“Suit yourself.” Gretchen went back inside the tent, humming.
I followed the back path behind the cabins to where Berta and her chicken cohorts pecked at the dirt, hoping to snag an extra seed they’d missed during an earlier feeding.
“I think you got it all,” I told her.
Berta’s head snapped up, a mean gleam in her eye. With a flutter of wings, she ran at the fence, trying to peck me through the wire.
“Hey, I was only trying to save you some time,” I said. I moved on before Berta flew the coop and pecked my eyes out. At the pigsty next door, Wilbur wallowed in the mud, not bothering to stand when he saw my hands were empty of treats. What was with these animals today?
I cut past the redwood tree and was walking by the pool, when I saw Detective Palmer exit the dining room through the French doors. I did a double take. What was he doing here?
As he started across the patio, I intercepted him. “Looking for me?”
Detective Palmer gave me the once-over. “No. I was told the guest cabins are back here.”
I clasped my hands together in anticipation. “Is this about Preston’s murder?”
The detective pulled a stick of gum from his pocket, unwrapped it, and folded it into his mouth, placing the wrapper back in his pocket. “What makes you ask?”
“I know Marvin is staying here.” I stepped closer. “Are you about to arrest him?”
“I’m here for follow-up questions. Nothing more.”
“Oh.” I felt disappointment bloom. Not only did I want the police to catch Wendy’s killer, but I would have loved to see the big arrest before I read about it in one of Jason’s articles. The detective started to walk away, and I spoke before he got too far. “Hey, I was at the movies last night.”
“Congratulations,” Detective Palmer said with nary a hint of sarcasm as he turned back.
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. “There’s more.”
“I was hoping.”
“I saw Wendy’s brother, Kurt, there, with her assistant, Drew.”
“Sometimes other people go to the movies, too.”
Geez, this guy should do stand-up. “But they were together. And Drew said they’ve been in a relationship for a while.”
He chewed his gum. “Yes, she told us the same thing.”
This time, I did roll my eyes. “You mean you already knew?”
Detective Palmer’s gum chomping sped up. “Believe it or not, we are professionals. We don’t sit around all day waiting for clues from private citizens who fancy themselves modern-day Nancy Drews.”
I felt my cheeks heat up. “I’m trying to help.”
“Then stop involving yourself in this case.”
Where was the fun in that? “Look, I want to make sure Wendy isn’t forgotten. She was a good person, no matter what anyone says.”
“Which is why we’re logging so many man-hours. To make sure she gets justice, as well as Preston. That’s our job, not yours.”
I looked at my shoes. “Duly noted.” Of course, if I found a clue or two myself, the police could wrap up the case that much faster.
Detective Palmer shook his head and moved toward the cabins. I watched his retreating back, troubled by the thought running through my mind: Is he any closer to solving the case, or is he as stumped as I am?
29
I went back into the office and worked steadily on the marketing campaign until lunchtime. Zennia waved off my offer to help serve, and I decided to take an actual lunch break for a change. I grabbed my keys and purse, jumped into my car, and revved down the road, swinging through the McDonald’s drive-thru for a Big Mac and an apple pie.
Taking my delicious treasures home, I settled in at the kitchen table and unwrapped my burger. As I was sinking my teeth into the first bite, Mom came out of her bedroom. She eyed the take-out bag and the sauce on my chin, but she didn’t comment as she adjusted the collar on her navy blue blouse, then felt along her pearl necklace to make sure the clasp wasn’t showing.
I chewed and swallowed. “You look fabulous.”
“Thank you. I’m off to work.”
Oops, what kind of a bad kid am I? I hadn’t even remembered to ask about the first day at her new job. Must be because of all the people dying around here. “How do you like your job?”
“I think I’ve found my element. The customers are so friendly and seem to appreciate my advice on colors and accessories.”
“You’re a natural. I’ve always thought you were one of the best-dressed ladies in town.”
Mom tittered. “Oh, stop. You’re just buttering me up so I won’t mention that lunch of yours. Is that an apple pie peeking out of your bag?”
