No dice. She couldn’t concentrate.
Half an hour had passed since she’d called Ryan with the evidence, and the new options floated through her mind.
An altercation. Self-defense. What if Cheeky had been the initial attacker? But no, that didn’t suit her profile. Did it?
Heather bit her lip and slapped the book shut. The construction next door had taken up again. Hammers and grinding and drilling. Ugh, she could barely function, yet her fantastic assistants bustled around in the kitchen, filling orders and laughing hysterically at each other’s jokes.
“What’s the matter, gorgeous?” Ryan stood in front of the counter.
The construction had masked the sound of the bell above the door.
“Did you check it out?” Heather asked.
Ryan circled the counter, then tugged her into a tight embrace. “I did. But first, let’s talk about you. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine.”
Ryan pulled back and raised both eyebrows.
“All right, all right, I’m stressed. I’ve got that test in a couple of days, and this case is just, well, it’s just a mess, right now. I have evidence pouring in from every direction, and none of it matches up.”
Ryan leaned in and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Well, your snooping has led us to another lead in the case. You should be thrilled.”
“Not thrilled about you calling it snooping,” Heather replied, then managed a weak smile. “I guess I should be. You’re right.”
“And I’ve got something new for you, too,” Ryan said. He lifted his smartphone from his pocket, then placed it on the counter. “I think you’ll find this enlightening.”
“What is it?” Heather asked.
Ryan tapped on the screen, then fumbled through to his gallery. “Turns out, our victim was a big ol’ bully.” He opened an image and zoomed in on what looked to be a screen capture of an old yearbook page.
“What’s this?” Heather asked, then winced at the banging from next door.
Ryan raised his voice. “Yearbook from Hillside High. Cheeky James went to the school, and so did her cousin, Samantha. Turns out, Cheeky made every part of Samantha’s life hellish.”
Handwriting scrawled across the screen. A note: I can’t believe you fell for it for the third time this year. Better luck next year, nerd. – Cheeky
“I don’t get it. What does this pertain to?” Heather asked.
“That’s the interesting part,” Ryan replied. “I interviewed Samantha and tried to get a few answers out of her, but she was clammed up tight. Terrified.”
“She’s a shy mouse.” Heather wriggled her nose. If mice hung out at tombstones and with potential murder suspects.
“Yeah. Practically burst into tears at the mention of Cheeky’s name, and I’m not sure if it was because she was sad about her cousin’s death or relieved,” Ryan replied.
He flipped to another image, this was of Samantha in High School, dark hair pulled back tight and glasses hovering on the tip of her nose.
“That still doesn’t tell us much. And, I’m sorry, but I don’t think an old grudge is enough motivation for this one. Whoever was in that office had a purpose and it had to do with the salon.” Heather sat back and crossed her legs.
Julia James had been outside Cheeky’s salon recently. And she’d been personally invested in the concept of Cheeky’s Nails if only to scorn her daughter for it.
“Uh oh, what’s that look for?” Ryan asked.
“I’ve just realized something important. That’s what,” Heather replied, then slipped off her chair. “I’ve got an order to fill. And a model to meet.”
Ryan looped his arm around her waist and stared into her eyes. “Just be careful, Mrs. Shepherd. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”
Heather pecked him on the tip of his nose. “I never do.”
Chapter 12
Heather placed the box of Choc Pomegranate Glazed Donuts on the coffee table, next to the oil burner. “What’s today’s scent, Mrs. James?”
“Please, call me Julia,” the woman said, and smiled at the Donut Delights box. “And this is a lavender essential oil. I use it for calming the nerves.”
“And scalding the nostrils,” Amy said, then pressed her lips together. Heather’s bestie simply couldn’t help herself.
“Do you usually deliver orders together?” Julia asked, her gaze resting on Amy’s for a moment too long. “Because I could go without the sass. While you’re under my roof, you’ll go by my rules.”
“I take these rules include scarring the nasal passages of your guests,” Amy retorted.
