by Gina LaManna
“That’s not —.”
“Either way,” I continued, gathering speed. “You found her, saw your opportunity and seized it. After all, the only person who’d examine the body is you. Even if there was evidence left behind, all it would take is a little ... .” I made a flicking gesture. “Dump it in the trash and nobody is the wiser. At best, it’s considered an accident, at worst, an unsolved murder by someone in a jealous fit of rage.”
“Evian, stop! You —.”
“Is that how it went?” Abigail shrunk under my raised voice, that smug smile finally wiped off her face. “Did you kill her because those sixty trophies should have belonged to you?”
“Evian!” Abigail screeched this time, bringing my accusations to a halt. “I was there for the freaking beauty samples!”
I did a double blink in surprise and stepped backward. “Excuse me?”
“The beauty samples!” She wiped a hand across her forehead, looking exhausted as she admitted it. “Evian, you’re a stubborn little bulldog, you know that? I really am annoyed with you.”
“What do you mean you were there for the beauty samples?”
“I mean that at these pageants — obviously you wouldn’t know because you don’t understand the first thing about beauty — .”
“We’ve established that,” I cut in. “What about them?”
She shook her head and refocused. “Well, vendors come a week to a few days before the contest. They positively slather the girls in free stuff. Lotions, hair sprays, nail goodies, the latest and greatest in sleeping masks. You get the picture. They hand out curling irons and blow driers like aspirin. It’s the place to be when trying to get hold of the best supplies in the industry.”
“Huh,” I said. “What do the companies get in return? Some sort of endorsement?”
“Of course you wouldn’t understand this either because the island is stupidly horrible with technology — which is sort of good for me because the video remains somewhat hidden — but to everyone else in the country, or the world, social media is huge.” She explained this to me as a teacher might detail two-plus-two for some foundering student. “Winners of beauty pageants become Instagram-famous. They get all these deals to promote products. Thousands, sometimes millions of impressionable young girls are seeing these posts.”
“And all the vendors want their brands featured,” I said. “So they show up, unload all their products, and then when the girls win they ask them to give their product a quick shout-out on social media.”
“I mean, basically.” Abigail rolled her eyes as if I hadn’t quite grasped the concept. “I knew the vendors might be there because the pageant is just days away. They need to start getting these products unloaded on the girls, stat! The ladies will start posting photos, their fans will ask what they used to get ‘those fabulous curls,’ and the vendors want the answer to be the name of their product.”
“Did you find any of the vendors there?”
“Sure, a handful,” she said with a wrinkled nose. “They were just setting up shop, though. You know pageant contestants, they need beauty sleep. One or two vendors had set up in the dining room.”
“Did you go in there?”
“Well, yeah. I scored a new hair crimper and an eyeshadow palette. I wanted the face cream dude to fork over his supplies, but I think he suspected I wasn’t actually a contestant. Stupid wrinkles.”
I watched her dab at nonexistent crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes and sighed. If Abigail thought she had wrinkles with all the Botox she did, my skin must look like an old leather speedbag. “What about the girls? I don’t think any of them mentioned the vendors being around.”
“Like I said, they were probably sleeping or primping or whatever. I arrived around eight fifteen. The vendors beat me there by a little bit.”
“So they were there before the murder?” I asked, anxious. Maybe one of them had heard something or spoken to Mary. With a shudder, I wondered if one of them had been responsible for her death. “What time did they set up shop?”
“Gosh, I don’t know specifics,” she said, studying me carefully. “But I can’t see why they would possibly have killed her. To answer your other question, I doubt any of the girls even knew vendors were around. They must have left sometime in the commotion of the murder because I was directing traffic away from the house.”
“Why would you send people away?” I asked, furious. “You should have taken their statements!”
“I did. They didn’t see anything,” Abigail said, tapping her skull. “I remember every word up here.”
“That’s not your job; that’s the police’s job. Do you know how guilty this makes you look?”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t kill her.” Abigail leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. “In fact, I think love might be blinding you, missy. The answer might be closer than you think.”
“What?”
“That little boy toy of yours is hiding something from you.”
“Boy toy?” My dating life was a big fat goose egg at the moment, so I struggled to think of who she meant. My first thought was Paul, but I didn’t think Abigail was quick enough to use Paul as an insult. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw you canoodling with Mason at Coconuts yesterday,” she said with a snide grin. “Yeah. And he seemed pretty comfortable talking to you at the crime scene. Not to mention, he just ’took care’ of that scooter for you? Yeah, right. You’re not fooling anyone — Mason’s not that nice.”
“We’re just friends,” I said, hesitant. “If that. We’ve never been anything more.”
“No, but I have.” Abigail flipped a hand through her hair and tossed the locks over her shoulder. “We dated for quite some time. It was pretty serious, I’ll have you know.”
I sighed. Another checkmark in the “con” column for a guy I’d just begun thinking of as friendly. “That’s too bad.”
“It is, isn’t it? I broke up with him,” she said quickly, though the way her eyes darted away I wasn’t sure if that was the truth. “That’s how I can tell he’s after you. He likes you, Evian, but you’d better watch what you get yourself into. He might be a murderer.”
