“Not recently,” Kenny said. “I mean, they had tension and sometimes a few mean words passed between them, but that was it. We’re a happy family.” He flashed that cheesy, valentine’s smile again.
“I see,” Heather replied, and the screen of her tablet lit up again. “And where were you on the night of your father’s murder?”
“Hey,” Kenny said and raised his palms. “I was just chilling. Do we really have to go over this again? I gave that cop guy my alibi.”
Heather glanced up at Kenny, then froze. Her heart skipped a beat. “What’s that on your hand?”
A long red welt ran across the tips of the college kid’s fingers. He turned his palm toward himself and frowned. “Oh shoot,” he said and busted out a laugh. “I forgot all about this. I burned my hand yesterday morning. Waffle iron.”
“You made waffles,” Heather said, in a monotone. She tapped the word ‘burn’ in capital letters on her screen.
“That’s right. They’re my favorite breakfast treat,” he said and dropped his hands into his lap. He balled them into fists, and the casual stance disappeared. He tensed up from head to toe. “Is that all?”
“Your alibi,” Heather said. “I know you discussed it with the detective before, but it’d be helpful for me to hear it firsthand. Just for the record, you know.” She’d get the dossier with the details later, but she wanted to hear Kenny say the words.
Kenny blew a raspberry. “Fine,” he said. “I was in my bedroom. And at some point, shoot, I don’t know when I went to hang out with my bro.” He rolled his eyes at the inconvenience of having to repeat the words.
Gosh, what a rough life the kid must have. Heather forced her internal cynic into the recesses of her mind.
“What time did you leave your brother’s room?” Heather asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kenny replied, and his tone dripped liquid sarcasm. “At about the same time my mother screamed blue murder in the basement.”
“I bet that frightened you,” Heather said.
“Heck yeah. We thought someone had attacked her. Or that – no, never mind.”
“Go ahead, you can tell me.” It was Heather’s turn to force a smile.
Kenny lowered his gaze to his fists. The clouds broke in the Hillside heavens, and a sliver of sunlight pierced through to the room and lay in a bar across the left side of the sofa, furthest from her suspect.
“Mom and dad fought sometimes. They never hurt each other, but for a second I thought all the tension had finally bubbled over,” Kenny said and licked his lips. He didn’t raise his head.
Why not?
He’d hardly expressed pain at his father’s death. Why would he hang his head now, unless he had something to hide?
“But that wasn’t the case,” Heather prompted.
“No,” Kenny replied, and finally glanced up. The clouds sailed in front of the sun, and the bar of light vanished, as if on cue. “I don’t think so.”
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Hardbody,” Heather said and clicked the button on the side of her tablet. The screen blanked out. “I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter 4
Heather squished back in her office chair in Donut Delights and hummed along with the Christmas music. Yet another rendition of Jingle Bells. Somehow, it didn’t get old.
Her laptop hummed on her desk, and a long list of orders stared back at her. They demanded attention, like Dave seeking a donut, but her gaze drifted to the tablet on the desk pad, instead.
A broken window pane. Three people in the house. A back door with a key on the victim. And Kenny, boy, he’d given her all kinds of strange vibes. The kind which made her suspicious.
And that didn’t bode well for Kenny Hardbody.
Two sharp knocks rapped against the wood of her office door. The knob turned, and her husband entered, the telltale brown dossier tucked underneath his arm. “Morning, gorgeous,” he said.
“Fancy seeing you here,” she replied. “I see you’ve brought me a Christmas present.”
“That’s a stretch.” Ryan closed the door, carefully, then handed over the dossier. “It’s interesting, whatever you want to call it.”
Heather took the folder and slapped it down on her laptop keyboard. Her fingers itched to flip it open. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, there have been a few, uh, how do I put this? Revelations,” Ryan replied. He grasped the top of the chair in front of her desk, dragged it back, then lowered himself into it. He hiked up his pants legs and wriggled his eyebrows.
“Curious,” Heather replied.
