If the Shoe Kills (A Tourist Trap Mystery Book 3)

by Cahoon, Lynn

  “Greg, you need to come out front.” My voice caught. “Ted Hendricks is out here.”

  Greg’s voice hardened. “Is he bothering you? I swear, that guy is ballsy.”

  I swallowed. “He’s not bothering me. I think he’s dead.”

  CHAPTER 4

  I sat in the police station’s break room with the cooling basket of food. Greg was out front somewhere, handling the crime scene. I couldn’t stop seeing the look on Ted’s face, slack and almost peaceful, if not for the blood caking around his flowing blond locks. I shivered and closed my eyes, trying to block the memory.

  I had cleaned all the tables, stacked the magazines, shelved the used paperbacks in alphabetical order, and was considering reshelving by genre when Greg came into the break room.

  “How you doing, sweetheart?” He took my hand and sat me on the orange plastic couch, pulling me into a hug. “You ready to talk about what you saw?”

  My breath hitched. “Can you even question me? Isn’t that a conflict of interest or something?” Truth was, I didn’t want to talk, not to Greg or anyone, really.

  Greg shook his head. “Clearly it’s a suicide. The mayor said he’d fought with Ted this afternoon. Marvin told him that he was calling the administrator of the program and getting him kicked off the job.”

  “Mayor Baylor said that?” I didn’t think the guy cared if Ted was a bully, even if the participants going through the program were vulnerable.

  “Well, there was also the matter of the kickback Ted was trying to force out of the mayor. Money, it’s always about money.” Greg stood up and went to the table, opening the basket. He pulled out one of the biscuits. “I’m starving. I can’t leave until Doc Ames gets here for the body. I’ve got Toby out there holding the fort for a few minutes.”

  “Ted was blackmailing the mayor?” I frowned. Something didn’t make sense. “Then how do you know it’s suicide? Maybe Mayor Baylor killed him?”

  Greg laughed and almost choked on the bite of biscuit he’d just taken. After he’d stopped coughing, he shook his head. “Honey, you always see trouble. Ted put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. I’m sure Doc Ames will find gunshot residue on his hands as well and confirm the obvious.” He pulled out a chicken leg. “You want some?”

  My stomach turned. There was no way I could eat, not now. I shook my head. “I don’t think I’ll be eating anything for a few days.”

  Greg put the chicken back into the box. “Sorry, I’m being insensitive. I guess after what I’ve seen on the job, you tend to compartmentalize.”

  I held my hand up to stop him from stepping back to the couch. “Go ahead, eat. You’ll probably be working late, you need the energy.”

  Greg sank into a chair at the table and unpacked the basket. “This was nice of you.”

  “Even if Carrie couldn’t keep a secret?” I stood and walked over to the table, grabbing one of the bottles of root beer.

  “Don’t blame her. She thought you were already here, and she’d forgotten to pack something.” Greg chuckled as he made a volcano pocket out of his mashed potatoes to hold the gravy.

  I thought about my walk to the police station. I’d been happy. Now all I could see was the red Mustang. Not that I cared that Ted was dead. The guy had been a jerk, but no one should die that way. Especially not because of a fight. “So, what do you want to know?” I wanted to leave, to go home, cuddle with Emma on the couch, and watch Harry Potter again. Maybe all eight movies.

  “Everything you remember from when you left Diamond Lille’s to when you called me.” Greg started tearing apart the chicken.

  “I don’t know, I walked. The basket was heavy. I saw your truck in the same spot where it was this afternoon when I walked home. Then I saw Ted’s car and wondered if I could walk around the building to avoid running into him or the mayor.” I sipped the syrupy drink. “Especially since he’d called and yelled at me during my run.”

  “The mayor?” Greg paused, holding the chicken halfway to his mouth.

  I shook my head. “Nope. Ted. He wasn’t happy that Mindy’s assignment got changed last minute when Marie cancelled the class.”

  “Why would he care?” Greg’s voice was thoughtful.

  “Because he had to be in control of everything.” I ripped a biscuit in half and took a bite, but the buttery delight didn’t faze my bad mood. “He’s a jerk.” I stopped and set down the biscuit. “I mean, he was a jerk.”

