by Woods, Lori
“Thanks,” Molly said.
“I hear you are helping out your new cop buddy with the case,” Jack said.
“Yes, in any way I can,” Molly said.
“I remember when you and I used to work together,” he said. “I kind of miss those days, you know?”
“I don’t,” Molly huffed.
“Look, I’m really try to pay you a compliment here. I’m not trying to be crude or anything like that. I think you’re doing a great job here. I’m proud of you, Molly,” he said with that same charming smile she remembered.
“Well, thank you,” she said. She supposed there was a chance that Jack was honestly trying to be nice and this wasn’t some sort of manipulative game of his. “Would you like to try something out?” she asked. “On the house.”
He smiled and approached the counter, taking a look at the different ice creams. He glanced over at the display case for the fudges and cakes as well. “I see you have expanded your menu. Back in Brooks, you were all about ice cream.”
“Wanted to be sure to have something to serve people once the weather started getting a little cooler. The fall killed me in Brooks,” Molly said.
“Well, it’s still warm enough for ice cream, I’d say. How about the peanut butter chocolate fudge?” he asked, pointing towards the flavor he wanted.
“One scoop coming right up,” Molly said, and made him a cone.
He took a giant bite and then nodded approvingly. “Nice.”
“So, is Chief Ragsdayle really letting you look into this case?” Molly asked.
“What can I say? You know I’m a charmer,” he said with a laugh. “I’m just offering my expertise.”
“Have you found anything out?” Molly asked. “I was thinking a prime suspect would probably be her ex, Troy. He had seemed awfully intimidating towards her at the event.”
“Not possible,” Jack said.
“And why not?” Molly asked.
“Because I was with him at the time of the murder,” he said. “We were watching one of the bands perform.”
Molly stared at Jack for a moment. He was a good cop — that much she could say about him, so it was doubtful he would lie for a guy he had just met. Especially over something like murder. But she had been pretty confident in Troy as a suspect. “You’re sure you were with him the whole time?” Molly asked.
“Yeah,” Jack said, taking another bite of his ice cream. “What, you think I’m lying?” he asked, his voice raised slightly.
“I didn’t say that,” Molly said. “Just making sure that you were certain. Troy seemed like a pretty viable suspect to me.”
“Well, I’m telling you, he wasn’t anywhere near her booth when she was killed because he was with me on the opposite end of the park,” Jack said. “And, no offense, Molly, you’re pretty quick to jump to conclusions. Maybe you should sit this one out. I can tell me being here has gotten you all worked up. Probably not good for you to work on a case while you’re working out your feelings.”
“Working out my feelings? The only reason you being here has me worked up is because I’m upset that you’re here,” Molly said. “My feelings towards you are pretty much ones of aggravation and hostility, if I’m being honest. I still can’t believe you came all the way out this way just to bother me.”
“Oh, come on, Molly; you know I care about you,” Jack said. “You really think I just came out here to harass you? I came out here to talk — you know, about us.”
“There is no us, Jack,” Molly said. “Not anymore. Not ever again. I’m going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t be civil.”
“I am being perfectly civil,” he said, just as Whammy came fluttering by his head. “Hey! Beat it!” he snapped and swatted at the bird.
Molly’s jaw dropped. “Don’t swing at my bird!” she snapped, coming around the counter, relieved that Jack hadn’t managed to make contact with Whammy as he had been swinging his hand about pretty violently.
“Would you chill?” Jack demanded. “He flew right by my head.”
“I still don’t want you trying to swat my parakeet out of the air,” Molly snapped. “Jack, why don’t you just leave?”
“What? You kicking me out?” Jack asked.
Whip and Dazzle made their way out of the back of the kitchen. Whip crossed his arms and glared in Jack’s direction; clearly their raised voices had traveled back to the siblings’ workstation. “Can we help you with anything, sir?” Whip said in the crudest tone Molly had ever heard come out of his mouth.
