by Lynn Cahoon
“I swear I’ll never try to solve a problem that isn’t mine again.” I held my hand up as I used the other to open the gate. Now to read that book and figure out a way to keep my pledge.
A noise came from the side yard and I froze.
“Nice to hear your promise, but honestly, honey, do you really think you can make a tiger have spots?” Greg stood at the corner of the house, a wet tennis ball in his hand and a panting Emma staring at him with eyes filled with doggy love.
Smiling, I walked toward him and reached up on tiptoe to give him a kiss. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” I glanced toward the driveway. “Where’s your truck?”
“Back at City Hall. I needed a break, so I walked out here to play with my favorite girl.” He waved the ball at Emma. Throwing it into the backyard, he called, “Get it!”
The dog took off like a rocket.
We ambled up to the back porch and slid into the swing, his hand taking mine. “I missed you last night.”
He leaned back and put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “This Kent thing has been a disaster.”
“Really?” I turned toward him. “What’s happening? Was he murdered?”
I saw the grin on Greg’s face before I realized what I’d done.
“And I’m trying to solve someone else’s problem again.” I sank back into the swing, watching my dog throw her ball up in the air, then catch it herself. “Why do I do this to myself?”
“You’re hardwired to think this way. I swear, you’d have been a good cop if you’d gone that way instead of law school.” He ruffled my hair. “I love you just the way you are. As long as you’re not messing with my investigations. Go figure out who took one of Austin’s bikes last weekend. Then he’ll stop calling the office three times a day to see if I’ve apprehended the suspect.”
“He should take the rider’s photo ID before letting just anyone rent one of his bikes. We’ve talked about his lax business practices before.” I sighed. “The guy wants to think everyone is as honest as he is.”
“Well, to his defense, the bike disappeared from his locked storage sometime between Sunday night and Wednesday morning when he opened the shop. He didn’t just rent it out to the wrong guy.”
“My bad. With Austin, you never know. Maybe I should stop by with some of the city’s safety pamphlets and cookies. I could invite him to the next Business-to-Business meeting. At least then we wouldn’t need to talk about Josh’s trash obsession.” I sat up. “You want some iced tea?”
Greg nodded, apparently lost in thought again. “Sure. I’d forgotten about Josh’s pictures. I need to …” He stopped as he noticed me watching. “And I’m setting you off again. Maybe you need a boyfriend who has a safe job.”
“Like banking?” I stood up and opened the back door, pausing to add, “Look what that got Sherry. A dead boyfriend.”
Greg didn’t laugh.
“Wait, am I missing something here?” I leaned against the doorway. “You’ve been MIA for a few days dealing with Kent’s death, Darla’s running all over town telling people he was murdered, and Toby tells me you’ve been talking to Sherry. You don’t think …”
I didn’t get the rest of the sentence out before he kissed me. “I do think that you need to stay out of this investigation. I don’t know if Kent died naturally or if it was murder, but I do know you need to stop poking around in things. I worry about you when you go off and sleuth.”
I led him into the kitchen and handed him the self-help book Leslie and Anne had raved about. “Not to worry, my cure is forthcoming.”
He paged through the book as I poured two glasses of tea over ice. “Not your usual reading choice. This is about how to be more confident. What’s that got to do with staying out of my investigations?”
I pondered his question, sipping down almost half of the tea. I’d been thirsty from the walk. Then I shrugged. “I couldn’t find a book about learning to mind your own business in thirty days or less. I guess this will have to do.”
His laugh echoed through the kitchen. He set the book down on the table and leaned against the cabinet watching me. “You are something else, you know it?”
“A good something else?”
He nodded and pulled me into a long kiss. “A great something else.”
“You’ll be glad to know that Amy and I are doing a girls’ night tonight, no talking about investigations or murders allowed. Just girly drinks and talk about men, and beauty products.”
“Sounds like fun. I’m glad you’re taking a break. Just don’t be driving,” Greg teased.
