Cold Feet (Five Star Mystery Series)

by Karen Pullen

  “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard,” Tricia said. She pursed her lips and shook her head. Kate stood and reached out to the camera, the world tilted, and the screen went black.

  I handed the camera back to Ingrid. “Wow. What a scene to capture on tape. Their expressions were priceless.”

  “Tricia asked what I meant and I told her. That Justine was just hormones and a few knife-flicks away from being John, the boy who used to try on my makeup. Kate had to explain the surgery. It was pretty funny.” She grinned a rare, lovely smile.

  “Did they tell Mike?”

  “They didn’t believe us. Or didn’t want to believe us. They were horrified.”

  “But now Kate’s angry with you.”

  “She thinks Justine was murdered because I told. But I’m glad I did, because secrets are sick.”

  I sipped my ginger ale as I processed what Ingrid had revealed. Both Scoop and Tricia would have been repelled by Justine’s sex change. They could have bowed out of the wedding, or called a halt to it, but they’d shown up in ministerial robes and a big brown hat and smiles. From what I’d seen of Scoop, he was one of life’s rougher players, a bit of a grifter with a temper. I imagined him sweeping into Justine’s room and delicately sprinkling a speck of strychnine into her tea. It didn’t seem his style. In her book, Tricia was full of harsh intolerant rhetoric, though in person she seemed kind of sweet, ignoring her husband’s bad humor, planning her cruises to sunny climes. She didn’t seem as controlling as she’d have to be to murder someone. “Does Kate think one of her parents poisoned Justine?” I asked.

  “No, she says they refused to believe me. But she thinks someone tried to stop Mike from marrying Justine, because I blabbed. Not necessarily her parents. Someone else was listening, someone outside in the hallway at the time, I heard the floorboards creak. I don’t know who.”

  “Mike?”

  “Oh no. Mike had gone home.”

  I thought about who else was in the Castle B&B that night. Lottie and Evan Ember, with their little girl Alice. Webster and Delia Scott. Gregor McMahon. Wyatt. Had one of them overhead Ingrid blurting out the news about Justine? None seemed to have the kind of vested interest in Justine’s surprising history that Mike would have, or Tricia and Scoop. I sighed. This was good information, another piece of the puzzle, but I couldn’t see where it fit.

  “How well do you know Gregor McMahon?” I asked.

  “I knew his wife Emma very well. I introduced them, in fact, a couple of years ago. But he was one of Mike’s friends, and they . . .” She shook her head and sighed.

  “They what?”

  “When Kate and I became a couple, some people sort of dropped us.”

  The waitress brought Ingrid a refill. “From Melanie at the bar, with the ponytail,” she said. Ingrid looked over and waved half-heartedly.

  “How does Melanie know you and I aren’t together?” I asked.

  “She’s an old friend. She knows you’re not my type.” She sipped from her glass. “Anyway, I checked my horoscope today.

  Mars is retrograde.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Confused emotions and relationship conflicts. But screw that. I’m a Libra and I need balance. Something’s going on with Kate and I want to know what.”

  I beckoned the tuxedoed waitress over and ordered my own glass of wine. This was turning out to be a more complicated conversation than I’d anticipated. “What about following her one evening, like tonight?”

  “Jump out of the bushes, yell ‘gotcha’?” She shuddered. “Libras hate confrontation. But if I had facts and proof, I could walk away with some self-esteem. Despite a broken heart.”

  I didn’t agree with her. Facts and proof of Hogan’s infidelity had rinsed away any doubt, but all the self-esteem in the world wouldn’t have softened the desolation I felt. “It could be something else, Ingrid.” I wanted it to be anything else, some common cause of a downtick in a relationship.

  “Like what?”

  “Problems with her work. Distractions. Something she can’t talk about yet.”

  In the next room, the band took a break and a karaoke competition started up, featuring a half-dozen unique renditions of “I Will Survive.” Women began to drift into the bar to escape, and I watched them, half-curious. They looked like anyone anywhere. Short-tall, fat-thin, young-old, diverse in looks, skin color, clothing, and hair. The feminine rainbow. Then I caught sight of a familiar face.

  “You might be able to save some money on a PI,” I said.

