by Meg London
The woman stuck her arm out the window and gestured vaguely toward the north. “You know that new development they just finished building over that way? With all those big houses?”
Emma had a vague idea, but she figured she could always look up the Rowlands’ address the way she had Gladys’s.
She thanked the woman and turned away, digging her cell from her purse as she walked toward her car. She slid into the front seat and brought up the Internet on her phone. In a few minutes she had the Rowlands’ address and was heading in that direction.
The woman was right about the development—it was brand-new and all the houses were enormous. She found the right house easily enough. Landscapers were rolling sod across the barren front yard while another crew was planting a birch tree along the walk leading to the back of the house.
Emma skirted the workers carefully and went up to the front door. Her knock was answered almost immediately by a harassed-looking woman in her forties. She was wearing a tennis outfit, and a racket was propped against the chest in the foyer.
“I thought you were Gladys,” she said when she saw Emma. “Although why she would come to the front door, I can’t imagine.”
Somewhere inside Emma could hear a toddler yelling for juice.
“Keep your shirt on. I’ll be right there,” the woman called over her shoulder. “I can’t imagine what’s happened. Gladys should have been here by now. She always watches Hannah for me when I have my lesson.” She gestured toward the racket, then turned back and stared at Emma. “What do you want?”
“I’m sorry. I was actually hoping to catch Gladys. Her neighbor said she would be here.”
“She should be. I have no idea where she’s gotten to. She hasn’t called, either.”
“I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” Emma started backing away.
The woman slammed the door shut without another word.
What now? Emma thought as she drove back toward the shop. She hoped nothing had happened to Gladys. The thought gave her a chill, and she rolled her window up.
Arabella looked up expectantly when Emma got back to Sweet Nothings. Emma shook her head. “Gladys wasn’t home. I managed to find out where she works on Thursdays, but she didn’t show up today. No one seems to know where she is. Her neighbor hadn’t seen her all day today or yesterday.”
“That’s odd.” Arabella shrugged. “Perhaps she’s gone away for some reason.”
Emma was about to answer when the door opened.
“Hey y’all,” Angel Roy called out. “I’m here to do me some shopping. I’ve got a new squeeze and I need something to impress him with.” She smiled coyly. “Other than the usual.” She wiggled her rear end suggestively. “Men do like their presents gift wrapped.”
“You’re absolutely right.” Arabella hesitated with her hand on a drawer. “Are you thinking of something vintage or contemporary?”
“This boy’s the contemporary type.”
“Color?”
“Something pastel and pretty.”
“I have just the thing.” Arabella opened the drawer, took out several items and displayed them on the counter.
“Oooh,” Angel squealed. “Those sure are pretty.” She picked up a pair of the bikini panties. “Tyler’ll like these for sure.”
“What does Tyler do?” Emma asked.
“He works over at the car wash on Market Street.”
Emma wondered when Angel was going to find someone as ambitious as she was. This Tyler didn’t sound like that sort.
“Oh, did I mention Tyler happens to own the car wash? And he’s thinking about opening another on the other side of town. Tyler and me are of like minds, that’s for sure.”
“What about Tom Mulligan? You dated for quite awhile,” Arabella asked as Emma pulled a few items from the display case and placed them on the counter along with the things Arabella had chosen.
“Oh, we’re still friends. No hard feelings. As a matter of fact, I ran into him at that bar out on Route 69 last night, and he couldn’t have been nicer. Oh!” Angel squealed as she held a lacy bustier up to herself and admired the effect in the mirror. “Get this. Tom told me that the police were around his shop yesterday asking all kinds of questions.”
“Is Tom in trouble?” Emma asked.
“No, not at all. They were wondering if anyone had brought in a car for some bodywork. Seems like there was a hit-and-run accident Tuesday night.”
“Really.” Emma put down the garment she was holding.
“That’s terrible.” Arabella tut-tutted. “I don’t understand how someone could do that.”
“Neither do I.” Angel gathered up some of the things she wanted to try on. “The poor woman was on a bicycle, and this car hit her and then boom”—she snapped her fingers—“it took off like that.”
“Is she okay?” Emma’s heart had started to beat hard.
Angel shook her head. “No, she’s dead. Didn’t even make it to the hospital, poor thing.”
“You don’t happen to know—” Emma began.
“She did work for the Porters on occasion. Both the old lady and the daughter-in-law. As a matter of fact, she was helping serve at some shindig Mrs. Porter was having that night.”
“Is there any chance the police mentioned her name?”
Angel shook her head. “No, but the main squeeze of a friend of mine works in the police department. Animal control, but he keeps his ear to the ground. Said her name was Gladys Smit.”
BY the time Angel left, the coffers of Sweet Nothings were considerably richer. Obviously Angel spared no expense when reeling in a new beau. She carried off two bags full of beautiful lacy pastel undergarments to tempt her latest conquest.
Emma looked at the figures on the register. “Angel’s salon must be doing very well if she can spend money like that.”
A shadow crossed over Arabella’s face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, really. It’s just that I feel guilty for keeping you here with me. You’ve given up your job in New York where I’m sure you made much more money and had lots more fun.”
