Mitch stood up, dazed. His mind was still spinning after taking in so much new information. He held a hand out to Kevin. “Kevin, thank you so much for your help.”
“Hey, no problem. It was really great to meet JoJo’s guy. Finally,” said Kevin, pumping Mitch’s hand.
Johanna opened the office door and shoved Mitch out. “Goodbye, Kevin.” She practically spat his name.
A fter Mitch dropped Johanna off at her apartment, she raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Mitch had had to get back to work, but she had a brilliant idea, and she couldn’t wait to get back up to her apartment.
She threw open the door to find her apartment destroyed. Shredded newspaper, pieces of unopened mail, and throw pillows littered the floor. The books that had been neatly stacked on her bookshelves had all been removed and were now strewn about in disarray. Two end tables were on their sides, and a lamp had been separated from its shade. In the kitchen, Rocky’s entire box of dog food was dumped over with the lid popped off. Round dog food marbles created a walking hazard across the floor. Whitley was lying prone on the sofa sobbing, and Rocky had Esmerelda firmly ensconced in his mouth. Her fur was completely sopping wet and she had the most furious scowl on her face. Rocky glanced up at Johanna with big sad eyes.
“What in the…?”
Whitley’s head sprang up when she heard Johanna’s voice. “Oh, Hanna! Thank God you’re home!”
Johanna ran into the room, and Whitley threw her skinny little arms around Johanna’s shoulders. “Whit! What happened? Were we robbed?”
Whitley sniffed. “No, I just can’t handle these two. They are at each other’s throats all day long! He wants to lick on her. She wants to scratch on him. They fight like an old married couple and I can’t take it anymore!” she sobbed, raking her face with her fingernails.
Johanna’s jaw dropped. Was she serious? All of this had been caused by Rocky and Esmerelda’s antics? “Well, you guys can just clean this whole house while I’m gone.”
Whitley stopped crying and her head tipped back up. “You’re going out?!” She clasped her hands together in prayer and looked up at Johanna with big sad eyes. “Oh, please take me with you! I can’t stay here alone with these two. I can’t!”
Johanna frowned. “You let a dog and a cat destroy my apartment, Whitley. I’m going to a lot of trouble to solve this mystery. A mystery that I didn’t even ask for. You’re staying here and cleaning this place up.”
“B-but…”
Johanna shook her head. “No buts. Esmerelda can help.”
“How am I supposed to help?” she howled. “Your monster over here won’t let me go. I’ve been trying for an hour to distract him, but he keeps coming back to me.”
Johanna’s hands sprang up into the air. “Then why didn’t you just go lock yourself in my bedroom until I got home?”
“Rocky figured out how to open the door,” sobbed Whitley. Her hair hadn’t been touched all day. She wore the grossest sweat suit that Johanna owned, and she didn’t have on a single bit of makeup. She was starting to look like Johanna looked after a week or two without leaving the apartment except to walk Rocky.
“Then you could have put Es in the hallway. She’d have found somewhere to hide until I got back.”
“Have you been in your hallway? If this is the best apartment building you can afford, I think you need a new career,” said Esmerelda, giving Rocky a dirty look as he sucked on her back end.
Johanna lifted a brow. “I think you could get out of that if you really wanted to. It’s not like Rocky’s really chewing on you or anything. He’s just kind of sucking on your fur.”
“Well, I mean, yeah, I could get away, but what’s the point? He’s just going to chase me again. I’m tired of running. I’ve been running all day.”
Johanna pointed a finger at the grey cat. “You know what I think? I think you kind of enjoy the attention from Rocky. I think you like him playing with you. It gives you something entertaining to do.”
Esmerelda turned around and swiped her claws at Rocky’s nose, making him whine almost immediately. She stood up and sauntered over to Johanna. “I most certainly do not enjoy playing with this… this… cretin! He’s disgusting. I wouldn’t want him to spit on me if I were on fire!”
“Say what you want, but I think you’re sweet on him,” said Johanna with a crooked grin.
Esmerelda’s green eyes widened. “Sweet on a dog?! You’re crazier than he is!”
