If the Shoe Kills

by Lynn Cahoon

  An hour later, I found a mention of Becky and Ted. Apparently a gossip columnist had seen them on an alleged date at the boardwalk carnival. The woman had known Ted’s family history and apparently played up the fact that Becky “might” be underage. I moved down to the next entry from the search listing. A full retraction of the column as well as a mention of how the author had been let go. The newspaper regretted their inaccurate portrayal of an upstanding member of the community.

  I didn’t think they were referencing Becky.

  I bookmarked the web pages and wrote the links in my notebook just in case. I closed down the laptop and glanced at Emma, who slept curled up on the couch next to me. “Time for bed?”

  She jumped up and went to the bottom of the stairs and waited. I turned off the lights and glanced out the window toward town, wondering what had happened on Main Street tonight and praying that Marie was all right.

  Friday morning came without the alarm going off, since Toby and Jackie worked all the shifts, giving me a full day off. Jackie liked having Monday and Tuesday off. And Toby just liked working. I wondered how long that would be the case once he had a family to go home to. It sounded like that time was closer than I’d imagined.

  After Emma and I ran, I puttered around the house, throwing in laundry, considered a grocery run, and then found myself curled up on the couch with a book. When the cell chimed, I considered letting it go to voice mail, but saw the shop’s number on the display. “Hey, how are things this morning?”

  “Peachy.” Aunt Jackie’s voice sounded pleased with herself, like she’d just won a salesmanship prize. “Did you know Marie’s shop was vandalized last night?”

  “Good morning to you, too.” I absently petted Emma’s head. “Have you seen her? Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine. Madder than a wet cat, but fine. She came over and bought coffee for the work crew that’s replacing her window. Does Greg know who did it yet?”

  I pursed my lips. I hadn’t even thought about calling to see what he’d found out. Maybe I was losing my touch on this sleuthing thing. Last night Darla had called me basically clueless and now I hadn’t even called my one reliable source. “If he does, he hasn’t told me.” I sat forward on the couch. “Maybe I should come down and talk to Marie.”

  “Don’t bother. She drove into Bakerstown to pick up Mindy. She’s giving her some real work for the next week.”

  The line quieted and I’d thought I’d lost the connection.

  “You know, if we all gave up a few hours, we could bring Sasha on full-time after the first of the year. It would give her time to get up and running before tourist season hits full force. And we always need extra help during whale-watching season.”

  My aunt had made the pitch I’d been thinking about for a week. “We’ll see. I’ll talk to Toby first. I don’t want to short him hours to bring on someone new.”

  “I’m sure he’d be on board with the program.” Jackie paused. “By the way, we’re having a little party next Saturday.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  “Coffee, Books, and More. We’re doing a book drive promotion and bringing all the kids into the shop to meet Santa and give him their wish list. I’m sure I mentioned this to you when we set up the program.”

  “I’m pretty sure I would have remembered a party.” I walked into the kitchen and pulled out a notebook, needing to start writing down all the things that needed to be done in a week. “I don’t have a lot of time to pull this off.”

  “No worries, Sasha and I are handling everything.” Jackie sniffed. “Besides, the mayor’s wife flat-out told us we couldn’t have a Santa because it didn’t fit with her festival plans. She thinks the New Age parents will be insulted.”

  “Wait, so you’re not having Santa?”

  Jackie laughed. “You’re kidding, right? I told the witch to go ruin someone else’s holiday. That we’ve got plans and won’t be participating in her watered-down holiday festival. I hear she wanted a black and silver theme. Who does black and silver for Christmas? I swear, the woman is crazy.”

  “When did you talk to Tina?” I groaned. The mayor would be calling me into his office for once again failing to support his wife’s mission. I was beginning to hate Christmas.

  “This morning. She came in looking for you with a list of dos and don’ts three pages long. I threw it away.”

  “Aunt Jackie, did it ever occur to you to play nice? The woman is in charge of the town’s festival program this year. Maybe we should at least read the material she’s presenting.” I heard the door chime to the shop.

