Death of the Couch Potato's Wife: Cozy Christian Mysteries (Women Sleuth, Female Detective Suspense)

by Barritt, Christy

  The door slammed in my face. I stood there, nose to nose with the wood, trying to collect my thoughts.

  Jerry? Had that really been Jerry?

  I might be bored but not enough to make that up.

  I gathered my wits before twisting the knob again. I pushed the door open with purpose this time. Sure enough, the man was still at the sink, washing his face.

  I stared open-mouthed at my neighbor. He stared back at me with the same expression. Jerry looked like he hadn’t slept for days. His comb-over hadn’t been combed over. His pasty skin looked even paler with the dark nubs of hair shadowing his jaw. Bags hung like slings under his eyes.

  I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. “What are you doing here, Jerry Flynn?

  He wiped his face with a paper towel, balled it up, and threw it in the trash with a huff. Water still dripped from his nose.

  “Hello? I could use a little privacy.” He waved his hands around the small room.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re washing your hands.” I scowled. “The police are looking for you.”

  His expression drooped. “I know.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Preservation of life.” He jabbed his finger into his chest. “I’m hiding.”

  “If you’re hiding, that means you’re guilty.” I tried to take a step back but the door stopped me. I may have just trapped myself in the bathroom with a killer. I should have at least brought a defense of some sort—a bat, mace, something! If Jerry was capable of killing Candace, he could kill me, and I’d just given him the perfect opportunity.

  “No, I’m not guilty. But I look like I am. I know I do. I can’t let the police find me. They’ll throw me in the slammer.”

  Which would be exactly where he belonged.

  I reached behind me and gripped the doorknob, just to be safe. “When did you get back in town, Jerry?”

  He shook his head and the drip of water on his nose flew across the room. “I never went out of town. I’ve been here the whole time. I swear.”

  “Listen Jerry, you better start explaining right now, or I’m going to call the cops.”

  “Keep your voice down!” He patted his hands in the air, as if to say, “hush!” His gaze darted around.

  I put a fist to my hip. “Explain.”

  He scowled before letting out a long sigh. “Okay, okay. I didn’t kill my wife. I didn’t. I’m devastated at the news.”

  He didn’t look devastated. No, he just looked tired. He probably was tired of running from the law. But did he look like a grieving husband? No way.

  I squeezed the door handle, just to make sure I had a good grip in case I needed to jet. “You’re supposed to be out of town. That’s what Candace told me. That you were golfing.”

  The little bit of color left on his face drained. “That was just an excuse.”

  “For what?”

  He looked beyond me, as if dreaming of ways to get past me and escape. “For staying here with Yvonne.”

  My mouth gaped open. “With Yvonne? You mean you two really are having an affair? You jerk.”

  He at least had the good sense to look sheepish. He even kicked at something imaginary on the floor. “The good news is that I have an alibi.”

  My hand left the door knob and flew into the air. It didn’t stop until my index finger aimed directly at him. “And the bad news is that you’re scum. You were cheating on Candace, after all that she’s sacrificed for you. How could you? She gave up everything for you.”

  He shrugged and let his head fall to the side, like the slouch that he was. “I know it’s not right. But Candace and I don’t love each other. Yvonne’s different. We’ve got chemistry.”

  I shook my head at his ignorance. “I’m going to have to call the police, Jerry. They’re looking for you.”

  He stepped toward me and I raised my hand in the universal sign for stop.

  He paused. “Please don’t do it, Laura. I don’t want to take the blame for this.” His voice trembled. And for a moment—just a small, tiny mark of time—I felt sorry for him.

  I wasn’t a human lie detector. I didn’t know if he killed his wife or not. But this might be my only chance to question him. “I think you care more about your reputation than you do your dead wife.”

  He shook his head with enough force that I felt a breeze. “It’s not true. I hate to think about what happened to Candace. She didn’t deserve it. She was a good woman. She put up with me, didn’t she?”