I folded down the top of the bag. “Thanks for not mentioning it.” I winked at her.
Mom sat down and adjusted one earring. “What have you been up to lately? I haven’t seen much of you.”
I wiped my mouth. “The usual. Work and a date with Jason.” I left out all my activities related to Wendy’s and Preston’s murders, knowing my involvement would ruin her good mood.
“Didn’t you have dinner with his parents the other night? How did that go?”
“Great. They were very friendly.”
Mom stopped fiddling with her earring and folded her hands on the table. “What does this mean for your relationship with Jason? Are you two getting serious?”
I pulled at the lettuce on my burger, considering. “I think we’re both happy with where our relationship stands right now. I freaked out a bit when he first said he wanted me to meet his parents, but then I decided he was just taking advantage of their visit. They don’t come to Blossom Valley very often. I don’t think he meant anything more by it.” If he did, he hadn’t shared it with me.
“If you say so. Jason’s a nice boy.” Mom stood and kissed the top of my head. “I’d better run. I’d hate to be late on my second day.”
I took another bite of burger as Mom gathered her jacket and purse and went to the garage. I listened to the garage door rumble up, the car engine start, and the door rumble down. While I ate my food in silence, I thought about Lily and what terrible thing she could have possibly done. Had she forgotten to bring her reusable bags to the store? Left the water running while she brushed her teeth? Obviously, the issue was more serious than that, but what was it?
Too bad I didn’t have some way to get in touch with her. She was obviously hiding something. Maybe I could ask Gretchen later if she had her number. In the meantime, I’d just have to focus on someone else. Like Drew and Kurt. I needed to learn more about how Drew got her job at Invisible Prints. Struck with an idea, I pulled out my cell phone. Why don’t I just track down Drew and ask her?
I looked up the number for Invisible Prints and dialed. I wasn’t sure if Helen would be at the office, now that the place was basically shut down, but she seemed to be the type who wouldn’t quit working until the police chained the door shut.
Sure enough, on the third ring, Helen picked up. “Invisible Prints.”
“Hi, Helen. This is Dana Lewis. I spoke with you at the spa yesterday when you stopped by to see Marvin.”
“Yes?” She sounded perplexed.
I gripped the phone tighter. I’d rehearsed in my head what I was going to say, but now I worried my story would sound as fake as the processed cheese on my burger had tasted. “I was trying to reach Drew and was hoping you’d have her home number. I feel so bad that she’s out of work right now, and as luck would have it, Esther might have an opening for her.” I leaned my forehead on the table. All this lying was exhausting.
“How nice, Dana. I’m sure Drew would love to hear from you.”
I wouldn’t bet on it, not after our brief conversation at the movie theater last night, but I didn’t argue.
“Let me see if I can find her number.”
I heard pages rustling. “If it’s not too much trouble, could I have her address, too?”
“Her address?” Definite reservation in her tone
this time.
I scrambled to put her at ease. “Yes, last time I saw her, she mentioned how much she loved snickerdoodle cookies, and I baked a fresh batch this morning.” This last part was definitely over the top. I felt like my insides were being squished in a vise.
“I guess that would be fine.” She listed the address and phone number, and I entered the information into my cell phone. Then I thanked her and quickly hung up before she thought too hard about my preposterous story.
Mission accomplished, I took a few minutes to savor the apple pie, the filling still plenty hot. I was chewing the last bite when I heard the front door open. Ashlee bounced into the kitchen, her arms up in victory.
“Dana! The apartment manager called! We passed the credit check, and they’ve already cleaned the place. What do you think about moving in this weekend?”
I almost gagged on my pie. “This weekend? It’s a little soon, isn’t it?”
Sure, I’d signed the lease. Sure, the apartment was empty and ready. But deep down, I still didn’t quite believe that we were moving out of our childhood home and into an apartment together.
Ashlee dropped her Coach knockoff purse on the table and plopped onto a chair. “What are you waiting for?”
