Nightmares Can Be Murder (A Dream Club Mystery) (14 page)

“Yes, it is. But how was Chico involved in this? I don’t understand.” Ali’s voice faltered.

“Chico was in negotiations with the two brothers who own this building. They’ve been interested in selling for a long time, and Chico jumped on the opportunity.” As Gina spoke, I glanced around the tiny kitchen with the outdated appliances and the chipped Formica countertop. It was hard to imagine this being a golden “opportunity” for anyone.

“How did your sister know—” Ali said, and then quickly switched gears. “How would Chico have the money to buy up a building? I thought he was just scraping by with the dance studio.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “He worked twelve hours a day, but the studio wasn’t a gold mine. I figured Chico just made expenses and maybe a little extra to pay you.”

Gina snorted. “Chico had a lot of disposable income, but not from the dance studio. I don’t know where he got his money, but I bet the police are looking into it right now.” She kept her gaze locked on Ali’s face, her own expression serious. “And these buildings would go for a song. They can’t be rehabbed. It would cost a fortune to renovate them and you’d never get your money back.”

“But why would he buy them up?” Ali asked. “None of them are showing a profit. Who would want to buy a failing business?” She kept her tone light, but her lips had thinned into a straight line and her jaw was clenched. I knew she was keeping something back. But what?

“That’s the part I’m not sure about.” Gina paused, her gaze bright and intent. She was wearing a wide enameled bracelet on her wrist and kept fiddling with it. It was blood-red with a black snake curled head to tail. An odd image and yet strangely familiar. Had I seen it before? “You had no idea about any of this? You’re hearing this for the first time?”

“I had absolutely no idea about any of this,” Ali said calmly. She seemed to have gotten herself under control and took a sip of her coffee. “Did Minerva and Rose have a clue this was in the works? I can’t imagine them ever being willing to sell that place. They’ve run it for decades; they have an emotional attachment to it. It’s a family business.”

“A nice sentiment, but if the price is right, everybody is willing to sell.” Gina gave a cynical laugh. “Or maybe Chico had an ace up his sleeve—he might have figured out a way he could pressure them to sell. I’m not sure about the details. All I can tell you is that this information came from a very good source.”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I can tell you that I had no idea about any of his plans.” Ali shifted in her seat, twin spots of color popping out in her cheeks. I glanced up, surprised at the note of defensiveness in her tone. “If I lose this building, my whole business would go under. It would mean the end of everything I’ve worked for.” Tears welled in her eyes, and her voice took on a sad little note. “I don’t how I could survive losing this shop,” she said, looking around the cozy kitchen.” I don’t think I could bear the idea of starting all over again.” She sat back and took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders. “And frankly, I find it a little hard to believe.”

Her gaze was cool and direct, and her voice was steady as she folded her hands calmly on the table. I looked at her finely chiseled profile for a long moment. She was sitting as still as a statue. Her back was ramrod straight, but a tiny muscle was jumping in her jaw and her lower lip was trembling, almost imperceptibly. It was the only flaw I could see in her perfectly composed demeanor. My breath caught in my throat and my spirits sank.

I knew she was lying.

17

The kitchen was silent except for the monotonous ticking sound of the clock cat’s tail swishing back and forth on the wall clock. Gina had finally left, and Ali and I were alone in the kitchen. Ali had her hands wrapped around the mug of coffee, staring into space. She glanced at me briefly, and then looked away. Her eyes were guarded, and I waited for her to explain herself, to confide in me. I studied her face for a full minute, and then I couldn’t keep still a second longer.

“Ali,” I began, “you need to come clean with me. You knew about Chico and his plan to buy up the buildings, I am absolutely positive about this.”

“It was that obvious?” she asked wearily. Her face reddened slightly, and she still refused to look at me directly. “If you picked it up on it, then I guess Gina did, as well.”

I reached across the table and laid my hand lightly over hers. “I think it was only apparent to me,” I told her. “And that’s because we have a history, remember? You and I know things about each other that no one else could possibly figure out. You need to tell me exactly what’s going on here, Ali. I want to help you.”

“It’s complicated,” she said, finally meeting my gaze. “I didn’t want to talk about it earlier because I was too embarrassed. And maybe I was a little ashamed, I don’t know.” She gave a hopeless shrug.

“Embarrassed?” I blinked. I hadn’t been expecting this. “Why were you embarrassed and ashamed?”