Johanna lifted a shoulder. “Whatever. So, do you two want to hear what I found out today?”
Whitley nodded excitedly and perched herself on the arm of the sofa. “Are you kidding? That’s what I’ve been waiting for!”
“Well, here’s the deal. I found out that Felicia did make it to the property showing on the day that she died, and she even showed it to Dutch Erickson.”
“They both showed up? But didn’t he say—”
“He lied,” interrupted Johanna. “But, shockingly, he got in his car and drove away after.”
“So it wasn’t him?”
Johanna shrugged. “It doesn’t look like it. However, there was a car that followed Felicia down the street after she left the house. No one knows for sure if the car was following her or just going in the same direction at the same time, but I’m going to run down there and do a little snooping around.”
“Run down where?”
“Back down to Bank Street.”
Whitley stood up excitedly and swiped a hand across her nose. “Oh, take me with you! I wanna go!”
Johanna grimaced. “Whit, I hate to tell you this, but you look pretty gross.”
Whitley looked down at herself and then back up Johanna slowly. “So? No one can see me anyway.”
“I know, but you’ll feel better if you look better. Maybe you should just go take a shower or something,” suggested Johanna.
Esmerelda leapt up onto the back of the sofa and then into Johanna’s arms, where she put a paw up to feel Johanna’s forehead. “Do you have a fever? What have you done with our old roommate?”
Johanna brushed Esmerelda’s paw off her head and tossed the sticky cat down onto the floor. “What do you mean?”
“Literally a week ago when we showed up, you looked exactly like Whit does right now.” She glanced over at her sister, who sniffled again. “Worse, actually. You hadn’t washed your hair in weeks. You were wearing dirty clothes. No makeup. You were like a recluse and hadn’t left your apartment in weeks. You were scared to talk to anyone. Now look at you. You’re running around town, solving mysteries, following up on clues. Your hair is clean and styled. You’re wearing actual pants. You have lipstick on and eyeliner. You sort of look like a real person.”
Whitley’s brows furrowed as she scowled at her sister. “Are you trying to say that I don’t look like a real person?”
Esmerelda sighed. “You’re a mess, Whit. I’m embarrassed to be in the same apartment as you.”
“As if you can talk? You smell like garbage and your fur has little bits of dog food stuck in it.”
Esmerelda lowered her ears and pointed a paw at the dog. “That’s because of him! It’s his fault I stink.”
Johanna buttoned her coat back on and then pointed at her two roommates. “Here’s the deal. This apartment better be spic and span by the time I get back from the West Village. If it’s not, you can both find someone else in the building to bunk with tonight.”
“Uh!” whined Whitley. “That’s not fair! I didn’t make the mess.”
“You allowed them to make the mess. That makes you complicit.”
“But I wanna go follow up on clues with you!” begged Whitley. She groaned. “Ugh, if I had my magic wand it would only take me a minute to clean this mess up. Can’t you wait for me?”
“Nope. I can’t. I’ll be back soon. Have this place spotless!” Johanna shot them all warning looks before going back out into the hallway and slamming the door shut behind her.
25
&nb
sp; J ohanna flipped up the collar of her wool coat as she walked down the familiar tree-lined street. She’d been in this very neighborhood just a few short days ago, but today something was different. Today she couldn’t stop a chill from zipping across her arms and legs and pebbling her skin. Johanna was sure it wasn’t the December air making the tiny hairs on her body stand on end. Instead, it was the realization that Johanna was walking the very same path that Felicia Marshall had walked on the day she had been murdered.
Thanks to Kevin’s help, Johanna felt closer than ever to the truth. Felicia had been alive when she’d left the house on Bank Street, and Dutch Erickson had driven away in his fancy black car. But surveillance video showed a strange car. Had it followed her? Or had that only been a coincidence? And if it had been following her, whose was it? The signage on the car almost looked like it could have been a Four Seasons Realty graphic, but that wasn’t enough information to go on. Johanna and Mitch needed more.