  Of course he would say that. Candace had supported him from the very beginning, all while he messed around and wasted their money. Why would he want her dead? An insurance policy maybe?

  I stared at Jerry, trying to look tougher than I felt. “Any idea who might have done this?”

  He looked side to side, as if anyone were close enough to be listening. “Since you asked—Harry McCoy.”

  I jerked my head back. “Why would you think Harry’s guilty?”

  “I made him mad a couple of weeks ago. He bought a couch from me, but then found a better deal on another one in Indy. He tried to return it, but I wouldn’t let him.”

  “Why not?”

  Jerry shrugged adamantly. “He’d sat on it.”

  “As do most people when they have couches.”

  “Anyway, the piece was used goods. Harry got ticked. Threatened me. I bet he went into my house and poisoned those pork rinds, thinking I would eat them. I don’t think Candace was supposed to die at all.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. As someone once said, “oh, what a tangled web we weave.” Jerry had woven a doozy.

  “You’re sure it was Jerry?” Romeo began his shirt-tucking ritual again. I’d seen him more over the past few days than I had my own husband.

  I’d rather see my husband.

  “I’m positive. I spoke to him. There’s not a large margin for error here.” I leaned back on the watermelon couch, suddenly exhausted from all the excitement.

  The chief shifted and pulled out his paper and pen. He handed it to Maloney. “Tell me what happened again.”

  I repeated the story. Again. Chief Romeo nodded, grunted and glanced at Officer Maloney to make sure he was taking notes. Then he looked back at me. “So what happened after he accused Harry?”

  I rolled my neck, trying to work out the kinks. “I told Jerry that I was going to call the police, that I had no other choice. As soon as I said that, he pushed past me and ran. I came out of the bathroom in time to see him darting through the warehouse.”

  Chief Romeo cleaned the front of his teeth with his tongue, in typical Chief Romeo fashion. Thankfully he didn’t have any green eggs and ham between them today. “Any idea where he was going?”

  I shrugged. “My best guess would be away from you or anyone else who might want to put him behind bars.”

  Yvonne scowled from the couch across from me. She hadn’t been happy that I’d let the cat out of the bag about her affair—or about Jerry’s whereabouts. She snarled. “I should have never left you alone.”

  “It’s not my fault Jerry was in the bathroom. I didn’t go looking for him.” I raised my hands to show my innocence.

  Romeo glanced at Yvonne. “We’re going to need to take you to the station for questioning.”

  Yvonne scowled again.

  Chief Romeo turned back to me. “If you remember anything else, please let us know.” He reached into his pocket, but paused. “I was going to give you my card, but I’m guessing you probably have my number on speed dial by now.”

  “Ha ha.”

  His smile slipped. “If you think of anything at all—”

  I nodded. If I had a nickel for every time I heard that line, I’d be rich.

  I stopped by the pharmacy on my way home. Jasmine smiled at me from the front counter. “Hi, Laura, how are you?”

  I nodded. I really had no reason to dislike the woman except that she was good-looking and worked with my husband, which seemed awfully insecure. She always seeme
d perky, and Kent said she was a hard worker. Plus she had no family in the area and apparently had a difficult past. I really should reach out to her more.

  “I’m fine, Jasmine. Where’s Kent?” I glanced behind her, searching for his figure.

  “He had to run a quick errand.”

  I frowned. “An errand?” As busy as Kent always said he was, it seemed strange he’d be leaving at this time of the day. “Did he say where?”

  “Same place he goes every Friday at this time.”

  I waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, I nodded. “Which is?”

  She shrugged and carefully placed a label on a prescription bottle. “I have no idea. He always leaves on Fridays at one and returns by two.”

  I blinked. “Say that again.”

  “He has some kind of standing appointment every Friday. He doesn’t say where.” She shrugged and continued working.

  How could I not know this? Why would Kent be keeping secrets from me? I felt the wall between us getting higher and thicker. I forced a smile. “Thanks, Jasmine.”

