by Misty Simon
Pulling myself back to the moment, I watched as he stealthily tried to sneak another cookie from my pile. I smacked the back of his hand and gave him a frown. “I’ll call you later with anything I find. If you want to give me your number I’ll put it in my phone in case I need it.”
He rattled off the number as I dialed it into my phone. Next, I put in his name and gave him a ringtone that would make me giggle every time I heard Mission: Impossible.
“I’ll call you,” I said as I shooed him out into the hallway. “Go tell my mom you want some more cookies and make her day. Maybe she’ll leave me alone if you do.”
He went out onto the landing and I closed the door behind him with a sigh. At least that would keep my mom busy for a little while so I could look at the diary to see if there was anything worth sharing, or if it was just a bunch of Darla-isms.
* * *
Heading to Darren’s felt a little like going back to the dentist for a filling after you’d already had your teeth cleaned.
But I had promised to clean; it had to be today. At least he wouldn’t be there to tiptoe around. I’d made a list of the rooms I’d need to clean and put it together as an invoice, then also put together a list of things I’d like to know. That one I would not be leaving behind.
Two roads before my turn, a white hatchback whipped out in front of me from a side street and nearly took my headlight out. I had my hand on the horn to honk at the idiot, when I realized it was Katie. What was she doing out on the hill? Through the windshield I could see her fluffing her hair and applying lipstick in her dropped-down sun visor. Without a turn signal, or a beat of hesitation, the crazy woman squealed into a driveway on the left—my old driveway, to be exact . . .
Now, what on earth could she be doing with Waldo, unless they were . . . I couldn’t even put a name to it. Though it would explain why Katie and Waldo were found in the vicinity of each other when neither would admit to knowing each other as more than passing acquaintances.
The evidence that I would have shared with Burton was mounting. But I couldn’t share it with him because he’d think I was trying to pass off the blame. I sighed as I realized what it meant. I’d jokingly called myself an amateur sleuth earlier. Apparently, I was now giving truth to those words.
Should I follow Katie? Call Waldo?
Gnawing at my lip did not help me come to a decision. And the devil on my shoulder could not shake the thought that I should call Waldo to see what he had to say about having Katie “I don’t know her” Mitchner at his house.
Yanking the steering wheel to the right, I quickly jerked up the e-brake and sat with my phone in my hand for a moment. Should I call Gina first and see if I was doing the right thing, or just go with my gut? I’d meant to call her last night but it had gotten too late. My gut had served me well lately, and I should really trust that. Before I could second-guess myself, I dialed Waldo’s cell.
“You didn’t clean the stove,” he said without a hello or a how are you. Typical jerk.
“You don’t use the stove and neither did I when I made your sandwich. It shouldn’t need to be cleaned.” But it was the perfect opening. “Do you need something for dinner or is that what Katie brought you?”
“Jealous?”
“Nope, just wondering what the cops would say if they knew that the woman you profess to not know beyond a simple hello is at your house a little over twenty-four hours after your non-confession, that’s all.”
“Are you threatening me?” His voice rose on the end, which was a sure indication he was about to say something that was going to get me riled up. “Because if you’re threatening me, you’d better think twice. Your ass could be mine in a matter of moments. And all those cleaning jobs you depend on to make your bills? Those could dry up in a half second with one word from me. Don’t forget that even as you do forget what you saw. It has nothing to do with you, Tallulah.” He severed the connection without another word.
I needed a minute to calm down before driving the short distance to Darren’s. Who did Waldo think he was? He could not get me fired simply on his word. He was no one’s puppet master and he’d never been the supreme leader of his circle of peers.
Sufficiently unruffled because he had no power over me, I drove around the back of the Hackersham estate and parked. I almost wished Letty would be here today, even though it was her day off. I could work around the other woman, maybe even pump her for information.
But all was quiet on the Hackersham front when I let myself in through the back with the hidden key. I replaced the key as I always did, then started in on the list of rooms. The kitchen would need to be done first since it looked like someone had a hell of a time making pizza sometime in the two hours since I’d last been here. The pizza oven Darla had ensured was custom-made and impressive—due to her Italian heritage—was still warm to the touch, splattered with tomato sauce (I made sure it wasn’t blood before touching it by sniffing it), and had pieces of dough stuck to the handle.
Was Darla really Italian, though? I hadn’t had a chance to spend more time with the things I’d brought with me after my last trip here. Again I was avoiding the word stole. I had to stop doing this and would, once I figured out what they all meant. But really, if I were honest with myself, beyond the need to clear my own name, there was a part of me that was enjoying putting the clues together. And I wanted that money from Waldo.
All good reasons, but another, less stellar reason was that my curiosity was just getting the best of me. Tallie Graver, amateur sleuth, wanted to stay out of jail, get the money, and solve whodunit before anyone else.
With that in mind, I also had to be realistic. So, my plan at this point was to put all the papers and the diary back where I’d found them after I figured out what they had to say.
Toppings were strewn across the 1,300-pound butcher block Darla had demanded be put smack-dab in the middle of the kitchen. I worked around it, bagging up pepperoni, ground beef, and bacon. Someone must have been hankering for the Meat Supreme.
