"Like a hand lotion or something?"
"That would be my guess." He placed the bag on the table. The plastic was smeared with a thin film of grease. "The lab will come by to swab the substance, but I thought I could get a quicker analysis from Samantha." He came close to tapping my nose with his finger, but stopped short of touching it. Oddly enough, I was disappointed.
I pulled on the latex gloves needed to examine evidence. "I don't think I'll need to take the knife out. I can just open the bag and take a whiff." I put the bag over my face to block out any other smells and took several deep breaths. There was more than enough residue for me to detect the fragrance of the greasy substance.
I pulled the bag away from my face. "Definitely a cosmetic preparation of some sort. Lotions usually contain glycerin that acts as a humectant. That helps keep moisture in as well as out. That's why the grease was still on the handle after the rain. Glycerin in itself doesn't have an odor, but we can see it on the bag. I'm sure the lab will confirm it. But to be more effective and, frankly, more pleasant, hand lotions generally contain an emollient, a fat or lipid of some kind and preferably one with a nice fragrance. According to my nose, the killer used a moisturizer with coconut oil. It's a popular scent for lotions and creams, not too sweet and very subtle."
"Do you know which brands contain coconut oil?"
"Not off hand but I think I'd be able to recognize this one if I smelled it somewhere other than the evidence bag."
"That's good to know." Briggs zipped the bag up.
"I'd say people who have their hands in paints and the solvents needed to thin them would need to constantly slather their hands in lotion to keep them from cracking. Just like florists." I showed him my own red knuckles. "Even then, it doesn't always do the trick."
"What hand lotion do you use?"
"I prefer one that is odor free. Otherwise, all I can smell when I'm eating is the lotion."
"Yes, that makes perfect sense." He carried the bag back to the shelf. "I'm going to be heading out to Jodie Dean's house this morning. If there's any way you can get away for an hour or two, it'd be nice to have you along. You know, just to sniff around."
"Your teacher? Is she a suspect?" I hadn't even considered the art teacher.
"No, not at all, but I need to interview each of the last people to see Letty. And Ms. Dean is on that list. I have to find out where each person went after the diner and gather alibis. I haven't taken any of the art class attendees off the list yet. And, as you said, artists would most likely be frequent users of hand lotion."
"So you want me to come as a partner in your investigation?"
Briggs smile was faint. We'd had more than one debate about whether or not I was his actual partner. As far as I was concerned, I was, even if it was mostly my nose that was involved in the investigation.
"I suppose if it makes you happy to think you're my partner, then I can consider you that."
I cupped my ear with my hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't quite hear that. You can consider me what?"
He tilted his head. Annoyance looked remarkably attractive on him. "Partner. Miss Pinkerton, would you like to come along as my temporary partner on this investigation?"
I pulled off my glove and stuck out my hand. "Not crazy about the 'temporary' adjective, but I'll take it."
Briggs hesitated before taking hold of my hand, and I realized it had nothing to do with the discussion. He stared at my hand for a second and then reached forward and wrapped his fingers around mine. His grasp was firm and confident, just like I expected. What I hadn't expected was a certain exchange of warmth from his palm and fingers to mine. As reluctantly as he took hold of my hand, he released it. A few seconds of awkward silence followed. which I quickly obliterated with a period of quick, successive claps.
"Yay, I'm an investigative partner. I've got to open the shop. What time do you need me back and reporting for duty?"
He led me out of the room and locked the door behind us. "I'll text you after the lab tech has come by to collect samples. Probably around ten."
"Perfect. See you then, partner." I turned around and saluted him.
"Guess I've really done it now."
Chapter 20
Ryder shook his head with a quiet laugh as he lifted the bag of potting soil onto the work station.
"What's so amusing?" I asked, putting my attention back on the dull task of paperwork.
"Nothing much, except you've been gazing dreamy eyed out the windows all morning."
"Have I? I was just watching out for Kingston. He doesn't usually stay in the trees for so long."
"Well, he had a long weekend inside the house," Ryder reminded me. "And I don't think those starry eyed looks have anything to do with your crow."
I straightened and stacked the papers in front of me with more vigor than necessary. "Don't know what you're getting at. I'm just trying to puzzle out the murder mystery."
"Yes, the murder mystery you're solving with a certain detective."
I spun around to face him. "Did Lola put you up to this?"
"Lola? No, why did she say something about me?" he asked anxiously.
Now it was my turn to laugh and pat myself on the back for turning the conversation away from my starry eyed daydreams out the window. "No, it's just she's constantly needling me about Detective Briggs." I looked at my phone for the hundredth time to see if he'd texted yet. No word. Maybe he'd decided not to take me along on his interview after all. That notion sank my shoulders. But I straightened instantly when his text buzzed through.
"Will you still be able to go with me to Jodie Dean's house?"
"Yes," I texted back quickly.
"I'll swing by and pick you up."
"You don't even have to tell me." Ryder put up a soil covered hand. "I can tell by your expression. I'll hold down the fort while you're gone. Don't forget that Elsie needs my help after lunch with a delivery of ingredients."
