Dressed to Kill

by Lynn Cahoon

  “Well, if you need something, all you have to do is ask.” I opened up the dessert case and pulled out two pieces of vanilla bean cheesecake. “Like breakfast. You want one of these? I’m going to cut open a fresh cheesecake for the display later this morning.”

  “Don’t have to twist my arm. Let me finish the opening list, and I’ll sit down with you until the commuters hit.” Typically, on a Thursday, the morning shift was slow. I’d added Sasha to the schedule full-time at the first of the year. Next month, I’d let her work several shifts alone, but for now, she always had a backup—and no one’s hours were affected. When she did start working by herself, I’d give her some of Jackie’s shifts or mine so I didn’t short Toby. We worked on the opening, and then I opened my laptop to my bookseller’s website and started making a list for next week’s order.

  Sasha joined me, bringing over two cups of coffee and the cheesecake. “So you’re okay with the after-school club? Jackie thinks it’s a good idea.”

  “I think it’s a great idea. Ever since we installed free Wi-Fi, the teens have been hanging here after school anyway. Why not get them excited about books?” I pulled up the book she’d been reading that morning. “This one’s not out until July. But the book is part of a series. You want to start with book one?”

  We made plans, ordered twenty copies to start with, and framed out a timeline. Jackie could take over the promotional part tomorrow night when she worked with Sasha. Fridays were my day off with Toby opening, then Sasha joining him midmorning and staying to help out Jackie. All in all, I had to admit, Coffee, Books, and More was running like a well-oiled machine.

  Which made me worry. Nothing came easy, but not seeing a shoe dropping at the present, I pushed aside my unease.

  I’d settled into reading a contemporary romance, putting aside the murder mystery I’d been devouring. It seemed wrong to be reading about a murder when we had found a dead body the night before. Of course, Doc Ames, the county coroner in Bakerstown, could have ruled Kent’s death due to natural causes by now, but you never knew.

  Especially in South Cove.

  The bell over the door rang and Darla Taylor burst in. She’d taken to running the mile from the winery to town three to four times a week. I’d even seen her out on the beach some days when I ran with Emma. She’d been diligent, and the effects were starting to show. She glanced at Sasha, then found me over on the couch and beelined directly for me. Sasha brought her a large glass of water.

  “Thanks, doll.” Darla sucked down half of the water, pausing to breathe. She pointed to the menu board. “Get me a skinny latte, too.”

  As Sasha disappeared to make the coffee, Darla finished the last of the water and wiped her mouth with her hand. She sank into the easy chair next to the couch. “I swear, getting in shape is going to kill me.”

  I used a bookmark to keep my place and set the book on the coffee table. This wouldn’t be a quick conversation. “You look amazing.”

  A small smile creeped onto her lips. “Let’s just say I look better. I’ve got a long way to go.”

  “A journey starts with a few first steps,” I quoted a Facebook post I’d seen the other day. “Or something like that.”

  Darla waved her hand. “Enough about me, what have you found out about Kent? Does Greg know who killed him yet?”

  “Darla, the body was only found last night. I’m sure Greg doesn’t even know if it was murder.” I’d known Darla would be looking for insider information. She wrote for the South Cove Examiner part-time and had a nose for gossip, if not news.

  “That’s not what I’ve heard.” She pulled out a small notebook she’d stuffed in a fanny pack she’d clipped around her waist, along with a five-dollar bill that she handed to Sasha as she dropped off Darla’s coffee. “Thanks, keep the change.”

  Sasha disappeared behind the counter and I noticed her book disappeared, too. I’d gone and hired another book addict. Smiling, I turned back to Darla and her notepad. “You might as well just put that away. Apparently you know more than I do about the case. Why do you think it was murder?”

  “I was cleaning up the stage when Doc Ames and Greg were talking about Kent.” She flushed at my look. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, if that’s what you’re thinking. I can’t help it if they were talking loud enough for me to hear.”

  I couldn’t help myself; I leaned forward. “So what did they say?”

  Darla glanced around, checking the empty shop for listening ears, then whispered, “They found cocaine in a Baggie in his pocket.”

