by Diane Bator
He sat in his car, blew out a breath and wondered where to start looking. The red-haired woman walked out of Java Jo’s and down the street to unlock the door to the bookstore. The elusive Katie Mullins had made a brief appearance.
“Interesting.” He opened the door to follow her but his phone jostled his pocket.
“I have a list of all the women at the Maddox party so I can match it to the arrest list,” Bobby said. “Maybe we missed someone who got away and killed Dunnsforth.”
“The only person missing was Paulina. The others were still there.” He scribbled a note on the folder next to him. “As far as blonde women, there was Paulina, Margaret Maddox, Heather Lewis-Dunnsforth, and two girls Roland brought. I doubt either of them had a reason to kill him.”
“Works for me. I’ll recruit someone to split the list with. How’s Ray?”
“He already hates the seniors’ place. It smells and he knows everyone there.”
“That’s Ray.” Bobby laughed. “I’ll stop by next time I’m in town. We checked a couple leads, but nothing stuck out.”
“Anything from the lab?”
“No. We’ll search Paulina’s apartment. With her as a missing person of interest, I want to get as much as we can before she reappears. We did hear from her bank manager though. It seems she withdrew a large amount of money right before she left. Said it was for a tropical vacation with her boyfriend.”
Danny nodded. “She and Dunnsforth were tight, but it was a working relationship, not sexual. The only boyfriend I know about was Maddox.”
“Anything particular I should look for when we search her place?”
“Yeah. A blue dress with blood stains, matching blue shoes and a blue scarf with silver flowers. If she went back to her apartment and packed, she would have changed and those things should be there.”
“And if they’re not?”
Danny hesitated. “Then she’s dead.” He hung up, not liking that option.
* * *
Over the next two months, Danny focused on work with no time for frivolities or blind dates, despite Ray’s pleas. He had to find Paulina, or at least her body, and Dunnsforth’s killer. Three of the five female suspects on his list left town despite police warnings. All three women had reason to want him dead, the other two he left for other officers to find since they didn’t seem viable suspects.
From everything he saw, Dunnsforth treated Paulina like an equal. She had no reason to want him dead. Not unless there was truth in the rumor they’d embezzled a sizable sum of money from DMR and he took her share. Danny’s gut instinct was that the whole embezzlement story was a ruse. Dunnsforth didn’t seem as ruthless as the others. While Bobby did find muddy shoes in her closet along with the blood-stained dress crumpled into a ball inside a plastic bag, she wasn’t the prime suspect since, in Bobby’s words, “there wasn’t enough blood.”
Margaret Maddox had little contact with Dunnsforth except at social events. According to Oswald, two days after her release from jail, Margaret hopped a plane to visit her sister in Phoenix.
Heather Lewis-Dunnsforth was a pampered princess who’d hire a hit rather than get her hands dirty by something as distasteful as murder. Once released from police custody, she grabbed her kids and disappeared before Dunnsforth’s body was ready for burial.
The phone rang while he contemplated banging his head on the wall in frustration.
“You sure you don’t want to come for dinner and to meet Katie?” Ray asked for the umpteenth time that week. Yet another attempt to get Danny back to Packham. “I think you’d find her interesting.”
Danny rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have time. I’m trying to find a murderer.”
“She’s cute.” Silence. “Well, she’d have potential if you slapped some makeup on her and gave her contact lenses.”
Danny stared at his computer screen. He’d shown Paulina’s picture everywhere and talked to everyone who knew her. In all that time, he’d never given a thought to her eyes. Nobody’s eyes could naturally be so blue. If she’d changed the color of her eyes, she might have changed a lot more. Dyed her hair. Undergone plastic surgery.
“Uncle Ray? What color are Katie’s eyes?”
There was silence.
“Green, I think. I don’t know. She doesn’t look at me much. I think she hates me.”
“Why would she hate you?” Danny grinned. “You’re a lovable old dog.”
“I give her grief about all the money she spends on the store. First, she hired Nate then she put up new shelves and hung some ugly art. Did you know she replaced the staircase and even changed the name of the place?”
