by anna snow
"Well," he said quietly, as we followed Ling to two of the pedicure stations, "Melody works as a nail tech, right?"
"Yes."
"What better time to talk to her than while she's doing your toes and can't just walk away?"
I hated to admit it, but his idea was much better than my upfront approach.
"Besides, you could really use a pedicure. You're starting to look a little like a homeless wolfman." He nodded toward my feet.
He sat down in one of the chairs Ling directed us to, and I took a seat beside him then kicked off my shoes. I looked down at my feet and cringed. The nails weren't too long, but the polish was almost completely chipped off, and I definitely needed a good soak and file.
"See," he said triumphantly then leaned back in his chair.
"Okay. You're right. I need a pedicure, but I resent that wolfman comparison."
Silas grinned. "I'll remember to refrain from telling you the truth in the future."
I reached over and swatted him gently on the arm, and he laughed.
A few minutes later, a tall, platinum-blonde woman with brown eyes, full lips, and a modelesque figure approached us.
She sat down on a stool in front of me with an expression that said she'd rather be anywhere than where she was and introduced herself in a bored tone. "I'm Melody. I'll be doing your pedicures today." She slid Silas's feet into a footbath, added a little bit of scented oil, and then turned the bath on. She then scooted in front of me and began removing the remaining polish from my toes.
I watched her work quietly for a moment then said to Silas, "Did you hear about that singer getting killed?"
I was hoping that by starting up a conversation Melody would join in, and I could get some information without outright asking her what I wanted to know.
Melody glanced up quickly then continued working on my feet.
"Yeah," Silas played along. "Man, I forget the name of the band he played for." He snapped his fingers and pretended to think.
"The Rebels," Melody said as she checked the water in my footbath.
I looked down at Melody. "That's it," I said with false enthusiasm. "You know I heard that the girlfriend did it. Can you believe that?" I shook my head.
"Actually, I can," she said.
"Why would she want to kill her own boyfriend?" I asked with false curiosity.
"Maybe he was in love with another woman, and she found out?" she shrugged. "Wouldn't that be enough for some women to lose it and kill their man?"
Silas and I shared a quick glance.
"I suppose," I said and tapped my lip. "But it still sounds sketchy to me. What if the other woman killed him because he wouldn't leave his girlfriend?" I threw out there.
She looked up at me with a deep frown but remained silent then moved over to work on Silas.
"Were you a big fan of the band?" he asked her.
"I guess you could say that," she answered vaguely.
"What do you mean?" I asked and wiggled my toes in the warm bubbling water.
"I knew Mark. The singer that was killed," she said to Silas. Apparently, it was easier for her to speak to Silas than it was for her to speak to me.
"Wow. You two were friends?" Silas said.
"Well, we'd been seeing each other for a while."
"Oh, I'm sorry for your loss," I said from my seat, but she ignored me.
"Had you been a couple for long?" Silas continued his line of questioning.
"We weren't exactly a couple. We'd just been seeing each other while he was out on the road and some when he was in town and could get away from that clingy girlfriend of his." Her expression and tone turned condescending.
"His death must be hard on you," Silas said gently.
She shrugged. "I guess so. It wasn't like our relationship was ever really going to go anywhere as long as that girlfriend of his kept her claws buried in his skin."
My first instinct was to reach over and smack the snark out of her mouth for speaking about my best friend the way she was, but I controlled myself this time.
Mona would have been proud.
"So do you think the girlfriend killed him?" I asked.
"I don't know who killed Mark, but she would be my best guess."
I noticed the side of her mouth tilt up ever so slightly.
"You're lucky that you weren't attacked, too. I mean if you were seeing each other, you're lucky you weren't at his place when he was murdered."
That's right Silas. Keep her talking. I strongly believed that Silas was in the wrong line of business. He could get information from just about anyone, especially women.
"Yeah," I joined in and nodded my head. "You're lucky. Where were you that night?" I put on my dumb blonde act.
"Home sleeping," she said without even looking in my direction.
I relaxed back in my chair and let her finish our pedicures in silence. Once we were finished, Silas paid at the front desk, and we hurried out to his car. Once inside he looked at me and shook his head.
"For her to have been obsessed with him, she sure didn't seem too torn up over his death."
"My thoughts exactly. And the way she talked about Kelly?" I shook my head as Silas put the car in reverse then pulled out of the parking lot.
"I think she's our prime suspect," Silas said before pulling into the nearest coffee shop.
I turned toward him. "How'd you know I was hungry?"
"Are you for real? You're always hungry." He laughed then exited the car.
I followed Silas into the shop and placed my order then took a seat at a small table near the back.
"I think Melody killed Mark, too," I picked our earlier conversation back up. "She doesn't have a solid alibi, obviously hates Kelly, and she lives less than twenty minutes from Mark's apartment building, depending on the traffic. It would have been no problem at all for her to shimmy up the fire escape before Mark and Kelly got there, find a way to drug Kelly, and kill Mark."
The barista called out our names, and Silas retrieved our orders then retook his seat. "You're right, but we have zero evidence that's what happened."