With her newsboy cap pulled low over her eyes, Johanna had to lean her head back on her neck to see the tops of each of the buildings on Bank Street. She was determined to find any other addresses that had surveillance cameras facing the street. Those that did, she photographed, jotting down their address and noting any signs that proclaimed their security system provider. It was her hope that perhaps she could get Kevin more places to check. Maybe they could put together a video timeline of Felicia’s walk back to her car. Then they’d know what had really happened all those years ago.
Spying a camera installed beneath the soffits of a two-story walk-up, Johanna stopped, took a photo, and then put notes into her phone. “ADT,” she murmured to herself as she typed. She shoved the phone back into her pocket and continued on her path towards Dutch Erickson’s house. As she walked, she noticed a black car with completely tinted windows pull up to the curb just up the street. Curious, Johanna stopped walking and trained her eyes on the car. It couldn’t be?!
The door swung open and a pair of black dress shoes emerged, followed by a pair of legs in black suit pants. Johanna’s heart beat wildly in her chest. When the rest of the body emerged, she sucked in her breath. It was Dutch Erickson! Her jaw hung open.
Instinctively, Johanna hid herself behind a small tree, which did little to hide her body but made her feel somewhat invisible. She peered around the tree and watched as Dutch bounded up the stairs to his house, as he’d done in the surveillance video, and then disappeared inside. She glanced over at the car. Exhaust gas spilled from the muffler. It was still running. He wasn’t going to be in there for long. She’d have to hurry.
Johanna skirted around the skinny tree and practically ran up the uneven sidewalk, careful not to stumble over the squares uprooted by tree growth and the expansion and contraction of water and ice over the years. She felt like the Pink Panther as she snuck along the street, hoping the driver of the black car wouldn’t notice her as she tiptoed up the front steps to Dutch’s house.
With her pulse beating a deafeningly steady rhythm in her ears, she sucked up her breath and knocked on the door before she could chicken out. Johanna held her breath until the door opened.
“Yes?” It was Dutch. He’d actually answered his own door. Did famous people actually answer their own doors? Johanna had assumed they had people for that—and people to hold their umbrellas in the rain, and people to run to the corner and get them a coffee and a bagel in the mornings.
So surprised that he had answered, Johanna blew out the breath she’d been holding. It emerged from her lips with an enormous puh sound.
Dutch blinked back at her, wiped a bit of spittle from his face, and then furrowed his brows.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” gushed Johanna, now suddenly more embarrassed than afraid.
She felt her pockets for a tissue and found a wadded-up used one in her pocket. She reached it out to him in an offer of apology.
“No, thank you,” he said stiffly. “Is there something I can help you with? I’m just home for a moment…”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Erickson, I do need a moment of your time. I just have a few questions.”
At the sound of his name, he began to close the door. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid, I don’t speak to reporters at my home. Call my office.”
Johanna’s mind blanked as her hand shot out to stop the door from closing.
Dutch let out an annoyed sigh. “Ma’am, I asked you politely to call my office for an interview. Please don’t make me call the police.”
“I’m not a reporter, and I’m not here for an interview, but you’re welcome to call the police. And then you can explain to them why you neglected to report your meeting with Felicia Marshall on the day that she was killed, and maybe explain why her body was found only blocks away from your house.” The second the words escaped her lips, Johanna’s eyes widened. Where had that come from?!
Dutch stared at her with keen interest then. “Who are you?”
“I’m someone seeking justice for Felicia.” Johanna had to stick her hands in her pockets so he wouldn’t see them trembling with fear. Her stomach turned even as she spoke the strong words, making her want to vomit in the leafless bush next to his front step.
“Yes,” he agreed, raising a single brow. “I gathered that.” He poked his head out the door, scanned the sidewalk in both directions and then stepped back into his house, allowing her entry. “Come in. Hurry up before some paparazzi see you coming in here and assume I’m having an affair.”
Johanna suddenly realized she’d been unprepared for this offer. Go into his house? Just because his black car had driven away from the curb the day that Felicia had died didn’t mean that he was cleared of her murder in her eyes. He could have circled back and picked her up. There was no way to know what had really happened and now she was being invited into the lion’s den! Oh! Why hadn’t she brought Rocky with her after all?