"That's right. I'll make sure to be back by then." Detective Briggs pulled up in front of the shop. I grabbed my sweater and reached under the counter for my purse. Then I tried unsuccessfully to push a few errant curls from my forehead and hurried to the door.
"Remember," Ryder said, stopping my progress. "Try not to look too excited. Play it cool."
"Oh shush, you ornery shop assistant and finish planting that basil." I rushed out the door but then heeded Ryder's advice. I was acting like a teenage girl waiting for her first mad crush to pick her up for ice cream. I was merely assisting Detective Briggs on a murder inquiry. There was no mad crush or future prospect of ice cream. (Well, maybe a mild crush.)
Detective Briggs, always the gentleman, stepped out to open the passenger door. "Good morning, partner," I semi-sang as I slid into the seat.
"Good morning, Miss Pinkerton." He shut the door and walked around to the driver's side.
"Where are we going first?" I opened my purse and pulled out the notebook and pen Briggs had given me on Valentine's Day. Most women would have grimaced at the lack of romance in a notebook and pen, but I secretly loved the gift. It was just like his, and as far as I was concerned, it was his subtle way of telling me he enjoyed my company on his investigations. Even more importantly, it meant he considered me to be a serious detective, like himself. Even if I wasn't wearing a badge.
Briggs took a sideways glance at the notebook and tamped down a smile. "I see you came prepared."
I patted the notebook on my lap. "Yep. These pages have been far too blank. They were in need of a good murder." I pulled my mouth down at the sides. "Oops, that sounded terrible. Obviously there is no such thing as a good murder."
"That's all right. I understood the context. And to answer your first question, we are heading to Jodie Dean's house in Mayfield. I'm hoping she can give me some insight into the various interrelationships of the art group. I thought she might know some of Letty's outside friends and acquaintances, as well."
"So she's not a person of interest? I thought she was with Le
tty the night she disappeared."
"Well, yes, of course. I need to find out what she did after dinner with Letty. But I hadn't thought much about her as a person of interest."
"Oh? Why is that? Is it because she was your teacher, and she helped save your diploma?"
His chin shifted back and forth as he adjusted the rearview mirror. "Hmm, I guess that's a good question. Maybe I subconsciously took her off the list because of that. Still, she seems like an unlikely suspect. By the way, the lab technician came by and collected a swab from the inside the evidence bag. He said they have a database to match chemical compounds to a specific cosmetic brand. He also said the tests could take up to three days. I thought maybe you could get us closer to the specific brand and the user of that brand and in less time."
"I'll do my sneaky, sniffy best," I said confidently.
Chapter 21
Jodie Dean graciously invited us into her home, a midcentury ranch house on a quiet street. Exactly the house you would expect a teacher to live in. She was wearing a painter's smock and had short curls clipped up off her face and neck. There were two paintbrushes in her hand, both coated with yellow paint.
"If you don't mind, I'm just cleaning up." We followed her through the front room into the kitchen. She stepped out onto a service porch to clean the brushes. "If I don't rinse them now, they'll be ruined. And they don't look like much, but they cost a pretty penny." She spoke loudly over the sound of water rushing into the utility sink.
Briggs and I stood in the kitchen while she finished cleaning the brushes. A coffee pot beeped four times, letting us know the brewing session was done.
"Would you like some coffee?" Jodie called from the service porch.
"No, thank you," Briggs answered.
A round table was situated in the corner of the kitchen, beneath a window and in front of a tall cabinet filled with tea pots and porcelain trinkets. Mail was spread out on one side of the table. I couldn't help but notice that there was more than one piece of mail with the dreaded pink insert, a business or utilities' way of letting you know your payment was overdue. Pink was usually the final color before the creditors knocked on your door. It seemed that Jodie Dean was having some financial difficulties. I waved my hand in the direction of the mail. Briggs nodded that he'd seen the overdue notices too.
"Is she married?" I whispered.
He shook his head. "I think they divorced when I was still in high school," he said quietly and finished just as the sink turned off.
Jodie came around the corner wiping her hands on a towel. They were, not surprisingly, red and chapped. "You'd think I had to wash up for surgery everyday with the way these hands look. Which reminds me—"
Briggs and I exchanged questioning looks as she disappeared down the hallway. She returned a few seconds later, rubbing white lotion between her hands. "I finally got a prescription lotion from the doctor. I think the over-the-counter stuff was making my hands worse." She showed off her red knuckles and cracked fingertips. "This stuff already feels much better, like my skin is drinking it in."
Jodie let out a sad breath, and her shoulders lifted and fell. Her demeanor changed dramatically. "I can't tell you how distraught I am over the news. Letty was a good person with a promising career ahead of her. That's why I was painting this morning. It always takes my mind off things." As she spoke, her eyes flitted to the table. Apparently she realized that she'd left her late notice bills out for us to see. She walked over and swept everything into a pile and pushed it into a drawer in the trinket cabinet. "Now what can I help you with, James? Excuse me, Detective Briggs. I just can't get used to that. It seems so formal." She was a pleasant enough person, and it seemed she still felt some nostalgic connection to her past students. Jodie favored me with a polite smile.
"Yes, Ms. Dean, I believe you've met my friend Lacey Pinkerton. Miss Pinkerton has a specialized skill that lends itself occasionally to an investigation."