  Toby stood at the doorway. “Sorry to bother you, Greg, but the reporter and news crew are here from Bakerstown. Do you want to talk to them, or will the mayor?”

  “I’m coming out.” Greg wiped his face with a napkin and leaned in to give me a quick kiss. “I’ll have Toby run you home.”

  “I can walk.” Suddenly, though, I felt dog-tired. All I wanted was to get home.

  “Tough guy.” He smiled. “Toby, run your other boss home please.”

  Toby ushered me to the back of the building, where his personal car, a ’69 Chevy Camaro sat. “I don’t have to ride in the cruiser?” I glared at him.

  “Figured you’ve had a bad day. Don’t want to give the news hounds a false lead, seeing you carted off.” Toby grinned and unlocked the car. I sank into the leather seat. “Sorry you had to see that.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t understand why he’d do it. Ted was in love with himself. He wouldn’t just end his life.”

  “You never know what problems people are carrying around. Maybe Ted’s past caught up with him and he couldn’t go on?” Toby eased the car into the alley and went down to Gull Street, turning out onto Main next to Diamond Lille’s and away from the circus at City Hall.

  “Secrets,” I whispered as I watched the road ahead, thinking about what concerns Ted could have held that would have driven him to such an extreme end.

  Emma smelled the fried chicken on my clothes, even though I hadn’t eaten anything, and nuzzled my hand. “Sorry, girl, no leftovers.” I went over to the stove and turned on the heat under the kettle. A nice cup of tea, a hot bath, then right to bed. Tomorrow was another day. But I wondered when I’d stop thinking about the red Mustang.

  Aunt Jackie called after I’d been lying in bed, not sleeping, for an hour. I glanced at the clock. Eight thirty. No wonder my body didn’t want to fall asleep.

  “Jill, are you all right?” Jackie sounded worried. I heard a party going on behind her words, big band music floating through the speaker.

  “I’m fine. A little shaken up, but fine.” I pulled on my robe and went downstairs with my cup to warm my tea.

  “I’m calling to tell you I’ll open the shop tomorrow. My ride is bringing me home in a few minutes.” Jackie gushed through the phone. “I was so worried about you.”

  “Wait, how did you hear?” I got a new tea bag out of the cupboard.

  “The bar where the party is being held had the news channel on. Apparently it’s a big deal when someone with political ties takes his own life.”

  “Wait, what?” I couldn’t have heard her right. “Who was Ted?”

  “The Hendricks family is some shirttail relation to a former president. I guess when the old man was in power, they kind of ruled the Washington scene.” I heard Jackie mumble something. “Look, I’ve got to go. Don’t worry about opening, come into the shop or not, Toby and I will cover.”

  And with that, my aunt clicked the phone off. I set my cup next to my laptop and fired it up. I might as well find out what the scoop was on Ted.

  Two hours later, my notebook and my brain were filled with Ted facts. He’d been born into a powerful Washington family. His dad had been an ambassador to more countries than I thought existed. And from the pictures, his mother had been the perfect political wife, beautiful on the arm and her spare time spent on charity work. She mainly focused on child welfare rights, but her name had been associated with some commission on repairing the welfare system twenty years ago.

  They had three boys. One had died in a skiing accident as the younges
t competitor accepted for the Olympic ski team. One was a lawyer back in DC. And Ted, obviously the slacker of the bunch. The online news outlets said he worked for a local social service agency, following his mother’s dream of social equality. From what I’d gleaned over the last few weeks, Ted didn’t so much support the ideal of working oneself out of poverty, he just liked pushing people around.

  Of course, the sanitized version of his life didn’t include his temper. Or probably, the multiple abuse charges that Greg had found in the background check. No, now that the guy was dead, he was an angel.

  I was ready to turn off the computer and head back upstairs when I saw the last paragraph of an article. “Ted Hendricks suffered a tremendous loss when his wife, the love of his life and his high school sweetheart, vanished in an apparent kidnapping scheme. Even after the million-dollar ransom had been wired to an offshore account, Katherine Janell Corbet Hendricks was never released. Authorities assumed she’d been killed by the kidnappers.” A picture of a young girl in a wedding dress standing alone at the altar ready to take her vows was at the bottom of the page.

