by Meg Macy
“We’ve dated off and on over the years.”
“When did you first meet her?” I wondered if he’d acknowledge the bed-and-breakfast hot tub romp, although I had my doubts. “Before we got married?”
“I don’t remember.”
“What if I told you I saw photos—”
“Stop badgering him, Sasha,” Mom interrupted. Flynn looked relieved, since his color had gone from pink to scarlet. “Have I told you how much I love seeing those ‘Flynn Wins’ television commercials? They’re so clever.”
“I think they’re great, too. Gina helped me write the script. Really, I don’t know why Mayor Bloom wasn’t happy with the work she did for him. Gina is great. Er, was.”
Mom waved a hand. “If Cal Bloom wouldn’t pay the woman, then maybe she charged him an arm and a leg. He’s notorious for being cheap.”
“She also planned more of a snarky image for the mayor, nothing like his ‘teddy bear’ image.” I turned to my ex. “Did Gina want to get married, Flynn? After all, you bought a big enough house. Maybe Gina expected a ring.”
“We talked about it, but I told her I wasn’t ready to settle.” He shrugged. “She knew that long ago when we—well, I meant she was okay with it.”
Aha. I figured that was as close to a confession as Flynn would get. He looked guilty for that slip of the tongue. “Digger Sykes has been spreading gossip about you and Gina,” I said.
Maddie had overheard that remark on her return to the kitchen. “Digger’s worse than an old woman, I swear! Next we’ll be seeing the headline ‘Lawyer Kills Girlfriend.’”
Flynn’s face turned ashen. “But I didn’t kill Gina—”
Rosie suddenly jumped down from the window seat, barking joyously. Her tail wagged harder at the sharp knock on the side door. Flynn hunched on the kitchen stool, looking sick with worry, or like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. I beckoned Detective Mason inside. He’d changed into a shirt and tie under his jacket and entered the kitchen with an indulgent smile for Rosie’s eager greeting. That vanished when he caught sight of Flynn.
“I figured you might be here, Hanson. Lucky guess.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” Mom folded her arms, sounding snarky. “You don’t strike me as the type of cop to leave anything to chance.”
“It’s Detective, ma’am.” He glanced at me and then pulled his notebook out of a pocket. “But you’re right. I called his colleagues, Mr. Blake and Mr. Branson, who suggested checking here. They thought Mr. Hanson might stop here before his appointment.”
“So you want to question me about Gina,” Flynn said in a surly tone.
“You’ve heard she was killed, then.” Mason glanced at me with a lifted eyebrow. “From what I’ve learned, you and Ms. Lawson had an intimate relationship besides her being a client. Is that correct, Mr. Hanson?”
“I didn’t kill Gina.”
“That’s not what I asked.” He waited and then repeated the question.
“Yes, but we broke up. Months ago.”
Mason interrogated Flynn further, going over when he’d first met Gina, how long they’d been seeing each other, how many times they’d broken up and gotten back together, and why they decided to end it recently. Flynn sounded like a petulant juvenile delinquent, scowling at every query, hesitating before every answer.
“Gina got all mad one day, packed her things, and moved out. That was down in Florida. She moved here, I don’t know when. Once I arrived in Silver Hollow, she asked me to represent her. We spent a few nights together lately, but it wasn’t serious.”
“Where were you Saturday night?” the detective asked.
Flynn gave a flippant shrug. “Out of town.”
“Where exactly, and was anyone with you?” Mason jotted notes while he waited.
“At a cabin,” he finally said, “with a friend.”
“I’m assuming this friend has a name.”
Flynn rubbed his hands together, eyes downcast. My own frustration burst. “For heaven’s sake, tell him,” I said. “Whoever it is can provide you with an alibi.”
“Not until I get their permission to name them. I called Gina last night, Detective, but she never answered. I kept getting her voice mail. I wanted to discuss a few more things about the lawsuit against Mayor Bloom, so I left her a message.”
“Was this friend a man or a woman?” When Flynn hesitated, Mason sounded cool and calm. “And may I see your cell phone?”
“Why?”
“To verify your calls, although you can refuse my request. If you do allow access, it will help verify your story.”
