Double Shot (24 page)

In fact, it occurred to me that Amanda probably knew Dixie. She, too, was a member of the Country Club and Garden Club. And I was quite certain she was working on joining all the et ceteras. For a brief and totally irrational moment, I almost considered calling Amanda to ask about Dixie, but sanity prevailed. I may be scary, but I’m not that scary.

I gave up on Dixie’s social calendar and moved on to Ricky, Jr. And lo and behold, things finally got interesting. Unlike his sister and brother-in-law, this guy actually worked. Ricky Wellington, Jr. was a professor, right there at the University of Clarence. Two years earlier he had been promoted to full professor. In the Anthropology Department.

I cringed at the computer screen and cursed myself. Of all the regulars at the Wade On Inn, why oh why had I chosen to confide in the guy in sandals?

***

Coincidences happen. Heck, they happen all the time in Adelé Nightingale’s stories. I reminded myself of this over and over again on the walk home. So what if Spencer Erring’s brother-in-law happened to be Kevin Cooper’s dissertation advisor?

“Why would this be even remotely significant?” I asked Snowflake the moment I stepped through the door.

“Why would what be significant?”

I jumped ten feet in the air and landed to find Wilson at work in my kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked.

“Gee, it’s nice to see you, too. Don’t you remember I promised you an early dinner tonight?” He held up the package of tagliatelle I had purchased at Wellington Market. “We’re having a vodka cream sauce. I was going to put it over plain old rigatoni, until I found this in your fridge.”

He tapped the label and tilted the package back and forth. “I take it you’ve been to Wellington Market recently?”

“It was just a trip to the grocery store, for Lord’s sake. And you’ll be happy to know I learned absolutely nothing useful. Except how to spend tons of money on unnecessary non-essentials.”

I walked over to the drawer where I had hidden the cat toys and dug them out. “These are for Wally and Bernice.” I put two of the organic catnip chewies on the counter. “And this one’s for you, madam.” I nodded to Snowflake and tossed her the third.

She looked extremely pleased and hopped down to inspect further. But, entertaining as she was, rolling around in ecstasy with her new toy, Wilson hadn’t forgotten his original question.

“So what’s not remotely significant?” he asked.

I hesitated but could think of no reason not to divulge my latest discovery. So I did.

“You Googled Ricky Junior?” Wilson shook his incredulous head at me. “Why?”

“Why not?” I asked. “Did you know about this, Wilson? Do you think it’s significant?”

“Yes, I knew. And no, I doubt it means anything. Clarence is a small city, Jessie. Coincidences happen.”

“There, you see?” I asked Snowflake, but the cat was still busy with her new toy.

Like the cat, Wilson was also in performance mode. He fired up the sauté pan, literally. Not only is this particular sauce delicious, it’s also entertaining. He actually ignites the vodka for a few seconds during the prep.

“Have you found Bobby Decker?” I asked once the flames had subsided.

“Yep. He’s home now.”

“Thank God. I’m sure Karen will be relieved.”

Wilson raised an eyebrow. “Unless of course she’s right, and he’s the killer.”

“Where was he?”

“Everywhere. Officer Richardson never did locate him last night, but his car was spotted late this morning at Hastie’s Diner, and then he did errands all over town. Laundry, the post office—”

“Hastie’s?” I interrupted. “Is that significant?”

“I don’t know. I had a couple of officers following him, but I told them not to stop him for questioning. After all, he didn’t break any laws by not showing up at the bar last night, or by eating at Melissa’s place of employment today.”

I thought about it. “Does Bobby have a place of employment?”

“Construction off and on. He’s actually worked for A and B. Nothing steady, though.”

“Oh?” I asked in a meaningful tone, but Wilson shook his head.

“Coincidences, Jessie. They happen.”

“Well, I am glad he’s okay,” I said. “And if he shows up at the Wade On Inn tonight, I intend to find out why he wasn’t there yesterday.”

“Jessie.” Wilson used his most ominous cop-voice. “There’s a reason we didn’t question Decker today. We don’t want to make the guy paranoid, right?”

“Yes, sir, Captain Rye.”

He waited until I stopped smirking. “Don’t do anything stupid tonight. Stay safe. You get it?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, sir, Captain Rye.”

He stopped stirring the pasta and studied me. “You haven’t been doing anything stupid today, have you? No more casual visits to potential murderers?”

