by J. R. Ripley
I opened the letter from Frank Duvall and began reading. I knew little about Mr. Duvall, but from the Duvall’s Flower Farm letterhead, it was clear what he did for a living. I also saw that the telephone number scrawled on the outside of the other envelope was not the number for the flower farm.
I read further. The grower had contacted the professor concerning a flower he had developed. Duvall was looking for Mason’s endorsement in taking the plant to market. That was interesting. Why hadn’t Mason mentioned it? Was it all hush-hush, or had he merely considered it unimportant and unworthy of his time?
I returned the letter to the envelope and the envelope to the pile. As I did, my eyes caught a glint of something shiny between the mattress and the wall. I dropped to my knees and pried it out. It was a woman’s mini makeup kit. I turned it over in my hand. Apparently Mason had had company at some point. In our correspondence before his arrival, the professor had said that he was separated from his wife. I flipped open the cover. The kit held several shades of concealer, blush, eye shadow, and two tiny brushes. The makeup kit could have belonged to anyone—and it could have lain hidden there for any amount of time, from last year to last night. Did it belong to Rose Smith, perhaps?
I slipped the small makeup kit in my pocket and left.
* * *
I returned to Birds & Bees but didn’t go inside. I wanted to see if Derek had returned to his office yet so I could ask him whether he’d gone down to the police station as promised. If he had, I wanted to learn if the police had allowed him to see Rose Smith and what she might have said.
I found a parking spot directly in front of Harlan and Harlan, the law practice Derek shared with his father. Through the window, I saw Ben sitting behind his desk, reading something on his computer monitor.
It was what I saw on the sign above the display window next door on the left that took me aback. Soft pink letters against the white brick building read DREAM GOWNS.
Derek had told me that his ex, the other Amy, was planning to open a bridal salon with some of her friends. I’d been hoping that meant somewhere far away, like Charlotte or Raleigh. Los Angeles would be nice. But here? Next door to Derek’s office? Not to mention, he lived in a one-bedroom apartment over the law offices.
That wouldn’t be a dream. That would be a nightmare.
I told myself not to panic as I shut off the van’s engine and popped open my door. After all, just because a bridal salon was opening next to Derek’s place of business didn’t mean he knew the owner—or had once been married to her.
The front door of the salon opened, and a man in a brown suit stepped out, holding the door open with his back and clutching a big cardboard box. He turned as he came out and headed up the sidewalk.
“Derek?” I joined him on the sidewalk.
Derek lowered the box in his arms. “Amy!” His cheeks were red. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I can see that. I can also see that you’re busy.” I eyed the box. “Moving in or moving out?” I looked from him to the ghastly pink signage on the building next door.
He cleared his throat. “Actually, I was just lending, uh . . .”
“Your ex-wife, Amy?” I said when he seemed determined not to finish.
“Yes.” He set the box on the ground and tugged at his shirt collar. “She asked me to give her a hand. I was helping her move a few things.” He leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “How have you been? How are you holding up?”
“Fine,” I said. “I wanted to ask you what you’d learned about Mason’s murder and find out if Jerry let you talk to Rose. But if you’re busy . . .”
“No,” Derek grabbed my wrist. “Not busy at all.” He retrieved the box from the sidewalk. “Let me take this around back. Maybe we can go get some lunch and talk there?”
I arched my brow. “Talking sounds like a good idea.” It sounded like a very good idea.
Derek glanced guiltily up at the new store’s sign. Two lovely gowns, one white and the other blush with lace appliques, stood in the front window. Amy the Ex was nowhere to be seen, not that I was complaining. “Great, wait for me in the office. I’ll be right back.”
I went inside the offices of Harlan and Harlan. The receptionist-slash-secretary was nowhere to be found. Ben was on the phone, so I simply stuck my head in the door and waved hello. I sat in the visitor’s chair near the door, and Derek returned a couple of minutes later with his hands free.
“Let me grab my keys and we can go.” He started up the hall toward his office in the back. “Some Southern comfort food okay with you?” he called.
I said it was, and he turned around. “I guess I don’t need my car keys then. We can hit Jessamine’s Kitchen.”
“Jessamine’s Kitchen? I’m game,” I said, having never been.
“Trust me,” said Derek, holding the office door open for me. “They’ve only been open a couple of weeks, but I’ve been a few times already. They’re convenient, and the food’s great.”
We crossed the busy town square to the restaurant and were seated immediately. As the waiter filled our water glasses, I looked Derek in the eye. “I’ve been looking for you all morning. You’re a hard one to pin down.”
“Sorry.” Derek massaged his temples. “I’ve been putting out fires all day.”
“Like your ex?” I smiled at him. “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“Trust me, I’d rather she opened up across town,” Derek said with a heartfelt sigh. “And she was all set to. Then Robert LaChance offered her and her partners a great deal on the space next to mine, and as Amy, my ex, says, it was just too good to pass up.”
So Robert LaChance was the reason that Derek’s ex was opening a business right next door to his law office. Wasn’t that interesting? My fingertips drummed the tabletop as Derek ordered the grilled okra appetizer for us to share.