Flynn retrieved it from a pocket, unlocked the device, and then handed it to Mason. He scrolled through the history and then handed it back. “Checks out so far, Mr. Hanson. We might have to ask your provider for phone records however.”
“So am I a suspect?”
“I never said you were, sir.”
“Good.” He perked up. “Sasha told me she found Gina this morning—what, maybe four or five hours ago? I’d like to know where Mayor Bloom was last night.”
Mason ignored that comment and opened his notebook again. “Is there anything you can tell me, outside of client confidentiality, that would shed light on their disagreement?”
He cracked his knuckles, a nervous habit from long ago. “Gina wanted the money he owed her for work she’d completed for him. End of story.”
“What about—”
“Cal Bloom disagreed with her marketing plan,” Mom burst out. “It was all wrong for his re-election campaign. He asked her to make changes, but Gina wanted more money. A lot more. That was shameful if you ask me. And greedy.”
I glanced at Mason, busy writing in his notebook. Wow. So much for Mom not knowing the real story. And she didn’t hide her dislike of Gina Lawson, either. Flynn sat there, waiting for the detective to continue, cracking his knuckles. But then he offered new information.
“Verbal agreements aren’t the best way to do business. I can’t tell you much about what Gina was doing Saturday, Detective, but after we served the mayor notice about the lawsuit, at that tea party Sasha and Maddie had across the street, Gina went her way and I went mine. That should convince you I’m not involved.”
“We’re gathering information at this point,” Mason said wearily. “It’s early in the investigation, so we have yet to determine any suspects.”
“Will you include her boss, Holly Parker?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, turning back to Flynn instead. “I’d advise you to avoid any travel out of state, Mr. Hanson, until we know more. Thank you for your cooperation today.”
“But—okay, I’ll have to reschedule.” Flynn must have caught my raised eyebrows. “I’m supposed to sign a vacation rental agreement in Florida. I left all the furniture at the condo, along with the beach chairs, umbrellas, all the towels. Even my bikes.”
“I told him to do that,” Mom said with a smile. “Pack any personal photos and clothes, but leave everything else. It’s bound to be popular with vacationers. Is there anything else we can help you with, Detective Mason? Flynn has that television studio appointment.”
My ex jumped off the stool. “I’m running late—”
“I’m not quite finished asking questions.” Mason hailed my sister, who hovered in the doorway. “Maddie, how well did you know Gina Lawson?”
I almost laughed out loud at her “deer in the headlights” expression. She stammered a reply. “I never met her until yesterday.”
“What about her background?” Mason asked. “Can you tell me, Mr. Hanson?”
“Gina was born and raised in a northern suburb of Detroit,” he said.
“Did any of you ever see Ms. Lawson wearing that pink hoodie around the village? The one with ‘Think Pink’ on the back.”
I held up a hand. “Holly wore it at the tea party. And Flynn mentioned earlier how Gina often borrowed her things,” I said. “Her cell phone, the car.”
“Does anyone know about her w
orking relationship with Ms. Parker? Any arguments? Complaints, problems, that kind of thing.”
“They argued about how to organize the shop, but nothing too major,” Flynn said. “Gina told me Holly wasn’t happy when she didn’t refill the gas tank for the MINI Cooper. But she had to deliver packages to the post office or pick up items for the shop. Gina didn’t use the car for any personal errands, so she refused to pay for gas.”
“Then borrowing Ms. Parker’s hoodie wasn’t unusual.” Mason waited us out, but I didn’t reply. Neither did my sister or Flynn. The wall clock ticked for an eternity, or so it seemed, until he sighed. “All right. Let me know if you hear anything else that might be relevant.”
Once Mason departed, Rosie looked forlorn. I dropped to one knee and hugged her. “Aw, poor baby. How about a treat? That might make up for your buddy leaving.”
“Damn,” Flynn said, and kissed my mother’s cheek before he headed to the door. “I’ll have to do an electronic signature on those rental papers, since the company in Clearwater can’t wait too much longer. Thanks for everything, Judith.”