Her lips pursed together. "Is that right? I can hardly imagine what skill that might be." She was fishing for information, but Briggs made it clear that he'd said all he planned to say on the matter.
Briggs pulled out his notebook. "As I mentioned on the phone, I was hoping to get a little more insight into the relationships Letty Clark had with the other artists. And while we're at it, I need to write down your account of the evening. When you last saw Letty and where you went afterward."
Jodie's lips pursed again. "I don't see how that will help but that's fine. Are you sure neither of you wants coffee?" She pulled a cup down from the cupboard.
"No, thank you," I said. "I've already had several cups this morning. In fact, if you don't mind, could I use your bathroom? I hate to be a bother but—"
"Of course, dear. Then James and I can have our little chat. First door on the right."
I headed down the short hallway to the first door. Since she had just used it, Jodie's hand lotion was on the counter. It had a pharmacy label taped to it with instructions to rub liberally on hands three to four times a day or after washing. I lifted the bottle. There was still a globule left on the tip. I took a deep whiff and was not surprised to find it odorless. A prescription strength hand cream wouldn't have any of the same frilly, fragrant additives as the over-the-counter product. This lotion was the real thing. It was meant to heal chapped hands. I placed the bottle back on the same spot and made a point of flushing and washing my hands.
Jodie seemed to prefer a private talk with Briggs, so I lingered in the bathroom, not wanting to interrupt whatever it was she had to tell him. I quietly smelled a few of the other cosmetics sitting on the counter. There was a face powder and some lipstick, but nothing had a coconut oil scent. I finished up my pretend restroom stop and made sure to walk loudly along the hallway, letting them know I was on my way back to the kitchen.
Briggs was writing something down in his notebook. My return had taken Jodie's attention off the discussion. She smiled and hopped up from the table. "I nearly forgot, my friend sent me some delicious Italian cookies." She walked to a bright blue and white cookie jar and pulled it out from beneath the cabinet. "They are so delicious with a touch of anise. I can't stop eating them."
"I'm fine," Briggs said as he pushed up from the chair and put his notebook away.
"No, thank you," I said. "And thank you for letting me use your restroom."
Jodie's rounded gaze shot to Briggs. "Is that it then? Well, that didn't take too long. I'll be able to get back to my work."
"Yes, thank you," Briggs said. "And I apologize for taking up your time this morning."
Jodie led us to the front door. "I do hope you get to the bottom of this tragedy soon. At least so her parents can have closure. And her friends, of course," she added rather awkwardly at the end.
Briggs and I headed out to the car and climbed inside. We both looked at each other, hoping there was news to share.
I shook my head. "No match on the hand lotion. Although, I'm sure you knew that your favorite teacher would not be involved."
"A comedian with a cute and helpful nose."
"I will take that list as a compliment. What did you find out or did you spend the time reminiscing about your high school glory days?"
"Trust me, they weren't all that glorious." He started the car and pulled out onto the road. "Jodie Dean gave me a few of the same details you learned from Denise. Letty and Darren had a somewhat tumultuous relationship that she seemed to think leaned more toward Darren wanting to keep it going and Letty wanting it over for good."
"Did it seem as if Ms. Dean suspected that Darren might have had something to do with her death?"
"I did get that sense. But she also brought up how angry Greta Bailey has been about Letty's sudden success. Greta has been trying for some time to get noticed by collectors, and Letty sort of flew right past her."
"That confirms everything Denise told me. Sounds like you have some motives, anyhow."
"Yes, it's a start. Thank you for taking time away from t
he shop to help me with this. I'm going to head back to the station. While we were in the house, I got a text from the coroner's office. He said the initial analysis was in."
"And I need to cover the store while Ryder helps Elsie with a delivery."
"Is the bakery up and running again?"
"Sort of. I don't think Elsie had too many goodies to offer today, but she said she felt much better. She'll be back at a hundred percent soon enough. Otherwise, I'm afraid Port Danby will suffer from baked good withdrawals."
Chapter 22
Ryder brought back a plate of chocolate chip scones. "From Elsie. One for me for helping and one for you for letting me help."
"I thought she was going to take it easy on baking today," I noted but didn't let my worry for Elsie's health stop me from taking a bite of the flaky scone. Elsie had put a dollop of whipped butter on each scone and it dripped down the sides like butter on a stack of hotcakes. Only the scone was far better than pancakes.
I dabbed at my lip to keep the melted butter from running down my chin. "Hmm, so good. And just in time. My stomach was growling, and I'm almost sure I heard it roar the words chocolate chip scone during its hunger tantrum." Kingston clattered his claws along his perch, letting me know he needed some kind of treat as well. I pulled out the can of dog treats, his new favorite, and walked over to give him a few.
Ryder stretched his arms back. "Those bags of flour are heavy. Like bags of flour," he laughed. "As much as I love the scones, I'm in need of something a little meatier. I was going to go buy a burger and take a break."
"Absolutely. You earned it."
Ryder grabbed his beanie from the hook and pushed it down over his head, causing his long bangs to nearly cover his eyes. "Do you want anything?"
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