Seams Like Murder (14 page)

“I was going to have chamomile. It’s good when you’re wired. Does that work for you?”

“A shot of scotch works, too. Chamomile tea sounds a little wimpy.”

“If you want scotch . . .” I made a move to go check the dining room. Charlie had always kept a stocked bar, and it was all still there. Barry stood up from his cleanup work abruptly.

“I’d be happy to try the tea.”

A few minutes later we each carried a mug of steaming tea into the living room.

“Thank you for bailing Dinah and me out,” I said.

Barry let out a mirthless laugh. “Hold off on the gratitude. I was really thinking of all the time and paperwork a trip to station would have generated. And it would have ended with the same result: the two of you being let go.” I checked his expression to see if he was joking, but he was all serious cop.

“Okay, then I’m taking my thank-you back,” I said, teasing.

“But you still owe me,” he said, ignoring my joke.

“How do you want to be paid?” I asked, all serious myself this time.

“I think you know.” He waited until I’d positioned myself at the end of the leather couch, and he took a seat at the other end of it. “Information—and all of it.” Barry was trying to be stern and full of authority, even though Cosmo jumped on the sofa and flopped across his lap.

“You can stop with the authority voice,” I said, setting out coasters for the mugs of tea. “It just seems ridiculous since we have a history.”

He blinked a few times, as if he was processing what I said, and then he let out a sigh. He looked tired and wary. “Are you playing the ‘we’re friends’ card to get out of talking?”

“Oh please, Barry, give me more credit than that. I don’t need a ‘card’ to get out of talking.”

“You’ve changed since you started hanging out with Fields,” he said.

“Changed? How?” I asked.

He took his time answering. Barry was never rash. “I’m not sure what it is, but you never would have said that whole thing about not needing a card before. You might have thought it, you might have even answered my questions with questions, but you wouldn’t have been so up front about it.” He picked up the mug and looked down at the greenish liquid.

“Maybe it’s from hanging around Mason, but it could be because I’m the assistant manager at the bookstore now and it’s made me tougher.”

“Right. You did mention that before.” He set the mug down, and I watched all the friendliness leave his face as he went back to cop mode. “Let’s just forget we know each other and get on with this.”

“Sure,” I said.

“So then, Mrs. Pink, tell me what you and your associate, Mrs. Lyons, were doing wandering around in CeeCee Collins’s yard.”

“Mrs. Pink? Mrs. Lyons? Are you kidding? Even with your authority face, I still know it’s you.”

“Are you deliberately trying to make this difficult?” he asked.

“I don’t think so. But this whole setup feels very strange. Doesn’t it feel strange to you, considering our past?”

Barry said no too quickly. “Just tell me what you two were up to.”

“Nothing. We were just checking out the yard.”

Barry made a disgruntled groan. “You know I’m not going to buy that. I know you two were looking for something. Save us both a lot of time and just tell me.”

“I probably should take the fifth. You could use the information against me.”

“I promise I won’t if you tell me right now, Molly.” I hesitated a moment, and he shook his head with consternation. “Thank heavens most people I interrogate aren’t as difficult as you.” I thought I saw just the faintest hint of a smile.

“Fine. You want to know what we were doing?” I gave him the whole story, starting with being in my yard and finding an old gate along the back of it, and how it made me wonder about CeeCee’s.

Barry interrupted. “You should put some kind of a lock on it. Otherwise someone could just wander into your yard.”

“I don’t think so. You didn’t see the condition of it. Anyway, it made me think there might be a forgotten gate at CeeCee’s.” I told him how I’d found the remnant of a driveway and used it to locate the hidden entryway. Was it my imagination or did Barry look uncomfortable? Probably because he realized his guys had missed it. “The one in my yard was old and rusted and wouldn’t open. The one in CeeCee’s yard moved freely, like someone had used it frequently. I’m sure you see how this opens up new possibilities of how Delaney Tanner ended up in the guest quarters—just in case you were focusing on CeeCee as some kind of suspect. Delaney could have even come in on her own.”

He scribbled something down on his notepad.

“Don’t be too upset your crack team missed it. The fence is hidden by greenery on the inside and outside,” I said. “The way I see it, you now owe me since I handed over such a big piece of information.” Barry actually laughed.

“Okay, but next time you have some kind of hunch, call me. What do you want to know?”