  “No.” I thought about the always cheery banker. “Kent Paine did drugs?”

  Darla shrugged. “At least they thought it was cocaine. Greg said he would send it to the lab today.”

  “Couldn’t that have killed him? You hear about people dying from drug overdoses all the time. Why do you think it was murder?” Darla wasn’t telling me the whole story, I could tell.

  She pressed her lips together, then blurted, “What, you think a healthy man just dies?”

  I thought about Darla’s statements and shook my head. “I think you are writing fiction instead of your normal, factual news articles. You don’t even know if it was drugs they found.”

  “I guess you’re right. Ever since we had that problem at The Castle, I’ve been seeing ducks.” Darla leaned back again and sipped her coffee.

  “Ducks?” Sometimes I had a hard time following her logic.

  Darla waved her hand in the air. “You know, if it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s a duck? I’m saying it’s weird for a guy to just die. So, it looks like a duck.”

  “I think you’re reading too much into this. Kent died. Until Greg says different, I’m going to go with unfortunate incident rather than murder.” I sipped the last of my now cold coffee and stood to get a refill.

  “Just wait, you’ll find out I’m right.” Darla quacked a few times for emphasis, then finished off her coffee. When I walked to the counter, she followed, stuffing her notebook back into her fanny pack and zipping the leather case closed. “I’ll be back when you have something to tell me.”

  As Sasha and I watched Darla leave the shop, I wondered if her radar for gossip was spot-on. Greg hadn’t called yet. Maybe it was time to see if my boyfriend wanted to buy me lunch or if he was too busy trying to solve the latest murder.

  The oversized clock on the wall showed eleven. Sasha had the shop under control, Toby would be here in thirty minutes—I could take a break to call Greg. I excused myself to the back office and hit speed dial on my cell. While I waited for him to answer, I stood at the back door and watched birds wander through the small parking lot behind the shops. Mayor Baylor had proposed making all the back lots into a public parking lot, but so far, the shop owners had resisted, each side of the street making strong arguments why it should be on the other side of Main. Besides, with the beach parking and the available street parking, we were okay for all but the largest of our festivals, when people parked on the side of the entry road and walked into town. Like I did each morning.

  The phone rang into voice mail and I heard Greg’s deep voice booming out a request to leave a message. Thoughts of Lille’s fish and chips ran through my mind, so after leaving a message about lunch and a quick, “thinking about you,” I dialed Amy’s work line.

  This time a real human picked up. Or what passed for a human. “South Cove City Hall,” Mayor Baylor barked into the phone. “What do you want?”

  “Good morning, Mayor.” I pulled out the sweet, charm soaked voice I used, well, never. “I take it Amy is out on a break?”

  “The girl is probably surfing, since she called in sick. I don’t know why I keep her on.” I could hear paper being shuffled loudly on the desk. “You’ll have to call back tomorrow, I can’t find anything to write a message on.”

  I was about to tell him to look in Amy’s left-hand drawer in her desk, but he hadn’t waited for an answer. The line was dead.

  Now I was oh-for-two on lunch b
uddies. I heard Toby’s voice in the front and made a strategic decision. I grabbed my purse and the book I’d been reading. Heading out to the front, I watched as Toby pulled on an apron and organized his counter. Sasha had commented on the stupidity of each of us reorganizing the cups and utensils at the beginning of each shift, but I noticed the mornings she worked with me, she set up the counter with her own method, too. I guess we all knew our way was the right way.

  “Hey, Toby, you hear from Greg this morning?” I leaned over the counter, checking the status of the dessert case, trying to appear nonchalant.

  “Don’t even start. You know Greg gets testy when I tell you anything about open investigations. I’m not getting another lecture about leaking sensitive police information.” Toby sipped his coffee. “Man, this hits the spot. I’m used to my evening shifts being pretty quiet. Instead, I spent the shift interviewing all those pretend actors for your play.”

  “They’re called amateurs for a reason, Toby. Besides, I thought you were going to audition for a part?”

  “No time. Between working here and for your boyfriend, and trying to see Elisa at least once a week, I’m booked. I barely get six hours of sleep most nights.” He grinned. “No wonder I ran through chicks like bottled water. They need a lot of attention.”

