Miranda looked up and saw a quaint sign reading, “Josie’s Gems.”
At the door of the shop stood a Hispanic-looking woman with thick-rimmed glasses. Her dark hair pulled into a messy knot at the top of her head, she wore drab looking slacks and a baggy olive green sweater with sleeves that got in the way as she fumbled with her keys.
Miranda peered out the window at her. “Looks a little nerdy to own a boutique.”
“It’s called nerd-chic,” Wesson informed her from the back.
“Whatever.” She got out of the car and made her way over to the woman. “Excuse me. Are you Inez Fisher?”
The young woman raised her head.
Through the thick lenses, Miranda saw the same red-rimmed eyes Mrs. Yearwood had had.
“Yes,” she said softly. She eyed Parker coming up the sidewalk to join them. For a moment her face registered the usual stunned reaction to his gorgeousness. Then it was gone. “Are you the private investigators working on Josie’s case?”
“Yes. I’m Miranda Steele and this is Wade Parker. And this is—” Miranda glanced over at Smith, who was still in the squad car. “Give me a moment.”
She marched over to Wesson and spoke low. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?”
“Not a clue.”
“Talk to her. Get her into the store. She needs to hear what the partner has to say.”
“I’ll try.” Wesson trotted off to the police car and rapped on the window with her knuckles.
Miranda returned to Ms. Fisher.
“I’ve explained our role with the police here in the area,” Parker informed her.
“Thanks.”
Ms. Fisher glanced toward the street.
“They’ll be with us in a moment,” Miranda said, ignoring Parker’s look of concern.
“Sure. Won’t you come in?” Ms. Fisher opened the door, switched on a light, and lifted the blinds on the windows.
The wooden floor groaned a bit as they stepped inside. It looked to be the original, and the small space had the smell of an old building. But it was crowded with wares.
Pricey-looking fall outfits were on display in the windows, along with designer scarves and handbags and jewelry. Leather and silky paisleys in autumn colors with a lot of fringe and delicate gold chains seemed to be what was in vogue right now. Folded jeans and sweaters were tucked into shelves that lined every wall, and circular racks of blouses and jackets crowded the middle of the shop.
Ms. Fisher went around a counter and stood staring at the computer screen that served as a cash register. “I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I had planned to come in and get some work done on the books today, but I can’t even think straight.” She rubbed a hand against her forehead. “I don’t even know what’s going to happen to this place. Josie was the driving force behind it. I—I can’t believe she’s gone.” She reached for a tissue from a shelf behind her and pressed it to her face.
Miranda’s heart broke as much for this young woman as it had for Josie’s grandmother. “We’re very sorry for your loss, Ms. Fisher,” she said softly.
Inez shook her head. “It can’t be true. Josie was so full of life. Are you sure it was her?” Her eyes pleaded with Miranda through the lenses.
“I’m afraid so,” she said as gently as she could. “I’m so sorry.”
She held up a hand as if getting a grip on herself. “No, no. You’re here to help. I understand that. What do you want to know?”
Start slowly, Miranda thought. “How did you and Josie come to be partners?”
“Partners? Oh, I’ve known Josie all my life. We went to school together.”
“Did you?”
She nodded. “When she came back to the OBX after she and Aaron split up, she asked me to go into business with her. Aaron is her ex.”
“So we heard from Mrs. Yearwood.”
“Josie was the creative type, and I’m the detail-oriented one. I majored in accounting. Josie said she needed me to keep her from overspending. To keep her focused. We worked really well together.” She brushed at a tear with the sleeve of her sweater. “I—I just can’t believe she’s gone. Do you know who—who did this to her?”
“We’re doing our best to find out.”
At that moment, the bells on the shop door jingled and Wesson and Smith entered.
Miranda gestured toward them. “This is my associate Janelle Wesson and Officer Smith. Officer Smith is with the police department working the case.”
The three women shook hands.
“I hope you can find who did this to Josie soon,” Inez told them.
