"What are you looking for?" Ollie watched, but he kept one hand in his bag of potato chips.
"I don't know, but I'll recognize it when I see it." Lou frowned at the piles. "I've got this itch that tells me we need to look at anything related to the FedEx shipments. After all, why hide FedEx bills from his wife? You'd think a real estate firm would send out stuff all the time. What was so important that Hal Humberger had to have his own account and keep it secret?"
"I'm telling you, these were big items. See? Even if you sent packages overnight, you wouldn't rack up charges like these," said Ollie, stifling a burp.
Rummaging through the papers didn't yield a clue, but Lou wasn't ready to give up yet. "Which FedEx drop-off is closest to the real estate office?" Lou asked his partner, who stunk of liver and onions.
"Buy me a Coke and I'll find out."
Lou traded the can of cola for a slip of paper. "It's one of those fast copy operations. They've got a franchise. Here's the address."
The copy shop was two doors down from Dick's Gas E Bait. Unfortunately, a glance at the clock on the wall told Lou the place would be closed. He wouldn't be able to talk to Dick either because visiting hours were over at the hospital.
Lou’s stomach grumbled and he thought of Skye. What else was new? He thought about Skye almost all the time. It embarrassed him that she occupied so much of his brain. But he hadn't eaten, and Pumpernickel's would be nearly empty at this hour. If she was working, he could enjoy his meal and see what he might learn from her. At least that would be his story. He might also walk her back to The Treasure Chest, since he wanted to make sure that she and Ms. Delgatto were doing okay.
Chances were good that this murderer had his or her own specific reasons to strike Hal down. If that was true, the suspect wasn't a danger to society in general. However, Lou didn't like making an assumption like that. Especially when Skye was involved.
65
Skye set a bowl of matzo ball soup in front of Irving Feldman. "Your sandwich will be ready in a tick," she said. "Soup's hot. Be careful. What brings you to town?"
"S-s-signing paperwork for my mother's estate. How's it going at the store? Lot of w-w-work, huh?"
"Yes," she said with a smile. "A lot of work and a lot of fun. The goal is to be open in time for the Art Fair."
Irving dropped his spoon. It hit the table and clattered to the floor. "Geez, what a klutz I am!"
"No bother." Skye grabbed fresh cutlery from another table. "Here you are."
"That's awfully f-f-fast. Seems like you might be overly optimistic."
"I guess. But MJ, Cara, and I make a good team. We sort of clicked as a trio. You wouldn't believe all we've gotten done."
"H-h-how are you planning to stock the place? I remember when M-m-mother first opened. Took her months to get enough merchandise from vendors. The boxes trickled in for a long time after that."
"We've fixed up a lot of what was there, but you're right. We don't have the time to wait on vendors. We're going on a buying trip Sunday morning, early."
Biting her lip, she stopped. Skye didn't want word getting out that she, MJ, and Cara would be poking around at the flea market. Or that tomorrow the trio would visit thrift shops. Where the goods came from didn't matter. What mattered was their ability to see diamonds in the coal mine, and just as importantly, the talents they employed to transform those rough stones into must-have pieces.
Bobby Gander motioned to Skye from his spot at the counter. He tapped his empty coffee mug with his fork. "Tastes good with this key lime pie."
Skye had just poured him a second cup when a patron in a booth at the far back of Pumpernickel's signaled to her. She excused herself, telling Bobby, "I'll try to keep a better eye on your cup, in case you want more."
By the time Lou arrived, Irving had finished and left. So had Bobby. The big cop moved awkwardly to fold himself into the last booth along the wall.
"Hmmm." Skye's smile invited his to come out of hiding. "Looks to me like a meatloaf, mashed potatoes, corn, and garden salad type of night. Am I right?"
"You know me too well. Put in the order, won't you? Then come on back and keep me company."
As she walked away, he noticed the bounce in her walk. Whatever she was doing over at The Treasure Chest agreed with her. There was a lightness to her step that fairly shouted with joy.