“I need to pack.”
“Pack what? Your five shirts and your old Cabbage Patch doll?”
I wanted to smack her, but she had a point. Packing would only take me a couple of hours—if I folded my clothes really slowly. I pulled a napkin from the take-out bag and wiped my hands. “We haven’t even ordered the furniture we picked out yet. Where will we sleep?”
“We can buy the furniture tomorrow and set up delivery. If they have to ship it, we can drag out our sleeping bags for a few days. It’ll be like a camp-out.”
The image of draining my nice little nest egg even further filled my head. The pie in my belly bubbled up. “I guess we could buy a couple of really necessary items,” I managed to choke out. “Maybe Mom’ll let us take that old TV in the garage she doesn’t use anymore.”
“God, Dana, do you know how old that thing is? It’s got that huge bulb in the back. I can’t even lift the thing.”
I flexed a bicep. “We’ll lift it together. New TVs cost money.”
Ashlee groaned. “I can suffer for a while with that thing, but then we’re getting a brand-new plasma TV, no arguments.”
I had plenty of arguments, but I’d save those for when we went TV shopping.
Ashlee went into the kitchen and started rummaging through the refrigerator. I crumpled up my napkin, tossed it in the paper bag with the rest of my lunch wrappings, and stuffed everything into the trash can under the sink. Talking with Ashlee had momentarily distracted me from my plan to visit Drew. One look at the clock showed I’d have to wait until after work. I didn’t have time now.
With a resigned sigh, I got back into my car and returned to the farm, already thinking about questions to ask Drew, such as whether Kurt had anything to do with her being hired at Invisible Prints. And what, if anything, she knew about Wendy’s death. Every time I saw Drew, she looked more tired and stressed. Considering her boss had been murdered, two million dollars was missing, and she’d been laid off, I didn’t blame her for seeming so concerned. But was there more bothering her, just in case that wasn’t enough?
The afternoon crawled by. No matter how many times I looked at the clock, it didn’t move any faster. When I’d about given up hope of ever ending the day, I hit my eight-hour mark. With renewed vigor, I yanked the bottom desk drawer open, removed my purse, and updated my time card. By now, my expectations for my talk with Drew were so high that I knew she’d have to confess to Wendy’s and Preston’s murders for me to feel satisfied. In truth, she’d probably reveal nothing.
But you never knew how these things might go. And that’s what I was counting on.
30
Drew lived in one half of a duplex on the south side of town. The paint was faded and the venetian blinds in the windows on her side were bent in places, but the yard was tidy and the flowers in the beds were fresh.
I rang the doorbell. After a moment, footsteps sounded from within and the door swung open. Drew blinked at me, momentary confusion written on her face.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said, her words slightly slurred.
Had I awoken her from a nap, or had she been drinking?
“Hi, Drew. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. Mind if I come in?” I stepped forward before she could give my request too much thought. She automatically moved back.
Three short steps brought me into a modestly furnished living room. The slightly stained brown carpet looked freshly vacuumed. The battered coffee table was recently polished. I settled onto the sofa and sank into the cushions. I noticed the slipcover felt crisp and new under my hands.
Drew stood near the couch, swaying slightly. I got a whiff of fruit mingled with the stronger odor of alcohol. Yep, she’d definitely been drinking. Any second, she might topple over like a mighty redwood at the hands of a saw blade.
I hurried across the room, removed a straight-backed chair from the corner, and then placed it behind her, easing the seat into the backs of her knees. She collapsed and stayed there. I reclaimed my spot on the sofa.
“You okay, Drew?” I asked, praying she didn’t slide off the chair and onto the floor. I wasn’t sure I could lift her, and I’d hate to leave her there.
Tears ran down Drew’s cheeks. “Nothing’s okay. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“What exactly are you talking about?”
Drew gave me an incredulous look as though I was the drunk one. “Wendy. She’s dead. And Preston.”
