by Harper Lin
Amelia turned around. Her eyes were red, but she wasn’t crying.
“Can you believe that?” She shook her head. “Did you hear what he said?”
“We did.” Lila walked over to Amelia and rubbed her back.
“I’m sorry about what he said about your mojito cupcakes, Beatrice. The guy’s never had good taste in food. He likes creamed corn.” Amelia shook her head and patted Lila’s hand.
Beatrice harrumphed. “Just wait until his wife tastes them. What’s he going to do when she demands that he come back for six more? Trust me. She will.” Beatrice looked sideways at her co-workers from under a furrowed brow. “And then the revenge will be all that much sweeter.” She hissed that last part as if she were a villain in a Shakespearean play.
“You’re a pip, Beatrice. You really are.” Lila smirked with sinister approval and looked at Amelia, who was chuckling and shaking her head.
Chapter Twelve
That night, Dan stopped by Amelia’s house to check on her. He brought a bouquet of flowers, a can of chicken noodle soup, and a trashy tabloid to read.
“I wasn’t sure how sick you were,” he said.
“You won’t believe the day I had.” Amelia proceeded to tell Dan about John showing up at the Pink Cupcake and the gory details of their exchange. “Can you believe it?”
“I’m sorry, Amelia. But that guy needs a punch in the face.”
“I know it. But it isn’t going to be me who does it.”
“Of course not. Me neither,” said Dan.
“But I know what I know, and now I don’t know what to do with it.”
“I’d say let it go for a couple of days. Sometimes big breakthroughs come when we are focused on something else.” Dan patted her hand as she sat down at the kitchen table, and he proceeded to cook her soup on the stove.
“I couldn’t agree more. Tell me. What did Jasmine Peterson have to say?”
Dan let out a bitter laugh that Amelia wasn’t expecting.
“This sounds juicy if it’s making you laugh,” she said.
“I’m glad you’re sitting down.”
Amelia propped her chin in her hands and leaned on the table to listen.
“According to Jasmine, she claims that although she and Spencer have a lot of over-the-top photos of themselves together on her Facebook page, she never had any sort of intimate relationship with him.”
“Really? Do you believe her?”
“That isn’t all.” Dan held up a wooden spoon as if he was about to conduct an orchestra with it. “Jasmine admitted to having feelings for Spencer. He liked to party. He was hot. And he always had money.”
“I can see the first two qualities, but the money part? Really?”
“Jasmine said he always had almost a thousand dollars on him at all times. It was the allowances from his cougar fund, to use Jasmine’s words.” Dan stirred the soup after taking it out of the microwave.
“What about the picture of her with him and defying her folks? Does she really think they didn’t look like a couple? I’m not buying it. She’s trying to protect herself from the wrath of a father who still believes his daughter is a good girl and a man who, by all legal standards, is a pedophile. It’s a line of bull.” Amelia smiled as Dan put the bowl of soup in front of her and handed her a spoon.
He sat down across from her, as he usually did when they ate together.
“Normally, I’d agree with you, but Jasmine said one thing that made me believe she was telling the truth.”
“What?” Amelia slurped her soup.
“She said Spencer was on the verge of being an Internet sensation. He would have been able to do whatever he wanted. But not now. Now she would have to find another guy to get her coke from.” Dan got up, went to the cupboard on the other side of the fridge, grabbed a stack of crackers, and set it on the table for Amelia.
“So, she did drugs and he sold drugs? That makes her believable? Plus, none of his girlfriends even mentioned drugs.”
“If you were a socialite having a fling with Portland’s most desirable bachelor, would you mention anything about drugs? Especially in that crowd of people you had to mingle with?” Dan popped a cracker into his mouth. “But that isn’t the part that stands out. I’m talking about the Internet angle.”
“I’m not following.”
