Deadly Dirty Martinis

by Nicole Leiren

  Before my thoughts could jump to any conclusions, I moved closer to Tan and slipped my arm around his waist. The temptation to let my arm slip a little lower proved a powerful force, but thankfully my mind maintained its course to remain on my investigation. "Tan?"

  "Mmhmm."

  "What kind of jeans are you wearing?"

  The testosterone oozed from every pore of his being. "Like those, do you? Don't think I didn't feel your stare."

  His comment forced some levity into my brain. "That's not a thing, but you're right. I was staring. Know what I noticed?"

  He stopped at the car and turned to face me, his arms circling my waist. "That you like what you see?"

  This time I chuckled. "Easy. You know I'm a fan of that buff bod of yours, but I'm trying to be serious for two seconds. Work with me."

  His lips honed in on mine, permitting me to forget all about jeans, paint, and smudges for a few moments. When he released me from his magical spell, he smiled. "I've been wanting to do that since the first time I caught you looking at my butt. Now that we've tamed the beast, what about my jeans has piqued your curiosity?"

  "Let's get in the car, and I'll show you." Once we were inside, I asked him to turn on the dome light to make it easier to see. A swipe or two later, I had the photo I took of the shed the afternoon Donny Z was killed. I pointed to the smudges. "Those indentations in the paint resemble the artwork on the back pocket of your jeans."

  Tan used his thumb and forefinger to enlarge the picture. "It sure does. I only have one or two pairs left, but I sometimes wear them for a special occasion."

  "Are they a popular brand?" I was almost afraid to hear the answer but had to ask. My "popular" radar had been way off about the neon green shoes, so I had to be honest and admit I had no idea when it came to jeans.

  He turned the dome light off and started the car. "I guess. I bought them at a department store, so they're not that hard to get. They're a brand called Rugged. The symbol is supposed to be two snow-capped mountains." He chuckled. "Guess they're trying to send a message that men in their jeans can handle the mountain or something." He paused and turned serious. "What you need is to find the jeans with the paint and, of course, the owner of said jeans."

  I laid my head on the back of the seat. "I know. I'm just mildly excited that I made a connection. So far, I've had a big lot of nothing." Except the kill order on Abe, but that wasn't date discussion material.

  Tan took my hand and squeezed. "Not to be a Negative Nelly or anything, but you do know that even Abe might have a pair of those jeans and bumped into the paint when he was working around the shed."

  "I doubt it. Abe and I spoke about the progress on the shed earlier. He mentioned discovering the smudge when he was deciding where to start next."

  It wasn't hard to see Tan's smile. Seriously, whitest teeth ever. "That doesn't necessarily mean he didn't make it."

  The man had a point, but I still wanted to believe it was the killer leaving us some evidence. "It's a possibility, I suppose. I'm still going with killer leaving a clue." I shot him a quick look. "Just to clarify, Abe is not on my suspect list."

  We rode the rest of the way in silence, though I didn't give up my grip on his hand. I thought of my mother, Abe, and maybe even a little bit about Brock.

  At some point, Tan nudged me. "Hey, Lilly. We're here. You sure you're up for movie night with my family? You've had a long day."

  "I'm sure. I've kept you away from them too much lately. When you do take me home, though, I need to stop by the Bed & Breakfast. Bree called earlier and asked me to come by after dark."

  "That sounds strange."

  I nodded. "Very cryptic, but she asked, so I told her I would."

  "No problem." We got out of the car and grabbed the food. Tan unlocked the front door. "Mom? Ashley? Lilly and I are here, and we have food. Thought we could eat together and watch a movie from On Demand." He turned to me. "Feel free to kick your shoes off and put them over there. I can see if Ashley has some comfy clothes for you to change into if you'd be more comfortable. Though I love you in that dress."

  I didn't mind staying in the dress, but the shoes had to go. I kicked them off and went to move them over by the rest of the family's shoes. My heart skipped a beat or two. There, lined up nice and neat with the others…was a pair of neon green tennis shoes.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The desire to confront Ashley immediately and demand some answers fought mightily inside my heart. In the end, though, I decided to wait. I'd jumped to conclusions about Julie, and look where that got me. No, I would wait and find an opportunity to talk to her before Tan took me home.

