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

by Barritt, Christy

  “Harry! What are you doing in here?”

  I took my phone out and dialed the police station. I wasn’t going to confront a killer like some stupid chick from a horror flick. I didn’t have a gun with me, but I had the power of communication. One wrong move, and I’d hit “send”.

  Harry stuck his head out the door, his hands in the air. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

  “Then you’d better start explaining.” I left my finger on the “send” button and pointed the phone at Harry like a weapon.

  “I was just looking for evidence.” He stepped from the store, hands still in the air. He looked to the left and right, probably seeing if anyone was witness to his humiliation.

  “What kind of evidence?” Evidence that he’d been the one to vandalize the building, maybe? I continued to point the phone at him.

  “I’m trying to figure out who did this.”

  “Why don’t you just admit that it was you? You did it, Harry. And you killed Candace. You intended to kill Jerry, but Candace ate those pork rinds.”

  He shook his head with strong, swift movements. “I would have never killed Candace. She was my first love.”

  “And you never forgave Jerry for stealing her from you.” I could guess with the best of them. Now we’d see if I was right.

  “It wasn’t like that. I’m trying to figure out who killed her. I want to solve this case more than you do.”

  “So, why are snooping around on the other side of a police line?”

  He stepped closer and I held up my phone, threatening to push the button. He backed off. “I have to figure out who did this. It’s my only chance of ever making the police force. If I can solve this murder, people will take me seriously. Maybe I can quit being the cable guy for a living.”

  “You really expect me to believe that.”

  “It’s true.”

  “I think you and Steele Bruno plotted all of this together.”

  “Bruno?” He snorted. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because I’ve seen you whispering. I know about what happened between you and Jerry when he sold you that couch. You were mad. And what better way to get even with him than by going in with his competition to put him out of business.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because, it’s not true. Sure, I was mad at Jerry. He was a jerk. He’s been a jerk to a lot of people around here. He’s sold couches that are scratched, lumpy and have springs that stick you every time you sit down. But I didn’t kill his wife.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not convinced.”

  “I may be a hothead and a cheapskate, but I’m no killer.”

  “You can put your hands down. I promise not to zap you with my phone.”

  He lowered his arms and chuckled. “You’re tougher than I thought you’d be.”

  “Someone destroyed my husband’s dreams. I take that seriously.”

  “Then you might want to know what I found in there. Evidence that the police missed.” He reached into his pocket.

  I stepped closer. “What?”

  He held out his hand. It was a pen from Boring National Bank.

  Chapter 23

  The pen could have been left there by someone who’d come in to sign for a prescription. The pen itself didn’t implicate Paul Willis.

  Of course, Paul Willis was already on my short list. I didn’t like the tension between him and Babe. After I’d seen her CD on his desk, he moved up a few spaces.

  Babe. I wondered if she was still mad. I wondered how she would react when I told her we’d probably be moving back to Chicago.

  I really did appreciate her friendship. I knew I’d miss her more than anything if we moved.

  I shuffled down the street. I needed to swing by the bank before it closed. I wanted to get a printout of all the transactions for the association. Hillary hadn’t told me to do it, but I just wanted to take care of all the details. Thankfully, I’d only agreed to take the position for a couple of weeks. I’d get things in order in time for Kent and me to move.

  I needed to start thinking about a real estate agent and where we’d live back in Chicago. I wondered if Kent could get his old job back.

  “Can I help you?” the teller asked. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Paul at his desk. Today, I would avoid him. No need to interact with a possible killer.

  What if that pen had dropped out of his pocket while he was vandalizing the store? Maybe he knew I was suspicious of him and he wanted to get me out of town.

  Wait. If someone wanted to force me out of town, and now I was moving, then I was letting them win.

  I’d have to think about that later.

  I explained to the teller what I needed. She listened and took my fingerprint and then hurried over toward Paul. I inwardly groaned when I saw him heading my way.

  “Mrs. Berry! Didn’t expect to see you in here. How are you holding up? Have they caught whoever did that to the pharmacy?”

  “Not that I know of. I’m sure the police are closing in on the person, though.”

  Paul winked. “You must have a higher respect for our police force than I do, then.”

  “I’m sure they’re quite capable.”

  Paul leaned on the counter toward me. “So, you want a statement with your account balance on it?”

  “And the transactions. I only have the ledger that Candace kept. I’d like to have something to compare it to.”

  “Sounds wise.” He straightened his papers. “We’ll get that for you.” He started to walk away. “Thanks for your business, Mrs. Berry. It’s always good to see you.”

  Could that man really be a killer?

  You know what? I didn’t have to think about it anymore. We could get out of town and leave this whole mess behind us.

  That sounded like the best plan so far.

  A few minutes later, the teller appeared with my statement. I tucked it into my purse and began walking back home. I wondered how Kent was doing. Hopefully he wasn’t too miserable. Maybe he was also finding comfort in the thought of moving away from this place. I hoped he’d eventually see the bright side.