“Check this out,” Ryan said and gestured to the dossier. “You’re not the only private investigator in town. Guess who hired one?”
Heather flipped open the folder and scanned the first page. Her eyebrows shot up. “Jennifer Hardbody?”
“That’s right. Apparently, Jennifer didn’t trust her husband. She thought he might be having an affair, so she had him followed.”
“And?” Heather asked.
“And nothing,” Ryan replied. “The guy was actually working late nights. Check out the report.”
“Late nights. Why?” Heather asked, and scanned the typed page.
“Apparently, Victor’s business was in a downward spiral,” Ryan said. “And Jennifer discovered this during her little investigatory adventure.”
“A downward spiral. Boy, 2016 sure has been a good year,” Heather said, and the corner of her lip twitched upward. “So, she thought it was an affair, but it was really a financial issue?”
“Precisely,” Ryan replied. “And that’s when things got really interesting.”
Heather placed her elbows atop the front page and cupped her chin in her hands. “What do you mean?”
“Have you ever heard of the dark web?” Ryan asked.
“I can’t say that I have,” Heather replied.
“I’ll spare you the nasty details, but it’s basically a very secret and dangerous part of the internet where you can get anything you want. Any service, any product, from assassination to fraud services,” Ryan said.
“Oh, my.” Heather’s jaw dropped, but she snapped it closed again with her hands. “And Jennifer…”
“Not assassination, no. But she did try to trade in Bitcoin, which is the currency of the dark web.” Ryan shrugged his shoulders beneath his smart blue shirt. “Not that I know much about it. Everything I do know, I discovered today.”
“I get the feeling there’s more to this story than you’re telling me.” Heather glanced at her tablet.
“This dark web thing and Jennifer Hardbody’s illegal activities, have alerted the FBI to what’s happened here. They want to take over the case,” Ryan replied.
“What?!” Heather choked on her shock. “The FBI? In Hillside?”
“I know, it sounds unbelievable, but this kind of thing goes deeper than what we’re used to. It’s like a hacker-related thing. I don’t know. All I was told, by a very grumpy agent might I add, was to stay out of the way.”
“So, Hillside PD isn’t investigating at all?” Heather asked, and her heart sank. This case had already intrigued her. The connections, the possibilities had excited her sleuthin’ sense like never before.
Solving mysteries was one of her passions, after all.
“Not exactly. We’re investigating, but we have to stay out of their way. If the agent guy tells us to stay away from the crime scene, we have to cooperate. And if he asks us to lay off a suspect, the same goes for that.”
Heather resisted the grumbling anger which tunneled through her stomach. She hadn’t met resistance like that since before she’d gotten her private investigator license.
“Needless to say, the agent wasn’t too happy when he heard that you’re involved as a consultant,” Ryan said. “This being a serious matter to do with this dark web thingy.”
Heather sat up straight, then placed her fingers on the pages in the dossier. “But why did you bring me this?” She tapped once.
&
nbsp; “Because I know you’re the best mind we’ve got in Hillside when it comes to solving cases. And I’m not saying that because you’re my wife. I’m saying that because it’s true.” Ryan’s chest puffed out with pride. “I’m not going to let him bully you out of the way.”
“But if it’s what’s best for the case –”
“It’s not. You and I both know, you can solve this one just like any other,” Ryan said. “Even though I didn’t want you involved in the first place.”
Heather shut the dossier and touched the rough card on its front. She shut her eyes and nodded once. “Yeah, we’ll get to the bottom of this. Interesting that you mention Jennifer,” Heather said. “I haven’t spoken to her yet.”
“You’d better take your chance as soon as possible. I heard that agent’s going over there sometime today. You can bet it’s going to be difficult to follow his act.”
Heather’ eyelids snapped up again. “Good point.” Now, all she had to do was detach Amy from the donut counter and drag her out to a mansion. Her bestie often saw things Heather didn’t during their investigations.
Amy the acting assistant. More like Amy the information hoover.
