I chewed pensively. Swallowed. Took my time with the answer.
“I’m asking you unofficially, but if it’s a lead I need to follow, one of these days I will have to interview you.”
“I do honestly believe that,” I said. “And it’s part of the reason I’ve been causing trouble for you lately. As for this case, I can’t say.” Until I had more information on what had actually happened. “But things have been crazy in town lately. Small towns have their problems, but five murders in such rapid succession? Difficult not to assume they’re connected.”
Liam nodded. “I’ll follow this up with you officially when the time is right. If the time is right.”
We finished our meal in a warm silence, the trickle of guitar music from the speaker overhead accompanying the last few bites. It was lovely here and the evening was over too soon.
Balle drove me back to Sleepy Creek, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and humming along to songs on the radio. My mind whirred in the meantime, fixating on Janine, why she’d been there, and how she was involved in the case.
I had to speak to Nelly about this. Perhaps, Janine had been an enemy of Martha’s? Or of Nelly’s? Anything was possible.
Liam walked me up the front path and right to Griselda’s door. We stood awkwardly, me clearing my throat, and him scuffling his shoes.
“Well, this was lovely,” I said.
“I’d like to see you again. I’ll call you.”
“Thanks. I mean, yeah, sure. I mean, OK that’s great.” Wow, I was annoying when I was nervous. “Thanks for tonight,” I managed, at last.
He leaned in, closer and closer, until the scent of his cologne washed over me.
The front door slapped open. “There you are!” Grizzy cried.
Liam and I sprang apart.
“I was starting to get worried.” But Griselda’s smile said she knew exactly what she’d intercepted. “Are you coming in for some coffee, detective?”
“No, thank you. I’d better get some rest. Murders to solve.” Liam gave a faux salute, then awkwardly shook my hand. He hurried off down the path and toward his car. He drove off with another wave.
Grizzy giggled.
“Don’t you start,” I said.
“Christie and Liam sitting in a tree.” She grabbed my arm and dragged me into the house. “OK. Spill. Everything.”
“A woman never dates and tells,” I said. “But I think I found out something interesting about Martha’s murder…”
5
“Come on, Curly, a little faster than that.” I held the end of Curly Fries’ pink lead and tapped my heel on the sidewalk. It was hot as a griddle out here, and the cat had decided she wanted to take a rest on Mrs. Immelmann’s lawn. “This is ridiculous,” I said. “We’ve barely made it across the street. And I have witnesses to question.”
Curly flicked her black tail at me.
“Is it water? Do you need water?” I reached into the carry bag I always brought with on our walks and took out her cutesy paw-print embossed bowl. I placed it on the grass then filled it with bottled water. “There. Drink and let’s haul some fur.”
Curly sniffed the water and turned up her nose.
“Typical.” I waited another minute then emptied out the water bowl and packed it away. “I’m not picking you up.”
She meowed at me, but started the Curly Fries wobble I’d grown accustomed to over the past few weeks. Off she went down the sidewalk at a snail’s pace.
“Look at me,” I said, “I’m a homicide detective reduced to a … cat walker. A fat cat walker. Not that there’s anything wrong with walking cats.” Who was I even talking to? If I wasn’t careful, one of Mona’s gossip circle members would spot me ambling along talking to myself and spread rumors about me.
I turned onto Main Street and headed for Nelly’s florist shop. The sign hanging in the door read ‘OPEN,’ and I pushed my way inside, taking a reluctant Curly with me.
Nelly stood behind the counter, leaning on top of it with both elbows, reading the newspaper. Her glasses had slid down her nose, right to the tip and she pushed them up, absently.
“Hello,” I called out.
Nelly yelped and jumped on the spot. “Oh, Christie. I didn’t see you there.”
“You didn’t hear the bell ringing?” I gestured to the little bronze bell over the door.
“I was so lost in this newspaper article. It’s about my mom,” she said, and folded the paper in half. She stowed it away, lifting a slab of chocolate in its place. “Would you like a block? It’s Belgian. My boyfriend got it for me.”
