The place hadn’t changed. Abigail had been here many times over the years, and it was like going back in time. The walls were the same pale pink with white accents. Wooden shelves painted in white lined the walls, all of them holding various hairspray and products. Several women were sitting on the side of the room, their heads under one of the big hairdryers as they chatted.
Being back was strange, but it was also oddly soothing to see nothing had changed. Abigail leaned back in the chair and idly listened to the chatter going on around her. If there was anything she wanted to know about the town, she just had to come here and listen. The voices were partially drowned out by the sounds of the hairdryers and the radio, but Abigail could understand what they were saying if she focused.
“Oh, my,” a woman said. “Is that you, Abigail Kinsman?”
Abigail almost grimaced, but she managed to school her expression. “Yes. It’s me.”
“I thought you moved to the city!”
“I did, and I’m back.” Did Abigail have to do this every day? This lady had to know she’d moved back. She was here. Everyone else in the shop knew, and they had no doubt told her about this.
But of course, things weren’t that easy. Several women came closer, cooing over her as if she were a child. “You’ve grown so much,” Joyce Kingsley, the local doctor’s wife, said.
“Well, that’s because I’m thirty-five now,” Abigail said. She barely managed to control the snort that threatened to escape her.
Mrs. Kingsley blinked. “Of course, of course. Last I heard you were married. Where is your husband? Has he moved with you?”
Abigail gritted her teeth. “I’m here to help Aunt Charlotte,” she said even though she was planning on staying. She wasn’t about to explain her relationship with Kevin to these people, though.
“Have you heard that Charlotte was there when Randall was found?” Eunice said.
Abigail was glad for the distraction, but she wasn’t sure it had been a good idea since she wanted to talk about Randall as much as she wanted to talk about Kevin—which was not at all—and the ladies around her were bound to know she’d been there, too. She looked at the older woman, who winked at her and turned her attention back to Aunt Charlotte’s hair.
Janet Kendal turned around and gasped. “That’s right! Someone told me about it, but I haven’t yet had the time to talk to you. What happened, Charlotte? Was it horrible?”
Abigail was more than a little grateful that she wasn’t pulled into that conversation. She listened as her aunt recounted what had happened, with a few embellishments here and there. It made her want to smile. Aunt Charlotte was keeping the attention on herself, and Abigail was free to breathe.
“Who do you think did it?” Janet asked.
This, Abigail was interested in. She didn’t think Chief Holden truly suspected her or Aunt Charlotte, but how could she be sure? Besides, even though she didn’t want to talk about Randall or finding his body, it didn’t mean she wasn’t curious. Who had killed him? Why? She couldn’t imagine killing anyone for any reason, and she had a hard time dealing with the knowledge that someone in their little town had. It might even be someone she saw every day, someone her aunt was friends with, maybe a customer of the shop. It was horrifying, and Abigail wasn’t quite sure what to think about it, or what to do.
“I think it was his wife,” Holly Anderson, the mayor’s secretary, said. She was sitting under one of the big hairdryers, but she was leaning forward so much that it didn’t cover her head anymore.
Eunice arched a brow and gestured at her to lean back in the chair. “Martha? Well, she certainly had a motive, but can you imagine her hitting her husband on the back of the head?”
Holly shrugged. “Why not? Maybe she had enough. You know how he was treating her. I wouldn’t have wanted to be married to him.”
“Even if she didn’t want to be married to him anymore, it doesn’t mean she had to kill him.”
“It’s always that way,” another lady said. Abigail couldn’t remember her name. “It’s always the wife or the husband, isn’t it?”
Abigail didn’t know Randall’s wife, and she wasn’t about to bring attention back to her, so she kept her mouth shut, even though she had questions. Why would Randall’s wife want to kill him? Abigail understood bad relationships. Hell, she’d come from one. She’d never thought about killing Kevin, though.
Not seriously anyway.
“And she did hate Randall,” Eunice said.
“Can you blame her? He was an asshole.”
“Yes, but she could have divorced him.”
“He’d have taken all the money. You know that.”
“Do I? Where did you hear that, Lorraine?”
Abigail shook her head and sighed. These people knew everything there was to know about everyone in town, and it was weird to believe that once she and Aunt Charlotte left, they wouldn’t talk about them.
She listened to the chatter and wondered if Randall’s wife could have done it. Abigail didn’t want to suspect a woman she didn’t even know, but the first suspect was usually the husband or the wife, so it would make sense.
Abigail didn’t know. She wasn’t planning on finding out, either. She might not like Chief Holden very much, but he was the chief of police, and from everything she’d heard about him, he knew how to do his job. She hoped he would because she didn’t want to be a suspect. In fact, she hated it. She’d come home to have a quiet life, and it was proving to be anything but easy to obtain that.
When Abigail and Aunt Charlotte got back to the shop after Aunt Charlotte had her hair done, they found Chief Holden waiting for them. Abigail had managed to distract herself, but all of that vanished. Abigail didn’t want to think about Randall and his murder. She didn’t want to think about who had killed him. She felt sorry for him, but this was too much. As sorry as she was, she didn’t want to be involved.
It looked like she was going to be anyway.