“We intend to,” Wesson said. Then she caught Smith eyeing the clothes. “You’ve got some nice things here.”
“Our fall and winter stock. We don’t sell much in the offseason, but Josie always thought we should offer the customers and townsfolk something.”
Wesson took Smith by the arm. “C’mon. Let’s have a look around.”
Okay. Miranda turned back to Inez. “We understand Ms. Yearwood dated a lot.”
The woman gave her a sad grin. “She sure did.”
“Did you know the men she went out with?”
“She dated a lot of different men around here. Most of them were vacationers. She didn’t want to get tied down. At least that’s what she said to me. ‘If you want a happy life,’ she used to say, ‘tie it to a goal, not to a man.’ She said she got that from Einstein.” Inez let out a sigh. “She really got burned in her marriage and she could be cynical about her future, but I always thought she’d find someone again.”
“Her grandmother said she dated a radiologist.”
“Oh, yes. Dr. Glenn Kugel. He works at the hospital in Nags Head.”
The guy Mrs. Yearwood mentioned. Now they were getting somewhere. “Do you know him?”
“A little. They went out several times. He’d stopped by the store and pick her up.”
“Had she seen him recently?”
“I don’t think so. She stopped dating him a while ago.”
What if this doctor was the jealous type?
Giggles rose from between the racks of clothes. Wesson and Smith were sure chumming it up back there. Old animosity roused in Miranda’s heart. She hoped Wesson wasn’t going to turn on her and go back to her old ways.
Parker’s scowl brought her back to the present. If Wesson got out of hand, she’d let him deal with it.
“How did Josie meet the men she was dating?” he asked. “We understand Ms. Yearwood didn’t use dating sites.”
Inez looked at him as if he’d cussed her out. “Who told you that?”
“Mrs. Yearwood.”
With a knowing look, Inez shook her head. “Josie didn’t tell her grandmother everything. Especially about her social life. She didn’t want her to worry.”
Miranda leaned forward, her heartbeat picking up. “So Josie did use dating sites?”
“She was registered with several.”
Bingo. “And did she have any dates from one of these sites recently?”
“She had a date Friday night.”
Miranda blinked at Parker. “This past Friday night?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know with whom?” Parker asked.
The woman’s shoulders slumped. “No. I wish I did.”
“But it was someone from one of those dating sites?” Miranda prompted.
Inez rubbed her head. “I think so. But it might have been a vacationer in town for the holidays. I can’t remember what she said. I had my head in the accounting software and didn’t pay much attention. I wish I had listened better now.”
“That’s all right,” Parker said in a soothing tone. “Just tell us what you remember. Where did they go?”
Frowning Inez gazed out the window. “A restaurant in town, I think. I’m not sure which one. Or maybe she was meeting him at a bar for drinks. Oh, why didn’t I pay more attention?”
It was more than they’d had a moment ago. “A restaurant or bar he
re in Manteo?”
She nodded. “That I know. Josie walked there to meet him. I don’t know how she wound up in a house on the ocean front, though. She usually didn’t sleep with a guy on the first date.”
Miranda pressed her lips together. “How do you know she was found on the ocean front?”
“I heard it on the news this morning. Angela Dawn Tremblay. You spoke to her last night, didn’t you? Angela didn’t mention Josie’s name, but I knew it had to be her.”
Just as Miranda suspected. What a blabbermouth that Tremblay woman was. “Was this guy someone she’d been out with before?”
“I don’t think so.”
Miranda’s mind was racing. She thought about what Wesson had said. True, Josie was probably texting this guy on her cell phone, but if she had a computer she’d probably emailed him, too. And there might be a history of the dating sites.
They needed to go to her place. “Ms. Fisher, do you have Josie’s address?”
She looked surprised for a moment, then raised her forefinger. “She lived upstairs.”
Parker was on the same wavelength. “Do you mind if we have a look at her living quarters?”
She blinked at them a moment, stunned at the question. Then she shrugged. “No. Not at all. I have an extra key around here somewhere.” She began to fumble around behind the counter.