“Yeah, well, Ray’s Used Books really doesn’t apply now.”
He snorted. “Now she calls it Tales and Retales, sells new and used books and she painted the place the same color as the rust on my Honda. That’s not a real color.”
Danny massaged his temples. “Yeah, it’s called rust. Uncle Ray—”
“She tore out the walls of my apartment.”
He raised his eyebrows. “She what?”
“She knocked down the walls upstairs so you can see the whole darn store. My apartment is gone. At least she kept the countertop we made. Didn’t even touch it. Just added some cheap baskets underneath.” His voice softened. “She might not be so bad after all.”
Danny tried to picture the bookstore, but his mind was still on contact lenses. “I haven’t seen my nephews in a couple of months. Maybe I can spare an afternoon to come for a visit. It’s one of the boy’s birthdays this weekend.”
“And check out the new bookstore lady.”
He laughed aloud. “Only so you’ll leave me alone.”
“Can’t make any promises. You find that murderer yet?”
“Not since we’ve been on the phone.” Danny frowned. “There’s been no trace for two months. She had a run-in with some old woman going to Packham. From there, we lost her trail.”
“Packham? Hell, if she ran into any of the old biddies from around here, she probably got spooked and drove off into the sunset.”
“I agree. The question is how?”
Chapter 6
Katie
When the hunched over, balding pharmacist next door called out, “Good morning, Katie,” her hand flinched and her heart raced. It took her nearly a full minute to remember she’d been Katie Mullins for two months and she’d better answer before he got offended.
“Hi.” She nodded.
The drugstore opened at eight every morning and it was now quarter to ten. Must have been a slow morning if he had time to stand in the doorway with a large cup of coffee rather than hanging out behind the back counter. “You’d best convince Ray to get some air-conditioning for that store before your new books curl up and warp. It’s beyond me how he’s never lost half his books every summer.”
“Dust absorbs the humidity.” She smiled wryly. “I don’t think we can afford air-conditioning this year.”
“I know a guy who’ll give you a quote. He’s not bad looking once you get past the bug eyes and scars. I can call him, if you’d like.”
“Maybe some other time.” Like when hell froze over.
He waved and went back into the drugstore.
Katie drew in a deep breath. The air was fresh from last night’s rain and the hint of a breeze mussed her hair. In two months, the only thing to find her was the sunshine and a case of withdrawals that made renovations hell. Nate, bless his heart, had had more compassion while she fought “the flu” than any man she’d ever met.
She blew a strand of stray copper hair out of her mouth and jiggled the door lock. Another thing that needed to be fixed before winter. She should have done it during renovations, but it hadn’t seemed as important as books and workmen. Luckily, Nate worked cheap and she hadn’t had to dig into the money from Dunnsforth. The money was tucked up in a box in the backroom, fastened with half a roll of duct tape. She’d ask him to fix the lock when he delivered her order later.
>
The door opened with a groan. “It’s about time.”
There were two things she knew: books and business. An avid reader, she’d been an editor for a small publisher. Dunnsforth lured her to DMR with the promise of money and challenging work. Then he’d introduced her to Maddox. A shiver ran deep through her body and she refocused.
This was her reality. Her bookstore. Well, hers and Ray’s technically.
It was a hair after ten when the first customer flew into Tales and Retales. “Mr. Humphrey, you’re out and about early. How are you?”
The fifty-something man’s clothes were rumpled and his grey hair mussed. His face contorted and his nostrils flared. “A stupid, ugly, orange cat kept me awake. It sits right under my window and yowls like a banshee every bloody night. I need to know how to trap the blasted thing. My wife won’t let me shoot it. Too inhumane. Not like it’s a kid or anything.” His breath would have gassed the cat if it ventured close since he’d neglected to brush his teeth after breakfast, which smelled like it had included raw onions.
“Sorry to hear that.” Katie found an assortment of outdoor survival and hunting books. “One of these should have something to help.”
