Saints & Sinners Ball

by Stacy M Jones

  The front door of the shop opened, drawing Harper’s attention away from Judy. No one came through the door. It was Matthew Inslee, and he was oddly just standing at the threshold, door open, but not stepping into the shop.

  “Can I help you, Mr. Inslee?” Hattie asked. When he didn’t say anything, she raised her eyebrows at the man. “Are you here perhaps to tell me that nothing was found in that ridiculous search of my house?”

  Inslee started to speak, but his voice caught in his throat. “No,” he squeaked, “nothing was found.” Then with his voice strong, Inslee said, “I need to speak with Harper.”

  “She’s right here. You can meet in the backroom,” Hattie offered. She looked down at Harper, who had her eyes fixed on Inslee.

  “No, that’s okay,” Inslee stammered. “Out here on the sidewalk will be just fine.”

  “Are you afraid to come into the shop, Matthew?” Lottie asked from her seat. “It’s not so scary. We promise not to turn you into a toad.”

  Harper got up and shrugged at Inslee’s odd behavior. She came to the door and followed him outside. “What can I do for you?”

  Once the shop door closed, Inslee demanded, “I need to know the details of the conversation you heard between Tucker and the man who killed him.”

  “I told you before, I didn’t hear what they were saying.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Inslee challenged.

  “Whether you believe me or not has no bearing on the truth. And the truth is as I said, I didn’t hear what they were talking about. I heard men’s voices, raised and the tone was angry, but I couldn’t make out words,” Harper countered matter of fact.

  Inslee had his hands on his hips, his eyes searching Harper’s face. “We have a witness that saw Tucker and the man speaking for several minutes. Curiously they also saw you not too far from the clearing. I find it odd that you couldn’t hear them.”

  “Did you happen to factor in that it was a party with close to two hundred people? There was a band playing as well. Standing feet from the person next to you it was hard to make out what they were saying. You should know, you were there.”

  Inslee didn’t address his presence at the ball and seemed to ignore all logic. “I think you’re protecting your aunt.”

  “Protecting her from what?” Harper barked.

  “Everyone in this city knows about your aunt’s witchy ways. I think she had something to do with this. Maybe even with all those jewelry heists. Hattie knew exactly who would be at her party. Someone saw her speaking to Tucker early in the evening. Hattie had her voice raised with him. She stomped on his foot. Then Tucker’s dead. Curious, don’t you think?”

  Harper would have laughed if the accusation wasn’t so serious. “I don’t know about my aunt’s interaction with Tucker earlier that evening, but I can assure you Hattie’s not a murderer, and she’s no thief. Hattie is well into her sixties. How exactly is she burglarizing homes while also being there at the party the whole time? Nothing you’re saying is making sense. As I said before, it was a man who shot Tucker.”

  “Couldn’t she have sent one of her minions to do her dirty work?”

  Harper did laugh at that. “Hattie’s not the wicked witch. I assure you there are no flying monkeys bumping off the townspeople who make her angry.”

  Inslee glared down at Harper, but she wasn’t breaking. This was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. Harper pointed a finger at him, nearly bumping his chest. Her voice low and even, Harper cautioned, “Mr. Inslee, you may have a problem with my aunt’s spirituality and the way she practices that, but Hattie is no threat to this community. You may be a prosecutor in small-town Little Rock, but Hattie has the weight of the Ryan family empire in New York behind her.”

  Harper took a breath and continued, “Trust me, you want a fight, we will give you one. I can guarantee you it won’t be one you’ll win. I suggest you let this silly fixation with my aunt go and do your job to find the killer. Because if I have to do your job for you, trust me, every news outlet in America is going to know of your incompetence.”

  With that Harper left Inslee standing in the street. She flung open the door to the shop, looked at Jackson and demanded, “Let’s go talk to Lizzie. We have a murder to solve.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Oh my, someone’s got her temper up,” Judy said, polishing off the last of her scone. Turning to Hattie who was standing behind the counter, she asked curiously, “What do you think that was about?”