“What was it—an accident, suicide or foul play? And what was the cause of death?”

“It’s still inconclusive. And it looks like the cause of death was probably carbon monoxide poisoning.”

“Then I was right,” I said with a note of triumph in my voice.

“Yes,” he said, almost choking on the word.

“It might be inconclusive, but you must have some cop gut hunch about what happened,” I said in a friendly voice.

He cocked an eyebrow as he looked at me. “Maybe I do, but I’m not sharing. That’s it. We’re even now.” He picked up his mug of tea to show he was done talking. We sat there drinking in silence for a few minutes, and I felt calmed by
the quiet. I remember setting down the mug and leaning back against the soft leather cushion. The next thing I knew I was opening my eyes and sun was streaming in through the shutters on the front window. Barry had fallen asleep, too. Cosmo was still on his lap, snoring little dog snores. Worse, Barry was leaning against me.

My movements startled him awake. He sat forward, immediately alert, taking in his surroundings. He coughed a few times and said, “That tea is like knockout drops. I should have taken the scotch. Drinking on duty is not nearly as bad as falling asleep on duty.”

I shrugged it off. “How about some coffee?”

“What happened last night?” Dinah asked when she found me in the yarn department late that morning. I cringed, wondering if she’d developed mind-reading abilities. Much as I tried to put it out of my mind, Barry’s visit kept popping up. Then I realized she was talking about what happened after she’d left me with Mason and Brooklyn. I struggled, trying to remember what we had talked about, but I didn’t really have to worry about answering. Dinah seemed preoccupied and started shaking her head in some kind of internal disbelief before blurting out, “I almost said yes.”

“What?” I said, stopping my work. Boxes of yarn were at my feet, as I’d been loading misty blue mohair into a bin. Once the classes started, I expected a lot of that kind of yarn to move, since it was the mainstay of Sheila’s designs. There were a few women who I recognized as regular customers gathered at the table. I laughed inwardly, glad that Adele was off in the kids’ department, because the women were
all knitting. They were lost in their clicking needles and conversation and paid no attention to us.

“You didn’t, though?” I asked warily, glad to ignore her original question about the previous night’s activities.

Dinah usually looked well put together, accenting whatever she was wearing with a couple of long scarves, but this morning it appeared that she had been preoccupied when she got dressed, and there wasn’t even one scarf to add a splash of color to her black pantsuit.

“I’m due for a break,” I said. “Let’s get some coffee and you can tell me all about it. And I’ll tell you about last night. Just a hint: I got some more info from Barry.”

Dinah’s eyes lit up as I shoved the yarn back in the box. “Wow! I think I’d rather talk about your stuff,” she said.

“Let’s go to Le Grande Fromage. I want to check the supply of flyers.” It was probably wishful thinking, but I imagined the stacks of papers I’d left in the stores down the street had trickled down to a few last pages. I dropped a new stack in my canvas tote.

Dinah and I made small talk as we left the bookstore. It seemed her students had reached a new low—one of them had tried to turn in his essay as a text.

“He couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t accept it,” she said. “What kind of precedent would that set? You should have seen it.” She stopped long enough to pull out her smartphone. “Actually, you can see it.” She scrolled through a mass of words in the dialog box.

“How can you tell where a paragraph starts?” I asked.

“Exactly. And half the words are in some shortened version.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“The only thing I could do! I texted him back an F.” Dinah threw up her hands. “These students!”

“Let’s go in,” I said as we passed the display window of Luxe, the lifestyle store next to the bookstore.

“Is it the flyers you want to check, or Sheila?” Dinah said.

“Maybe both.” I pushed open the door. I called it a lifestyle store because they sold a little bit of everything, the one common element being that it was all stylish. It smelled wonderful from a mixture of the soaps scented with things like rose geranium and lemon, along with the exotic spices and teas they sold. There wasn’t a lot of any one thing, and the stock was always changing. The only constant was there was always a display of different pieces made by Sheila out where customers could touch them.

Sheila looked up from behind the counter when we walked in. She was writing up a receipt for a customer and gave us a smile. She was more or less the manager of the place.

We hung by the corner near a selection of interesting pottery. “Isn’t it amazing how she can have no problem dealing with customers in here and yet practically have a panic attack when it comes to teaching something that has to be second nature to her?” I said.

