Lethal Suds

by Sophia Barton

  “I don’t understand why you’re throwing all of this away.”

  “You are the one who threw it away. You are the one who decided to cheat on me, not thinking about me or what it would do to me. Don’t put this on me. It’s all on you, and I won’t let you accuse me of anything.” She paused to breathe. “Now go.”

  Kevin stared at her as if he was going to continue pushing, but just then, a police patrol car turned the corner into the street. Kevin’s gaze went straight to it, and he swore. “Why did you have to call the police?”

  “Because that way, the judge I’ll see for the restraining order will know that I have a good reason to ask for one. The police had to intervene three times to get you away from me.”

  Kevin shook his head. “I don’t understand you. I don’t understand why you won’t listen to me.”

  “I don’t need you to understand. I need you to leave me alone.”

  “Fine. I’ll do what you want. It’s your loss anyway.”

  Abigail almost couldn’t believe her eyes when Kevin finally climbed down the porch steps. She watched him as he strode to his car, ignoring her and the police car. He got inside and slammed the door, and Abigail stayed tense until she was sure he wouldn’t come back. She stared until his car turned the same corner the police car had, then, she leaned against the porch railing.

  It was over. She didn’t know if Kevin would come back, but if he did, she knew she was strong enough to face him and to send him away. She should have threatened him with the restraining order sooner, but she hadn’t wanted to. She’d wanted to do the noble thing, to be good.

  She was done with that. From now on, if Kevin wanted a fight, he would get one.

  15

  This time, Abigail was at the hair salon for herself. Now that Kevin was out of her life—even though she would eventually have to see him again—she felt liberated. She wasn’t planning a complete change, but it was time for her to ditch the dead ends, both when it came to her hair and her life.

  Eunice looked her up and down. “What do you have in mind?”

  Abigail had thought about it. “I’d like you to cut off some of the length. Maybe up to my shoulders?” That way, it wouldn’t be a drastic change of looks, but she would still be different. Lighter, hopefully. Freer.

  Eunice smiled. “I can do that.” She guided Abigail to the sinks. “I heard what happened with your ex.”

  Abigail wasn’t even surprised anymore. “What part of it?”

  “The one where you had to call a deputy to come over to your house because he wouldn’t leave you alone.” She paused and settled a towel around Abigail’s shoulders. “If you ask me, you did the right thing by dumping his ass.”

  Abigail was touched. No one but her family knew what had happened with Kevin, but it was a relief to have the town’s support and not to be judged poorly. She’d already known she hadn’t done anything wrong, and she couldn’t do anything about the people around her talking, but at least, they wouldn’t look at her like she’d done something wrong.

  She lost herself in the routine of having her hair done. She used to do it once a week because she needed to look sharp for when Kevin had dinners and parties for his job. She’d hated those parties, and now, she would never have to go to one again. She was also free to cut her hair, something Kevin had forbidden her to do. He liked her long hair, had said it made her more feminine, and she had half a mind to cut it all off. It would only be a reaction to Kevin, though, so she was going to wait a bit longer until she was sure it was what she wanted.

  The salon door open, and Holly Anderson stepped in. She looked frantic as she glanced around, apparently looking for someone. Her gaze stopped on Eunice, and she rushed to her side. “Have you heard the news?”

  Abigail had no idea what she was talking about, but there was always something happening in town. For such a small town, it was surprising.

  Eunice stopped shampooing Abigail’s hair. “What’s going on now?”

  Abigail was glad she’d asked because she wanted to know, too

  She leaned even closer, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Martha’s been arrested.”

  Abigail gaped. “Martha? Randall’s wife?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  Holly looked at her before turning her attention back to Eunice. “Word is that she killed Randall.”

  Abigail should have seen it coming. Roger had an alibi. He’d been at the ATM, and it was on CCTV. That meant he couldn’t have killed Randall, but it also meant his absence from the house where he’d supposedly spent the entire night gave Martha an opportunity to do it.