  “Harper remembered who she is,” Hattie declared evenly. She stared out the door where Harper had just barged in and demanded Jackson’s attention. Jackson had obliged Harper without hesitation or saying a word. He had taken a last sip of coffee and followed Harper out.

  Lottie broke Hattie’s train of thought. “Why do you suppose Inslee didn’t come inside?”

  “Beatrix and I did a spell last night on the shop to protect us from him. He told Harper my shop should be closed,” Hattie explained. Then she added with a hint of sarcasm, “That or he’s afraid of me. You know how scary we witches are.”

  The ladies finished up the last of their snacks and tea and headed out. The shop was quiet while Hattie worked. She was putting together a prosperity spell kit for a client. Beatrix came in around ten, and Hattie explained what had happened with Inslee. The young girl was pleased their spell had worked.

  The rest of the morning was fairly quiet. Hattie finished the spell kit while Beatrix waited on customers, mostly locals who were there for refills of loose tea. A couple bought stones and candles for meditation. At nearly eleven, Hattie heard Beatrix calling for her from the front of the shop.

  When she walked out, Hattie was met with a woman she’d never seen before. The woman was well into her fifties, had dark, obviously dyed hair cut into a short bob that ended at her chin. Her face was red and puffy from crying. She was thin and average height. Hattie didn’t find her particularly attractive, but she could see how men could.

  “Can I help you?” Hattie asked, handing the woman a tissue.

  The woman started to cry again. Hattie guided her to the back of the shop and into the room where she did readings. It was a comfortable space. The woman sat down on the couch while Hattie took the chair in the corner. If there hadn’t been a large quartz stone sitting next to a deck of old Celtic tarot cards on the coffee table, the room could have been mistaken for a therapist’s office.

  “Now,” Hattie started, her tone soft and soothing, “why don’t you tell me what’s wrong.”

  The woman stopped crying. She looked up at Hattie through bloodshot eyes and exclaimed, “I’m Tucker Reese’s girlfriend. Well was, he’s dead.” Then she muttered more to herself, “I can’t really get used to that. I was just with him the other night. Now, he’s gone.” She began to sob again.

  Hattie knew Tucker had girlfriends on the side. That wasn’t a secret to anyone in town. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m Roxy, by the way. I just needed someone to talk to. I think I might know who killed Tucker.” The woman sat back on the couch and took a deep breath.

  “Shouldn’t you go to the police with this information? I’m not sure how I can help?”

  Roxy rubbed her temples and whined, “I can’t right now. I need you to do that thing you do, talk to his ghost or whatever, and tell me if I’m correct. I don’t want to accuse the wrong person.”

  “It doesn’t really work that way. I’m not a medium so I don’t talk to or see the dead,” Hattie lied.

  “You really haven’t seen Tucker or talked to him since he died?”

  Hattie ignored the question and countered, “Why don’t you just tell me what you know, and then we can look at the situation with my cards and see what I can get.”

  “How much is it? I don’t have a lot of money.” Roxy paused, and then started crying again. “Actually, now that Tucker’s dead, all his money goes to that cold fish Lizzie. He was paying my rent and for my car. I don’t know what I’m go
ing to do now.”

  Hattie didn’t mean to, but she rolled her eyes. All the spell work in the world couldn’t help women like Roxy who made poor decision after poor decision. Hattie waved her hand. “No charge. Why do you think you know who killed Tucker?”

  “Because Tucker told me he was worried,” Roxy explained. She sat more upright on the couch and crossed her legs. She looked at Hattie and explained as calmly as Hattie thought she could. “Tucker had been looking into something that the cops didn’t even know about. He had stumbled onto something at the St. Joseph’s Catholic Parish. Tucker said there was something funny about the new priest. Tucker said he was up to no good. But he didn’t tell the cops because he said he hadn’t figured it out completely yet.”

  The priest. Hattie knew there was something with Fr. McNally and now Roxy confirmed it. “Do you know if anyone else knew what Tucker was looking into?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me that. Tucker had been watching the priest for a while. Tucker was obsessed.”

  “Is that all Tucker said?”