“It’s not the same. Just like last night, when people were admiring the finished projects she had on display. Teaching is a whole other thing.”

“Maybe if I give her a pep talk.” I noticed the stack of flyers I had strategically placed near the display of the pieces of her work she had for sale was down to the last few. Sheila finished up with the customer and waved us over.

“I bet the class we added for you is going to be full,” I said as we approached the counter and I pointed out the dwindling supply of flyers. The face she showed off to the customers faded into a distraught expression.

“I have to tell you the truth—I got rid of almost the whole stack. I know I should be happy that our customers were so
excited they could learn how to make a piece in my style.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “But I’m afraid I can’t do it. Don’t you think it’s some kind of omen that when we met at CeeCee’s to rehearse the class we found a dead body?”

“One has nothing to do with the other,” I said, trying to sound airy and light. “Delaney Tanner had nothing to do with any of us. I’m the only one of the group who even knows her.”

Sheila looked worried. “Every time I think about teaching, I just have an image of that woman lying there.”

“We need to try it again. This time, no interruptions,” I said. “You’ll see; you’ll do fine.” Sheila didn’t seem sold. I put down some more flyers and got her to promise that she would leave them out for people to take.

“You almost sounded like you believed it,” Dinah said when we got back outside.

“I do. When Sheila starts talking about the yarn and how she mixes it, she’ll forget about her nerves. I think this class is going to be a game changer for her. She’ll never be the same after.”

“I hope you’re right,” Dinah said as we continued down the street.

“I hope I am, too.” We’d reached the corner. “Finally, they’re open.” I pulled open the door of the nail salon and walked in.

A young woman with long brown hair was reading a book behind a small desk that seemed to serve as reception and cashier. I glanced toward the back. It looked very state-of-the-art with comfortable-looking lime green chairs, which were all empty.

The young woman stuck a bookmark in what she was reading and looked up. “Mrs. Lyons?” she exclaimed in surprise when she saw Dinah. It took my friend a moment before her face lit in recognition.

“You’re in my 2
P.M
. English 101 class. Third seat in the right-hand row,” Dinah said. “That would mean your last name probably starts with a
B
.” Dinah’s eyes moved back and forth, and I imagined that she was trying to remember her class list. “Emily Bergman, right?”

“Yes, that’s me.” She held up the book she was reading. Dinah got all excited when she saw it was one of the extra books she had told the class about. Dinah mostly dealt with students who were trying to avoid studying, so anyone who did extra work stood out—way out.

“Your students are everywhere,” I said, reminding her that one of Delaney’s daughters was a student as well.

After they exchanged some small talk about the class and Emily told Dinah how much she was enjoying it, the girl looked at us. “If you’re here to get a mani or a pedi you’ll have to come back. We’re not technically open yet.” The girl shook her head. “That’s what they want me to call them, but it sounds weird to me. I’d rather say the whole thing—manicure and pedicure.”

“We’re not here for our nails,” I said and held up the flyers. “I work at the bookstore down the street. You might not know this, but all the store owners around here help one another.” I gave her a few examples, like how we let our customers know when the jewelry store had a sale or when Le Grande Fromage had a coupon deal. “We’re holding something called Yarn University, starting next week. We’re still taking sign-ups.” I showed her the copy. “So, can I leave some?”

Emily seemed uncertain. “Maybe you should talk to the owner. He’s in the back.” She gestured toward the area past all the lime green chairs.

Dinah stepped in. “Emily, there’s no reason to bother him. We’ll just leave some, and if there’s a problem, you can toss them.”

“Thanks,” I said to Dinah when we were back on the street. “That was a much quicker way to handle things. And if we asked the owner, he might object, but if they’re just there, he probably won’t notice.” I laughed to myself. “Not that it really matters. How many people really go in there? I’ve heard of a soft opening, but that place is taking it to an extreme.”

Dinah smiled. “Well, then Emily will have that much more time for the extra reading list.”

“Now, it’s on to what I really want to hear about. You almost saying yes.” We had reached Le Grande Fromage and went into the airy café. The place smelled of buttery croissants and espresso. We joined the late-morning line at the counter.

“Well,” Dinah said, letting out a sigh, “Commander insisted on coming over when I got home last night. He said he just wanted to see me.” We did an
awww
together at the sweetness of his gesture before she continued. “He’s the absolute opposite of all the other men in my life. They always had one foot out the door.” She smiled. “Soon followed by the other foot.”