“Excuse me just a moment.” Miranda turned and made her way through the racks of clothes until she found Smith and Wesson. “You two want to come upstairs to look at the vic’s apartment, or would you rather shop?”
Two pairs of cheeks turned pink on queue.
“Sorry, Steele,” Wesson muttered under her breath.
Smith hung the blouse she’d been looking at back on the rack. “Of course, we’re coming. Lead the way.”
Chapter Eleven
Inez Fisher led them up a creaky set of stairs in the back and down a short hall to a second floor flat. She worked the key in the door and gave it a shove with her shoulder.
“It sticks,” she explained. “Josie was always complaining about it, but we never bothered to get it fixed.” She pushed the door open and stood rubbing her arms, her cheeks going a little pale. “Is it all right if I stay out here? I don’t think I can go in there.”
“Of course,” Parker told her in a gentle tone, and gestured for the ladies to enter before him.
Josie Yearwood’s living quarters formed a long rectangular space with windows on both ends.
Like the shop, the wooden floor was original, but here it had been painted over in a dusty rose color and was dotted with festive throw rugs. A set of tall windows overlooking the bay allowed light to flood onto a cozy sofa smothered in artsy throw pillows.
In the open section between the living area and the kitchen stood several tables, all covered with assorted design accessories. Pins, scissors, swatches of cloth. Lots of sketches of clothes. Some of them really good, as far as Miranda could tell at first glance. Bolts of cloth were stacked up along one wall.
“Josie was working on designs for our spring collection,” Inez explained from the hallway. “She could be messy when she was inspired.”
Miranda crossed the main area to the other side. The kitchen was a small affair done in a bright lime green and featuring retro appliances. She peeked inside the door to the bedroom. Several outfits were strewn over the bed. Looked like Josie had had trouble deciding what to wear for her date. Had she thought the occasion was going to be special for some reason?
Parker moved over to a small desk in a corner. “Here’s what we need.”
Atop the polished oak surface sat a laptop.
“Miranda?” he said in his low aristocratic drawl.
He was making sure everyone here understood she was in charge.
“Go ahead,” Miranda told him.
“Officer Smith, I assume you’ll agree this falls under ‘exigent circumstances’ in your state.” Without waiting for a reply, he sat down, opened the computer, and turned it on.
Glad Parker had taken charge of the electronics, Miranda crossed the room to watch over his shoulder. On the way, she noticed Inez had pulled out her cell phone to distract herself. Miranda felt for the young woman. This was probably the worst experience she’d ever had.
As the machine came to life, an image of a boating scene appeared with a password box in the middle of it. Parker clicked the OK button, hoping Josie hadn’t set one.
No luck. The password box reappeared.
Casually Parker reached into his coat pocket for the flash drive he always carried with him. Again he turned to Smith. “You remember the exercises we used to do at the Agency, don’t you, Officer?”
“Yessir,” she said and took the opportunity to join Inez in the hall.
Didn’t want to take responsibility for what her former employer was about to do.
Parker’s methods didn’t always jive with standard police procedure, but they got the job done.
Right now, as he inserted the drive into a port and ran his password cracking program, they turned out to be just what they needed. After only a minute or two, Josie Yearwood’s desktop appeared with its assorted icons.
Miranda grinned. Scattered among a bunch of apps were shortcuts to no less than three dating sites. Sizzle, Matchup, and Love Prospectors.
Parker clicked on the first one and used his handy-dandy cracking program to access Josie’s account.
After another half minute he was in, and her profile appeared on the screen.
Wow, Miranda thought. In life, the full-grown Josie Yearwood was a real looker. Her picture was gorgeous. Long blond hair tossed back over her shoulder in a coy, sexy pose. Her luscious half smile said, “I can be a tease, but not always.” Her sassy metallic blue dress was shoulder-less and just shy of provocative.