  “Yeah, and now Tucker’s dead,” Roxy said. Then she looked worried. “Do you think I’m in danger?”

  “I don’t know,” Hattie responded honestly. She was trying to think about what else she should ask. She also wondered how much Inslee knew and was now protecting the priest. Hattie pressed, “Anything else? Even the smallest details could help.”

  Roxy thought for a few moments and added, “Tucker met with a few people at night in parking lots. He never told me who, but he’d call and tell me he had another meeting. Tucker said he was getting close, very close. He said it was going to be a scandal that would rock the city, hell maybe even the entire nation. As soon as I heard Tucker was dead, I knew this was the cause.”

  Hattie asked the woman if she’d be willing to talk to Harper and Jackson. Roxy agreed, but she didn’t want to go to the cops. Hattie assured her that was fine, for now at least.

  Then Hattie did a reading on the situation. All she could confirm was that yes there were secrets surrounding the parish – deception, destruction and death. Hattie did another reading for Roxy about where things were headed for her now that Tucker wasn’t going to be able to support her. Hattie couldn’t get a read on the woman’s life. The cards just kept coming back the same as before – deception, destruction and death. She tried twice more and the cards were the same.

  “What’s the matter?” Roxy asked with concern in her voice.

  “I don’t know,” Hattie replied puzzled. “The cards are just showing the same. Come back in a couple of days when the energy is cleared and we can try again.”

  Roxy agreed and then left as abruptly as she had come into Hattie’s shop.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jackson and Harper were in his truck driving through the streets of Little Rock headed to visit Lizzie Reese. According to Judy, Tucker Reese had bought a five-thousand-square-foot, six-bedroom home in West Little Rock nearly eight years ago. His widow would inherit that now.

  They were nearly there, and Harper wished they had thought to stop and pick something up to bring to the house. Even though Harper knew they were only going to question Lizzie, that was no reason to show up empty-handed. She was raised with manners. Turning to Jackson, Harper said hesitantly, “Could we circle back and stop at the market? I want to pick up a Bundt cake or something.”

  Jackson gave her a sideways glance. “You want to bring a homicide suspect a cake? I don’t think that’s an interrogation technique.”

  “We aren’t barbarians,” Harper said dramatically. “We have no idea if Lizzie had anything to do with Tucker’s death, and she’s a widow. She’s in mourning. We can’t barge in there like the cops. We need to finesse this.”

  “Who am I to deny a lady a cake,” Jackson said sarcastically. He turned the truck around and went to Kroger on Chenal.

  Twenty minutes later, Jackson and Harper were standing in front of the massive double wooden doors that were the grand entrance to the home. They rang the bell and waited. A few minutes later the door was answered by a disheveled-looking man who didn’t seem to belong in a home this size or with this much opulence. He looked like he hadn’t showered, his eyes were bloodshot, and he reeked of alcohol. Harper guessed it was Drew, Lizzie’s brother.

  “Can I help you?” he barked not making eye contact with either of them.

  “We’re looking for Lizzie Reese. Is she home?” Harper asked politely, the cake in her hands.

  “Yeah, yeah,” the man said and ran a hand through his unwashed blond locks. For a man in his early sixties, he was trim and had a full head of white-blond hair. He stepped out of the way and motioned for them to come in.

  If the sheer size of the house didn’t give away how much money Tucker Reese had, the interior surely did. No expense had been too much. The marble flooring in the wide-open foyer ran up the grand staircase to the second floor. The home clearly had been designed with every luxury and detail in mind. Lizzie had elegant taste.

  “Who’s here, Andrew?” a woman called from the formal living room, which was off to the left of the foyer.

  “It’s some people, Lizzie,” Drew said. He looked at Harper. “They brought a store-bought cake.”

  Harper felt small and ill-prepared for the meeting. The reality was, Harper might very well have the same amount of money, if not more than the Reeses, given her sizable trust fund, but at the moment, she felt cheap.

  “Stopping by was spur of the moment,” Harper said as a way of explanation for the cake, which was actually a lovely flower-designed round vanilla cake.

