by Patrice Lyle
The desperation in her voice tugged at my heartstrings. "I've helped a lot of people with your symptoms. Thyroid tests can be helpful, but they're not the end-all. I think several other things should be addressed." I retrieved one of my Health Nuts Rock business cards and handed it to her. "I live in Maryland, but I see people via Skype, and I'm happy to consult with you while I'm in New York."
She eyed my card. "I've never been to a naturopathic doctor before."
"I always joke that I'm most people's Plan Z."
A small smile broke across her face, and she slipped the card into her jacket pocket. "I'll definitely call you while you're in Manhattan, which, by the way, you won't be leaving until we clear things up here."
My jaw dropped. I went from doctor to potential crime suspect in no time flat. However, she was just doing her job, so who was I to judge?
"I heard you had an altercation with the deceased at Ken's Killer Kale Chip booth earlier today." Detective Malone fixed me with what was probably her signature lie-detecting gaze. The kind that made suspects confess.
But I had nothing to admit.
"I wouldn't call it an altercation," I said, making air quotes. "Veronica insulted me, and I merely defended myself."
She squinted at a few scribbles on the page and then looked at me. "A witness overheard the deceased call you 'a Barbie with period bloat.'"
Darn that Cooter.
"That's an altercation where I come from, Dr. Meadows."
My first response was to inquire where she came from, but I didn't think she'd go for that. So I decided to home in on the tiff between Ken and Veronica. "If you recall a few minutes ago, you found my conversation about Ken and the deceased's argument interesting."
She nodded. "Continue."
I relayed the story and ended with Ken's over-my-dead-body remark. "That's kind of weird, don't you think?" I hated to rat Ken out, but all was fair in love and crime scene investigations.
She furrowed her brow. "Now tell me about what happened at the deceased's booth a little bit later. A witness said you asked the deceased if it would kill her to be nice, and she accused you of spreading rumors about kale?" She pinned with me a gotcha gaze.
Why did innocuous stuff sound so much worse when recounted by a homicide detective? I was pondering what to say when a thought hit me. Cooter hadn't been at Veronica's booth when I'd made that remark. So who had told the police?
"Yes, I asked Veronica that, but only because of how rude she was to Cooter Jones and her assistant, Ruby. Who, by the way, I saw running out of the conference hall at the same time I saw Veronica lying on the floor."
Her pen hovered above the notepad. "Run that by me again."
"I had just suggested to my auntie that we check her booth since we'd left it unattended during the Elvis impersonators' performance." Obviously, I left out the part about Aunt Alfa mentioning that her ex-husband—I mean, they were only married for a week after a wild night in Vegas—was on the lam. "I turned around and saw Ruby bolting out the door at the same time I noticed Veronica unconscious."
She snapped her notebook shut and slid it beneath her leg. "There are so many suspects that I'm going to be here all night." She retrieved her cell phone from her jacket pocket and dialed a number. "Yes, hello. This is Meg. Sorry, but I'm going to have to cancel my pedicure."
I knew it! Maybe her thyroid was fine, and she was just fed up with dealing with dead bodies? Who could blame her? After the last four dead bodies I'd encountered, I certainly wasn't thrilled to be adding a fifth notch to my lipstick case.
Detective Malone ended the call and was slipping her phone back into her jacket pocket when it dinged. She quickly read the new text message and leveled a tough gaze on me. "One last question, Dr. Piper."
The last part sounded promising. "Yes?"
"Have you ever been involved in a murder investigation before?"
CHAPTER FIVE
Pad Thigh
Oh, for the love of dark chocolate pretzels. How did she know about the other murders? Was it the text she'd received? Had Mystic Ming thrown me under the murder-bus?
"I'm asking you a simple question, doctor." Detective Malone crossed one leg over the other and leaned forward. "Yes or no?"
Perhaps the best move was an inquiry. "Define involved, please?"
If her flared nostrils were any indication, my tactic hadn't been well received. "I understand you and your aunt were at the scene of two murder investigations." She glanced at her phone. "One in Florida and one in South Carolina."
