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

by Barritt, Christy

  “I wonder why he wanted to open a couch store, of all things.”

  “He certainly knew all about couches—that’s where he spent most of his time.” Tiara laughed and I found myself giggling, too. I knew I shouldn’t. But what she said was true: If anyone knew about couches, it was Jerry.

  “I guess the store never really took off?” Kent asked, wiping his mouth. I raised my eyebrows, surprised he had any interest.

  “The store probably could have done okay, but the right leadership just wasn’t in place,” Darius said. “Candace tried to manage the business side of things, but Jerry just kept spending money on those stupid commercials. He wanted his fifteen minutes of fame.”

  I remembered his commercials and winced. I sure wouldn’t want to be known as the man who wore tights and a cape. But that was just me.

  Darius shrugged, and speared a piece of pasta. “Who knows? Maybe he did kill Candace. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  Chapter 16

  A couple of hours later, we all relaxed on the deck with ice cream sundaes. The sun crept toward the horizon, and the unusually warm weather was a welcome relief from the frigid days we’d had lately.

  One thing I did like about Boring was this deck. I liked the view of the lake and the sounds of the geese honking. I even liked being able to catch a glimpse of the luscious green golf course in the distance.

  I never had this in Chicago. I had a balcony overlooking an alley instead.

  “Toby! Get back here. Jack, those geese will bite you!”

  Tiara abandoned her ice cream to chase her three-year-old twins. As she grabbed them both in a hug, Darius leaned close to us. “I could just look at her all day. She’s even more beautiful now than on the day we met.”

  I looked over at Tiara. She was beautiful, no one could deny that. And when I looked at Darius looking at her, my heart lurched. Kent used to look at me that way.

  And I used to not feel sorry for myself like I had lately.

  Still, I couldn’t help but think that other couples had something that Kent and I didn’t. Or something that Kent and I had lost.

  I glanced at Kent. He and Darius were already talking about the Bears.

  My heart sagged even further.

  I looked at the sky. Lord, can’t I be successful in at least one area of my life? You stripped me of my career and ambitions. Now I’m feeling like a failure in my marriage. And even something simple like investigating a murder—okay, maybe it’s not really that simple, but it still leaves me coming up short. I just need a small touch of hope, a sign that things will get better.

  “Are you okay?” Kent whispered. I looked over and saw both men staring at me.

  I nodded. “Just looking for rainbows.”

  That evening, I asked Babe if she’d like to take a walk. Maybe talking with my friend would help clear my mind. Everything seemed out of focus lately: my marriage, my relationship with God, my relationships in general. I knew from the uneasiness in my gut that I needed to change something in my life. I just wasn’t sure what.

  The sun had already set when Babe and I began strolling the neighborhood. The whole subdivision was lined with sidewalks, which made it ideal for long jaunts. Some of the houses circled the lake and others were flush up against the golf course. There were no noisy sounds of highways or construction or people partying too late.

  Maybe I was beginning to like it here in Boring after all. I didn’t miss those old aspects of my life in the least.

  I kicked a rock out of my way on the sidewalk, in no hurry to get anywhere. I tried to think of small talk to start with, before jumping into the deeper issues. Babe must have sensed my anxiety because, for once, she remained quiet. She almost had a faraway look in her eyes.

  “Are the police going to let Jerry come to the funeral tomorrow?” I asked, still chasing the rock with my foot as it scampered ahead of me.

  “That’s what I heard through the neighborhood scuttlebutt. The five-Os don’t have enough evidence to charge him.”

  “Five-Os?”

  “You know, the PoPo.”

  “PoPo?”

  “The police, Laura. The police. Get with it.” She snapped her fingers.

  “Not enough evidence? He lied. He had an affair. That seems like enough evidence to me!”

  “Lying doesn’t make you a killer. No, they need proof. Real, hard proof.” She rubbed her arms.