  “But she’s worth it, right?” I liked the fact Toby was finally in a real relationship. We’d even double-dated a couple of times, taking in a show in the city or a late dinner when Tim took over the on-call for a night. Greg had been hinting that we should sneak away alone for a weekend trip while the tourist season was a little slow, but finding Kent’s body would put a wrench in that plan, especially if Darla was correct and it was murder.

  Dating a cop was hard. No way around it.

  Toby cocked his head, watching my thoughts flash across my face. “There’s not trouble between you and the boss, is there?”

  “We were talking about you and Elisa, not my love life.”

  He shrugged. “So? I hear things.”

  Now he had me hooked. “Like what things?”

  He glanced around the still empty shop, looking like he was praying for a busload of tourists to flood into the store. “Okay, he told me you were ticked off about his report to the Business-to-Business meeting. That’s all, I swear.”

  “Men are such gossips.” I smiled. “I was mad. But we talked about the issue and he promised never, ever to talk to Sherry again.”

  “Boss—” he started, then stopped.

  “What?” I laughed. “I know, it’s a stupid rule, but I needed some reassurance, especially since Sherry opened a business down the street. We’ll be running into her day and night now. I guess I need to get over myself, but she can be so, well, pushy. At least when it comes to Greg.”

  Toby ran his hand over his face. “Look, you didn’t hear it from me, right?”

  I stared at the man across from me. “I didn’t hear what?”

  “I mean, it could be nothing,” Toby started.

  Sasha came up next to him behind the counter. “You better spit it out, boy. Jill looks like she’s going to climb over the counter and shake it out of you.”

  Toby cleared his throat. “As I came into town a few minutes ago, I saw Greg going into Vintage Duds.”

  CHAPTER 5

  My cell rang as I bit into the first of the onion rings I’d ordered as an appetizer to my fish and chips lunch. Add in the vanilla milk shake I’d sucked down half of already, and my total calorie count would feed ten women on a low calorie diet for a day. I glanced at the display. Greg.

  “What?” I answered, not hiding my frustration.

  Greg laughed. “I guess I’m too late. The gossip mill has already told you I paid a visit to Sherry today.”

  “Why would you say that?” I had to give him props, he wasn’t hiding the fact.

  He paused. “Where are you? Lille’s?”

  “It is lunchtime.” Okay, so I was still being a brat. He probably had a perfectly good reason to have visited his ex-wife and turned off his cell phone.

  “Order me the meat loaf plate, I’ll be right there.” He clicked off the phone.

  I thought about ignoring his request, but then I thought about his baby blue eyes and how his chin stubble tickled my ear when he whispered totally inappropriate but funny lines while we were watching movies. I waved Carrie down.

  By the time he arrived, his food was sitting on the other side of the booth, waiting. He quickly kissed me, then sat and drank down half his iced tea. He snagged an onion ring off my plate. “I’m starving. I’ve been going since I sent you home with Amy last night. How is Justin doing? The man was freaking when I interviewed him.”

  “I don’t know. I tried to call Amy earlier, but she took the day off. Maybe Justin needed some TLC from the hangover he probably has this morning. He was pretty hammered last night.” I leaned back and watched him devour half of the meat loaf. “So you were at Sherry’s to talk about Kent?”

  He nodded, but didn’t say anything, digging his fork into the pile of mashed potatoes. He held up a bite. “These are so good.”

  I watched him eat and nibbled at my French fries. I tried another tactic. “So Darla’s saying Kent was murdered.”

  “Ah, shit.” Greg dropped his fork and I leaned back. “I wish she’d stop spreading rumors so we’d have a least a day to investigate.”

  “Was it murder?” Now I was intrigued, my fried-to-perfection fish forgotten. “Who would want to kill Kent?”

  He finished his iced tea and set the glass near the end of the table, waving to catch Carrie’s attention. Then he picked his fork back up and dug into the mashed potatoes again. Before he took the bite, he shrugged. “Not a clue.”

  “You’re mean.” I dipped a fry into ketchup and bit into the crunchy slice of salty heaven.