Her report hung between us like a cloud of cheap perfume that wouldn't clear no matter how many windows you opened. Several uncomfortable moments passed while she stared me down.
Finally, I'd had enough. "Look, we've had some bad luck at health expos."
She arched an eyebrow. "Bad luck? I think I'd call it a pattern. You two attend a health expo, and people drop dead."
Tex and Brownie had also attended, but I saw no reason to mention that. "It's an unfortunate coincidence, that's all, detective. Plus, both of those murders were solved."
"Twenty years of police work has taught me not to believe in coincidences. And don't you mean all four murders? I understand there were two homicides at each scene."
"Two, four," I said and waved my hand. "Math never was my best subject."
My attempt to lighten things up fell flat. The detective narrowed her eyes and scribbled on her notepad.
"I'm sorry." I opened my silver, sequined purse and retrieved a dark chocolate quinoa crisp. "I guess I'm just nervous."
"Do you have a reason to be?"
My pulse took off as I popped the chocolate in my mouth. Ah. Delish. I should have done that at the beginning of our chat. I reveled in the cocoa bliss and noticed the detective staring at my chocolate.
I tightened my grip on my purse. Normally, I believed in sharing, but the woman had just said that I had a pattern of attending health expos where people dropped dead. Which, technically speaking, was true.
But no way was I sharing with her now.
I swallowed the decadent chocolate and leveled my gaze on her. "I was only nervous because my blood sugar was low." There. Let her argue that.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, which gave me the impression that she was trying to size me up but having no success. Then she retrieved a business card from her jacket and handed it to me. "Please call me if you remember anything else about Veronica Forks' suspicious death."
"Thanks." I rose from the chair, happy to be out of the spotlight.
She tilted her head and looked up at me. "Actually, you'd probably do me more good locked up."
I furrowed my brows. "Excuse me?"
She shrugged. "I meant health-wise. If you were stuck in the pokey, I could pick your brain."
I wanted to tell her that the only thing I'd be picking would be the lock, but I decided not to agitate her. What a bizarre thing for her to say. My naturopath mind was in diagnostic mode as I strode off stage. Maybe Detective Meg needed emotional help? Police work wasn't easy, as I knew firsthand. If it weren't for my PI flash cards, I wouldn't have solved those two murders.
Hmm. Perhaps I could send her a link to the flash card website?
I reached the bottom of the steps and saw Tex talking to a policeman. Loyola loitered nearby. After Loyola's little performance, I figured I should talk to him. Especially considering Detective Malone had indicated that I could be involved in Veronica's death.
As far as I was concerned, it was every murder suspect for him or herself.
"Loyola," I said and pinned him with a look. "I couldn't help but notice your apparent glee earlier when you were singing and dancing near Veronica's dead body?"
He scooted his glasses toward the bridge of his nose and flashed me a megawatt smile.
"I totally owe your aunt."
For saying you were going to end up in a nursing home? But all I asked was, "Why?"
"She obviously put this whole karma thing into motion," he
said with a wild wave of his arms. "She said Veronica would drop dead, and she did."
I studied his expression. His bright eyes and uncontainable grin were hardly an appropriate reaction to someone's death. At least, not in public anyway.
Could he have taken Mystic Ming's prophecy into his own hands?
"Why'd you come to this expo?" I was certain he'd indicated he hadn't known Veronica would be here.
"To advertise my acupuncture business."
"Where's your office?"
"Iowa."
A PI vibe hit me. How did an acupuncturist from Iowa expect to gain clients from a show in Manhattan? I didn't get a chance to ask him, however, because his cell phone dinged.
He glanced at the screen and shot me a grin. "Gotta go. My alliance in this whole break-up mess with Veronica wants to celebrate."
What was there to say except, "Enjoy"?
"Thanks. Willow's into Japanese culture big-time, and she found a restaurant with awesome teriyaki."
An image of the woman in the traditional Japanese dress popped into my mind. "Did I see her earlier wearing a kimono? About my height with brown hair wrapped up in a bun?"
"Yep. That's Willow. She was married to Oscar, the man who dumped her for Veronica. Now we're good friends." He smiled proudly.