As I stuffed bag after bag of meat, I listened for anyone entering the house. Even though it was Letty’s day off, she still lived here. I couldn’t believe she would have left all this out. And Darren was at a dinner meeting, so I doubted he had stopped to make a gourmet pizza before heading out.
Soon enough the kitchen was cleaned and I was ready to move on. I studiously avoided the closet where I’d found Darla, not ready to go back there, no matter what it looked like. The bathrooms looked good, so I gave them a quick go-over with my rag and ammonia, then dusted and vacuumed the lower rooms. I really didn’t want to go back upstairs, yet I desperately did.
What else was there to find? I was still having a hard time believing Darla’s death had anything to do with Waldo’s missing money. Yes, stranger things had happened, but this was a small town with few secrets. How was it exploding now?
Although, Darla being Marla in a former life was not exactly a small secret, especially for a small town. I couldn’t help being astounded that she’d managed to keep it to herself all those years. Then again, it might just have been important enough to keep her mouth shut. Or was it important enough that someone shut Darla’s mouth for her?
Scrubbing at a smudge in the upstairs sunken tub Darla had turned into a garden with calla lilies and hostas, I shivered at the thought that it might actually be Darren who had killed Darla. His alibi was weak at best, and he had the most to lose if he and Darla divorced. This solved his problems.
But when I moved on to wipe a handprint off the mirror, I remembered the dinner receipt. Waldo threatening me was nothing new, but he had sounded desperate and his moods over the last twenty-four hours had been perplexing. Was he mixed up in something more than just tax fraud? Was he aware someone was coming for him on the embezzlement? And how was Katie involved? And Darla? Did Katie know Darla was involved at all? I wished I had taken the time to call Gina earlier and talk all this over with her. I’d have to make time soon.
M
y head was spinning with questions when I stepped back into Darla’s office. Somehow, I was going to have to face the hidden room again and clean the thing out. Darren and I had not talked about what precisely he meant by cleaning up the space. He could want me to dispose of everything that I couldn’t donate to charity as he’d asked, but since he hadn’t said exactly, I was going to leave it intact in case Burton needed it here. Though how he’d know about it without me saying something was a mystery to me.
Papers remained a jumbled mess on the floor, and it looked as if Darren had just shoved everything back in the space to cram the door shut. I started picking up papers and scanning them for anything interesting. I couldn’t do more than that because if I found something more, I would have no way to say anything to Burton.
Stacking the mountain of papers, I then put the boxes back on their shelves. One would not go back in the right place. I pulled it back out and stuck my hand into the space to see if something was lodged back there. Pulling out a small black case that looked worn and weathered, I stood with it in my hand. I should just put the box back where it belonged and get the heck out of here, I told myself. Unsnapping the button from the small case that looked like it would hold index cards, I saw I wasn’t far off. Except that all these note cards—every single one—was a threat of some kind for money. And they were all dated once every week, going back two years.
Before I knew what I was doing, I sat down in Darla’s office chair and pulled out all of them. There were exactly 104. Two years to the day since they had started, they stopped on the day Darla was killed. Would there be more? Did the person who had sent them know she was dead so there wouldn’t be any more money? Or would they start coming after Darren now that the cash cow was dead? This was more than the piece of paper I had back at my apartment alluding to blackmail. This was absolute proof.
There was no way to tell if more had been delivered. Darla could have had a secret post-office box where they arrived, or they could have been hand delivered. That would’ve been risky if Darla had wanted to turn them in. Which led to a thought: If Darla had threatened to turn them in, was that why she was dead?
Man, my head hurt and I had barely scratched the surface. This, combined with the receipt for dinner and the threat, led to a whole new line of questioning. If Waldo had been with Darla two nights before she was killed, then also the night before she was killed because she’d threatened him he would be prime suspect numero uno, no matter if he had been in the hospital or not. It looked way too suspicious.
And if Waldo went to jail then I would be up shit’s creek without a paddle when it came time to pay the taxman and answer for embezzlement charges if Max found enough evidence to open a case. God, could this get worse?
It was time for some answers and to come clean with Burton. I couldn’t keep this info to myself and had no real way of making it all seem innocent that I had these pieces, no matter how hard I tried.
So first I would finish up here, then I’d go see Burton and hope I didn’t end up in jail afterward. If he didn’t believe me this time then at least I could say I’d tried. Yes, I’d like to solve this all by myself and hand it to him with a bow that featured a certain swear word stamped on it, but I also knew having the police on my side would make this go much easier. If only I could come up with the right words to convince him I wasn’t trying to pass off the blame!
I still had a house to clean down the street and had hoped to corner Katie at the house, the only one who might know a thing or three about what was going on. Placing that call to Gina, I gave her a brief rundown of what had been going on, talking over her squawking and finally asking her to tie Katie to a chair again if she had to in order to keep her where I could question her. She also often seemed to be in some place she shouldn’t be, doing something she shouldn’t be doing.
Much like Max. And, if I were being honest, me.
