“You think Carolyn Fitzhugh was murdered, don’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question.
Deena’s jaw dropped, but she quickly snapped it shut. “No-o,” she answered feebly, drawing the word out to two syllables.
“But somebody does. Am I right?” Drops of dark coffee slid from his chin and made another casualty of his tie.
She took a seat in her favorite chair and searched for just the right words. Speaking slowly, like a judge giving complex instructions to a jury, she proceeded to answer. “Let’s just put it this way. If circumstances present themselves as such to reveal information that could be used to draw a conclusion that was formerly dismissed and therefore left unknown, then there could be a likelihood—”
“Cut the crap,” Lloyd said, dismissing her double-speak. “I trust you. And if this turns out to be a story, I expect you to include every juicy morsel. Deal?”
“Deal.” She smiled and left the office. Reprieved for now.
Laurie’s desk was too neat for a reporter. Feature writers were a different breed. They always got bylines and were often frustrated novelists. Deena gave her the information about Carolyn’s funeral.
“Got it,” Laurie said, and typed it into her story. “Do you know when the medical examiner will release the final report?”
“They have to wait for the toxicology results. I would expect it to take at least another week. Real-life autopsies are much slower than the ones on television.”
Deena headed over to her desk and thumbed through messages. Her cell phone rang. It was Sandra. At first, she couldn’t make out what her friend was saying. She must have been whispering so that customers in the thrift shop couldn’t hear her voice. “I’ll be right there.” Deena grabbed her purse and headed out the front door.
The Second Chance Thrift Shop was about two blocks away. Deena often shopped there in hopes of finding donated treasures to buy and sell. Even though Sandra was ten years younger than Deena, they shared many of the same interests and had become good friends.
Deena couldn’t imagine what was so urgent that made Sandra ask her to high tail it over. Although Sandra was the most superstitious person Deena had ever known, she wasn’t prone to drama. She generally kept a cool head and composed demeanor. Several cars were parked in front of the shop, confirming Deena’s suspicion that Sandra had customers inside.
She opened the door and heard the familiar jingle of the bells on the door. They were there to alert Sandra if customers came in while she was in the back storeroom. A woman was paying at the register. Deena recognized her as the mother of one of her former students. Not wanting to get into a conversation with her, Deena ducked behind a rack of women’s dresses, nearly stepping on another shopper. It was Marie.
“Mrs. Sharpe! I didn’t know you shopped here.”
Deena’s skill at stealth left something to be desired. “Yes. Actually, I shop for items for my antique booth.” She thumbed distractedly through the clothes in front of her.
“My sister and I sell merchandise at the flea market. We love to look here for anything collectible.”
“Well, isn’t that something.” Deena looked over at the register and saw Sandra waving at her from behind the counter. “It’s good to see you again, Marie.”
She hurried to the back of the shop and followed Sandra into the storeroom. They stopped next to one of several large cardboard boxes of clothing. “So what’s the big secret?”
Sandra motioned for her to come closer and pointed to the inside of one of the boxes. “Why do you suppose there is a bloody butcher knife inside a box of coats delivered here from Carolyn Fitzhugh’s house?”
Deena gasped and then covered her mouth. She had a strong feeling this was the missing knife from the party. Her mind raced. If this was indeed the knife Chef Jacques had used to slice the prime rib, of course it would have blood on it—cow’s blood, that is. But how would it have gotten into this box of clothes? She searched her brain to remember what had been said about the knife and the boxes.
“These must be the donated coats collected at the Fall Fling,” Deena said as she replayed the conversation in her head. “I was at Estelle’s house on Wednesday when Wendy Fairmont’s helpers were bringing them downstairs to deliver to you.”
“Okay, but what about the knife?”
“The caterers were there cleaning up, and Chef Jacques claimed his carving knife was missing. He said it was expensive and thought someone might have stolen it.”
