Brett’s frown eased. “I feel the same way. So, shall we start with appetizers?”
Lisa gaped at him a second. That was a quick turn from upset to hungry. But maybe he had low blood sugar and that was why he’d reacted so strongly.
“Appetizers sound great,” she said. “If you want to start with them, I mean.”
They had stuffed mushrooms and fried calamari with a spicy marinara dipping sauce.
“Isn’t there something just eerie about putting tentacles in your mouth?” Lisa said, popping a calamari piece into her mouth.
“I never thought about it,” Brett said. “Penny always likes to get the calamari when it’s a personal lunch, but she skips it for client meals because of the potential for mess.”
“Yeah, my mother has rules for everything. I can only imagine that she has a list of them somewhere for what to eat in what social situation. I like to order whatever looks good in the moment.”
“Her deliberate way of looking at the world is one of the things that makes Penny such a great mentor,” Brett said, biting into a mushroom cap.
“So, have you always wanted to go into real estate?”
“Actually, I thought I would go into architecture.”
“Really? What changed your mind?”
“In a word, Brutalism.”
“Um, like, you were bullied or something?”
Brett laughed. “No, it’s a school of architecture. It comes from the French word for raw, because the style uses so much raw concrete in its designs.”
“Oh.”
“It is the worst style in the world. If you want to picture what it looks like, think of the giant, unwelcoming Soviet bloc style government buildings from the sixties.”
“Oh! Yeah, I’ve seen that.”
“My very first architecture professor was obsessed with Brutalism, and instead of starting us on the classics, he kept pushing us to study these monstrosities that make the world look like a prison.”
Lisa cringed. Prison architecture was a subject she was all too familiar with.
“I just couldn’t take it,” he continued. “I changed majors after one semester.”
“What did you switch to?”
“Marketing.”
“Oh, hmm.”
“But I never lost my love of classic buildings.”
Lisa smiled. “Yeah, I love the old classics, too. When I was little, I would sit in my mother’s office and page through these illustrated books of houses for hours.”
“Those books are one of the lovely things about Penny’s office.”
The server brought the salad course, and Lisa concentrated on eating. Lettuce was another food that often meant a risk of dripping dressing on her clothes and ruining them. She watched Brett eat, wondering why he kept bringing up her mother. Sure, Penny was the connection between the two of them, but now that they were actually out on a date, it seemed like it shouldn’t be relevant.
“So, um, have you lived in Moss Creek long?” she said, finishing her salad.
“A few years. I was in Flagstaff, at the university, when I met Penny at a networking event. She said that real estate was set to really boom, and that she’d train me, and that was that.”
“Have you ever been tempted to have a non-work-appropriate relationship with a coworker or a boss?”
He looked at her strangely. “Why would you ask me something like that?”
“No reason. Just one of those funny Hollywood questions, I guess.”
Nero strolled over with his violin and began to play for the young couple next to them, who had moved on to making goo-goo eyes at each other over a plate of lasagna. Lisa listened for a moment to the sweet music before turning back to her date.
“I guess I should just address the elephant in the room,” Lisa said. “The Comstock property. What happened?”
“What?” he said sharply.
“I know, I should have been more diligent, too, but I mean, you’re the professional.” She paused, trying to think of how to say it. “Did you have any clue that something was off about Roland? Like, at any point in the process, did it just feel wrong to you?”
He scrunched his eyebrows together in a frown and shook his head. “I don’t know. Should I have? Maybe. Probably.”
“So… what happened?”
“The so-called Roland Comstock was a conman. End of story.”
They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment before Brett put on his salesman smile. “Your commercial was good work. What got you into the acting business?”
It was Lisa’s turn to frown. “Ugh, that commercial is so embarrassing. I can’t believe Carly invited the whole town to come and see it.”
“And your acting career?”
“It wasn’t much of a career, really. I moved to LA not long after high school, and stayed for a decade. If I was going to make it, I would have made it already.” She shrugged and looked for the server, hoping their spaghettini with lemon would arrive soon.
Brett nodded sympathetically. “What else should I know about you? How have you been spending your time since you got back?”
“Let’s see, obviously you know about the coffee shop, and the mobile coffee delivery. That’s been going fine, I guess, but I really want to get into the Folly and make it a real gathering space. That house has been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember.”
“It’s a special place, all right.”
“I just wish I could get out from under suspicion of Roland’s murder. I know he wasn’t really Roland, but that’s how I think of him. I mean, what was he doing back in the Folly after the sale was done? Was he about to skip town and someone lured him in first?”
Brett looked at her intently. “Have you been investigating the murder?”
“I guess you could say that. I mean, my questions managed to get my cousin Toby pulled off the case, so the chief of police definitely thinks I’ve been investigating. Or interfering, as he would put it.”
“And what have you found?”
She sighed. “Not much, actually. All of the suspects have airtight alibis.”
“Airtight? All of them?”