“Chief Holden,” Aunt Charlotte said as she unlocked the door. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
Chief Holden looked uncomfortable. “I need to talk to you.”
“About Randall?”
“About him, yes. Can I come in?”
“Of course.”
Abigail suspected he would have come in even if Aunt Charlotte had said no. She didn’t like any of this, but she knew there was no way around it. Besides, maybe if they talked to him now, he wouldn’t come back.
She almost snorted to herself. He would keep coming back until he found the killer, and even after that happened, he would still be around town. He lived here, where everyone knew everyone. It was a matter of time until Abigail knew him, too.
She followed Aunt Charlotte and Chief Holden inside the shop and moved toward the backroom so she could give them time and space to talk. She was surprised when Chief Holden cleared his throat and shook his head at her. “I’d like to talk to you, Mrs. Kinsman.”
Abigail frowned. “Miss.”
“I apologize.”
“I’ll go to the backroom,” Aunt Charlotte said. Abigail wanted her to stay, but she knew better. She didn’t know what the chief wanted from her, but if he wanted to talk to her and only her, it had to be important.
They waited until Aunt Charlotte was in the backroom with the door closed behind her. Then, Abigail turned to Chief Holden. “What is it?”
“I’d like to know where you were when Randall was killed.”
Abigail blinked at him. “Well, I wouldn’t be able to tell you since I don’t know when he died.”
He stared at her, and Abigail wondered what this was about. She didn’t have a crystal ball. She couldn’t guess.
Chief Holden cleared his throat. “The night before you found him. He never left his office, and the killer found him there. He was dead a while before you got there.”
“Miranda found him, not me. And I was at home the night before he died. I already told you that.”
He nodded curtly.
“I’m aware. Can you elaborate? Tell me what you did and if there was anyone with you?”
He suspected she was the killer. Abigail didn’t know why because it made no sense, but that much was obvious. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “As I already told you, I was alone. I live in my aunt’s house right now, and the only one who can give me an alibi is her cat. Do I need to call my lawyer?” It was a bluff because the only lawyer she had was her divorce attorney, but she wasn’t about to mention that.
“Of course not. I’m just asking questions.”
“You asked me where I was when he died. That means you think I could have done it.”
“It’s a possibility, yes.”
At least he didn’t deny it. Abigail supposed he should be relieved.
She wasn’t.
She scowled at him. “I’m not sure what to tell you. I was home alone. I didn’t have a reason to kill Randall. I barely knew him. I might have grown up here, but I was away for years. I only just came back, and he moved here when I was away. I met him for the first time a few days ago. Why would I have killed him? I never even talked to him alone.”
The chief looked at her as if trying to read her. He made her uncomfortable, but she knew he would take any kind of movement she made as an indication that she might be guilty. She didn’t want to give him that. She didn’t want to be a suspect because she didn’t have a reason to be. “I know he was pushing you to sell the shop,” he finally said.
That wasn’t a surprise. “I’m pretty sure everyone in town knows he was pushing Aunt Charlotte to sell. Hell, he’s been pushing other people, too.” Abigail didn’t want to throw Roger under the bus, and she didn’t think it was needed right now. She kept it to herself, but if it came to it and Chief Holden didn’t know about it, she’d tell him.
“But your aunt wasn’t planning on selling, was she?”
“Of course not. She might have broken her arm, but the shop is still her baby. She would never sell it, especially if it was to build a ridiculous hotel.”
“You seem to know a lot about Randall’s plans.”
“I don’t. I know what I’ve been told by my aunt and other people in town.” Chief Holden was irritating, but Abigail was doing her best to appear calm. It was hard. She didn’t like being a suspect, especially when she barely knew Randall. She shouldn’t be in the picture at all, and the fact that she was meant the chief wasn’t doing his job correctly.
Or maybe it was the irritation talking. Abigail didn’t know how detectives worked. Yes, this was annoying, but it was probably normal when it came to a murder investigation.
She sighed and tried to relax. “You’re right. He was pushing Aunt Charlotte, especially after she broke her arm. He thought she was too old to continue working here, especially since she does the soap and everything else herself. It’s the reason I’m here. She can’t do most of the work with a cast, so I’m helping out. The shop isn’t mine, though. It’s hers, so I wouldn’t have had a reason to kill Randall.”
“You might have been trying to protect your aunt.”
“She doesn’t need to be protected.” When the chief looked incredulous, Abigail couldn’t help but chuckle. “Trust me. You might not have lived here long, but eventually, you’ll get to know the people who live in town, including my aunt. She doesn’t need me to protect her, even with one of her arms broken. Randall came around a few times, and every single time, she told him where the door was. She said she had no intention of selling, and while he didn’t take no for an answer, she wouldn’t have killed him. Besides, how would that have worked? She has a cast on one arm, for heaven’s sake. How was she supposed to pick up the paperweight that was used to hit him on the head?”
The chief’s eyes narrowed. “You seem to know an awful lot about how Randall died.”
“I know what I saw when Miranda found him. It’s not because I killed him. It’s because I have eyes.”
He stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “All right. Thank you for your time. I don’t see your aunt.”