What a long road it had been since that night when Lou had found her huddled on Bucky's floor, covered in blood, with her front teeth knocked out. He'd tried to help her then, but she wasn't ready. Bucky had convinced her that she was worthless. That no man would ever care about her—and that she couldn't make her way in the world without him.
Two months after Lou escorted Bucky to the Martin County Jail, where he was booked on charges of domestic violence, Bucky was back in the interview room again. This time the charge was kiting checks. Bucky claimed that he hadn't written that bad paper. No, not poor Bucky! It was that conniving wife of his, Sarah, who'd done the deed behind his back.
When Ollie Anderson picked up Sarah, she refused to roll over on her husband. Yes, she'd taken the checks to the bank and had them cashed. Ollie pressed the point. Had she written them? Had she known they were fraudulent?
Sarah refused to answer.
She clammed up. Wouldn't say a word. Even after Ollie pointed out that she was facing a stiff sentence, she refused to say anything that would incriminate Bucky.
As Lou watched from behind the two-way window, his stomach took an elevator dive down to his shoes. He was still in his probationary period as a new hire, so he couldn't interview her himself. If he had, perhaps he could have reminded Sarah that he knew how Bucky treated her. That he'd rescued her once, and he'd gladly do it again. But as she sat there silently, he knew she was going down. No way would the judge let her off. Not when the checks had totaled two grand.
She thought she was doing the smart thing. Sarah believed that by keeping her mouth shut, she was being loyal to her husband, Bucky. What she didn't know was that Bucky didn't understand the meaning of loyalty. He didn't deserve a woman like Sarah.
Lou's fists had burned with the urge to go get Bucky and knock some sense into that little twerp. He wanted to yell through the two-way glass, "Your husband set you up, Sarah! Don't fall for this!"
In the end, he could do nothing to save her.
However, Lou did show up at court and listen as the judge handed down the inevitable verdict. Sarah Teafer was sentenced to three months behind bars. The young woman's sorrowful moan hurt Lou deeply. He vowed then and to visit her regularly.
Every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, he'd spend an hour at the Martin County Jail. At first, Sarah had nothing to say. She would stare off into space. He understood. She'd been stunned by the verdict. Bucky had promised her that as a first time offender, she'd be put on probation. His betrayal shocked her, and she didn't feel like trusting another man. Especially a law enforcement official.
Over the course of her jail time, she learned to trust Lou.
Especially after Bucky distanced himself from Sarah, refusing to visit her.
Lou was the only constant in her life. He told Sarah over and over that he'd help her get back on her feet when she got out.
"But no one will hire me as a waitress. That's the only job I've ever had. Look! I don't have any front teeth!" she'd sobbed, cupping her hand over her mouth.
He pushed an appointment card her way. It showed a scheduled visit with a local dentist who would fix her up with dental implants.
"I'll pay you back," she said.
"Don't worry about that," and Lou turned red.
That's how it happened that Lou stood beside Sarah when she went to court for her divorce hearing. In fact, he'd secretly paid a local attorney to represent her—and to say he was doing the job gratis. When the judge asked her if she planned to change her name, Sarah glanced back at Lou. He gave her a low "thumbs up."
"Your Honor, from now on I want to be known as Skye Blue. Because fr
om now on, there's gonna be nothing but blue skies in my life," said the woman formerly known as Sarah Teafer.
So here they were. Skye Blue and Lou, the waitress who had a new smile and the cop who loved her but couldn't bring himself to admit it.
66
After I sent that first email to Cooper, I did not turn off the computer. Instead, I did a bit more poking around, despite the fact I’d already had a long day. The Internet is a seductive alternative universe. A time giver and a time waster. Pinterest is like crack cocaine for adult women. We simply can't get enough of those alluring images. I told myself I was looking for hot new décor ideas. Somehow I went from there to checking out recipes and jewelry projects.
