“Reverend Orville took my bible study group to Kansas City to see Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.” Willow dug in her purse and produced a ticket stub. “Look.” She thrust it at Noah. “We had dinner before the show; then afterward we stopped for dessert and coffee before coming home.”
“When was that?” Noah asked as he examined the rectangle of pasteboard Willow had produced, then handed it back to her.
“We left at four thirty and didn’t get back until nearly midnight.”
“Then it seems you’re in the clear,” Noah reassured her. “Do you think Colin might have killed Elise—to protect you?”
“Of course not,” Willow snapped. “What an awful thing to say. You really aren’t as nice a guy as I thought you were.” She opened up her laptop. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“Sure.” Noah stood.
“I’ll think about your advice regarding going to the police.” Willow pinned him with a cold glare. “But I’m trusting you to keep your promise not to discuss this conversation with anyone.”
“Certainly. I won’t tell anyone anything they don’t already know.” As he walked away, he thought to himself, Except that you have an alibi, so you can’t be the killer.
CHAPTER 23
* * *
I can’t believe you and Noah were hooking up in public,” Poppy chortled.
Pretending she didn’t exist, I stalked past her, unlocked the rear entrance, and hurried into the store. She managed to slip inside before I could close the door in her face, but I continued to ignore her and walked over to the desk.
As Poppy dogged my steps, she snickered. “You guys must have been really into it, since you’re both so uptight about public displays of affection.”
Crap! She had me there. I recalled how vehemently I had lectured Poppy about that very subject when she’d been caught last summer skinny-dipping in a nearby pond with some guy she barely knew—pun intended.
“Is Noah as good as he used to be?” Poppy asked, not at all disturbed by my silence. “I remember in high school, you used to make my hair curl describing his kisses.” She made a face. “It was a shame you never let him get much further than that.”
I gave up and spoke to her. “Look. Can we talk about something more important than Noah’s and my sex life—or lack of one? I take it you saw the text from Tryg that Boone is back in jail.”
“That’s why I came to find you,” Poppy countered. “I was so upset and I figured you would be, too. But I guess you had Noah to comfort you.”
“Enough!” I shouted. “I don’t want to discuss Noah right now.”
“Touchy, touchy.” Poppy appeared undisturbed by my outburst. “Anyway, about twenty minutes ago, Mr. and Mrs. St. Onge showed up at the bar in hysterics, and after I finally calmed them down, Tryg called me. He said that the cops got an anonymous tip that the murder weapon was hidden in a drainage ditch a block from the crime scene.”
“But wouldn’t finding the gun be a good thing for Boone?” Before Poppy could answer, I begged, “Please tell me Boone’s prints weren’t on it.” I knew from my own previous experience as a murder suspect that just because your fingerprints were on a murder weapon didn’t mean you were guilty. Conversely, I also knew that the police didn’t always see it that way.
“No prints,” Poppy assured me. “The problem is that whoever told the cops where to find the gun also said that he saw the guy who hid it.”
“Did he name Boone?” I sank into the desk chair. “And why didn’t he come forward sooner?” This was getting worse and worse. “It’s been more than five days since Elise was killed, and I refuse to believe the informant just now heard about the crime.”
“The tipster didn’t say it was Boone, but he described him to a T.” Poppy pulled up a rolling stool and sat down next to me. “And I have no idea why the guy waited so long.”
“Fu—” I’d given up dropping the F bomb when I quit my previous job, but remembering that vow during times of stress was still a challenge. “Did Tryg say if the police charged Boone?”
“He said they hadn’t filed charges yet.” Poppy shook her head. “Remember when Boone was arrested on Saturday, Tryg told us that the cops can hold him twenty-four hours without a case being filed against him?” I nodded and Poppy added, “At least this time, Tryg was able to be there within minutes of Boone being taken into custody, and he forced the cops to formally arrest Boone, so the twenty-four hours started at twelve fifty p.m. today.”
“Which means there’s nothing we can do until tomorrow,” I said to myself. Then I asked Poppy, “Does Tryg still want to meet with us tonight?”