  When I got home, Kent was sleeping. I tiptoed from the room and went into our office. There, I pulled out the ledger that Hillary had given me, the one Candace kept.

  I made copies of both of them, and then placed the copies side by side. I’d check off things as they matched up, just to make sure everything was balanced as it should be.

  Forty minutes later, I was going cross-eyed. None of the numbers made sense. There were extra withdrawals for which I had no records. No wonder Candace’s business was about to go bust. If this is the way she kept books, she was lucky the store had stayed afloat as long as it did.

  What if Candace was stealing money from the association? She was in the perfect position to do just that. What if someone had found out and killed her for it?

  My mind reeled. I couldn’t help but think I was on to something.

  The doorbell rang, and I hurried to answer it before the sound woke up Kent. Tiara was on the other side. Tiara, who had also ordered a case of Magic Wipes. Was there anyone who wasn’t a suspect in my mind?

  Not really. It seemed everyone either had motive or opportunity. What I needed was someone who had both.

  But I wasn’t going to mess with the investigation anymore, I reminded myself. I had other things to think about, things like tying up the loose ends of this new treasurer position and moving.

  “I just heard what happened. How are you doing?” Tiara asked. It didn’t seem right to see her at my door without Donna. In fact, I hadn’t really talked to her since Donna had been accused of Candace’s murder.

  “I’m doing okay. Thanks for asking. Would you like to come in?”

  She settled on the couch. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with this town. I mean, it’s usually so peaceful. Here lately, it just seems like everything is so messed up.”

 
I bit my lip. “How’s Donna? Have you talked to her?”

  “I visited her yesterday. She’s doing about as well as can be expected.” Tiara leaned closer. “She didn’t do it, Laura. I know her. She’s not capable of it.”

  “Do you think someone set her up?”

  Tiara wiped away a tear. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. I think she’s being framed and I’m afraid she’s going to end up taking the fall for this. I just feel so badly for her family. I mean, blended families aren’t easy anyway, but then to have all of this thrown on you—”

  “I’m sure the police will figure things out.” I patted her hand.

  “And now your store. Why would someone do that? I just don’t understand.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know either. Someone thinks I know something about Candace. They’re trying to keep me quiet.”

  “Well, it obviously can’t be Donna, can it? She was behind bars when the pharmacy was ransacked.”

  “That’s true.” Why was the killer still trying to silence me, even when someone else was charged with the crime? What sense did that make? And how did Candace’s position as treasurer of the association tie in with all of this?

  Would I ever know the answers?

  The numbers stayed on my mind into the evening. Kent had finally awakened, but insisted on drinking hot tea and watching TV for awhile. At least that had returned to normal. He definitely wasn’t in the mood to chat.

  I called Chief Romeo for any updates; he said they didn’t have any. They had taken fingerprints, and were questioning several people who may have seen something. He promised to call if they found out anything.

  “Kent, I’m going to run over to the Flynns’ for a minute. I need to see if Candace has any more books she kept for the association.”

  He mumbled, “Okay.” Before I left, I spotted Mr. Sniggles and decided to see if Jerry was ready to have his pet back yet. I gathered the kitty in my arms, and hurried across the street.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Sniggles. I’d let you stay here if I could, but you’re not mine.” I nuzzled him a moment before knocking on Jerry’s door.

  When he answered, I knew he’d been drinking. I could tell by the smell, and by the slur of his words.

  “Hi Jerry. How are you?”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. “What do you want?”

  I held up the cat. “I thought you might want your cat back.”

  He shrugged. “Not really. He was Candy’s.”

  “Maybe he’ll cheer you up.”

  “Nothing can cheer me up. I filed bankruptcy today.”

  “I’m sorry, Jerry.”

  “They’re foreclosing on my home.”

  My heart panged in grief for him. “What can I do for you?”

  “Yvonne even dumped me.”

  The poor guy had it rough. “Can I call someone for you?”

  “There’s no one to call.”

  “Jerry, let me fix you a cup of coffee.” Coffee always seemed to help. Besides, I didn’t know what else I could do.

  He opened the door and allowed me inside.

  The place looked a mess, much worst than it had even when Babe and I discovered Candace. Minus the dead body, of course.

  I rummaged around in his kitchen until I found the coffee and filters. Then I started a pot. He dropped onto the couch and stared vacantly at the TV. I didn’t know what to say. I remembered a friend of mine who was now a counselor about an hour from here. Maybe Jerry would talk to her.

  I set a mug of coffee on the end table, hoping he’d drink a little and sober up. “Can I write down the number of someone who can help you? She’s really great. I think you’d like talking to her.”

  “There’s paper on my desk.” He pointed his head into the front room.

  I could tell he really didn’t care, but I’d write down her number anyway. I went into the formal living room, which doubled as an office. Piles of paper tottered everywhere. I shoved a few aside on his desk and found a notepad.

  Candace’s planner sat in the corner. I heard Jerry mumbling at the TV in the other room. I ignored my conscience and opened the book. I scanned the week before she had died, hoping for a clue.