  The house wasn’t far from Main Street. It wouldn’t have taken her long to drive there, kill Randall, and go back home before Roger came back. It would have been a risk, but it was possible.

  Abigail didn’t believe it. It didn’t make sense. Yes, Martha had the opportunity to kill Randall, and she had a good reason to want him dead. It wouldn’t be like her, though. Abigail didn’t know her well, but the few times she’d talked to her, Martha had seemed like a perfectly fine lady.

  “Chief Holden thinks she killed her husband?” Eunice asked.

  “Yes. My sister-in-law’s cousin’s best friend works at the station. She answers the phone. She was there when Martha was brought in, and she saw her being taken to the interrogation room.”

  Abigail wanted to jump up from the chair and rush to Martha’s rescue, but she couldn’t. It wouldn’t change anything, and it certainly wouldn’t help. Besides, she couldn’t know if Martha was guilty or not. She didn’t want to think so, but Chief Holden wouldn’t have arrested her if he wasn’t sure.

  Except maybe he had. He’d arrested Roger even though Roger hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t known about Roger’s alibi until Roger had remembered it, but he wouldn’t make that mistake twice.

  Abigail wondered if Martha had an alibi, but she doubted it. If she’d been alone the time Roger had run to the ATM and come back, she could have gone to the office. It would have been hard for her to, but doable.

  Abigail didn’t know what to think. She still suspected Dewey, but she had no proof, and she knew better than to go to Chief Holden without any. He would brush her off, just like he had the last time when she’d tried convincing him Roger had nothing to do with the murder.

  What was next, then? Could Abigail step aside and let Chief Holden do whatever he wanted? Could she trust he would do the right thing?

  Martha hadn’t, and something told Abigail that maybe she wasn’t wrong. She didn’t want to distrust Chief Holden, and she had no reason to so far. She hoped it would continue that way, but if it didn’t, if he charged Martha with murder, Abigail would have to step in. She wouldn’t have stood by if Roger had been charged, and she wouldn’t if Martha was, either.

  But if she wanted to help, she had to do something. She had to be better. She had to find proof that Martha wasn’t the killer, and she had no idea how to do that.

  16

  Unfortunately, Abigail could think of only one person who might be able to answer her questions. The last thing she wanted to do was to talk to Miranda, but it looked like she might have to.

  Miranda had known Randall and Martha better than anyone. Abigail didn’t know that for sure, but she did know that Miranda had worked with Randall for a long time. Miranda had expected a promotion, or at least, that was what Lee had told Abigail.

  She hadn’t gotten it before Randall had died.

  Abigail didn’t believe Miranda had killed Randall, even though Miranda had accused her of thinking it. She might be wrong. She’d been focused on Dewey, and she still thought he was the most probable killer, but she had to be sure, and she wasn’t. She couldn’t ignore the other possibilities, including Miranda.

  That was why she was standing in front of the real estate office. It was lunch break, so she would have an excuse to leave in a rush once Miranda told her to, and the office was empty. Abigail wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. She could change h
er mind until she was inside, but once she was, she would have to go ahead with this.

  She wasn’t looking forward to it, but she needed information. Even if Miranda had nothing to do with the murder—and Abigail wasn’t sure about that—Abigail had to talk to her. Maybe Miranda had known about Martha and Roger’s affair. Maybe she could tell her more about the affair and the relationship Martha had with Randall. So far, Abigail had only heard whispers. Randall had sounded like a less than ideal husband, maybe borderline abusive, but Martha was such a nice lady. Abigail couldn’t believe she’d killed her husband, no matter how bad a man Randall had been.

  The door flew open, and Miranda stood in front of Abigail, arms crossed over her chest. “Are you going to continue staring at the office, or are you coming in?” she asked, her voice harsh.

  Abigail winced. “I’m sorry. I was lost in my thoughts.”

  Miranda rolled her eyes and turned around. “Didn’t know you had any of those.”