Jack huffed. “No, I was just leaving. Watch the way you talk to me, kid,” he warned on his way out the door. “I’ll catch up with you later, Moll. Thanks for the ice cream.”
Molly rolled her eyes as Whammy came fluttering down and landed in her hands. “You okay, buddy?” she asked, petting the parakeet on top of his little head. He seemed to chirp loudly and irritably, as though to warn her not to let Jack back into the shop again.
Chapter 7
“He seriously swatted at your bird?” Jeffrey asked on their way out of the shop.
Molly had spewed her guts out to Jeffrey the moment he had arrived at the shop — complaining and giving him an earful about her encounter with Jack. “Yes! He tried to smack him right out of the air!” Molly exclaimed as they began walking down River Street towards where Jeffrey had to park his patrol car. They were heading to an interview with Troy. Despite Jack’s insistence that Troy had been with him during Rita’s murder, his past relationship with the woman was still worth an interview.
“Unbelievable,” Jeffrey said. “I can’t believe you actually dated that tool.”
“I told you, he was all fake and sweet at first. Then the real Jack started to come out,” Molly said, shaking her head. “I wish I had never dated him, but I can’t change the past. I just can’t believe he actually came all the way out to Savannah just to pester me. I think he honestly believes he can win me back or something. I don’t know what he is thinking, really.”
“Should I be concerned about this guy?” Jeffrey asked.
Molly laughed. “No, trust me. He’s just a big-headed cop who thinks he’s more charming than he actually is. But I am curious to find out whether or not his and Troy’s stories add up. I can’t imagine why Jack would want to lie for the guy, so I guess I’m a little more prone to believe him.”
“Troy seemed like a tool,” Jeffrey said.
“No wonder he and Jack hit it off,” Molly said with a laugh.
They had, at last, arrived at Jeffrey’s patrol car. They loaded up and took off towards the Jepson Center, evidently Troy’s place of employment. It did not take long for them to find the man, as he was outside the building on a smoke break when they pulled up. Jeffrey flashed his badge and the man groaned and put out his cigarette on the bench he was seated at.
“All right, what do you two want?” he practically snarled, leaning back on the bench. “I only got like ten more minutes before I got to go back to the ticket line.”
“We want you to tell us about what you were up to the day Rita was killed,” Jeffrey said. “You two seemed like you had some colorful history.”
Troy grunted. “Look, I’m sad about what happened to Rita, but I didn’t have anything to do with it. I was up by the stage, listening to one of the bands, when it happened.”
“Was anyone with you who could confirm this?” Jeffrey asked.
“Yeah,” Troy said, snapping his fingers as he tried to recall his companion’s name. “Guy’s name was Jack. He said he was from Atlanta. We were talking and hanging out. Nice guy.”
You would think that, Molly thought to herself. She had a sour taste in her mouth about this Troy already. She observed him closely, and she noticed a bruise under his chin. “What happened there,” Molly asked, pointing to her own chin to indicate the bruising.
He grumbled. “Freakin’ Rita,” he said. “She and I got into it a couple of weeks ago, and she socked me.”
Molly tried to remember back
to the day of the murder — had Troy already had that bruise? Or had Rita given it to him during her tussle with her attacker? She stared at it carefully; she couldn’t tell how old the bruise was. It was more purple than anything, so it could very well have been a couple weeks old, but she couldn’t be sure. Although, if he had killed Rita, it wouldn’t make much sense to outright admit to her having given him a bruise.
“What was it you two got into it about?” Jeffrey asked.
“She had a bunch of my stuff at her place, and I showed up to get my boxes. The two of us can hardly be in a room together without getting into it. It was no wonder we broke up,” Troy said. He stood up. “Check in with my alibi, would you? I got to get back to work.” He strolled off towards the complex, leaving Molly and Jeffrey standing by the bench.
“What do you think?” Molly asked.
“I think it’s strange to confess to being punched by the victim — especially if you were the assailant,” Jeffrey said. “But I’m not sure just yet. I still have a feeling that Troy had something to do with this. But I don’t want to zero in on him just yet. He’s got an alibi, even if that alibi is your creepy ex-boyfriend. Things clearly didn’t end well between the two of them, though.”
