by Patrice Lyle
Tex smiled, but then he turned toward me, looking serious. "What about Brownie, Doc?"
His comment made my gut twist again. Poor Brownie. He had to eat. "I'll try all the kale chips again. If we don't have any luck, we'll try other brands."
Aunt Alfa paused the video. "I know we prefer him eating healthy and all, but there are commercial brands of kale chips. You could try a drugstore."
"Good idea." I was willing to try anything. I hated not hearing Brownie's cute squeals.
"I saw one of those Duane Reade stores, Doc. You want us to run by there first before we talk to Ken?"
I shook my head. "Both are important. Why don't you go get the kale chips, and I'll find Ken on the expo floor. I'm sure he's worried about the recall and what it's doing to his business."
Tex creased his brow. "I'm not sure that's safe."
I waved away his concern. "We'll be in public, plus he's a hippie dude. They're not prone to violence." Then I recalled Veronica's statement about Ken pretending to be a surfer. Wonder how I could confirm that?
"If you want to protect yourself, Pipe, take a can of that whipped cream. It comes in handy."
I rolled my eyes and declined the offer.
* * *
A little while later, we strolled into the expo hall, hoping to find Ken. Several vendors prepared for the reopening, but I didn't see Ken. The kale chip booth was manned by that blonde girl. Her name escaped me now. Was it Kelly?
She turned toward me with a big smile and a helpful nametag that read Callie. "I remember you."
"Yes, I recall meeting you yesterday when…" I wasn't sure how to best bring up Veronica. I didn't want to sound disrespectful to the deceased because someone had been telling the police stuff about me. Could it be her?
Callie pressed her lips together before bursting into a huge smile. "Yesterday was like a serendipitous bag of mixed nuts."
I tilted my head. "Meaning?"
"You just never know what life's going to bring. It's like you're eating a bag of mixed nuts with everything but macadamia nuts, and you love macadamia nuts, and suddenly you're noshing, and you get a macadamia nut."
The influx of her tone and rapid speech told me she was elated. Bubbly. Was Veronica's death the macadamia nut in her life?
I decided it was best to play along. "Macadamia nuts rock, all right." I glanced behind her. "Do you know where Ken's at?"
She cast a nervous look at her feet and fidgeted with her tie-dyed skirt. "He's talking to the police. They think he might be involved because his kale chips were the murder weapon."
"That doesn't mean he did it. Someone else could have poisoned them." I stated the obvious.
She nodded. "Tell that to the police, though."
My best bet to extract intel about the Christmas wedding was to play BFF and agree with everything she said. "I'll definitely tell them."
A smile lit her face. "Thanks. Ken's an awesome guy."
The way her expression went all dreamy and her voice all soft revealed her secret. I talked that way about Tex because I was in love with him. But was Ken in love with Callie? The pending nuptials with Veronica needed to be mentioned delicately.
"Callie, I was in the Princess Bridal Salon yesterday and saw Ruby there returning—or trying to return—a wedding dress for Veronica."
Instantly, Callie's face darkened. "That was cancelled."
She knew about the wedding then. I decided to extract more.
I feigned confusion and drew my finger to my chin. "What do you mean? The wedding dress order hadn't been cancelled."
"The farce wedding was called off." She leaned closer to the display table until it wedged against her tie-dyed skirt. "Veronica only wanted Ken to marry her so she could get his company."
That was odd. I thought back to their earlier argument. Hadn't Veronica said she would buy the company?
"Ken asked Veronica to marry him?"
Callie's face froze. Her lip twitched. A hot spot had definitely been identified.
"It was a stupid lust thing. He never really loved her, and they dated only briefly." Her jaw tightened. "Ken. Never. Really. Loved. Her."
Interesting. What if Callie was smitten with Ken and went ballistic over the Christmas wedding? Ken saying I do to Veronica also meant Ken saying I don't to Callie.
I didn't need a PI flash card to know a woman scorned was capable of murder.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Psycho Ministers & Dream Cream
I left Callie at the kale chip booth in search of Ken. My cell phone buzzed as I rifled through a basket filled with gluten-free recipe cards. I wondered if a new dish might entice Brownie? I removed my phone from my purse and was relieved it was Tex, not Ming. After our first bridal shopping trip, I feared his prophecy might be correct.