“No.” She shook her head. “He said he needs to research some point in the law. Instead, he wants us to e-mail him a report on everything we’ve learned by noon tomorrow. That way, if the prosecutor indicates that she’ll file a case against Boone, he’ll present our findings to her before she does.”
“Okay.” I pulled the desk phone toward me. “Noah’s going to try to locate Willow this afternoon and talk to her.” I explained how he knew her, then added, “And we need to talk to Lindsey and Colin.”
“How are we going to do that?” Poppy asked. “We don’t know either of them.”
While I dialed the Yager Factory, I told Poppy about Noah’s suggestion for seeing Elise’s coworker. And once I got the ad agency’s number from Vaughn, I phoned Lindsey and set up an appointment to discuss a possible PR campaign for the dime store. When I told her that I would be consulting with a rival firm the next day, she agreed to meet me at seven p.m. at the store.
As I hung up, Poppy said, “That leaves Colin.” She leaned her elbows on the desk. “Any ideas?”
“Nope.” I filled in Poppy on what Max had said about Elise’s husband. “I’m thinking that our best chance might be to catch him somewhere outside of work but in public.” I raised my brows. “We don’t want him to throw another fit at the bank, but we also don’t want to be alone with him.”
“Hmm.” Poppy moved her mouth back and forth for a few seconds, then said, “How about the health club? Someone at the bar mentioned that they were surprised to see him working out there the day after his wife was killed.” She crossed her arms. “Then someone else said that Colin works out at the club every morning from seven to eight, rain or shine, seven days a week.”
“That alone should get him arrested. Who exercises every single day?” Which reminded me, I really needed to get back to doing yoga, even if I couldn’t afford the classes anymore.
“Maybe he’s OCD.” Poppy shrugged. “Or has nothing better to do with his time.”
“Maybe.” Or maybe he was normal, and Poppy and I were lazy. “Anyway. Here’s the plan. I’ll go home and have supper with Gran. Can you meet me back here at a little before seven to help interrogate Lindsey?”
“Definitely. I’ll call in a sub to bartend for me.” Poppy jumped off her stool. “And then we’ll both corner Colin tomorrow morning at the health club. Wear your cutest workout clothes,” she ordered. “He obviously likes the ladies, so we might as well soften him up with our girlish charms.”
“Right, like I have tights and a sexy sports bra in my wardrobe.” I rolled my eyes. “Besides, no one gives me a second look when you’re around.”
“Except Noah and Jake,” Poppy reminded me. “I get the sleazes,” she threw over her shoulder as she flounced out the door, “and you get all the good guys.”
* * *
Gran was looking forward to the evening—Tony and Frieda were coming over to play poker. Happy that she would have company, I helped her get the food on the table.
While we were cleaning up after our meal, I jokingly asked her if Tony could handle two women, and she retorted, “The older the ram, the stiffer the horn.”
Shuddering at that image, I headed back to town. As I drove, Noah called to give me the bad news that Willow had an alibi. He had phoned Reverend Orville, and the minister had confirmed Willow’s story.
Before hanging up, Noah also pointed out that since she wasn’t the murderer, we all needed to keep her identity as the other women secret, and I agreed that there was no reason to ruin her life by gossiping about her.
Noah and I said good-bye just as I parked my car at the store. And while I was letting myself in the back entrance, I realized that since Willow was in the clear, we really needed either Lindsey or Colin to be the killer. We had to find a good suspect to present to the prosecutor or Boone wouldn’t have a chance of avoiding some serious jail time while he waited for his day in court. And if it went as far as a trial, who knew what a jury might decide?
I figured the soda fountain would be the best place to meet with Lindsey, so I made sure it was well stocked with ingredients. My plan was to lull her into a false sense of security by plying her with sweet treats, then sock her with the tough questions.
When Poppy arrived, I told her what Noah had conveyed to me about Willow; then, a few minutes later, Lindsey knocked on the front door and I let her inside. I introduced her to Poppy, explaining that my friend was also interested in a PR campaign for her bar.
