"You're still married, though, aren’t you? So…"
She shook her head. "You saw his mistress last night. Lucia. She is very bold. She wants more than jewelry. She wants a wedding. He will divorce me soon. I give it six months."
I nodded, not really understanding, but trying to. "Okay. So you married him for the painting. He didn't give it to you. It became clear to you that he was never going to give it to you. And that he was likely to divorce you soon. But because of the pre-nup you couldn't just ask for it in the divorce."
She nodded.
"So then you contacted your first husband, who has a history of stealing things, and…asked him to steal the painting for you?"
"Yes."
"How? When?"
"I had Lucas hire him. It gave him access to the house."
"But he didn't do it."
She shrugged. "I do not know if he tried, but he did not succeed."
I thought about it a moment. "So it's possible that Kristof was killed because he tried to steal the painting?"
"Perhaps. I think Friedrich is not a killer, though. And Kristof was not the best at making choices."
"But someone needs to look into it. Just in case. Did you tell the police?"
She gave me a look that had me feeling like a child asking if the moon was really made of cheese.
I winced. "Sorry. I guess you can't exactly tell the cops you hired a thief to steal a painting and he turned up dead. Especially if you ever want to hire someone else to steal it."
She didn't respond, just smiled a thin-lipped smile. I met her calm gaze, wondering what I'd gotten myself into. "So how does Matt's brother, Jack, fit into all of this?"
"Jack? Who is this?"
"The man who confronted you here the other day. And who showed up at the party last night. Jack Barnes."
"Ah. This man is the brother of your cop?"
"Matt's not my cop."
She raised one elegantly sculpted eyebrow until I blushed and looked away.
"Anyway. How does Jack fit into this? What did he say to you?"
She studied her nails for a long moment and I expected she'd tell me it was a private conversation and none of my business, but then she sighed and looked at me once more. "That he was a friend of Kristof's, and he knew I had hired him."
"That's all?"
She nodded.
"No offense, Greta, but that's not what it looked like to me. It looked like he said a heckuva lot more than that."
She sniffed. "Fine. He said he was a friend of Kristof's. He knew that I had hired Kristof to steal the painting. And he threatened to tell my husband. He wanted a considerable amount of money in exchange for his silence. I told him no. And I informed him that my husband would not care."
"That's all? Was there anything else?"
She narrowed her gaze. "Yes. That is all."
"So was he trying to scare you last night? Or expose you?"
"I do not know. What I know is that I will not pay this man to protect my secret. He cannot blackmail me if I do not care."
Made sense. Maybe.
I leaned closer. "Why are you telling me all of this? Earlier you said it was none of my business."
She pursed her lips, looking considerably older than she normally did. "Because you are my friend. And you are smart. And you know the cop. I do not want to lose your friendship. And I also hope to find the reason Kristof is dead."
"But how can I help?"
She smiled and took a bite of cheesecake, waiting for me to figure it out.
"Oh. You want me to tell Matt. You can't tell him because then you'd be confessing to a crime. Or more than one I guess. But if I tell Matt, it's just a rumor he can investigate."
She nodded slightly as she took a final bite of cheesecake.
"Okay." I nodded. "I can do that. Thank you for telling me, Greta."
"Thank you for listening, Maggie."
As I cleared our plates and walked to the back of the store I wondered how much of what she'd told me was actually true. I liked Greta. I considered her a friend. And normally I'll take anything anyone tells me at face value, at least initially, but there was something about her story that just didn't quite sit right with me.
Maybe it was the fact that she wanted me to believe she'd married a man for his painting. I mean, who does that? I knew she wasn't big on love. And there's certainly been more than one attractive woman who has traded her looks for a comfortable life over the years, but…a painting? Really? When you were already that wealthy?
I shook my head.
Rich people, I swear. They live in a different world from the rest of us.
Well, whatever the truth, the least I could do is tell Matt about my conversation with Greta and let him sort fact from fiction. He was a trained investigator. He'd figure it out.
Chapter Sixteen
Half an hour after Greta's grand reveal, Wilhelm walked through the door. He was dressed like a bad Italian pimp in a shiny, skinny suit and smelled even worse, the overdone scent of his cologne clogging up the air.
"Maggie. So this is your little shop." He looked around the place and I could see him struggling not to sneer, especially when he saw the kitschy little tourist area we had between the barkery and café counters.
"Mr. VanVeldenstein. To what do I owe this pleasure?" I answered through gritted teeth, hoping he wasn't there for the reason I thought he was.
Greta set aside her book and watched us with a slight smirk on her face. I had no doubt she was on my side in whatever might happen. She thought her nephew an ineffectual fool.
He leaned against the barkery counter and reached a hand towards my hair which I'd thrown into a messy bun early that morning and not thought about since. I ducked back. The customer may always be right, but the customer who tries to touch me without my permission deserves to lose a limb.
He chuckled in such a patronizing way I wanted to do him physical harm. "Oh, Maggie. You have such potential. Like an uncut diamond. I could take you in hand and make you into something amazing."