  “Are you too cold? The temperature’s probably dropped fifteen degrees since earlier.” I had to remind myself that Babe was in her seventies. Though she had the spirit of a teenager, her body was frailer than she let on.

  “I’ll be fine. The fresh air is good for me.”

  “Fresh air is nice.”

  “Didn’t get much of this in Chicago, did you?”

  I laughed, and found a new rock to abuse. “No, I will give Boring, Indiana, that. Everything just feels cleaner here.”

  Silence lagged, and the second rock somehow escaped me.

  This would be the perfect time to tell Babe about the note. Out here, there were no listening ears. Even though I initially feared that Babe talked too much, I’d come to realize that I could trust Babe when it came down to important issues like this.

  “I need to tell you something, Babe. But you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

  She gave me a quick glance before nodding. “Of course.”

  I checked behind me, just to make sure we were alone. The bright headlights of a souped-up golf cart glared at us from the distance. No doubt just some of the neighbors out being social. It wasn’t unusual to see people cruising around the neighborhood in their golf carts. I assumed that was just something people in small towns did for fun.

  I drew in a deep breath. “Somebody’s threatening me, Babe.”

  I explained about the note.

  Babe stopped in her tracks there on the sidewalk. “You haven’t told Kent yet?”

  I shook my head. “How can I? They said they’ll kill him if I do.”

  “How will they know?”

  “Because someone bugged my house!” Saying it out loud made me feel delusional.

  “What are you talking about? Do you think we’re a bunch of spies around here?”

  “I’m serious. Someone bugged my house. They recorded a conversation between Kent and me and played it back to me over the phone.”

  “That’s terrible. And invasive. You have to tell Kent.” She grabbed my arm. “No wonder you feel distant from him lately, Laura. Secrets can divide couples.”

  Our troubles went deeper than that. We’d been divided before I got that letter.

  Should I plunge deeper with Babe? Why not? I needed to get some things off my chest. “It’s not only that, Babe. He’s been going somewhere every Friday afternoon while at work. I found out by accident.”

  We began walking again. The golf cart still puttered behind us. I wished the driver would just go ahead and pass. Instead, he rambled on the sidewalk at a leisurely pace.

  “Woman, you’ve got to ask him about it. No wonder you look so miserable.”

  My heart panged. “What if I don’t like his answer?”

  “What if it clears up this whole mess? What if there’s a logical explanation, and you’re fretting about it for no reason?”

  “I don’t want to face reality if that’s not the case, though.” It may be pathetic, but it was the truth.

  “Laura, you’ve got to talk to him. For the sake of your marriage.”

  “I hate this, Babe. I hate what’s happened to my marriage. Kent and I used to be so close, so in love. Now we’re—we’re just like friends.”

  “Marriage has its phases. Every marriage does.”

  “Even yours did?”

  “Of course. You just have to remember the happy times. Dwell on those.”

  Kent and I did have happy times. Really happy times when I thought I might burst with the joy of finding my soul mate. What had time done to our relationship?

  The golf cart wa
s right behind us now, trolling along at a snail’s pace. Its lights were so bright that I couldn’t even see who was driving. I stepped onto the grass to let it pass. Babe followed my lead.

  “You should tell the police about the note too. Maybe there’s a fingerprint on it.”

  Babe was right. I should give the letter to the police. I wasn’t sure why my stubbornness stopped me.

  “Who in the world is driving that golf cart? Why doesn’t it just pass us?” Babe turned and shielded her eyes from the blinding headlights.

  The golf cart suddenly sped up. It was about time. I waited for it to zoom past. Instead, it veered from the sidewalk.

  Right toward Babe and me.

  Chapter 17

  “I guess this clears Jerry,” I mumbled to Babe. Jerry had been at the police station handing over his financial information when the runaway golf cart came at us.

  I rubbed my elbow, which was still sore from my tumble onto the grass. At least I didn’t have tire marks across my skin. I’d come close—too close.

  Babe and I sat across from Chief Romeo at the police station. We’d hobbled halfway back to my house after the golf cart sped away. Then Harry had pulled up and offered us a ride home. Kent had bandaged us and brought us straight here.