Robert and I had had our differences. He had tried to get the better of me on more than one occasion. Heck, he’d tried to put me out of business. I knew he owned several properties around town in addition to his car dealership. He’d even tried to get me to move out of my current house and into one his properties. Was it a coincidence that Derek’s ex had ended up in one of his buildings, or had he done it to annoy me?
“You okay, Amy?” Derek had caught the curious expression on my face.
I didn’t want to bother Derek with my insecurities and possibly misplaced suspicions, so I determined not to let our discussion go there. “Yes, just thinking.” I grinned. “I’m afraid that happens once in a while.” The waiter returned with a shallow bowl of grilled okra and a lemon-basil dipping sauce. I dipped a piece of okra in the bowl and tasted it. “This is delicious.”
“I told you.”
I grabbed a second pod and scooped up some more sauce. I’d stop at three. I was counting my calories. “Did you get a chance to speak with Rose Smith?”
“Yes. Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
The waiter interrupted before Derek could explain. I ordered the pecan, cranberry, and turkey salad and Derek the shrimp and grits.
“She didn’t want to talk to me,” Derek explained.
“Didn’t want to, or Jerry wouldn’t let you?”
“Chief Kennedy seemed fine with it. He said he wasn’t getting much out of Mrs. Smith himself.”
“He wasn’t upset that you were interfering with police business by going down there?” If it had been me, he would have told me to mind my own business.
“Nope. Besides, I was down at the police station to see a client anyway.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” Derek paused as our lunches were served. “Thanks,” he said, picking up his napkin and draping it across his lap. He picked up his fork. “I had to bail out Packard Mulligan.”
I leaned back against my chair. “Wow. Pack Mulligan. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”
“You know him?” Derek shoved a forkful of shrimp-covered grits into his mouth.
&
nbsp; “Not really,” I said. “His family lived on the outskirts of town. I had a friend who lived out that way on a small farm. We used to play out there sometimes after school and in the summer.” I grinned at the memory. “We were all scared of Pack back then.”
“Scared how?”
I shrugged. “You know how kids can be. Pack was several years older than us. His family kept to themselves. We thought they were all hooligans, thieves, and cutthroats.”
Derek chuckled. “Unfortunately, that still seems to be the general opinion around town.”
“Small towns can have long memories,” I said.
“Are you saying he or his family had some history of trouble with the town? Because I haven’t found any legal history to speak of.”
“No, nothing that I know of. All rumors and innuendo.”
“Such as?”
“You’ll laugh when I tell you this . . .”
“I could use a good laugh.”
“Kids used to say that he murdered his own father and put his preserved corpse on display in the parlor.”
Derek laughed.
“I know, it sounds silly now.” But back then we had considered the possibility.
“Please don’t spread stories like that around.” Derek buttered a biscuit. “Innuendo and rumors are what’s got Packard Mulligan into trouble this time.”
“Can I ask what he’s done or is accused of having done?”
“I don’t think he’d mind. Besides, it’s public record. There has been a string of home robberies, plus a few shops around the downtown area have reported things missing. Nothing serious. Small items taken when folks are out during the day. Store owners say whoever the perpetrator or perpetrators are, they’re coming in through the rear entrances.”
Derek patted my hand. “You should do like the police have suggested to the business owners and keep your back door locked during the day.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
Derek continued. “The chief says Mister Mulligan has been accused of all kinds of petty theft over the years, including stealing chickens, but nothing that’s ever amounted to anything. He’s never even been held over for trial.”
“Stealing chickens? As I recall, the Mulligans had a good-sized chicken coop of their own.”
“So I hear. And you know what Packard Mulligan said when I asked him about that?”
“What?”
“He said he doesn’t even eat chicken, only beef and pork.”
I couldn’t help chuckling. “Why lock up Pack now?”
“The chief said somebody saw Mister Mulligan near one of the downtown shops that was robbed about two days ago.”
“Does he have any evidence? Was Pack caught with anything taken from the houses or stores?”
“Not a thing. Pack was taken to the station in the morning and is now back home. He was very cooperative, in fact.”
“It sounds to me like Jerry shouldn’t have locked him up in the first place.”
“He was only doing his job. Keeping the good citizens of the Town of Ruby Lake happy can be a big part of that.”
“I suppose. What does Pack do to provide for himself?”
“Mister Mulligan is an egg farmer. He runs a stand down at the farmer’s market. Sells direct to some of the regional mom-and-pop stores.”
“That figures.” After that, the conversation shifted to topics more idyllic.
We finished our lunch and Derek called for the check. “Sorry I can’t linger. Duty calls.”
“Same here.” I needed to get back to the store. “It’s too bad you weren’t able to chat with Rose. You know, her daughter came by the apartment this morning.”
“Amber?”
I nodded.
“What did she want?”
“Mostly I think somebody to talk to. She’s really shaken up by this whole thing.”
“Of course. Nobody wants to think of their mother as a murderer.”
8
“What are you doing here?” Kim asked the minute I stepped through the back door of Birds & Bees. She was sitting on a stool in the corner of the storeroom sorting through a box of birding and gardening books that had come in.