  “There’s Kate right now.”

  “Where?” Ingrid rose half out of her seat.

  “Stand up and you can see her.” Kate had slid into a booth across the room, in the corner. Because of the angle and the distance, I couldn’t see who was with her. The miniskirted waitress set two draft beers on her table.

  “Oh God, oh God.” Ingrid covered her face with her hands. “I knew it.”

  “Hey, chill. It could be something completely innocent.” But I knew how she felt, that drained sinking suspicion that you’re being cheated on and you’re about to find out who with.

  “You look,” Ingrid said. “Just go over and say hello. Please?”

  So I did. I picked up my glass of wine and wound my way around tables until I reached Kate’s booth. Fearing the worst, I expected to see some sweet young thing. Well, he was neither. Mike, Kate’s brother, sat across from her in the booth, his heavy forearms like bowling pins resting on the tabletop. They were so intent on their conversation they didn’t notice me. A silly grin took over my face as I realized that Kate wasn’t unfaithful. I felt like cheering. Instead, I said hello.

  “Hey, Stella,” said Mike. “I was just telling Kate what happened this morning. Some excitement, no? You saved my life.”

  I objected. “Your mother was the brave one.”

  “Mom’s the real deal, all right. Getting her fifteen minutes of fame.”

  “Ingrid sent me over.”

  Kate flung her arms up in the air as if she’d made a touchdown. “Ingrid’s here? Where?”

  I pointed to our booth where Ingrid was peeping around the corner. When she noticed Kate looking at her, she ducked back.

  “What’s the matter with her?” Kate asked.

  “She thinks you’re cheating on her,” I said. It’s always best to get these things out in the open.

  “Hardly,” Mike said. He stood and hollered across the room. “Ingrid, get your skinny butt over here!” Heads turned at the sound of a man’s voice, and Mike laughed. “It’s pretty obvious I’m not a gay woman, right? I’m here to learn. Kate tells me Justine liked this place.”

  “She could relax,” Kate said. “No one would judge her.” She looked at Mike, seeming to mean that comment for him.

  Ingrid threaded her way across the room. She looked from Mike to Kate. “You’re meeting with your brother?”

  “Yeah, we had something important to talk about. Sit beside me, sweetie.” Kate moved over to make room. Mike made space for me beside him. The waitress brought a big platter of nachos and I dove right in. I was still feeling hungry after my stay with Dana; she hadn’t fed me very well. The salsa-avocado dip was to die for and I ate a third of it immediately.

  Ingrid leaned into Kate’s face. “What’s going on? You’ve been making me crazy!”

  “I know and I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

  Ingrid shrugged. “Um, maybe. I was scared.” She looked like she might cry.

  “Hey.” Kate put her arm around Ingrid’s shoulders. “I had something to work out.”

  “Why couldn’t you talk to me about it?”

  “I didn’t want to get your hopes up. See, I changed my mind.

  About us having a baby.”

  “Really? Really?” Ingrid’s face lit up like a neon star and she wrapped her arms around Kate. “And that was why you were so pissy all week?”

  “Oh honey, I’m sorry. I wanted to make sure I could find a donor. It was co
mplicated because of—you know—the weekend.”

  “And did you find a donor?”

  Kate looked from Ingrid to Mike.

  “She did, and it will be an honor,” Mike said with a big smile. Ingrid burst into tears and Mike looked at Kate anxiously.

  “Don’t worry,” Kate said. “She’s very happy.”

  “That’s so—so nice,” Ingrid sobbed. She half-stood and leaned over the table to kiss Mike’s cheek. “I can’t—I can’t—”

  He sat stolidly. “What, I have to buy you dinner first?”

  We all laughed. The miniskirted waitress brought their food, a burger and fries for Mike and a chef’s salad for Kate. Ingrid ordered a veggie burger but I declined. This little family grouping didn’t need me hanging around asking awkward questions. But while I had them all in one place and in a good mood, I had one last question for Mike and Kate. “Justine’s gender change would have mattered to your parents. A lot. What would they have done to stop the wedding?”

