My imagination was running away with me. What I was thinking couldn’t be right. Kathleen had been married to Trent then to Ransom. Two hot guys. She wouldn’t…
“Did anyone else see the, uh, evidence?” I asked.
Corey shook his head and looked smug. “He was careful never to damage her face.”
He was bragging about seeing Kathleen’s bruises in places not exposed to the public.
I looked at Fred to see if he was thinking the same impossible thing I was thinking.
Fred refused to look at me.
He was thinking it too.
Corey and Kathleen?
Yuck!
Chapter Eight
“That woman killed Ransom!” I said as soon as we were in Fred’s car with the door closed. “She killed her husband so she could collect the insurance and be with her disgusting lover.”
Fred eased the car out of the parking lot and merged into traffic, a simple maneuver since the closest car was over two blocks away. “Not possible. She was with your boyfriend when he was killed.”
“You know what I meant. She didn’t do it with her own hands. She and Corey plotted together. He murdered Ransom while she established an unshakeable alibi with a cop.”
“That is a logical possibility, but we need a little more evidence before we arrest the two of them.”
“You can arrest them? I knew it! You’re an undercover CIA agent!”
“I was being facetious.”
He didn’t deny that he was a CIA agent.
I stared into the darkness outside the windshield. “We’ll get more evidence.”
“Any thoughts on how we’re going to do that?”
“You’re the CIA agent. You come up with an idea.”
“I’m still looking into that key. I’m quite certain it goes to a padlock, but the location of that padlock remains a mystery.”
That was a first. Fred was having trouble finding something? “Have you checked…?”
“Yes?”
Where did one begin to look for a padlock? “I have no idea what the rest of that sentence was going to be.”
“I’ve checked the local storage units and haven’t found one in Ransom’s name, though he could be using an alias if he really wanted to hide something.”
“There’s a storage unit facility just a couple of blocks from Death by Chocolate. Maybe Ransom had been there to leave something when he came to my place.”
Fred turned onto our street. “I checked there first.”
“Oh.” I was disappointed my theory was wrong, but excited that my mind had begun to work like Fred’s except a little slower. “Okay, so you’ve got that under control. I think our next step is to have a chat with Kathleen about her relationship with Corey.”
Fred pulled into the exact middle of his driveway and stopped. “She’ll come to us. To you, at least. Corey will brag to her about being the subject of an article in our nonexistent magazine. If he mentions your red hair, she’ll know.”
“I get it! If you’d wanted me to be disguised, you’d have made me wear a wig again. This way you’re bringing her to us. You’re brilliant!”
He didn’t deny it.
He got out of the car, came around and opened my door. I sprang out and gave him a hug. He sort of hugged me back. A sort-of hug is a major expression of emotion for Fred.
I shivered as I crossed our yards to my house. The night air had a definite chill. A few fallen leaves littered both yards. Yesterday there had been a lot of leaves. Tonight Fred’s elves would again clear every leaf from our lawns. He won’t admit to having an entire staff of garden elves, but I’m not gullible. I know all that yard work doesn’t happen by magic.
Henry trotted across the street to meet me. He had something in his mouth. In the dim light from the street lamp I couldn’t be sure it was a mouse. I live in fear that someday he’ll bring me one of Fred’s elves.
We reached the porch and climbed the steps together. He laid a mouse at my feet.
Never thought I’d be happy to see a mouse.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’m not hungry right now, but this will be a lovely snack for later.”
He pretends to believe me when I say that.
I turned to wave at Fred. I couldn’t see him but I knew he was there.
Henry and I went inside and I gave him his evening fix of catnip. While he was thus occupied, I went outside, put his gift into a plastic bag, and tossed it into the trash.
We climbed the stairs together and I put on my purple fleece pajamas. I love my hundred year old house…the authenticity, the wood floors, the ceiling moldings, the natural wood trim, the original windows with wavy glass and wooden frames that don’t completely block the fresh air. That fresh air was getting colder every night. I had to compensate with something warmer than an old T-shirt.
A happily stoned Henry leapt onto the foot of my bed and began purring. The sound could be mistaken for a lawn mower. He’s a big cat.
I turned off the light and settled under the covers. A warm bed, a happy cat. I was drifting into slumber within minutes.
Henry stopped purring, jumped off the bed, and streaked out the door.
My doorbell rang.
Damn.
It was only 8:30, but all my friends knew I went to bed early because I had to get up early.
Besides, Henry wouldn’t react that way to a friend.
I climbed from my warm bed, slipped on the same moccasins I’d worn to visit Corey, and went downstairs.
Henry gave me a quick warning glance then returned to staring at the front door. All signs of catnip had disappeared from his gaze. He was sober and ready to repel the invaders.
The doorbell rang again.
I peered through the peephole but didn’t turn on my porch light in case I wanted to pretend I wasn’t home even though my car was parked in the driveway.
The roof of the porch shielded the figure from the street light, but I would have recognized that pale hair and those bulbous boobs in total darkness.
Kathleen.
