Carly cocked an eyebrow, saying, “I’m really not a car person.”
“It looks like a red sports car from the early 90’s like something Ferris Bueller would drive.”
“Ferris Bueller drove Cameron’s dad’s Ferrari 250 GT California Spyder, one of the most expensive cars of its era.”
“And you said you aren’t a car person,” she teased.
“I’m a movie person. There’s a difference.”
“Well, have you seen anything like it?”
“I can’t say that I have,” she mentioned, taking a sip of coffee. “But I spend the majority of my day in the back of my flower shop. I’m not exactly out and about.”
“Not even for deliveries?”
“I have a few employees that do that over the summer.”
Kate had only been picking at her muffin, so she broke the remainder of its top off and began seriously eating. She washed her bites down with decaf coffee, into which she was disappointed to discover she hadn’t added enough sugar. She started on her green tea as Carly finished her bagel.
“I’ve got to get back to the shop,” her friend said, rising to her feet.
Kate collected her plate, placing her empty coffee mug on it, and together they walked to the counter to return the ceramic dishes.
“Have a good one!” Molly told them, as they passed through the door and onto the hot sidewalk.
It felt like the air wasn’t even moving. There was no breeze, nothing but stifling heat.
“I’ll let you know how it goes with Lance,” said Carly after giving her a hug.
Kate watched her trek off down the sidewalk and when she rounded the hood of her car, Kate started off toward her truck.
She had very few leads to explore. The more promising of the two would be to look into the red car, but she didn’t know where to start. Could she go to the DMV? She didn’t think car ownership was public record and the annoying fact was that the car actually belonged to Nathan Robillard, so even if she did get a copy of the title, it wouldn’t tell her much.
The other lead was far less promising. Nathan had been frequenting a shop called Vape Mods, and there was a chance the owner or an employee might know him well enough to have a sense of who Nathan’s friends were. But it would likely be a substantial list and getting their addresses would be no easy task.
As she climbed into her truck, she reasoned that stopping by the vape store made more sense than cruising around town, eyes peeled for a red Ford Thunderbird. So, she started off driving in that direction, having memorized the address.
After a few minutes of driving, the hot air was sucked out of her truck through her open windows, so she powered them up, sealing the truck, and then cranked the air conditioner as high and cold as it would go.
As it had appeared on her Google search, Vape Mods was located in a strip mall. The store itself was poorly marked and from the outside looked more like a vacant retail space than a fully-operational business.
She pulled into a parking spot, killed the engine, and pulled her key from the ignition. After locking her truck—she didn’t like the looks of the other vehicles around, but worse, there were a number of teenagers loitering around the parking lot—Kate approached the glass door of the vape store.
The sun was so bright that it reflected off the glass and she couldn’t see a thing inside, but she yanked on the door anyway.
It didn’t budge.
Shielding the glare from her eyes, she pressed her face to the glass to try and get a sense of whether someone was inside, but it looked empty except for a bare counter and stacks of packing boxes.
She stepped back and eyed the door, and a buzzer caught her eye. Pushing it, she heard the blaring ring inside, but no one came to the door.
She backed up and again studied the door and the storefront window, looking for a realtor’s sign that she might have missed, but there wasn’t one.
Suddenly, the glass door popped open and a young man of about eighteen or twenty peeked his head out. He was wearing a bright red baseball cap and white tee shirt, and he stared at her, confused.
“Hi,” she said before he could disappear inside the store. “This is Vape Mods, right?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“So...can I come in?”
“Why?”
“To buy some vape?”
He looked her up and down. “You smoke e-cigarettes?” he asked, highly skeptical.
“I used to chain smoke,” she lied. “E-cigs saved my life and I’m out of...liquid.”
“Juice,” he said, correcting her.
“Right, I’m out of juice.”
He widened the door for her and she stepped inside the store, asking, “Are you guys planning on moving locations?”
“No,” he said easily, which only confused her more. He led her to the counter where there wasn’t a stitch of product under the glass. “So what’s your nic level?”
Christ, she was in way over her head. It sounded like he was speaking a foreign language. Feeling bold, she guessed, “Eighty?”
He burst out laughing and it was a long moment before he sobered up. “Eighty?” he questioned. “Lady, why are you really here?”
“I told you.”
“Because you want to buy juice with 80 mgs of nicotine. That would kill you, not to mention nic levels don’t come higher than 18. So, what do you really want?”
“What do you really sell?” she countered, knowing full well if he did sell these e-cigarette products, it clearly wasn’t his main business. She prayed to God that he wouldn’t say drugs.
“E-cigarettes,” he maintained.
“Then why don’t you have any on display?”
“Spring cleaning.”
He wasn’t sounding so friendly anymore, so she asked, “Are you the owner?”
“No, I’m an employee.”
“Then I’d like to speak with the owner.”
“He’s not here.”
“I’ll settle for his name,” she pressed.
He studied her for a long moment then said, “Kiernan Kirkland.”
“And when will Kiernan be in?”
“Hard to say. The store has been doing so well that he rarely comes in.”
She found that hard to believe, but decided to shift tactics. “One of your customers, Nathan Robillard—” she began.