“When did you get a boyfriend?” I asked, and nudged Curly Fries with the toe of my sneaker. She’d gotten one whiff of the chocolate and suddenly found her energy. I theorized that it was because she’d never had chocolate before. The forbidden fruit. She didn’t understand that this particular ‘fruit’ could kill her.
Nelly broke off a piece of chocolate and put it in her mouth, a smile on her lips. “Mmm, delicious.”
“Nelly?”
“Oh. Last week,” she said. “I know it’s sudden, but I really like him. A lot. And after everything that happened with Fran and Sal—well, he’s been wonderful. He was the one who kept me together during that. I’m still struggling to get over Fran’s death.”
But not her mother’s. Why was Nelly so upbeat? It didn’t sit well with me. Now, sure, people handled grief in different ways, but this seemed odd. I’d lost my mother, and it bothered me to this day.
“I’ll bring him over for you to meet some time. In fact, you should come and see me at the house.”
“The house?” Nelly had lived in an apartment ever since I’d known her. Granted that had been only a month, but still.
“Yes, my mother’s house.” Nelly held out the chocolate.
“You’re living in your mom’s mansion?” I asked, and took a piece. I inserted it between my lips, bit down, and instantly regretted it. It was the worst chocolate I’d ever tasted. Bitter and crumbly and strangely spicy. I forced myself to chew and swallow. “Why are you—?” I choked on a crumb of chocolate.
“She left it to me. Well, to me and my brother.” Nelly caught the shock in my expression. “I know. I had no idea that I had a brother either. He came with her to town and started work at the pizzeria. I’ve never even met him, and now I have to share, I mean, get to know him.”
I frowned. “What’s your brother’s name?”
“Grayson. My mom showed me his picture. She was super excited for me to meet him, but I never got the chance after what happened.” Nelly shrugged and took another piece of chocolate. “I’m trying not to let any of this bother me. My boyfriend says that everything happens for a reason, and I have to agree with him. The bad and the good stuff. It just seems like a healthier way to approach life.”
Curly Fries meowed at the word ‘healthy.’
“Well, I just came to check in on you. You’re all right?”
“I’m fine, Chris, thanks for asking,” Nelly said. “You and Grizzy and the twins are always so supportive of me. It feels like you’ve lived here forever.”
She was right about that. When I thought about life back in Boston, it seemed a distant, hazed memory. But Boston wasn’t the problem, right now. Martha’s death was the issue at hand, and the fact that her daughter, my friend, wasn’t grieving about it.
Or hiding her grief?
And she had a new mystery boyfriend. And a long lost brother who happened to be working at Sal’s pizzeria. Sal who had fallen victim to the ministrations of a Somerville Spider.
It couldn’t possibly be connected, could it? I’d wanted to help Nelly by looking into the case, but I’d fast moved on from that. Now, it was about protecting Sleepy Creek. These murders simply couldn’t continue, and I hated to think they might be connected to my past.
“So,” I said, and leaned on the countertop, wrinkling my nose at the odd smell drifting up from the chocolate. “Tell me about this brother of yours.”
“There’s not much to tell,” Nelly said. “Just that he’s young, just out of his teens, and that he doesn’t really have any prospects.” Nelly sounded slightly bitter as she said it. Possibly, as bitter as that horrible excuse for chocolate. “I mean, I’ll have to meet him before I make any judgements. It doesn’t seem fair to talk negatively about him when I don’t know him.”
A ‘but’ hovered in the air.
“But it seems to me,” Nelly said, at last, “that he was just living off our mother. Now that she’s gone, he gets his payday.”
“You suspect him?” I cut to the chase.
“I don’t want to say that…” Nelly pressed her lips together. “But my boyfriend, Donovan? He thinks that it’s really weird how they turned up and how next thing this has happened.”
Donovan. I’d never heard of the guy. He had to be new in town. I had about a billion questions to ask and a cat on the end of a lead who kept meowing and batting my legs. Perhaps, it was potty time. “I’d better head out, Nelly.”