“How do you figure that?” I asked. “I was talking to him right before my bike slipped and crashed into the crime scene.”
“Yeah, I know. You’ve said as much.” Abigail gave a proud sniff. “But what you haven’t considered is why Mason was out and about anyway? If I remember, it was raining hard, he was just walking around? I’m sorry, nobody just goes for a stroll in a near hurricane. And he wasn’t wearing jogging clothes. I know because I checked him out. He had on those jeans that make his butt look fabulous.”
I held up a hand like a shield. “Don’t need to hear that level of detail.”
“See what I mean? You’re letting love blind you.” Abigail rested her hand on the doorknob and twisted. “If you weren’t, maybe you’d have figured out his connection to Mary.”
“What was his connection?” I asked, curious for an ex-girlfriend’s point of view on the relationship.
“They dated for some time.” Abigail watched my expression melt into one of surprise. “Yep, exactly. Then he was seen wandering around the murder scene of one of his many — so very many, I’ll have you know — ex-girlfriends.”
I swallowed and came up empty for a retort.
“Why do you think he’s buttering you up?” She gave a tinkling laugh. “You didn’t actually think he liked you, did you?”
“Um—”
“You saw him at the crime scene.” She pulled open the door and stepped through, turning back to face me. “Now, you’re asking questions, investigating and whatnot. Don’t you see his plan? He’s distracting you. Poor, quiet little Evian, who hasn’t had a date in years. See how far a bit of flattery got that schmuck? You didn’t even see what was right before your eyes.”
Abigail turned away and clicked off, her heels sounding like angry tick-tocks against the floorboards as she wa
lked. My fingers clenched and unclenched in frustration, and my mind swam with knowledge, accusations, lies and half-truths.
I stormed out of the examination room and down the hallway. It irked me that Abigail had gotten the best of me once again. I’d been so sure there’d been more to the story with her than dumb old beauty samples, but again, she’d turned the tables. I was just as lost as before.
To make matters worse, it grated on me that Abigail might have a point. Had I been blind? Was it true I’d turned away from all the obvious signs of Mason’s involvement in the case because he’d shown the slightest bit of interest in me?
I tried to convince myself that wasn’t true, but I remembered the warmth I’d felt when he’d paid the bill yesterday. The huge wave of relief that I’d construed as kindness when he’d offered to take care of my scooter at the crime scene so I could get to work. Because he’d “buttered me up,” as Abigail said, I hadn’t even asked why he’d been out walking on a rainy morning just blocks from a crime scene.
With new determination, I headed for Mason’s mechanic shop. I might’ve been too relaxed the first time through my questioning, but this time I’d make up for it.
All of these partial lies and missing pieces of information had me more convinced than ever that the true murderer was in our midst. Possibly, someone I knew. Possibly, a friend of mine. If I didn’t find the killer soon, the chances were good he or she might kill again.
Ten
“What were you doing walking around in the rain?” I stormed straight into Mason’s shop without pausing for niceties. “Why’d you pay the bill at dinner last night?”
Mason looked up from a golf cart he’d been tinkering with and gave me a crooked smile. “How many of those have you had today?”
He nodded toward the latte in my hand, and I realized I was trembling a little. Whether it was a caffeine overdose or a case of the angry jitters, I couldn’t tell for sure. It was probably both.
“None of your business,” I said, but I set the latte on the counter so he couldn’t see my trembling fingers. “Answer me, Mason.”
He took his time standing upright, facing me with a moderately amused look on his face. As he wiping hands stained with grease against his light-blue, well-worn jeans, I couldn’t help but notice the way his arm muscles tightened under the black T-shirt, or the way his tanned skin practically glowed from all the time he spent in the sun.
With a pained bitterness, I realized that Abigail might be right. Here I was having these nice, friendly feelings that bordered on the romantic toward Mason, and he was using it to distract me from his involvement in a murder. Allegedly.
I had to prove him guilty as much as I would anyone else, but that didn’t feel fair — I wanted to be angry with him. It had been so long since I’d given any man a chance that this felt like a bigger letdown than it should — and I wasn’t even sure the feelings were reciprocated.
“Take a breath,” he said, extending his hands toward me. He stepped across the floor of his garage and moved toward where I stood in front of the counter. “And back up. What are you getting at?”
I did as he said and breathed, though it felt exceptionally shallow. The air smelled of grease and motor parts, though not unpleasantly so. As Mason inched closer, I caught a hint of fresh, outdoorsy cologne. “I came here to ask you a few questions.”
“All right, then. Go ahead. No need to have a heart attack while you’re at it.”
I barely refrained from making a face, but that was probably the caffeine. Not that I needed it, but I picked up the latte and took another swig for courage. “Yesterday morning, you were out walking around. Why?”
“Fresh air?”
“It was raining! You were wearing jeans. People don’t wear jeans to get exercise — that’s, like, the worst idea ever. I don’t even need to exercise to know that for a fact.”
He laughed. “I like a nice morning stroll after my first cup of coffee.”
“Fine. But you’re evading that question. What about the crime scene? You appeared there quite quickly.”