Miranda read the profile. “Natural blond clothing designer seeks fun-loving friend for conversation and laughs. New York? Been there done that. I prefer the quiet life in the Outer Banks.”
“Sounds like she didn’t want to settle down.”
“But I’ll bet she attracted a lot of the wrong type.”
Miranda turned to see Wesson eyeing the screen and rubbing her arms as if she had a chill. Or was having a déjà vu.
“Apparently.” Parker clicked through some of the recent messages she’d been sent.
Hi Josie,
I saw your profile and think we might be a match. Would you like to go out?
Hey Beautiful,
I think you’re the one for me. I want you now.
Josephine,
I assume that’s your formal name. I’m intrigued by what you said about yourself. I’m a data analyst and would like to get together to discuss statistics.
Miranda pointed to the screen. “Did she date any of those guys? Especially bachelor number two?”
“You mean the one who wrote, ‘I want you now’?” Wesson asked.
“Yeah. That one.”
Like Josie, Wesson was a compulsive dater who never quite settled down with one guy. She must have dealt with a few creeps along the way. She knew the type.
Parker clicked around a bit. “No, it doesn’t look as though she did.”
He scrolled through Josie’s photos. There were three more, each with a different guy.
“We need copies of those.”
“Yes, we do.” Parker removed his flash drive and transferred the photos first to Miranda’s phone, then to Wesson’s, then to his own.
Miranda brought them up and walked over to the door. “Smith, Inez, do either of you know any of these guys?”
Smith studied the pictures then shook her head.
But Inez shoved her own phone into her pocket and took Miranda’s with a keen interest. After a moment, she pointed to the photo with the guy in a striped shirt and khaki slacks. He had light brown hair in a textured cut and a warm smile. “That’s Dr. Glenn Kugel.”
The picture was a casual one of the couple near what must have been a local dock. Wate
r and sailing boats were in the background.
“Josie told me you should add pictures of yourself with men in your profile so you look more desirable, as if she ever had to do that. She tried to get me to sign up, but dating sites aren’t for me.”
Inez scrolled to the next photo. In this one Josie stood holding hands with a tall good-looking man in a business suit with styled dark black hair. Tall city buildings rose in the backdrop. New York? Looking closer she noticed a dark mole on his left cheek.
“This is her ex, Aaron Afton. He was kind of a jerk.”
“So her grandmother told us.” Miranda studied the hard look in the man’s eyes and wondered whether he’d been cheating when the photo was taken.
Inez handed the phone back. “I don’t know who the third one is.”
A facial recognition program might tell them. The good doctor might be a good place to start.
“I can’t find any information about a date for Friday night,” Parker said. He shut down the laptop, closed it, and tucked it under his arm. “We’ll have to let the detectives at the police station investigate further.”
Cindy frowned. “I don’t know how sophisticated our staff is with that sort of thing.”
“If they can’t handle it, we’ve got a guy in Atlanta who can,” Miranda said. “Well, you know him. Dave Becker.”
Smith’s mouth fell open. “Becker’s into computers?”
She remembered him. “He’s been doing it a while now. He’s good, too.”
“I’m very proud of his accomplishments,” Parker agreed.
“That’s cool.” Suddenly Smith had a wistful look in her eye, and Miranda wondered if she missed being at the Agency.
“Oh, no.” Inez was back on her phone, letting out a horrified squeal.
“What’s wrong?” Wesson asked.
Her mouth moved, but for a moment there was no sound. Then the words came out in a tumble. “I—I just saw this news post about the murder. It’s a story by Angela Dawn Tremblay. She mentions Josie by name and she’s got a blurred image of her—” Tears began to stream down her cheeks from under her glasses. “Is that what the killer did to her? Oh, my God!”
Miranda snatched the phone away from her and took a look. Sure enough, it was an official police photo from the crime scene. The image had been purposely blurred, some of it covered with squares, but you could still tell it was a gory sight. Tremblay was going for the sensational. And probably a ratings boost.
Roses from My Killer Page 6