“Sure. Thanks for stopping by. Like I said, you and Griz and the twins should come to the house. What about tomorrow night? For dinner?”
“Sounds perfect.” I waved and led Curly out of the florist’s. I had to get her home before she ruined our walk by dropping off a package I would have to retrieve with a baggie. And I had a plan in mind. One that didn’t need a cat on board.
This brother intrigued me. Murder motivations ranged from the passionate to the financial and everywhere in between, but both Nelly and her brother had been written into their mother’s will and benefited from her death. Both of them were prime suspects.
It was time to find out more about Mr. Grayson Boggs.
6
On the list of things I loved to do, hanging around outside a pizza place wasn’t high up. Especially, when I wasn’t waiting around for an order to be fulfilled. Truth was, Grizzy had mentioned she’d be making steak and potatoes tonight, and I was all about that.
Also, if I didn’t cut back on the burgers and pizzas soon, I’d die of high cholesterol before I solved anything. Or wind up as big as a human-sized version of Curly Fries.
I took a seat on the bench outside Sal’s Pizzeria, turning sideways and angling my Agatha Christie paperback so it’d look like I was reading rather than eyeing out the place. The afternoon sun had sunk in the sky, and the lights were on inside the pizzeria, behind the somewhat happy pizza embossing on the window.
People traveled in and out of the place.
It was great to see, and, shoot, it probably would have made Sal happy if he’d been around to see it.
“Rest in peace,” I muttered.
Sal’s restaurant was run by a friend of the family, Bella, who had bought it from the bank. She was a nice woman with great plans and the reason there was a new fluorescent sign blinking from the bricks above the entrance.
The sign had been the talk of the town after its install at the start of the week, but then Martha had been murdered and the gossip chain had latched onto that instead.
I turned a page, secretly despising that I hadn’t read a word of it, and shifted my eyes sideways.
Another customer exited the pizzeria carrying a pie in a cardboard box. Inside, two people worked behind the counter, a young woman who wore a Sal’s Pizzeria cap, and a man with dark hair that hung limply against his forehead.
I kept my expression focused, as if I couldn’t get enough of the book in my hand, but my pulse ticked up a notch.
That was the same guy I’d seen at the restaurant in Logan’s Rest on my date with Liam. The one who’d been seated across from Janine Huxley.
It was too much of a coincidence. It had to be the brother.
What did that mean?
That Liam hadn’t been looking at Janine at all but at the brother? That would make more sense, given that the brother had a solid motive for getting rid of Martha.
The guy was young, and he kept sweeping greasy hair back from his forehead then glancing around the store, his eyes rimmed in black eyeliner. I hadn’t paid much attention to him the other night, but I took him in now.
Pale. Wearing cut-off leather gloves. He looked out of place in the Sal’s Pizzeria shirt and had clearly opted out of wearing the cap with it. The girl working behind the counter said something to him, and he shrugged.
Another customer approached the pizzeria and entered, swaying up toward the front counter. Long blonde hair, a tight pair of skinny jeans and an even tighter red strappy top. She tossed her hair back, turning her head, and I caught sight of the side of her face. It was Janine, the woman who’d been seated across from Grayson at the restaurant last night.
Were they in a relationship?
My curiosity grew, but I stayed in place, watching as they talked to each other.
Grayson didn’t seem particularly happy to see her. He gestured to the door, and she flicked her hair again then turned from the counter and stormed out into the street.
“—think he is?” she muttered, as she emerged.
Janine came over and sat down on the bench.
It must be my lucky day.
I shut my book on my finger. “Taking the bus?” I asked.
“This isn’t a bus stop,” Janine replied, and cast a disdainful look in my direction. “And do I know you?”
“Christie,” I said, and extended a hand.
Her disdain transferred to my hand. “I’m Janine.”
“I think we’ve met actually. You’ve been into the Burger Bar, right?”