I hadn’t ordered any copies of Mason’s book out of respect for Rose’s book signing. I didn’t want to cut into her sales. I had thought I would stock Hummingbirds and Their Habits afterward. Now I wasn’t so sure I wanted the book—a sad and gruesome reminder of the professor’s ugly end—on our shelves.
“It’s my place of business,” I quipped. “Where else should I be?” I headed upfront and tossed my purse under the sales counter.
Kim followed me. “At the police station, making your official statement like you’re supposed to be.” Kim shook her head as if disgusted with me.
I frowned. “Supposed to be? Jerry told me he’d call me when he was ready for me to come in.” I folded my arms across my chest. “He hasn’t phoned me yet.”
“Uh-oh.” Kim’s hand went to her mouth.
“Uh-oh what?”
“Uh-oh, Larry told Dan, and Dan told me . . .” Kim and Dan had started seeing each other socially. Nothing serious yet, as far as I could tell, but there appeared to be some sparks. Kim pointed her finger my way. “And I was supposed to tell you . . .”
I closed my eyes and counted to ten. “So now the chief of police thinks I’m playing hard to get. He’s probably fuming and cussing me out six ways to sundown.”
Kim smiled weakly. “Probably.”
I snatched my purse from behind the counter and headed for the back door and my van. “If anybody’s looking for me, you know where to find me!”
* * *
As I expected, Jerry was happy to see me but annoyed that I was late.
Jerry sat toward the back with his feet on his desk. “You took your own sweet time getting here, Simms.”
“Sorry.” I shot a look-what-you’ve-done-to-me-now expression at Sutton and Reynolds, who were practically cowering in the opposite corner of the police station.
Jerry dropped his feet to the floor. “Come on over here and let me get your statement.” A ratty tweed suitcase sat at the side of his desk.
“Going somewhere?”
“Huh?”
I pointed to the suitcase.
“Never mind that,” he snapped. “It belonged to the victim.”
“Sorry I asked.” I took a seat across from him. “Have you spoken to Mason’s wife and family? The university where he teaches? Everybody must be in shock.”
“We’re handling it, Simms. It’s our job. Your job is to answer my questions.”
I crossed my legs. My right foot jiggled of its own accord. “What do you want to know?”
“I want to know exactly,” he reached for a pencil and pointed the sharp end at me, “exactly what you saw and what you heard over at Bookarama.” His eyes bored into mine. “Before and after the murder.” He tapped his notebook against the desktop and wriggled his fingers in a come hither fashion. “Go ahead and start.” He reached over and hit the Record button on a small digital recorder that he slid toward me.
“Give me a minute,” I replied, shutting my eyes and trying to recall everything I’d seen and heard. “This isn’t easy. I mean, I wasn’t expecting to have to remember anything in particular. I couldn’t know there was going to be a murder.”
Jerry eyed me impatiently. “Come on, Simms. I haven’t got all day.”
I rubbed my temples. “What about Rose? What’s she told you? Anything?” I glanced toward the hall. I couldn’t see the cells from where I sat, but I knew where they were. I knew exactly where they were. I’d been in one of them—briefly, but it still gave me sweats whenever I thought of it.
“She ain’t here.”
I cocked my head. “She isn’t? Where is she? County lockup?”
Jerry sighed. “You’re sorely trying my patience, Simms.” He rolled the pencil over his desk. “If you must know, we let her go.”
I straightened. “You l
et her go? Why?”
“Because she has an alibi, that’s why.”
“Alibi? But I saw her kill Mason.”
“What?” Jerry leaned closer.
“Well, I didn’t see her do it exactly.” I turned to Officers Sutton and Reynolds for support, even though I knew none would be forthcoming. “Jerry, Rose admitted to killing Mason. I told you that. She said she killed him and that she was glad. Glad he was dead.” I shook my head in disbelief. “And you let her go? What was her alibi? What did Rose say?”
“Rose is saying nothing. Refuses to talk. Period.” Jerry was clearly disgusted. “No matter. I know for a fact she was talking to John Moytoy at the time of the killing.”
“From the library?” I knew John. He was a friend of mine. “But he’s out of town. He couldn’t possibly—”
“Will you stop running off at the mouth?” The chief gripped his skull. “You’re giving me a headache. He’s back now, and he says she was on some video chat thing with him. They use their computers to talk to one another.”
“That doesn’t make sense. She must have killed him before or after talking to John.”
“We have a time of death, Simms. A bunch of folks stuck around after the signing for snacks and refreshments. Afterward,” he dug unsuccessfully through a stack of papers, “around ten, Livingston was on his cell phone with his attorney in Houston.
“According to Mister Castillo—that’s the attorney—they were on the phone when your professor friend shouted, sounded scared. A minute later—” Jerry snapped his fingers, “the line went dead. Mister Castillo says he tried calling back and got no answer. Livingston’s phone log backs that story up.
“And Rose was talking to Mister Moytoy at that exact time. Now,” the chief said, perhaps feeling like he’d shared too much and clearly determined to take control of the conversation, “tell me what you saw, who you saw, and every little thing in between.”