“Well, except for me. I went to bed early that night. But everyone else who even knew the man seemed to be somewhere verifiable. Jake Peterman was at the bar with a bunch of people. Mrs. Robert — the woman who he’d taken in a matrimony scam, and who’d followed him here… suspicious, right? — was actually in the same room with the chief of police. And Jim Johnson… Actually, I don’t know his alibi, but since he’s been murdered, probably by the same person, I think we can cross him off the list. My aunt,” Lisa scowled, thinking about it, “my aunt was with my dad. You and Mom were at that banquet in Flagstaff that night. I’m the only person without a solid alibi, and I’m the only one I know didn’t do it!”
“Hmm.”
“I must have made a mistake somewhere. One of those alibis has to be less airtight than it seems. Maybe someone got the time wrong, or the date. If I could only interrogate people properly instead of just asking around about them. Or following them.”
Brett picked up a breadstick and pointed it at Lisa like it was a flashlight. “Where were you on the night of the murder?” he said in a 1930s noir detective voice.
Lisa laughed politely. “Yeah. That would be helpful. Hey, do you know if Roland had contact with anyone else in town? Is there someone I’ve missed?”
Brett looked away. “I hardly knew the man. But there must be someone else, since everyone has an alibi.”
Lisa’s phone buzzed in her purse, jostling her leg with a telltale vibration. She ignored it and let it vibrate its way to voicemail.
Nero came to their table with his violin in hand. “How are you tonight, lovely Lisa and Signore Brett? Can Nero play a melody for you?”
Brett smiled and said, “Perhaps a little Vivaldi?”
“Oh, I was just about to excuse myself to the ladies’. Can we take a rain check?” Lisa said.
“For y
ou, anything,” Nero said.
In the ladies’ room Lisa pulled out her phone to listen to the voicemail. It was Dr. Morris.
“Hi, uh, this is Mo, um, Dr. Morris. I’m going to try to leave the kind of message you demand. It’s about the murder.”
Lisa was startled that the veterinarian was calling about the murder. She listened intently to the rest of the message, hoping he would be successful in his attempt to leave complete information this time.
“I heard about the police suspecting you. Obviously ridiculous. But I know how you can clear your name. The video feed for the kittens. The camera catches part of the courtyard. But the recorder/receiver is set up to erase old footage on a 268-hour cycle. Or about eleven days. Um, that’s everything, I think. Call me?”
Lisa stared at the phone. A 268-hour cycle? That would mean that by tomorrow the footage of the night of the murder would be gone. She had to get that recorder/receiver tonight, before the time of the murder. Or sooner, in case the murderer had arrived early and waited to spring a trap on Roland. She had to get out of here right away and get that footage!
But what would Brett say? He was acting pretty strange at dinner. Jumpy almost. She didn’t really think he wanted to be there with her. If anything, it seemed like he was more interested in Penny. But would he be insulted if she ducked out early?
Maybe she didn’t have to. Maybe she could slip out right now, run over and get that recorder/receiver, and then come back without him knowing she was gone.
Or maybe Dr. Morris could just get the footage himself. That would be much easier. She called him back.
His voicemail picked up.
“Hi, this is Lisa. Thank you for leaving a complete message this time! I can’t believe we didn’t think of the video footage of the crime scene. I was actually calling to see if you could go get the camera, but don’t worry about it. I’ll find a way to get over there myself. Thank you again. I am so relieved that I can prove my innocence at last. Bye.”
She slipped her phone back in her purse and took out her lipstick and fixed her lips before leaving the ladies’ room. The men’s room door was swinging shut as she stepped into the hallway. Instead of turning toward the dining room, she went the other way to the kitchen. She peeped through the window before ducking inside.
A sous chef stirring some sauce looked up at Lisa in surprise.
“Can you help me out?” Lisa said. “It’s a matter of life and death.”
“Um, sure,” the sous chef said, wrinkling her brow.
“I need to run somewhere real quick, and these shoes aren’t exactly made for running. This is a weird request, but are there any extra clogs I could borrow?”
The sous chef laughed. “That is one of the weirder requests I’ve had from a customer. But yeah, there’s some extra rubber clogs in the back by the mop buckets.” She jerked her head in that direction.
“Thank you! Oh, and can I ask a second favor?”
The other woman blinked. “You can ask.”
“Could you tell Nero that I need a distraction for my date so he doesn’t get suspicious while I’m gone? I’m coming right back, I swear.”
“Sure, tell Nero to distract the blonde’s date. No problem.”
“You’re a life-saver.”
Chapter 28
Lisa scurried to the mop buckets, took off her pretty but impractical heels and put on the rubber clogs before running out the back door.
She felt ridiculous running across the darkened town square in her short skirt and thin blouse with the borrowed rubber clogs. She hoped nobody saw her.
The dark mass of the Folly loomed over the square. Lisa shivered and rubbed her arms, wishing she had a jacket or even a light cotton sweater. She hopped over the chain across the driveway and approached the beautiful old house.
A breeze blew leaves in a swirl around her feet as she mounted the porch steps. Behind her, she heard the chain jingling. Was that the wind? She looked back and caught her breath.
Almost hidden in the gloom of the ponderosas, a man struggled to step over the chain and onto the driveway. Could he see Lisa? No, the porch was entirely dark. But who was he and why was he on the property?