He could, could he? A dozen not very nice replies ran through my mind, but I settled for, "Were you looking to buy something for a dog? Because that's what we are, you know. A dog barkery."
"Oh no."
"Well then you should really go to the café counter. Betty can get you a coffee or a cinnamon roll or whatever you need."
"Mm. You want to play it that way, do you?" He stood up and smiled that smarmy smile of his. "That's alright. I like a good challenge."
"I'm not a challenge. Just simply not interested."
"You would prefer that cop?"
Any day of the week, buddy, I thought to myself.
He leaned closer, eyeing my neck. "Every woman has a price. It's just a matter of finding it. What kind of jewels do you like? Sapphires perhaps? Or rubies? Flowers are so passé, don't you think? Far better to be given something of value."
"Really, I'm fine. As you can see, I'm not much for jewelry."
"Ah, you just haven't acquired the taste yet. You will."
I was on the verge of telling him exactly what I thought of him, when the door jangled and Jack walked in. He immediately went to Greta's table and sat down without asking.
I wanted to go tell him to get the heck out of my store and stop harassing my customers, but I didn't dare put myself in reach of Wilhelm. He was the type to think an unwanted kiss was exciting courtship and with enough lawyers on speed dial to get out of any assault charges I might want to file.
Interestingly, though, Wilhelm lost interest in me as soon as Jack walked through the door.
He watched intently as Greta and Jack repeated their conversation of the other day with Jack starting off confident, Greta not caring, and Jack slowly wilting against his chair.
"That man. He threatened my uncle." Wilhelm said, his voice suddenly sharp and in control. "Why would you allow a man like that in here?"
I wanted to answer that I'd rather have a man like Jack Barnes in m
y store any day of the week than a man like Wilhelm, but I refrained. Instead, I said, "He didn't threaten your uncle. He told him he had information for him. If anything, he was threatening the subject of that information."
Greta? Or perhaps Wilhelm who turned a little pale at my comment.
Once again, Greta dismissed Jack and went back to her book, acting as if he wasn't even there. And once again Jack stormed out of the door. But this time Wilhelm went after him.
I was relieved to have Wilhelm leave, but watched closely as he and Jack had a confrontation in the parking lot. I assumed Wilhelm was telling Jack off for barging into the party and "threatening" his uncle, but of course I couldn't hear anything.
Jack certainly looked puzzled by the man's reaction, but that didn't stop him from getting up in Wilhelm's face. They argued back and forth for a moment and then both men left, peeling tires as they drove away in opposite directions, Wilhelm in a Mercedes I was pretty sure was worth millions and Jack in his truck that was definitely nicer than I would've expected an ex-con to drive.
I turned my attention to Greta after they'd left. "Care to tell me what that was all about?"
"The same as before. He is a persistent man, this Jack Barnes." She shrugged and returned to reading her book.
I stared out the window, wondering if that was really true. And if it was, how Wilhelm fit into it.
Chapter Seventeen
I called Matt before I headed home, figuring he could come over for dinner and I'd fill him in on what Greta had told me.
"Maggie May," he answered. I could hear the smile in his voice. "This is starting to become a pattern."
"Yeah, yeah. Don't get used to it."
"What's up?"
"I had an interesting conversation today with Greta. One I'm sure she'll deny if you ask her about it directly. You want to come over for dinner tonight and I'll tell you all about it?"
"How about you come by my place instead?"
"Ahhh…." Somehow going to his place put things in a whole different light. Was this a date?
"Don't worry. You can bring Fancy. The yard is fenced. I'll even put down a sharing plate for her."
"Umm…I don't know. Is Jack gonna be there?"
"You want him to be?" I could hear Matt tense up through the phone.
"No. I didn't say that. It's just that what I have to tell you involves him, too, so it'd be a little awkward if he was there."
Although perhaps better on a personal level…
"He won't be. He just texted and said he was going to the Creek Inn tonight to catch up with some old friends. It'll just be you and me. So? What do you say?"
I frowned at the wall. I try very hard not to get myself into awkward situations. I figure it's always better to not give a guy a chance to make a move you'll have to reject than to body block him when he does. Which means I generally don't let myself be alone with a guy I'd want to body block. (Only exception I make to that rule is when it's a guy I am very, very confident isn't going to try anything. Or one I'm willing to let make that move.)
With Matt…
Well…
Hm.
"Yeah, I'll be there. But please tell me we're not going to be eating Ramen noodles and tuna fish for dinner."
He laughed. "I actually make a pretty mean burger, I'll have you know."
"So you can cook. All this time we've been inviting you over for dinner because we were worried you were starving, and you've been perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. Wait until my grandpa hears about this."
He laughed again. "Six-thirty?"
"Six-thirty. See you then."
My hands were shaking as I put my phone away. I didn't know why. It was nothing. Just dinner between some friends. He was not going to try something. He wasn't like that. Matt was the kind of guy who'd literally need a woman to plop down in his lap before he tried something. And even then he'd probably just ask her if she'd fallen and offer to help her stand back up.
But if I was wrong…
No. I wasn't. I knew men and Matt was too respectful for that.
(Unfortunately.)