“What about him?”
Had he not heard Nathan had been killed?
She went on, “He lent his car out to a friend, and I’m wondering if you know who that is?”
“His car?” he asked, thrown. Then it gradually dawned on him who she was, though he was way off. “You’re the repo guy. I knew it. I knew you weren’t a vaper. Am I right?”
“Yes,” she said definitively. “And I need to know where that car is.”
“Damn,” he said, shaking his head at the tremendous loss. “That makes sense. Nathan would never have lent that car to anyone. He loves it.”
“Just tell me who has it,” she insisted, sounding tired.
“Rory Andover,” he said reluctantly. “He’s over on Rock Ridge Blvd.” He gave her the address then added, “He’s probably at work now, though.”
“Where does he work?”
“Harriet’s Hairdos.”
“What?”
The kid rolled his eyes. “He’s a shampoo boy,” he said, laughing. “That’s probably why Nathan lent him his car as opposed to me or any of our other friends. Rory’s not exactly into the same...hobbies as we are so there’s no risk he’d damage the Thunderbird.”
Clearly, he was referring to all the drag racing Nathan and his friends had been doing.
“Thanks,” she said, wasting no time to cross out of the store.
Rory Andover had to be the killer, and Kate wasn’t entirely sure how she was going to bring him down.
Chapter Six
Kate stepped into Harriet’s Hairdos located on Main Street in the center of Rock Ridge. The salon was furnished in pink and all the sty
lists wore extravagant hairstyles and flashy dresses. She hadn’t set foot in the salon in what felt like years, and compared to the women who worked there, Kate felt more than shabby in her jean shorts and yellow t-shirt.
The receptionist behind the counter lowered her phone, setting it in its cradle on the desk, and stood to greet her.
“Cut and color?” she asked.
“Uh, no actually,” said Kate, glancing around for any male shampoo boys. “I’m looking for Rory Andover. Is he here?”
“He just went out for supplies,” she said then leaned over the counter, “We like to send him out to pick up our shampoo from the warehouse rather than spend money to wait days for shipping. He should be back soon.”
“How soon?” asked Kate. She was tempted to ask where the warehouse was located, but the risk of bypassing the Thunderbird would be too great.
“Not long. A half hour?” she guessed. “Forty-five minutes tops. Why?”
“I just need a few minutes of his time,” she said vaguely. “Hey, can you tell me if he was working here the day before yesterday?”
The receptionist seemed reluctant, but ultimately shrugged and began flipping through a binder on her desk. After she scrolled through a few shift slots on a laminated sheet, she said, “Tuesday? No, Rory wasn’t in.”
Another indicator in favor of Rory being the killer, thought Kate.
She thanked the woman and mentioned she’d have a seat if that was all right.
“If you haven’t been here in a while,” said the receptionist. “We’re running a special promotion. Cut and color for fifty percent off. You can’t beat that deal.”
“Oh, I don’t know...”
“What if I told you we’d have it done by the time Rory got back?”
Kate was surprised to find herself very, very tempted.
“I’ve got a stylist just twiddling her thumbs over there,” the receptionist went on. “How about fifty-five percent off the cost? That’s just thirty bucks, and we have complimentary coffee, tea, watermelon—”
“Watermelon?”
“It’s very refreshing.”
Kate returned to the counter and found her wallet in her back pocket. She had enough cash including a tip, and considering she hadn’t done a thing for her looks since before she had gotten pregnant with Josephine, she figured she deserved a little pampering. Not to mention that as soon as Scott got his week off from the precinct, they would be going out a lot more often.
“You know what?” said Kate. “I’ll do it.”
“Great!” She collected the cash and then brought Kate to a styling chair where one of the stylists stepped in beside her.
Kate sat and the stylist, a woman in her mid-thirties whose blond hair was up in a tall beehive, began fluffing and flicking Kate’s red hair.
“I’m Lona,” she said.
“Kate.”
“Didn’t you come in here a million years ago? You bought a gift certificate for your friend, Carly?”
Shocked at her razor-sharp memory, Kate said, “That’s right. How did you know that?”
“I never forget a face...or a transaction. I partnered with Harriet a number of years ago. It’s nice to have you back.” After examining the texture and length of Kate’s hair and playing around with some shapes, she explained, “You have a round face and your eyes are really big, but your chin’s pointy. With all this length, you’re actually hiding your features. I say we bring it up, not short, but almost in a bob, and then we feather some layers around your cheekbones and give you little fringe across the forehead.”
As she explained, Kate tried to visualize what she would look like, and it sounded good.
“I don’t want to mess with the color,” Lona went on. “It’s a wonderful, rich red, but we can do a gloss to bring out the natural color and highlights.”
“Sounds great,” she said, getting a little excited about how she would look and how Scott might react. When they had met in high school, her hair had been shorter and over the years he had often asked her to get that style again.
Lona shampooed Kate’s hair since Rory wasn’t around, and then she brought her back to the styling chair where the receptionist was waiting with herbal tea, sparkling water, and a bowl of balled watermelon. As Lona snipped and trimmed, Kate snacked on the watermelon and sipped the tea, which to her palate tasted like jasmine and lavender.
