Peril for Your Thoughts (Mind Reader Mystery) (10 page)

Taking a deep breath, I found the cleanest spot I could, laid my coat over it, and gingerly sat, careful not to touch anything more than I had to. Maybe if we talked things through, we could figure out a way to escape. There was no way I could handle an entire night in this place.

“Fine,” I finally said. “I went to Vixen to speak with Anastasia Stewart.”

“I know,” he said, not sounding the least bit surprised. “I tailed you.”

I gasped. “That is a complete invasion of my privacy.”

“Turnabout is fair play.” He shrugged. “Keep invading my case, and everything’s fair game, including your privacy. Now, you were saying?”

You’re a big buffoon
, is what I wanted to say, but growing up in my family had taught me to bite my tongue more than once. “I’m just trying to help, Detective. You were already looking into Johnny Hogan, and you knew I talked to Maria Danza.” I wasn’t about to tell him our suspicions regarding his partner, Boomer Matheson, but I could share the only other suspect we could think of. “Jaz and I both agreed that other than a jilted ex-lover or angry other woman, the person in town who would most want to see her locked up and out of the way would be her main competition in the business world, Anastasia Stewart.”

“Agreed.”

I blinked. “Wait, you agree with me?”

“Like I said, if you would have a little patience and let me do my job, you would realize I’m not completely incompetent.”

“I never said that.”

He arched a thick black eyebrow. “You didn’t have to. Your actions speak volumes.”

I bit my bottom lip and tried not to look guilty. “Okay, you go first, and I promise I’ll share what I know.”

He studied me for what felt like forever, then seemed to make up his mind about something.

“Deal,” he finally said. “Maria Danza didn’t just see Jaz and Wilcox from her shop across the street. Her pastry flour fingerprints were on the front window of Full Disclosure, and we have surveillance footage of her crossing the street just before Jaz shut off her cameras. Maria claims she went over to see if she could get a look at Jaz’s latest conquest, but she couldn’t see anything because they had already gone upstairs.”

“I knew there was more to her story,” I said. “And with the cameras off, there’s no proof that she wasn’t the one who went back in.”

“Exactly,” he continued. “I also looked into Ms. Stewart’s finances and phone records. She made several transactions lately to the same anonymous account, and there were a number of phone calls to the same unlisted number. Whomever she was dealing with did not want to be found out. The question is why.”

“The fashion world is very competitive.”

“I’m beginning to see that.”

“Jaz and Ana have been competing for customers for years. At one time, Ana’s store was the number one place to shop for high-end clothes in Clearview. As you know, Connecticut isn’t that far from New York City. We have a number of wealthy residents who love nothing more than to spend their money on fashion, but making the trek into the city on a regular basis isn’t always convenient. Having access to the latest trends in fashion right here in town is priceless to them, but they want to know they are getting the best. Once Jaz added my Kalli Originals, she started edging out Ana. Ana didn’t take that lightly, and she’s been trying to find a way to get back on top ever since.”

“The question is: Is she desperate enough to set Jaz up for murder?”

“Women and fashion can be a dangerous mix, and competition can make people do crazy things. All I know for sure is that the outfit in Vixen’s storefront window is the same one that Jaz planned to use to launch her new spring finds. But since Full Disclosure is conveniently closed down for the moment, Anastasia beat Jaz to it. Jaz guards her finds with her life. There is only one way Ana could have known about that outfit.”

“Meaning Jaz has a mole in her company.”

“A mole with a much bigger paycheck as of late, it would seem. So what do we do?”

“We start there … if we ever get out of here, that is.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“I’m not trying to be funny,” he said in a serious tone. “The trouble with moles is they are dark and creepy and don’t like to be found. There’s a reason this mole took great lengths to remain anonymous. Something tells me he or she isn’t above going to great lengths not to be found out.”

“Great lengths like murder?”