"We need to know if Mark, Melody, or any member of the band owns a gun."
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and was just about to call Mandy when it rang in my hand.
"It's Tyler," I said and answered the phone.
"Hey, beautiful." Tyler's thick, honey-smooth voice sounded over the line.
"Hey, yourself. How's everything going?" I asked and stirred my layered latte watching the cream turn the coffee the perfect creamy tan color and breathed in the sweet scent of my orange crème scone.
"I was wondering if we're still on for tonight?" he asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
"Absolutely." In all honesty, I needed a night with Tyler. My brain had been working overtime the last few days, and Tyler had a way of calming me down like nothing ever had.
"Great. I'll meet you at your place a little after six, as long as nothing comes up. But in the meantime, I have some news to share with you."
"I'll take whatever you can give me," I said honestly.
"We found a gun under a loose floorboard in Mark's apartment. The serial numbers have been scratched off."
"So finding out if the gun belonged to Mark, or someone else who planted it there, is pretty much a dead end."
"Yeah, we're running the gun we found and the bullet that killed Mark for matches in the computer right now. But that's not all. We found a ton of drugs in the same cubby."
"What kind of drugs?" I asked. My spidey-senses began to tingle.
"You name it—we found it. Kelly's toxicology results haven't come back yet, and the blood on her hands is still being tested, so we have a little bit of time to get this case solved. But from what we found, it looks like Mark had a serious drug problem. Did Kelly ever say anything to you about Mark using drugs?"
"No, and as observant as Kelly is, I find it hard to believe that if he did in fact have a problem, she didn't know.
"
Silas watched me over the rim of his cup as he took a drink, and I could tell that he was thinking along the same lines I was.
"I hate to ask you this, babe." Tyler sounded hesitant. "But is there any chance that Kelly could be using drugs, too?"
"No," I said adamantly while shaking my head. "Even though I know my girls, we still have once a month drug testing at the office for insurance reasons. If she was using, I'd have known and gotten her help long before now."
"That's what I thought too, but I had to ask just to make sure."
"I know," I assured him. "I'm going to follow up on a couple of things today. If I find anything, I'll let you know."
"Thanks. I'll see you this evening. I love you. Be careful."
The call ended, and I just sat there with my mouth hanging open like some sort of Looney Tune.
"Barb? You all right?"
Tyler and I were serious. I knew that. I also knew I had strong feelings resembling love for him, but to hear him say the words…
"He said…"
"That he loves you?" Silas guessed with a grin.
"How'd you know?" I asked with a crooked expression.
"Believe me. The look on your face was enough to tell me that he dropped a bomb on you…and I heard him. Your phone's volume is turned way up. Are you losing your hearing or something?" he teased.
"I had an ear infection last week, and my ears are still a little clogged. Everything is still slightly muffled." I defended myself even though I didn't need to. I was just on edge.
"Why are you freaking out about Tyler telling you that he loves you?"
"Are you serious?" I asked in a near shriek then lowered my voice when people started to stare. "We've only been seeing each other a few months. Isn't that too soon?"
Silas tilted his head to the side and pulled a face at me. "Give me a break, Barb. You're just wigging out because of how your last relationship turned out."
My last serious relationship ended when I caught my fiancé and his secretary having sexy time on his desk in his accounting office. After that, I'd kept my distance from men…until Tyler came along.
"Maybe." I relented and pulled my straw in and out of the straw hole on my cup.
Silas leaned forward and took my hand in his. His hands really were just about the softest things I'd ever felt. He took exceptionally good care of himself.
"Barb, listen to me." He leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice. "Not every man in the world is like Jason."
I met his gaze, and he continued. "Even a blind man could see how much Tyler adores you and how much you love him, even if you're not ready to admit it yet. If you want to be with Tyler, you're going to have to take that leap of faith."
I knew that what Silas said was the truth. The thought was beyond scary, but not as scary as the thought of not being with Tyler. It appeared that I had a lot to think about before I saw Tyler again in a few hours.
I nodded. "I know. Thanks, Si."
He released my hand, leaned back in his chair, and grinned. "Our little Barb is in looovvvee," he said in a singsong voice to break the serious moment and lighten things up like he always did.
I laughed and rolled my eyes then tossed a paper napkin at him. "Shut your pie hole, and let's get back to work."
CHAPTER SEVEN
We left the coffee shop and were on our way to Murphy, a smallish suburb of Dallas, to pay a visit to one of the remaining band members that we hadn't questioned yet. While on the way, Silas made a call to Mandy to find out if Mark, Melody, or any of his bandmates owned a gun.
"I'll take a look and see what I can find," Mandy said over the speakerphone. "Also, I checked out the other members, and they are in town. You should be able to find them at their homes where they're apparently holed up just in case the killer is out to get them, too, I believe were their exact words on Facebook," she said.
"Good, because we're headed to Dale's house right now," I said.
"Good luck. Let me know if you need anything else."
"Will do," I said and ended the call.
"Looks like we have more people to question," Silas said and leaned back in his seat. "Hopefully, we'll be able to get close to them. It sounds like they're a little paranoid."