I gazed at Tex's message. Just walking into hotel. Had an interesting trip to the drugstore. Where are you, Doc?
In the main expo hall, I typed back. I'll walk up front.
I set the card for gluten-free peanut butter cookies back and strode to the entrance. Callie's conversation needed to be bounced off Tex for sure. Something about her set me on edge. I spotted Tex and waved.
Tex's smile warmed me, as did his tall, lean physique.
"Hi, Doc." He dotted a kiss on my cheek that left me wanting more. He stepped back and lifted a white plastic bag. "Got the kale chips and a whole lot more. But you go first."
I tugged him toward the wall and quickly filled him in about Callie's conversation and how her body language heavily suggested her romantic interest in Ken.
He leaned one booted foot against the wall and furrowed his brow. "If Callie's in love with Ken, then that wedding had to be hard for her to take, but she didn't pretend not to know."
I picked up on the question in his tone. "Meaning?"
"If she killed Veronica, wouldn't it be in her best interest not to admit she knew about the wedding?"
I pursed my lips. "Good point, partner. We still need to follow up." I glanced around the expo hall. "If I see Ken, I need to talk to him about this wedding."
"Agreed. Now you want to hear something interesting?"
Oh, his drugstore story. "Yes." I edged closer.
"I'm in Duane Reade thar, rifling through the kale chips, which all I found was a ranch flavor. I know you don't like Brownie on dairy, but it was all they had."
I shrugged. "He has to eat."
"I got the kale chips and decided to buy some shampoo because mine's almost out. I saw those two women from yesterday at the health food store in the beauty aisle. They didn't see me, but guess what I saw?" His voice was tinged with PI excitement. "That holistic esthetician bought a huge jar of Dream Cream."
That struck me as odd. "Are you sure, Tex? Not to question your observation skills, but are you familiar with commercial skin products?" Or any skin products for that matter?
"'Course, Doc. Look, I obtained evidence." He showed me a picture on his cell phone. "My aunt Millie has used Dream Cream for years. I remember getting in her big old Ford truck when I was a kid and cruising up to the pharmacy where she'd buy a jar bigger than a double cheeseburger. These days she buys jugs at Costco."
This piece of intel stumped me. "What would a holistic esthetician be doing with a jar of Dream Cream? Think she uses it as a foot product?"
"Seems odd for a holistic person. My aunt Millie's a Texan. I reckon she won't try anythang she deemed holistic."
"Good work, Tex. That is strange." I didn't want to tell him, however, that I didn't see how it would relate to Veronica's murder. Just then, I saw Ken saunter inside the expo hall.
"Meet me at Aunt Alfa's booth," I said. "I want to ask Ken a few questions."
Tex nodded, and I hurried after Ken. I called out his name, careful not to sound PI-ish.
Ken stopped and turned, a small smile creeping on his face. "Hi, doctor. I've been meaning to talk to you."
Perfect opening. "Sure, about what?"
Ken slid his hands into hi
s pockets and looked a little sheepish. "I'd like to apologize if I sounded uncaring about Veronica yesterday. I made that crass comment about not feeling bad she was dead, and I shouldn't have."
I smiled warmly. "No worries, Ken. As a doctor, I know grief propels people to say and do things that they don't necessarily mean deep down."
He let out a breath. "I wish the police understood."
The man in the minister's outfit that I'd seen onstage strolled past us, staring at Ken. Something about him made goose bumps erupt along my arms. For a minister, he sure gave off major creepazoid energy. The minister lifted his eyebrows as a greeting. I gestured us toward an unoccupied corner of the expo hall. Ken followed me, and his shoulders relaxed once we were out of earshot of attendees.
"I have to be straight with you," I said. "I moonlight as a PI, and I've solved two murder cases so far."
His eyes widened at the news. "Impressive. You solve health and murder cases."