I held a hand up in a pledge. “No way will I give Toby the satisfaction of hauling me in.”
Over our second glass of tea, I brought up the mystery dinner. “Darla was wondering when we could schedule another dress rehearsal. We need to send out a new date for the performance. The women’s shelter was kind of hoping for the boost this quarter. I guess their state funding has been a little unreliable this year.”
Greg shook his head. “I don’t know when this investigation will be complete. I’m waiting on a call from Doc Ames with the autopsy results, but you know it takes a couple of weeks for the tox reports from the lab. Even if Doc thinks it’s natural, he won’t issue a final determination until he sees those.”
“Darla says it’s drugs.” I gave him the rumor since he would hear about it sooner or later.
He sighed. “I told her to keep her mouth shut. I guess that was a little hopeful.”
“Maybe she only told me?” I tried to put a positive spin on the situation.
“More likely she’s already submitted her article for Saturday’s edition. That woman burns me sometimes.” Greg finished his second glass of tea and opened the screen door. He took the wet, slobbery ball from Emma and threw it. Emma bounded off the porch. He grabbed a kitchen towel from the counter and wiped his hands.
“She is a reporter. What did you expect?” I stood and got the pitcher from the refrigerator. “You want a refill?”
Greg’s phone buzzed and he put up a hand. “Hold on.” He read the text and then returned his phone to his pocket. He put his glass into the sink. “Sorry, I’ve got to run to Bakerstown again.”
“The autopsy’s done?” I filled my own glass and returned the pitcher to the fridge.
He nodded. “And from what Doc Ames said, you can tell Darla that we need to postpone the dinner for a while.”
I put my hand on his arm. “Kent was murdered?”
Greg leaned down and kissed me good-bye. “Official wording is suspicious.”
CHAPTER 8
I spent the rest of Friday before meeting Amy doing laundry and reading. I pulled out a notebook and made a list of all the rules from Be a Tiger. I had to admit, the woman had lived an interesting life, although some of the things she did, I could never pull off. When I worked at the law firm, I worked many long hours mostly because the other associates knew I wouldn’t say no when they asked for help. What they hadn’t known was that I liked working long hours because it kept me away from home and my ex-husband. Not one of my proudest memories, but true. This woman would have kicked the jerk out, told the other associates no, and probably still made partner two years sooner than anyone else had before.
The author was a pistol. Or this self-help book was completely fictional. Which was what I was starting to believe. However, there were some good takeaways, which I wrote down in my notebook.
Before I had to get ready, the book was finished and I read over my notes, then turned to a blank page.
I wrote Kent Paine at the top and started writing down everything I knew about what I assumed was his murder since Greg hadn’t returned for our usual Friday pizza and a movie date.
I felt a bit guilty doing that after my conversation with Greg this morning, but it wasn’t like I was going to really investigate. I just wanted to keep my thoughts clear in case Greg asked me something. Like about when I saw Kent kissing that redhead, since I still hadn’t ment
ioned that to him.
The winery was buzzing by the time I arrived, walking from the house. Being on foot limited my choice of footwear, so I decided to wear my black cowboy boots, tucked in skinny jeans, and a sparkly silver shirt I’d bought online. With my hair loose, I felt pretty.
Or I did until I walked into the tasting room and saw Sherry and Pat already seated with Amy. My friend looked like me, wearing jeans and a pretty shirt. The other women looked like they were attending a play in the city, or as my mom would say, all dressed up with nowhere to go. Amy waved me over.
“Hey, glad to see you. Sadie couldn’t make it. Esmeralda never answered, and Darla’s swamped, so it’s just the four of us.” She held out a bottle of my favorite beer. “I ordered you one, but you’re already behind so drink up.”
I sat on a chair, nodding to the still silent Pat and Sherry. “Thanks for coming. I think it’s time we got to know each other.”
Sherry sniffed. Pat shot her a look and then held up her glass of wine for a toast. “Here’s to new friends.”
