by J. R. Ripley
‘What people?’ VV had decided to stonewall.
‘Alan Klopton, Gary Busby and Stephanie Headley.’ I stared right back at her in defiance. ‘ASK Financial Services. Who are they? What do they want?’
‘You’d have to ask Daddy that question. They are probably here on town business.’
‘Town business or personal business?’
‘What is that supposed to mean, Ms Miller?’
‘What do they have to do with Nancy Alverson’s murder?’
‘I think we have indulged Mark enough.’ She banged her empty glass on the table and jumped to her feet. ‘You had better go.’
‘What were those people doing at the Sacred Church of Witchkraft?’
VV grabbed my purse and pushed it into my hands.
‘What does the church have to do with the town of Table Rock and your father, the mayor?’
‘Goodbye, Ms Miller.’ She gave me a nudge out the door.
As I headed indignantly to my bicycle, having been so ignominiously ejected from the casita, I noticed that the mayor was still in conference with Klopton and his associates.
But I had no clue what was going on.
SEVENTEEN
‘I’m telling you, Laura, Veronica Vargas is hiding something. I just don’t know what it is.’
I had filled her in on my visit to VV and the puzzling events of the past few days, from Nancy Alverson’s last morning in the café to my ill-advised visit with the mayor’s daughter.
I needed somebody to talk – and vent – to. Laura’s Lightly Used was on my way home from Casa Mirasol. I needed a friend, a real friend.
Luckily, Laura Duval was at her store. Laura was about my size, with inquisitive blue eyes and ash-blonde hair. Her nature was as friendly and unassuming as was her dress. I liked her a lot.
‘Maybe it’s the fact that she strangled Nancy Alverson,’ Laura suggested.
Today she wore a flowing blue print skirt and baby blue turtleneck and ankle boots. Her hair was styled in a fashionable A-line bob but I had a feeling she’d had the cut long before it had become popular.
‘Maybe,’ I conceded. Having VV locked up for murder would certainly get the woman out of my hair, but I couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation for what would have provoked her to strangle Nancy Alverson.
A customer wandered by and we held our tongues until she was gone. We were seated in a couple of bamboo-framed chairs in the far right corner of the thrift shop. The chairs were for sale, like everything else in sight. If we sat still long enough, we’d be for sale too.
‘Did you ask VV about the tea?’ Laura asked. I had told Laura what Detective Highsmith had told me about Nancy’s tea being drugged.
‘No. Shoot, I forgot.’
‘It would be illuminating to know how the sleeping medication got in the tea.’ Laura removed her earrings – delicate silver pentacles. She set them in her lap and rubbed her earlobes. ‘Assuming she didn’t put it there herself, which, I agree, seems unlikely.’
‘The tea was in a Karma Koffee takeout cup. I’m guessing that Nancy had a guest, probably the same guest that killed her. They must have drugged the tea at some point when she wasn’t looking.’
‘Still,’ Laura jiggled the earrings in her hand, ‘it had to be a friend, someone she trusted.’
‘Exactly. The question is who? Anybody could have gone up to her apartment from the street without passing anyone else on the way up,’ I said. ‘The only time there’s much traffic on the stairs is before and after classes at the yoga studio on the second floor.’
Laura put her earrings back in her lobes. ‘These things always make me itch. They are supposed to be silver but I think they’re plated. It’s the nickel I’m allergic to.’
‘They are nice. Don’t tell me you’re a witch too? You aren’t a member of the Sacred Church of Witchkraft, are you, Laura?’
‘No.’ Laura laughed. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘The earrings. They’re pentacles.’ I explained how several of the robed members wore similar, although not identical, objects around their necks.
Laura removed her left earring and held it between her fingers. ‘I don’t know about witches. The pentacle represents the four elements of nature. This point,’ she indicated the lower left point, ‘represents the earth. The upper left point is air. Fire is the lower right point and water is the upper right.’
‘And the fifth point?’
‘The divine spirit.’ Laura looked embarrassed. ‘Silly, I guess.’ She replaced the earring and shook her hair. ‘Was this Nancy person into witches?’