I almost choked, sticking my tongue out in mock disgust in my sister’s direction, which made Maddie double over in silent laughter. Mom hadn’t noticed; she followed him out to the porch and spoke too low for me to hear. I did catch Gina’s name, though.
Once he departed, Mom returned to the coffeemaker and filled a mug. She added cream to the steaming brew. Maddie and I sat side by side at the kitchen island. I was suddenly aware of a half-eaten teddy bear cookie in my hand. I glanced at my sister, who folded her arms over her chest and tapped a foot. Mom lifted an eyebrow in surprise.
“What’s going on, you two? Cooking up a scheme?”
“Us? You and Flynn are the ones scheming together,” Maddie said. “I have a feeling he’s hiding something. Didn’t you get that vibe, Sash?”
“I always get that vibe.” I decided to finish the cookie.
“But he was with a friend last night. Nowhere near where Gina was found,” Mom said.
I choked on a crumb. “Did he tell you where he was?”
“Why would Flynn kill Gina? He wanted to make money from the lawsuit, right? I might not agree about suing Cal Bloom, but business is business. And Flynn’s the best attorney here in town.” Mom sipped coffee. “So are you ready for Wednesday night, Maddie?”
“Oh, no,” she said. “Don’t change the subject without spilling the dirt on Gina and Flynn. You saw her at the Cran-beary Tea. Did you meet her before that?”
“Yes, at Flynn’s house. She’s a tramp. Was, I should say. Bossy, too. She wanted him to redecorate, make it cozy for the two of them. He wasn’t ready for big changes like that. And Gina demanded an engagement ring.”
“Aha,” Maddie said with a teasing glance at me. “He wouldn’t marry her.”
“Why should he?” Mom sniffed. “Gina was greedy. That’s why she wanted to sue Cal, and wouldn’t consider a smaller payment. A kill fee, that’s what Flynn called it. That sounds terrible, but you know more about that kind of thing.”
“Yes, it’s a freelance term. A fee to kill the project, usually half the original amount agreed upon. I’m surprised Gina wouldn’t accept it.”
“That’s part of the problem with a verbal agreement and not a binding contract,” I said. “So who is Flynn seeing now?”
“I don’t know,” Mom said. “But that detective better not harass Cal Bloom. That would ruin his campaign worse than Gina’s terrible marketing plan. If he’s a murder suspect, he’d never get re-elected. And like I said, he must be innocent.”
“Until proven guilty.”
“Then you’ll have to find out who killed this woman, Sasha.” Mom shook a finger at me. “I won’t let a good friend’s reputation be smeared. You succeeded in figuring out who killed Will Taylor. You can do the same about Gina Lawson’s murder.”
I gaped at her in shock, but Mom took her coffee mug and the newspaper into the office. Maddie hooted. “Whoa. Got yourself into real hot water.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Whenever Mom expected something, we all gave in. I rested an elbow on the kitchen island, my chin in hand, and recalled seeing Cal Bloom with Uncle Ross. They’d watched the technicians at work for a long time. Didn’t killers revisit the crime scene out of curiosity? If only I’d paid more attention this morning.
“So I never told you what Abby said yesterday.” Maddie sounded excited. “Not about the re-election, although Abby said the mayor is having trouble getting people to put signs on their lawns. And that was before Gina and Flynn served him notice.”
“Like I said, I don’t care about politics.”
“But you do about Mom and Dad.”
“What about them?”
“Abby heard Mom signed up for a forty-hour fundamentals course to get a real estate license. Once she applies and passes the test, Mom has to work for a licensed broker. With all of Dad’s and Uncle Ross’s friends, that won’t be any problem.”
“I hope she realizes it’s a lot more work than she might expect.”
“Yeah, I know. And she won’t always get paid for showing a gazillion houses,” Maddie said. “But it also means Mom and Dad might be moving back to Michigan.”
My jaw dropped. “But what about their Florida condo? Oh—you think they’ll rent it out the same way Flynn’s doing his?”
“Sounds like Mom gave him the idea, so yeah . . .” Maddie’s voice trailed off.