  “Fine. I’ll pull the Nazi woman’s list out of the trash and put it on your desk. But you aren’t telling me no on the kid’s Santa party. I think this could become a CBM tradition.” Jackie called out a greeting to the customer. “Look, I’m busy. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Then the line went dead.

  I flipped through my call history, just to make sure I hadn’t missed a call from City Hall today. But no, the call from Jackie had been my first of the day. Not unusual in quiet times, but I knew Tina wouldn’t let Jackie’s refusal stay unpunished. I would be getting a reprimand.

  I started a list of items that needed to be completed before next week’s party. I checked my pre-planning list for Thanksgiving. Nothing I needed to do this weekend, but next weekend was chock-full of must-dos. I highlighted a few chores and moved them up a week.

  Greg found me out in the shed at four, still in sweats, my hair pulled into a ponytail. I had gone through most of the boxes and still hadn’t found the gravy boat in Miss Emily’s good china pattern I knew I’d seen. I had found a glass turkey centerpiece vase for the table; all I had to do was purchase a potted plant to set inside the brown glass feathered body.

  He kissed the top of my head as he surveyed the mess. “You looking for something?”

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious.” I glared at him. “The rose-patterned gravy boat that goes with the good china.”

  “The one in the china cabinet in the living room?” Greg appeared puzzled.

  I groaned. “It isn’t in there, is it?” I’d spent the last four hours digging through the boxes of china and other miscellaneous stuff. I’d meant to get an antique dealer in from Bakerstown to appraise the lot and sell what I didn’t want. I just couldn’t bring myself to part with my friend’s stuff, not quite yet.

  “Remember, we came out and found the missing serving pieces last month when you were freaking out about Thanksgiving?” He pulled me into a hug. “What’s got you going today?”

  “Jackie’s decided to host a party with Santa at the shop next week for the center kids. It threw off all my plans; now I have to move things around.” I stepped away from Greg and closed a box and pushed it to the side, dusting off my hands. I surveyed the piles of boxes. “I need to do something with these.”

  “You will, when you’re ready. No need to push the process.”

  I watched him, standing in the gloom of the shed as the daylight drained from the one dirty window. “You’re pretty good at this boyfriend thing, you know?”

  His grin flashed. “Better than you realize sometimes. Now, let’s go in. I thought we’d have an early dinner since I didn’t have lunch, and if I’m right, you forgot to eat.”

  My stomach growled in answer. “I’ve been busy.” I waved my hands around the shed. “Looking for something that apparently I’d already found.”

  Greg put his arm around me and we walked together toward the house. “Life’s a lot like that, sweetheart.”

  The smell of chicken Alfredo and garlic bread hit me as soon as we walked into the kitchen door. I kissed Greg on the cheek. “You cooked.”

  He laughed as I dug through the cabinet for plates and silverware. “I ordered. We may not be able to have the whole evening to ourselves, but we can carve out an hour or so.” He disappeared into the living room, returning with the gravy boat. He set it down on the table with a low bow. “Tada!”
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  “Total waste of an afternoon.” I slid half the noodles onto each plate, topping the brimming plates off with fresh parmesan and a couple of slices of garlic bread.

  Greg picked up the glass turkey centerpiece. “I wouldn’t say it was a waste. This is interesting.”

  I held up a soda out of the fridge and cocked my head in an unspoken question to Greg. He nodded so I grabbed two. “You say ‘interesting’ like it’s ugly.”

  He took a bite of the Alfredo. “I suppose someone liked it enough to buy the thing in the first place. Unless she made it in one of those classes Marie gives.”

  “Oh God, I forgot about Marie.” I ignored Greg’s jab at the centerpiece. I liked it. Miss Emily had liked it. So it was going on the table. “How is she? Jackie said she was steaming mad when she saw her.”

  Greg laughed. “Last night she ranted against the kids hanging around town so hard she made Josh look like a Boy Scout leader. She was certain some misguided youth was to blame.”

  “You think it was one of our kids?” We’d gone through a perceived youth problem the past summer with Josh Thomas spewing hateful jibes at what he called “the loitering mass of the unwashed.” Actually we’d had problems with one kid, and that kid had been more attached to a gone-bad motorcycle gang than her fellow teenagers.