‘There was something about witches in her manuscript but it mostly seemed to concern church business more than witchcraft itself.’ I pressed my palms into my forehead. ‘I wish I had made a copy of that book so I could read the rest of it.’
‘It still seems quite odd that she sent it to you. You were almost a complete stranger.’
‘Brad said the same thing. I think that’s exactly the reason why she mailed the flash drive to me. I was the last person on earth anybody would expect her to send it to.’
‘That makes sense.’
‘What I can’t understand is why was Nancy killed?’
‘From everything you’ve been telling me, it sounds like somebody didn’t like what she was writing.’
‘Yes, but, I mean, why now?’
Laura could only shrug. ‘Do the police have any suspects besides Veronica?’
‘If they do, they aren’t sharing them with me. I’m hoping Brad will be able to come up with something on those ASK Financial people. There was a lot of business stuff in that manuscript. Nancy talked about fraud and all sorts of financial shenanigans. I think she was trying to build a case for something. I just may never know what without knowing how her book was going to end.’ I yawned. The day was taking its toll on me. ‘I’ll talk to Brad. Hopefully, he’s learned something.’
Laura grinned. ‘What’s going on with you and Brad?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, crossing my legs. ‘We’re sharing information.’
‘Sharing any saliva yet?’ Laura made kissing movements with her lips.
‘Stop that,’ I insisted. ‘You’re disgusting. Besides, it’s not what you think.’
‘He’s cute,’ teased Laura.
‘He looks like my ex-husband,’ I said sharply.
‘Interesting,’ Laura said, tapping her index finger against her cheek. ‘It sounds like Brad is exactly your type.’
‘Do you think we could get back to the subject of Nancy Alverson for a minute?’ I’d had enough talk about my love life, or lack thereof. ‘If I want to be on the receiving end of a hard time, I’ll talk dating with Donna and Mom.’
‘Sorry.’ Laura’s giggle said otherwise.
I gave her a look that brought the giggle to a halt. ‘I learned from the police that Jakob Waltz, Nancy’s boyfriend, has a criminal record. He lives here in Table Rock.’
‘Jakob Waltz?’ Laura rubbed her forehead. ‘I think I know him. An artist, right?’
‘That’s right.’
Laura nodded. ‘He’s bought painting materials and a couple of secondhand easels from me. You say he has a criminal record?’
I explained about Jakob’s past. ‘And he was definitely in the area around the time Nancy was murdered.’
‘So it could be that Nancy’s murder has nothing to do with what she was working on. It might have been a lover’s quarrel.’
‘I must admit, after Nancy’s murder he did seem more concerned than distraught.’
Laura nodded. ‘Think about it. Strangulation. That does sound like an act of passion, doesn’t it?’
‘You’re right. I may have been looking at this all wrong. I’m going to have to see what more I can find out about Nancy’s relationship with Jakob, and pin down what he did and where he went after leaving the café that night.’
‘Surely the police would have asked him those same questions?’
‘Jakob s
ays he was home. I’m not sure if the police have verified that or not. I have no idea how seriously they may be treating him as a suspect.’ I worried my lip. ‘Detective Highsmith did warn me to keep my distance from Jakob.’
Laura’s brow went up. ‘I’d listen to that advice if I were you, Maggie. Jakob may or may not be a murderer, but he does have a criminal record. I still can’t get over Highsmith asking you of all people to go and try to console Veronica.’
‘You and me both. It’s funny, though. For a few minutes there, I thought we might really bond. After that, I thought she might stomp on me like a bug.’
‘Veronica Vargas seems quite inscrutable. You said she argued with Nancy?’
‘So?’
‘Maybe she got angry enough at her to want to stomp on her like a bug, too.’
‘I don’t know why I bother talking to you,’ I joked. ‘You give me more questions than answers.’
‘That’s what friends are for – somebody to bounce ideas off.’
‘Somebody to sell evil espresso makers to?’
‘What?’