The detective didn’t have a chance to answer before the power was cut and the lights went out. I opened my mouth to scream, but the detective’s hand covered my lips and pulled me behind a clothing rack just as the doorknob jiggled. I held my breath and tried not to think about all the places the detective’s hands might have been and focused on the door as it slowly creaked open. The light streamed inside and temporarily blinded us, but one thing was for sure …

We were no longer alone and might very well be in the presence of a cold-blooded killer.

Detective Stevens still held me tight against him, but his hand was no longer over my mouth—thank God, because who knew where it had been—as we hid behind the clothing rack in the storage room of Full Disclosure, awaiting our fate. The room was pitch black. With the loss of sight, my other senses came alive. I could smell his musky scent and feel his heart beating in time with mine. It still amazed me I wasn’t completely freaked out by touching him. That wasn’t to say I felt comfortable, but at least he didn’t make my skin crawl. And that had never happened before. A step in the right direction, but I wasn’t getting my hopes up. In my experience the only man who had the patience to deal with my quirks was Max, but I could never get out of the friend zone with him.

Thank God Nik was too focused to have any thoughts about me right now because I was terrified to know what he really thought about me. The doorknob rattled once more, bringing me back to the gravity of the situation we were in. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. What if the person on the other side of the door really was the killer?

As though reading my thoughts, he whispered, “It’s going to be okay, Kalli. I might not have my phone, but I’m always packing.” He unsheathed his weapon.
Get it together, Stevens. Both your lives depend on you keeping your cool.

This time hearing his thoughts actually comforted me. Knowing he was afraid as well somehow made him seem more human. More approachable.

“I’m not worried, Detective. I believe in you,” I responded in an equally quiet whisper and felt him relax. I could feel his confidence, which is exactly what I needed as the door creaked open.

“Freeze!” a feminine voice commanded.

“What the hell are you doing?” a male voice hissed. “I said to wait for me. Do you ever listen to anyone?”

“Jaz?” I sputtered.

“Detective Matheson?” Nik boomed at the same time.

The blinding beam from a flashlight shot straight into our eyes. “Kalliope Ballas, what in the world are you doing in my storage room? I could have shot your head off.”

“How? Your gun is supposedly missing, or is there something you want to tell me?” Boomer countered in a snarky voice, earning the beam of light to be leveled on him now.

I blinked the stars out of my eyes and considered the pair. Jaz’s hair hung long and loose in thick honey-brown curls. She had on a cute designer dress in several shades of purple, with matching heels, full makeup, and jewelry to boot. She’d said that morning that if she dressed like she normally would, then maybe her life would get back to normal quicker. Boomer wore jeans like Nik, but he opted for a brown leather jacket rather than a sport coat, bringing out the lighter tones in his russet hair. Unlike Nik, who towered over me, Boomer stood eye to eye with Jaz.

“Last time I checked
you
still had a gun,” Jaz responded. “Keep messing with me and I might just shoot your head off.”

He let his hands hover over his weapon as he leaned into her. “Is that a threat?”

“I don’t make threats, darlin’.” She thrust her face even closer to his. “I make promises, and I’m nothing if not true to my word.”

“Hey, Pebbles and BamBam, you’re giving me a headache. Can you play nice in the sandbox for two seconds so we can figure this thing out?” Nik let go of me and rolled to his feet.

“I agree. Let’s all call a truce and get out of here; we can talk out in the shop. I’m getting claustrophobic.” I stood as well, smoothing the dust and Lord knew what else off my skirt, then made a beeline for the center of the store before anyone could change their minds.

My skin was most definitely crawling now.

Jaz was the first person to reach me, followed quickly by Boomer, and then Nik bringing up the rear. It was still light outside, but Jaz turned the power back on and reset her alarm. We sat on the two sofas near the fitting rooms. For a moment, we all just stared at each other like we didn’t have a clue where to start.

I finally broke the silence. “Jaz, how did you know I was here? Even more confusing is how you ended up here with Detective Matheson? And why on earth did you cut the power?”

