Georgia walked to the massive window which overlooked downtown Hillside. “I arrived in this town, determined to set out an empire in the Summers name. I won’t let anything, or anyone stand in my way.”
She spun to face them again, and the chiffon drifted around her ankles.
“Amy’s right, Miss Summers. We’re not here to talk about the murder,” Heather said. Though, Amy had been right about a lot of things with regards to Georgia Summers.
“Then what is it? Quickly, now,” Georgia said.
“We’ve come to talk about Halloween decorations.”
Silence rippled through the room. A tangible atmosphere of tension embraced Heather and forced her back against the cold leather of her seat.
“What?”
“We have it on good authority that you lent Sarah Kenny Halloween decorations. Is this true?”
“So what if I did?” Georgia asked, then burst out laughing. “They’re just decorations.”
“Why? You hated Sarah. You wanted to see her fail,” Heather said. “Why help her?”
“I didn’t hate Sarah,” Georgia snapped, and stroked trembling fingers over the material of her gown. “I pitied her. But I wasn’t trying to help with the decorations.”
“Then why give them to her?”
“Because they were tacky. The Sarah Kenny I knew would’ve died at the sight of them.”
“Very poor choice of words,” Amy muttered.
Georgia tittered behind her palm. “The maid put them up in the house. I arrived early to see her reaction. Oh, she hated it them, but it was too late. The guests had already started arriving, so she couldn’t take them down.”
Heather rose from her seat. “So, you did it to embarrass her.”
“Of course,” Georgia replied, and laughed again. “Oh, I know she’s dead, now, but at the time it was hilarious. I mean, the woman prided herself on her hosting skills.”
Was there a sensitivity chip missing in this woman?
Amy growled under her breath. Neither socialite had been particularly polite, but Georgia took toe-curling rudeness to a new level.
“Are you done?” Georgia asked, and checked the clock again. “I have a meeting with a potential client in a few moments. One who has a worthwhile investment.”
“One last thing, Miss Summers,” Heather said.
“What?”
“The pumpkin decorations which you gave to Myra Jackson are the very same ones upon which Sarah Kenny chocked to death,” Heather said. “Think about that the next time you have a giggle fest over embarrassing your dead acquaintance.”
Georgia Summer’s jaw dropped. She shuddered a gasp, then swayed from side-to-side.
“Have a good day,” Amy said, then launched herself to her feet.
Together, the bestie’s walked out of the office and down the hall. Heather couldn’t shake the nasty vibe Miss Summers’ had given off in the last few minutes of the conversation.
She’d cared nothing for Sarah Kenny – that much was plain.
“Do you think she, did it?” Amy asked.
“I can’t say,” Heather replied. “There’s just not enough evidence to incriminate her. What I’d really like to do, is get hold of Mr. Kenny and find out his involvement with Georgia.”
“Why didn’t you ask her?” Amy asked, then shook her head. “Stupid question. She’d never have told you a thing. Horrible woman.”
“Indeed,” Heather said. “Want to come over tonight for movies and popcorn? We can do some research after Lilly’s gone to bed.”
“You don’t even gotta ask,” Amy replied.
Chapter 13
The popcorn bowl stood empty, but Amy still scraped at the kernels at the bottom of the bowl. Lilly snored on the sofa, then turned over and buried her face in the cushion. Heather paused the movie, got up and hurried to the girl’s side.
She lifted a blanket from the back of the sofa and laid over Lilly. Dave hopped up beside her and snuggled against her back.
“Another successful movie night,” Amy said, then sat back with a sigh. “We should’ve made more popcorn, though.”
“Of course, you would say that,” Heather replied, and chuckled.
She walked back to her side of the room, then bent and grabbed her laptop off the coffee table. “So,” she said, “what do you say? A little research?”
“Sure,” Amy replied.
“I dunno, Ames, I really need some help working on this one. Wait, I say that every time, don’t I?”
Amy giggled, but scooted off the sofa anyway, and hurried over to Heather. They sat down together, and Heather shifted the laptop closer.