I had completely lost track of time. It was half past eleven at night when Jack pricked up his ears as Detective Murray and Skye walked in through the back door. I cuddled Jack as he sniffed curiously at the big cop.
"Nice watchdog you've got there. You need that security light fixed," Detective Murray said. "Show me where the light bulbs are."
"I'll grab one," Skye volunteered. "MJ bought us a bunch of yellow bug lights. I know where she put them."
Detective Murray followed her with dreamy eyes as she disappeared into the supply closet. I wondered if they realized they loved each other. More importantly, I wondered what kept them at arms' length, because to my mind, they seemed perfectly suited. Her sweet nature balanced his terse manner perfectly. It couldn't have been the age difference, because it wasn't that great.
Jack's little black nose was working overtime, tasting the air. The detective offered the back of his hand for Jack to sniff. The dog was tentative at first, but after an initial hesitation, he shivered with delight and started licking the detective's skin.
"Did you come by to question me?" I asked. "Because I can give you the phone number of my attorney."
"No," he said. "I thought I should stop by and make sure you were okay. That vandalism has me worried. Skye tells me you've had workmen in and out all day."
"That's right."
"Good. It's best if you aren't here alone. I suggest you buy a 'Beware of Dog' sign, too. It's a cheap deterrent. A creep might think twice about hanging around the building."
"Speaking of creeps, any luck on finding the person who threw Jack out of their vehicle?"
"As a matter of fact, we did finally narrow down the license plate. The owner lives in Palm Beach County. Since it's out of our jurisdiction, we're working through the proper channels. But rest assured, I plan to nail his backside to a wall."
Jack pawed the cop's arm as if to say he'd like to be there when Detective Murray found his abuser.
He scratched Jack under his chin. "Hey, little buddy. You deserve better, don't you? Looks to me like you've got a nice home here. Two nice ladies to cater to your every whim. Not bad."
Skye handed the detective a light bulb. He took it and smiled at her. "No rest for the weary, huh?"
"You volunteered."
They bantered like old married people, but they also kept a respectful distance from each other, as if the slightest touch might ignite them. I understood exactly how that felt.
"You have blue paint on your fingers, Cara," said Skye. "Want to show me what you did?"
I stood up, keeping Jack under my arm, and led her to the freshly painted end tables.
"They aren't quite there yet, are they?" I asked. "They're lacking something, but I don't know what."
"The paint is a big improvement, but what do you think they need?" She studied them.
"I stenciled grapevines on the walls of our restaurant. Although grapevines wouldn't work, I bet starfish might."
"Yes!" She shouted. "That would look mah-vel-ous, dah-ling."
I gave her a high-five. "What color?"
"A golden-yellow. I'll pick up a small container tomorrow. Where are you planning to get a stencil?"
"I don't know."
"If you find an image you like online, I'll show you how to turn it into a stencil," Skye said. "We'll have a lot of nice things to sell when we open our doors in two weeks.”
Detective Murray wandered up behind us. He stood with his hands in his pockets staring at the messy sales floor. "The light's changed, and your back door is locked. Did I hear you say two weeks? That's ambitious. I like the new flooring. What's the plan for the walls? You aren't going to leave them like this, are you?"
"I hope to put a coat of paint on them. A soft off-white color to match the tile and brighten up the place."
"You need help?"
"You're running a murder investigation," said Skye. "Wouldn't that take priority?"
"For me, yeah," he said with a shrug, "but we have six teenage boys who need to fulfill their quota of community service. Seems to me that helping a new business get off the ground should qualify. Especially one that’s already suffered through vandalism. I'll tell Officer Dooley to bring them over here first thing tomorrow morning."
"You mean that?" I felt an easing of the tension in my solar plexus. My dream seemed one step closer to coming true. This was really, really going to happen. How sad that Mom and Dad wouldn't be here to share this with me!
"I never say anything I don't mean. But don't get all yippee-skippee on me yet. You get your business license? Because if not, you better."
"Yikes. I'd almost forgotten," and I could have sworn that he winked at me.