  The frightened girl in the picture, especially with the expression of fear cloaking her eyes, appeared to be a very young Marie Jones.

  Checking the time on my cell, I realized it was already ten thirty. If Greg was done with the investigation, he hadn’t called. And if he had been done, he would have called to check in on me. I knew that much. I stared at the picture on the screen. Greg would tell me I was seeing problems where there weren’t any. Tell me that Ted had committed suicide.

  I glanced at the flyer that still sat on my table. One I’d picked up from the pile Marie had given out at the business meeting, announcing a new Thursday night class. I closed down the computer and put the flyer in my purse. I dialed Amy’s number.

  “Hey, I just heard. You want me to come over with a bottle of rum and a six-pack of Coke?” Amy didn’t even let me say hello. “Or maybe wine? I’ve got a couple of bottles from the trip Justin and I took last weekend to Napa.”

  “Neither. I’m fine.” I leaned back into my chair. “I do need a favor, though.”

  “Anything.”

  “I want you to take a stained-glass class with me.”

  The line was so quiet, I thought I must have lost her. I pulled the phone away from my ear and glanced at the display; no, it said we were still connected. “Amy?”

  “I’m here. Just not what I thought you’d ask.” She was quiet again. “Is everything okay? I mean, a stained-glass class? Doesn’t seem like your kind of thing.”

  “I can be crafty,” I protested.

  And my friend laughed. Not a polite chuckle, but a big, uncontrollable laugh where your eyes tear up and tears roll down your face. If we’d been together, I would have smacked her, just for good measure.

  “Ha, ha.” I interrupted. “If you’re done making fun of me, will you do it? I’d ask Sadie, but with the holidays coming up, she’s swamped with baking.”

  Amy sniffed, and I could imagine her wiping the moisture from her eyes. “You couldn’t pay me to stay away.”

  “Tomorrow night at seven at The Glass Slipper. I’ll call Marie and sign us up first thing in the morning.” I paused. “Thanks, Amy.”

  “I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’d follow you almost anywhere to help you find it, you know. We’re buds.”

  “And you’re totally taking pictures of this, aren’t you?”

  “Damn right.” She clicked off the phone.

  Tomorrow I would be a Crafty Cathy and take a stained-glass workshop to make my own Christmas ornaments. And maybe in the process I could prove who Marie Jones really was, one way or the other.

  If anyone found out I was taking one of Marie’s classes, I’d be laughed out of the room. Everyone knew that I was too klutzy to be crafty. This secret spy thing was hell on my reputation.

  CHAPTER 5

  The tables were filled with chatting women. Everyone seem to know each other. Except Amy and me. We were at our own table near the back. A woman at the table in front of us turned and stuck out her hand. “I’m Leslie Talman. I don’t believe we’ve met before. Did you just join the class?”

  I took her hand and the woman squeezed, causing me to squeak. When she let go, I managed to whimper, “I’m Jill Gardner. I own Coffee, Books, and More across the street.” I pointed to the right. “This is my friend, Amy Newman.”

  Amy smiled and waved, avoiding Leslie’s grip. “We’re so excited to take Marie’s class. Have you taken a glass class before?”

  “Tons. I swear, Marie should give me a frequent customer loyalty card. I’ve even brought her new students from the bank where I work. I don’t think there’s one teller who hasn’t taken the introduction class.” Leslie pointed to a woman standing near the coffeepot. “That’s Anne, she’s a vault teller. The manager’s girlfriend is even taking this class.”

  “Marie must love you.” I smiled as Leslie blushed just a bit.

  “I can’t help it if I’m addicted to the craft. My husband’s home watching a football game. Or a rerun.” Leslie nodded to the coffee. “You want some coffee before we start?”

  “I’m good.” I watched as the heavyset woman walked away, her bright yellow T-shirt stretching to cover her midriff. A hand touched my arm, and I turned to see Mindy standing next to me. “How’s your night going? You and Marie getting along?”

