Silent Knife (A Celebration Bay Mystery) (13 page)

“Oh no,” said Liv. She grabbed for Whiskey, but he shot out from behind the Dumpster and took off after Grace Thornsby’s cat.

“Why did you let go of his leash?” Chaz asked.

“I thought you had him.” Liv used Chaz’s shoulders to push to her feet. She stepped into the open.

“Liv?” Nancy Pyne stood at the open door.

Chaz stepped behind Liv.

“Chaz? What are you two doing?”

“Busted,” Chaz said and squeezed past Liv into the light.

Liv didn’t wait for the explanation. She didn’t even want to know how Chaz would spin it. She took off after Whiskey and caught up with him, and an angry Grace Thornsby, at the TAT door.

Clarence was gone.

Grace had scooped up her cat and was holding him out of reach of the jumping, frisking Westie. “Get that dog out of here!”

“Sorry,” Liv said. “He just wants to play.” She grabbed at Whiskey’s leash and slipped it over her wrist. She pulled him behind her. As much to protect her dog as to appease Grace Thornsby.

Grace dropped the cat. It sidled away to stand behind her, back arched and fur standing on end. Grace glowered at Liv. “Just how did my cat get out of the store?”

Liv shrugged as Chaz sauntered up beside her.

“Probably got out during the investigation,” Chaz said, almost purring himself. “Cats are such resilient creatures; he probably saw his chance and took it.”

“She,” Grace said.

“She—nice kitty.” He reached to stroke the cat.

Liv could have told him, but she didn’t get the chance. The cat swiped at Chaz’s outstretched hand.

“Ow.” Chaz snatched his hand away.

Grace scooped up the cat, tossed it inside the store, and slammed the door shut.

“Ow,” Chaz repeated as they watched Grace storm away.

“A salutary reminder to wear your gloves and hat in this weather. At least it didn’t go for those baby blues.”

Chaz’s face went from hurt feelings to a grin. “She.” He batted his lashes at her.

“Ugh.”

Liv just caught sight of Grace’s back as she hurried to the parking lot. Liv’s spying had turned into a three-ring circus. At least she knew for sure what they’d already guessed. Grace had not been with her husband the night of Phil Cosgrove’s murder.

She huffed out a sigh. “Come on, buddy, let’s go home.”

Chaz fell in beside her as she backtracked her way up the alley. “Do you have any food at your house?”

“I meant Whiskey, not you.”

“Hey, I’m your buddy. And if you weren’t so bossy—”

“Do not say something snarky or off-color. You are responsible for me missing the end of the Thornsbys’ fight.”

“Yeah. Do you make a habit of skulking in alleys spying on people?”

“No, and I wasn’t skulking . . . exactly.”

“Uh-huh, and you were so caught up in whatever they were saying that I could have crept up behind you and slit your throat. Jesus, how lamebrained can you be?”

From her feet, Whiskey growled.

“I should sic him on you,” Liv said.

“Oh please, don’t say this ferocious little powder puff would save you.” Chaz addressed his sentence to Whiskey in a sing-song voice. And while Liv boiled, Whiskey wiggled and preened and placed both paws on Chaz’s knees to be petted.

“Traitor.”

“Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I don’t have my car, I’m walking home.”

“Then I’ll walk you to my car, ’cause I’m not walking you home in this weather.”

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” She kept walking.

Nancy Pyne was standing in the open doorway to her store.

“’Night, Nancy. Sorry we disturbed you.”

“No bother. But it’s a crime the way she treats that cat. Did you see the way she threw him into the store?”

Liv had, but she had to admit she might have been tempted to give the cat a gentle toss herself. Didn’t cats always land on their feet?

“People like that shouldn’t be allowed to have animals. Well, good night.” Nancy closed the door.

Liv picked up her pace. That ridiculous excursion hadn’t been a total waste. She’d learned that a person could have stolen the Santa suit, changed into it, killed Phil Cosgrove, and changed out of it again without being seen, even by pedestrians crossing the alley or store owners taking out the trash.