67
I didn't rest much that night. I kept tossing and turning in the sleeping bag. At one point, I woke up in a cold sweat. I dreamed that Dom was spray-painting the front of The Treasure Chest, and the words he wrote were unbelievably cruel. He laughed at me while I sat in a jail cell. Next to me was my mother, and she was dying. Then I dreamed that Detective Murray was putting handcuffs on me.
Jack must have had bad dreams, too. I heard him whimpering in his sleep. I finally picked him up and brought him to bed with me. I'd resisted doing that because I worried I'd bump into his leg and cause him pain. But both of us needed the comfort. Once he burrowed down beside me, I finally got some sleep.
I woke up with dark circles under my eyes, and I was tired.
However, my mood brightened when promptly at eight, a polite knocking on the front door signaled the arrival of six teenage boys armed with paint rollers and tarps. The officer who accompanied them couldn't have been more than a couple years older than they.
"Officer Doug Dooley, ma'am. We're here to paint. Detective Murray sent us."
I got them started and put on the coffee while Skye ran out to buy the golden color she thought would make great starfish and a few other supplies, including ten-penny nails for her tin can project. She'd also agreed to buy an assortment of breakfast sandwiches from McDonald's. MJ arrived five minutes later with more cream, a quart of skim milk, sugar, and paper cups. On a second trip from her car, she carried in a toaster oven.
"Good thinking," I said, as she started the coffee machine. The heavenly aroma filled the store.
"I have an old boyfriend who runs an appliance store."
No kidding? Why was I not surprised?
"Could you find us a washer and dryer?" I asked. "Pretty soon I'll be totally out of clean clothes. I'm thinking that we'll need a dishwasher too. I can imagine having guest artists and open houses. Anything that would encourage shoppers to come in regularly. If we do that, it would be cheaper to buy an inexpensive set of dishes and glasses than to keep buying paper products."
"I'm way ahead of you," she said. "I've already ordered a washer and dryer that will fit in that nook by the back door, and a dishwasher. I told Ronnie to sharpen his pencil and give me his best price. Then I convinced him to knock off the delivery fee. He also threw in this toaster oven. The other stuff should be here Monday afternoon, unless you want to cancel."
From her back pocket she withdrew a sales slip and handed it to me. I looked it over.
"Sharpen his pencil? Girlfriend, this man probably isn't making a penny on this order!"
"I promised to
go with him on a dinner cruise of the Jupiter Inlet," she said. "That's all the profit he needed. We'll need to get an electrician to check the wiring first. Don't want to overload the circuits with all these new appliances."
"Could you talk to Bobby about it?" I said. "He told me that he could do the electricity upstairs."
"Really? Huh. That's a new one. When we were married, he'd fix anything as long as electricity wasn't involved. Had a carpenter friend who got himself electrocuted messing around with a ceiling fan. After that, Bobby wouldn't touch anything electrical."
"Maybe I misunderstood him," I said. I was feeling muzzy headed after getting so little sleep.
"Since we're planning on being open in two weeks, I put together a list of everything you need to do to legally run a business in Martin County," MJ said as she handed me a second list. On it was the application for a business license, sales tax forms, and other important tasks.
"Is this what you did for Essie? You are so organized," I said to her back as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
"Pretty much. She was the person with the money and the vision. She also knew more about antiques and collectibles than I'll ever know. But she could get distracted and disorganized. I kept things going, and I handled the paperwork."
MJ paused while stirring the drops of low cal sweetener into her black coffee. "Why are you asking? I thought we went over this yesterday."
"I've been thinking. Could you dig up all the paperwork for the month preceding and following that first stroke she had? Any statements dated that year? If those paintings went missing, I wonder if anything else disappeared."
Holding her coffee cup carefully, she took the chair next to my desk. Her work-a-day outfit of tight jeans and men's shirts tied under the bust now seemed familiar to me, as did the gingham bows in her pigtails. Funny how quickly you develop a comfort level with people.
Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books! Page 87