Julia drew herself up straight and tugged at the long, floaty sleeves of her chiffon blouse. “How dare you speak –”
“Ladies,” Heather said, and raised her palms. She pressed them outward in either direction, one for the ‘grieving’ mother and the other for Ames. “Please. This is not the time to get into an argument.”
Julia wilted and settled into her armchair. “You’re right, of course,” she said. “Fighting isn’t what Cheeky would’ve wanted.”
Cheeky. That was why they were here. Heather cast a glance in Amy’s direction, then sent her a subliminal bestie message – ‘distract her.’
Amy pursed her lips.
“Will you two stay for donuts?” Julia asked. “I miss having the company. Samantha is hardly ever home these days and with Cheeky gone, I can’t handle the silence.”
“Why don’t you just pour some essential oils on it,” Amy muttered, but too low for Julia to hear, this time.
Heather placed her palm on the small of Amy’s back and guided her toward the sofa.
“I think we will join you, Julia,” Heather replied. “But hey, do you mind if I use your bathroom? Amy will keep you company while I’m gone.”
Ames stiffened, and her lips pursed tighter than ever before. Oh boy, she’d get an earful about this later.
“Sure. It’s down the hall to the right,” Julia said, then focused on Amy instead.
An awkward silence spilled across the coffee table. Heather nudged her bestie again.
“So,” Amy said, her tone taut. “Tell me about your modeling career.”
Yeah, Heather would pay in donuts, all right. The pained expression on Amy’s face said it all.
Julia launched into a tirade, instantly. “It all started when I –”
“Excuse me,” Heather said, softly, then hurried off down the hall. She slowed and checked the first room. A kitchen. Not what she had in mind. Heather continued and peered through a door on the right.
“And when he saw those fashion shots, I could tell that I would be a star. He was a manager at one of the most prestigious modeling agencies in –”
Heather tuned out the less than humble drone and nudged the door open with her toe. A bedroom. That was better. But who’s bedroom was it?
Picture frames hung on the purple walls, images of their hostess, smiling, posing and laughing.
“The first real photo shoot was when I was just eighteen years of age. I had to model a handbag. Can you believe that? Me? A handbag!” Julia giggled.
“No, please, tell me more,” Amy replied, in a monotone.
Heather stifled a grin and entered the bedroom. It was more like stepping into a B Grade celebrity’s trailer. Purple silk sheets, matching shut drapes and diamante-dressed lampshades. A glass jewelry box on the dresser and the mirror – oh gosh, the mirror. It was framed by twinkling lights.
“Has to be hers,” Heather muttered.
She tiptoed to the dresser and blinked beneath the harsh lights. Her reflection stared back at her, pale and hair mussed from the walk to the house. “Focus,” she said and looked herself in the eye. “Focus, Heather.”
She opened the top drawer and makeup tubes and brushes rolled into view. Nothing of use.
“So, I said to him, under no circumstances will I accept anything less than half a mil for a job of that size. No way. He bent to my will, of course. What
choice did he have? He couldn’t possibly lose such an important contact in the business. I was so popular I had to turn down offers every day.”
Amy had to be in her own personal version of Hades.
“Better make this quick or I’ll owe her ten boxes of donuts instead of two.” Heather shuffled to the nightstand and reached for the drawer.
Her fingers brushed cool plastic. A light flashed in the semi-gloom.
A cell phone!
“Bingo,” Heather whispered. A woman like Julia had to keep her life on her cell.
She grabbed the device, tapped on the screen, then swiped to unlock. An image of Julia James grinned up at her. Seriously, the woman had to have serious insecurities to be this self-obsessed.
Heather tapped through to her email inbox. A lock sign popped up, accompanied by a passcode. “Ugh. No luck.” She tapped through to the messages instead, then froze.
Message after message from Cheeky. An inbox full. Hundreds of them.
“I thought that she’d die from the embarrassment, but you never stop when you’re on the runway. I couldn’t help her up. What was I supposed to do? I mean, the situation called for concentration, professionalism. It wasn’t my fault that she messed it up.”