“So, what’s the deal?” Amy whispered, and glanced at Lilly.
The girl snorted in her sleep, scratched her ear, then quieted.
“Once again, there’s evidence, but nothing that can tie anyone to the crime scene for certain.”
“Nothing DNA or Fingerprint based?” Amy asked, and wiped her buttery fingers on a napkin.
“Nope, nothing. The party had loads of guests,” Heather said, “so it would be difficult to isolate who was where, when and why.”
“True,” Amy said and bobbed her chin up and down.
“So, let’s go over what we know,” Heather said. “Where to start, hmmm?”
“The creepy teenage daughter,” Amy replied, and shuddered. She rubbed her arms and glanced back at the curtains. “Man, she really freaked me out.”
“Yeah.” Heather opened up a word document and typed Tatiana Kenny at the top of the page. “She was at the party in the very beginning, and camera footage has her in her bedroom at the time of the murder. Or so it seems.”
“Seems?”
“Yeah. Tatiana’s bedroom was on the ground floor.” Heather made the appropriate notes next to the teenager’s name, then pressed enter twice, and typed James Little. “Which is why her boyfriend left shoeprints in the flower bed beneath her window.”
“Wait, so Tatiana called James over, right?” Amy asked, and grabbed a cushion from the corner of the sofa. She plumped it in her lap, then wriggled her nose.
“Right.”
“But when he got there, she wasn’t there. Or the cops arrived or something?”
Heather wrote down the facts next to the boy’s name and nodded along with Amy’s rhetoric. “Yeah, he said he ran off. That puts him at the scene after the murder, but that’s just his word. We don’t have rock solid evidence of the timing of his arrival. He could’ve been there at the time of the murder.”
“But,” Amy said, “if he wasn’t invited he would’ve had to have been inside the party to sneak up on Sarah.”
“Not necessarily. The balcony had a staircase which led down into the garden,” Heather replied. “And James certainly wasn’t a Sarah Kenny fan.”
“Neither was, well, anyone in Hillside from what I’ve heard,” Amy replied. “All right. Who’s next?”
Heather typed Georgia Summers next. “Your favorite,” she replied.
“Ugh.” Amy rolled her eyes and kneaded the cushion. “She had a motive to murder Sarah, right? They hated each other.”
“Uh huh, but that’s not enough motive. Even if Georgia made an untoward comment during the argument and was the one who provided the tacky decorations, it still doesn’t mean –”
Lilly yawned and sat upright. “Hey! What happened to the movie?” She asked, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I was totally watching it.”
“You fell asleep, hon,” Heather said. She barely managed to keep the mirth from her tone. Lilly’s hair stuck up at odd ends at the back of her head. “And it’s way past your bed time. Off to bed, you go.”
Lilly tumbled off the sofa and stretched. “Goodnight Amy. Night mom,” she said. She froze, mid-stretch, her arms in the air above her head. “Uh, I mean, goodnight, uh.”
“Goodnight, my child,” Heather said, and beamed at her.
Lilly blushed and hurried from the room. Her footsteps darted upstairs, and a door cl
icked shut a few seconds later.
“Oh my gosh,” Amy said. “I think my heart just grew three sizes.”
“I didn’t expect that. I hoped, but I didn’t expect,” Heather said and dabbed tears from the corners of her eyes. “I mean, it’s only been a few weeks.”
Amy rested her head on Heather’s shoulder. “You deserve all the love in the world, Mrs. Shepherd.”
“Thanks, Ames.”
Amy yawned and pressed her fist to her mouth. “Now,” she said, “back to the matter at hand. Georgia Summers is a creep.”
“Yeah,” Heather replied, and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yeah, but we don’t know whether she’s a murderous creep or not.”
“I guess,” Amy said. “I just wish we knew more about her. I know there’s something interesting about her, something relevant. But I figure you’d get to the bottom of that before I did.” Amy yawned again. “Ugh, I’m not making any sense. I’m too tired.”