As quietly as she could, Lisa dug in her purse for the key to the Folly that she’d managed to keep. She inserted it in the lock, praying that Claire Comstock hadn’t changed the locks.
The key turned, and Lisa pushed the door open with excruciating slowness. She could hear footsteps in the gravel drive as the man approached.
The door gave a hideous squeak just as she got it far enough open to fit through the doorway. The footsteps in the driveway stopped. Lisa wondered if the man could hear her heart pounding as she stood frozen in silence.
The footsteps started again, faster, and she slipped inside. She closed the door as quietly as she could and fumbled to find the lock. The bottom stair of the front porch steps creaked, and she gave up the idea of locking the door and fled into the darkness of the house.
Lisa tiptoed past the front parlor. Should she hide in the library? No, she needed to get that recording receiver. Why hadn’t she told Dr. Morris to just put it in the kitchen? It would be so easy to reach now and flee through the back door. But no, she had to tell him to put it upstairs and out of the way of the renovations, reasoning that they wouldn’t get to redoing the back bedroom until long after the kittens were born.
She started up the stairs, stepping as quickly and quietly as she could. She had to get off that staircase. If whoever was out there had a flashlight, it would be so easy for him to come inside and immediately find her if she was on the stairs.
She was almost on the top landing when the front door swung open and a thin yellow flashlight beam swept side to side in the hall below. Lisa swallowed a yelp of fear and scrambled onto the landing and out of range of the light.
“Hello? I know you’re in there,” a voice called, echoing off the marble fireplace in the front parlor.
Lisa froze, recognizing the voice. What was Brett doing here?
“You know I’m going to find you,” he said in a sing-song. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Why had he followed her here? Should she let him know where she was, and they could laugh it off and go back to the restaurant together? No, something wasn’t right. Her gut churned.
“You should have left well enough alone.” He sounded genuinely sad. But more importantly, his voice was moving down the hall past the staircase and toward the library and kitchen.
If she could get that receiver and get down the stairs while he was in the back of the house, maybe she could get out the front door and back to lights and safety before he caught up with her. She thought of her feet in their borrowed kitchen clogs. It didn’t seem likely. Brett was athletic and fit. Not that she wasn’t, but did she want to bet on her being faster than him, in the dark, in a skirt and borrowed shoes?
She heard a clatter and a string of shouted curse words down in the kitchen. It sounded like he’d tripped on the tiles she’d unloaded that last morning before everything went wrong.
“Lisa! I know you’re in here. Come out right now!”
The anger in his voice made her shiver. She crept down the dark hallway toward the back bedroom. Whatever else happened, she had to get to that receiver. She had to prove the truth.
But could it be true? Could Brett have killed Roland? But why else would he have followed her here, and why else would he sound so angry and so unhinged?
She was almost certain Dr. Morris had said the receiver was in the closet in the back bedroom. Halfway down the hall, a floorboard squeaked under her weight. Immediately, the sounds from downstairs stopped.
“Upstairs, are we?” Brett’s voice floated up to her, sounding smugly satisfied.
She rushed into the bedroom, where broken glass crunched underfoot. In the closet, she desperately felt around for the receiver, pushing and grabbing at everything. She heard a click. The sound brought her back to her teenaged years of expl
oring the Folly — she’d just unlocked the secret passage up to the tower room.
Her scrambling hands finally found the receiver. She grabbed it and scooted across the room.
Heavy footsteps on the stairs made every step squeak and groan in protest. Before he could get to the top, she had to hide. She needed more time.
Lisa darted into the hallway and pressed against the secret passage. It opened, and a grave-like darkness swallowed her as she pushed it shut behind herself and tiptoed up the spiral stairs to the third-floor tower.
The darkness was absolute. Lisa’s old nightmares surged to the surface of her mind and threatened to pull her down into panic. Locked up, walls closing in, buried alive, forgotten, dark… locked up, buried alive. Lisa’s breathing sped up until she was gasping for air, desperate to get a full deep breath.
She’d never been so afraid. She couldn’t take it. She wanted to scream and cry. She wanted her mother.
At the thought of Penny, she felt a little pulse of calm. She remembered the daily postcards in jail, saw her favorite one, with the panoramic view of the Grand Canyon, the card that made her feel like the world still had space and openness left in it.
She sucked in a breath and held it for a count of three before releasing it. She could do this. She just had to breathe, and think, and not panic.
At the bottom of the stairs there was a crash and the sound of wood and plaster splintering. Brett had found the entrance to the secret passage.
She heard a crash from the second floor, followed by a string of curse words, then another crash as the door to the secret passage broke apart under the force.
“You can’t hide from me!” Brett yelled. He growled, an animalistic sound. “Where is that flashlight?” he muttered.
The tower room was small, only a few paces across. On one side was the top of the spiral stairs. On the wall to the left of the stairs there was a small window overlooking the back of the house. No escape that way.
Across the little room from the window was the balcony overlooking the courtyard, where Roland had fallen to his death. Now Lisa had no doubt he’d been pushed.
Last Chance for Murder (Lisa Chance Cozy Mysteries Book 1) Page 16
