by Libby Klein
“Why?”
“We’d all grown up but she was still as vain and immature as ever. Frankly, I’m surprised someone didn’t go off the deep end and kill her sooner. No offense.”
“None taken. Do you know anyone who would want to kill Barbie?”
“A lot of people who knew Barb probably wanted to kill her. She ruined lives and broke up marriages. She’d go after your husband just to prove she could get him.” She turned away quickly and wouldn’t look me in the eye.
“Did something happen between Barbie and your husband, Joel?”
Kristen’s nostrils began flaring wildly and her cheeks turned pink and splotchy. She balled her fists at her side. Her belly didn’t seem to be a hindrance all of a sudden, as she lunged at me. “What do you know about that?!” she demanded. “Who have you been talking to?”
I reared back to avoid getting belly punched. “Whoa, relax, okay. That can’t be good for the baby. I haven’t been talking to anyone. I overheard you and your friends talking about how Barbie sleeps around and you said she goes after husbands. I’m just putting two and two together.”
“Well, you’re wrong. Joel and I are perfect. He would never cheat on me. We have a wonderful marriage, and now a precious baby is coming to make our family complete.” She rubbed her belly and waddled back to her seat.
Wow. Okay. Talk about poking the bear! I asked as nonthreateningly as I could, “What did you do after Barbie left your office? I didn’t see you come back into the cafeteria.”
“I was exhausted. I lay down in the exam room and fell asleep. I didn’t even know Barb was dead until Joel came to get me after he gave his statement.”
“So you were alone?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I was alone,” she snapped.
“I’m just trying to establish a timeline.”
She narrowed her eyes at me again. “Look, Amber is very good at what she does. If you’re guilty, she’ll find out.”
I just hope she’s good enough to see that I’m innocent.
I thanked Kristen and left her office. I started taking my visitor’s badge off to return it to security when I heard my name.
“McAllister, what are you doing? You can’t be here!”
Amber was standing in the hall, hands on hips, just outside the front office. And she was far more intimidating in uniform than she was in her green cocktail dress. Joanne was standing next to her looking smug.
“This is an open investigation and you’re a prime suspect. You can’t return to the scene of the crime. Do I have to put you in seclusion?”
I steeled my shoulders and stood my ground. “Since I’m free and there are no court orders in place, I actually think I can go just about anywhere I want, Amber. And I was just asking some questions.”
Amber looked surprised at my bold response. Good. Let her be surprised. This is the new me and she’d better get used to it.
Not put off, she walked over to get in my face. “Questions about what?”
“Questions about what happened when you took Barbie to the nurse’s office with Kristen.” Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have been admitting this to the cop who wanted to pin the murder on me, but Kristen was going to tell her anyway.
“McAllister, have you lost your mind? You weren’t charged last night, but that doesn’t mean you’re in the clear.”
“At this point, no one is,” I replied, staring her down.
“I could haul you back to jail right now for interfering with my investigation.”
“I’m not interfering. I have every right to ask questions. Why do you have it in for me?”
She opened her mouth to bark out another order, but I cut her off.
“I didn’t kill Barbie. I hadn’t even seen her for twenty-five years until last night. With as many people as I hear hated her, don’t you think someone who she’s had recent contact with is far more likely to have done it?”
“Do you think I’m an idiot? What do you think ‘open investigation’ means? We’re still tracking down leads and gathering evidence. But right now it doesn’t look so good for you.”
“Did you know Joanne and Barbie had a fight after you dropped them off at the nurse’s office?”
Joanne had a crazy look in her eye. “That is a lie! Who told you that? Barbie and I were best friends!” She balled up her fist and was preparing to strike, but Amber stepped in.
“Settle down, Jo. I’m not discussing the case with you, McAllister. Now get out of here before I regret not keeping you in that holding cell longer. And I don’t want to see you on the premises again. Is that clear?”
“I was done here anyway.”
With that, I pushed past her and tore off my visitor’s badge. I returned it to the security desk. While I was signing out, though, I read through the list of visitors for that day. Kristen’s husband, Joel, had signed in that morning and signed out just twenty minutes later. I made a mental note to tell Sawyer and Aunt Ginny.
Outside, I realized that I probably just increased the wrath of my enemy. The little bowl of cereal I’d had that morning had worn off long before, and I was starving. What I really wanted more than anything was a cappuccino from a certain little café.
If the café had a dreamboat barista it was entirely coincidental, and I hadn’t noticed.
Chapter 18
I parked around the back in Sawyer’s parking spot. She walked to work, and it was vacant since this was the off-season. During tourist season someone would invariably sneak in there the moment it was free. I checked my hair in the rearview mirror and decided that it was beyond my abilities and needed professional resuscitation. I fixed my makeup and put on some lipstick. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. It’s just good manners to look your best in public. Besides, he might not even be there.
“Buongiorno, bella. I am glad to see you again.”
I could feel the heat rising into my cheeks. Traitorous genetics.
“You were so good the other day, I had to come back for more.” What did I just say? “It was so good—the cappuccino . . .”
He gave me a warm smile. “What can I make for you today?”