  Abigail followed her inside and did her best not to snap at Miranda. Now that she was here, she might as well do this and be on her way.

  “I’m not going to ask if your aunt changed her mind and is ready to sell the shop,” Miranda said.

  Abigail was grateful because that wasn’t why she was here. “She hasn’t. She’s happier than ever to get back to work once her cast is removed.”

  Miranda sat behind the desk that was obviously hers. The door of the office in which Randall had been found was closed, and it looked like it had stayed closed since the chief of police and his people had been here. The yellow tape was still in place across it, although someone had tried to hide it by putting a few plants around the door.

  It hadn’t worked.

  “What do you want, then?” Miranda asked.

  Abigail sucked in a breath. She didn’t know how to say this. “Was Martha really arrested for Randall’s murder?”

  Miranda blinked, and Abigail hadn’t realized her expression could harden even more. It did, though, and she glared at Abigail. “You’re one of those vultures, aren’t you? You want to know what happened and you don’t care how asking your questions make me feel.”

  “I want to know what happened because I don’t think Martha did anything.”

  Miranda snorted. “Why not? It’s not like you know her. You don’t, and you didn’t know Randall. You don’t know anyone in town, not anymore. You lost all of that when you moved to the city.”

  Miranda was bitter. Almost everyone in high school had had the dream of leaving the town behind, of leaving and making a life for themselves. Not everyone had managed, and not all of those who had stayed were happy about it. Lee didn’t seem to have a problem with it, although that might be because he’d experienced life outside the town. Miranda, on the other hand, had never left, and she seemed to resent Abigail for that.

  Abigail wanted to tell her that living in the city wasn’t as wonderful as they’d thought as teenagers. It wasn’t glamorous, and it didn’t mean you were happy. She hadn’t been, far from it. She’d been happier since she’d come back to her hometown than she had been in years in the city.

  She said none of that, though. She didn’t want to give Miranda even more ammunition, although she would be surprised if Miranda hadn’t heard about Kevin.

  “Don’t you want to know who did it?” she asked.

  Miranda shook her head. “I don’t care.”

  That seemed harsh even for Miranda. “He was your boss. I thought you would care about him.”

  “No one cared about Randall, not really. He wasn’t a good man. He promised me a promotion, then acted as if he never said anything when I confronted him about it.”

  That confirmation gave Miranda a motive to kill Randall. They might have been talking about it the night Randall had been killed. If Miranda had been angry enough, she could have grabbed the paperweight and hit him on the back of the head.

  Miranda slammed her hands on her desk and rose from her chair. “You think I did it.”

  Abigail shook her head. “I never said that.”

  “But you don’t think Martha did anything, and I’m the best suspect you have, aren’t I? Because I have a motive. I just told you about it. I had the means because I work here, and I would have known when Randall would be in the office. I have a key. I could have come and killed him while he was working.”

  Abigail crossed her arms over her chest. “You sound like you want me to believe you did it.”

  Miranda stared at her for a moment, then her shoulders slumped, and she sat back down. “I don’t care what you think, Kinsman. We’re not friends, and we never will be. I didn’t kill him, though. I was angry, yes. He promised me a promotion, and I worked hard to earn it. It should have been mine because I deserved it. I should have gotten a raise and more responsibilities. Instead, he acted like I was crazy. He tried to manipulate me into thinking he never suggested such a thing. So yes, I didn’t like him much. That doesn’t mean I killed him. Besides, Martha and Roger were both arrested. It has to be one of them.”

  “Roger has an alibi,” Abigail pointed out.

  “That doesn’t mean he didn’t have anything to do with this. If Martha killed Randall, then Roger knew. They probably planned it together.”

  “You think they would do something like that’”

  “I don’t see why not. They’re lovers. They’ve been for years. Randall didn’t know, but I did.”

  Abigail found that hard to believe. She hadn’t liked Randall, but he hadn’t struck her as an idiot “It could be someone else. I know he didn’t pay his debts.”

