I’m done talking to you. I’m going up to read.”
“Fine.” He stretched out on his sofa. “I’m watching TV.”
She stomped up the steps, so angry her hands curled into fists. She grabbed her book off the nightstand and marched to the guest room. Idiot man could sleep with his dog tonight. The cats looked confused but followed her to the smaller bedroom and jumped up to be with her. It took a long time before she could concentrate on the novel’s story, but her heartbeat finally settled, and she lost herself in its pages.
An hour later, she heard Ansel climb the stairs. He came to find her, carrying two glasses of wine. He held one out to her. “A peace offering. I’m sorry. I caused our first spat.”
She blinked at him. “You call that a spat?”
“It’s part of being a couple, isn’t it? We can’t always agree on everything. But I did rush you into marrying me, and you’ve done everything to make it a great ceremony. You’ll find the perfect dress, too. I’m getting anxious, that’s all.”
She let out a long breath. “I will get a dress, even if I have to drive to Indy to find one, but I’m running out of time. I know that.”
“Most dresses need to be fitted. That takes a while.”
She patted the bed next to her, and he sank onto it. She took the wine from him and held up her glass to clink with his. “Have you found a suit?”
“It’s getting tailored as we speak.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“It’s a secret.” He smiled and sipped from his glass. “I don’t like having you mad at me. If we’re over our fight, I think we should have makeup sex.”
She laughed. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“No, but I know I got your blood pumping enough that you probably need something to help get rid of all of that pent-up energy.”
What she needed was something to make things right again. And great sex sounded like the perfect fix. They stood and carried their glasses to the master bedroom. Ansel had left the wine bottle there.
Tomorrow, Gaff hadn’t planned any interviews. She could spend the entire day at the job site and take a break from murder to concentrate on gutters…and Ansel.
Chapter 23
Wouldn’t you know it? It rained buckets on Tuesday.
On the drive across town, Ansel glared at the dark clouds that blanketed River Bluffs. “No outside work today. The rain’s supposed to stay until late tonight.”
“The weatherman predicted sun tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope he’s right, and let’s hope good weather holds, at least until we get the outside projects done.”
When they reached the house, Jazzi held the umbrella so that Ansel, carrying George, could huddle under it with her. Rain pounded on it as they ran to the front porch. The hems of Jazzi’s jeans were soaked, her gym shoes squishy. Inside, they found Jerod standing in the kitchen, staring out the window. He looked as gloomy as the stormy skies.
“What now?” Ansel asked.
Her cousin waved toward the job list they’d tacked up. “We start on the first job inside. We can’t hang gutters in a downpour.”
Jazzi read the top item on the list. “Knock down walls. Put up support beams.”
Jerod nodded. “I’m in the mood for demolition. I keep watching one good weather day after another slip away. It’s making me antsy. I wish Gaff would let us finish the driveway.”
“Let’s ask him again.” Jazzi pulled on her work gloves and reached for a sledgehammer. She walked to the kitchen wall they wanted to remove and started pounding cracks in it. Ansel grabbed the broken edges and ripped big chunks off the studs. Jerod cleaned up behind them, throwing the pieces in the dumpster. When they finished in the kitchen, they went to the dining room and removed that drywall, too. Right away, the rooms looked bigger.
“Now we gut the kitchen,” Jerod told them. “I’d like to keep the built-ins in the dining room. What do you think?”
“The corner cabine
ts are old-fashioned, but they’re in great shape. The window seat looks out onto the backyard. Add a cushion and it’ll make a fun reading nook.”
Jerod nodded. “They might need paint, but they can stay.”
They started pulling off cupboards and toting out appliances. There was no way for anyone to hold an umbrella, but the rain had slowed a little. They got wet, but not soaked. The kitchen had been dinky. They finished it by lunchtime.
“Let’s eat before we start on the floors.” Ansel was used to bigger suppers than they’d had last night. She’d packed extra roast-beef sandwiches, prepared.
Thane and his crew arrived right when they were returning to work.
“Still want a new furnace and air conditioner?” he asked.
“No choice. The old ones are shot.” Jerod rinsed his coffee mug and set it on the card table. Everything else in the kitchen was gone.
Thane gave them a thumbs-up. “Opening up this space makes a big difference.” He started to the basement, then hesitated. “Did you know Walker found a note with his dad’s papers that said ‘Fire Colin’? Nothing else. He has no idea if his dad followed through on it or why he wrote it.”
Jazzi pursed her lips, thinking. “Darby was having money problems. Maybe he couldn’t afford to keep him.”
“Walker said Colin’s always been a good worker. He plans on keeping him.” His crew started carrying furnace parts down the steps, and Thane went to help them.
“Do you think Darby told Colin he didn’t need him anymore, they argued, and Colin lost his temper?” Jazzi grabbed a crowbar to pry off old kitchen floor tiles. She groaned when one layer came off, only to reveal two more layers beneath it.
“I’m guessing no one paid much attention to anything Darby said.” Jerod sighed. “We just get luckier and luckier with this house.” He bent to touch the bottom layer. “Oil-based. Those things stick. We’re going to be at this a while.”
Ansel grabbed a flat shovel to scoop up the tiles Jazzi had loosened. “Each layer gets uglier than the one before. I’m guessing none of these people spent time in the kitchen.”
Thunder rumbled overhead, and the rain picked up again.