We clinked glasses and bottles, waiting a full moment before Sherry moved her glass to the others. Amy grinned. “So that wasn’t so hard.” She looked at Sherry. “I wanted to give you my condolences about Kent. I know you two were close.”
Sherry made a big show of pulling a lace-trimmed linen handkerchief out of her black Coach clutch and dabbing at her eyes. “Thank you. Kent was a dear man, and we were so happy. I’ll be lost without him.”
Pat squeezed Sherry’s hand. “I know you will.”
The table was quiet for a while and I found Sherry staring at me. “Oh, I wanted to express my condolences, too.” I took a sip of the beer.
Sherry’s face didn’t react. “A little late, don’t you think?”
Again Pat shook her head and an unspoken warning flowed between the two women.
“Thank you.” Sherry mumbled.
Amy jumped up, “Who’s ready for another round?”
“My turn to buy, I’ll come with you.” Pat stood and the two walked away, leaving Sherry and me at the table alone.
I took another pull from the bottle. By the time this “relaxing” night was over, I’d be drunk off my butt if I kept this up. I set my nearly empty bottle on the table. “So how’s the shop doing?”
Sherry shrugged. “Tomorrow we have an exclusive on an estate. Everyone loves a good deal, especially when the clothes are designer and from a celebrity owner.”
“I guess that’s true.” The silence grew between us.
Finally Sherry sighed. “I need you to tell Greg I didn’t kill Kent.”
Her statement shocked me. “Greg thinks you killed him?”
Sherry waved away my question. “There’s the unfortunate fact I was at the winery around the time he died. I was there to see if he was cheating. You understand, right? Trust but verify.”
“You got a text about him seeing someone else.” I thought about what Greg had told me earlier. “Were you having problems?”
Sherry glanced around the room to make sure no one was listening, then leaned closer. “He cheated on me. Seriously, can you imagine?”
I pressed my lips together, knowing why Sherry was worried about Greg’s impression. She sounded like she could have killed Kent just for straying. “I don’t understand what some men are thinking.”
“Exactly. He had me. What did he need anyone else for?” Sherry bit her bottom lip. “I always trusted Greg when we were married. I guess I made a mistake when I left.”
“I don’t think you being at the winery is really enough to convict you of murder. You know Greg, he’s just tying up all the loose ends.” I sipped on my beer, wondering why the woman was confiding in me.
Sherry nodded. “I just need you to convince him.” She considered me for a second. “I’m not sure why, but he seems to like you. Even trust you.”
“I hope so.” I felt my lips curve into a slight smile.
“So you’ll help me. I told Pat you’d help.” Sherry smiled and sipped her wine. “All you have to do is ask nicely and things happen your way.”
I wondered about Sherry’s philosophy on life. Was it really that easy? Ask and you shall be given? Finally I saw Pat and Amy walking back. “Oh, here comes the next round.” I lifted my bottle to finish off my beer.
Sherry leaned forward. “Thanks for helping me.”
Pat slipped into the chair between me and Sherry. “So what are you two talking about?”
Sherry took the new glass of wine from her friend, smiling, and lied, “The trunk sale. I was telling Jill all about tomorrow’s sale. She’s really excited.”
I didn’t challenge her. For the rest of the two hours, Sherry led the discussion about everything and nothing. I was still processing her request when Pat called it a night and the two left.
Amy leaned back in her chair, eyeing me. “Well, that was interesting. You were quiet.”
“That woman just never gives up.” I stood and pulled my friend to her feet. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
Saturday morning, even after the beer I’d consumed, I was up earlier than normal. Emma and I ran before I got ready for work, and the crashing waves on the beach helped clear my mind. The Tiger Lady, which was what I’d started calling the self-help author, encouraged physical activity to keep your body tuned and your mind clear. This step in the thirty-day detox she recommended would be easy for me to reach. I’d already run most days when it wasn’t raining. When it was, I had the treadmill in the upstairs bedroom I’d planned to turn into a home gym. Soon.