Emma threw her arms around her aunt. “I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything in the world.”
Arabella squeezed her back. “Just so you’re sure.”
Emma thought of Brian. “I’m positive.”
“What do you make of that hit-and-run?” Arabella turned to Emma.
“I can’t believe it. Do you think it really was an accident?” She looked at Arabella.
“I don’t know, dear. It seems awfully coincidental, don’t you think? Here’s Gladys about to tell you who she saw going out into the garden, and the next minute she’s being run off her bicycle. Of course, coincidences do happen. All the time, I’m afraid.”
“Or, maybe someone else had it in for Gladys. Although she hardly seemed the type to rack up enemies like notches in a belt.”
“I thought she was even blander than vanilla ice cream. But you know that saying—still waters run deep. Is there any merit in checking with her neighbors? Perhaps an old beau had it in for her or she got herself mixed up with the wrong people somehow?”
“I can certainly try. Do you think Francis would be able to get any information through the Bureau?”
“Possibly. I can always ask him.”
“How is his undercover work going, by the way?”
Arabella’s face brightened. “He said that so far it has been nothing but boredom and sore feet from making rounds night after night. I’m so relieved. I was quite terrified when he told me about it.”
* * *
EMMA and Arabella were about to close up shop when the telephone rang. Arabella grabbed the receiver. She listened for several seconds, then put her hand over the mouthpiece.
“Sylvia’s calling to see if we can come over for a drink.”
“Sure.”
Arabella spoke briefly with Sylvia and hung up the phone. “Do you mind if I drive? It will give me an excuse to refus
e that incendiary vodka Sylvia always offers us.”
Ten minutes later, they’d finished closing Sweet Nothings for the night and were headed toward Sunny Days in Arabella’s car.
Sylvia answered their knock immediately. Emma suspected that she had been standing by the door waiting.
“Come in, come in.” The string of gold bangles on her wrists jingled melodically as Sylvia waved her arms at them.
Emma and Arabella were somewhat surprised to see Earl sitting in an easy chair, looking as if he quite belonged, his long legs stretched out in front of him, a small glass in his hand and his cane leaning within easy reach against an end table.
“Pardon me if I don’t get up.” He smiled apologetically. “It’s getting harder and harder to get out of chairs these days.”
“You need one of those chairs where the seat pops up and pushes you to your feet.” Sylvia reached for the iced vodka bottle on the coffee table.
“I’m not quite ready for that yet.”
“You mean you’re not ready to admit you’re ready for that yet,” Sylvia corrected.
Earl laughed. “You’re probably right.” He gestured toward the bottle in Sylvia’s hand. “Enough of that. We’re ignoring our guests.”
Emma’s ears perked up at the word we.
“None for me, thanks. I’m driving.” Arabella held up her hand.
“Only a sip for me,” Emma said. “I have to get some work done later tonight.”
Sylvia filled a tiny glass for Emma and refilled Earl’s. “What can I get you?” She looked at Arabella.
“I’m fine for now. I’m excited to hear what your news is.”
Emma looked at Earl, comfortably ensconced in his chair, and noticed the way Sylvia looked at him every couple of minutes, and began to wonder if perhaps Sylvia had found love at Sunny Days.
Sylvia smiled at Emma and Arabella. “Thank goodness Crystal Davis is gone. That Decker woman still isn’t talking to me, but some of the others have come around.”
“Could it be that she was a little upset the time you substituted salt for sugar in the bowl on her table?” Earl cocked a bristly white eyebrow at Sylvia.
“Oh, that.” Sylvia waved a hand dismissively. “All in good fun, you know.”
“Do you still think that Crystal is the one most likely to have killed Jessica?” Arabella said. “She had to have really been suffering, poor thing. Most of the items she stole were useless to her—or at least she wasn’t making any use of them by stuffing them in that cupboard. It must have been some kind of mental quirk—a compulsion she couldn’t control. And to have Jessica make her life miserable because of it probably only made it worse.”
“I’ve heard of people like that.” Sylvia nodded. “They’re like those birds that collect shiny objects.”
“You mean magpies?” Earl said.
“If Crystal did kill Jessica, then it seems likely she also killed Gladys. To prevent her from telling anyone that she saw Crystal go out into the garden that afternoon.”
“But how to prove it?” Arabella asked.
“If we could find her car…see if there’s been damage done. The police have been asking around all the local body shops, but what if Crystal’s keeping it hidden in her garage?”
“Can we find out where she lives?”
“I don’t see why not. I’ll check online and see if she’s listed.”
“If you do discover something”—Arabella shook a finger at Emma—“you’d better go straight to Detective Walker and let him handle it. If we’re right, Crystal has killed twice already. What’s to stop her from doing it again?”
* * *
EMMA had no trouble finding Crystal’s address the next morning. The difficulty was going to be in locating Crystal’s car if it turned out she lived in an apartment building without assigned parking. She kept her fingers virtually crossed as she followed the directions she’d printed off the computer.
It turned out that Crystal had a small condo in a development called Sunny Farms. How ironic, Emma thought, to live at Sunny Farms and work at Sunny Days, especially when Crystal’s life appeared to have been anything but sunny.