I tossed my head indignantly and denied getting into any mischief whatsoever. “In fact, I did something rather smart today,” I said. “I told Ian he is no longer welcome here. He’ll have to shower elsewhere.”

“Excellent.” Wilson’s smile was genuine. “Why the change of heart?”

I thought about why, and decided my beau didn’t need to concern himself with the silly details. “Let’s just say, Ian’s a jerk.”

Wilson smiled some more. “Yeah, Jessie. Let’s just say that.”

Chapter 28

Poor Karen was looking a little the worse for wear when she showed up at my door later that evening.

“Are you okay?” I asked as she stumbled inside.

“These late nights are killing me, Jess.” She collapsed onto my couch. “Did Wilson ever find Bobby? I can’t believe I’m actually worried about the guy. And worried he might be the killer. How sick is that?”

I assured her Bobby was safe. “Although the jury’s still out on whether or not he’s our guy. Hopefully he’ll be there tonight, and you can find out.”

“Oh boy,” she said and sank further into the cushions. “Don’t hate me, but I’m kind of relieved tonight is it.”

I had to agree, and we were comparing the dark circles under our eyes when Candy arrived. It had been her day off, so she, of course, was well-rested and raring to go. Indeed, she was so optimistic as to inform us that Puddles was now completely housebroken.

“One hundred and ten percent!” she said and proudly reported that Puddles hadn’t piddled inside in over ten hours. “Ten hours!” The woman was positively gleeful until she took a long, hard look at the two of us slumped on the couch.

“Gosh,” she said, trying to maintain her smile. “An extra layer of mascara will do you both good.” She pulled Karen up—no easy feat—and steered her toward my dressing table.

“With an extra layer of mascara, we could probably tackle world peace,” Karen mumbled as Candy eased her forward.

“Or at least solve the energy crisis,” I suggested as I followed behind.

Testimony on how tired she was, Karen actually sat still and silent, and allowed Candy to perform her magic. And of course she perked right up when it came time to select my jewelry for the evening. She and Candy decided to adorn me in scads of sterling silver and turquoise for my final night at the Wade On Inn.

“I’ve never been crazy about the southwestern look,” I said to no avail as Candy slipped the fourth or fifth bracelet onto my wrist. “And these big bracelets might mess up my game.”

“Nothing messes up your game, Jessie.” Candy concentrated on securing a difficult clasp.

Karen was also unsympathetic. She fished out three gigantic turquoise rings from Candy’s jewelry box and was clearly pleased when they fit a few of my fingers.

“Wake me up when we’re ready,” she said. She lay back on my bed and promptly commenced snoring.

“She’s going to ruin her mascara doing that,” Candy told me and began examining my own face. I tried not to notice the frown. “Maybe a little extra concealer under your eyes tonight?” she suggested.

I told her to have at it. And while she applied considerable time, effort, and concealer to my face, I thought about my most recent conversation with Kevin Cooper.

“So,” I broached the subject. “I’ve been thinking about the murders.”

“Me, too.” Candy brushed some blush onto Eddie Munster’s cheekbones.

“And I think your original theory has a lot of merit, Sweetie.”

She stood back and assessed her work thus far. “You mean about Spencer?”

I nodded. “I think he’s our most likely candidate.”

“No.” Candy came at me with the mascara wand. “I’m just sure it was Kevin.” I cringed, and she scolded me to hold still. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, okay?”

I used the logic Kevin had earlier, and argued that Spencer had known about the murder weapon, but was feigning ignorance. “Why would he lie?” I blinked before Candy got to that second coat. “Unless he was trying to look innocent?”

“But, Jessie,” she asked. “Why are you so sure he did know about the gun?”

“Umm.” I blinked again. “I think Kevin Cooper may have mentioned it.”

Candy tut-tutted in disapproval. “That would be just like him, wouldn’t it? I bet he’s trying to pin this on Spencer. Those smart, quiet guys can be so tricky.” She caught my eye in the mirror, waiting for verification.

“Kevin might be a bit, umm, fishy?”

“Exactly!” She offered a satisfied nod at my reflection, and as she finished my face, I was left wondering about Kevin Cooper. Again.

Had the guy ever point blank told me he didn’t kill Angela? Or had he just cleaned his stupid glasses every time I asked about it? And why did I have to keep learning these interesting little tidbits about him, piece, by slow, painful piece. He was fishy, darn it.

