A Healthy Homicide (5 page)

The woman in the jogging suit frowned at the girl but didn’t speak.

“Knock it off, Brittany,” Jessica said. “Who cares about the money now?”

Wait, Brittany?
Was this Ashlee’s friend Brittany? Ashlee talked about her all the time, but I’d never actually met the girl. I was sure I would have remembered the red hair. And the inappropriate laughing. Hadn’t Jason mentioned that?

“I do.” Brittany flipped up a chunk of hair and studied the black tips. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m totally bummed about losing this cush job, too. And about what happened to Carla, of course.”

“Good place to work?” I asked.

Jessica nodded. “The best. Carla was super flexible with my hours. I can work only certain days because I go to school, and she fixed the schedule for me.”

“Yeah, and the work was easy,” Brittany said. “Answering phones and making appointments, stuff like that.”

For a second, I thought she’d finish speaking without giggling, but she threw one in at the end. I gritted my teeth. When Brittany didn’t say anything else, I turned to the woman with the candle. “Did you work for Carla, too?”

She set the candle under the bench, where the flame reflected off the cellophane wrappers of the various bouquets, creating a semicircle of fire. “No, I never met the woman, but her death is so tragic. I felt I should pay my respects. How about you?”

“I met her only briefly, but she seemed like a nice person. She certainly didn’t deserve to die the way she did.”

Jessica snapped her fingers. “That’s where I know you from. You came in the shop yesterday.”

“That was me.” My phone vibrated, and I pulled it from my pocket. Beside me, both Brittany and Jessica glanced at their phones, too, as if the movement was as contagious as a yawn.

On the tiny screen, I saw a text from Jason that he was on his way.
Criminy.
Where had the time gone? At this rate, he’d probably beat me to my apartment, and I hadn’t even cleaned the bathroom yet.

I stuffed the phone in my pocket and pulled out my keys. “Good luck with the job hunt,” I told Jessica and Brittany. “I hope the cops figure out who killed Carla.”

Jessica straightened a group of flowers on the bench and turned with an air of importance. “I already told them who did it.”

“What?” Brittany and I said in unison. Why hadn’t she said anything before?

Jessica looked all around, as if eavesdroppers were lurking behind the buildings, but the only activity outside of our group was the occasional car driving past. For all I knew, one of them might even be Jason’s.

“She was so mad at her niece the other day.” She elbowed Brittany’s side. “You remember, don’t you? We were straightening up the front office, and she kept ragging on us about every little thing. It’s the only time she was ever mad about anything.”

Brittany shrugged. “I thought she was mad because I kept texting my friends during work. It’s not like we had any customers right then. Well, except the ones in the back rooms. And the ones waiting in the lobby. I don’t know why my texting would bug her so much.”

I choked down a laugh while Jessica rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t it. It was something Erin did.”

“What did she do?” I was torn between waiting to see what Jessica had to say and hightailing it back to my apartment, where I knew a sink full of dirty dishes likely waited for me, along with Ashlee’s clothes strewn all over the place. I’d give her thirty more seconds to get to the point.

“I don’t know. But one thing I do remember. When she called Erin later on the phone, I heard Carla say not to threaten her. She wouldn’t stand for it.” Jessica took a step toward me, the glee clear on her face. “And that’s why I told the cops that Erin must have killed her.”

 

“That’s what you’re basing your theory on?” I asked. “One snippet of a conversation you overheard?” Jessica had sounded so confident that she knew who killed Carla, but obviously she was guessing. I couldn’t resist peeking at the time on my phone. I needed to get going. My kitchen wouldn’t clean itself.

Anger flashed across Jessica’s face at my obvious doubt, replacing the brashness from a moment ago. “You got anything better?”

“No,” I admitted. “But that threat Carla was talking about could have referred to anything from blabbing a family secret to borrowing her car for a destruction derby. I doubt it’s connected to her murder.”

“Well, the cops were pretty interested in what I told them. I bet it’s the big break that’ll get Erin arrested.”

Brittany grabbed Jessica’s wrist. “If that happens, a bunch of news channels will want to interview you. You might even be on a talk show.” She giggled. “I’d totally watch that.”

“You think so?” Jessica asked.

The woman in the jogging suit made a disgusted snort and turned away. I felt like doing the same.

“Okay, well, good night,” I said to no one in particular. I walked off as the two girls started discussing what Jessica should wear for her debut TV appearance. Once in the car, I overcranked the engine and then scraped the curb as I sped toward home.

At the complex, I surveyed the guest parking spots and let out a breath. Jason’s Volvo was nowhere in sight. I grabbed the hot dog buns and my purse off the passenger seat and trotted up the stairs. In my haste, I dropped my keys as I tried to unlock the door. I mumbled under my breath as I bent to retrieve the keys, and then I let myself in. The apartment was dark. My foot struck an object on the carpet as I headed for the kitchen.

I switched on a light and turned back to find a pair of Ashlee’s sandals on the floor. I was starting to think she had no idea what a closet was for. I snatched up the shoes, grabbed her jacket and socks off the couch, and tossed everything into her room before slamming the door shut, shaking my head at the mess. The weatherman hadn’t reported any tornado activity in Blossom Valley, but maybe Ashlee’s room had suffered an isolated incident.