“I cut the power so my alarm would stop and no one else would show up. Besides, I wanted the advantage with you two in the dark. You know I keep my treasures in that room. I can’t risk anyone finding my steals and launching them first, so when my secret alarm went off, I tried to call you. I couldn’t reach you, so I called Detective Stevens. When I couldn’t reach him, I had no other choice. So please answer me this: What on earth are
you
doing here, and with Detective Stevens no less?”

“You’re not going to like this,” Detective Stevens interjected. “You have a mole.”

“I have several, thanks to my mother’s side of the family, but thanks for noticing.” Jaz covered her cheek. “Gee, Detective, way to make a lady self-conscious.”

“Trust me, Ms. Alvarez, you have nothing to be self-conscious about. I was talking about the other kind of mole.”

“Ewww, the kind that burrow into the ground?” She shuddered and lifted her feet off the floor to curl her legs beneath her as she began to nervously eye every nook and cranny in the store. “I knew I shouldn’t have bought such an old building.”

“Jaz, this is not one of your finer moments,” Boomer said with a snort while shaking his head.

“Pipe down, Beefcake,” she snapped at him, then turned to me. “What the hell are you all talking about?”

“Jaz, honey,” I said carefully. “I was here making sure your treasures were still in place, and verifying what I feared most.” I paused and took a fortifying breath before blurting, “Anastasia launched the exact same outfits you were going to.”

“Wait, what? When? How?” We all just stared at her, and then she smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Oh my God, I have a mole.”

“Really? What gave you the clue?” Boomer asked sarcastically, and Jaz lunged at him, falling off the sofa.

“Detective Matheson, can I have a word with you in private?” Detective Stevens pulled him to his feet and they walked off to the side just in time while I intercepted Jaz before she tried to strike again.

“That man makes me crazy,” she said as I helped her to her feet, but then I heard,
Dammit, why do I let him get to me? Why do I care? Why the hell do I still miss the idiot?

“I know the feeling. But if we don’t all work together, we’re never going to get anywhere in solving this case. Put your feelings aside and call a truce already.”

“Easier said than done,” she huffed, shrugging my hand off her shoulder as she sat back down. “And quit reading my mind. That’s not fair.” She blew out a breath. “All right. I’ll try, that’s all I can promise.”

“Thank you.” I took my seat once more.

The men rejoined us in the cozy seating area next to the dressing rooms, with Boomer appearing flushed as though he’d just had a stern talking to. He shot a quick look at Detective Stevens, who hardened his jaw and nodded. Boomer refused to look at Jaz, but he managed to mumble, “Sorry,” and then took the seat by me on the burgundy microfiber sofa.

Detective Stevens removed a decorative pinstriped pillow, joined Jaz on the matching loveseat and said, “Can you think of anyone who could possibly be the mole?”

“Well, it could be one of my employees. I have a girl who is majoring in fashion design that works around her college classes. There’s also my cleaning crew. They are here alone after hours. They all would have access to my treasures, I suppose. I just can’t see any of them as traitors.”

“What about the UPS guy?” I asked. “He delivers to both Full Disclosure and Vixen. He might not be able to see inside the boxes, but he would for sure be able to see where your boxes come from.”

“I never thought of that. He’s always flirted with me, but I’ve always blown him off.”

“Shocker,” Boomer muttered. After Nik glared at him, he added, “It’s a shocker you never thought of that.”

“This is a nightmare,” Jaz said more to herself than any of them, sounding stressed and genuinely upset.

Boomer hesitated, then sighed. “I talked to the widow, and from what she told me, we just might be looking in the wrong direction.”

“What do you mean?” Nik asked.

“I mean Darrin aka Scott had quite the past.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” Jaz asked.

“That the killer might not have been after you at all, princess. It’s very possible that the killer could have been one of Scott’s enemies. We don’t just have a mole, we could very well have a dangerous outsider in our midst.”