  Mike smacked the table with a fist as meaty as a coconut. “You think they killed Justine? They didn’t want her in the family so they killed her?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Kate waved her hands back and forth like a metronome. “Mother was in the guest parlor with me until an usher took her outside and seated her. And Scoop was outside with the guests. There was no opportunity.”

  “I’m sorry.” Mike rubbed his eyes and face. “This business has me spinning. Of course my mother couldn’t have done it. But who would want to?”

  “What about Gia Mabe?” Kate asked.

  “Yeah,” said Mike, “she’s got my vote.”

  “Starting around twelve-thirty, she was taking pictures,” I said. “I’ve seen them—they’re time-stamped. By the way, Mike, the pictures give you an alibi too.You’re in every one.” I thought back to Gia’s office, her camera, her metallic breath as she leaned close to me and whispered his name. “Scoop is in most of them as well.”

  I tried to visualize the half-hour before Ingrid heard Justine’s cries. Who knocked on her door? What was the conversation before the one-half-teaspoon of powder was sprinkled into her tea? Did the killer watch her drink, wait for the first agonizing convulsion? Then leave the room, join the wedding guests and wait for the inevitable? No one emerged from the murky fog of my imagination. Anyone with a shadow of a motive had an alibi; none of the others had motives.

  I felt like a fourth wheel sitting with this little family unit, so I ate one last chip and slid out of the booth. Two mommies and one daddy, three more parents than I had. Lucky baby.

  “Thanks, Stella,” Ingrid said. “If I can do anything for you ...”

  “Don’t forget to invite me to the shower,” I said.

  I pulled into my driveway. It was nearly midnight. On the front porch, sprawled on my rickety wicker lounge, Hogan slept, an irritating yet pleasing sight. Irritating, because he would probably disturb my fragile emotional equilibrium. Pleasing, because I could get him to do a security check before I sent him home.

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You stopped by to say good-night to Merle.”

  He opened his eyes and sat up. “I was worried about you. And I have something to tell you.”

  “Did what’s-her-name find a new mate online?”

  “Funny. Can I have five minutes and a drink of water?” He stood and stretched, and his tee-shirt rose to show off a couple inches of his trim middle, the middle that was no longer mine to wrap around.

  “Sure. Come along while I walk the dog.”

  Merle writhed with pleasure to see us both come through the door. Hogan flicked the hall light on, then flinched when he saw my face. He gently tipped my chin up to examine Dana’s handiwork. “What the hell? It’s worse than I thought.”

  I gave him a glass of water. “I’ll be okay. External injury, heals quickly, should be all better in a week.” I attached Merle’s leash and grabbed a plastic bag. “Come on.”

  Overhead, heavy clouds had gathered, covering up the milky moon. The air was wet and chilly and soon it would rain hard.

  Hogan started out at his usual fast walking pace but I’d had my run for the day. I asked him to slow down so I could keep up. “What’s the big news that couldn’t wait until the morning?” I asked.

  “I found out why Jax Covas was invited to Mike and Justine’s wedding.”

  Immediately I forgot my fatigue, my pains, my aching heart. “Why?”

  “He’s using God’s Precious Church to launder money.”

  “What?” Scoop and his “church” had been so clearly pretentious, but more along the lines of a low-budget scam.

  We stopped to let Merle investigate a message left on a mailbox. “The church is a front,” Hogan said. “Jax pays rent to the church, ten-twenty times the going rate. Then the church pays him to develop some property for a building—a two-acre lot down near Bonlee. I checked it out—the lot’s a skinny strip and surely isn’t being developed. Still scrub pine.”

  “How did you ever find this out?”

  “Oh, I have my sources. Friends in good places.” Though it was dark, I knew Hogan was smirking with pleasure at his cleverness. “In the middle there’s a real estate management company called Carefree. Here are the five addresses owned by the church, according to the Registry of Deeds, all managed by Carefree.” He pulled a list out of his pocket and when we reached a street light I scanned it, recognizing only 1015 East Waters, where Dana had taken me. “I had help from the Financial Crimes Division. They were impressed by Scoop’s creative accounting. They’re going to prepare a case against him, if the IRS doesn’t get to him first.” Hogan pointed to an address at the bottom of the list. “Where you bought the kilo, Stella.”