Loyola hustled away, and I mulled over what I'd just learned. I bet I knew what Willow and Veronica had been fighting about when Cooter had seen them. Being dumped was definitely motive for murder. When Willow had muttered that Veronica was going to be sorry, had she been referring to the extreme sense of the words?
As in, death?
* * *
Detective Malone released the witnesses and suspects—aka moi, I supposed—a few hours later with instructions that none of us were to leave Manhattan. The crime scene investigators planned to work all night, and the detective said to check with the front desk in the morning to see if the exhibit hall was ready for reopening.
Aunt Alfa, Tex, Brownie, and I left the hotel bound for our non-early-bird dinner with Snookums. We merged onto the crowded sidewalk of West 36th Street. The temperature was a tad cooler than in Maryland, so I was glad I'd packed my bejeweled, hot-pink running jacket.
Tex stooped to pick up Brownie after our piglet almost collided with a street vendor selling Yankees hats. "Come on, little guy. We can't have you hurting yourself."
"Brownie refused to eat much of his regular piglet feed. He kept staring at the kale chips in the trash, squealing for them," Aunt Alfa said. "Hopefully he'll chow down on some pad thigh tonight."
A pang of worry hit me. "What if Brownie ate tainted chips?"
"Wouldn't he be showing signs of sickness, Doc?" Tex looked quizzically at my piglet.
"Yeah, probably so." I touched Brownie's snout. No fever was present. "But we should get the kale chip bag tested to be sure."
"Good idea," Aunt Alfa said.
I dodged a woman wearing roller skates and carrying a Wonder Woman lunch box. "Until we find out what happened to Veronica, no kale chips."
Wwwweeee!
"I'm sorry, Brownie," I said and kissed his little pink snout. "But it's not safe for you to consume potentially tainted kale chips."
Wwwweeee!
"I reckon he doesn't understand, Doc."
When Tex cradled my twenty-pound piglet as if he were a child, my heart melted faster than chocolate chips on the stove. Brownie may not have understood, but I sure understood that I was the luckiest woman in the universe. I had a hot Texan fiancé who loved my crazy auntie, Brownie, dark chocolate, and me.
A girl couldn't ask for more.
"We'll find some snacks to appease him," I said. "I'm sure the Big Apple has a health food store."
"Sounds like a plan." Tex shot a reassuring smile at Brownie. "What'd the police ask you two this time? They just asked me the basics."
"Same here." Aunt Alfa zipped up her teal velour jacket. She'd abandoned her psychic getup, which was a relief. "Just the usual questions. Name, address, did I know the victim, yoda, yoda, yoda."
Tex kept his gaze straight ahead, and I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing at another 'Aunt Alfa-ism.'
"You'd think the police would come up with some new questions." Aunt Alfa peered at a vendor selling a table full of plastic ninja swords.
Thankfully, she passed.
"I actually had some new questions this time. The detective all but accused me of having something to do with Veronica's death." I relayed the details of my encounter with Detective Malone. "She said I had a pattern of attending health expos where people dropped dead."
Tex furrowed his brow. "I reckon I don't like the sound of that."
"Me either." The crepe-paper-like skin around my auntie's mouth tightened. "I'll show her a pattern, all right. I'll pull out a ninja move and karate chop that derriere of hers. 'Course, my foot might get lost in there."
I skidded to a halt. "Aunt Alfa, you are absolutely forbidden from karate chopping Detective Malone. That's assaulting a police officer." I employed my firmest doctor's voice because my auntie had a pattern of turning into a geriatric ninja at the drop of a chocolate chip.
"She's not a police officer, Pipe." Aunt Alfa shot me a look that screamed duh. "She's a detective."
"Sorry, Aunt Alfa. But Doc's right," Tattoo Tex said. "It's the same thing."
Aunt Alfa jutted out her chin. "Fine, but I'm keeping my eye on her."
Tex and I exchanged phew glances as we continued toward the restaurant. The vibrant buzz in Manhattan was different than the gentle energy that flowed through our beach-town home. I loved shopping and couldn't wait to hunt for the perfect wedding dress——despite Mystic Ming's prophecy that my quest would be difficult—but I preferred coastal life.