Thursday morning I drove all over Clearview looking for the widow Wilma Parks. Detective Stevens and Jaz had agreed to work together, trying to come up with leads on the mole angle, while Detective Matheson and I were supposed to concentrate on Darrin’s possible enemies. Boomer had said to start with the widow, so that’s what I did. Nik had taken one for the team to keep the peace, leaving me to deal with Boy Wonder. Boomer had told me to wait for him. That he needed to do some work at the station and then he would call me. Not one to sit idle, I had ventured out on my own, but to no avail. I did learn one thing, though …

My car got lousy gas mileage.

I was just about to head home when I rounded the corner and saw Wilma coming out of Newcomer Funeral Home. I pulled over and parked at the curb, then waited a moment. No one else came out to join her. She turned toward my car, and I gasped over what she held in her hands.

An urn.

I knew for a fact this cavernous funeral home held a crematorium in the back. What I hadn’t realized was the coroner must have finished his autopsy and released the body to the next of kin, aka his wife. Why have him cremated here with no friends or family around? Why not take him home? Granted, it was cheaper to carry an urn on a plane or train, rather than pay to ship the body, but what about her daddy? She had said he had plenty of money. Nothing was making sense.

I got out of my car and slowly approached her. The last thing I wanted was to startle her and have her drop Scott all over the sidewalk. “Mrs. Parks, how nice to see you doing better,” I said as I approached her.

She stopped and blinked at me. “I just cremated my husband, and you call that better?”

“Oh, well, I mean … I just meant … your color looks better.”

“Extreme heat tends to do that to a person,” she said dryly, looking and sounding much less mousy than the first time I’d met her.

The question was, who was the real Wilma?

“I really meant no offense, and I truly am terribly sorry for your loss.”

She seemed a bit pacified after that. “Thank you,” was all she said.

“I couldn’t help notice you’re alone,” I said quietly with real sympathy in my voice.

She glanced at the funeral home, and then back at me. “I was married for five years, but sadly, felt more alone then. At least now Scott will be with me all the time.”

Creepy
. “If you don’t mind me saying so, why not wait to cremate him until you got home, surrounded by family and friends?”

The stiffness in her slight shoulders was evident beneath her drab gray dress. “My personal affairs and how I choose to grieve are my business, Ms. Ballas. But if you must know, I wanted Scott’s cremation to be private, just between the two of us. It felt more personal and special that way, but I will have a ceremony once I return.”

“Once again, I meant no offense.” I was really awful at this whole investigating thing. “When do you plan to return home?”

She raised her eyebrow at me like she couldn’t believe my gall.

“I mean, in case you need anything at all. I am at your disposal.”

“I’m not leaving until tomorrow, but don’t call me … I’ll call you,” she said with an edge to her tone, her message loud and clear.

Conversation over.

“Alrighty then. I’ll be on my way.” I waved, but she didn’t budge.

I got in my car and drove away, but parked down the street around the corner. Then I doubled back to hide in the bushes, as close as I dared without being seen. Wilma was still there. She just stood there, standing alone on the sidewalk, holding the urn. I was close enough to see her frown down at the urn, looking like anything except a grieving widow. She looked angry and a little crazed.

Maybe she was waiting for a cab. I should have offered her a ride, but somehow I doubted she would have taken me up on it. She kept checking her watch and looking back at the doors to the funeral home. Finally, a man walked out and down the steps to join her on the street with his back to me. She didn’t look surprised, like maybe she knew him, but she didn’t look happy either. They started talking and it was evident by their gestures they were arguing. I studied him closer, but couldn’t see his face, though his body looked familiar. When the man turned around, I opened my mouth to let out a scream.

But the scream never came.

A large hand clapped over my lips and yanked me out of the bushes on the other side so we stayed hidden. My body immediately revolted, squirming and tingling with the heebie jeebies. Not that this man was dirty. He smelled quite nice, in fact, of a spicy aftershave. But he wasn’t Nik, and that was the problem. If I had any doubts before, I didn’t now. Touching Detective Stevens was most definitely a unique experience for me, because obviously with everyone else I still had an issue.