  Miranda hesitated. “I don’t want to ask how you found out. I don’t care, but yes. You’re right. He didn’t pay his debts. He had people work for him, and then he brushed them off when they asked for payment.”

  “And you told that to the police?”

  “I did. You think I’m an idiot? I knew they would suspect me sooner or later if I didn’t give them anything else to work with.”

  “What else did you tell them?”

  “I told them about the affair between Martha and Roger.”

  She didn’t seem to regret it, not the way Abigail had. Abigail was relieved, though. She’d told Chief Holden about the affair, but apparently, she hadn’t needed to. He’d already known.

  It wasn’t her fault Martha had been arrested.

  She didn’t have any new information, but she did feel better about what had happened. Now, she needed to find a way to get Martha out of jail. The fact that she hadn’t been the one to put her there didn’t matter. An innocent woman was in jail, and Abigail had to do something.

  Abigail’s next step was to find out whether or not Dewey, and possibly Miranda, had an alibi for the night Randall had died. It wasn’t going to be easy. She wasn’t a police officer, and people didn’t have to talk to her. They especially didn’t have to talk to her about where they were when Randall was killed. She knew that eventually, someone would realize what she was doing, and they would have something to say about it. She wasn’t looking forward to that conversation, but she still felt she had to do this.

  Even though Martha’s arrest hadn’t been her fault, she felt responsible. She didn’t know why. It wasn’t her business, and she owed nothing to Martha. But Aunt Charlotte was making noises about starting to look for the killer again, mostly because she didn’t think Martha had anything to do with it, either, and Abigail was afraid. Whoever the killer was, they didn’t seem to have a problem letting someone else pay for what they’d done. They hadn’t said anything when Roger had been arrested, and so far, they hadn’t said anything about Martha, either. Whoever had killed Randall wasn’t about to confess, and they might still try to shut Aunt Charlotte up if she found anything.

  Abigail had to do something. She could try to talk to Chief Holden, but she already knew he would brush her off. She could mention what Aunt Charlotte was doing, but she doubted it would change anything. Chief Holden apparently thought he’d caught the kill
er. If Martha was behind bars, she wouldn’t be able to do anything to Aunt Charlotte.

  But was she the killer?

  Abigail didn’t think so, and she found herself at a loss. She had two prime suspects, even though she favored one over the other. She wasn’t sure why—Dewey had been perfectly fine when he’d fixed the kitchen sink, while Miranda had hated Abigail since high school. Abigail wanted Miranda to be the killer, but she suspected there were a lot of her own feelings in that. She might not know why Miranda didn’t like her, but she didn’t like Miranda, either. It could be hard to get over that kind of prejudice.

  Which was why she overcompensated and thought Dewey might have done it.

  She was confused. She didn’t like it, and she hated not knowing what was next.

  She knew where to go to get out of her rut, though.

  She headed to the hair salon. That was where one had to go to get news of any kind, and her situation wouldn’t be any different. Hell, the people there would be happy to talk to her about Martha, and hopefully about Dewey and Miranda. Abigail wasn’t about to tell anyone she suspected Martha hadn’t killed Randall, but she thought that at least a few of them agreed with her, and she hoped to be able to play on that.

  She wasn’t sure what she would tell Eunice about being back at the salon. She’d had her hair cut a few days ago, so it didn’t make sense for her to visit again so soon. She would have to come up with an excuse, and fast.

  As soon as she stepped into the salon, all gazes moved to her. She cleared her throat, plastered a smile on her lips, and moved toward Eunice. “Hi. I was wondering if I could book an appointment.”

  Eunice looked at Abigail’s hair. “You don’t like the haircut?”

  “Oh, it’s not that. I was wondering if maybe I should color it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Bernice Caldwell, who was sitting under one of the hairdryers, asked. “Your hair is so beautiful.”

  Abigail wasn’t sure she shared that opinion. Her hair was brown. She didn’t hate it, but she didn’t think it would be a scandal to color it. “You think?” she asked, smiling at the woman.