Each condo was a two-story town house with five units attached in a row. Crystal’s was smack in the middle. There was no garage, but carports were across from each set of condos and were numbered the same as the units themselves. Emma checked the number on Crystal’s place again and then turned around to find the matching number on the carport.
She found it easily enough. There was space for two cars. Unfortunately, both were empty. Had Crystal hidden her car somewhere else? Surely, Crystal knew the police would be looking for a vehicle with damage to the body. Would she take a chance on being stopped while out running errands?
Emma decided to check and see if Crystal was home. If Crystal was home, then she had most likely found somewhere else to keep her car. If she wasn’t…well that wouldn’t lead to much of anything conclusive. But it was still worth a try.
Emma climbed the three steps to the bright blue front door of Crystal’s condo and rang the bell. She could hear it pealing inside. She waited hopefully…but nothing. The curtain in the square picture window didn’t move, and no footsteps echoed down the hall.
Emma was turning away, with a deep sense of disappointment, when a young man on a bicycle pulled up to the town house next door. He propped the bike against the fence, pulled off his helmet and began to climb the front steps.
“Hello, there!” Emma called, waving at the young man.
He stopped on the landing and turned around with a curious look on his face. He had a mop of curly hair and enormous Elton John–style glasses.
“Do you know the woman who lives here?” Emma gestured toward Crystal’s town house.
“You mean Crystal?”
“Yes. I’m trying to get in touch with her.”
“You won’t find her at home. I saw her loading up her car earlier. Packed that baby to the gills. Boxes, suitcases, clothes on hangers. The works. Looked like she was moving out, not going on vacation.”
“Moving out, you say?”
The young man raised his eyebrows above the thick, dark frames of his glasses. “Don’t know for sure. Just hazarding a guess considering the state of her car. Could be she was headed to Goodwill to make a donation.”
“That doesn’t seem likely.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t.”
“Did you get a good look at her car? Could you see if it had been damaged in any way?”
“Damaged? Not that I could see. I only saw the one side as she was pulling out, and far as I can recollect, it looked to be all in one piece.”
“Do you know Crystal well?” The sun had come out from behind a cloud, and Emma shielded her eyes with her hand.
“Not particularly, no. She kept herself to herself as my Mamaw used to say.”
“She wasn’t friendly?”
“She wasn’t unfriendly. We just didn’t have many occasions to talk. Occasionally we’d run into each other by the recycling bin, but that was about it.”
“Listen, could you do me a favor?”
The young man cocked his head. “Depends.”
Emma scrabbled in her purse, pulled out a Sweet Nothings card, scribbled her cell phone number on it and handed it to him. “When Crystal comes back, would you mind giving me a call? I want to catch up with her.”
The young man was about to pocket the card when he stopped and looked suspiciously at Emma. “Not a bill collector, are you?”
“Oh no. Just an…old friend.”
“Doesn’t seem to be any harm in it then. Sure.” He tucked the card into his shirt pocket.
“Thanks.”
Emma returned to her car and got behind the wheel. She was pulling away from Sunny Farms when she had a thought. If Crystal was responsible for the hit-and-run that killed Gladys on Tuesday night after the trunk show at Marjorie Porter’s, how did she get to work on Wednesday? Had she taken a chance on her car not b
eing spotted? Or, had she assumed the police investigation wouldn’t have gotten that far so quickly? As soon as Emma had a moment, she was going to go back to Sunny Days and see if anyone remembered seeing Crystal pull into the parking lot Wednesday morning.
* * *
EMMA’S cell phone was ringing as she walked into Sweet Nothings. Arabella was already behind the counter showing a customer some vintage bed jackets. Emma ducked into the back room, retrieved her cell from the bottom of her purse and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Emma? It’s Brian.”
As usual, Emma’s heart did a funny blip when she heard Brian’s voice.
“Do you know what day tomorrow is?”
Emma frowned. “It’s Saturday, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. And do you know what Saturday is?”
“Ummm, not really. It’s a day off for some people, but we’re open on Saturdays.”
“Well down South here, we still call Saturday night, date night.”
Emma felt her heart rate speed up. There was a humorous tone to Brian’s voice, but she thought she detected a bit of nervousness, too.
“So I’m hoping you’ll consider having dinner with me.”
For one second, Emma thought of playing coy, but then she decided that that was not how she wanted her relationship with Brian to go. Instead she said, “I’d love to.”
“Great.”
Emma easily detected the note of relief in Brian’s voice.
“How does L’Etoile sound?”
“Sure.” L’Etoile was the fanciest restaurant in town. Emma and Brian had been once before when they celebrated the renovation of Sweet Nothings.
“I’ll pick you up at seven o’clock,” Brian said. “Oh, and Liz is loaning me her station wagon so you won’t have to ride in my pickup truck.”
EMMA floated through the rest of the day. Her disappointment over not finding Crystal’s car faded into thoughts of Brian’s last kiss and hopes that he might kiss her again. Saturday night seemed an eternity away.
They were ready to close for the day when the door opened and Liz stuck her head in. “Hey.” Her tone was serious and so was her expression.
Was something wrong? Emma looked at her friend in concern.