They flipped through book indexes for twenty minutes until finding a pattern for a live skunk trap. He grunted and threw some wadded-up bills on the counter. “You got a bag for that?”
“Of course.” Katie slid the new book into a bag and handed him his change. “Happy hunting.”
“Smart ass.” Mr. Humphrey strode out of the store and ran smack into Laura Davidson, her cashier.
When Katie had realized she didn’t have enough energy to deal with renovations as well as withdrawals, she stuck a help wanted sign in the window. Laura came highly recommended. She was the only middle-aged woman in Packham who got away with wearing miniskirts and high-heeled shoes.
“I can’t stand that man.” Laura stuck her purse beneath the counter. “He gives me the heebie-jeebies. He’s always got weird stains on his clothes that look like blood.”
“Blood?” Katie gulped. “Does he work at a slaughter house or something?”
“No. I’m not sure what he does, actually. He hangs out in the crime section when he comes in though. Maybe it’s the survival books he looks at. They are close together. Think we should move them?”
She shivered.
“Open the damn door,” a man yelled.
Katie jumped, expecting to see Maddox or one of his cohorts.
Ray kicked at the wooden front door, carrying a cardboard coffee tray with three large paper cups. A plump bag of bakery treats balanced on top of the lids, held in place with his chin.
“Will you relax? It’s just Ray.” Laura laughed. “Honestly, you’re jumpier than a one-legged grasshopper. Are you sure you’re over the flu? Maybe you should go get some rest. We could put a cot in the back room.”
“I’m okay.” Katie opened the door and lunged to grab the bag before it toppled to the floor. “Good morning.”
A week after she reopened the store, Ray bought a wicker chair from the antique shop next door. He’d gushed about the wider staircase and sturdy railing while he set up a reading nook in the new loft. The week after that, he brought in a matching table to hold his coffee. He’d started to shave and shower regularly and dressed nicer than before. Apparently, she was doomed to have him as a permanent fixture and had to make the best of it. Had fate brought her to Packham for more than one reason?
“Good morning?” He scowled. “Some crazy woman nearly made me wear our morning coffees. You know I’m a grouch until I have my first cup.”
“Says who?” Laura asked.
He pursed his lips and stared. “Says you, every blessed morning. What did Humphrey want this time?”
Katie sighed. “Trapping books.”
Laura opened the bakery bag and fished out three muffins. “So, what took you so long? Usually you’re out of bed and here before we are.”
Ray shuffled toward the staircase with his muffin and coffee. “Slept in. That crazy old dingbat across the hall kept everyone up with her typing and talking to herself.”
Katie touched the eraser of her pencil to her lips. “What does she write?”
Ray sloshed coffee on the sleeve of his shirt. “Probably letters to prison penpals. She’ll probably lure one here to steal us all blind.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.” Ray grimaced. “All he’d have to do is reply and she’d invite him over for tea. I’m tired of her hammering away on that stupid old typewriter. One day, I’d love to make her life as miserable as she makes everyone else’s.”
“Why don’t you all just pitch in for a computer?” Laura asked. “At least it would be quieter.”
Gradually, they settled into their daily routine. Laura tidied shelves. Katie caught up on paperwork and ordered merchandise. Ray climbed the stairs with his coffee and the newest bestseller by John Grisham.
“Don’t get that book dirty or you’re buying it,” Katie warned. “Full price.”
He snorted, as he always did, and she smiled then shook her head, as she always did. A month ago, she’d have chased him down and wrestled it from his greasy grasp. Now it was like chastising her grandfather. She tried to sound stern, but couldn’t bring herself to follow through with her threats. She’d make a lousy mother.
The chimes above the door jingled shortly after lunch. Katie flinched, still not used to the sound. A groan erupted from Ray on the upper level.
Mimsy Lexington clunked through the doorway with her walker, followed by her grandson Mark who slid his dark sunglasses to the top of his head and nodded. Thin and wiry, a shock of brown hair dangled over the permanent scowl on his face.