She knew that the Thornsbys were not getting along. And that Clarence didn’t trust his wife, which added credence to the idea that Clarence might have hired the detective to follow her. Could Grace have found out and killed the detective? Seemed far-fetched.

Liv wondered whether Bill had any theories, and would he share them with her if he did.

“Hey, wait up.” Chaz strode after her, sucking on the back of his hand. “How about a beer?”

She ignored him and kept walking.

“A Band-Aid?”

Liv fisted a hand on her hip, which didn’t have nearly the effect she was after, since Whiskey was tugging at the leash, making up for lost sniffing time.

“You look like a powder puff to go with your powder-puff dog.”

“Okay. That does it.” Liv tugged at Whiskey’s leash. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Chaz asked, striding after her.

“Whiskey and I are going home. You can go to—”

“Come on, Liv. Have a heart. I’m bleeding and I need a beer.”

She slowed, gave him a look, known as “the look” in Manhattan event-planning circles. It went right over Chaz’s head.

She gave it up. “Why do you think the Thornsbys were lying?”

“That’s easy. Didn’t you see Grace’s face?”

Of course she had. Liv gritted her teeth. “Let me rephrase that. Why do you think they needed to lie about being together?”

“That’s easy, too.”

“How?” she asked, nearly at the end of patience.

“I’ll tell you after the Band-Aid and over the beer.”

“Forget it.”

Whiskey barked and stiffened all fours.

“Good dog,” Chaz said, and Whiskey, fickle friend that he was, pattered across the asphalt to paw at Chaz’s knees.

“I don’t have any beer at home, and I can’t take Whiskey into a bar and I won’t leave him out in the cold. So you’re out of luck.”

“Sure you can, you’re local, sort of—getting there anyway.”

“Gee, Chaz, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He grinned at her. “And if you get drunk, I’ll be there to drive you home.”

“I never get drunk.”

“Why am I not surprised.” He took her by the elbow. “Hey, it’s just a beer. And then I’ll drive you home, drunk or not. Besides, you never can tell who might be there or what news you might pick up over your Virgin Mary.” His eyes glinted in the streetlight.

Liv couldn’t tell if it was from amusement or challenge. She went with the challenge. “Okay. But just one. And you’re buying.”

He trundled her across the alley to the parking lot. Liv couldn’t help but look around to see if one of the Thornsbys was still there.

“We’re driving?”

“No, we’re cutting through the parking lot.”

“Where are we going?” asked Liv, hurrying to keep up and practically sliding right past him.

Chaz grabbed her and kept her on her feet. “Watch out for the icy patch.”

“Funny, but thanks for the save.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So where are we going?”

“To Buddy’s. Not very romantic, I realize, but then, neither are we. And the dinner crowd will be gone. Genny won’t have closed down the cash register yet, and she won’t mind us sneaking Whiskey in.”

Buddy’s Place, known to the locals as Buddy’s or the Place or just plain Genny’s, was a cross between a Jersey diner and a luncheonette. Genny Parsons was owner, manager, and sometimes waitress. No one seemed to remember Buddy.

It was Liv and Ted’s go-to take-out place, and Liv ate dinner there at least once a week. It was a popular hangout, especially because it had a liquor license and a better-than-average wine and beer list.

Genny had already locked the door, but Chaz being Chaz, knocked on the glass.

Genny appeared on the other side and peered out, saw who it was, and unlocked the door.

“Come on in. It’s cold as you know what out there. Whiskey, you, too. No health department rules after hours. Bill’s in that back booth if you want to join him.”

Liv’s eyes widened. Did Chaz know Bill would be here? And why on earth would Mr. I-Won’t-Get-Involved get involved now?

She was about to find out, because Chaz had gone ahead. Genny and Liv exchanged looks.

“I’ll be right there,” said Genny and took off to the kitchen. Liv hurried after Chaz.

He was standing over Bill, who was cutting into a thick steak. A bottle of locally produced micro beer sat at his elbow.