‘That espresso maker you sold me.’
‘The La Floriano?’ Laura said with surprise.
‘That’s the one.’
‘What about it?’
‘Like I said, it’s evil. More precisely, it’s cursed.’
Laura cast a dubious eye at me. ‘Cursed, Maggie? How many Bloody Marys did you have this afternoon?’
‘Not enough, and that’s beside the point. If you don’t believe me that the machine is cursed, just ask Aubrey. She’s the one who told me.’
‘She must have been pulling your leg.’
‘Nope, she believes it. One hundred percent. And, while I’d never admit it to her, I’m starting to believe it myself. I mean, my life has not been exactly running like a well-oiled machine since you sold me that evil thing.’
‘In the first place, the La Floriano is a wonderful antique espresso maker. I gave you that machine at barely above cost, as I remember.’
‘Sure, probably because you wanted to get the cursed thing out of your store.’
‘Very funny.’
‘Did you know that Rob and Trish Gregory previously owned that espresso maker?’
‘They were the ones who sold it to me. Of course, they did seem very eager to sell it. They sold it to me cheap, too.’
I could tell Laura was razzing me now.
She wiggled her fingers in the air. ‘Probably because of the malevolent spirit that inhabits it. That’s it, Maggie! Your espresso machine has been possessed!’ She leaned toward me, elbows on her knees. ‘Would you like me to arrange an exorcism for you?’
‘OK, maybe it’s not possessed.’ I pointed a finger at her. ‘You, on the other hand, might be.’
We both laughed.
‘Seriously, Maggie. If there’s anything at all wrong with the espresso machine or you are simply unhappy with it, I’d be happy to buy it back.’
‘No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.’ I sulked. There was no good way out. I was stuck with the cursed machine. I could throw it in the Grand Canyon but I was pretty sure there were laws against such things.
‘OK, if that’s what you want. Remember, the offer of the exorcism still stands.’
One of Laura’s assistants, Robin Pahe, a twentysomething Navajo woman with liquid brown eyes, interrupted. ‘Excuse me, Laura. A customer is asking if you can do better on the price of that Frigidaire chest freezer.’
Laura rose with an accompanying sigh. ‘Let me go see which one you mean. Tell them I’ll be right there.’
Robin nodded and left.
Turning to me, Laura said, ‘Sorry, Maggie. Enough girl talk. Duty calls.’
‘No problem. I have to go feed the cat and get ready for my yoga class.’ I stood and gathered my coat and purse.
‘You’re taking a yoga class? That sounds fun. Maybe I’ll join you.’
‘Great. It’s the beginners’ class at Yoga By Rob.’
‘OK, now I know I’m hearing things.’ Laura tugged at her ears. ‘First you tell me that your espresso machine is cursed, next you tell you are taking a yoga class, and then you tell me that Rob Gregory is the teacher?’ Her voice rose in pitch.
She knew how much Rob and Trish irritated me.
‘His yoga studio and his store are directly below Nancy Alverson’s apartment.’
Understanding came to Laura’s face. ‘Oh, you’re going to snoop. That I get. Maybe I’ll pass for now.’
Laura rearranged the pillows on our chairs. ‘Let me know if you learn anything interesting.’
I promised I would.
Back at the apartment, I fed Carole Two and gave her a rubdown with some weird glove my sister had given me when the cat came to live with me. The red glove was peppered with soft silicone tips that were supposed to massage the scalp and remove loose hair.
Carole Two liked it.
I loved it. Yes, there were times that I massaged my head, shoulders and lower back with the glove. In fact, I was thinking of buying a second one so I could use them in tandem.
Thinking about Donna and Andy reminded me of the promise that I had made to my nephew, Connor. I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation any more now than I had been at the time he had asked me. It wouldn’t be fair to put it off much longer.
But one more day couldn’t hurt, and I didn’t have time that night.
I nuked my dinner, a delicious frozen chicken pot pie that contained more grams of fat than protein – trust me, always an essential statistic if you wanted flavor over nutrition, which I, as a rule, did.