Once the formalities were over, I invited Lindsey to take a seat on one of the soda fountain stools. Poppy hopped up on the one next to her and I went behind the counter.
Gesturing to the menu posted behind me, I asked, “What can I get you two?”
Poppy asked for a banana split and Lindsey requested a single scoop of frozen yogurt. As I worked on their orders, I studied Elise’s coworker. My first impression of Lindsey had been that she was sporting a small white dog on the top of her head, but, upon further examination, I wondered who had convinced her that dyeing what appeared to be a platinum skullcap on top of her own dark brown hair would be a good look for her.
Once we all had our treats, I said, “Have you lived in Shadow Bend very long, Lindsey?”
“About a year.” Her apologetic expression was unconvincing. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in your store before, but now that I see how charming it is I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I sipped my root beer float. “I used to work in the city, too, and I know it’s a lot easier to do your shopping there.”
“Thanks for understanding.” Lindsey took a tiny bite of yogurt. “You said Vaughn Yager recommended me, but I’m a little confused as to why, since he wasn’t my client.”
“Uh.” I thought fast. I hadn’t expected the opportunity to bring up Elise to come this soon in our conversation. “Vaughn said that with Ms. Whitmore being unavailable, you were definitely the person to talk to.”
“How nice of him.” I could tell by Lindsey’s voice that she wasn’t exactly pleased to have been second choice. “Actually, it was highly unusual for a client to prefer Elise’s ideas over mine.” She raised a brow. “So maybe he just preferred Elise.”
“I did hear they were very close friends.” Poppy’s tone was full of innuendo.
“And she was getting a divorce.” Lindsey beamed at Poppy. “I never believed her story that Colin had cheated on her. She always tried to make everyone else look bad.”
What? Hadn’t Lindsey been the one who told Elise that Colin’s car was at the motel during a time when he was supposedly at the bank? “That must have been a rough situation, since you worked together,” I murmured. Interesting how people rewrite history so quickly once someone is dead.
“Incredibly rough.” Lindsey’s brow furrowed. “Elise and I were up for the same promotion, and she was backstabbing me something terrible.”
“How awful.” I made sure my tone was sympathetic. Clearly, this woman had never heard the old saying about not speaking ill of the dead.
“Wow!” Poppy’s angelic face shone with innocence. “That’s sucky.”
“Yes. Yes, it was.” Lindsey leaned forward. “I’m just relieved that I have an alibi for the night she was killed, or the police would probably be knocking on my door.”
“Why’s that?” I asked, surprised that this was going so easily. “Had you threatened her?” Just because Lindsey claimed she had an alibi didn’t mean she really did.
“Not in so many words.” Lindsey chewed a thumbnail. “But I did make a sort of rash statement to the mayor.” She looked between Poppy and me. “I really wanted to get the town of Shadow Bend as a client and I said I’d do anything to beat out Elise.”
“I’m sure a lot of people make statements like that without ever meaning they’d kill for a job,” I reassured her. Which was true; more often that sentiment led to bed, not dead.
“So what’s your alibi?” Poppy asked.
“I was at an Herbal Choices party,” Lindsey said. Then, at our confused looks, she explained, “It’s an organic hair- and skin-care product line, as well as herbal dietary supplements.” She shrugged. “A client’s wife sells the stuff, and I had no choice but to attend. . . .”
“How did you find out what the time of death was?” I asked. As far as I was aware, that fact wasn’t public knowledge. We only knew because Boone’s attorney had a right to that information.
“My husband told me that Elise was found at eleven, and the officer who spoke with him said she hadn’t been dead for more than three hours—something about the body still being warm to the touch and no rigor mortis,” Lindsey answered. “And my friend Myrna Burnett and I left Shadow Bend in the early afternoon to do some shopping in Kansas City before the party. We didn’t get back in town until nearly midnight.”
“How fortunate for you.” I smiled at her instead of gritting my teeth, which is what I wanted to do. Another suspect eliminated was not good news for Boone.