Heather tapped her fingers on the keys but didn’t type anything besides Georgia Summers’ name. “You’re right, Ames. We’re too tired for a research session tonight.”
But it wasn’t a total waste. Georgia did interest her too. If only she could find out more about the woman’s motives.
Or rather, about her relationships.
“I wonder when Kenneth Kenny will be back in Hillside? I bet he could give us some insight into –”
Amy snored, loudly. A genuine snore, instead of a ‘you’re boring me to death, Heather’ one.
Heather chuckled, then shifted her friend aside. Amy flopped onto the sofa and cuddled into the cushion, then let out another long, snore.
Heather slapped her laptop lid shut. She stared at the TV for a while, but nothing came to her, except the Kenny name.
The husband might be the missing link.
Chapter 14
Heather hadn’t written Myra Jackson’s name on her list of suspects. She’d clean forgotten about the suspicious, wondering maid at the back of the Kenny mansion.
Heather sat at her desk in Donut Delights and stared at the screen of her laptop.
“Myra Jackson,” she said and typed the letters to match the words. Ryan had interviewed the maid, but nothing had come of it.
Could Myra be involved?
“Ugh,” Heather said and wiped her eyes with the heels of her palms. She’d spent the entirety of last night stressing out about the case.
They had a set of footprints, no camera footage, a wandering maid and a socialite who might or might not have been involved in an extramarital affair with the victim’s husband.
“Missing husband,” Heather muttered. She’d left countless messages at the Kenny residence, but none had been answers, and Ryan said that the mysterious Mr. Kenny hadn’t stopped by the police station either.
Could Kenny have been involved?
The mystery had built to the point of no return. She had to know who’d done it and why.
“What bothers me the most,” Heather whispered. “Is the mystery meeting in the woods between Tatiana and James. Why? Why did they meet? What is their little plan?”
Perhaps, if she phoned James’ mother, she could get some more details about the kid. But, ugh, she didn’t want to bother an ill woman. Mrs. Little probably had enough worries of her own.
Shouts broke out from the other side of her office door. Amy’s voice screeched in the interior of Donut Delights. “What are you doing?!”
The office door slammed inward, and a grey-haired man in a fancy suit marched into Heather Shepherd’s office like he owned the place.
“You,” he grunted, in a deep baritone.
Heather rose from her seat and planted her knuckles on her desk. “Is there a reason you’ve just barged into my private office, sir?”
“I tried to stop him, Heather,” Amy yelped, from behind the counter.
The man stepped into the room and slammed the door shut in her face.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Unless, you want me to call my very capable husband, Detective Shepherd.”
“I have no interest in mincing words with you, woman,” the man said. “Where is she? You tell me right now what you’ve done with her.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Heather asked, and opened the top drawer of her desk. The Taser peeked out at her. The black plastic promised safety when nothing else could.
“My daughter, Tatiana. She’s gone.”
“Tatiana,” Heather said.
“Yes,” the man hissed.
“You’re Kenneth Kenny?” Heather asked. “Figures. Why do you think I have anything to do with your daughter’s disappearance?”
“Because she left a note talking about the pressures of being pursued by you and your illegitimate police husband idiot.”
Heather took the Taser out of her desk and placed it on top of a pile of paperwork- order sheets, invoices and profit reports, mostly.
Mr. Kenny stared at it, and his mouth quivered. He didn’t speak, though.
“Firstly,” Heather said, “I don’t think you used 'illegitimate' correctly in that sentence. And secondly, I had nothing to do with your daughter’s disappearance.”
Kenneth Kenny deflated bit by bit. His shoulders sagged. His jaw waggled. And finally, he grasped the back of the chair in front of Heather’s desk, spun it around and flopped into it.
“I can’t lose my wife and my daughter in the same week. I just can’t.” He buried his face in his hands.
“I want to help you find your daughter, Mr. Kenny, but first, I’m going to need you to answer a few questions for me.” Heather sat down, as well, then closed her laptop.