“Whew. That’s a relief. Let me pull it out again to see if—”
“No, stop!” Sandra jumped back, putting her hand to her chest. Deena had not meant to sound so alarming. She thought about whether she should let her friend in on the mystery. Not seeing a way to avoid it, she tried to sound casual. “There’s the slightest possibility that Carolyn might have been…murdered.”
“What?” Sandra leaned her head toward Deena as if she hadn’t heard correctly.
“Don’t freak out, but we probably shouldn’t touch the knife just yet.”
“But I already touched it! I dropped it when I saw the dried blood. I tried to call Ian, but he’s in court. That’s when I called you.”
“First things first,” Deena said, trying to appear calm. “Get me a flashlight. I want to see if this is even the same knife. I might remember the brand name once I see it.”
Sandra took a quick glance in the store for shoppers. Seeing none, she grabbed a flashlight and handed it to Deena.
The tall wardrobe box was half empty. Sandra had already removed some of the bulky coats and jackets. Deena stood on her tiptoes and leaned over to read the name on the side of the knife. Squinting to see the small letters, she said, “Katz—”
“Cats? I want to see.” Sandra and Deena both jumped as Marie stood inside the doorway of the storeroom. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I was ready to check out and couldn’t find you. Did a cat have kittens in there?” She took a few steps toward them.
“Cats? No!” Deena said. “Not cats. Rats.”
“Rats? Yikes!” Marie quickly ran back into the store.
Sandra followed her. “Yes, rats. Big hairy rats. There goes one!” She pointed near Marie’s feet.
“You need an exterminator, quick!”
“You’re right. I’ll call an exterminator.” Sandra picked up the handful of items Marie had placed on the counter and escorted her to the door. “Here, take these. They’re on the house. The rat house.” Sandra opened the door and shooed her out, locking it behind her. She turned the “Open” sign around to “Closed.” Just to be safe, she made a quick tour around the shop to make sure there were no more customers.
“Okay. Spill the beans.” She crossed her arms and stared at Deena.
“It’s a Katzenbach. Same as Chef Jacques’.”
“Great. So you think Chef Jacques killed Carolyn?”
“No. Let’s go sit down and I’ll explain.” Deena swore Sandra to secrecy even though it wasn’t necessary. Her friend was not one to gossip like most women she knew. She told her about Estelle’s suspicions, Trey’s warning, Penelope Burrows, the missing knife, the mystery heir, and the list of suspects.
After listening patiently, Sandra asked the obvious question. “So do you think Carolyn was murdered?”
“At first I didn’t, but now that I’ve seen that knife, I’m beginning to wonder. That wasn’t steak juice on that knife. It looked like real blood.”
“That’s what I thought, too. So what should we do?”
“I think we should call Trey to see what he says. Maybe they can look for fingerprints and see whose blood it is. Maybe it’s Carolyn’s.”
“But she died of a broken neck. She wasn’t stabbed to death.”
“Estelle said the coroner’s report showed she had cuts. Don’t you think we should find out?”
Sandra looked back at the box. “I really wish I could talk to Ian first.”
“I understand, but I don’t want to sit here all day babysi
tting this knife while we wait for him to call you back. I trust Trey.”
They agreed to call him. Deena didn’t mention the knife on the phone, but told him she needed to discuss Estelle. He said he would come by as soon as he finished up a report he was working on for Sheriff Lowry.
“Why don’t we sort through this other box while we wait. I’ve got to pull out the men’s coats to sell in the shop. I’m taking the ladies’ and children’s coats over to the Women’s Shelter.”
“Sounds good. Let’s go slow, though, just in case there are any other surprises.” They began pulling out the garments one at a time.
“This is a gorgeous men’s Pendleton jacket,” Sandra said, holding it up to show Deena. “It’s covered in cat hair.” She slapped at the fabric to brush it off. “I should be able to get a pretty penny for it here in the shop.”
“Let me see that.” Deena looked at it closely. “Yep. That’s the jacket I bought Russell for his birthday. It’s probably dog hair, though, from Russell’s lab, Maggie. Otherwise, I’d be sneezing like crazy.”