“Oh. I know you,” she said, and folded her arms. “You’re the waitress that works there? My aunt Mona told me all about you.”
I nearly choked on my own saliva. “Mona’s your aunt?”
“On my mom’s side.”
“That’s nice.” There was no way I could come up with a better qualifier than ‘nice.’ It might have been weak, but that was because Mona was the queen of gossip and mean in Sleepy Creek.
“Yeah, it’s whatever.”
“So, have you lived here long? You stay with her?” I needed to find a segue into talking about Martha.
“Uh, yeah. I went away to college, but I’m back now. And it’s temporary. She’s super poor, like. Ew.”
“Right.” When had I lost the ability to hold a conversation with teenagers? Or twenty-year-olds?
“I live with my dad. But yeah, it’s boring ever since we moved.”
“It must be weird for you staying here.”
“Why?” Janine raised a penciled in eyebrow. She was doused in perfume, and I forced myself to keep from pulling a face. I had a pretty sensitive nose.
“Because of what happened recently in the area. Martha died? Martha Boggs?” This had to be the most awkward conversation anyone had ever had in the history of all conversations. But, oh well. Pretending not to interrogate someone while interrogating them definitely wasn’t a strength of mine.
“Oh, that? Who cares? Like, it will never happen to me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I don’t make enemies, and I’m not a horrible woman?”
“Martha was horrible?” I asked. “I didn’t know her at all. Thought she was new to town.”
“Oh, she was, but, like, I knew people who knew her, and they all thought she was a really mean, terrible person. I’m not at all surprised that someone decided to murder her.” Janine shifted on the bench and looked back at the pizzeria.
That’s interesting. “That’s sad,” I said. “But it’s alarming that there might be a murderer on the loose.”
“Yeah, but, like, not one that wants to hurt me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because who would want to hurt me?” Janine asked. “I’m like … seriously, look at me. I’m who everyone wants to be. Women want to be me, and men fall in love with me. Simple as that.”
“Sure, but you get weirdos out there, you know.”
“Like weirdos who read books on benches on
the street? Seriously? Don’t you have a home to go to?”
What a charmer. “It was nice meeting you,” I said. “Again.”
“Whatever.” Janine got up from the bench, touching a finger to her hoop earring. “Bye.”
“Bye,” I said, and lifted my palm to wave, belatedly.
Janine flounced back toward the pizzeria, trailing a cloud of perfume and entered. She came out a short while later with a pizza and headed off down the road.
I stayed, opening my book to fake read again. It wouldn’t look right if I’d spoken to Janine and then walked off after. Finally, I closed my book, got up and dusted myself off, stretched out and faked a yawn.
I headed off down the street, back toward the suburbs, past glass-front stores displaying books or clothing or jewelry. None of it made an impression on me.
Janine was friends with Grayson, the son of Martha. Martha who had been mean, apparently, and deserved to be murdered. It was too suspicious. But I didn’t have any evidence whatsoever.
This was a hunch, nothing more, nothing less. All I could do was follow through and figure out what was going on between Janine and this Grayson dude. And if it had anything to do with Martha’s murder.
It was time to put my investigating cap on again. Had I ever taken it off?
7
“This is exciting,” Grizzy said, as she steered her Kia up to the front of the mansion’s gates. Thankfully, they weren’t pearly as well, or I’d have been in for a swift rejection given my recent activities.
Vee and Missi were in the back, occasionally whispering about something or the other—a bit of gossip to share about a mansion we’d passed or the owner of it.
Nelly’s grand manor sat further back, glimpsed between trees in bloom. The lights were on its many windows, and the door thrown open, allowing light to creep out into the purple dusk that had settled over Sleepy Creek and its infamous ‘Money Bags Town.’
The forensic department over in Logan’s Rest—Sleepy Creek didn’t have one of its own—had already been through the crime scene and removed the tape. But the mansion was still that: a crime scene. I had to keep that front of mind going in and look out for anything suspicious.
The Breakfast Burger Murder Page 3