I hesitated in the hall, torn between cleaning the kitchen and wiping down the bathroom. Jason would definitely see the kitchen, since he usually helped me with dinner, but he might not need to use the facilities. I quickly transferred the dirty dishes from the sink to the dishwasher and grabbed the bottle of cleaner and a rag from the cabinet. I was scrubbing off the last smears of chocolate ice cream that had dried on the counter when the doorbell rang.

The sound gave me a burst of energy, and I hurriedly stowed the cleaning supplies back under the sink before I rinsed my hands and took down a can of chili from the cupboard. I cranked open the can and dumped the contents into a pot as the doorbell rang again.

“Coming!” I tossed the empty can in the recycling bag under the sink, where Jason wouldn’t see it, put the pot on the burner, turned the burner on, and then ran my hands over my hair to smooth any errant strands. After a last look around the kitchen, I trotted over and opened the door.

Jason stood on the porch, a six-pack of amber ale in his hand. His hair looked damp, the ends curling along his collar. He must have run home to shower before coming over, which was more than I could say for myself. I looked down at my work khakis and polo shirt and winced.

“I’m running behind schedule. I haven’t had a chance to change.”

Jason pulled me close for a kiss. “You always look like a knockout to me.” He stepped into the apartment.

“Thanks, but I’m sure you’d prefer I not smell like pig.”

He smiled. “I thought we were having bacon with our chili dogs.”

He set the beer bottles on the counter, and I rummaged through the silverware drawer for a bottle opener. I popped the top off a beer and handed it to him. “Enjoy. I’ll be right back.”

I dashed into the bedroom, tore off my work clothes, and donned a pair of dark red jeans and a long-sleeved white top. I ran a brush through my hair and tossed the brush behind me onto the bed on my way out of the room. Jason waited in the kitchen.

“I would have started dinner, but I didn’t know if you wanted me snooping around your kitchen,” he said. “My mom used to hate when guests did that.”

I ran my hand along his back as I walked over to the counter. “You’re not just any old guest, but I admire your restraint. That’s impressive for a reporter.” I dug a red onion out of the back of a cabinet, praying it wasn’t moldy, and peeled off the outer layer. “That reminds me. How are your stories on the murder going? Any new leads?”

“Only bits and pieces.” He took a pull on his beer. “The police didn’t have an update when I called this afternoon, at least none they’re willing to share this early in the investigation. I’m also having trouble finding anyone who knew her.”

I grabbed a knife from the drawer and began dicing the onion. “I ran into a couple of the employees at the spa, Jessica and Brittany, on my way home.” I felt my eyes well up as the strong fumes of the onion hit me, and I swiped at the tears with the back of my hand. “I know you already talked to Brittany, but what about Jessica? She has this ridiculous theory that Carla’s niece, Erin, is responsible for her murder.”

“I talked to her,” Jason said. “Her reasoning for why Erin is the killer is flimsy, but I’d sure like to know more about Erin threatening Carla.”

I finished with the onion, then opened the fridge and removed a package of hot dogs and a bag of shredded cheese. “Have you met Erin yet? Does she live around here?”

“She lived with Carla. I stopped by the house, but no one answered the door. A car was in the driveway, so she might have been hiding out.”

I kissed his cheek. “No offense, but I’d hide, too, if a reporter came knocking on my door after my aunt was killed, even one as good looking as you.” I pulled open the hot dog package.

“You never know. Some people are eager to talk. They see me as the best way to tell their story.” Jason set his beer on the counter. “I can’t let you do all the work.” He grabbed the bag of cheese, tore the top off, and then worked to pry the zippered pieces apart.

I got the hot dogs started, then stirred the chili and turned down the heat. “Who else did you talk to?”

“The neighbors, although that was a dead end. Seems Carla moved in four months ago but kept to herself. Her niece showed up a month later.”

“They didn’t move in at the same time?” I asked.

Jason retrieved two dinner plates from the cupboard. “Not according to the neighbors. One of them thinks Erin’s mom lives in Santa Rosa, but she’s not sure.”

I was surprised that Carla’s neighbors knew so little about her, but then again, I didn’t often talk to my neighbors, either. When I was younger, people sat on their porches, chatting with anyone who happened to walk by. Now most everyone came home from work, went inside, and watched movies online or clips on YouTube.

“Did you learn anything else from the neighbors?” I asked.

“Not much. The one across the street said Carla occasionally had guests. One guy in particular was a repeat visitor, but she didn’t know any names.”

I used a fork to spear the hot dogs in the boiling water and placed them on the buns. “Let’s hope the police have more luck. Their job sounds impossible right now.”

I spooned the chili over the hot dogs and sprinkled everything with a healthy dose of cheese and red onion, while Jason found the forks and napkins. I took a plate in each hand, along with a bag of chips, while Jason carried the beers in one hand and the napkins, forks, and jar of sliced jalapeños in the other. Together, we walked into the living room and settled on the couch. I set our plates on the coffee table and picked up the remote.

“What’s on tonight?” I asked.