  He scraped the last bite of gravy off his plate. Greg was a member of the clean plate club. At least when he was hungry and liked the food in front of him. Once when I made a creamy shrimp over potato gnocchi, he picked out all the shrimp and left the gnocchi. But at least he tried it. The man could be a picky eater. When Carrie picked up his plate and refilled his glass, she paused.

  “You want some apple pie? Fresh this morning from Sadie’s bakery.” She glanced at me. “Looks like you still have a ways to go before you need dessert.”

  “Thanks. Bring over a piece with a scoop of ice cream on the top.” Greg grabbed one of my fish fillets and consumed it in two bites.

  “So why did you visit Vintage Duds?” I grabbed the last piece of fish before it disappeared like the other one.

  “I’m a cop. I investigate. Until Doc Ames tells me Kent’s time on this world was up naturally, I question people.” Greg settled for a few more of my fries. “You’re not going to let this go, are you? Sherry was at the winery just before our practice started. The tapes show her sitting in her car for ten minutes, then storming into the tasting room. Twenty minutes later, she gets back in her car.”

  “Do you think Sherry might have killed him?” Part of me was cheering Greg’s calm demeanor, especially since his ex-wife might be a murderer. Another part knew it was probably awkward if not impossible for him to stay totally impartial.

  “We don’t know if anyone killed him. Seriously, Jill, you need to stay out of this. I’m the investigator in the relationship. If I need help, I’ll work with Doug over in Bakerstown PD.” He shrugged as Carrie set the pie in front of him. “I can tell you this, all I know is she was there and now, I know her side of the story. She claims she got an anonymous text saying Kent was meeting another woman for drinks. When she got there, all she found was Darla and Matt getting ready for the rehearsal.”

  “Now, was that so hard to say? Sometimes you take all the fun out of my day.” I broke off a bit of the flaky crust before he could move the plate out of my reach.

  “Yeah, like when I try to keep you safe?” He cut a large bite and popped the treat into his mouth.

  I leaned back, ignoring
the cinnamon smell that was making my mouth water. Usually, one bite satisfied my craving. And I’d had freaking cheesecake for breakfast. Now, all it had done was whet my appetite. Kind of like Greg’s denials about Kent’s death status.

  Greg cleared off the last bite of the pie and pointed his full fork at me. “I’m serious, Jill. You deal with your business, I’ll deal with mine.”

  I watched the fork as he waved it in the air in front of me, thinking of grabbing the utensil and ignoring his clear directions.

  A smile crossed Greg’s lips, right before he devoured the last bit of pie. “I know you can hear me.” He pushed the plate aside. “Look, sorry I broke our agreement about Sherry, but my visit was part of my job. That’s the last I’m going to say about it.”

  “So should Sherry get a lawyer?” I smiled at my own joke. Before he could answer, his phone buzzed with a text.

  He thumbed to the message, then put the phone in his pocket. When he stood, putting cash on the table for the meal, I wasn’t surprised. This was life dating a cop; plans got changed with a phone call. He kissed the top of my head. “I have a lot on my mind. I’ll call you later.”

  I watched him stride out of the diner, wondering when I’d see him again. Dinner, if Kent had been called up naturally by Saint Peter’s list. Next month, if someone had moved him up the list intentionally. No matter what Greg said, when murder happened on his watch, my life was always involved, even when I tried to stay out of it.

  After running with Emma to counteract at least a few of the lovely fat-filled calories I’d consumed that day, it was time to throw a load of laundry into the washer and make a list of the things I wanted to do on my first day off of the week. Usually, I read most of the day, ran with Emma, and did the few house chores needing done. Living alone with my dog as company, the house didn’t get extremely dirty. So I didn’t worry about extreme cleaning. The situation worked for both of us.

  Don’t get me wrong, I loved my little house. Especially now that the downstairs had been painted and filled with keepsakes from my life instead of the prior owner’s, Miss Emily. The woman loved her crosswords. I was still finding piles of ripped pages from the local paper with half-completed puzzles upstairs as I tried to clean out the other two bedrooms. I glanced upstairs, weighing the thought of digging into cleaning one of the bedrooms versus reading the few final chapters in the contemporary romance. Love won out.