"I rely on evidence for both kinds of cases but also my gut." Along with my PI flash cards, but I left those out. I briefed him on the discovery of the wedding dress order for Veronica, and how it connected him even more to the case. "But my gut tells me you didn't do it." Plus, Brownie needed his kale chips, so this wasn't purely selfless.
That was need-to-know intel, however.
"At least someone believes in me." Ken sounded relieved.
"You need to tell me about this wedding. Why would you marry Veronica? And when you two argued at your booth yesterday, Veronica referenced an incident in Vegas?"
"It was stupid, but we had a brief fling before I realized how selfish she was." Ken grimaced as though his forthcoming words were painful. "Vegas was unfortunate, but what happened there didn't matter anymore. The wedding was never going to happen."
"Why?"
"She called it off."
"After she ordered the dress?"
He nodded. "We never would have worked."
Hmm. It seemed like something was missing. "Why did Veronica mention being your boss at your booth yesterday?"
He chuckled. "Not boss as in a wife. That was out. She meant she'd find another way to buy my company."
A trail of patchouli incense drifted past my nostrils. Ken's story didn't make sense. The dress was ordered and the wedding planned. The invoice proved it. The farce element made sense, however, because they hadn't planned on going through with the wedding. Then I remembered Ruby's phone call that I'd overheard near the ice machine.
"Ruby called someone yesterday and said she'd been unable to return the dress and that she wouldn't tell anyone." I waited a moment before going in for the kill. "Was she speaking to you?"
He hesitated. "Look, I don't want any trouble here, okay?"
I lifted my hands in surrender. "No problems from me."
He looked at me like he wasn't so sure.
"I promise you I want the real killer caught," I said as I adjusted my purse over my shoulder.
"Someone poisoned those kale chips to kill Veronica and frame me."
"Could be or they just knew that Veronica would eat the kale chips, making it an easy method of murder."
"She did talk about her love of kale on her blog and in her books."
"Can you think of anyone who'd want to hurt Veronica or frame you?"
Ken pondered my question and looked over his shoulder, his gaze landing on someone. "The minister who walked by here earlier. Pastor Devon. He's a chiropractor and a religious zealot who's leading a crusade against jezebels."
I furrowed my brow. "Jezebels?"
"You know. Home-wreckers who break up marriages."
I glanced at the minister and shivered. He gave off ultra-creepy vibes all the way across the room. Unlike cool surfer Ken. "Did he know Veronica?"
"Heck yeah. He posted a bunch of crazy stuff on his blog about her attending this expo. I wouldn't be surprised if he came here just to harass her."
That sounded crazy, but one never knew. "Thanks for the info. I hope this gets settled soon."
Ken nodded. "Me too. I want to get the Killer Kale Chip recall axed, and I'd like to sleep better at night."
"I can imagine how lost sales would make it hard to sleep." I contemplated offering him Aunt Alfa's sleep remedy, but then I remembered she'd left her aromatherapy products at home.
"That's not it," Ken said, shaking his head. "I can't sleep knowing there's a killer on the loose."
* * *
I shook off Ken's comment about a killer being on the loose—even though it was true—because it freaked me out. And speaking of freaky, I headed for Pastor Devon's booth. The good pastor was chatting with a customer about the benefits of regular chiropractic care. I believed in chiropractic adjustments, but I'd noticed that they were definitely needed with less frequency when food allergies were avoided.
A thought that wasn't popular with chiropractors.
Dr. Devon's adjustment table was in the back of the booth, and his clinic brochures were displayed along the front of the table. I perused one of his glossy flyers and didn't see any anti-jezebel comments. His bio proved to be interesting, however.
Dr. Devon Tweedler hold a bachelor's degree in biology and a doctor of chiropractic medicine from the College of Enlightenment in upstate New York. He also holds a doctor of divinity from Spirit University, and he's an ordained minister. In addition to running a full-time chiropractic clinic, Dr. Devon pastors the Church of the Divine Light. His books Cheaters Suck and Death to the Jezebels Crusade are climbing the charts in online sales.
His book titles certainly alluded to what Ken had mentioned. However, as extreme they were, I had to give it to Dr. Tweedler. The man did a lot with his twenty-four hours a day. All I did in my spare time was indulge in Tex, chocolate, and sparkly cosmetics.