  Mindy grinned and nodded. “She’s great. We sat together and she showed me the ornament we’re making tonight. Then she had me make one all on my own. I can’t believe how patient she was with me. And the angel looks beautiful. Marie says I can keep the projects I make here.”

  “Sounds like you got the best assignment out of the group,” Amy teased. “My intern thinks I’m going to yell at her for asking to go to the bathroom.”

  “Who’s with her tonight?” I’d forgotten that Amy should be working with her charge rather than helping me stalk Marie.

  “Esmeralda. She’s teaching her dispatch.” Amy pulled a strand of blond hair out and checked for split ends. “We’re splitting the time between us.”

  “That sounds fun, too,” Mindy said, not convincing us of her honesty.

  I was just about to ask about her son when Marie walked into the room and the women quieted like she was the president coming into a White House briefing. I glanced at Amy, who shrugged.

  “Good evening, ladies. So glad you took time out of your busy schedules to work on your personal development. Having a hobby isn’t being selfish; it’s being true to your own development as a child of God.” Marie smiled and motioned to Mindy, who scurried up to meet her. “This is my new assistant, who’ll be helping me teach tonight.”

  Mindy shyly waved to the group. “I’m Mindy, I’m glad to be here.”

  “Hi, Mindy,” the group chorused back.

  “This feels like an AA meeting,” Amy whispered.

  I shot my friend a look. “And how would you know that?”

  Amy grinned. “Can I plead television?”

  “Goofball.” I turned back to the front of the room, where Marie was glaring at us. “Sorry,” I mouthed. It felt less like a class and more like Sunday services had when I was a kid. My mom used to give me that same look when I’d start to fidget.

  Twenty minutes later and we were deep into our project, a heralding angel. I was pleasantly surprised at the fact my effort was beginning to actually look like an angel. At least until I saw Amy’s. Her lines were clean, and if mine referenced a female in a Picasso manner, she had the Mona Lisa angel. I narrowed my eyes at her.

  “My mom wanted her little girl to be an artist, not a city planner. I had classes in all forms of art before I fell in love with architecture.” Amy held her ornament up.

  “Amy, I didn’t know you were so talented.” Marie came up behind me and leaned close to examine my friend’s foil work. She patted Amy on the arm, then studied my efforts. “I’m sure you’ll catch on, Jill. Keep trying.”

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nbsp; “I appreciate your support.” I tried not to let the envy seep out of my voice. I had to remind myself that we weren’t there to learn the craft. I focused on Marie. “Hey, I never asked, how are you feeling? After the near miss in the street? You didn’t get hit, did you?”

  Marie froze. She glanced around the room. “Time for a break, everyone.” Lowering her voice, she answered, “I’m fine. I didn’t get hurt, just scared.”

  “You should have seen Ted after the incident, he was so upset. He kept asking if I thought you were all right. He seemed genuinely concerned.”

  “Ha.” Marie shook her head. “He was probably more concerned that I’d dented his car. He treated that Mustang like it was his baby.”

  Amy caught my eye. She took the hint and asked, “So, you knew Ted?”

  Marie glanced around the room. Most of the students were outside, enjoying the night air and the white Christmas lights twinkling in the trees. “Mindy mentioned that he worried about that car all the time. He had his own parking lot for it. One car in ten spaces. Can you believe that?”

  Sounded like Ted, I thought. A few people drifted back into the room. It was now or never, so I jumped to the obvious question. “Marie, were you married to him?”

  I swear the blood in her face drained. “Why would you ask that?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just put her arm around one of her students and left our table.

  “That was a definite reaction.” Amy stood closer. “She knew him.”

  “So, why would she lie?” I whispered.

  Amy shrugged. “She didn’t lie, she just didn’t answer the question.”

  I focused on finishing the angel during the next hour of the class, wondering how to get Marie to admit that she was Ted’s missing wife. Maybe I was seeing something that wasn’t there. Thinking about the last time Greg caught me investigating on my own, I decided to hold my opinions until I could take him more than just a feeling and an old newspaper photo. Amy and I stopped to see Aunt Jackie at the shop after class, along with a few other class members.