  Anger, accusations, and hurt continued to build with every turn of my car tires as I drove home. An insanely jealous part of me wanted to drive around town, searching for his car to discover his whereabouts. My logical side concluded that Kent would have a reasonable explanation, that there was nothing to get worried about.

  But if there was nothing to get worried about, why was Kent keeping things from me?

  But he hadn’t been the only one keeping secrets. I had one too. Why did I keep it from Kent? Because there was something to be worried about.

  As I pulled into the neighborhood, a group of kids on their bikes created a roadblock as they congregated in the middle of the street. I honked my horn when they didn’t move. Couldn’t they just be normal and stay inside playing video games?

  I gasped at the thought. What was wrong with me? I sounded like Hillary.

  I made a mental note that I didn’t need to be around her as much, for the simple reason that her self-righteous bossiness might rub off on me.

  My shoulders slumped as I pulled into my driveway. I couldn’t possibly wait until Kent got home to find out where he’d been. I slouched on the couch and chewed my nails, something I hadn’t done since high school. Well, that wasn’t true. I had chewed my nails some after “the incident.” I thought that, by moving here, I’d forget about it. Yet, it always came to mind at the worst times.

  Before I delved too deeply into the memories and hurts, the doorbell rang. Probably Babe again. I welcomed the interruption from my thoughts.

  I jerked the door open and saw Tiara standing there with a letter in her hand. “This was in my mailbox.”

  I held my breath. Another threatening note? Could my day get any worse?

  I took the envelope from her and let out the breath I held. Just the water bill. “Thanks, Tiara.”

  “No problem.” She made no effort to move. “I heard you saw Jerry.” Tiara looked at me with wide eyes, just begging for a dose of juicy gossip.

  I’d take whatever interruption I could get, though I did vow to keep my words in check. Gossiping would only make me feel guilty, which would further push me on my downward spiral. I stepped back and extended my arm. “Come on in. Let me get us coffee.”

  Coffee always made everything better. I’d never thought so until I moved to Boring.

  A few minutes later, I set a mug on the table for her. She sat pertly on the couch with her legs crossed, smiling with her oh- so-white teeth. “So, did Jerry do it?”

  I swallowed quickly, trying to appear casual and cool. The hot liquid burned going down my throat, and I sputtered for a moment. So much for appearing cool. “I ran into him at his store.”

  “And?” She leaned forward and nodded.

  I shrugged and gripped my coffee mug. “He says he’s not guilty.” I wanted to include the fact that Jerry was having an affair, but I didn’t. It wasn’t my place—although I really wanted to share.

  Tiara leaned closer. “I heard the police haven’t found him yet, that he disappeared again.”

  I nodded. “That’s the rumor.”

  “Do you think he did it?”

  I shrugged. “It’s hard to say.” Jerry claimed Harry murdered Candace. I couldn’t share that fact either. This gossip thing was really tempting. I sipped my drink to keep my mouth busy and silent.

  “Well, I’m just glad you’re okay.” Tiara patted my knee before picking up her cream-laced coffee again. “You just never know about people these days.”

  I should take this opportunity to ask her about Donna, to find out what was stressing out Mrs. Prim and Proper. I needed to start shortening my list of suspects. The words were on the tip of my tongue when my doorbell rang again. What was up with people stopping by all the time? Was this typical for small-town America?

  I opened the door and saw Donna there, cookies in hand. “I saw Tiara stop by. You guys can’t have a pow-wow without me!” She laughed, though the high-pitch chuckle made her seem nervous. I wondered what Donna had to be nervous about?

  “Come on in.”

  She shoved the cookies into my hands as she joined Tiara on the couch.

  I poured her a mug of coffee and heard Tiara filling her in while I did so.

  “That’s just awful, Laura,” Donna said, sitting with her legs crossed at the ankles and hands folded over her knees. I wondered if she’d ever done any beauty pageants. She seemed the type.

  I set her coffee on the table. “I know. It is awful. I can’t believe all of this has happened in our neighborhood.”

  Tiara shook her head. “I hope they catch that no-good loser.”