  Right now, Kent waited in the lobby, pacing the last I’d seen him. Totally clueless about what had happened. I felt certain that Kent thought the incident was an accident, maybe someone with dementia who hadn’t seen us walking. Kent wasn’t the type to suspect foul play. He always thought the best about people.

  I wished I could do the same.

  Neither Babe nor I had gotten a good look at the driver of the golf cart. Its lights were too bright and, after unsuccessfully trying to run us over, it sped away so fast the person was just a blur.

  Thankfully, neither of us was hurt.

  “How do the two of you keep finding yourselves in the middle of this?”

  “Good question.” I nodded. “I have no idea.”

  “Maybe we’re trouble magnets.” Babe sounded a little too gleeful about that.

  Chief Romeo sighed. “Well, I suggest you stay out of trouble. Whoever this killer is, he or she shouldn’t be messed with.”

  I shifted in my seat. “Respectfully, sir, trouble always seems to find us, not the other way around.”

  “Is there anything else you two want to tell me?”

  Babe looked at me and nodded. I sighed and spilled everything…well, almost everything.

  “Candace was threatening to tell everyone that Donna has a criminal past. Donna is thinking about running against Hillary as president of the Homeowners’ Association, and Donna thought the information would ruin her chances.”

  “Did Candace and Donna not get along?”

  I looked at Babe. “You would know better than me.”

  “She, Tiara and Donna all used to be best friends. Only in the past month or so had they started to grow apart.”

  The chief leaned closer to me, his gaze intense. “Do you think Donna would kill Candace in order to save her reputation?”

  “I suppose stranger things have happened.” An invisible weight pressed on my chest, and I shrugged. “I’ll leave you to find that answer, I guess.”

  The chief asked a few more questions before dismissing us with that same worn-out charge to contact him if we thought of anything else.

  Kent greeted me with a hug when I stepped into the lobby. “You okay?”

  I nodded. “I just want to go home.”

  I’d fallen asleep soon after getting home, maybe just to avoid talking to Kent or maybe out of exhaustion. I wasn’t sure.

  But the next morning, when Kent kissed me as he left for work, I felt instantly alert. I jerked myself to a sitting position in bed. When I saw Kent walking out of the bedroom door, I quickly grabbed my robe and threw it around me before following him.

  “What about Candace’s funeral?”

  “I wish I could make it, but I don’t have anyone to manage the pharmacy.”

  “Can’t you miss just a few hours of work?” I stared at him in his suit and tie, looking very trim and handsome. And I wanted him with me. Not filling prescriptions. I needed him by my side.

  “Laura, we knew this transition would be tough when we moved here. I can’t afford to take time off. Not yet.” He stepped closer and swiped a hair behind my ear. “You understand, don’t you?”

  I wanted to pout and whine and throw a little temper tantrum. Instead, I said, “I hate going to funerals alone.” Okay, it was still pouty and whiny but measured all the same.

  “All your friends from the neighborhood will be there. You won’t be alone.”

  Except they would all be with their husbands.

  “I’ll make it up to you, honey. We’ll go out to dinner tonight, okay? We’ll go wherever you want.”

  I raised my chin slightly. “Somewhere in the city?”

  “Anywhere.” He smiled and kissed me before glancing at his watch. “I’ve got to run. I’ll see you tonight.”

  I nodded as he walked out the door. Tonight would be the perfect time to tell him about the note. We’d be out of the house, relaxed and alone. I made up my mind. Tonight was the night.

  I stepped back and leaned against the wall, trying to clear my head. What happened to Mrs. Independent? I’d always prided myself on being strong and not needing a man while I was in college. Then I met Kent, fell in love, and realized how silly I’d been. Yet even in my marriage I’d fought to be strong, to make my own money, to not be too needy.

  And now I was crumbling.