“She’s in the backroom.” Abigail hesitated. “Neither of us did anything. You already know what my aunt was doing, and I didn’t have a reason to kill Randall. I didn’t like him, but I barely knew him, and I had no contact with him except when he came here. Yes, he was irritating, but if I had to kill every person I find irritating, I’d be a serial killer.”
“It might be wise not to mention that kind of thing when you’re talking to the chief of police who’s investigating a murder,” Chief Holden pointed out.
Abigail shrugged. “Maybe. I doubt you’re going to believe anything I say, though. I know you’re investigating, and that you’ll investigate me.” Which meant he was going to find things Abigail didn’t want anyone to find out, but there was no way out of it.
There was no way out of a murder investigation, apparently, and Abigail hated it.
Aunt Charlotte was out of the backroom as soon as the door closed behind Chief Holden. She peeked out the window, then, once she was sure he wouldn’t come back, she turned to Abigail. “What’s going on? What did he want?” Her eyes widened. “Did he ask you out?”
Abigail snorted. “Of course not. Why would he ask me out?”
“Well, both of you are single, and you’re beautiful.”
Abigail shook her head. “Thank you for the compliment, but no.” The thought was terrifying. “He wanted to know where I was the night Randall died.”
Abigail hadn’t thought it possible, but Aunt Charlotte’s eyes widened even more. “He thinks you killed him?”
“I don’t know what he thinks. He wanted to know where I was, and I told him—again. I also told him I didn’t have a motive to kill Randall since I didn’t know him.”
“So he knows you’re innocent.”
“He said that while I didn’t know Randall, I did meet him, and he was bothering you. He thinks that maybe I wanted to protect you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Aunt Charlotte snapped. She looked out the window again, but Chief Holden was long gone. She straightened her shoulders, then looked at Abigail again. “We have to do something.”
“What? He’s the chief of police. He’s in charge of the investigation, and we have to let it run its course.”
“Not when he suspects you. What will happen if he decides to arrest you? You didn’t do anything.” She paused and peered at Abigail. “Right?”
Abigail took a step back. “Of course not. You really think I could kill anyone?”
“No, no. I was just asking. I know you wouldn’t kill anyone.” She shrugged. “If you haven’t killed that ex of yours, you won’t kill anyone.”
That much was true. If there was anyone Abigail wish would disappear from her life, it was Kevin. Of course, some people might think he didn’t deserve it, and if Abigail was honest with herself, she would admit that she didn’t think that, either. Kevin was a bad person, but that didn’t mean he deserved to die. The same went for Randall, and Abigail couldn’t believe someone thought she had something to do with the murder. She couldn’t say she wouldn’t hurt a fly—she killed those when they annoyed her too much—but she wasn’t a violent person.
“We have to do something,” Aunt Charlotte repeated. “We need to make sure he doesn’t arrest you, and the best way to do that is to find the killer.”
Abigail stared at Aunt Charlotte for a moment, wondering if she’d heard that right. “Wait,” she said. “Are you saying you’re planning on investigating this?”
Aunt Charlotte gave her a smile. “Exactly. You were always bright for your age.”
“Don’t patronize me. What are you thinking? You can’t investigate the murder.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not a police detective. You’re not on the force, and you’re going to put yourself in danger if you stick your nose into this.” Because Abigail hadn’t killed Randall, and she knew her aunt hadn’t, either. That meant that the killer, whoever they were, was a
round. It was probably someone who lived in their community, maybe someone they saw every day. If anyone found out what Aunt Charlotte was planning, they might get spooked and try to kill her, and Abigail couldn’t stand that. She couldn’t lose her aunt. She couldn’t lose anyone, not after losing everything once already.
“It’s not like Chief Holden is doing a good job, even though he’s the chief of police. What makes you think I can’t do better?” Aunt Charlotte asked.
“You’re going to get yourself killed. You don’t know who the killer is, and even if you find out, they might try to kill you to stop you from talking.”
“Of course not.”
“You can’t know that,” Abigail snapped. She sucked in a breath, then continued, hoping her voice was calmer. “You’re already hurt. One of your arms is broken, and it’s not going to help. I know you’re trying to protect me, and I’m touched. But I’m sure the chief of police will find the real killer. Even though he interrogated me, I know I’m not the only person he suspects, and he has to talk to everyone. It’s his job.”
Abigail might not have liked it, but she couldn’t deny it. Chief Holden knew what he was doing, and he was probably talking to everyone in Randall’s life. The fact that he needed to talk to Abigail wasn’t a surprise. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was over with, and she doubted he would come back. She was a bit worried that he hadn’t wanted to talk to Aunt Charlotte this time, but maybe he would eventually. Besides, it didn’t matter. There was no way Aunt Charlotte could have done it, not when she was living with Abigail’s parents and one of her arms was in a cast.
“He’s only looking at you right now,” Aunt Charlotte protested. “Aren’t you worried?”
“I am. I don’t want to be investigated. I don’t want him to find out about my past. I don’t want anyone to know, but what am I supposed to do? He’s going to investigate, and he’ll find out I had nothing to do with this. That’s it. We don’t need to stick our noses into this.”
Lethal Suds Page 7