“That was exactly what I said to Jasmine. She told me that Spencer was tipping the scales on his Instagram and YouTube channels. He wanted to be a celebrity and was on his way to becoming just that. He took the money from his ‘cougar fund’ and bought some dope with it to sell at a markup. Then he used that money to fund his profiles and get him more exposure.”
“This seems like a lot of work for a YouTube channel.”
“Well, when you don’t have any real talent or brains and your only gift is working the ladies, this is probably what it takes,” Dan replied. “That and some fancy jewelry and shoes, I guess, is all it takes to impress the masses online.”
“That’s not really a good way to speak of the deceased.” Amelia chuckled.
“It’s not a good way to talk about anyone living, either. But he was about to break into the Internet big league when he got ambushed on the jogging trail.” Dan took another cracker. “How’s the soup?”
“Best soup I ever tasted. You must give me the recipe,” she teased before slurping another spoonful. “Wait. Did you say fancy jewelry?”
“Yeah. According to Jasmine, he was always wearing something sparkly. She claims he had a Rolex that he never took off, but there was no Rolex on the body when we found him.” Dan looked at the table. “He was wearing a gold chain. He didn’t have a wallet, either, but his driver’s license was found tucked in his sock.”
“In his sock? Why?”
“Spoken like someone who doesn’t run unless chased,” Dan teased. “A wallet is big and bulky. Easy to lose when you are running. But tucking your ID in your sock is easy, light, and as long as the elastic holds up, your ID will be there when you cross the finish line.”
“Interesting,” Amelia said. But she wasn’t thinking about the ID. She was thinking about the Rolex.
Florence said she had given Spencer a Rolex. But there wasn’t one on the body. Plus, Florence had an athletic figure. She was someone not only used to working out but obviously had the strength to do some real damage with a pipe.
Trying to control her excitement, Amelia remembered the gaping wound in Florence’s house and the random pipes scattered around.
“Sorry, honey, but I’ve got to get going.” Dan looked at his watch and sighed. “There’s a stack of paperwork on my desk that isn’t going to do itself.”
“Isn’t it crazy that guys like you don’t get a secretary to help out, but guys like John have several at their disposal.” She frowned. “Yikes. I sounded really bitter right there, didn’t I?”
“You did. I liked it because it’s the truth.” Dan kissed her on top of the head. “Remember what I said. Let that situation with John rest for a little while. You’ll know what to do when the time comes.”
She squeezed his hand and walked him to the door. Once his car was out of the driveway, Amelia dashed upstairs. She was going to go visit her friend Florence Carmichael. She had a couple of questions to ask her.
Chapter Thirteen
As Amelia pulled up to the gate, she thought the thing had grown about ten feet higher and become all that more menacing since she’d screeched out of here just a few days ago.
“She threatened to kill you, Amelia. So be brave. She’s all talk. Well, if she killed Spencer, she’s not just all talk.”
Amelia licked her lips as she pulled up to the intercom and the little camera eye. Squaring her shoulders, she slipped into her best poker face and pressed the buzzer.
“Yes?” snapped Florence on the other end.
“Flo! It’s your friend Amelia Harley. Hey, got a minute?”
“I told you not to come back here.”
“I know what you to
ld me, Florence. But this has to do with Spencer’s Rolex. Come on. You know you want to talk to me. Let me in.” Amelia smiled as if she had an army of Green Berets behind her.
There was a buzz, and the creepy wrought iron gate slowly swung open.
Florence was waiting on the front stoop as she had been before with her arms crossed and her right foot tapping in annoyance. She was wearing a peach-colored pair of jogging pants and a matching top so tight that from a distance, she could have been mistaken as being naked.
Amelia stopped the car and got out.
“Thanks for sparing a few minutes for me,” Amelia said.
“What is this about? What are you babbling about a Rolex for?”
“You said you bought a Rolex for Spencer, right? One of a kind with rubies and what have you?”
“It was two karats of rubies and a karat and a half of diamonds set in fourteen-karat gold,” Florence snapped.