  "Oh. Em. Gee. I love the Philly cheesesteak sandwiches from this place. Thanks, big bro."

  Ashley's genuine smile made me glad we'd changed our plans. She was an inch or so taller than me, maybe five six. I'd never met Tan's father. He'd died a few years back, the tragic result of a spider bite. I made a note to ask Tan to show me a picture of him. My curiosity about whether he had the same light blond hair and blue eyes as the rest of the family wanted to be appeased. Though I loved blue eyes, especially on Tan, I liked the fact that my mother's eyes and mine were the same color—another one of those connections that made me feel closer to her.

  "Thank Lilly. This was her idea." Tanner smiled as he handed me my meal.

  "Whatever, thanks." Ashley plopped down on the couch and began devouring her sandwich.

  "Ashley." Mrs. Montgomery fussed at her daughter before turning to me. "It was very sweet. Thank you."

  Though the movie Ashley had chosen wasn't a zombie movie, there were aliens involved. I couldn't complain, as it had been my idea to let her pick. I was trying to keep peace so I went along and pretended to be fascinated with yet another space invader flick. Made me want to find an old Atari and start shooting down the ships. I liked to keep things vintage, so old arcade games were right up my alley.

  My first instinct was to cuddle next to Tanner, try to make the most of the date night, but the daggers Ashley kept flinging my way with those ice blue eyes of hers kept me on my own cushion on the sofa. A person didn't need to be highly perceptive to understand she didn't like me. The question was why. We didn't interact much unless she and her mom came into the tavern to eat. With everything else going on in my life right now, I didn't have the emotional energy to try to figure it out. I'd wait for an opportunity and ask her. Unless I was pranked again. Then all bets were off.

  My phone vibrated with a text from Bree. She wanted me to come sooner rather than later. I leaned over to Tan and whispered in his ear, "Can I borrow the car? Bree needs to see me. I'll be back as soon as I can."

  "Want me to come with you?" His whisper was a bit louder than I would've liked, earning me an exaggerated sigh from his sister.

  The temperature in the room dropped considerably if the proverbial icicles forming on the tip of my nose were any clue. Ashley paused the movie and crossed her arms. "We'll wait while you two finish. Personally, I'd like to actually hear the movie."

  No way was I going to risk a family fight by asking Tanner to go with me. I shook my head. "No need. Finish your food and enjoy the movie. I'll be back before you know it."

  Tan nodded and handed me his keys. "Be careful."

  Despite the hostility in the room, I leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. I'd foregone snuggling, but leaving without even a quick kiss was out of the question. "Sorry," I offered to Ashley and her mom.

  Mrs. Montgomery nodded and smiled while Ashley rolled her eyes. Had to love teenagers.

  Once in the car and headed to the Bed & Breakfast, my head cleared a bit. Maybe Ashley was just being snarky for reasons other than being upset with me. As Gram often reminded, the world didn't revolve around me, no matter how much I'd like it to. Ashley had been hostile to both me and her mother. I sighed. Another puzzle to solve.

  Bree was waiting for me. Normally she was all smiles or at least sarcasm laced with humor. This time her exp
ression was worried. This…worried me. "Hey, Bree, what's going on?"

  "Follow me."

  Now I was officially scared. Her head maintained a swivel as we made our way to the back of the house and over to the left where the garage was located. Despite the fear, I noticed the odor I'd smelled outside the last couple times I was here had diminished. My nose thanked me.

  We stepped inside the garage, and the smell almost knocked me off my feet. All of the odor previously outside must have decided to sneak inside this building and take up residence. "What in helium is that smell?"

  She closed the door behind us, a detail that had both me and my nose very unhappy. We walked to the back of the garage. Bree moved a few boxes and then pulled a trash bag out. The moment the bag opened, the smell assaulted my senses ten times harder than it had before. "I found this in the trash can. The odor out back was driving me crazy. I questioned Uncle Eddie…" Bree smiled. "Though he insisted I was interrogating him. He maintained his innocence."