What was better than walking on the sand alongside the ocean?
"Anyone see or hear anythang suspicious?" Tex asked as he stepped over a giant wad of neon-green gum.
I quickly filled them in on what Loyola had shared about Veronica having stolen Willow's husband. "That tidbit certainly gives Willow a motive, if Veronica was murdered."
"Any woman who steals another woman's husband deserves to drop dead." Aunt Alfa looked serious.
"I reckon most people feel that way, but acting it out is a whole other thing." Tex was the voice of reason.
"All I'm saying," Aunt Alfa said, "is if Veronica was murdered, then we need to check out Willow."
"I agree. And Loyola too." His little Irish jig had made quite an impression.
Aunt Alfa's phone dinged, so we stopped for her to remove her it from her teal-colored fanny pack—she's always color coordinated—and waited while she read a message.
"Look thar." Tex pointed across the street.
My gaze followed his finger and landed on a bridal shop. The storefront was painted white with gold trim, and the sign above the door read Princess Wedding Gowns.
Tex nudged me with his elbow. "Perfect shop for a princess."
Aw. I took in his handsome profile and beamed. "Aunt Alfa and I can stop in after dinner. That was one of the shops on our list."
"I reckon there hasn't ever been a bride as gorgeous as you're going to be."
Aw. "You're going to be the handsomest groom ever."
Tex blushed. How cute was that?
"Well, I'll be a cat's patootie." Aunt Alfa pursed her lips. "Ming said that Snookums would be a no-show tonight, and sure enough, Snookums just bailed."
I stepped aside for a white-haired woman walking three chihuahuas—one that bared his little teeth and shot me a doggie stink-eye. "Why'd he bail?"
"First, let me show you what Ming said about an hour ago." Aunt Alfa tapped her phone and angled the screen so Tex and I could read the message.
No pad thai for stupid Snookums. He have to work late on report to impress new boss. Not going to work though. He get fired again from Wall Street. Snookums always be a loser with no money.
Tex peered at the message and grimaced. "That's harsh."
&nb
sp; "That's Ming," I said, shaking my head.
"Snookums claims to have to work late, but I think he's freaked out about what happened to Veronica." Aunt Alfa tapped the screen again. "Here's what he said."
I leaned over to read the message. Hey, Alfa. Sorry, but I need to get a report done, so I can't make dinner tonight. Also, I heard about that tuning-fork author dying at the expo you're at. I hope you understand about me not wanting to get wrapped up in another murder investigation.
"Can't blame him. The man was falsely arrested for murder." I had, however, gotten him off the hook by catching the right killer. But still. I'm sure he was afflicted with PMS too.
"I'm done with Snookums," Aunt Alfa said with a shrug. "At my age, I need a man with a pension."
She wasn't kidding. Her collection of essential oils hadn't increased in value.
"There are other horses in the stable." Tex sounded hopeful.
"You got that right. I can't afford to waste time on men who can't bring home the turkey bacon. I'm lucky to have Ming as my advisor."
"About that, Aunt Alfa." I slipped my arm through hers. "When did you and Ming decide to go into business together?"
"Ming's bored on the other side, and he can't go to the light until he stops making rude remarks for a month."
Looked like Ming had better prepare to spend eternity in a state of boredom.
"After seventy years as an aromatherapist, I was ready for a change, so I said why not?"
"How does Ming get paid?" Tex asked as he guided us toward a crosswalk. Once the light turned green, we strolled to the other side of the street.
"Ming said delivering prophecy is payment enough. Apparently the folks in charge told Ming that he's stuck unless he uses his talent to help others."
I scrunched my brow. "How does telling someone that a burrito truck is going to run him over qualify as helping people?"
"Knowledge is power, Pipe." Aunt Alfa stepped onto the curb and pointed to a small restaurant with a green awning. "Look, there's Bangkok Noodles."
Tex smiled. "Good, I'm starving. All that mayhem back thar gave my appetite a kick in the keester."