I ate quickly and held myself to one glass of wine. After all, I had a bicycle to ride in the dark and a yoga class to attend. Most of all, I wanted to keep my wits about me and see if I could learn anything new about Nancy Alverson’s murder.
My hope was to get a chance to take a look in the apartment. With luck, that might just happen.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t had time to go shopping for yoga clothes. I threw open the closet and looked at my meager selection. Rob would not be happy if I showed up in my Maggie’s Beignet Café outfit.
I riffled through the hangers and opened and closed drawers. Nothing seemed right. I finally settled on a simple short-sleeved black T-shirt with an embroidered white poodle with a pink bow between her ears in the center, and my best pair of sweatpants – dark blue with only one tiny hole in the butt from when I’d accidently sat on a fork I had left behind on the sofa.
I studied my image in the bathroom mirror. Not terrible. And, if I tugged down the T-shirt, the hole in the butt didn’t show at all.
Satisfied, I grabbed a headband for good measure. Having watched Mom do her full-body contortions, I knew I was in for some mind and body-bending exercises and wanted to be prepared.
I even put on my best pair of cotton socks, blue-and-white striped with red chili peppers. They had been a Valentine’s Day present from my dead ex-husband. The socks were in perfect condition because I had never worn them.
Now was the time.
I threw a fleece jacket on, told Carole Two to hold down the fort and pedaled to Karma Koffee.
EIGHTEEN
It was five minutes till seven. Rob said his class started promptly at seven. I unlocked the front door of Maggie’s Beignet Café. There was no point leaving the bike exposed on the street with my shop just across the way. I rolled the Schwinn inside the café and parked it in the dining room. I grabbed my little purse from the basket and clutched it in one hand while I locked up behind me.
I ran across the street with one eye on my watch. Two minutes to seven. I was going to make it. Everything was going to be OK.
I shot a quick peep through the window of Karma Koffee, curious to see how busy the place might be at that time of night. Call it professional curiosity.
I glimpsed a familiar shape inside and slammed to a stop, sideswiping a pedestrian. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ I muttered.
I pressed my face to the pi
cture window as my victim moved on with an easy look back in my direction. ‘Herman?’ I said out loud.
Herman the Swede stood at the counter. Lee was on the other side, handing Herman a white paper sack.
I pretended to read the newspaper in the rack attached to the sidewalk at the curb. Herman exited Karma Koffee and turned in the opposite direction.
I was about to follow him when he glanced over his shoulder and noticed me.
‘Maggie Miller.’ He stopped and turned. He was dressed as I had last seen him. My guess was you didn’t need much variation in your wardrobe when you were treasure hunting in the mountains and the desert. The only addition to his wardrobe tonight was a bulky military-style camo jacket.
‘Hi, Herman. This is a surprise.’
He crumpled the Karma Koffee bag under his left arm and quickly closed the distance between us. ‘I was looking for you, Maggie Miller.’
‘You were looking for me? Why?’
Herman glanced furtively around. His eyes were barely visible under his hat. ‘Your beignet store was closed.’
‘We aren’t open at night. In fact, I’m on my way to a class.’ I groaned inwardly. I was definitely going to be late now.
Herman touched the sleeve of my coat near the wrist. ‘But we need to talk.’ His head swiveled from side to side. His right hand, I couldn’t help noticing, was gripping the handle of that deadly-looking knife he wore on his belt. ‘Seriously.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I took a step backward. ‘I really don’t have time.’
A patrol car cruised slowly toward us. Herman spotted it at the same time as I did.
‘Later,’ he said. He turned on his heel, moved the bag to his right hand and marched with a noticeable hitch in his step down the street.
I pulled open the door and raced inside Karma Koffee. Lee was alone at the counter. ‘What did Herman want?’
‘Who?’
‘That guy who was just in here.’
Lee grinned. ‘Yeah, Table Rock gets its share of characters, doesn’t it, Maggie?’ He lazily wiped the counter with a white towel. ‘As a matter of fact, he was asking about you.’