  Having interacted with her uncle Eddie before, I'm not sure innocent is a word that could be associated with him, though he was normally harmless. "So you went on the hunt. What did you find?" I could smell it but still didn't know what was committing the olfactory offence.

  She lifted a pair of damp jeans out of the bag and positioned them so I could see the back. There, on the pockets, was the odd shape I'd taken the picture of—the same shape on the back of Tan's jeans. It appeared—or maybe I should say smelled—like someone had tried to get the paint out. I remembered Gram getting paint on some clothes one time while we were doing a home improvement project. She'd tried all kinds of home remedies, all of which produced very unpleasant odors. From the look of the beige paint still clinging to the fabric, they hadn't been successful. Not enough to allow them to keep the jeans anyway. "Someone staying here must've thrown them away. Either they didn't realize trash pickup wasn't for a few days or thought the other trash would cover the smell."

  I knew, or at least suspected, the jeans were important in either identifying the killer or a witness to Donny's murder, but since I hadn't mentioned the detail to Bree, I was curious. "Why did you think I would need to see this?"

  Bree's eyebrow arched and she cut me a look. "You underestimate me. I'm disappointed."

  "No underestimation here, just curiosity. Besides…" I grinned. "You must teach me the ways of the force, Obi-Wan."

  She laughed at my analogy and shook her head. "There's no super-secret spy stuff going on here. I bumped into Abe yesterday at Veggie Tables, and he mentioned having to redo part of the shed thanks to some, and I quote, inconsiderate mook who didn't watch where he was going. Add that to Mandi telling me Donny Z's body was found behind the shed. Two plus two equals possible murder suspect, my friend."

  I lifted my arms parallel away from my body and bowed. "You are wise, grasshopper."

  "And you are mixing your movie metaphors."

  "It's all the toxic fumes I'm being forced to inhale every time I come to your place." I couldn't resist the tease. I enjoyed hanging out with Bree. Since her schedule might even be crazier than mine, we didn't get to do that much except when she stopped in to eat or drink at the tavern.

  The smile faded from Bree's face. "What do you think we should do with this?"

  Grabbing hand towels from a box with other car wash supplies, I held the pants up for closer inspection. The towels kept my fingerprints from showing up on a potential piece of evidence. That was one headache I didn't need. Of course, they might also remove fingerprints. I made a calculated guess that fingerprints should be on more than one spot on the jeans, so I should be okay. "They're a brand called Rugged."

  "The student has become the teacher," Bree teased. "How do you know that?"

  "Because I may have spent some time tonight studying Tan's backside. He was wearing a pair of jeans like this."

  "You don't think…" Bree's serious tone made me realize where her train of thought was headed.

  I shook my head. "No, not his." I lowered the jeans down to look inside for a size tag. "These are a thirty-eight. Tan probably wears a thirty, no larger than a thirty-two."

  Bree crossed her arms, a knowing grin emerging on her face. "And how do you happen to know that, Miss Lilly? Been checking out the inside of Mr. Montgomery's pants?"

  My face heated at the implication. "No…I…never…"

  Her laughter escalated the temperature in my body higher than Texas in July. "Relax, it's not your momma asking. I'm not judging even if you had. He's very handsome."

  I inhaled and exhaled slowly to compose myself and rein in my embarrassment. "He is very handsome and maybe someday we will…ya know."

  The eyebrow shot up again. "Yes, I do know."

  I stuck my tongue out. Totally juvenile, I admit, but I needed to distract her and get us back on task. "My point is that it doesn't take intimate carnal knowledge of Tanner to realize these jeans are too big for him."

  "I know."

  "Then why…"

  She shrugged her shoulders. "I like watching you blush. More important than my ruthless teasing, what are we going to do with this piece of evidence?"

  I dropped it back into the bag and closed it again. No need inviting potential brain damage due to toxic fumes. "Any idea who they belong to?"

  "Not a clue. I don't recall seeing any of the guests wearing this brand, but unlike you, I haven't been studying their butts."