  “I don’t think so. But who knows? She did mention the two of you had talked. Is that what you wanted to tell me last night?”

  I nodded, my mouth too full of pasta to talk.

  “I still don’t buy her as a killer.” Greg chewed a bite from the slice of garlic bread, his look troubled. “What I did find out today was interesting, though.”

  “Interesting in a good way or an ugly way, like the centerpiece?” I took a bite of the creamy fettuccini noodles and almost groaned, it was so good.

  “I don’t hate the centerpiece,” Greg countered.

  I swallowed and pointed my fork at him. “And you didn’t answer my question, either.”

  He wiped his mouth on a paper napkin and teepeed his fingers together, watching me. Finally he spoke. “The fingerprints on the brick that was thrown through Marie’s window matched the ones we found on the paper from the threat left on your porch.”

  CHAPTER 16

  After Greg left, I cleaned up the kitchen and wandered through the house. He’d returned to the station to meet with the district attorney. “Just a routine update session,” Greg had said, trying to assuage my fears. But no matter how positive a picture he’d tried to paint on the evidence, he was worried.

  Besides, I knew one thing. Whoever had killed Ted was still in town, trying to scare off anyone who might be close to solving the murder. Marie had declared that she was going after the estate for money she felt owed. Me, I had just been the unlucky person to find the body. And you have a history of solving murders, my rational side added.

  Whatever was going on, I needed to figure out who wanted Ted dead and fast. Marie’s name was still on my top-ten list, but honestly, even I didn’t believe she had the guts to shoot someone. Up close and personal? That took passion and heat. Marie was scared of Ted still, but not angry.

  I stood at my front window gazing out on the ocean view that I could see if I stood on my tiptoes. I wanted to slip into my running clothes and take Emma down to the beach, but I’d promised Greg I’d stay close to the house tonight. My gaze dropped down to the flower bed along the front porch. Gardening I could do, at least until the sun dropped below the horizon.

  I grabbed my gloves, a trash sack, and a carryall that held a small shovel, a trowel, and a mini hoe. I called Emma and we headed out front, my cell in my pocket just in case. She wandered through the front yard as I pulled weeds and dug up the beds in preparation for bulbs I’d buy on Monday.

  As I worked, my mind wandered through the facts I’d known about Ted. For a guy I’d only met a few weeks ago, there was surprisingly a lot of material already in neat lists in my project notebook. I’d thought about calling it an investigation manual, but thought Greg might not find the humor. Besides, if it said “project” on the front, he wouldn’t be tempted to look inside, especially if he thought it could mean a weekend remodeling my upstairs bath. (That item was totally on the to-do list. As soon as this investigation was over.)

  Starting at the beginning, I listed out my facts. Ted had lived most his life in Boston. Had married and scared away one wife, Marie. Then, out of nowhere, he decided to move across the country three years ago to work at a program director position that probably paid less than what he’d paid for housing back in Beantown. That had to be because the private investigator had found Marie. But why wait three years before approaching her? Or trying to run her down in the street on his first visit to South Cove? Now that made no sense at all.

  “You’re troubled,” a soothing voice said.

  I sighed. “Darn right, I am. The whole thing doesn’t make sense.”

  Emma barked from her favorite napping spot on the porch and ran to the fence. Crap, that voice hadn’t been in my head. I had a visitor. I pulled off my gloves and stood, brushing the dirt off my knees. Turning, I saw my neighbor petting and whispering to my dog. Esmeralda had come to call. I steeled myself, squaring my shoulders, and walked to the fence.

  “Esmeralda, so nice of you to drop by.” I glanced over at her house, ablaze with light. “I assumed you’d have clients coming in tonight.”

  “I do. The sitting doesn’t start for another thirty minutes or so. But as I was preparing myself in my reading room, I was told to come to see if you were all right.” She straightened from petting Emma. “Your dog is an old soul.”

  I smiled and Emma licked my hand softly. “Now that I believe. She’s been a blessing. No puppy terrors for her. Now, if I could get her to stop chewing.”

  “Emma’s worried about you. She says that there are dark forces surrounding the house.” Esmeralda scanned the area. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice them before. You need to be careful.”