“Do you want it back?”
“Heavens, no! I don’t know why I thought my brother would ever wear wool in Texas. Actually, it was a great investment since he met Estelle when he donated it.”
“Aww. That’s so sweet. Well, the money will go for a good cause. Lots of people abandon their pets in the winter, and the shelter has taken in quite a few more animals in the last two weeks.” She hung up the jacket and reached for another. “Did you hear something?” Sandra turned toward the back door. There was another rattling sound.
“Maybe it’s Trey.”
“That’s right.” She wrestled with the chain and padlock on the back door. Ian insisted she keep that door securely locked when she was in the shop. He also made her park in front of the store instead of the alley. She only used the back door when someone brought in a large donation or when she had to move in large pieces of furniture.
She finally pushed it open. Finding no one there, she stepped into the alley and caught just a glimpse of someone disappearing around the corner. Shutting it, she heard a loud knock coming from the front of the shop.
“I’ll get it.” Deena headed to the front and saw Trey looking in the front window.
“Thanks for coming,” she said as she let him into the shop. “Sandra, have you met Deputy Trey Simms?”
“Just briefly after the party.”
“Howdy-do,” he said and tipped his hat.
“We asked you here to show you something,” Deena said. “Follow me.” When they got to the box in the storeroom, she handed him the flashlight.
“What am I looking at?” He shined the light in the box.
Deena pointed and Trey focused the beam of light on the large knife.
“What’s this?”
“That is the missing carving knife from Estelle’s house.”
“I’m sorry if I sound dense, but what missing knife are you talking about?” Trey switched off the light, looking puzzled.
“Oh, I forgot you had already left when this happened.” Deena explained the drama of the missing knife and the boxes of coats taken from the house. She also told him the knife appeared to have blood on it.
“I see. So, you think this knife is somehow related to Aunt Carolyn’s death.”
“Don’t you think it’s suspicious that a big, bloody kitchen knife made its way upstairs inside a box right after Carolyn mysteriously died?”
“Sounds fishy to me,” Sandra said, nodding in agreement.
“First of all, no one has said her death was ‘mysterious’ besides you and Aunt Estelle. Let’s just take a look at this knife.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and lifted it out of the box. “Huh. It certainly looks like dried blood on the tip.” He eyed it carefully. “I’ll be right back.” He carried it out to his squad car and returned a few minutes later holding it in a plastic evidence bag.
“What do you think?” Deena asked. “Are you going to check it for prints and get a DNA profile on the blood?”
He looked at the bag and noticed just how sharp the blade appeared. “What exactly do you expect us to find on this knife?”
“My fingerprints.” Sandra raised her hand as if in school. “I picked it up before I realized what it was.”
Deena nodded. “I expect that you will find the killer’s fingerprints and Carolyn’s blood. Estelle said they found cuts on her mother’s body. Maybe the killer started to stab her then pushed her down the stairs instead. Knowing there was blood on the knife, he threw it in the box and then he…he…” She stopped, not knowing what should follow.
“In police work, we call that ‘going down a rabbit hole.’ We could go through a lot of ‘what if’ scenarios, but we don’t even know what we have. Remember, this isn’t even a real case, and if it becomes one, it won’t be mine. Sheriff Lowry will assign it to a different deputy, being that I’m a relative.”
“And an heir,” Deena added. “How does it feel to suddenly get a hundred thousand dollar pay day?”
Trey couldn’t help but grin. “Pretty good, actually.” Looking back at the knife, he said, “I’ll take this to the lab, and see if they can lift prints from it. They can do blood typing to see if it’s a match to Aunt Carolyn. After that, we’ll see what we’ve got.”
“Thanks, Trey. I won’t mention anything to Estelle until I hear back from you.”
“Remember what I told you. Just stall her for now. The medical examiner’s report should be out by the end of next week. And if it turns out there’s something to this knife, it means someone out there is not afraid to hurt people to get what he wants. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.” He headed to the front of the store.