“I—I …” Her mouth gaped open as she stuttered.
He stared back at her with pursed lips. “Do you want to discuss Felicia Marshall, or don’t you?”
Johanna nodded curtly and then took a step inside. She’d have to deal with the consequences of her actions later. She only prayed that there wouldn’t be consequences. “Lots of people know I’m here,” she told him.
He spun on his heel and motioned for her to follow him. “I’m not going to kill you. I didn’t kill Felicia Marshall either,” he added, leading her down a posh hallway of all-white decor, rugs, and furniture set against dark wood floors and trim. He brought her into the kitchen and pointed at the bar. “Have a seat. Would you like a water?”
She shook her head so rapidly she was sure her brain had been scrambled in the process. “N-no. Thank you.” Would a killer offer her water? She wasn’t sure.
He turned anyway and grabbed himself a bottle of water, cracked it open, and took a sip. He leaned back against his long granite counter and stared at her. “Okay. Who are you?”
“My name is Johanna Hughes.”
“You were a friend of Felicia’s?”
“I’m a friend of Mitch’s,” she said. “I never met Felicia.”
“Who’s Mitch?”
“He was her fiancé.”
“Oh, right. The guy who called me the other day?”
Johanna nodded.
A smile covered Dutch’s face then. “Ahh. I get it. You’re dating him. He can’t let go of her. So you’re trying to solve her murder so he can fall in love with you.” His eyes swung up towards the ceiling. Then he grabbed his cell phone. “That would make an amazing song, wouldn’t it?”
Johanna’s mouth hung open, “I—uh…”
“Gimme a sec. I gotta write this down before I lose it.”
Johanna watched as he typed with his thumbs. “I-I’m not dating Mitch,” she said nervously. She looked down at her hands. “Well, I mean, we’ve had breakfast together, b-but that wasn’t a date. That was just, I don’t know…breakfast, I guess.”
Dutch furrowed his brows. “You had breakfast togethe
r?”
She nodded.
“He invited?”
She nodded again.
“He paid?”
A tiny smile crooked the side of her lips. She nodded a third time.
“Yeah. That was a date. Maybe you haven’t slept together yet, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t dating the guy. Okay, so I think I got this figured out now. Continue.”
Flustered, Johanna ground a mitten into her scalp and tried to think of what to say next. What did they need to know? “We found out Felicia showed you the house,” she finally said. “You lied. You told Mitch she didn’t show up for her appointment. And you certainly didn’t tell him that you bought this house.”
He screwed the cap back on his water bottle and set it on the counter. He rocked his head on his shoulders, cracking his neck. “Alright. You got me. I lied. But I swear I didn’t kill that girl.” He pointed at her. “See? This is exactly why I didn’t go to the cops, and why I lied to your boyfriend—”
“He’s not my boyfriend…” she cut in.
Dutch’s mouth snapped shut and he glared at her. “Oh my God, are we in the seventh grade? Big deal if he’s your boyfriend or he isn’t your boyfriend. Do you want to know what happened between me and Felicia or don’t you?”
Johanna sucked her lips in between her teeth and nodded.
“Alright. So, I texted her earlier that day and asked her to show me the house. She texted back and said alright. We set up a time. I showed up a few minutes late. She was already in the house. I had a meeting to get to, so we looked at the house rather fast, but I knew I liked it. I told her I was interested in putting in an offer. She said great, she’d get the paperwork all worked out. I had to go, so I left. That was it.” He lifted a shoulder. “She stayed behind to lock up, and I drove away. The next time I’m seeing her face is on the news a couple days later.”
Johanna had been studying his face as he talked. She felt sure that he was telling the truth. It helped that the information he provided seemed to match up to the video surveillance footage. “You didn’t come back after you left the house?”
Snow Cold Case: A Mystic Snow Globe Romantic Mystery (The Mystic Snow Globe Mystery Series Book 1) Page 20