I reached for the lever to release the deadbolt lock then paused.
A few minutes ago I’d been eager to see her, to question her and expose her guilt.
But I’d assumed Fred would be at that meeting.
If I opened the door, would I be letting a murderer into my house?
I looked down at Henry.
He had no answer for me. He continued to stand at rigid attention and stare at the door as if he could see through it.
I’d let a murderer into my house before. Paula’s ex-husband.
But Fred had been hiding upstairs on that occasion.
However, he seemed to know everything that happened by using his telescopic x-ray vision and/or hidden cameras.
And this could be my opportunity to prove Trent’s ex-wife was a vicious accessory to murder, not the weak, scared woman he believed her to be. If I could get her in jail, she wouldn’t be able to whine herself back into his bed. And she’d probably look horrible in orange. Who doesn’t?
I yanked open the door. “Good evening, Kathleen. What an unexpected pleasure.”
Manners.
Okay, sarcasm. The two are often the same.
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by. I didn’t know you’d be in bed already.”
“I’m no longer in bed.” One would think that was obvious since I was standing in the doorway. “Please come in.” I flipped the light switch to turn on the lamps in the living room.
Henry gave me an Are you crazy? look, growled deep in his throat, and moved aside to allow her entrance.
With Fred spying on us and Henry in guard cat mode, I had nothing to fear from that woman.
“Thank you.”
Should I lock the door so Corey couldn’t come in and shoot me or leave it unlocked in case Fred needed to come in and rescue me?
Fred could break down the door if necessary.
I locked it.
“Plea
se have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? Wine? Coke?” A little antifreeze?
“A glass of wine.” She sat on one end of the sofa.
Henry stretched out on the other end and pretended to be a casual observer.
I went to the kitchen and took down two of my best mismatched wine glasses.
I have very high standards when it comes to chocolate. Not so much when it comes to wine.
I poured a couple of inches of white wine from a box into each glass then returned to the living room and handed the chipped one to her. It was just a small chip on the base of the stem. Not like she’d cut her lip drinking. Her finger, maybe.
That would not only be fun to watch, I’d have a sample of her DNA in case we needed it for evidence later.
I sat in my rose-colored recliner which, I thought, blended nicely with my purple fleece pajamas. Kathleen perched exactly in the middle of a large orange flower on the back of my sofa. I was right. The color didn’t flatter her at all.
She sipped her wine, flinched, but smiled and crossed one slender leg with high-heeled black boot over the other. “You and I need to have a talk, woman to woman, about Adam.”
I sipped my wine. It wasn’t as good as Fred’s, but it was better than the flat Coke I’d had at the Pleasant Grove Manor.
“What would you like to know about Trent?” I asked.
She blinked a couple of times. The breeze from her false eyelashes probably blew a few more leaves off the birch tree in my front yard. Might have even been strong enough to take a few off the oak. “Why do you call him by his last name?”
“Why do you call him by his first name?”
She hesitated and blinked again. More leaves for Fred’s elves to dispose of. “It’s what people do. Never mind. It doesn’t matter. I haven’t decided what to do about him yet. You still have a chance.”
“Is that right?” What was she up to?
She had another sip of wine, uncrossed her legs and leaned forward.
I realized I was also leaning forward, waiting to hear what she had to say. I should have brought my cell phone and recorded the conversation. But Fred was probably getting every word on one of his devices.
I reversed my posture, crossed my pajama-clad legs and tried to look unconcerned.
Her eyes narrowed.
So did Henry’s.
“Who’s your tall friend with the white hair, glasses, and English accent?”
The tall with white hair and glasses part sounded familiar, but not the English accent. Fred’s accent definitely wasn’t Midwestern but I’d never considered it English.
Apparently Corey did.
I’d have to think about that.
“No idea what you’re talking about.” Yes, it was a lie, but she started it when she said she was in the neighborhood and just dropped by.
She set her chipped wine glass carefully on an unchipped portion of mosaic tiles on my vintage garage sale coffee table. “Corey’s an idiot. When he bragged to me about being interviewed by the Society of Poets and Pirates, I knew somebody was sucking up to his giant ego. Jeff might have qualified for a pirate, but his poetry was lousy.”
Interesting. Jeff had been a poet and Fred had known that. He might have even been a good poet. I trusted Kathleen’s taste in poetry as much I trusted her honesty…slightly less than I trusted the man on TV who wanted to sell me the latest miracle gadget for only $19.99 then throw in another one absolutely free, just pay postage and handling.
“What do you consider good poetry?” I asked. “I’ve always liked T.S. Eliot and Ezra Pound. Maya Angelou, of course.”
She gaped at me for a moment. Obviously she’d never heard of any of those people. She retrieved her glass and drained the contents.
I had her off balance. That was a good start.
“Also Edgar Allan Poe. Everybody knows The Raven but I think Ulalume is one of his best. We don’t often hear about that one. What do you think?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Poetry and your husband. What kind of poetry did he write?”
“I have no idea and I don’t care.”