I took a deep breath. “A cappuccino, please. A doppio.”
“In Italy we don’t drink cappuccino after ten-thirty. It is just for breakfast.” He was trying to make small talk.
“Well, in America we don’t eat cake for breakfast, so I guess we’re even.” What am I talking about? Why didn’t I just go to Starbucks?
“Ah, so you have been to Italy?” Using a straw, he drew a kitty-cat face in the foam and topped it with a chocolate syrup bow.
“Yes, once. Just Rome, Florence, and Venice. Oh, this is so cute!” I admired the latte art, and he seemed pleased.
“Parla italiano?”
“No, I don’t speak Italian.”
“Are you sure?” he said with a laugh.
“No. Well, I mean I speak that. I just only know a little.”
“Well, maybe one day we will practice together.”
Did I just have a stroke? I feel like I just had a stroke. “I . . . don’t think . . . you need . . . any practice.” I stumbled over the words.
He laughed a hearty laugh and I felt weak in the knees. “You are funny, bella. How was your party? Were you as beautiful as I imagined you would be?”
I accidentally snorted some of the foam up my nose and had to wipe it off. “Umm, it was okay. Until someone was killed and the cops arrested me for the murder.” Well, that will scare him off for good.
He gave me a sideways look. “You are joking, no?”
“I wish I was kidding. I spent the night in jail and they finally let me go because they didn’t have enough evidence to hold me.”
His jaw dropped. He took the apron off from around his waist and placed it on the counter. “Come. Sit. I want to hear about this.” He motioned for me to take a seat in one of the leather chairs and walked over to lock the door and turned the sign around to CLOSED.
&
nbsp; Before I could stop myself, I was singing like a canary on bird crack to this beautiful man and he was listening intently as if I wasn’t a crazed lunatic. I filled him in on the whole reunion debacle, right down to the arrest.
“I feel like my whole life has been an array of bad choices and their consequences. I haven’t been in the driver’s seat. I’ve been tied up in the trunk. I should be home in Waterford right now, but instead I’m stuck here in Cape May trying to clear my name.”
Gia smiled at me and nodded. “I understand, bella. My life, too, has taken a few wrong turns. But each day is another chance to get it right. We don’t give up. Perhaps God has you stuck here so we can help each other.”
I smiled back and our eyes met. I felt a strange tug somewhere in the vicinity of my chest and I forgot to breathe. I felt giddy and ridiculous at the same time. Maybe that foam had gone all the way up to my brain. Then someone was knocking on the front window and the moment was broken. It was Sawyer and she was waving madly at me.
“I will let your friend in so you can talk.” Gia opened the door and gave Sawyer a kiss on each cheek, then retreated to the back room.
“As soon as my customer left I ran right over. Isn’t this coffee shop wonderful?”
“So good. Thank God for espresso.”
“And the owner, Gia, he’s so sweet.”
I felt myself blush. And then a thought occurred to me. Sawyer worked right across the mall from him every day. They’d probably talked hundreds of times. If he was going to be interested in anyone, of course it would be her. I felt like a fool. He was just being friendly.
“What’s the matter? You’re frowning.”
“Nothing. I have to tell you about my visit to the school.”
“Tell me everything. How’d it go?”
But before I could tell her, a customer headed into her shop and she had to run back over.
I gulped down the rest of my coffee, tried to pay for it, but was denied again.
“This one is on the house. You’re having a rough weekend.”
“Are you sure? The last one was on the house too.”
He smiled and shrugged. “I am the boss.”
I thanked him and floated across the mall to wait until Sawyer was free again.
Through the Looking Glass was adorable. Sawyer had invested her life savings plus a small inheritance that her grandfather had left her into buying the shop. The décor was inspired by Alice in Wonderland. The walls were powder blue with swirly quotes from the book painted around the room. The back corner had a children’s area with tiny, overstuffed wing chairs to make the kids feel like they had grown large from the cake that said “eat me.” On one wall she had painted just the eyes, grin, and stripes of the Cheshire Cat. She had a second-story open loft with the words “Down the Rabbit Hole” painted in a spiral on the ceiling. This was where she kept the grown-up books in mystery, science fiction, fantasy, and literature. There were two comfy chairs in the shape of fat seashells in the center of the loft, where you could sit and read and just enjoy the space. Her romance and chick-lit section was at the front of the shop in a pink and red “Queen of Hearts” alcove. One Saturday a month she hosted a tea party and all the books were discounted by ten percent. It was a lovely bookstore.
I went to my favorite area while I waited for her to finish ringing up a purchase of Anna Karenina. In the corner opposite from the children’s books was a section marked by a life-sized Alice painted on the wall with the words CURIOUSER AND CURIOUSER swirled around her head. This was the area dedicated to scratch-and-sniff and pop-up books.
“I knew you would find your way over here.”
“I want to see if you have anything new.” I was spinning the tornado in a Wizard of Oz pop-up book.
“I have a new Winnie-the-Pooh pop-up in the back I’ve been holding for you.” She brought it out and I oohed and aahed over it. From the moment I pulled the tab and Christopher Robin pulled Pooh Bear out of the honey tree where he was stuck, I knew I had to buy it.
