“Understandable.” She lifted my glass of ice water to her lips. “So, did you do it?”
“Hey!”
She smiled wildly, crushing a piece of ice between her teeth.
“That isn’t helpful. Paige says Miguel hung out with local kids home from college, specifically one who works here, Mack.”
“Those kids aren’t that much younger than us. Don’t make me feel old.”
“They are kids. If I could be twenty-one again, I’d make some serious alterations.”
“You regret your youth. Is that why you killed him?”
I shot her a droll expression. “Keep it up, beach ball, and I’m going to take your water away.”
“Mean. So we’re here chasing hunches and interrogating co-eds.”
“Exactly.” I set my forearms on the table and it wiggled. “Also, Detective Oliver confirmed Miguel wasn’t his real name, so I thought we could ask the staff some questions and see if anyone has any information that might tell me why he went by an alias or what he was doing at my shop last night.” I readjusted my arms and the table wobbled again.
“Fun.” Her wide, conspiratorial smile warmed me. “Do you have a plan of attack or is this a free-for-all?”
“Planned attack.” I flipped the table cloth up and located the issue. Two bolts holding the nearest table leg were barely hanging on. “The best way to solve a problem is by working out from the center. In this case, Miguel’s the center, so I need to know everything I can about him and follow leads from there.” I pulled a compact multipurpose tool from my purse and cocked it open to the screwdriver attachment.
“Are you fixing the table?”
“It’s unstable.” I cranked the tool until it didn’t budge, then gave the table a shake. “There.” I dropped the cloth and tossed the world’s handiest gadget back in my purse.
“You should leave a bill for that.”
I dusted my palms. “I think we can figure this thing out before the detective. Tater’s pulling my funding until my name’s cleared.”
The waitress arrived with menus. Scarlet chose grilled chicken. I ordered a strawberry and pecan salad, light vinaigrette, and a pitcher of water.
The waitress smiled. “Of course. Can I get you anything else?”
Scarlet smoothed the tablecloth. “Yes. I have a question. Have you worked here long?”
The waitress beamed. “Almost a year.”
Scarlet’s smile grew. “Did you know Miguel Sanchez?”
“Yes.” Her smile collapsed, and her gaze darted to me.
Silly of me to think the rumors of a local murderess hadn’t made it this far.
“Miguel came to a lot of after parties. He’s a really nice guy.” She clamped her eyes shut. “Was. He was a really nice guy.” When she reopened her lids, both eyes were heavy with crocodile tears.
I held back an eye roll. “Were you two close?”
Her head bobbed. “Oh, of course.”
Doubtful. “What’s an after party? Like after a concert?”
She screwed her face into a knot. “No. Like, after closing. We stay late to clean up and hang out.”
I inventoried the room. Most of the waitstaff looked her age. Early twenties. It made sense that they’d hang out after hours, probably to eat any unsold food and make up for lost tips with free drinks from the bar.
Scarlet tapped a fingernail against her glass. “I heard there were some thefts here recently. Is that true?”
The waitress rocked back on her heels. “A few.”
I gawked. Scarlet had heard that too? Sometimes I loved the Garden District grapevine. She was on a roll. I got comfortable and let her work.
“Would you say the thefts began after Miguel came to town?” Scarlet was in takedown mode. No one got away with anything when she was like this.
The waitress blanched. “Most of those missing things were probably just lost. Dropped in the lot or somewhere else. This is a winery in New Orleans. Plenty of people leave here half crocked.”
The over-fifty crowd cluttering the tables didn’t strike me as the sort to go anywhere half crocked. The Barrel Room in Uptown wasn’t exactly a nightclub on Bourbon Street. The ambience was pure swank, and the location was premiere. Uptown was high rent, located upriver from the Garden District, and speckled with plenty of chic shops and residents.
Scarlet dismissed her with a smile. “I’m sure you’re right. Thanks for your time.”
“’Kay.”
I folded my hands on the table as the waitress turned and ghosted away. “Nice work. How’d you know there were thefts here?”