Not that I was complaining.
"Good afternoon, miss," said a man whose voice shot shivers down my back.
I looked up to see Pastor Devon's dark, intense eyes appraising me clinically. I lifted his brochure and said, "You're quite accomplished, running both a clinic and a church. That's quite an undertaking."
"The Lord only gives us what we can handle."
"Very true." I smiled sweetly and wondered how to segue in to his anti-jezebel campaign and a possible connection to Veronica.
"What drew you here today?" His concern seemed genuine, as did the smile on his face. But his eyes remained cold.
I hated to lie, but now that the detective was suspicious of Aunt Alfa, I didn't have a choice. Plus, my gut told me that Ken wasn't the killer. Had Pastor Devon's home-wrecker crusade gone too far and ended in murder?
I said a quick prayer asking for forgiveness and dove into my story.
"I heard about your books and how they help victims of cheaters." I sniffed and dabbed my eye. "I could use some assistance right now."
He flashed me a crinkly-eyed look of concern. "I've been called to help those who have been cheated on. Society frequently rewards cheaters and even puts them on pedestals, like celebrity cheaters. They're the worst." His cheeks reddened as he tugged at his minister collar. "I'm tired of society rewarding jezebels. It makes me so angry."
Wow, it hadn't taken much effort to provoke him.
"How do you think society should treat jezebels?" I asked.
"Like the low-down dirt they are." He leaned forward, his knuckles gripping the edge of the display table. "I'm adding followers to my Death to the Jezebels crusade every day. It's time those cheating ho's got snuffed out."
Chills shot down my arms and legs, but I kept up my front. I had to hone in on his remark about celebrities.
I glanced around, pretending to ensure privacy. "What are your thoughts on Veronica Forks? The author who died here? I heard she cheated on her fiancé with a married man."
"Of course she did. That's what celebrities do. And instead of society banishing them to Timbuktu, we keep watching their movies and buying their books. We keep lining their corrupt pockets." He let out a cold Hannib
al Lector-like laugh. "But this time the dumb jezebel got what she had coming to her."
I ignored the obvious isn't murder a sin conversation and instead gave him what I hoped was a conspirator look. "Who do you think did it?"
The smirk that settled on Pastor Devon's face was one part psycho and one part arrogant. "I believe in free speech, but not when it comes to revealing the name of the brave person who carried out an act of much needed spiritual justice."
CHAPTER TWELVE
A Cursed Wedding Gown?
I left Pastor Devon's booth officially freaked out and ready to burrow into Tex's hard-as-a-wedge-of-pecorino chest. Pastor Devon's psycho anti-jezebel crusade was twisted, and his comment about spiritual justice made me wonder if he was the killer. Or had he paid someone to off Veronica?
Tex was easy to spot. He sat in a chair in Aunt Alfa's booth looking a wee bit bored. His hot cowboy hat perched on his head, and I laughed to myself about how I used to hate all Western stuff. Amazing how one handsome man could be such a life-changer.
"What's up, gorgeous Doc?" Tex flashed me an uber cute smile as I sat on the chair beside him.
"My mind's spinning with PI stuff." I filled him on the bizarre conversation with Pastor Devon as I sunk into his embrace. My tension lightened tremendously, and I realized, yet again, that I never needed comfort foods (except for dark chocolate, of course) when I had Comfort Tex.
"That's it, Doc. I don't want you talking to anymore of these loony-tune suspects, got it? We're a team. We do everything together."
"I love the sound of that." I leaned closer to dot a kiss on his cheek when a high-pitched screech rang out.
"How can you say that? You're so mean," a young woman's voice said. "Don't my feelings count?"
My gaze landed on Callie, who was seated across from Aunt Alfa. Looked like my auntie had donned her pirate outfit and had wrangled herself another customer.
"Look, Coolie," Aunt Alfa said, "my spirit guide doesn't lie."
That was for sure.
"But I love this guy," Callie pleaded. "And I'm desperate for him to love me as much as I love him."