"Unless it's all an act, and one of them is our guy," I said as Silas slid the car over into the next lane to make our approaching exit.
"True." Silas nodded.
"What does Mandy have written down about this guy?"
I pulled the paper with the band members' information on it off the backseat.
"It says here that Dale Allens is the bass player for The Rebels. He lives out in Murphy. He isn't married and drives a 2016 Cadillac Escalade."
"That's it?"
I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "What were you expecting? What he had for dinner? What size pants he wears?"
"Ha. Ha." Silas rolled his eyes. "No. I guess I was just expecting a little more. Mandy usually packs in the information."
"Well, maybe this was all she could find."
"Yeah. I guess so."
If that was all the information Mandy could gather on this guy, then he was a clean, law-abiding citizen, or he was exceptional at hiding anything criminal that he might have done.
Silas made the upcoming exit and pulled into Murphy.
Murphy was home to a little more than nineteen thousand people. The cost of buying a house was high, and the cost of renting, if you were brave enough to do so, was even higher. The neighborhood we pulled into was a sea of green lawns, fancy cars, and even fancier houses. This was definitely a neighborhood for the well-to-do, so it made perfect sense that one of the band members would live here.
We pulled to a stop outside the gate of a tall, three-story, redbrick house. The window blinds were all closed tight, and the gate leading up the drive was locked. Silas put the car in park and shut off the ignition.
"It doesn't look like anyone is home," I said and tapped my knee with my fingertips.
"Well, if what Mandy said is true, they're lying low," Silas reminded me. "Because they're scared that the killer might get them," he said sarcastically.
"Well, we're not getting anywhere sitting out here staring at the place," I said and opened the car door. "If this guy really is that worried about being murdered, then I would think he'd be more than willing to talk to someone who's trying to find the killer." I got out of the car and walked up to the intercom speaker hanging on the stone pillar beside the gate.
Silas came up beside me as I pressed the button. A moment later a soft male voice came over the speaker.
"I'm not talking to the press. Go away."
"We're not with the press," I assured him. "My name is Barb Jackson, and I'm a private investigator looking into the murder of Mark Reynolds."
"Barb Jackson? Kelly's friend Barb?"
"Yeah," I said and glanced at Silas who shrugged.
"Just a second, and I'll buzz you in."
A second later the gate slid open. We hopped back into the car, drove up the cobblestone driveway, and parked behind an impressive Audi.
"That was easy enough. Apparently, Kelly talks a lot about you," Silas said as he got out of the car and waited for me to join him.
"Looks like it, and I'm not complaining. It's making this part of the job a lot easier than normal."
We were walking up the stone pathway when the main door to the house opened, and we were met by a tall, pale, thin man wearing a hot-pink muscle shirt and lime green shorts that were so short if he bent over, we were going to get a view of everything he had to offer. He had a head full of bleached white hair that was spiked up with so much hair product I was amazed the weight of it all wasn't causing his head to hang down. In one hand was a small, fluffy, white dog with a pink collar, and the other was held out like he was holding an imaginary purse.
He trotted down the stairs and up to us. "Can I see some ID? I know. I know. You're Kelly's friend, but you can never be too cautious, you know."
He waved his free hand in the air.
I reached into my purse, pulled out my wallet, and showed him my driver's license then handed him a business card.
"You too, sweet cheeks." He waved at Silas.
Silas pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed his license over.
He handed the items back to us and sighed with a hand pressed against his chest.
"Sorry about that," he explained. "I'm just a little on edge, you know? Why don't you come on inside? I have a pitcher of mimosas in the kitchen."
He turned around and motioned for us to follow him.
Silas leaned down and whispered in my ear. "Are you sure this is our guy? He looks more like he belongs in a Vegas drag show than a rock band."
I shrugged. "He recognized my name. I think this is our guy," I replied and followed our host into the house. "Besides, you don't know what he's really like. He probably puts on a fake front while in public."
The interior of the house was just as flamboyant as its resident. The floors were a light hardwood dotted with brightly colored area rugs. The furniture was an eclectic mix of artistic and urban styles in outrageous colors such as hot pink, orange, yellow, and one extremely loud, gold Papasan chair.
"Kitchen's this way," Dale called out and pranced down a wide hallway.
I raised my eyebrows at Silas and followed Dale into a surprisingly normal kitchen equipped with top-of-the-line appliances.
"Have a seat, and I'll get us those mimosas."
We had barely sat down when Dale hurried over with our drinks and set them on the table before taking his seat.
"Now, what's the reason for this surprise visit?" he asked lightly and sipped his drink.
"As I'm sure you've heard, the police suspect Kelly murdered Mark," I began. "I'm trying to get to the truth about what happened that night."
"Anyone who's ever met Kelly knows that she wouldn't ever hurt anyone on purpose." Dale shook his head. "I couldn't believe what the reporters were saying on the news about her killing Mark. She didn't do it," he said with a confident tone.
I liked this guy already.
"I know she didn't," I agreed. "That's why we're here."