The line moved up a little, and more people came in behind us. I instinctively turned to survey who had come in. Tony Bonnard was at the end of the line. He didn’t see me, as he was too busy looking down at the screen on his phone.

Tony was one of those men who actually got better-looking as he got older. He had some character lines, but his chin was still strong-looking, and his blue eyes had a sparkle. The silvery white hair stood out more than his dark hair ever had. It was no wonder he’d been a star for so long on the soap opera.

Dinah was on a roll, and I didn’t want to interrupt her and point out the new arrival. “He’s so straightforward in how he feels. No games, no eyeing other women. He looked so hopeful when he came over and he asked if I’d decided.”

She stopped talking abruptly and got a faraway look in her eyes. I was sure she was reliving the moment. There hadn’t been a lot of real romance in Dinah’s life. She deserved to savor it.

“Sorry,” she said, realizing she’d drifted off. “I just couldn’t say the words. It was too final.” She looked down. “I hate to admit this, but I was glad when he left and everything felt normal.”

For a moment I flashed back on Barry in my living room. It had felt anything but normal to wake up and find him leaning against me. I’d given him coffee, but I think we’d both wanted him to leave as quickly as possible.

It was our turn, and we ordered our food and took the last of the round tables. Tony had moved up in line, not realizing we were there, but now Dinah had seen him as well. “I’d sure like to talk to him,” I said.

By that time, Tony had placed his order and turned, looking for a table. “I think I can make your wish come true.” Dinah caught his eye and gestured toward the empty chair at our table.

“Thanks for the invitation. It looks like a full house,” he said as he sat down and put his order number on the table.

Before I had a chance to say a word, he’d started to talk. “What was the fuss about last night? Rosa said the cops came to the door. Then CeeCee got a call about you being in the yard. We were out at a social event and CeeCee got all upset. She said the call reminded her of everything that had happened.” Our food was delivered, and it took a moment to figure out what went where. Tony’s arrived a minute later, but he ignored it as he continued. “The obvious question is what were you doing in the yard and how did you get in?”

“Probably the same way Delaney Tanner did.” I took a drink of my coffee.

“You’re not going to leave me hanging, right?” he said with a flirty grin. He was known for his charmingly crooked smile, which was the only feature on his face that wasn’t perfect.

He pulled off a small piece of his croissant and slathered some jam on it before neatly taking a bite. There was something elegant in how he ate, but then again, he was an actor. He probably practiced eating for the camera. He’d ordered a cappuccino and managed to sip it without ending up with a foam moustache.

I began with the story about my yard and how it made me wonder about CeeCee’s and finished by saying that the gate seemed to open pretty easily.

“It let us into the back area behind the garage,” I said.

His smile faded. “Maybe it’s lucky we weren’t home when you were sneaking around back there. Who knows what could have happened? I have a gun, and I’m a really good shot. I learned a long time ago when westerns were popular. Having the skill made it easier to get cast, even if it was for Cowboy Number 4.” His smile returned.

“I think we’re all glad you weren’t home then,” I said. It was bad enough we’d had to dodge the neighbors, without bullets besides. “Then you didn’t know about the gate?”

“No,” he said quickly. “The only time I’ve gone in that back area was to fetch CeeCee’s dogs. I don’t know why they go back there.”

“What about CeeCee? Would she know about the gate?” Dinah asked.

This time Tony laughed. “CeeCee lives in the house, but when it comes to taking care of things, she depends on Rosa. She had no idea the vent to the heater was so dangerous.”

“But you’re handling things now?” I asked.

He gave me another crooked smile. “I don’t claim to be
all that handy, but I do know who to call,” he said. “Though I will manage to put a lock on that back gate myself.”

I thought about what he’d said before about the gun. “But you didn’t notice anyone sneaking around in the yard back there last Thursday?”

“The truth is, you can’t really see back there from the house, and I wasn’t home anyway. Evan Willis had a shindig. I know he doesn’t work for the studio anymore, but I was hoping to chat with him about maybe investing in my web series.”

“Then of course Evan must have seen you,” I said. The comment seemed to completely change Tony’s demeanor.

“Are you trying to see if I have an alibi?” There was no smile this time, crooked or otherwise.