Candy misunderstood when I groaned out loud. “Don’t worry, Jessie. I’m done.” She screwed the top onto the mascara and announced me “Ready.”

Karen caught the word and sat up. “You look nice, Jess,” she said through a yawn.

I waited until she was fully coherent.

“Okay, so you look ready,” she corrected herself.

***

Much to my chagrin, Candy continued discussing Kevin Cooper’s guilt on the drive out. Hoping to distract her, I pulled out a bundle of cash and laid it on her lap.

“Oh my gosh!” she said. “Where did this come from?”

I explained she was looking at about a quarter of our winnings from the week. “I left the rest at home, but we’ve been doing quite well.”

Karen stopped at a red light and glanced down at the wad of bills. “Holy moly, girlfriend. I had no idea you were winning that kind of money.”

I shrugged. “After we pay back the original five hundred to the Clarence Police Department, we’ll split the rest in thirdsies.”

“Split it?” she protested. “No way, Jess. You’re the pool shark. Not Kiddo and me.”

“We didn’t earn this, Jessie.” Candy handed me back the stack of bills. “It’s all yours.”

I argued that they, too, had done their fair share of the work at the Wade On Inn, but still couldn’t persuade them to split our winnings evenly.

“Okay, so how about this?” I said as Karen turned onto Belcher Drive. “I’ll take half and you two get a quarter each. Fair enough?”

It took some coaxing, but they finally agreed, and we were planning one heck of a shopping spree at Tate’s when Karen steered the truck into the rutted parking lot of the Wade On Inn.

I glimpsed Henry Jack guarding the doorway. “We need to stop pussy-footing around and find the murderer, ladies.”

“Tonight.” Candy reached over and squeezed my hand.

“What have we got to lose?” Karen agreed as we climbed out of the truck. “Even if we blow our cover, it’s now or never, right?”

I decided not to mention that I had already blown my cover to Candy’s prime suspect, hoisted my cue case over my shoulder, and smiled stalwartly at Henry.

***

By that point we had the routine down pat. Karen didn’t even need to tell me we were listening to the Wicket Brothers, or how much she loved their stuff. She simply grabbed the bouncer’s willing hand, and onto the dance floor they went.

Candy wished me luck at the pool table and tottered away to find her spot between Mackenzie Quinn and the Red-Headed Ogler.

I waved to Elsa, who smiled back, winked at Goldilocks, who frowned, and tried to move along to my own appointed station. I was dodging a particularly inspired pirouette by the lone Drunken Dancer when Mr. Leather and Chains jumped in front of me. Apparently he was also a creature of habit. We went through our usual rigmarole, and eventually I reached the pool table.

Discussing my jewelry became the first order of business. Ethel and Doreen were impressed. I mean, who wouldn’t be?

“They have turquoise in Hawaii?” Doreen asked. “I thought that was Texas.”

“More of my friend’s things,” I said, and fondled my necklace in a Sarina Blyss-like manner. “It’s too bad,” I lied, “but I won’t be able to borrow Candy’s jewelry after tonight.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going home already?” Melissa looked disappointed, especially when I made up a time that I needed to be at the airport the next morning.

“The old man will miss you, Tessie.” Bless his heart, Avis Sage seemed truly sad.

Even Ethel agreed. “I’ve won a tidy sum betting on you, my girl.”

“Look on the bright side,” Doreen argued. “With Tessie gone we’ll have one less woman to compete with.” She poked her cane into Spencer’s adorable behind, but of course his attention was focused across the room at Candy.

“What about your friend?” he asked me without moving his eyes. “Will she be back?”

“I doubt it.”

“She doesn’t like it here?” Melissa was clearly perplexed at the notion.

I considered Candy, who was giggling conspiratorially with Mackenzie. “She likes the Quinns, but she’s not all that interested in the workings of the pool game.”

I waved in Karen’s direction. “And Karen loves the music. But it’s a long drive from downtown just to hear the Wicket Brothers.”

“The old man will miss you,” Avis repeated, and we started the evening off with our usual warm up match to three. While we lagged for the break he suggested that someday he might visit Honolulu. “We’ll play on your turf, Tessie. Wouldn’t that be something?”

I agreed that playing Avis Sage in Honolulu would indeed be something, and fell into a funk thinking that the old man’s days of shooting pool anywhere were likely numbered. While I was busy feeling forlorn, Avis won our match. He then took on a semi-regular, and I stepped back from the table to console Melissa, who was also in a funk.