Death of the Couch Potato's Wife: Cozy Christian Mysteries (Women Sleuth, Female Detective Suspense) (22 page)

“Tonight is the big game. Best day of the year.” Kent had the nerve to wear his team’s colors to church. As he rambled on and on about the game, I thought over and over about how he hadn’t mentioned our anniversary yet.

He couldn’t have forgotten, right? I mean, things had gotten better between us lately. I hated to think it, but ever since the pharmacy had been vandalized, Kent and I had been closer. Probably because we had more time to spend together.

But here it was our seven-year anniversary, and he hadn’t even mentioned it yet.

Of course, neither had I, but that was only because I was waiting for him to mention it first. I already had my card bought, a nice note written inside and signed with love. I’d wait until he presented me with his card before I gave him mine.

Kent never forgot anything, especially not anything important. So I knew he didn’t forget our seven years together.

All through church, he didn’t mention it.

All during lunch, he didn’t bring it up.

He did, however, bring up the Super Bowl. Over and over.

Then I kept thinking about the proof I’d received last night that he was truly a couch potato. Yes, we definitely needed to move back to Chicago. Better yet, maybe we should move to a remote village where TVs didn’t exist. Would that solve our problems?

Or was the TV really the source of our problems at all?

Megan called me after lunch.

“Congrats on seven years together. What are you and Kent doing to celebrate?”

I scowled, though she couldn’t see me. “We’re watching the Super Bowl. Or, as I like to say, we’re celebrating the end of football season for another year.”

“How romantic.”

I scowled again. “Tell me about it.”

“Have you thought any more about my offer?”

I pounded up the stairs, a moment of adrenaline surging through me. “I have. And I’d love to go in with you to start our own PR firm. We’ve already put our house on the market.”

Of course, the more time I worked at my own company, the less time Kent and I would have together. I shoved that thought to the back of my mind. He’d be busy working at the pharmacy anyway. And he always had the TV to keep him company. My heart panged at the thought, though.

We talked about our plans together. I’d go up at the end of next week to meet with her and sign the paperwork.

When we hung up, Babe called.

“Are you going to the party at Hillary’s?” I asked. Of course, I wasn’t sure I was really invited anymore, not after last night. But since I hadn’t been officially uninvited, I figured I’d go. It beat staying home alone on a day I should be celebrating my marriage. Kent would be at Darius’s house with a group of men from the neighborhood.

“No, I need to meet with Paul to discuss the financial security of my future.”

“Babe, is everything okay? Are you having money problems?”

“No, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s just that I’ve been needing to meet with him but putting it off. It turns out neither of us have any interest in watching the Super Bowl, so we decided to meet tonight.”

“Why not during business hours?” It all seemed a little strange to me.

“He’ll be out of town this week. Besides, he’s not acting as the president of the bank. He’s just doing this for me to be nice.”

“But I thought you hated him.”

“Hated is a strong word. He is the only banker in town, Laura.”

Maybe I would never figure Babe out.

We got off the phone, and I went over to my desk to find the card I’d purchased for Kent. I saw a paper sticking out from a stack and pulled it out. My scribbles about suspects and clues.

Who was I to think I could solve Candace’s murder? Every guess I’d had was wrong. But I did know that Donna wasn’t guilty—she was locked up when someone pushed me in front of that lawn mower. The killer was still out there.

Maybe moving away from Boring was the only way to preserve my life.

I crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash. It was time for me to move on.

Chapter 27

Kent slipped into his Chicago Bears’ jacket and kissed my forehead. “Thanks for letting me go to the Super Bowl party, honey. This is going to be the game of the year.”

I nodded, my throat tightening. I still couldn’t believe Kent had forgotten our anniversary. Even if everything else in life was going wrong, if my marriage still gave me hope, then I knew I’d be okay. But for Kent to forget our anniversary—what did this say about our marriage?

I nodded as he took off for Darius’s place. Then I donned my own jacket so I could drive to Hillary’s. I wasn’t looking forward to her annual “Souper Bowl Spa Party.” Not only did I not want to see Hillary again, I also didn’t want to ask her about the screen as I’d promised Steele I would do. Mostly, I just wanted to stay home and feel sorry for myself.

I plastered on a smile when I walked into the party. A lot of the women from the neighborhood were already here. I doubted most of them wanted to be here—Hillary really didn’t have any friends. They were probably here hoping to get on her good side so she’d be a little more lenient with them should they break the association rules. My mom had always told me I should be in good graces with the people who held the power.

Hillary had little centers set up all over her house. In the dining room, people were doing their nails. In the living room, a professional masseuse gave back rubs. In the TV room, a romantic comedy played. And, of course, in the kitchen, there were a variety of soups—everything from broccoli and cheese to gazpacho.

I chatted with Tiara and Karen Jones, and even briefly with Emma Jean.

I really wished Babe were here. I wanted to pour my heart out to someone about how Kent had forgotten our anniversary. I didn’t realize how much I’d come to depend on Babe as a confidante.

Tears rushed to my eyes at the thought of leaving her behind. Even though I complained about our adventures, Babe had added a lot of fun to my time here in Boring. I’d miss her terribly when I moved. I hadn’t had any good friends in Chicago, friends I trusted enough to share the really important stuff with.