Jeffrey’s phone started to ring. “Who’s calling?” Molly asked.
Jeffrey pulled out his cell phone. “It’s the station,” he said. “Hold on, it might be Sondra calling about Troy. I asked her to do a little digging for me.” He answered the phone and stepped away for a moment.
Molly took this time to take a look at the outside of the Jepson Center. The building was very beautiful; she considered taking the tour sometime. Just when she was getting lost in thought, mostly wondering whether the tour was free or if it would wind up being rather expensive, Jeffrey tapped her on her shoulder. “What did you find out?” she asked.
“I think we need to keep Troy high up on our suspect list,” Jeffrey said.
“Oh yeah? Why? What did you hear?” Molly asked.
“The guy was arrested last year. A domestic violence incident against Rita,” Jeffrey said. “Looks like he is turning out to be a pretty obvious suspect. They were married up until just after Troy’s arrest. They wound up splitting up shortly after.”
“Dang. He sure did fail to mention that,” Molly said.
“No hospital records from that night,” Jeffrey said. “So whatever he did to her at least didn’t put her in the ER, but that hardly matters. If he’s got a history of domestic violence against Rita, it’s not far-fetched to assume he might have pushed her. But we can’t jump to conclusions just yet. Troy’s and Jack’s story about being by the band lined up with each other.”
“Yeah, and there really isn’t any reason for Jack to lie for Troy. They had just met,” Molly said. “Maybe I should make sure that’s true, actually. Maybe he knew him already?”
“Maybe,” Jeffrey said. “You think you can do some digging where that’s concerned?”
“Yeah, I’ll see what I can find out. I could maybe talk to Jack again. Even if he wasn’t lying, he could have been mistaken about the time of murder and assumed incorrectly that he was with Troy the whole time,” Molly said. “I’ll double-check with him to see if he can recall exactly what time they were listening to the band together and when they met up. See if aligns with the timeline of Rita’s murder.”
“I’d hate for you to have to go seeking a conversation with Jack again,” Jeffrey grumbled as they began walking back towards the patrol car. His phone buzzed again. He looked down and opened it up to a text message. “Oh, awesome,” he said.
“What’s awesome?” Molly asked.
“I got permission from the chief to go through Rita’s place finally,” Jeffrey said. “Want to go with me? I got my lockpicking kit in the back.”
“Oh definitely,” Molly said. “You think we will be able to find anything useful?”
“You never know,” Jeffrey said. “We might be able to find out if she had any sort of rivalries going on. If so, it might open up a new realm of suspects for us.”
“Are we really looking at anyone other than Troy right now?” Molly asked.
Jeffrey thought for a moment while they loaded up in the car. “Maybe. I was thinking about looking into Charlotte, the woman Rita had working for her. Rita seemed pretty cruel about what all Charlotte owed her. I mean, I’m sure as a shop owner, it was very frustrating to have that much merchandise destroyed, but that could cause some tension, I imagine.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Molly said. “You think Charlotte could have taken Rita on? Rita seemed like a pretty feisty woman.”
“Charlotte would have just needed to get one good push in to send Rita flying back into that table,” Jeffrey said. “The thing is, though, if the two women had gone at it, I feel like it would have been more spontaneous. Charlotte didn’t really seem like the type that would brawl it out — so the fact that Rita had time to get a weapon leads me to believe that this was much more than a catfight between two women gone wrong. Rita was defending herself against a violent attacker, I’m sure.”
“Well, maybe we’ll find something at her house that can lead us in the right direction,” Molly said. “You never know what sort of secrets people are keeping.”
“Yeah, you really don’t,” Jeffrey said. “Based off Rita’s knuckles, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out she was a boxer by night. Whoever attacked her got clogged pretty hard.”