“Right. Because I watched you skid halfway down the hill and crash through bushes and a fence.” His look was almost patronizing. “I half expected you to be dead when I got there. I was doing the decent human thing to check on you and see if you needed help.”
“Oh, yes, a real knight in shining armor.”
The look of amusement was rapidly fading from his face. “Look, Evian, I’m humoring you answering these questions, but you haven’t given me any reason to talk to you about Mary. You’re not the police, nor the ME, nor a detective.”
“Right, and you’ve dated at least two of the three parties you just mentioned.”
“Is that what this is about?” He raised a hand, ran it across his eyes in a tired motion. “You found out about my relationship with Mary and now you think I killed her?”
“Not only her, but Abigail.”
“What are you talking about? I never had a relationship with Abigail.”
“Sure you did. Don’t bother lying. She told me about it,” I said. “And about the one with Mary. Had Mary moved on? Were you upset about it? Is that why you killed her?”
“I didn’t kill anyone.” Mason’s voice was deadly calm. There was a fury burning just behind his eyes, but he didn’t let it seep through — not yet. “I’d never hurt a soul. I fix things. I put them back together.”
“You still haven’t said why you were out wandering the streets on a rainy morning when a murder was committed just a block away.”
“Fine. You want the story? I’ll give it to you. But I don’t think you’ll like it.” Mason crossed his muscled arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. If he weren’t so terrifying at the moment, he’d be drop-dead gorgeous. “I never had what you’d call a ‘relationship’ with Abigail. She sat at my table one night at Coconuts and tried to feel me up. When she dove in for a kiss, I turned my head and she hit my cheek. Her ego was bruised after that, so she left me alone, but has been telling everyone that we had a serious relationship and she broke it off. Of course, I’m heartbroken and lost and lonely without her.”
Mason looked none of those three things and, frankly, I could see Abigail pulling all aspects of the stunt. I shivered as he continued.
“The bit about Mary — yes, we had a relationship,” he said. “It wasn’t serious. That was the problem. We went out for six months or so, but during that time we saw each other only maybe four times. She was traveling all the time and I refused to leave Eternal Springs. This is my home, my place of business. I have family here, and friends — or at least, I thought I did.”
His frosty gaze was not lost on me.
“We broke up after six months during an amicable and friendly phone call. She’d even rung me before coming to the island to see if I wanted to catch up and grab coffee. From the way it sounded, she was happily in a relationship.”
“Wait a second — she was in a relationship?” I frowned. “None of the girls said anything about that.”
“Maybe she wasn’t — she didn’t say either way,” Mason said quickly. “Don’t take my word on it. All I meant was that she sounded friendly and happy. I agreed to meet up with her but never got the chance. We were going to get coffee today.”
“I’m really sorry, Mason,” I said, softer. It wasn’t until the phrase had slipped out that I realized my sympathies were already with him. For the second time today I’d approached someone thinking them a killer only to find myself upended and surprised by their side of the story. “But still, that doesn’t explain —.”
“— why I was out and about yesterday morning?” He gave a dry smile. “I have been over Mary for years. I’ve dated people after her. You have to understand, I’m unattached, but I’m also interested in someone.”
“Oh?”
Mason gave a dry laugh. “You’re not getting it. You, Evian. I’m interested in you. Haven’t you noticed I tend to have a morning walk about the time you go
to work every day? I know it sounds a little weird, but I swear I was just looking for a chance to run into you.”
“Run into me?”
“A few weeks ago I walked to grab coffee. I came back from the shop and ran into you and we chatted for a few minutes,” he said with a shrug. “You made me laugh. It’s been a long time since someone made me laugh. I didn’t forget that.”
I knew the exact date he meant. It was the same day I’d noticed the curves of his arms and the flatness of his abs. The way his low, husky laugh warmed my insides and the way I got little butterflies every morning after when our paths seemed to accidentally cross.
“I figured I’d walked to get coffee anyway, why not chance a quick hello with you while I was at it?” He shrugged. “There was a pattern, see. My days were always a little bit brighter when I ran into you. So, I’m sorry, but there you have it.”
“But it was raining!”
“It wasn’t raining when I went to get coffee,” he said. “You forget — you were an hour late to work. I walked down to get coffee and then the downpour hit. I waited at the shop for, like, an hour for it to pass, but eventually I had to get back home and to work. That’s why I was jogging out there — trying to make it to work on time during the storm. Imagine my surprise when I ran into you even though it was an hour later than the normal time our paths crossed.”
“You saw me in trouble ... .”
“So I came over to help. Look, Evian.” Mason stepped around the counter. He left enough distance between us so that it wasn’t intimidating, but there was no ambivalence in the way his eyes darkened as his gaze met mine. “You’re funny, you’re nice and of course you’re beautiful. I’d be an idiot not to notice what’s right in front of me.”
“But Mason, the timing —.”
“What about timing?” he interrupted. “I’m truly sorry that Mary is dead. I didn’t tell you about my relationship with her because, well, first you’re not the police. Sorry, but I didn’t think you had any business knowing of my personal relationships with the deceased. Second, I’m interested in you. If ever the time came when you asked about dating history, I would have told you. I swear.”