His warning left Deena with a cold chill, even before he opened the front door.
Chapter Nine
Friday was date night at the Sharpe house, which meant dinner at Las Abuelas. Mexican food and margaritas were just what she needed. After helping Sandra deliver the coats to the shelter, Deena stopped by to check on her booth at the antique mall. As usual, it required cleaning and rearranging. She pulled a few items to take home and went searching in the dumpster for boxes. She wanted to make room for some holiday merchandise she had at the house. By the time she left, she was filthy— like she had rolled around on the floor of a laundromat. She wanted to shower and change clothes before Gary got home.
Although it was cold, the sun had been out all day and now cast a stunning orange glow behind the clouds. Hopefully, the weather would stay nice for tomorrow’s shopping trip to the flea market. An unfamiliar car parked in front of the house caught her off guard as she pulled around the corner of her street. She pressed the garage door opener and was equally surprised to see Gary’s car parked inside. He wasn’t due home from work for at least another hour.
He and an older man were sitting at the kitchen table. The gentleman was wearing a three-piece suit and even had a gold pocket watch on a chain. For a moment, she thought he might be dressed in costume for a production at the community playhouse.
“Deena, this is Ronald Gilbert. He wanted privacy to go over some financial matters, so we decided to work here at the house.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said, taking off her jacket. “Are you Carolyn Fitzhugh’s neighbor?”
“Yes, that’s right. Have we met?” He raised a bushy gray eyebrow.
“Not exactly.” Deena could not believe a murder suspect was sitting in her own kitchen. She thought quickly about how to get the information she needed from him. “We were at Carolyn Fitzhugh’s party on Tuesday. Such a tragic accident.” She sat down at the table.
“Yes, tragic.” Deena’s presence seemed to make him uncomfortable.
“You were there, right? I think I saw you in the kitchen.”
“In the kitchen? Oh, you must have seen me going out to get Francine’s handbag from the car. She has a terrible habit of leaving it behind.”
“I see,” Deena said. “B
ack door guests are best.”
“I suppose.” He turned to Gary as if pleading for help.
She didn’t stop there. “I was at the reading of Mrs. Fitzhugh’s will and understand she gave you the mineral rights to your property.”
“I didn’t realize my personal finances were of concern to anyone else.” He looked over at Gary suspiciously.
“Deena’s brother is seeing Estelle Fitzhugh. You know how small towns are.” Gary glared at Deena then looked back at Mr. Gilbert. “I can assure you, anything we discuss here is strictly in confidence.”
“I would hope so.”
“I bet those mineral rights are worth a lot of money,” Deena said, knowing she was on shaky ground. “Did you know Carolyn was leaving them to you? I guess her death was a fortunate thing for you.”
He bristled at the remark. “That’s a strange thing for a Christian woman to say! Death is never fortunate, young lady. What church do you go to?”
“That’s none—”
“First Methodist,” Gary said and steeled his eyes on Deena.
“Hmm. Maybe you should consider joining us Baptists before your soul is forever clenched in the hands of Satan.”
Deena knew by Gary’s face that she better quit while she was ahead. She smiled politely and excused herself to get cleaned up before she got in more hot water.
What a coincidence that Mr. Gilbert was Gary’s client—at least for now—and also a possible suspect in Carolyn’s death. But Deena’s gut told her the man she just met was not a murderer. She wished she had been more courteous. Maybe she should go back out and turn on some Southern charm. Before long, she heard the front door close and knew she missed her chance to make up for her bad behavior.
When she came back out, Gary was sitting on the sofa watching SportsCenter. Before she could apologize to him, the doorbell rang.
Heading for the door, she asked, “What now? Will this day never end?”
It was Christy Ann from across the street. “Hi. I need to talk to you about something. I waited until your guest left.”
Sharpe Edge (Cozy Suburbs Mystery Series) Page 7