  I laughed and Esmeralda’s eyes widened. “You’re always saying that. Both you and Greg are sounding like broken records. Don’t get involved. Stop investigating. Be careful, the dark forces are out to get you.”

  “People do care about you.” My neighbor sniffed, her eyes narrowing.

  A heat of shame crept through me. She was only trying to be nice. In a crazy gypsy fortune-teller way, but nice. “Sorry. I’m a little on edge tonight. That’s why I came out to work in the flower beds. Idle hands, you know.”

  “I don’t think that’s funny, Jill. You don’t want to even use that word until things are cleaned up around here.” Esmeralda glanced back at her house, where a black Town Car had pulled into the driveway. She started to walk away from the fence.

  I frowned. “I don’t understand, what word?”

  She turned back toward me. “The devil. We had a devil killed in town. Now his murderer is still running free, jacked up with stolen power.”

  I watched as she hurried across the road and greeted her guest. I squinted to watch the woman who climbed out of the back of the car. I recognized her. Glancing up at the man who stood dressed in a black suit holding the door open, there was no doubt in my mind. David stood there. Regina was Esmeralda’s client. I wondered who from the spirit world would be visiting through the fortune teller’s glass ball. Maybe Regina’s husband wasn’t in a big city making money while she and David played by the seashore. I could have read that all wrong. If Regina was a widow, that would explain the ring and the trip to Esmeralda’s.

  Emma whined next to me.

  I reached down and patted her head. “Ready for dinner?”

  She bounded toward the porch, and when she reached the front door, she turned and barked.

  “I’m coming. Hold on.” I grabbed my gardening kit from the lawn and set it on the front porch so I could finish the bed preparation tomorrow after work. Then Emma and I went into the house. As I locked the front door, my gaze caught Esmeralda’s house. The place appeared welcom
ing, even inviting in the dusky light. I hoped Regina would find peace with the information Esmeralda told her. If I’d known it was Regina, I would have put a bug in the fortune teller’s ear about a new love from an old friendship or some crap like that.

  But maybe Esmeralda was perceptive enough to pick up on David’s longing for his boss all on her own.

  After filling Emma’s bowl, I grabbed my own and filled it with ice cream. Then I turned on the television and found a sappy old movie. So much for an exciting Friday night. I kept looking out the window to see when Regina and David left, but when the movie ended, I walked over to peer out and the Town Car was still there. Emma nudged my leg.

  “Yep, bedtime.” She trotted over to the kitchen door and sat waiting for me to follow. I double-checked the locks on the front door, then grabbed my empty bowl and went to the kitchen to let Emma out. I rinsed my bowl and set it in the half-filled dishwasher. During the next week or so, I’d hand-wash the good china, getting everything ready for the big day. Desserts I’d already ordered from Sadie. I’d found three different stuffing recipes, corn bread, oyster, and what Jackie called “normal stuffing.” I’d read every holiday-based cookbook I had in stock at the store, and ordered two more last week, just to make sure I wasn’t forgetting something. I’d even found a fresh cranberry recipe but planned on buying a can of the clear jellied type just in case. Holidays were special. You never knew what missing one thing could do to ruin a dinner.

  I’d talked to Greg about his holiday memories. Since it was now just him and Jim, I didn’t want to forget the one dish that would cause the day to miss the mark. Greg thought I was obsessing, but I also knew he thought it was better than me worrying about Ted’s murder. I wiped down the kitchen counter and turned off the lights. Letting Emma in, I repeated my routine and double-checked the locks on the back door, then we jogged up the stairs to the bedroom. I’d snuck a soda in my jacket pocket and had a book or two on the bedside. Even if I couldn’t sleep, I could get lost in a story.

  Jackie had already opened the shop when I arrived the next morning. Piles of floor pillows lay stacked in corners and by the bookshelves. One big overstuffed chair sat over by the history section, a white fur rug on the floor in front of it. A table sat nearby with a bowl of candy canes. Santa’s den was almost ready. I could just see Toby sitting in the chair, grinning at each child as they whispered their secret wish list to the big guy.