“Because I feel like a complete idiot! I found out about the sale quite by accident; a customer who’s on the city planning commission mentioned it. Chico wasn’t even going to tell me. Unbelievable, right? When I confronted him that night, he admitted it. I was going to lose everything, and he didn’t care. How could he be so heartless? And how could I have been so stupid not to see it?” She paused, leaning back in the chair, rubbing her neck as if she was trying to will away the tension she must have been holding in her shoulders.

I was so focused on her obvious distress that I nearly missed a key word. And then it hit me.
That
night. She’d said
that
night. My heart thudded in my chest. “Ali,” I said urgently, “what night? You don’t mean to tell me you were over there the night he died, do you?” One look at her crestfallen expression confirmed it. “Oh my God, you
do
mean that!”

A sharp intake of breath. “I know, it looks awful,” she said, giving me a wounded look. “But I just went over there to talk to him, and I swear he was fine when I left. I was only there for a few minutes while you were taking a shower. I should have said something at the time and now it’s too late.”

I felt like shaking her. “Too late? Ali, of course it’s not too late, but you have to tell the police right now. You can’t wait another minute. Suppose they find out? It makes you look suspicious”—she flinched and I backpedaled—“it makes it look like you’re hiding something.”

“But I’m not lying!” she said quickly and then amended, “Well, I didn’t say that I’d been over there that night, but they didn’t ask me.” She paused, flushing. “Not in so many words, I mean.”

“Ali, you’ve made a terrible error in judgment.” I plunked my elbows on the kitchen table and rubbed my eyes with my hands. I felt a migraine coming on, but this was no time to search for an aspirin.

“What should I do?” she asked in a small voice.

“Come clean,” I snapped. “That’s all you have to do. It’s a no-brainer.” I couldn’t hide my irritation with my kid sister. Ali’s taken the path of least resistance at other times in her life, and it’s always ended badly. I knew I had to step in immediately and insist that she do the right thing this time. “Call Sam Stiles right now.” I reached behind me, grabbed my cell phone from the kitchen counter, and passed it to her.

“It’s late,” she protested. “Suppose she’s sleeping—”

“It’s not that late,” I said sharply. “Tell her you need to see her and set up an appointment for tomorrow. You can go down to the station house first thing in the morning or she can come here.” I locked eyes with her, and she looked vulnerable, frightened. “Either way, you have to do it!”

Ali’s fingers were trembling as she clasped the cell phone. I got up to give Barney and Scout their evening treats. They like a handful of Temptations snacks before going to bed and begin circling around my feet at nine thirty or so to remind me.

Ali stood up and wandered over to gaze out the window, the cell phone clasped to her ear. I refilled their water bowls and heard snatches of conversation. Ali was talking softly, but rapidly, and her voice wobbled a little. It was probably one of the most difficult conversations she had ever had to face. When she finally flipped the lid closed, she turned to me, blowing out a little puff of air.

“Well, it’s set for ten o’clock tomorrow morning,” she said, licking her lips nervously. “And you were right. They want me to come down to the station house.” She stared at me. “That makes it seem more official, doesn’t it?”

I nodded. “I think they’ll take a statement. You might not be talking to Sam; they may figure she’s too close to the case. You’ll probably have to speak with one of the other detectives.”

“I’d rather talk to Sam,” Ali said carefully.

You could have talked to her the night it happened, or last night.
I bit back my angry retort; it was pointless to argue with her. “It’s not up to you at this point,” I said, trying to unclench my jaw. “The captain will make the final decision. All you can do is take a deep breath and tell the truth.”

*   *   *

“So it’s more
complicated than I thought,” I said hesitantly. “I never thought Ali would be a suspect, and of course the whole idea of her committing a murder is ridiculous but . . .” I let my voice trail off as the waitress set a roasted veggie wrap in front of me and a fish and chips platter at Noah’s place.

She scurried away for two sweet teas, and Noah reached over and patted my hand, his eyes locked on mine. “It’s going to be okay,” he said softly.

I thought it might be awkward, having lunch at Oleander with Noah, but instead I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Noah always had a way of making me feel secure; that there was no problem too tough to solve. The two years we’d spent apart hadn’t changed anything. When I’d phoned him last night, suggesting a quick lunch today, he’d immediately agreed.

I filled him in on Chico’s death and brought him up to speed on the investigation. Ali had insisted on going down to the police station by herself, and I glanced nervously at my watch, wondering how the interview was going. Ali had seemed upset this morning, and I knew she would be nervous talking to a detective.

“It’s insane that they think she could be a suspect, right? Anyone who knows Ali knows that she wouldn’t hurt a fly.” I sighed. “She even rescues June bugs and puts them outside on the grass. How many people do you know would do that? Does that sound like a murderer to you?”