  I shook off my self-pity and got dressed. Then I grabbed the casserole I’d prepared yesterday morning—a chicken cacciatore pasta bake. It looked pretty tasty, so hopefully the dish would be. I bundled up in a wool coat and threw my purse over my shoulder to leave.

  Outside, the sun shone bright and the sky stretched blue and clear, yet a frosty wind zipped through the air. I braced myself and hurried down the sidewalk to my car.

  A few minutes later, I pulled up at Boring Community Church.

  I walked into the kitchen amidst a flurry of white hair. What was I supposed to do with this casserole? I’d never been asked before to cook something for a funeral, so this was a first for me.

  “I didn’t know you were bringing something, chickaroonie.”

  Thank goodness for Babe. She took the dish from my hands and ushered me to a table in the fellowship hall, which was bustling with activity.

  “Where’s Kent?” Babe called over her shoulder.

  I fought a frown. “He had to work.”

  “Bummer. You mind if I sit with you instead? I promise not to play my Nintendo DS. That Brain Age game is really addicting. It keeps telling me I have the mind of an 18-year-old.”

  “I’d love the company.” Good old Babe. Thank you, Lord. She’s my saving grace. Well, You are. But Babe’s Your angel.

  “Just let me drop off your dish. It looks off the hook.”

  I smiled. “Totally.”

  She joined me a few minutes later, and we strode down the hallway toward the sanctuary. My gut churned, and I felt like I might vomit. Funerals had always had this effect on me, ever since I had to attend my grandmother’s when I was 12. My hands trembled around the strap of my purse as we entered the sanctuary.

  I still couldn’t believe Candace was dead, murdered at that. Each morning, it seemed like I should wake up and discover the whole scenario to be merely a nightmare. Even with everything that had happened, Candace’s untimely death still seemed like a B-grade horror movie.

  I stared at the casket at the front of the room. Babe stepped toward it, but I stopped and shook my head. I never could deal with viewings at funerals. I held back and watched dear Babe, dressed in a black dress and wearing a hot pink scarf across her hair, peer into the coffin and shake her head, as if the death was a shame.

  And it was a shame. I’d learned to stop questioning God about why some people’s lives were snatched a
way early, before their time. I knew I’d never understand it. I understood that I’d never understand.

  Babe came back and took my hand. She led me to a seat, midway in the sanctuary. As we sat, she patted my hand.

  “Candace may not have been well-liked, but she didn’t deserve this.”

  I glanced at Babe. “I couldn’t agree more. The person who did this needs to be put behind bars.”

  “Very true, but this isn’t the time to speak about it. This is the time to honor a friend.”

  I couldn’t think of any better way to honor her than to find her killer, but I kept my thoughts to myself.

  As the funeral began, I spotted Jerry on the front row. His face looked ashen, and his cheeks sunken. Being questioned for your wife’s death could do that to a person.

  I did know that the same person who killed Candace was trying to kill me. And since Jerry was at the police station last night, he wasn’t the one who tried to run me over. Maybe the man had no scruples, but he wasn’t a killer.

  Who did I know who owned a golf cart? It would be easier to narrow it down by listing everyone I knew who didn’t own one. It seemed like almost everyone in the community had the things. Most of the men golfed on evenings and weekends. Even the preacher owned a cart.

  I fought a sigh. I just couldn’t stop trying to figure out who-done-it.

  The preacher began the eulogy. I tried to listen, but my eyes scanned the full church. I spotted Donna and Tiara with their husbands on the other side of the room. They used tissues to dab their eyes. Could one of them have done it? Donna certainly had motive—a weak motive, but still a motive—and the evidence seemed to be stacking up against her. But—I came back to this time and time again—I couldn’t see her killing someone. A few rows in front of me sat Harry, and a few rows in front of him was Chief Romeo.

  Most of the town appeared to be here; the crowd even flowed into the foyer. Everyone—except Kent—seemed to want to pay their respects, even if Candace hadn’t been well-liked. Babe told me that was just the way things worked in a small town.