  A retort was on the tip of my tongue, but I realized she was just teasing me again. "At least we know they're men's jeans. That narrows the suspect field a little."

  "Could eliminate Liza and your mother."

  As much as I wanted my mother eliminated as a suspect, I couldn't honestly say I felt the same about Liza. "It's possible, yes."

  "They used paint thinner or turpentine, I think, to try to get the paint out. That's what's caused the smell. Well, that along with several days' worth of garbage being enhanced with a turpentine twist. Once I located the source of the smell, I had to dig through to the bottom of the trash bin. I put it in the garbage bag to help contain the offensive odor," Bree offered as an explanation. "My nose may never be the same."

  I grinned at her comment. "Killers do tend to try to cover up their crimes. Burying something that smells at the bottom of something very smelly equals a pretty smart cover-up."

  "Or they could have just been trying to save the jeans. Everybody has their favorite pair they never want to get rid of."

  Seemed like an odd thing for someone capable of murder to do. Since I didn't really have the psyche of a killer (thank God), I couldn't say for sure. "I suppose. Regardless, we need to get these to the police."

  Bree nodded. "Agreed, but…"

  I sighed. "But you can't leave, so I'll have to do it?"

  Her grin returned. "Tell her what she's won, Bob."

  "No television game show quotes allowed—only eighties movies." I hauled the bag over my shoulder like I was Santa on Christmas Eve. "If they ask, I'll have to tell them how this came into my possession. You know they're going to want to speak to you. They will probably be upset we removed it from where you found them, but I'll risk their anger rather than having lights and police cars out here. That will send the killer straight to Canada."

  Her pout was adorable. "Yeah, I know. Will you ask them if I can come down in the morning after breakfast is served to give my statement?"

  "I'll ask, but no promises."

  "Deal."

  Bree left the garage first to make sure the coast was clear. My heart rate steadily increased as I waited for the all-clear signal. It was a reasonable assumption that a guest had been the one to dispose of the jeans. Also plausible that a random person had decided to dump their trash in a place other than where they resided. Not only plausible, but logical and smart. If I were a criminal, that's what I'd do.

  After a small eternity, Bree returned and handed me a small paper bag. "Here, I smuggled some sweets out while I made sure everyone was accounted
for. It might not help with Detective Marshall, but Officer Faria might like them."

  I nodded. I'd have to check what the sweets were. If they were chocolate chip cookies, he might be interested. If not, I'd keep them for myself. This day had been incredibly long, and indulging my sweet teeth (yes, I had more than one) might be just the medicine the doctor ordered to ease the tension headache taking root at the center of my brain.

  The mention of sweets reminded me I needed to drop the scones off to Vernon. Had to keep my informant well-fed and sugared up. "Thanks. Every little bit helps. I need to go. Coast clear?"

  "You're all good."

  With a nod in Bree's direction, I took off for Tan's car. It wasn't very far, just on the other side of the house and to the right a bit, but shadows kept dancing in my peripheral vision, alternatively slowing and hastening my steps. I'd just slid the bag into the trunk and started the car when pounding on the window made me jump. A small scream might've slipped through my lips.

  It was dark enough outside that I couldn't see exactly who was demanding my attention, but the orange glow of a cigarette provided a fairly solid identification—a very angry Liza.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The car was running, so I could've made an escape. I secretly had a death wish, or my curiosity truly was my worst nemesis. Either way, I rolled down the window enough to at least ask the question, "What do you want?"

  "You heading into town?"

  "Why do you want to know?" I managed to ask with a calm I didn't feel.

  I jumped again as Liza's hand smacked against the doorframe of the car. The woman had anger issues, no doubt. As quickly as her anger sparked, it died down again. She leaned her head against the top of the door. "I'm sorry. It's been a day. I want to leave this god-awful place, but no one wants to go until your mother's fate has been decided."

  "When is your next gig?" The more important question: why was I still talking to her?

  Liza returned to a standing position and took a long draw from her cigarette. Thankfully she blew the smoke upward rather than directly into the car. "We're on a break right now. The bus was supposed to head back East, stopping off in Chicago for me. Our next gig isn't until right before Christmas."