Scarlet dipped her head magnanimously. “I didn’t. I just figured if that guy was a thief and he hung out here, probably he took something. What’d you think of her answers?”
“I think she likes the attention Miguel’s murder brings her, but she’s lying about him. He was rude and demeaning. How could everyone like him? If he was Mr. Congeniality, why would he have been obnoxious to me for no reason?”
“What do you mean?”
“He came in yesterday, skulked around, taunted me, bought nothing, and left. Who does that?”
“Scary.”
I shook my head. “He was weird. Mrs. Neidermeyer called him a derelict.”
Scarlet smiled. “I would’ve loved to have seen Mrs. Neidermeyer’s face.”
“She was shockingly poised.”
“Well, color me impressed. New subject.”
“Agreed.”
“Carter’s brother’s back in town.”
“Chase?”
She nodded. A coy grin smeared over her face.
“Don’t.” Yes, I’d admitted to thinking he was gorgeous ten years ago, but we weren’t in high school anymore, and I had bigger issues to deal with.
“Fine, but he asked about you.”
“What happened with him and Courtney? I heard they were engaged.” Before he met Courtney, I was a sophisticated senior and he was a lowly sophomore. It would never have worked between us. He and Courtney were a much better match.
Scarlet’s expression softened. “You’re not the only one who can escape a snare. Her dad’s firm went belly up, and they planned to save the family fortune by marrying her into another one.”
“Ew.” Maybe we had one thing in common—we fell for jerks.
“Yep.”
The waitress returned with our meals and the check.
I dug in. “Whoever made this salad is an angel. I think it came directly from heaven.”
“I’m not eating salad in heaven. Calories had better not count there.” She sipped her water and scanned the room. “Ooh la la. I swear that man looks better every time I see him.”
I followed her gaze to a stool at the bar. “Ugh.”
Detective Oliver raised a glass in our direction and winked. He actually winked.
“Don’t look at him.” I clucked my tongue and impaled a lettuce leaf. “He’s following me. I should’ve known.” Get your own leads, buddy. I turned my attention back to Scarlet. “How often do you see him?”
“He turns up from time to time at local functions, fundraisers, luncheons.” She circled her fork in the air as she spoke. “I wouldn’t mind it if he followed me a while.”
I frowned. “Stop it.”
“Well, I’m married, not dead. Have you looked at him?”
Yes. “No.”
“Liar.” She sliced her chicken with more dutiful care than necessary. “Well, you wouldn’t regret the effort. He has the prettiest green eyes.”
“They’re blue.” I froze. Busted. “Fine. I’ve looked, but it’s not like I had a choice. He’s trying to pin me for murder. You know what else? He asked some really nosy questions and called me ‘kitten.’”
Scarlet gloated with an open-mouthed smile. “What sort of questions?”
I deepened my voice to mimic Detective Oliver. “‘Why did you leave Arlington to open a pet store?’ He makes it sound like I sell stray cats to questionable restaurants.�
��
“Everyone loves your work.”
I chomped on my salad. “See? What does he know? Maybe I left Virginia because I had an awful, terrible, very bad experience there. Maybe Pete’s cheating was my way out, and I wanted a fresh start. Am I not allowed a fresh start?”
“Did you tell him about Pete?”
I stuffed my mouth with strawberry slices and said nothing.
“I didn’t think so. He’s single, you know.”
“Shocker.”
Her satisfied expression irritated me.
“So what do you want me to tell Chase?” she asked. “He could help take your mind off the drama.”
A shadow fell over our table. “Evening, ladies.”
I choked. Water trickled from the sides of my mouth. Detective Oliver stood at the end of the table looking tall and inexcusably smug. “Everything okay over here?”
I dabbed the tablecloth with my napkin and wiped my mouth. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“I’m just checking in. Sounds like you’re getting set up for a date. Anyone I know?” The intensity in his stare made me squirm.
How did he do that?
Scarlet batted her eyes. “My husband’s brother. Would you care to join us?”
Detective Oliver turned to me. “I can’t tonight, but thank you.”