It all made sense now. I glanced at the ceiling, thinking of our parents’ suite upstairs. This house seemed to shrink the longer Mom and Dad lingered in Silver Hollow.
Worse, they would seriously cramp our sense of independence.
Chapter 8
“Sorry I had to leave the restaurant early last night, Mads.” I filled a mug with hot water, chose my favorite mint tea bag, and added sugar. “What time did you get home?”
“Around ten thirty, I guess.” She slathered jam on a crisp English muffin. “You were asleep. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and I wasn’t in the mood to party with Kip all night anyway. I keep telling him he’s got to finish painting his sculpture. He’s so laid-back about getting it done. Too laid-back, given all the trouble he’s having.”
“I never meant to ruin your evening.”
“You didn’t. It’s an ongoing spat.” Maddie bit into her breakfast. “We had a big fight while Jay drove you home.”
“What’s this about?” Mom had returned and cocked her head. “Are you talking about handling arguments with your boyfriend? Your father and I always talk things over instead of letting things simmer, which only makes things worse.”
I bit back a quick retort. Her version of “talking things over” meant she hung on until Dad caved in to whatever she wanted. “Why is Kip having trouble? You told me using acrylic paint would be the best kind given his design.”
“Yeah, but making it look like tie-dye is trickier than we thought. We dipped a bunch of shirts to see how the pattern goes, only it takes time to feather and blend the colors. More than he expected. That’s why I’m so nervous. I told him to go work on his bear last night, and asked Jay to take me home. He wasn’t happy with that.”
I wondered if Kip blamed me for Maddie coming home early, and hoped not. I liked him. He had an easy charm and good nature. I didn’t want to see Maddie hurt, though, and if it came to taking sides, I would protect my sister. Her well-being came first.
“It won’t be long before you’re done with both bears,” Mom said. “Don’t worry.”
“I can’t help but worry.” Maddie sounded unhappy. “At least Kip called me this morning. He acted like nothing happened, too, even though he was furious about my not going to the bar with him last night. Several bars. I never liked pub crawls. You know why.”
I did, given the scare she’d once had from a stalker. “He’s a college professor. Why not choose a bar and stick to it than go pub-crawling?”
“I always thought it
would affect him getting tenure, but Kip doesn’t want that. He’s happy enough as an adjunct. Claims it gives him more freedom in his artwork.”
I stared into my tea, wondering if Kip lacked ambition, but changed the subject instead. “Speaking of getting things done on time, the staff had better start working on that lederhosen for the festival’s grand prize teddy bear.”
“I found a pattern online and enlarged it.” Maddie crunched the last of her English muffin and caught a drip of jam with a finger. “Hilda and Joan are on it. They’ve worked out a special tooth fairy outfit together, too.”
“A tooth fairy outfit?” Mom asked. “For teddy bears?”
“Yeah. Parents can either buy a sparkly dress with wings, or a ‘Super Tooth’ cape. Their choice.” Maddie explained the special pocket in each costume. “It will be much easier to get a child’s tooth out and then put money inside. And cheaper than making a specialized bear with a pouch somewhere. We’ve gotten lots of orders already for both costumes.”
“Hey, all, sorry I’m late. How’s the office coming along?”
Aunt Eve breezed into the kitchen, looking radiant in fuchsia capris—or pedal pushers, as they called them back in the fifties and early sixties—with a white pin-tucked blouse tied at the waist. Aunt Eve’s floral pink scarf covered her blond hair, matching her lipstick and outfit. We all sat up straighter, even Mom. Maybe she was cowed by her former sister-in-law’s confident attitude and unique fashion sense, or felt self-conscious in sweats.
“The office is a royal mess,” Mom said ruefully. “Are you sure you want to help? You’ll get as filthy as I am, Eve.”
“A little dirt doesn’t hurt anyone. I know projects take time,” she said, “and I’m eager to move out of that little alcove near the cash register. I don’t like people watching me work while they shop. Or listening to my conversations every time I answer the phone.”
“All right then. Let’s get to work.”
Mom led Aunt Eve down the hallway. “Like I said, let them do what they want,” Maddie said in a low voice. “Helping them will take our mind off the murder.”