Chapter 8
I drove away thinking about the room. I had no idea why someone would be blackmailing Darla, and I really didn’t need to know. Except that my insatiable curiosity was getting the better of me. I was positively itching to find out why and when and how. Even if it was not connected to Waldo and the money, I wanted to know, not just to clear my name, but to have the knowledge itself.
I could grill Burton to get an update, but first I had to hand over the goods and figure out how to get him to believe me. No easy task.
I saw Katie’s car in the Bean There parking lot when I pulled up. I wanted to corner her before she got away. Again.
Gina better have followed my request to tie the woman to a chair, if need be, because I meant it. I wanted Katie to spill, and I knew just how to get her to tell me everything I wanted to know.
Of course, I might have to make that rope into a lasso first. Katie bolted toward the back door as soon as she caught a glimpse of me.
Now, I was not made for running and she knew that. I had a few pounds here and there that I should probably say good-bye to, but I also had an affinity for whoopee pies I wasn’t willing to change. Fortunately, Gina had a head start on Katie and blocked the back door just as I came around the corner, ready to truck my way out to the alley if I had to.
Leaning against the wall with my hand on my heart, I thought perhaps I should consider going back to the gym. Eventually. Right now, I had more important things to do.
“Katie,” I sawed out between bellows of heaving breaths. “You are going to talk, and you are going to talk now. I remember how loose those bonds were on your hands and the fact that your slump was a little too practiced. Along with the fact that you are apparently buddy-buddy with my ex-husband, I’m going to say you had a little more going on that night than getting shoved into the coffeehouse as an unwilling prisoner.”
Katie stood there mute, frustrating the ever-loving daylights out of me. I didn’t know precisely what had happened, but I knew it was something, probably something important. Coming out the gate with my accusations might not have been the best plan, yet it had been the best one I could think of.
Unfortunately, it didn’t do anything to move Katie to say anything more.
“So, you’re sticking to your story that it was a guy who just randomly shoved you into the coffeehouse and tied you up, duct-taping your mouth for no other reason than he could?”
She stared at me with venom in her eyes. “That’s what I told you and that’s what I told the police. It’s the truth.”
As if Katie had told the truth in her whole life. She’d lied about her hair color, her weight, her boyfriend situation. Hell, she’d lied about her shoe size, though I had no idea why that would’ve mattered to anyone.
Steam was probably streaming out of my ears, but short of stuffing Katie in a chair and torturing answers out of her, there was nothing else I could do.
“Why won’t you just tell the truth? I saw your car at Waldo’s even after you said the two of you don’t know each other. So why were you there?”
Katie’s face was immediately covered in a smug smile I wanted to smear off. “Jealous, Tallie? Just because your ex finally saw what a pain in the ass you are doesn’t have anything to do with me, other than I showed him the way. He’s done with you.”
“I’m not jealous. I’m the one who left him, for God’s sake. He’s a slimeball.”
That wiped the smile right off her face. “How dare you?” And she went for the hair, like a typical girl.
I tried to unravel myself from the lock Katie had on my head. Gina pitched in too, but Katie was like a woman gone wild. She gnashed her teeth and gripped my hair tighter. At one point, I felt strands let go of their hold on my head. I’d be bald in no time if we didn’t stop her.
And then Max was there. He had the element of surprise still, despite the noise, and gripped Katie around the middle, pulling her away in a flash. The other woman had a handful of my hair, though, and held it up triumphantly as she spit at me.
“You’re going to clean that up,” Gina said in a deadly calm voic
e. “Or you will never come in here again.”
Katie’s answer was to bare her teeth at Gina while still caught up in Max’s arms.
“That’s it.” Gina pointed at the front door. “Deposit her outside. She’s never getting another pumpkin latte.” She made eye contact with Katie. “Find another place to guzzle your caffeine. Maybe the diner will take your business, but I don’t want another penny of your money.”
Max carried the squiggling and squirming Katie to the front of the store while everyone goggled at the spectacle. Honestly, I was trying hard not to laugh, even though my head hurt like I’d gotten my hair caught in the car door. And I still didn’t have those answers I needed.
As soon as the front door closed, Katie stomped off down the street, gesticulating wildly. The buzz of conversation increased tenfold at this latest piece of gossip. Not that it would go far toward my trying to keep a low profile. Some things just had to be done.
“You okay?” I asked Gina.
“What are you worrying about me for? You’re the one missing hair.”
I patted my hair and found most of it still there. I could deal with that later. “I just feel bad for bringing this to your place of business.”
“I’m fine, but she’s not going to be when my mom calls her mother. If you think my mom can be bad, you should see her sister in full swing.” And then we both burst into giggles.
“Oh, man, I was sure I was going to be wearing a wig for a while.” I ran a hand over my head again, and felt a slightly bald patch further back than I had expected. I turned my back to Gina. “How bad is it?”
“You’re going to have to go see Amanda at the salon and get some cut off, I think. There’s no way she’s going to be able to blend that in.”
I took a moment to grieve for my hair, then figured a shorter cut couldn’t hurt. Besides, there wasn’t anyone I was trying to impress with long hair, anyway.