“No idea.” Jason picked up his plate and took a bite of his chili dog. “Wow. This is good. You should cook more often.”

I looked down at my meal of a processed hot dog, canned chili, and pre-shredded cheese. Well, at least I’d diced the onion myself. “Thanks.” I switched the television to a news channel, and we watched the latest headlines while we ate our chili dogs.

I was almost finished with mine when I heard a key in the lock and Ashlee burst into the apartment.

“Hi, guys!” she sang.

“Hey, how was work?” I asked.

She kicked off her mules and shoved them under the coffee table. I gave her points for sticking them somewhere where I wouldn’t trip over them. “Awesome. Somebody left a box full of puppies at the vet office, so I got to spend the day playing with them.” She glanced around the room. “We should keep one. We could put his bed by the TV.”

“No pets allowed, remember?”

Ashlee stuck out her lower lip. “Couldn’t we lie and say it was a therapy dog?”

“Then I’d need actual therapy from the guilt of lying.”

She flopped down on the couch next to me, and I gripped my plate to keep from dropping it. “You’re no fun.”

“So you’ve been telling me all my life.” I scraped the last of the chili off my plate and set the plate on the coffee table. “I met your friend Brittany today.”

“Really? Where?”

“Outside Carla’s spa. She and one of her coworkers were hanging around.” I dropped my crumpled napkin on the dinner plate. “Does she always giggle like that?”

Ashlee gave me a questioning look. “Like what? I’ve never heard her giggle.”

I stared at her. Maybe the sound was the type you could tune out after a while, like a leaf blower or background music. “She giggles after every sentence.”

“Bullpucky.”

Jason leaned forward so he could see around me. “It’s true. I interviewed her for the paper, and she laughed the whole time.”

“She must have been nervous,” Ashlee said. “She’s totally worn out from the murder. She swears she was talking to the cops all day. They kept asking her when she left work last night, if the back door was locked when she left, if she saw anyone hanging out where they shouldn’t have been.”

“And what did she say?” I asked. Beside me, I felt Jason tense up, no doubt wondering if he’d find out anything useful for his next article.

“She left at five, when her shift ended. Said Carla was busy typing in her office.”

I hadn’t seen an office during my earlier visit, but it had to be one of the rooms Carla didn’t show me. I turned to Jason. “What time was she killed?”

“They’re waiting for the report, but probably not more than an hour or so after that.”

I returned my attention to Ashlee. “Was the door locked?”

She didn’t answer, as she was too busy staring at the television. I looked at the screen, where a glammed-up couple was heading down a red carpet, flashbulbs from dozens of cameras blinding them.

“Ashlee,” I said more loudly. “Was the door locked?”

She dragged her gaze from the screen. “What? Oh, sure. Brittany locked the front door on her way out.”

“What about the back door?” Jason asked. He leaned toward her to hear the answer. I muted the volume on the TV.

She frowned at me and then looked at Jason. “How should I know if she locked it?”

“Maybe Brittany said something,” he said.

“I think the cops asked her that, but she couldn’t remember. She almost never used that door.” Ashlee grabbed the remote from my hand and turned the volume back up.

I ignored the show and turned to Jason. “Do the police think the killer got in through the back door?” Gretchen had told me the door was unlocked when she stopped by, but I was looking for confirmation.

“They don’t know, but it’s the obvious choice if Brittany is sure that she locked the front door. If someone knew Carla kept the back door unlocked, they could take advantage of that information.”

“So you think the murder was planned?” The chili dog in my stomach ran around in circles, chasing its tail.

“Too soon to tell.” Jason stood and stretched, then grabbed both plates and carried them to the kitchen. I heard him running water and then two clinks as he set the plates in the dishwasher.

When he returned to the living room and sat back down, I patted his leg. “Thanks.”

“Thanks for dinner.”

Ashlee made a gagging noise.

“Don’t you have a date tonight?” I asked her sweetly.

“Chip’s having dinner with his cousin. He’s visiting from out of town.”

I put a finger to my lips. “Hmm . . . first a visit to his grandmother, now dinner with a cousin. I think you’re losing your touch.”

“I am not,” Ashlee snapped. She touched her blond hair, three shades lighter than mine, like it was a magic talisman. “Am I?”

She sounded so worried that I couldn’t keep torturing her. “No. I’m sure he’d rather be with you tonight.”

Ashlee flipped her hair back. “You’re right. But I think I’ll text him, anyway.” She disappeared into her bedroom and closed the door.

Jason pulled out his phone. “That late already? I’d love to hang out, but I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

I sighed. “Me too.”

I rose from the couch, and Jason followed, placing an arm around my waist. At the door, we engaged in some heavy lip locking until I heard Ashlee come out of her room, muttering to herself.

I broke free from our embrace. “Good night.”

Jason ran a finger along my cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I watched him go down the stairs and to his car before I closed the door.

I drifted into my bedroom, savoring the warmth that lingered on my lips, and stretched out on the bed. As I lay there, dark thoughts about Carla’s death crept in from the corners of my mind and smothered the contented feeling from my evening with Jason.

Carla was alive and well when Brittany had left work at five. She was dead by the time Brittany returned the next morning. What had happened during the hours in between?