“Wow. I can see why you’d want that back,” Amelia nodded.
“What?”
“The police said that the Rolex wasn’t found on Spencer’s body.”
“So?”
“So you knew that Spencer was going for a run. It was important that he stay in shape for his Instagram photos and YouTube videos. You obviously take your health seriously. You are the only one who could have kept up with him.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, Florence, that you didn’t like being made a fool of on the Internet. Spencer had pictures of himself with you, but he also had several other women. None of them gave him a Rolex. Sure, they slipped him some cash now and again, let him drive their cars or bought him suits and shoes. But you sank a small fortune into him.”
Amelia could see the workout Florence’s jaw was getting as she clenched her teeth.
“And he used it to get the attention of more ladies, to improve his appearance online, and to focus on the one and only person you couldn’t compete with: himself. You took one of those pipes from your bathroom construction. You followed Spencer to the jogging path, and when it was quiet and he was alone, you charged up behind him and cracked him in the head.”
Tears formed in Florence’s eyes. “No!”
“Then when he fell down, you finished him off.” Amelia was ready to dash to her car if Florence made any sudden moves. “You took the Rolex back. But you left his ID and his gold chains. Not quite a robbery gone bad.”
“I wasn’t anywhere near the jogging path when Spencer got killed,” Florence hissed. “Take a look around. Do I look like I need another Rolex? I don’t care about that. I’ve got three signature Rolex watches for myself that are collecting dust in a jewelry box. I couldn’t care less if someone stole it. I just hope they are more grateful to have it than Spencer was.” She wiped the tears that fell down her cheeks. “I didn’t kill Spencer. But between you and me, I’m glad someone did.”
Without any more threats, a sad, lonely Florence Carmichael went back into her house and slammed the door behind her.
Amelia stood in the driveway for a few minutes digesting everything Florence had said. “Why does my gut say she’s telling the truth?” Amelia chewed her bottom lip.
The gate was wide open when she reached the end of the driveway. Instead of heading back home, Amelia drove to the scene of the crime. It wasn’t dark, but the sun was just about to dip below the horizon when she arrived and parked her car.
The trail was actually busy with walkers, joggers, bicyclists, and the occasional set of lovers walking hand in hand down the paved trail.
Amelia got to the spot where Spencer’s body had been found and gasped. Balloons and stuffed animals and candles and hearts lay everywhere along the small six-foot patch of ground where he had been found.
“This is unbelievable.” She stooped and looked at some of the notes. They were love letters stating “gone too soon” and “you will be missed” and “such a beautiful soul.” Just as Amelia was about to leave, a girl about Jasmine’s age came trotting up with a tiny teddy bear to add to the collection.
“Did you know him?” Amelia asked.
“I followed him on Instagram.” She sighed. “He was amazing.”
Amelia had just taken a deep breath and started to walk back the way she had come when a light down the street to her right caught her attention. In bright-blue letters on a yellow background were the words Smitty’s Pawn Shop.
Amelia thought about the Rolex and wondered. Before she could talk herself out of it, she was in front of the shop, yanking the door open.
Smitty’s smelled like someone had spilled a gallon jug of bleach in the place. There was a long glass counter that held everything from engagement rings to cameras to watches. Looking over the variety of timepieces, Amelia waited for someone to come and help her. The place was quiet like a tomb except for the faint sound of music coming from the corner of the store at the farthest end. Amelia walked over and saw an overweight man perched on a high-backed stool. His face was scraggly looking, with stubble and acne scars. He was staring at Amelia with two deep-set beady blue eyes.
Amelia smiled, but it brought nothing but what Amelia perceived as more scrutiny from the man.
“Hi,” she said and walked up to the counter. She was separated from the man by a crudely made barrier like a bank teller’s window. “I was looking at your watches.”
Still nothing. If the man hadn’t blinked, she would have called the paramedics, having assumed he was dead. “I was told there was a Rolex with rubies in your display. I didn’t see it. Are you keeping it someplace else? If you are, I’d like to take a look at it.”