Katie smiled. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Lexington. Mark.”
“Darling, I keep telling you every week to call me Mimsy.” She tossed her long, white hair, her voice a sultry drawl only the very rich or eccentric could pull off.
Mark huffed and rolled his eyes. He was obligated to drive her everywhere. According to Laura, he was the only member of the family willing to do anything for a buck, including following his grandmother around town while she spent his inheritance on paperback romance novels and chocolate.
“Of course, Mimsy.” Mimsy’s lavish red velvet gown revealed the crêpe skin of her chest right down to the soft swells of her breasts. She’d left her thick, hip-length hair loose and poured her body into a push-up bra and girdle. Despite her age and limited mobility, she fancied herself a beautiful young countess from the books she absorbed each week and commanded everyone’s attention when she entered the store.
“Do you have any new stories for me, Katie dear?” Mimsy’s amethyst eyes sparkled with excitement. “My hair and nails are done and I’m ready for a decadent afternoon of tea, chocolate and romance.”
Mark grunted something under his breath about a crazy old biddy and scoured the magazine racks. Mimsy turned her head but didn’t bother to comment.
Katie set a selection of ten books on the counter. “Personally, I’d go for the new Katarina von Herrington book. I read one last month that was fabulous. The newest one just came out last week. I’ll grab you a copy.”
“She’s overrated.” Mimsy smiled smugly and waved a hand. “I’ll take the top three today.”
“Are you sure?”
“I trust you, darling. You wouldn’t steer me wrong.” She patted Katie’s hand.
Mark growled.
“So, my darling, what do you like to read?” Mimsy paid for her books. “Aside from our dear friend Katarina.”
“Oh, I’ve read a lot of different authors lately.” Her face warmed. “I don’t favor one or another right now.”
Mimsy leaned over the counter. “Surely there’s a writer who captures your fancy or speaks to your soul? Do you like romance or adventure?”
“Adventure. With some romance.”
Mimsy squealed and grasped Katie’s forearm, her nails painted a shade reminiscent of red rose
petals. “I adore romance novels. It’s been far too long since I’ve had a real romance in my life. Men my age could care less about being romantic. They’re more concerned with keeping their pants from sliding off and their dentures from falling out.”
Katie thought about Ray engrossed in a detective novel upstairs. Mimsy’s outlook on life amazed her. She hoped she’d be half as enthusiastic when she was eighty. Of course, she also hoped whoever ended up hauling her around town had a better sense of humor than Mark.
“Is that everything today?” Laura asked.
“It is unless you carry Playboy,” he said.
Mimsy gave a dramatic sigh. “Paper dolls, Mark. You’re better off to find a real girl, like Katie here. Or that lovely Debbie Morris who works in the candy store.”
Mark winced.
Katie wrinkled her nose but, for a split second, she was offended he wasn’t a little attracted. He could have winked or something.
She reconsidered. Laura bagged his magazine and gave a sympathetic smile. “Paper dolls don’t collect alimony, Mimsy.”
“Amen.” Mark grinned with the straightest, whitest teeth she’d seen in Packham so far. He’d be a real charmer if he shaved, found some better-fitting clothes, got a job… Was she really that desperate?
“You know,” Mimsy studied Katie. “If you’re interested in doing some writing of your own. There’s a great little writing group in town. You could get out once in a while and make some new friends.”
Writing was something Katie had considered when she was twelve, but not since. “I’m pretty busy getting the store going. I don’t really have the time.”
“Too bad. It would be a lot of fun.” Mimsy clunked toward the door as graceful as possible with a walker. Below her skirt appeared a spiked heel.
Katie tilted her head to the left in hopes of a better view and realized Laura had done the same. “Did you see that?”
Mimsy stopped and did a quarter-turn. “Oh. I forgot to show you my new shoes.”
She raised her long red skirt until clear plastic pumps with three-inch heels became visible then pointed one toe like a ballerina and giggled. “I feel like Cinderella. Maybe I should lose one and see who returns it. What do you girls think?”