“Do you know something about that?” I scooted to the edge of the cushion. “If so, you need to tell the police. It might help them figure out who’s behind these deaths.”
Drew started to jab a finger in my direction, but then she let it fall back in her lap. “Don’t you think I want to? Kurt would kill me.”
I pressed my hands together. Is she telling me that Kurt was responsible? “Did Kurt murder his sister?” I whispered. My voice sounded deafening in the silent room.
More tears slid down her cheeks as she shook her head. “No. I got Wendy killed.”
My heart beat faster. “Are you saying that you did it?” I was still whispering, afraid Drew might clam up if I spoke too loud.
“No, but I blabbed to Marvin that all the money had disappeared at Invisible Prints. I know that’s why Wendy was killed.”
I nearly fell off the couch. Drew was the source of the anonymous tip? “The police don’t know for sure why Wendy was murdered,” I said. Though odds were good, the missing money was involved.
“The day after I told Marvin, Wendy got her throat slit. For all I know, he’s the one who did it.” She slumped down on her chair, sliding a bit.
I wondered if I should prop her back up, but I decided not to disrupt the conversation. “How did you know about the missing money, anyway?”
Drew hiccupped. “I’m thirsty.” She staggered to her feet, momentarily clutched the chair for balance, then lunged across the room in what, I could only assume, was the direction of the kitchen. I heard a refrigerator door open, bottles were clanking, and then the fridge door slammed shut. A clink here, bang there, and Drew reappeared, gripping a wine cooler in both hands as though it might slip out of her grip and run away.
I stared at the bottle, transfixed. She was drunk on wine coolers? I’d never been positive those things even contained alcohol.
Drew tried to sit back on the chair, missed, and fell to the floor, landing on her butt. “Good enough,” she mumbled. She licked where the wine cooler had sloshed out of the open bottle and spilled on her hand.
I thought about helping her up, but she looked pretty comfortable on the floor. “So how did you discover the money was missing?” I asked again.
She waved the bottle at me. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
I
put a hand to my chest. “Not at all. That’s why I need your help figuring everything out.” Time for a new tack. “How’d you meet Kurt?”
“At the bowling alley. My friend threw a singles party and we ended up on the same team. We can’t bowl at all, but we hit it off all right.”
“Were you working for Wendy then?”
Drew held up the bottle and studied the label. “Naw, I was in between jobs.”
I took the bottle from her hands and set it on the coffee table. “Did Kurt get you hired at Invisible Prints?”
She snorted. “Guess you’re not that smart after all.”
I worked to keep the exasperation out of my voice. “Why don’t you help me out here?”
“Kurt told me all about his sister. How she took everything he ever wanted his whole life. How she always kissed up to their mom and dad so they’d love her best. She even got their mom to leave all the money to her so poor Kurt was left flat broke.”
I’d heard all this before, but I nodded along to keep her talking. “What else did he tell you?”
“He knew she was a crook. Always had been. So he came up with this great idea to get back at her.”
“Tell me about it,” I said.
Drew hiccupped again. “Kurt saw an ad in the paper for a receptionist at Invisible Prints. He helped me dummy up a résumé, make some fake references. Then I lowballed my salary requirements. Kurt knew Wendy would want to hire cheap.” She let out a laugh and used the back of her hand to wipe the spit from her lip. “She even called one of my friends I’d listed as a reference, and my friend pretended she was some muckety-muck at a big company. And Wendy was dumb enough to believe her.”
I stiffened at this attack on my friend. “Wendy never struck me as dumb.”
Drew sniffled. “No, and now she’s dead.” She reached for the half-empty wine cooler on the coffee table and stared into its depths.
“What happened when you started working for Wendy?”
“Kurt was sure she was running a scam. Once I got hired there, he wanted me to spy on her. If I could find something that would prove she was a big phony, Kurt would expose her and ruin her reputation. I followed her to appointments and dug through company e-mails, but I never could find anything. Not until I went old-school.”
Green Living Can Be Deadly (A Blossom Valley Mystery) Page 21