We spent the next couple of hours in between customers going over the details of my visit to the school.
“The killer knew how to avoid the cameras.”
Sawyer joined me in the loft on a seashell chair. “It would have to be someone who works there, or at the very least was there often enough to know where the cameras were located.”
“Well, that casts some doubt on Billy and his fiancée. They were from out of town like me.”
“How’d it go with Kristen? Did you learn anything?”
“Apparently, there was a big fight in her office when they got there. Joanne left crying because of something mean Barbie said to her.”
“Do you think Joanne should be a suspect?”
“I doubt it. I think Joanne was the only person who truly liked Barbie. You wouldn’t believe the shrine she was setting up to her where we found the body.”
“Oh, my Lord.”
“Oh, and when I was signing out I noticed that Joel Miller had signed in that morning as a visitor.”
“What do you think that was about?” Sawyer asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. He is Kristen’s husband. Maybe he was just visiting.”
“Why would he be visiting his wife right after she got to work? Wouldn’t he have just seen her at home or called her?”
“You would think.”
“Maybe he wasn’t just visiting. What if he was picking something up, like some evidence to get rid of?”
“He could have been dropping off her lunch or anything else.”
“Well, I think we need to check it out. Given that his wife had a big fight with Barbie the night she was killed, we need to find a way to question him.”
“How do you propose we do that?”
“Maybe we can go to where he works. Let’s see what he does for a living.” Sawyer opened the alumni directory that everyone had received at the reunion.
“You won’t believe this! He’s a plumber. Why don’t we call him to come fix something?”
“Do you have something that needs fixing?” I asked.
“No. Let’s just make something up.”
“No need,” I replied. I knew a place that needed a lot of fixing up.
We called his office and set up a service call for tomorrow morning at Aunt Ginny’s. With all the exterior work being done on the house it seemed the most logical place to have the fake emergency. Then I said good-bye to Sawyer and headed out to my cockamamie holistic doctor’s appointment in Court House, where I was sure to be told I needed my chakras cleaned or some such nonsense.
Chapter 19
I expected incense and New Age music and one of those electric fountains that makes you have to pee, but Dr. Melinda’s office was very modern and bright.
The room was painted creamy yellow with eggplant-colored Barcelona chairs and oak hardwood floors. One wall was dedicated to white built-in bookshelves that hosted a bevy of materials on natural remedies, organic cooking, and holistic medicine. There was a row of dendrobium orchids in pots along a box window and a table hosting Alternative Medicine and Paleo Magazine issues.
I checked in with the receptionist and she gave me a stack of papers to fill out that was thicker than my first mortgage application. When I was done chronicling my life and health history and the contact information of everyone I knew three times, she offered me some green tea. Which I accepted. And then didn’t drink, because it was disgusting. It tasted like someone cooked green beans, then poured the water into a cup and said, brightly, “Drink this, it’s good for you.”
I was irritated that Aunt Ginny had tricked me into coming here. I didn’t have time to have my chi realigned by some swami, I needed to catch a killer. I pulled out my phone and googled “how to kill someone with a hypodermic needle.” Air embolism, poison, chemical warfare, puffer fish venom. There were a lot of scary people on the Internet. I was going to search deeper into “death by bee pollen” when Dr. Melinda came out and introduced herself
.
Against my better judgment, I liked her immediately. I had expected a hippie Earth Mother type, but she was more like a girlfriend you’d love to go shopping with. Long, thick honey-brown hair surrounded a pleasant oval face. Brown eyes smiled at me behind rectangular black-rimmed glasses with hip-looking red flames on the sides. She was wearing a white turtleneck and brown slacks and had on the cutest pair of chocolate brown wedges with four-inch heels.
Her exam room was a total disappointment from my perspective. There wasn’t a crystal pyramid or shrunken head in sight. It was like sitting in a cozy living room. There was a comfy, Rowe Rockford love seat and matching chairs. Instead of anatomical charts there was art on the walls. Except for the exam bed, you would never know you weren’t in someone’s house.
“Look, I’m sorry my aunt put you up to this, but I really don’t have a lot of time for anything too metaphysical.”
She blinked at me. Then laughed like she thought I was joking and gestured to a chair for me to sit down. She radiated calm. Looking over the paperwork I had filled out, she asked, “So why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“Well, let’s see,” I began, “I’m tired all the time and have no energy. But then I also have insomnia. I swell up every time I eat something. Of course, I mostly eat cookies, so . . .” I trailed off.
She took some notes down while nodding. “What’s changed in your life recently?”
“My husband died, I’ve gained sixty pounds, and I was arrested for murder a couple of nights ago at my high school reunion. Oh, and I keep getting this weird eye twitch. What do you think that’s about?”
Dr. Melinda’s pencil lead snapped off and flew into the African violet next to her. Taking a slow breath, she picked up her coffee mug and took a slug from it. “When did the eye twitch start?”
“When I arrived in Cape May for the reunion.”
“How long ago did your husband die?”
“Six months.”
“When did you start gaining weight?”
“Two minutes after I got home from the funeral, I guess.”
“Did you commit the murder?”