“Of course,” Amy said, and choked on the words.
Heather tapped through to the first message.
You think you’re going to do this? No one can compete with me, girl. No one. I am everything.
That was a sent message from Julia.
Mom, you’re losing it. I’m just trying to do the thing I love. That’s what you told me to do. Cheeky’s rational reply had come through minutes later.
Whatever. I know you’re trying to undermine me. You don’t even like doing nails.
“Heather’s taking a long time in the bathroom,” Julia said. “Maybe I should check she found it okay.”
“No, no, I’ll go,” Amy squeaked. “Please. I beg you.”
Heather dropped the phone on the bedside table, then scooted out of the room. She hurried down the hall and ran right into Amy. “Oof!”
“There you are,” Amy whispered. “I found her,” she said, loudly, then lowered her voice again. “You have no idea what I just had to sit through. No idea. You owe me big time for this one.”
“I know, I know. Relax. I found what I needed to and –”
“Amy,” Julia called out. “We haven’t finished our conversation yet. I wanted to tell you about Milan.”
“I hate my life,” Amy groaned. “This had better be worth it in the end, Shepherd.”
Heather patted her bestie on the shoulder. “As many donuts as you can eat.”
Chapter 13
A glaze of orange covered Hillside and low clouds scuttled across the horizon, in between the homes and trees. Heather’s favorite time to go for a walk. Lilly’s too if the whistles and giggles were anything to go by.
“And then what happened?” Heather asked.
Lilly whistled at Dave again, and the dog slowed his pace. “Then the dog trainer said we’d made real progress. I’m so excited Au-Heather. I know he’s not my dog, but I’ve never had a pet before, and Dave is just the best. The best!”
Heather grinned down at the girl, then squeezed her shoulder. “Dave is more your dog than he is mine, Lils.”
Lilly laughed again, then bent and scratched Dave between the ears. “I’m more excited about learning this kind of stuff than I am about anything at school.”
“What about making donuts?” Heather asked.
“That’s fun and everything,” Lilly replied, “but it’s not my passion. You know what I’d like to be?”
“What?”
Lilly’s cheeks colored, flushed from humiliation rather than the warm afterglow of a sunny afternoon. “Never mind, it’s dumb. It’s nothing.”
“C’mon, Lilly, I want to hear.”
“Promise you won’t laugh?” Lilly asked. “Or lecture me?”
“Hmm, the lecturing part is tough,” Heather replied, and the corners of her lips twitched upwards. “But all right. I promise. Scout’s honor.”
Lilly stood dead still, and Dave walked around at her feet, sniffing the sidewalk and licking at stains. “When I grow up, I want to be a dog trainer.”
“That’s awesome!”
“For the police.”
“Oh,” Heather said, and her brow wrinkled. An involuntary reaction. The thought of Lilly in any kind of danger set her pulse to race. “Uh, that’s good too. But why?”
Lilly swallowed and bit her index fingernail. “You see, so, I really like the idea of investigating.”
“Lilly.” Heather used her best ‘mom’ warning tone.
“I know; I’m not supposed to want to do that kind of stuff. I’m talking about when I’m older. I like comics and shows about investigating and also about the cop work and stuff. So, yeah. It would be great if I could be part of the K9 Unit or whatever it’s called. Can you imagine?”
“I – uh, I sure can.” She didn’t want to, but she could.
Lilly beamed up at her. “Thanks, Au-Heather. I thought you’d be angry at me if you found out about that.”
“Angry? No way. I’m happy you’ve found something you care about,” Heather replied.
Heavy footsteps tracked up behind them, and Dave barked, then hopped around to face the opposite direction. He yapped and growled, then reached back and worried the end of the leash with his teeth.
Lilly made a fist on the cord and hung on for dear life. “Dave?”
“Heather,” a man said.
Heather’s insides went cold, as a sense of dread crept over her. She turned in two swift steps. “Geoff Lawless,” she said. “I would say this is a coincidence, but I know better.”