When the cut was complete, Lona brought her over to the sink again and stroked gloss on her hair then let her sit under a heater for a good fifteen minutes.
After that, the stylist blow-dried her hair, and when all was said and done, Kate was itching to go out dancing; she looked that good.
“Wow! I look amazing! I look younger!” she exclaimed, studying her reflection in the handheld mirror from all angles where it bounced off the mirrored glass at the station.
“I’m glad you like it,” said Lona.
As Kate set the hand mirror down on the station counter, she caught sight of a young man stepping in from the back with a box in his arms. It had to be Rory.
Again, she thanked Lona and handed her a generous tip from the spare cash in her back pocket, and then snuck over to the receptionist.
“Is that him?” she asked quietly. “Is that Rory?”
“Yes,” she said. She called him over, shouting, “Rory come over here. Someone needs to talk to you.”
He set down the box at the back of the salon and then made his way toward her. Similar to the employee at Vape Mods, Rory looked not a day over twenty. His skin was very tan considering summer had just barely set in, and his black jeans and purple t-shirt fit him so well that Kate was inclined to guess he was gay. As soon as he spoke, her suspicion was confirmed.
“Yes?” he asked.
Kate snuck a glance at the receptionist who was flipping through a magazine. She wondered if they might find a more private place to talk.
“I’m Kate,” she began. “I know Nathan Robillard lent you his car.”
His eyes widened and he said nothing for a long moment then burst out with, “I called off the case. I told the police. I didn’t mean to waste anyone’s time. And I apologized. Wait,” he said abruptly, looking her up and down. “You’re not a cop.”
“What case?”
“I reported the Thunderbird stolen,” he explained. “I was worried sick about it, but then later that day the car magically appeared in front of my house. The second it did, I called the cops back to tell them they didn’t need to look for it anymore. I was mortified.”
“Someone stole your car?”
“Yeah.”
“Tuesday?”
“That’s right.”
Kate was getting the impression that like the Vape Mods guy, Rory hadn’t gotten word of Nathan’s murder.
“Tell me exactly where the car was when it was stolen. I want the place, time, everything. And where you found it again.”
“Sure,” he said, “but I mean, I have the car. It’s fine.”
He had no idea how not fine this was. But he obliged, grabbing a pen and pad of paper from the receptionist’s desk and jotting the details down as best he could.
“Do you have any idea who might have taken it?” she asked after he’d handed her the sheet of paper.
“I have a lot of ideas. Three to be exact.” Rory stepped in and spoke quietly. “Nathan and some of his friends like to drag race. Nathan’s Thunderbird always wins. I mean always. And these weren’t little, friendly races. The guys were betting. Nathan kept cleaning them out. But anyone who stole his car couldn’t exactly race it without incriminating themselves.”
But they could kill Nathan, she thought. Wipe out the competition; maybe steal their money back or at least feel satisfied that the young man who had won their money was six feet under.
Maybe that’s how the killer got Nathan on that roof. Maybe he stole the Thunderbird from Rory, and then called Nathan to return it or possibly threaten that he would damage the car if they didn’t meet.
> Kate asked, “Was Nathan...involved with anyone?”
The look on his face told her that he knew exactly whom she was referring to.
“Yeah, Sandra Conway, how did you know?”
“I have some bad news for you,” she said. “Nathan was killed and Sandra was arrested, but I don’t believe she did it.”
“Nathan’s dead?” he asked, shocked.
“And the killer was driving that car.”
“Oh my God,” he said under his breath, truly stunned.
“You said there were three guys?”
“Uh, yeah, I can give you their names. Marcus Wheaton, Hunter Cole, and Kiernan Kirkland.”
“Kiernan Kirkland? They guy who owns Vape Mods?”
“Yeah,” he said in a queasy tone. “Hunter and Marcus also work there, and trust me, it’s not a vape store.”
Kate knew it, and asked, “What are they really selling.”
“Car parts—hard to get stuff. Parts that will soup-up an engine and get the vehicle to really peel out faster than zero to sixty in ten seconds.”
“Do you know if Sandra knew any of those guys since they were Nathan’s friends and she was involved with him?”
“She definitely knew them, but they did not get along. Sandra was always calling the police and also trying to get Nathan to stop racing. She hated them.”
Kate asked one final question. “Do you know if any of them have read Sandra’s book, Notes of a Strangler?”
He looked at her confusedly, which was enough of an answer.
“All right,” she said in conclusion. “Thanks a lot.”
She was getting somewhere, she thought, as she made her way out to her truck. But with the Thunderbird back in Rory’s possession and the murder weapon with police, she wasn’t sure how she would find evidence that connected one or all of those guys to Nathan’s murder.
The smartest thing for her to do at this point was to pay Sandra Conway a visit in jail and see if the writer might shed light on the three men and who would’ve been most likely to take her lover’s life.
After Kate climbed into her truck, she angled the rearview mirror at herself to check out her new haircut again. She was tempted to text Maxwell to see if he could watch Josephine through the evening and then call Scott about going out for dinner, but until she made further headway with this case, she couldn’t commit to anything.
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