“Just because they’re interviewing her doesn’t mean they think she’s a suspect,” Noah pointed out. “She could be a material witness in the case. After all, she was one of the last people to see Chico alive. There might be some details of the crime scene that she could share with the detectives; some clue that no one else has picked up on. It’s too bad she didn’t come forward with this information from the get-go, but that’s water under the bridge.”

“What kind of things could she have noticed?” I had no appetite, but I dutifully picked up my roasted veggie wrap and took a tiny bite. It was delicious.

Noah spread his hands on the table. “Anything,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Maybe she noticed something out of place, or maybe Chico seemed agitated.” He nodded his thanks as the server placed two mason jars of sweet tea on the table. I was beginning to realize that sweet tea is a Savannah staple. “When Ali told you about her visit to Chico, did she mention anything about his state of mind? Did he take any phone calls? Did anyone come to the studio to see Chico while she was there?”

I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. I’m sure they were alone. She didn’t say much about meeting with him. She blurted out the truth to me, and then I insisted that she call Sam Stiles and tell her what happened. And then, just as I predicted, Sam told her to come down to the station house today.” I paused. “I wanted to go with her, but you know how stubborn Ali can be. She wanted to go on her own. Probably not the smartest move, but I couldn’t budge her on this one.”

“That sounds just like Ali,” Noah agreed. “She’s a free spirit, always striking out on her own. She doesn’t like being dependent on anyone.”

“I’m so glad she finally told me about it.” I tried not to think what would have happened if the police had discovered her late-night meeting with Chico on their own.

Noah nodded. “You’re very intuitive, Taylor. There’s always been a special connection between you and Ali. Didn’t you have a gut feeling all along that she was leaving out part of the story?”

“Yes, I did. There was a nagging feeling that I just couldn’t ignore.” I stopped to think for a moment. Noah was right. I’d been trying to quell the uneasy feeling in my stomach that Ali was troubled, and I didn’t think it was because she was heartbroken over Chico. It had to be something else. I smiled at him. “You always said the gut never lies.”

“That’s one thing they drummed into us at Quantico. Trust your instincts. If you think something is wrong, it probably is.” He dipped one of his French fries in ketchup and passed it to me. “You haven’t lost your taste for French fries, have you?”

“Never.” I found myself grinning, in spite of the seriousness of the situation. Our fingers brushed when he handed me the French fry, and I tried to ignore the little buzz of electricity that went through me. I reminded myself to focus on Ali; this wasn’t the time to stroll down memory lane, thinking about what could have been with Noah.

We both tucked into our lunch, and I wondered again about Jennifer Walton and how Noah had happened to be at her party. Maybe it was just a business move? It would be smart to network with some of Savannah’s most prominent movers and shakers if he wanted to get his detective agency off the ground. I couldn’t imagine him being seriously involved with a woman like Jennifer, and unless I was imagining it, he felt the same spark of attraction between us that I did.

Noah was wearing a navy blue Lacoste shirt with khakis, and looked tanned, relaxed. The Savannah lifestyle seemed to agree with him, and I wondered if the move here was permanent. I vaguely remembered that he had family in the area, and I asked him about it.

“Two aunts who practically raised me,” he said. “They’re getting on in years, and when I picked a place to settle, I knew I wanted a warm climate on the East Coast. I figured it would be nice to reconnect with them. Maybe I can help them out a little, just a way of repaying them for everything they did for me. They live right here in Savannah, not far from Ali’s shop.”

“I’d love to meet them,” I said impulsively and then flushed.
What am I doing?
My lunch with Noah was supposed to be devoted to solving Ali’s predicament, not rekindling our relationship. I wanted to bite my tongue, but Noah didn’t seem the least bit taken aback by my suggestion.

“Oh, you will,” he said casually. “I’ve already told them about you, and they want me to bring you and Ali over for Sunday dinner sometime.” He laughed. “Come hungry. They believe in old-fashioned Southern hospitality.”

We talked about inconsequential things then, sharing memories and finishing each other’s sentences. In some ways, it seemed as though we had never been apart. Noah told me about his decision to leave the Bureau, and I told him about Ali’s desperate plea to help her save the shop.

“It’s funny,” I said as the waitress served coffee. “I thought I was coming here for a few weeks, and now I see that I may be here for a long time.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” he said with a devilish glint in his eyes. “If ever you need a tour guide . . .” He let the words hang tantalizingly in the air between us.

“You’re the third person to offer to show me Savannah.” I told him about Caroline and the Harper sisters.

“You sound like you’re settling right in, making connections and finding friends,” he observed. “People are drawn to you, Taylor.”