She lifted her hand to him. “Nice to see you, Jack. I’ll bet you didn’t know Lacy’s my best friend.”
He shook her hand, then offered me his.
I snapped my attention to his scrutinizing eyes. “You accused me of murder last night.”
He braced giant hands over narrow hips. The move created a gap between his jacket and shirt, revealing the shiny detective badge on his belt and sidearm at the ready. “I believe I asked you if you killed him. Politely, too, if memory serves me.”
“It does not.”
“Are you sure you can’t join us?” Scarlet repeated. I glared at her.
“Not tonight.”
I didn’t like his tone, as if another night was an option. “What were you hoping to accomplish by following me here?”
“I’m here to ask a few questions and pick up dinner. Seems odd for an innocent person to think I followed her.”
I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. “You’re doing it again.”
He feigned innocence.
I looked to Scarlet for help. “Did you hear him? He thinks I’m a killer.”
Detective Oliver rubbed his jawline. “Any particular reason you chose this restaurant for dinner tonight?”
“Yes.”
“You want to expound on that for me?”
“Not really.”
The waitress sauntered up to Detective Oliver and wetted her lips. “Anything I can do for you, Detective?”
“Nah. I’m just saying hello.”
She dragged her gaze from him to me. “I thought you’d want to know a few of Miguel’s friends are staying late tonight. If you want to hang back and talk with them, they’ll be here after we close.”
Detective Oliver’s jaw clenched and popped. He slid a sarcastic look my way.
Scarlet smiled. “I can’t seem to stay awake past nine. I’m out, but maybe the two of you . . .” She motioned at the detective and me.
The waitress perked up. “You’re welcome anytime, Jack.” She walked away with a swing in her hips.
I chuckled. “Jack? You and that very young, half-your-age waitress are on a first-name basis?”
He scowled. “Yes. It’s normal. Do you ask people to call you Doctor Crocker?”
I returned his sarcastic look. “No. I’m not a doctor.”
“But if you were, you’d expect that? Figures.”
“Hey.” My fingers curled on my lap. “I didn’t say that.”
He tipped an invisible hat in Scarlet’s direction. “Nice to see you again.” He shook his head at me. “Do us both a favor and go home tonight, kitten. Poking around in my investigation will only get you into trouble.”
I swiveled in my seat and glared directly at him. “You’d have to be doing an investigation for me to poke it. So far, you’re just harassing the victim. Me.”
He lumbered to the cashier station and shoved a toothpick between his lips.
From my vantage point, he seemed to be smiling.
Scarlet sighed.
I gawked at the swooning woman across from me. “Stop it. None of that. He’s the enemy.”
“If you’re right, the enemy just bought our dinner.”
I searched the table, my lap, and the floor. The bill had disappeared. “Dang it.” Now I owed him a thank-you. “I wish he’d stop stalking me and solve this murder before I’m out of business.”
Scarlet levered her body from the chair with a grunt. “You should tell him that. Then call me with the details.” She waddled off in the direction of the ladies’ room.
I headed toward the cashier to complain, but Detective Oliver was long gone.
Chapter Five
Furry Godmother’s secret to longevity: Avoid heat stroke, matchmaking, and retired socialites.
After dinner, I paid my dad an impromptu visit at his office. The big, white barn behind my parents’ house had been there nearly a century. I was twenty years younger in its presence. I’d grown up behind those walls, playing hide-and-seek with Scarlet, mending local pets with Dad, and later rolling in the hayloft with tourists, bad boys, and anyone else my mom was sure to hate.
Soft, yellow light illuminated the window above Dad’s office sign. Dr. Crocker, VMD. I crossed the lawn barefoot, enjoying the sensation of warm grass against the soles of tired feet.
I let myself in with a flourish, sandals dangling from my fingertips. “Working late again, Dr. Crocker? You’re making the rest of us look bad, you know.”
He leaned over a small tan-and-black pug puppy, stethoscope pressed to the little guy’s chest. “What can I say? It’s nice to be needed.”
“You’re always needed.”
“Well, thank you for saying so, sweetie. I’d like you to meet Dudley. Dudley, this is my baby girl, Lacy Marie.”