Heather rose from her seat and determination jarred through her soul. “I’m on the case.”
Chapter 5
Amy stood in the center of the garden path and turned in a circle. Her gaze traveled over the sculptures and decorations which sat paces apart on the grass. “What is it with rich people and lawn ornaments?”
Heather stifled a laugh.
“I mean, I’m all for aesthetic value, but do these people really think they can out-pretty nature?” Amy halted her examination of the area and focused on Heather instead. “Because that’s just vain.”
“Vanity is a quality most people possess,” Heather said, then jerked her thumb toward the front door. “C’mon, Ames. We’ve got to get in and get out as quick as possible.”
Amy hurried up the path and her puffy jacket swished in time with the movements. “What’s the rush?” She asked. “You afraid the suspect’s going to make a break for it. Don’t worry, she’ll probably trip over that flamingo thing, there.”
“It’s not that,” Heather said. “Ryan told me that the FBI is getting involved.”
They strode up the front stairs and halted on the porch. Amy stomped her feet into her boots. “Are you serious? That’s so cool.”
“Not really,” Heather said and lowered her voice. “Apparently, the agent who came down to deal with the case isn’t impressed that I’m involved.”
“Uh oh.”
“Exactly. I think –”
The front door flew open, and a woman bustled onto the porch. “Who are you?” She asked, and trembled from the top of her permed brown hair to the tips of her toes, which she’d hidden in designer boots. “Speak!”
“Mrs. Hardbody?” Heather extended her hand. “I’m sorry if we startled you. I’m Heather Shepherd. This is my friend Amy.”
Jennifer Hardbody didn’t grasp her hand. “What do you want?”
“I’m here in conjunction with the Hillside Police Department. I hoped I could ask you a few questions about your husband,” she replied.
Jennifer grasped the door jambs on either side of her and held herself upright. “T-the police? You’re with them?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Heather replied. “You can call them if you have any doubts.”
The tall woman wavered on the spot. She swayed forward then froze and narrowed her eyes at Heather. “What do you want to know?”
“The meaning of life,” Amy muttered, under her breath.
Heather stepped on Amy’s toes with her heel. “Were you home on the night of your husband’s murder?”
Jennifer’s bottom lip trembled. “Of course, I was home. It’s almost Christmas. We were going to put up the tree.”
“Kind of late to put up the tree, don’t ya think?” Amy tugged at the sleeves of her puffy, pink coat to straighten them.
The sky threatened rain for the umpteenth time. This had been the wettest winter they’d had in years, but Heather wouldn’t complain. That moist scent drifted up her nose, and the cold, wet air pushed against the back of her neck. Coolness dribbled down her spine.
“We were busy,” Jennifer said. “It’s been a rough year.”
Rough enough to warrant the use of an illegal website, apparently.
“I see,” Heather said. “And what were you doing at the time of your husband’s murder.”
“Darling Victor was down in the basement. He wanted to get out the decorations because we hadn’t gotten the chance to decorate yet, and I was upstairs getting dressed after my bath,” Jennifer replied as if she’d prepared the speech by hand. “I heard a noise. A horrible – oh gosh, I can’t even describe it.”
Heather and Amy both pulled a face and glanced at each other.
“And then there was a thump. I ran downstairs to check on Victor. I had this horrible feeling something bad had happened and – and that was when I – when I –” Jennifer raised her right hand and covered her eyes to block out the memory.
Heather’s mouth formed a small, tight ‘o’ shape.
A red welt crossed the back of Mrs. Hardbody’s hand. An inflamed bar in a straight line.
She nudged Ames and nodded toward the mark.
“Ma’am, what happened to your hand?” Heather asked.
“My hand?” Jennifer’s brow wrinkled up.
“You’ve got a burn,” Amy said.
“Oh, this old thing? This is just – it’s silly. I was so excited about the decorating I decided to do my hair, and I ended up burning my hand in the process. Curling iron.” Hardbody’s nervous laughter traveled across the porch and slipped between them.