Chaz pushed Liv into the banquette, gave Whiskey a boost up, and slid in beside them.

Bill put his fork down and wiped his mouth. “Something happen?”

“Liv has a confession to make.”

“What?” said Liv.

“What?” said Bill.

Whiskey, who had just settled down next to Liv, stuck his head over the table’s edge.

“This is gonna be good,” said Genny, who put a Corona and a glass of pinot grigio on the table, then slid in beside the sheriff.

“Mind if I keep eating while you confess?” Bill asked. “Or is it gonna take my appetite away?”

“I don’t have anything—” Liv stopped. She had been spying on the Thornsbys in the alley. There might be something in their fight that would be helpful to Bill’s investigation. Though she couldn’t imagine what.

“Actually.”

Bill groaned, put down his fork, and speared his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair.

“Keep eating,” Liv said. “It isn’t anything bad.”

Chaz snorted. Whiskey gave a big doggie yawn, then stretched out with his head on Liv’s lap.

Liv took a deep breath, fortified herself with a sip of wine. “I was on my way home from the meeting when I remembered that I wanted to take a look at the alley.”

Bill groaned again. Genny patted his shoulder, then gave Liv her full attention.

“I just needed to see how dark the alley was and if I needed to requisition additional lighting to ensure the safety of our visitors and ourselves. It was an innocent recce.”

“Ha,” Chaz cracked.

“I was just going to look. I wasn’t going to go
into
the alley. Just stand on the sidewalk and check out the light. I’m not that dumb.”

“Ha,” repeated Chaz.

Liv glared at him.

Resigned, Bill said, “Go on.”

“Most of the alley is decently lit, but the edges are really dark. Then I thought, it would have been almost that dark during the tree lighting. Dark enough for someone to steal the suit, change into it, then get into Trim a Tree, kill the PI—”

“What?” said Chaz.

“What PI?” Genny asked.

Liv clapped her hand to her mouth. “Sorry.”

“Don’t matter much,” Bill said. He wiped his napkin across his mouth and tossed it on the table.

“The fake Santa was a private investigator?” Chaz asked.

Bill nodded. “But I’ll thank you to keep it to yourselves.”

“Sure thing. Who hired him?”

“Don’t know. The only reason I found out so quickly is because Liv’s security head recognized him.”

Chaz whistled. Turned to Liv. “And I suppose he told you?”

“It was part of his report. How am I supposed to stay on top of things if I don’t know what’s going on?”

Chaz put down his beer. “You think Clarence Thornsby hired him to keep tabs on his wife?”

“I didn’t get a chance to ask,” Bill said. “He roared into town like a crazy man. I ran into the both of them on my way into town hall. I asked him to come to the station, he said he would. But while I was reassuring the mayor, he ran off again.”

“Did you put out an APB on him?” Genny asked.

“No, as far as I know he hasn’t done anything. But I will get him to come in and tell us what he knows about Phil Cosgrove.”

“The dead Santa?” Chaz asked.

“Oh, Chaz, that sounds so awful.” Genny shook her head. “What is this town coming to?”

Liv’s face grew hot.

Genny reached across the table and patted Liv’s arm. “Don’t you look like that, Liv, it’s not your fault that some crazy person came in and killed that man.”

“Or someone who found out he was a private tec decided to take him off the case, permanently,” Chaz said.

“Do you think Grace did it?” Genny asked, wide-eyed.

Bill huffed out a sigh. “Let’s just keep an open mind and stop conjecturing. If something like this gets out, they’ll draw and quarter Grace before she can say, ‘Bah humbug.’”

“So where was Grace when he was killed?” Liv asked.

Bill frowned at her. “Didn’t say. I heard she was back in town, and I thought she’d come out to the station. But she didn’t. Maybe she was with her husband like she said.”

“No, she wasn’t.”

“And you know this how?”

“While I was looking at the lighting, Grace and Clarence came out of TAT. I guess that means it really will reopen tomorrow?”