  She had a lot of store meetings written down, but little else.

  But there, on the day before we found her, was a small notation.

  I squinted to read it. Meet with Paul Willis.

  Funny, Paul never mentioned that. I wondered what they had to meet about. Could it be significant to her demise?

  I quickly jotted down my friend’s phone number for Jerry and ripped the paper from the pad.

  “Here’s my friend’s number. Call her. You’ve got to pull yourself together, Jerry. Throw away your alcohol.” I placed the paper on the coffee table.

  He nodded and took a sip of his drink.

  I slipped outside and returned to my own problems at home.

  “I called my old boss back in Chicago.” Kent sat up on the couch as I walked into the house. “He said my old position is still available if I want it. The person they hired after I left didn’t work out.”

  I sat down beside him. “It’s funny you say that, because out of the blue Megan called today, and she’s starting her own PR firm. She wants to get me on board.”

  “Maybe moving here was a mistake.”

  “Maybe we were supposed to learn something.”

  “Have we learned it?”

  I shrugged. “I suppose we have. I mean, look how everything is falling into place. It’s like we’re supposed to leave. Maybe we won’t know the reason we were brought here anytime soon. But eventually it will all make sense.”

  “Yeah, I guess this was all just a crazy dream. I’m sorry I pulled you into it.”

  “You didn’t pull me into it. I came willingly.”

  “And I love you for trying.” He kissed my forehead.

  Everything would be all right. I felt it, deep in my gut.

  “Kent, about that note—”

  “Let’s just put all of that behind us. Donna is behind bars, and we have to look toward the future. Okay?”

  I nodded and cuddled up in his arms.

  Chapter 24

  Kent and I needed to go to the pharmacy the next day, but first, I slipped out to do a couple of errands. I had loose ends to tie up in anticipation of moving. One of those loose ends was talking to Donna—or, being neighborly, as Babe would say. An officer escorted me to her cell. Seeing her behind bars shook me up. Normally, Donna was so put together. Here, she had no make up. Her hair looked limp and greasy. She wasn’t smiling.

  She stood when she saw me. “Laura. What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to check on you.” I approached the bars, knowing I had to find out why she’d targeted me and bugged my house. I just couldn’t make sense of it. “How are you?”

  She shrugged, her chin trembled, and she burst into tears. “I’ve been better.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Now why did I have to go and ask her that? She’d threatened to kill me!

  “I don’t know what there is to say. My life is falling apart. My stepkids hate me. My real kids hate my stepkids. I never see my husband because he works an hour and a half away, so I’m always the one who’s trying to referee. Plus, there’s this whole issue of being held in jail for a crime I didn’t commit and my prior criminal record being paraded in front of anyone who’s interested.”

  “I’m so sorry.” And, for a moment, I was sorry.

  “Did you hear about the whole criminal history thing?” Donna wiped her eyes again.

  I hated to be honest, but I had to. “I did hear something. But I don’t know any of the details, if that makes it any better.”

  “It was Candace’s fault that word got out about it.” She turned a sharp gaze on me. “But I didn’t kill her.”

  “I didn’t say you did.”

  She ran a hand over her face. “Candace didn’t want me to run for president.”

  “Any i
dea why?”

  “She said Hillary was doing a great job, which was ironic, because usually she talked about how much she hated Hillary. Still, she was determined I wouldn’t dethrone the queen.”

  I shifted the weight on my feet. “Do you mind if I asked what happened?”

  “I went to jail for a few months on battery charges when I was in my early twenties. I got into a fight with my boyfriend’s ex. It wasn’t pretty, and I regretted it. I was charged with a Class B Misdemeanor.”

  “I can’t imagine what going to jail for that long would be like.” I really couldn’t.

  “I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

  My heart twisted for her. I really didn’t think this woman was a killer. But there was something I had to ask her. “Donna, why’d you send me that threatening letter?”

  She blinked. “Letter?”

  “The one you put in my mailbox? Babe saw you.”

  “I didn’t put anything in your mailbox. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I resisted the urge to tap my foot. “Babe saw you, Donna. There’s no need to deny it.”

  “The only thing I ever put in your mailbox was an envelope addressed to you that was accidentally put in my mailbox.”

  I blinked this time. “You mean, that’s why you put the letter in there?”

  Her mouth sagged open. “You thought I’d threatened you?”

  “That’s what seemed to make sense at the time.”

  “I would never do that, Laura. Never.”

  I believed her. I don’t know for certain why I believed her—it was mostly a gut feeling.

  And if she told the truth, that meant there was still a killer out there. The thought pressed heavily on me. “I guess I should have asked you about it earlier. I’m sorry, Donna. You always seem like you have it all together. I should have known you didn’t send that letter.”

  She snorted. “All together? Yeah, well, I’m good at being fake. What can I say?”

  “You don’t have to be fake with me, Donna.”

  She sniffled, and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her shirt. “You’re always so nice, Laura. I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened lately. How have you coped? You always seem so upbeat.”