I crossed the room to kiss Dad’s cheek and get my hands on the chubby puppy. “Hi, Dad. Hi, Dudley.” I set my sandals aside and rubbed Dudley’s head. My voice slipped straight to baby talk. “What’s the matter with you, little cutie patootie?” I lowered my face to Dudley’s and rubbed his neck and ears. “What could be wrong with a little guy as sweet as you? Huh?”
Dad pulled a treat from the pocket of his white lab coat and palmed it for Dudley’s inspection. “Mr. Fisher says Dudley isn’t keeping anything down and he’s lethargic.”
Dudley sniffed, uninterested in the offering.
Dad now worked his appraising eyes over me. “How about you? How are you feeling?”
Like I was born under a black cloud. “Great.” I scooped Dudley into my arms and cradled him against my chest. “Did you check for worms?” I fingered through his short fur. No signs of fleas or ticks. “Is he an indoor baby or an outdoor baby?”
“Indoor.” Dad flashed a light into Dudley’s eyes. “Lives in Uptown with Mr. and Mrs. Fisher. No kids. No other pets.”
“House plants? Maybe mild poisoning?”
A man in plaid pants and a Mr. Rogers sweater appeared in the doorway. “No plants indoors, though we keep a garden out back and spend plenty of time in it.”
Dad cleared his throat and waved the man in. “Mr. Fisher, this is my daughter, Lacy.”
“Hello.” I cuddled Dudley. “What do you grow in your garden? Do you use pesticides?”
Mr. Fisher looked puzzled. “We grow peppers, tomatoes, that sort of thing. No pesticides. Are you a veterinarian also?”
“Oh. No. Um.” I glanced at Dad. “I’m so sorry.” I set Dudley back on the table. “I stopped to see my dad and this little sweetie was here, so I helped myself to him for a minute. I should go wait in the house.”
Dad squeezed my hand. “No, no. Lacy’s quick as a whip. She grew up at my ank
les, watching every move I made in here, and she’s a natural with animals. I’ve never seen one who didn’t take to her immediately or vice versa.”
“Oh.” Mr. Fisher’s face brightened. “You’re two of a kind, then. You must be proud.”
“I am.”
I needled Dad with an elbow. “It’s in the blood.”
Mr. Fisher nodded approvingly. “Do you work with animals also?”
Heat crept over my cheeks. This was the part where half the people in town thought I was crazy and the rest assumed narcotics. “I own Furry Godmother, the pet boutique and organic treat bakery on Magazine Street.”
His gaze ran briefly to my dad before returning to me. “Are you happy?”
“Absolutely.” A strange sense of pride curled though me, and the truth of that word settled into my spine. “I am.”
Dad peeked at me over the wire frame of his glasses. “Mr. Fisher and his wife are psychologists. They opened a practice in Uptown.”
“Oh.” The word dragged into multiple syllables on my tongue. Psychologists. I cringed. He probably thought I sounded nuts, but I was happy. Happy counted. Why did I care what Mr. Fisher thought?
The men stared at me. I needed to say something. What was the question? “A private practice? That must be so interesting.”
“Not as much as you’d think. People spend entirely too much time worried about nonsense, things that may never happen and others they have no control over. It’s exhausting.”
I knew the feeling.
Mr. Fisher scooped Dudley off the table and cooed into his ear. “Maybe we should stop by Furry Godmother tomorrow and get you a sweater like Daddy’s so we can be matchers.”
I lifted my gaze to Dad’s. “I’d be happy to have you come by, but he should skip the sweater. A pug in Louisiana needs lots of water and a fan. It’s ninety-five degrees today. Are you hot in that cardigan?”
“Heavens no. Poor circulation. You’ll understand when you get older.”
“You get chilled easily? Do you keep the house warm? Ever use the air conditioning?”
“Never. My wife and I enjoy the heat. The temperatures are part of what drew us here. We spend as much time outside as possible. Our old bones don’t hold the warmth in for long.”
Cat Got Your Diamonds Page 6