“Then let’s change the subject and talk about something we both know, the identity of the man who killed your husband. Would you like another glass of wine?” Getting her drunk couldn’t hurt. In vino veritas.
“No, I don’t want any more wine.” She curled her upper lip. “It’s horrible.”
“The more you drink, the better it gets.”
I took her glass to the kitchen, refilled it, and set in on the table in front of her. She might not drink it. Or she might.
She folded her arms and glared at me. “Let’s talk about the red-headed woman who was with the English guy, pumping Corey for information. I showed him a picture of you and he identified you as that woman.”
Busted.
I looked at Henry. His gaze sent me a message. Told you not to let her in.
I needed to get back in control of the conversation.
I put my glass of wine on the table beside hers, lifted my chin, and folded my arms, imitating her aggressive posture. “Where did you get a picture of me?”
That stopped her momentarily.
“Why did Corey tell you about the interview?” I demanded.
She opened her mouth to speak but I was ready for her.
“Oh, that’s right, because you’re lovers. Yeah, he bragged about that. He’s proud of having an affair with a hot chick. Those are his words, not mine.”
Yes, it was another lie, but the cops lie to suspects, pretend they know more than they actually do, in order to get a confession. If they can do it, I can do it.
Her eyes narrowed to slits. She clenched her fists and breathed smoke and fire from her nose. Maybe not literally but she would have if she could have.
Fred would surely break down the door and rush in to save me before that happened.
I leaned closer. “You and Corey conspired to kill your husband and collect the insurance.”
She shot to her feet.
I shot to mine.
Henry stretched and rose gracefully to his feet.
Fred must be waiting to get her full confession.
“You offered to share the insurance money,” I accused, “if he’d kill your husband while you were at Trent’s setting up an alibi.” I shifted my balance to my left foot, ready to run. My legs were longer than hers and she had on those stiletto heels. I was pretty sure I could outrun her.
She reached down and snatched up her designer handbag. Damn! I couldn’t outrun a bullet.
Henry snarled. The hair on his back bristled.
I shifted in the other direction in case I had to save my cat. He couldn’t outrun a bullet either. Only Fred could do that.
She glared at me for a long moment. “You are one crazy bitch. You need to be careful or your mouth could get you in big trouble.” She opened her purse and reached inside.
For a gun? For the knife Corey used to kill Ransom?
“You need to leave.” I pointed a shaky arm toward the door. “The cops are on their way.”
“I hope you’re not a poker player. You don’t know the first thing about bluffing.” She withdrew her hand from her purse.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
She pointed the car keys at me.
Car keys surrounded by long red fingernails.
Not a gun or a knife.
My heart settled back into place.
“You keep messing with me, and I’ll take Adam away from you so fast your head will spin.”
Henry growled, the sound low and deep in his throat.
Kathleen looked at him then back to me, dismissing him as only a cat. “You don’t have any idea who you’re dealing with.”
“Actually, I do, Kathy Ann Johnson.”
The blood rushed to her face. It wasn’t attractive against her red blouse. “You just sealed the deal. Adam is mine.”
“Henry! Attack!” I commanded.
He hissed and bared his fangs.
She stepped away. “If that animal touches me, I’ll sue you for everything you own.”
She’d be pretty disappointed with that settlement. “Gonna use Corey for your lawyer?”
She strode across the room to the door and struggled for a moment with the deadbolt.
“Need some help?” I offered.
She got the door open and stalked out then slammed it behind her.
I followed, opened the front door and looked out in time to see her white Lexus speed away.
I grabbed my purse and keys from the table beside the door. I had to know where she was going.
I did not for one minute think she could take Trent away from me.
But maybe I thought about it for half a minute.
Long enough that I wanted to be sure she wasn’t going to his apartment.
“Guard the place!” I yelled to Henry then ran through a cold drizzle to my car. That woman had a head start, but the slick roads might slow her down whereas I could handle them. My car may be old and dented with a few things that don’t work, but it has great tires.
I sped after her, slid around the corner, and spotted a white car a couple of blocks ahead. Since it was the only white car…the only car…in the area, she was pretty easy to find.
I slowed. By that same logic, she’d be able to spot me. Besides, I didn’t want a cop to pull me over and tell Trent I’d been speeding through the night in my purple pajamas.
She pulled onto the highway, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Trent lived on the other side of Pleasant Grove. She wasn’t going to his place, but she wasn’t heading for the hotel where she and Corey were both registered either.
I should turn around and go back home. Kathleen was from this area. She might be going to visit an old friend.
Nah. Women like Kathleen didn’t have friends.
Maybe it was an old lover.
Or a new lover.
I’d come this far. I might as well see which exit she’d take off the freeway.
She drove a little over five miles then exited into an upper middle class residential area in Lee’s Summit.
I followed.
She continued for a few blocks before she pulled into a driveway.
I eased up next to the curb a few houses away and turned off my lights.
Deadly Chocolate Addiction (Death by Chocolate Book 6) Page 7