“I need to talk to you.” The man mumbled the words through his bushy beard. Weeks had passed, and the beard hadn’t been trimmed or shaped. Wiry brown strands stood out at odd ends and waggled in the breeze.
“You don’t say,” she replied. “What’s this about? Donuts?” A pang of guilt accosted her tummy. She hadn’t focused on the orders at the store in a while. This week wasn’t a good time for anything except sleuthing.
Her final exam had seen to that.
“We need to talk in private,” Geoff said, and his beady-eyed gaze darted to Lilly and back again. “Now.”
Heather studied the oversized baker and sighed. The last time she’d seen him, he’d harassed a suspect in plain sight, and the time before… that bush hadn’t known what’d hit it.
“All right,” Heather said. “It’s probably best if we talk. Wouldn’t want you to do anything drastic, now would we, Geoff?”
“Drastic?” Lilly asked.
“Lils, would you mind taking Dave and standing under that tree over there?” Heather asked. “This won’t take long.”
Geoff grumbled wordlessly at that.
Lilly nodded once then whistled and brought Dave to heel. The usually tempestuous pup trotted after her, Geoff Lawless forgotten.
Heather drew her palm across her forehead. “All right, Lawless, what’s this about? I’ve got a lot to deal with this week and two seconds to spare for your –”
“I saw it happen,” Geoff said.
Heather froze mid-head wipe. “What? The murder?”
Geoff’s beard wiggled left, then right. He squinted down the street, then up it. “No. I saw her with the other woman.”
“Oh boy, that’s super illuminating.” Heather cast around for one of Amy’s impertinent jokes, but she was fresh out.
“The woman with the nails and the hair. What’s her name? The lady who runs around town telling everyone about that time on the runway in Milan, when –”
“Another model tripped, and she didn’t help her up?” Heather asked, and her skepticism transmogrified into a brook of excitement. What did Lawless know?
He could be a nuisance, but he did get around. He saw things she didn’t, possibly because he was a little bit creepy.
“Yea
h, that’s the one.”
“Okay, so let’s decipher the code here. You saw Julia James and someone else?”
“Yeah, the model lady slapped the other one, and her nail flew off. She ran away, and then she picked up the nail,” Geoff replied.
Heather resisted the urge to grab the burly guy by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. “Geoff,” she said. “Who did Julia slap?”
“Shy girl. Mouse of a girl. Kid with dark hair. Kinda weird.”
He was one to talk.
“Samantha!”
“If you say so. I don’t care about their names. I just know that the one is the mother of the dead nail girl.”
“All right.” Heather paced back a step, then looked over at Lilly and Dave. The two of them sat beneath the tree. Lilly spoke animatedly, and Dave paid rapt attention. “All right. So Julia slapped Samantha, and then her nail flew off. Who picked up the nail?”
“Mouse girl. And then she ran off.” Geoff made two fingers in the air and walked them on the spot. “Saw it a few days ago.”
“Why did you only tell me now?” Heather asked. She narrowed her eyes, then raised her finger at the overgrown beast man. “Geoff Lawless, have you been investigating again?”
“No. I don’t know. I’ve gotta go.” Geoff pushed past her and loped off into the distance, his overgrown trench coat flapping behind him like a cloak.
Heather didn’t bother watching him go. She’d seen that full tilt run too many times to count.
She crossed the road toward the girl and her dog, confusion crawling through her mind.
Chapter 14
“The more time I spend on the case, this week, the less time I spend in the store. I’m starting to feel like I don’t even own it, anymore,” Heather said.
Amy linked her arm through Heather’s then pinched the back of her hand, gently. “Don’t be silly. Everyone in the store knew that this week was going to be tough for you, what with the test and everything. No one expects you to be in there, creating and baking. There’s always next week and every week, after.”
“I know, I just miss it, is all,” Heather muttered. She shook her head to clear it and stared at the brass number on the front door of Lionel Janis’ apartment. She hadn’t knocked yet.
Chocolate Pomegranate Glaze Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 18 Page 5