Bill shrugged. “I gave them the key. Crime scene finished up this afternoon. So I guess it’s back to business as usual.”

There was nothing usual about Grace Thornsby or her tacky Christmas store. “I didn’t want it to look like I followed them.” Liv glanced at Chaz. “Which I didn’t, if you’re wondering. So I stepped into the shadows.”

“Hid behind the Dumpster,” Chaz corrected.

“Anyway, they were arguing, and he asked her where she was last night and why she wasn’t in the store. Then carped on about his reputation. Then Batman here grabbed me from behind and shoved me on the ground where I couldn’t hear any more.”

Bill turned his frown on Chaz. “And what were
you
doing there?”

“Following her. I swear, the woman’s a walking self-destruct button.”

“I am not. I would have waited for them to leave, which they did—Clarence to the parking lot and Grace into the store—and then calmly walked away.”

She laughed, ruefully. “Except Nancy came out to empty the trash. She’s been keeping the TAT cat—which, by the way, is named Tinkerbell—and it ran out of the Pyne Bough and Whiskey chased after it.”

Whiskey lifted his head, ears twitching.

“It’s all right, buddy, you showed that cat. I had to go after Whiskey, and Chaz and Nancy followed. Then I was apologizing, and we would have gotten out of there, but Chaz tried to pet the devil cat and it scratched him.”

She suddenly remembered. “How’s your hand?”

Chaz rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Gangrene could have set in for all you care.”

“A big guy like you getting scratched by a cat named Tinkerbell. Give it here.” She took his hand and wet a napkin in Bill’s untouched water glass. “And that’s all I—we know,” she said as she patted the scratch clean and Chaz winced.

Bill dropped his head to one side and the other, cracking his neck. “Well, I’ll just have to see what Grace Thornsby has to say about that. So, can a person get from Nancy’s to TAT and back without being seen?”

Liv shrugged. “Possible, if they were lucky. Even this late, several groups of people crossed the alley.” Liv frowned.

“What?”

“Well, did it have to happen in order? Couldn’t someone have taken the suit, put it in a bag, and dressed somewhere else, then . . . no, that doesn’t make sense.”

“And hiding behind a Dumpster, eavesdropping on possible suspects does?”

“Come on, Bill. It wasn’t exactly like that. I didn’t even know they would be there.”

“No, but you being there might just be a lucky break for us.” He nudged Genny out of the booth. “I’d best be getting home. I think tomorrow might be a busy day.”

Chaz stood. “We’ll get going, too, so Genny can close up. You okay here by yourself?”

“Oh, the boys are still washing down the kitchen, I’ll be fine. Night, Bill. Chaz, you and Liv have a good time.”

“I’m going straight home,” Liv said, in case there was any question in anyone’s mind, including Chaz’s.

“Well sleep tight,” Genny said, but her grin said something else entirely.

They parted on the sidewalk. Bill’s car was parked at the diner. Chaz’s Jeep was in the town parking lot.

“You knew Bill was going to be there, didn’t you?” Liv said, her breath making puffs in the air with each word.

“No idea.”

“I’ve never known you to take an interest in the police blotter.”

“You’ve only known me for four months.”

“So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

Liv suppressed an urge to smack him. “Are you interested in this case?”

“Nope.”

While Chaz drove her home, Liv tried to get him to admit he was intrigued by the latest murder. God forbid he actually felt something like compassion or outrage. But she soon gave up and just looked out the window. The streets were dark except for the streetlights. The homes had turned off their decorations; the wagon and carriage rides had stopped hours ago.

Celebration Bay seemed like any other small town asleep for the night. Except for the murder. A man was dead. While they had all been celebrating the start of the Christmas season, someone had sneaked in and taken his life.

“What’s wrong now?” Chaz asked, without taking his eyes from the street.

“Nothing.”

“Then why were you sighing?”

“I was just thinking about Phil Cosgrove. He probably had a family.” A family whose Christmas would be ruined this year and for years to come.