Kenneth dropped his hands and looked up at her. “What do you want to know,” he said and sighed. Dark circles ringed his eyes. The cotton lapel of his shirt rumpled on the right corner.
“Did you have an affair with Georgia Summers?”
“What? No! I despised the woman, for heaven’s sake. She was a good business partner, but that’s it. I loved my wife, even if she did have a certain temperament.”
That was one way of putting it.
“And your daughter. Did you get on with her?”
“I did, yes,” he replied.
“But your wife didn’t?” Heather asked.
Kenny’s bottom lip trembled. He looked to the left and then to the right. Finally, he met her gaze. “No. They hated each other. I blame myself.”
“Why?”
“Because Sarah wasn’t Tatiana’s mother. The girl found out a week ago. They’d never really enjoyed each other’s company, and this hammered the last nail in the coffin.”
Pieces of information collided in Heather’s head.
The lack of sadness. The determination to garner James’ attention and the disrespect for his mother’s illness. But was it enough? Could that really be an indicator?
“I just don’t want to lose her too,” Kenneth said. “She hated me for hiding the truth from her, but she’s my daughter. She’s my daughter.”
Heather stood to bolt upright. “Mr. Kenny. I’m going to help you find her, but I need you to take me to her room first.”
Kenneth grasped the arms of the chair, then forced himself to stand. He readjusted his red tie. “Fine,” he said. “If you find her.”
“I will,” Heather said, and it wasn’t a lie.
She had to find Tatiana before it was too late.
Chapter 15
Heather strode around in a circle in Tatiana’s room. Everything sat in the right places, apart from the PC. Tatiana had chosen to take that with her on her little adventure.
The frilly sheets on the bed stared at her. As did the lettering on the wall and the image of a rainbow unicorn in a frame on the other. The girl had the weirdest sense of taste Heather had had the displeasure of encountering.
“What do you need?” Kenneth Kenny asked. He readjusted his tie and sniffed for the third time in as many minutes. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Sit on the bed and wait,” Heather replied.
Her gaze wandered from the corner of the room to the dresser, to the bed, and then to the walk-in closet against the wall.
She strode to the dresser, then opened the top drawer. A few balls of socks rolled to the front, but nothing else. Heather slammed it shut again, and tapped her thumb against her bottom lip.
She walked back to the bed, and Kenneth Kenny stared at her.
Heather ignored him and dropped to her knees. She lifted the duvet from the floor and peered under the bed. Several eyeballs stared at her from the gloom.
Heather’s heart nearly beat out of her chest. She pulled back, then fished her cell out of her pocket. She unlocked the screen, then tapped the flashlight app, and lowered herself back to the fluffy, pink carpet.
What on earth were they?
She shone the light toward the eyeballs, then let out a low, chuckle. They weren’t eyeballs after all.
No, they were something much, much worse.
Pumpkin decorations.
Heather scooched under the bed and wriggled on her belly toward them.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing?” Kenneth asked from his spot on the bed.
“Would you relax, sir? Everything is going to be just fine.” Heather said, then sneezed. “Might want to tell Myra to clean under here occasionally, by the way.”
“Tatiana doesn’t allow Myra into her bedroom,” Kenneth replied.
“Figures.” Heather grasped a pumpkin decoration, and her fingers brushed against an odd shape under the carpet.
She frowned and adjusted her flashlight. What was that?
“Secret compartment?” Heather whispered. She worked her fingers around the square bump in the carpet and grasped at a loose corner. She peeled it back, then gasped.
A journal.
“Well, would you look at that,” Heather said.
“What did you find? Tell me at once.” Kenneth hopped up and down on the bed, and the springs squeaked.
“I can see where Tatiana got her patience disposition,” Heather replied.
“Thank you.”
“And her quick wit, for that matter,” Heather said, then scooched backward. She held the journal in one hand. The miniature pumpkins would have to wait.
Spooky Choc Orange Glazed Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 23 Page 5