After the disappointing news that Lindsey couldn’t have killed Elise, I pretended to get an emergency text from home and told the ad woman that we’d have to reschedule. Once I had hurried her out of the store, Poppy telephoned Myrna Burnett and asked about Lindsey’s alibi. I’m not sure why Myrna was willing to talk to Poppy, but she was, and she confirmed she’d been with Lindsey from two to midnight on Saturday.
Poppy and I commiserated that we hadn’t found the murderer, deciding to postpone writing the report for Tryg until we’d talked to Colin Whitmore.
We agreed to meet at the health club at seven a.m., and I headed home. I waved at Gran and her poker buddies, who seemed to be involved in a cutthroat game of five-card stud, then closed myself in my bedroom to process the day’s events. Just before I fell asleep, I realized that once again I wouldn’t be able to search for Elise’s cat the next morning and resolved to do so after work on Friday. I sure hoped that Tsar had found someone to take him in, or at least a place to stay warm.
* * *
The health club was on the outskirts of town in a tiny strip mall. Poppy and I arrived at the same time, and I admired her low-riding, skintight stretch capris and matching ruffled sports bra. She didn’t seem quite as pleased to see my gray sweatpants and black T-shirt.
While we were signing in and paying for a day pass at the front desk, she hissed, “Are those clothes what you consider sexy?”
“Hey,” I whispered back, “if I looked like Fairy Princess Barbie, I’d wear your outfit, but since I’m more like a Jill doll, this is the best I can do. As a curvy girl, I firmly believe that wearing spandex is a mistake.”
“Why? If you’d put on some lipstick, fix your hair, and wear some cute shoes, no one would notice the size of your ass,” Poppy informed me as we walked down a short hallway. “And what in the hell is a Jill doll?”
“She was the teenage sister of an early 1950s chubby doll called Ginny,” I explained. “Both Jill and Ginny were shaped like real people rather than the fashion dolls that appeared later that decade.”
“Only you would know that.” Poppy snorted, then glanced around the room and pointed at a man on an elliptical machine. “If that’s Colin Whitmore, turns out I do know him after all. He comes to the bar’s karaoke nights.”
Since there was no one else present, I figured the guy had to be Elise’s husband, but he su
re didn’t look like I had pictured him. The man on the machine was barely five foot six and maybe a 115 pounds soaking wet. He had a wispy mustache that drooped over plump pink lips. His brown hair made me think of a burlap bag, and a gold stud pierced his right nostril. It was hard to believe this was the guy who had succeeded in seducing Willow into giving up her vow of chastity.
As I approached him, his hostile hazel eyes zeroed in on me, but his sour expression changed when he caught a glimpse of Poppy behind me. He puffed up his chest and started moving faster.
“Hi.” Poppy waved. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Poppy Kincaid. I own Gossip Central. You have a great singing voice.”
Colin lurched to a stop. “Poppy, uh, what a surprise. Of course I know who you are. What man could forget someone so gorgeous?”
“Aw.” Poppy fluttered her lashes. “How sweet. But I don’t think I ever knew your name.”
“Colin.” He smoothed the sides of his short hair and tugged at neck of his faded T-shirt. “Colin Whitmore.”
Either Colin was ignoring me or he’d forgotten I was there. I was used to fading away next to Poppy’s exquisite beauty; it had been happening since first grade, when the bus driver was so enthralled by her that he missed my stop and didn’t realize I was still on board until he parked back at the bus barn.
“Oh, my God!” Poppy pretended surprise. “Was it your wife who was murdered last Saturday?”
“Yes.” Colin leaned awkwardly against the handles of the elliptical machine. “But we were in the process of getting a divorce.”
“Still, I’m very sorry for your loss,” Poppy said. “Do they have any idea who killed her?”
“I hear they think it’s her lawyer.” Colin’s expression was solemn. “I warned her about him.”
“Really?” Poppy twirled a strand of her hair. “Why is that?”
“He was giving her bad advice.” Colin licked his lips, his gaze on Poppy’s breasts as they rose and fell under her skimpy top. “I told her that we could settle things amicably without involving attorneys, and save a lot of money, too.”
Nickeled and Dimed to Death Page 20