Still. No use sending him any sort of signals, which is why I was going to resist the strong urge I had to put on a little makeup and brush my hair and teeth before I went over there.
It was a business dinner. Nothing more.
I arrived at Matt's at exactly 6:25. I was still a little early, but not near as early as I'd been before I drove around the block twice. Fancy was thoroughly confused by that, let me tell you, but I didn't want to be rude and show up twenty minutes early like I would have otherwise.
That's a constant struggle for me. I don't like being late so I'm generally too early and then have to find some way to kill that extra ten or fifteen minutes until I can be acceptably early. When I'm anywhere near a bookstore that causes problems. I figure I can sneak in for a just a few minutes and maybe grab a new title to read, but then I get distracted and all of a sudden I go from being twenty-five minutes early to five minutes late. I swear, bookstores are my kryptonite.
But fortunately there were none anywhere near Matt's house (or in the entire county) so I'd just driven around the block until I could arrive early but not so early I accidentally caught him in the shower.
Matt's place was a converted mobile home on the outskirts of town. It looked just like any single-story home to the uninitiated, but I happened to know its history from a few things Matt had said. His parents had brought it to the valley and placed it on a plot of land and then his father had expanded it by building on two more rooms and an extra bathroom.
It wasn't pretty—tan with dark brown trim—but it was well-maintained and on a decent-sized plot. There was even a fenced yard out back. And the view of the mountains was to die for, especially with the sun setting. I paused next to the van to take it in, reminding myself that it was these little moments in life that made the rest of it worthwhile.
Fancy lay down at my feet. I swear, her life philosophy is "why stand when you can lie down."
Jack came out the front door and gave me a funny look as he ran his fingers through his hair, expertly messing it up into that bad boy chic look that fit him so well.
I took a moment to admire his beauty, too, knowing he wouldn't mind or find it strange the way Matt probably would if I ever looked at him that way.
"Maggie May." He winked and looked me over in turn. "No overnight bag? Does that mean there's still hope for me yet?"
"Not a chance."
"Your heart beats only for Matt, huh?" He stepped a little too close and I could smell his sexy aftershave and see that devilish look in his eye. "Such a shame. We could've had fun."
I shivered a bit, but all I said was, "Doubt it. I'm a real buzzkill you know. Frigid even."
"Mmm. I could fix that." He reached out to touch my arm, but I stepped around him, Fancy scrambling to join me.
"No need. But thanks for the offer." I waved goodbye as I moved towards the front door. "Matt?" I called when I reached it.
"Come on in. I'm out back."
I led Fancy into a nice basic living room with well-kept, comfortable-looking couches. The theme of brown continued inside. There were a few framed school photos of Matt and Jack here or there but most of the items on the walls were related to NASCAR.
"You or your dad?" I asked, nodding towards them as Matt took the beer and apple pie I'd brought and put them away in the kitchen.
"My dad. Still haven't figured out what to do with it all. I'm sure someone would pay good money for a few of the pieces he had, but I haven't been motivated to try just yet."
I knew his dad had passed away recently, but we'd never actually talked about it. "How long's he been gone?"
"Six months. Heart attack." Matt crossed his arms and shrugged. "He went fast which was good and bad. He didn't suffer, but he died alone. I was still overseas."
"Were you two close?"
He shook his head. "No. My mom raised us after my parents split. But I was
all he had. Well, me and Jack, but who can rely on Jack?"
He moved towards the back door, Fancy trailing behind him, following the smell and sizzle of burgers on the grill. "How do you like your burgers?"
"Medium-well?"
"Perfect. Coming right up."
I grabbed a paper towel and wiped up Fancy's drool trail while Matt carefully shooed her back inside and away from the grill. A moment later he brought back a plate with two juicy burgers and set it next to all the fixings he already had arranged on the counter.
He'd gone all out. There were buns and ketchup and mayo and mustard and lettuce and tomatoes and onions (ew) and even real cheese slices.
"Impressive. Real plates even," I said.
"Your grandpa taught me well." He reached into the cabinet by the fridge and pulled down a smaller plate. "Almost forgot." He bowed towards Fancy. "Your plate, my dear."
He set the plate on the floor near the table and Fancy settled herself down, waiting for us to hurry up and start feeding her.
As I served myself, I realized how easy it would be to get used to something like this. There are worse ways to spend a summer night than with an attractive man and good food. Of course, Fancy spoiled the moment by tearing out the back door after a squirrel. She barked so loud I wouldn't have been surprised if someone said they could hear it a mile away.
I went to the door. "Fancy. Knock it off."
Matt stepped up beside me and I suddenly found myself very aware of just how close he was. "It's alright. She'll settle in a minute." He stepped past me and onto the porch. "Come on, Fancy girl. Food."
At that most magic of words, Fancy immediately stopped barking and came back inside to join us at the table. I sat down across from him, trying very hard not to think about anything at all. I didn't need this mess. I had…
Things to do? Maybe. Sort of. Kind of.
"Cheers." Matt tapped his beer against mine and I forced myself to return his smile and toast. "Cheers."
A Buried Body and Barkery Bites Page 7