  I imagined Scoop Scott in an orange jumpsuit, behind bars. Would Tricia visit him faithfully, endure a pat-down of her knit pantsuit? Or would she have another revelation, dump Scoop, and relabel her cruises for a different kind of afterlife? Born Again—Getaways for the Newly Divorced. “Did you learn anything about Jax?” I asked.

  “Aside from his arrest and jail record? The guy doesn’t exist. No credit cards, no phone records, nothing.”

  “He might have been out of the country.”

  “I checked with ICE too. They didn’t have anyone by that name.”

  I felt a wet drop on my head, and another, and pulled my jacket over my head as the skies opened with a soaking downpour. We jogged back to my house and left our shoes on the porch. I filled the teakettle and put it on the stove. “I have something to show you, too.” I handed him the Italian charm bracelet. “It was among Justine’s things in her room at the Castle B&B. The innkeeper mailed it to Mike Olmert a few days ago. But he said it wasn’t hers.”

  Hogan studied the charms one by one. “A woman, a teacher, a Dolphins fan with a dachshund. Born April 2.”

  “Can you trace it?”

  “I’ll try. I bet there were a couple hundred baby girls born that day who grew up to be teachers. But a Dolphins’ fan? That will narrow it down.”

  “Very funny.” The kettle began its insistent whistle and I filled each mug with hot chocolate mix and a marshmallow. “Impossible request, I know. Except for a genius.”

  Hogan smiled, running his hands through his hair. He knew I wasn’t exaggerating. He blew on his cocoa to cool it.

  “Oh, Mike Olmert wanted me to give you this.” I handed him a copy of Enchanted Food.

  He leafed through it. “Thanks. Gorgeous pictures. I love food porn.”

  Wow, what an opening. I was sorely tempted but I’d been practicing maturity so I let it go. “Hey, is Justine’s chili recipe in there? Lottie Ember said it was the best she’d ever tasted.”

  He checked the index, then found the page. “Here is it. Look at these ingredients—bourbon and cashew butter and chocolate!”

  “What’s cashew butter?”

  “It’s like peanut butter. For thickening.”

  Like the peanut butter Liesle had “sensed” in the ro
om where Justine died.

  Then I laughed at myself, at my desperate grasping at any straw, even one suggested by an amateur psychic. The chili recipe looked easy. I could make some for my neighbor Saffron, to repay her kindness in helping me clean up my house after the break-in.

  “How’s the investigation going?” Hogan asked.

  “The more I learn the less I know.” I added some milk to my mug and took a sip.

  “Sounds like a Zen bumper sticker.”

  “This link between Scoop and Jax is intriguing but I can’t see how it relates to Justine’s murder.”

  “Maybe she balked at the last minute, decided she didn’t want to marry into a criminal family.”

  “So someone killed her?” I asked. “I can’t see it. She probably could’ve cared less where Scoop’s money came from. I know I wouldn’t. There’s more important things in a marriage than your stepfather-in-law’s business.” I looked at him with my most innocent expression. “How is Candy, anyway?”

  He looked embarrassed and annoyed simultaneously. It was kind of cute. “Fine,” he said. “She’s fine.”

  I could have asked more questions. Then why are you here at midnight? Is she as slutty as she looks? Do you two still email each other your deepest dirty desires? But I reined in my impulses and said nothing. It felt grown-up to keep my mouth shut except for, “More cocoa before you go?”

  He took the hint and left. I performed my own perimeter check, slid the deadbolts home, and stored the SIG under my pillow. Whispering sweet nothings into the ears of my canine alarm system, I invited him onto the bed. Tuning out the frightened squeaks about Jax and Dana and Mo, I fell into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER 20

  * * *

  Monday Morning

  I was looking forward to spending some time with Fern. I’d barely given her a hug Saturday night before Fredricks rushed me off to the hospital, and I needed to reassure her I was okay, find out why Bebe was with her, make sure she hadn’t heard from Jax, cook something. Richard had given me medical leave for another day, so I didn’t have to think about buying dope until tomorrow night. I’d bring Merle so he could run in Fern’s fields and chase critters. I’d plant myself in a rocker on her porch and watch the dog cavort.