Heather didn’t buy a single ‘ha.’
“Is there anything else you’d care to tell me, Mrs. Hardbody? Do you know of anyone who’d want to hurt your husband?” Heather asked, and dropped her tone to calm the semi-hysterical widow.
Jennifer cleared her throat. “I – oh, I don’t know. My husband had his problems. He had some business enemies, I guess, but I didn’t know any of them. We didn’t talk much about that. We didn’t talk much about anything.” She exhaled, and pain flickered across her expression. “I wish we had.”
“You don’t have any idea –”
Heavy footsteps rattled the wooden stairs behind them. The stomp-stomp of a purposeful stride. Heather spun on the spot to face the newcomer, and butterflies bounced around in her belly.
“What’s this?” The man asked, and halted at the top of the stairs. He wore a neat pair of blue tailored pants, a white shirt and a jacket with the FBI logo printed across the front. “A tea party?”
“Not since Boston,” Amy said and smirked at her joke.
“Who are you?” The agent asked, and any hint of humor fell away.
The guy was as dry as cardboard toast.
“I’m Heather Shepherd. This is my investigative assistant, Amy Giv –”
“Shepherd,” he said, and ran his index finger down his neat, brown side-burn. “Shepherd, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“You want to step into the garden with me?” He asked.
“I don’t know who you are,” Heather replied. “You haven’t provided me with identification. I see no reason to go anywhere with you.”
“Agent Orchard,” he said, and flipped out said identification in the form of black wallet and the card within. “FBI. Step down the stairs, ma’am.”
Heather followed the agent down into the fabulously-decorated garden. She folded her arms across her chest and ignored the stares from the porch. “What’s up?”
“Back off,” Agent Orchard said, immediately. “You back off, or I’m going to have you put away for interfering in my case.”
“Have you lost –” Heather broke off and drew in measured breaths. She couldn’t afford to irritate this guy. What had Ryan said?
They had to cooperate.
&nbs
p; “I’ll do my best,” she said, through gritted teeth. “To stay out of your way.”
Orchard didn’t express satisfaction. He clicked his fingers and pointed to the gate, instead. “Run along.”
Chapter 6
Dave barked and sped down the hall, his doggy tail whipping in time to his frantic steps. Cupcake howled a meow and ran after him. Her fluffy white fur jostled, and she struggled to compensate for her full belly.
The not-so-small kitten swayed around the corner, bright blue eyes trained on the living room sofa ahead.
“Look at them go,” Amy said. She shifted her grip on the bowl of popcorn and giggled. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s the same thing every night, now,” Heather said. “Every time we watch a movie, at least. Lilly suggests we sit down and Dave and Cupcake race for the best position on the sofa.”
Dave hopped up and turned in a circle on top of a cushion. Cupcake languished on a folded blanket beside him. Her back and front legs stretched out as far as they could go. The height of luxury.
“They suit this family just fine,” Amy said and patted her bestie on the back. She glanced back up the corridor, then stepped into the living room, herself, and traipsed past the Christmas tree, topped with a sparkling, golden star. “How are you feeling?”
Lils had run upstairs to hop into her PJs before the movie.
“How do I feel?” Heather put down the tray of mugs and sighed. “Like I’ve had the rug ripped out from underneath me. I think I could solve this case, and quicker than any of the others, but this agent… he complicates things.”
“And he’s rude, too.” Amy placed the popcorn bowl on the coffee table, next to their mugs of hot chocolate. “I can’t believe he just dismissed us like that.”
“I can,” Heather said. “He’s got the power in the situation and his intent on using it.”
“Or abusing it.” Amy picked up a DVD cover from the top of the player and examined the merry faces on it.
They’d decided on a Christmas themed movie night.
“It’s not so much the agent I’m worried about,” Heather said and walked to her favorite spot. “There are ways to be secretive. You and I both know that. Remember the time before I got my investigator’s license.”
Christmas Donut Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 31 Page 2