“I still keep going back to Troy — especially after you told me about the domestic violence charge on his record,” Molly said. “But from what we saw on Rita, you’d think he would have walked away with more than just a bruise under his chin.”
“We’ll figure this out,” Jeffrey assured her. “Now, let’s get to Rita’s.”
Chapter 8
Molly stared out the window of Jeffrey’s patrol car as it zipped along some of Savannah’s less popular back roads. It was not exactly part of Savannah’s historic district, but the homes in the area were still ancient — only in a slightly run-down sort of way, rather than a charming antique way. One of the homes had grass that was so high that it had started to wilt and turn brown. “Well, this place is lovely,” Molly said.
“Yeah, it’s outside the city ordinances,” Jeffrey said. “But wouldn’t you guess it, Rita’s got the nicest house on the block.” He nodded forward as they pulled up to another one of the old houses. Unlike most of her neighbors, Rita seemed to have prided herself on her curb appeal. The front yard was well cut, and she had an adorable fairy garden set up in her flower beds.
“Well, she’s got nice taste,” Molly said as they exited the vehicle.
“I mean, you would sort of expect that from a woman who sells collectible plates, right?” Jeffrey said, locking his patrol car as they headed up the driveway.
Molly paused in front of the flower bed to admire Rita’s fairy garden. She had turned over a number of clay flower pots and had glued small, colorful stones to the sides, built little roofs out of broken up pine cones, and had made little doors for the fairy houses. She had little fairy statues seated all around the little flower pot houses as well. “This is precious,” she said. “Didn’t peg Rita as a fairy girl,” she said.
“Never judge a book by its cover,” Jeffrey said as he began to pick the lock on the door.
He managed to get the door opened, and the two of them headed inside. “Whoa,” Molly said, taking in the scenery. “I guess you’re right about not judging a book by its cover.”
It was like stepping into another dimension after having just examined the adorable fairy garden out front. First, the living room itself was a bit of a mess, but with reason. The whole room was full of boxes upon boxes of collectibles. It seemed that Rita used her own home as a storage facility for her shops merchandise. The décor inside was very different from the cute front yard. The walls were a dark color, and there was a weightlifting station set up in a corner of the living room.
Jeffrey had made his way ove
r to the workout station. There was also a large punching bag set up next to the weights. “Looks like Troy hasn’t come and cleared out all of his stuff from the divorce yet,” Jeffrey said. “That might have had something to do with what he was wanting to talk to Rita about at the festival before I stopped him. I mean, look at all this equipment. I’d probably want that back too.”
In the kitchen, Molly saw a strew of fitness magazines with titles like Tough Woman and Boxing for Amateurs. “Look at this, Jeffrey. I don’t think that equipment belonged to Troy at all. Looks like whoever went after Rita definitely picked the fight with the wrong woman,” Molly said, holding up the well-loved magazine depicting a very buff-looking female boxer.
“Let me see that,” Jeffrey said, coming over and taking the magazine. He flipped through it a bit, and even found a chart in the back of the magazine where Rita had been logging her workout regimen. “I guess you’re right. Tough lady. No wonder she went out fighting like she did. Whoever took her on probably wasn’t expecting such a tussle.”
“You’re not kidding,” Molly said. “Do you think after the domestic violence incident with Troy that she started picking up some of this for self-defense purposes?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Jeffrey said. “He must have done a real number on her. I mean, I know a few women who like to bulk up, but she seems like a pretty serious enthusiast for someone who makes fairy gardens in her spare time and sells collectibles.”
“I feel sorry for her,” Molly said. “I get the impression she must have been living her life in fear of men because of one creep. Can’t really blame her.”
“Let’s see what else we can find,” Jeffrey said. “Split up. Look through drawers and sift through anything you come across. Maybe we can find something useful.”
They walked about the house, and both Molly and Jeffrey found some places where someone had punched a few holes in the wall. Molly grimaced. The house wreaked of domestic violence, and it made her stomach churn. “Looks like Rita had been living with a pretty angry guy,” Molly called to Jeffrey from across the house.