“Sold already,” the man grumbled.
“Do you know to who?”
The man smirked a little but shook his head. It was obvious that Amelia looked like a fish out of water asking the owner of a pawn shop to tell her who was buying what was obviously a hot watch.
“I see.” Amelia took out her phone and dialed a random number. “Hi. I’d like to speak to Detective Walishovski. Please tell him it’s Amelia and I’m at…”
“Hold up, ma’am.” The man scooted in his seat and waved through the glass to get Amelia’s attention. “I know about your watch.”
She put down the phone.
“That watch came in four days ago. It’s been bought already. I can’t tell you who brought it in.”
“But you keep records of that. I know you do. You have to. And if it’s discovered that you had the watch that belonged to a guy who is now dead, that might not only be a problem for your business but a problem for you personally. Don’t you think?” Amelia really was trying to appeal to the man’s reason. She knew when he scratched his stubbly face, making sandpaper sounds, that she wasn’t going to get very far.
He leaned close to the window and sized Amelia up.
“You look like a nice lady. So I’ll tell you this: Brewster Lee brought it in. He said he won it playing poker with some high rollers in Atlantic City over the weekend. But in his line of work, it wasn’t practical to wear it. So he wanted quick cash, and that’s what I gave him.”
“Who bought it?”
“Like I said, lady. You look like a nice person and totally out of your element here. I could tell you who bought it. But I don’t think you want that kind of trouble.” The man’s eyes went from an icy blue stare to pleading. “I think you’d best be on your way.”
Amelia took a deep breath, gave him a sad smile but nodded and left. Outside, she called Dan for real and told him where she was.
“My gosh, Amelia!” he shouted. “I want you to get in your car and go home. Now.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I know Brewster Lee. I also know his boss, Sampson Hines. Those guys are dangerous, Amelia. Really dangerous. If they see you loitering around and find out you are asking questions, we are going to have a lot more problems than finding out who killed Spencer Randall. Please, tell me you are in your car and going home.”
“I am, Dan. I am getting
to my car right now.”
Amelia hung up, and as quickly as she could without drawing too much attention to herself, she headed back toward the jogging path. She had only been in the pawn shop a few minutes, yet it seemed that all the fitness enthusiasts had called it quits at the same time. There were a few runners off in the distance, and a bike rider zoomed past, barely noticing Amelia as she hustled along.
Out of the corners of her eyes, every shadow looked like a man crouching or standing. She turned around half a dozen times to make sure no one was sneaking up on her from behind. While holding her breath, she identified her own footsteps against the asphalt and listened for another set. Had she heard some? There was no one behind her. There was no one in front of her. She was all alone.
With total disregard for how she looked, Amelia sprinted to her car. Awkwardly she pulled her keys from her pocket and pressed the button to get the driver’s-side door unlocked. She reached the sedan, yanked the door open, dove in and pulled the door shut just as a jogger appeared from one of the intersecting paths. He stared right at her.
Amelia took a couple deep breaths, started the car, and pulled out of the lonely lot, vowing never to go jogging ever.
Chapter Fourteen
“Amelia, what were you thinking?” Lila scolded. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”
“I do now,” she said while mixing light-purple frosting for the lemon-and-lavender cupcakes that were on today’s menu. “Dan is probably going to give me a serious talking to.” Amelia smiled a little. “He worries, and yet he tells me all the gory details of his cases.”
“You are a match made in heaven.” Lila looked at the receipts she was doing at the order window when she stopped. “Uh-oh. Amelia?”
“What is it?”
“John. And he’s not alone. He’s got a pregnant woman with him. I’m assuming it’s Jennifer, but…” Lila pulled her lips down in a frown and shrugged.
“Ah-ha!” Beatrice quipped. “‘Welcome to my parlor,’ said the spider to the fly.”