Tiger Lady also suggested cutting out caffeine. I ignored that advice. Maybe I could cut down, but out? Who was I kidding? My blood was half coffee and half whatever blood was made of. Besides, the author didn’t own a coffee shop. I had to try the new blends to stay up on the options for my customers. When I looked at it that way, my level of coffee intake really was a job responsibility. I filled my travel mug and screwed on the cap before I began my walk to work.
A line filled the sidewalk when I reached Vintage Duds. Women chatted excitedly as I crossed into the street to go around the crowd.
“Jill, over here!” Aunt Jackie called me over to where she stood in heels, a pencil skirt, and what looked like real pearls.
I muscled through the line, getting a few dirty looks for my apparent cutting, but no one said anything. To my face. I heard more than one mutter about who I thought I was. When I reached my aunt, she reached up and fixed my shirt collar. “What are you doing here?” I waved my hand at the closed front door. “What’s happening to cause this commotion?”
“You really should read the Examiner. They interviewed Sherry and Pat last week about the estate sale they’d bought out.” Aunt Jackie lowered her voice. “Rumor is the clothing is from one of the old film stars. I’m guessing Rita Hayworth.”
I’d forgotten about last night, Sherry telling me about the sale. I shook my head, pushing aside memories of the tense girls’ night. “Didn’t she die about thirty years ago? Who would still have her clothes for an estate sale?”
Jackie frowned at me. “You always know how to kill a party. So it’s not Rita. The paper still said shoppers would be pleasantly surprised. So I’m waiting to be wowed.”
“You know Sherry’s a pathological liar, right? This is probably the estate sale from some local nursing home or something.” That comment got me a dirty look, not only from my aunt but from the woman standing in front of her. The words had slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. This being on Sherry’s side was going to be harder than I thought.
“You need to get over this issue you have with Sherry.” Aunt Jackie sniffed. “The council’s liaison can’t hold grudges against any of the town’s business owners.”
“This isn’t personal,” I argued.
Aunt Jackie raised her perfectly tweezed eyebrows. “Really?”
I shrugged. “Okay, so it’s totally personal. I just don’t get what people see in her. She’s 100 perce
nt fake.”
“You can say that again.” A dark-haired woman standing close to Aunt Jackie muttered. She started when she realized we’d heard her. Her lips curled into an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I guess I’m a total hypocrite. I can’t stand the woman, yet I’m here, waiting for the circus to open. What does that tell you about me?”
“You like a good sale?” I smiled and held out my hand. “Jill Gardner. I own Coffee, Books, and More, just down the street. After you get done here, stop in and I’ll buy you a drink. I like honesty.”
She reached out a slender hand to shake mine. “Claire LaRue. My husband and I just bought a house out on the highway. I’ve been meaning to stop into your shop, but the move has kept us busy.”
“Speaking of the shop”—Aunt Jackie pointed to her watch—“don’t you think you should be opening soon?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I nodded to Claire. “I’m serious about that coffee. I think we’d have a lot in common if we started talking.”
“Gossiping, you mean,” my aunt grumbled.
“Fun is fun.” I waved at Claire as I pushed my way out of the throng. Of course, this time, since I was leaving, people were more than willing to let me pass. Never stand in between a girl and her sale.
As I hurried to unlock the door and let a few waiting regulars into the shop, I wondered how Claire knew Sherry. More importantly, I wanted to know why she wasn’t a fan. Aunt Jackie might call my interest gossip, but I called it intelligence gathering. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. If I had any enemies in South Cove, besides Mayor Baylor and his wife, Tina, it was Sherry.
After the crowd thinned from my Saturday morning regulars, I had a few minutes of quiet, which I took advantage of by making a mocha and curling up with a mystery I’d stuck in my purse that morning. I could only take so much nonfiction reading, especially when I was reading the self-help diatribe of the Tiger Lady. I’d just reached the part in the mystery where they’d found the body when the bell over the door rang.