  I cleared my throat. Though I didn’t want to do it, I knew I needed to change the subject. “So, what’s new with you two?”

  They both shrugged, as if the subject change disappointed them. Silence reigned for a moment, as if any other topic of conversation left them mystified.

  “We’re getting new carpet,” Tiara offered.

  “Matthew got first place in the spelling bee at school,” Donna said.

  We went through our usual chitchat about clothes and TV shows and happenings about town. When silence fell, Donna turned an inquisitive gaze on me.

  “So, how do you like your new role as a housewife? It’s a big change from having a nine-to-five job, isn’t it?” She sipped her drink, peering at me as she waited for my response.

  “It sure is.” That was my understatement of the year. I’d give anything to be working as publicist for J.W. and Associates again. All those designer clothes I used to wear to work were just going to waste. Not to mention all my time.

  “Is Kent enjoying his new job?” Donna blinked and waited for my answer.

  Enjoying the job more than me. “Yes, he seems to be.”

  “I wish my husband enjoyed his job.” Tiara tapped her extra- long manicured fingernails on the arms of the chair. “All he ever does is complain. And then he’s so tired when he gets home. He just wants to watch TV and veg out. I remember the days when we’d go out on the town, when we’d sit beside each other on the couch and snuggle. Now we each have our own chairs.”

  “It’s happens to every good marriage,” Donna said matter- of-factly.

  “It sure does,” Tiara agreed.

  I leaned forward, nearly holding my breath with anticipation. “What does? What happens to every good marriage?” What did they know that I didn’t?

  “Every good marriage grows stale,” Tiara said. “It’s just a part of life. We’re in the winter stage.”

  “But you’re only in your thirties!”

  “It’s not a matter of age, sweetie. It just happens after the newness wears off. Habit and routine sets in. Priorities change. Kids come along.” She shrugged nonchalantly, as if she’d just announced a menu selection. “It’s just life.”

  “But spring always comes after the winter, right?” I couldn’t believe that my marriage was doomed to be like this for good. This had
to be just a phase.

  Donna and Tiara looked at each other for a split-second. Then Donna shrugged again. “Sometimes. You think it’s bad now, you just wait until you have kids. He stops seeing you as a woman and starts seeing you as a mom.” She sighed ever-so- briefly, and I thought for sure she wasn’t as laid-back about this conversation as she tried to appear. “But, like Tiara said, it’s just life. You’ve got to roll with it.”

  Maybe we shouldn’t have kids, then. My mind raced with a million thoughts, all of them near panic-stricken.

  “Oh, Tiara. We’re scaring the poor girl. She obviously thinks marriage is much better than it is.” Donna laughed, but it sounded brittle. Then she sighed. “So, has anyone heard when Candace’s funeral will be?”

  I was grateful for the subject change, even if it meant going back to the topic of murder. “It’s Monday, I heard.”

  “Who’s organized it? I mean, with Jerry being MIA and all?” Tiara asked.

  “The community church did. I guess Candace was an only child, and both of her parents are deceased. With Jerry out of the picture, the church stepped up.” Someone had called me today and asked if I could make a casserole for the reception afterward. I said yes, of course. Now I had to figure out what I could make that would edible for that many people. The last thing we needed was another murder in town, this one thanks to my cooking.

  Tiara glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to run, ladies. My spinning class starts in thirty.”

  I leaned forward, my interest sparked. “Where do you take spinning?”

  “Over at the gym. If you want to call it a gym. It’s really just two rooms—one with weights, and one for the occasional exercise class. There’s usually hardly anyone in there. Aside from Harry. Harry’s always there.”

  Harry? Suddenly, I felt energy return to me. “I’ve been wanting to try out spinning.”

  Tiara waved her hand in the air, beckoning me to follow.

  “You should come then. The first class is free.”

  Chapter 13

  The gym in Boring was really just an old gas station that had several weight machines and a treadmill. I’d never done a spinning class before, but I had seen it done on TV. How hard could it be?