  “Dear, I can’t hear you,” Lizzie called from the living room. “Please come in. I’m just resting given the circumstance.”

  Drew turned and started to walk toward the living room. Harper and Jackson followed. The living room had light gray oversized furniture and a huge fireplace. Lizzie was sitting at the far end of the room in a chaise with a blanket covering her legs. She set down her book when they came in. Lizzie looked them over head to foot and asked, “Are you with the police department or the press?”

  Before they could answer, Lizzie looked at her brother and turned her nose up in disgust. “You look like a dirty mess. I’ve told you before, you can’t run around my house like that. Go shower and pull yourself together, and take the cake with you. Put it with the others.”

  Drew took the cake from Harper’s hands and left the room.

  “Now as I started to say, cops or press?”

  Harper took a step forward toward the woman. “Neither, I’m Harper and this is Jackson. I’m Hattie Beauregard’s niece. We came to pay our respects. We are very sorry for your loss.”

  “Oh, you’re the girl that found Tucker,” Lizzie said, connecting the dots. “I know your aunt. She’s a lovely woman. I’ve been to her shop several times. She has some wonderful teas.”

  Lizzie didn’t get up, but instead gestured with her hands towards the small couch near her chaise. “Why don’t you both sit down. I’m so sorry about my brother. He has no manners. It’s like we didn’t grow up in the same family.”

  Turning to Jackson, Lizzie commented, “You’re quite handsome, but I’m sure many women tell you that. Are you Hattie’s neighbor? The one that’s an Army Colonel?”

  Jackson nodded. “Retired. I just moved here a few months back. And thank you for the compliment.”

  Before there was any time for awkward silence or Harper had a chance to ask a question, Lizzie clasped her hands together and leveled a look on them. “I didn’t kill my husband if that’s what you’re curious about. The cops were already here. Reporters were already here. If I were going to kill Tucker, and trust me he deserved it, it wouldn’t have been such a spectacle. Unlike Tucker who was all flash and no grace, I’d have the good sense not to make a public debacle of his death. I was here with a good friend that night. The police have already checked.”

  Harper was completely taken aback by the woman’s words, but she rela
ted to them from her own recent circumstance. It was Jackson though who recovered before Harper did. He asked, “Do you know who’d want to kill your husband?”

  “We never had children,” Lizzie began. “I wasn’t able to, and so for most of our marriage, we have lived a life of luxury. I focused on my charity work, and Tucker on building an empire. He’s also cheated since before we were married. Of course, I didn’t find that out until later. I think the better question is who didn’t want him dead.”

  Pointing at them, she added, “I have my suspects though.”

  “And who might that be?” Jackson inquired. He sat forward on the seat, giving Lizzie his full attention.

  Lizzie held up two fingers. “There’s his mistress Roxy. Tucker just ended the affair last week. She was getting too expensive. I don’t know what he ever saw in her anyway. But Roxy, and oh what a name, was quite angry when the affair ended as you can imagine. Now whether she’d kill him or had him killed, I don’t know, but I’d be looking at her first if I had anything to say with what the police are doing.”

  Lizzie then said, “And there is all that mess with his secret investigation. Tucker didn’t go into detail with me, but he was gone a lot. He was holed up in his office at all hours. Tucker muttered to himself more than usual. He was spooked. Caught up in something.”

  Harper looked to Jackson and then back at Lizzie. “Do you have any idea what that might be?” Harper asked.

  “All I know is it had something do with the St. Joseph’s Catholic Parish, but I don’t know anything else. My husband did not talk to me about his investigations, and that one was very hush hush as you can imagine.”

  Lizzie looked over Jackson and whispered, “Could you get up and see if my brother is in the hallway listening in?”

  Jackson got up and went out into the hall. He came back shaking his head. “All clear.”

  Lizzie lowered her voice. She waved them closer to her. Then Lizzie said, “I think my brother is up to no good like usual. Tucker and my brother never got along. Tucker wanted him out of this house. With Tucker gone, I can’t have that kind of chaos now. I also have no idea where Andrew was the night Tucker was murdered because he wasn’t here at home.”