I needed to get to a bathroom to compose myself, I realized, as tears threatened to escape. I tried the one downstairs but someone was using it. I didn’t think Hillary would mind if I used the upstairs one. I padded up the steps and away from the noise of the party. After clearing the landing, I passed two doors before seeing the bathroom in the distance. Voices behind one of the doors caused me to stop.

“I’m tired of pretending, Hillary. We can’t keep this up much longer.”

“You will keep pretending! Our money troubles are no one’s business. As far as they know, we’ve got everything together.”

I stepped into the bathroom, knowing I shouldn’t listen to Hillary and her husband argue. Yet, I couldn’t help it. Their hushed whispers weren’t soft enough.

“We can’t continue living at our current level. We’re just setting ourselves up for an even bigger and more public failure if we do.” Hillary’s husband sounded weary.

It was good, in one way, to know that other couples had their problems too. Yet, I hated it sometimes when I realized that life was never as easy as I’d like.

Their secret would be safe with me. I sure wouldn’t want Kent’s and my dirty laundry to be aired for the whole neighborhood.

When I returned downstairs, I tried to pay attention to the girl talk around me as we painted our fingernails and scrubbed the dead skin cells from our feet. After hearing Hillary and Mark talk about their financial problems, my mind continually wandered back to the association’s books. Why did I have the feeling the answers waited for me there? Answers that would get Donna out of jail and put the right man or woman where they belonged?

I just needed to look at the ledger one more time. Surely I could figure out what was nagging at the back of my mind.

I stood, causing the cucumber slices to fall from my eyes. Thankfully, the other women couldn’t see me because of their own vegetable-covered lids.

“Ladies, I just remembered that I need to run home and check on something. I’ll be right back.”

“Can’t it wait?” Gia asked.

I wanted to lie and say something about a candle that I’d left burning or something. But I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t add lying to my list of things of which to be ashamed. “No, actually, it can’t. I really must run right now. I should only be gone a moment, though.”

It wasn’t until I was outside that I realized I still had the avocado mask slathered on my face. If I talked too much, it would crack. Hopefully, I wouldn’t see too many people while I was out since everyone was either watching the Super Bowl or avoiding it. I’d wait to wash it off. After all, I was going back to the party. Why ruin a perfectly good moisturizing treatment?

The cold air outside caused my mask to instantly tighten and feel even more tingly than before. I fished my keys from my pocket and rushed to my car. The drive home only took a few minutes. I glanced across the street at Tiara’s house and saw all the lights on. I imagined the men inside eating nachos and popcorn and rooting for their favorite teams.

I glanced at our own garage, where I’d planned to surprise Kent with his man cave. Now I might just cancel my order for that stupid couch, even if I lost money in the process. I don’t know why I ever thought the man cave was a good idea. I should simply resign myself to a loveless marriage for the rest of my days. Since I didn’t believe in divorce, that seemed the only alternative.

I hurried inside the house, catching a sniff of the apple- scented air fragrance I’d plugged in earlier. Well, at least I did that right. I may not be a housekeeper, but I knew how to make things smell good.

Seemed an appropriate job description for someone who used to work in public relations.

I ran upstairs to my bedroom, where I’d left the file on the homeowners’ association’s treasury. I crunched the numbers again. Math may not have been my strongest subject in school, but I did have an eye for detail. Something wasn’t adding up.

Sure, the association had paid its regular bills for the maintenance of the pond and lawn care. But the statement I’d picked up from the bank clearly reflected a lower account balance than our records showed.

Candace had been the only one with authority to write checks. Had she been stealing money? Who else could be taking it?

One face stood out in my mind.

Chapter 28

I jumped into my SUV and took off toward the bank. I hastily threw my vehicle into park on the street and rushed to the door. Relief filled me when the door easily opened. Mr. Willis really needed to make sure his doors were locked, but right now that worked in my favor. Inside, the lights glared and soft music played overhead. I saw no one.

The office! They had to be in the office. I hurried across the tile floor, my heart racing erratically. I flew down the hallway, caught the door facing, and swung myself into the room in a way that would make any detective proud.

Two heads bobbed on the couch. One wearing a fedora, and the other stylishly white.

I open my mouth to speak when I realized what I’d walked in on. Babe and Paul—kissing?

Oh, my eyes.

Perhaps it was my sharp intake of breath that gave me away. Babe stood and squinted at me.

“Laura? What is wrong with you? What’s on your face?”

“My face?” I touched my cheek and felt the avocado mask. “Oh, that. It’s nothing.

“You look like you’ve been through a tornado.”

I caught my breath and shook my head. “Wait. You two. Together?”

Babe blushed, and looked with glowing eyes at Paul. “We can’t deny our feelings anymore.”

Great, my best friend had found love again—with a killer. I extended a cautious hand, determined to make Babe understand the seriousness of the situation. With a steady voice, I said, “Babe, I think you should step away from Paul.”

“Why would I do that, Laura?” Babe blinked her eyes at me innocently.

Paul’s brows furrowed together, and he tipped his hat back so I could better see his eyes. “Yes, why would she do that?”

I reached my hand out toward her, as if I were in a lifeboat and she were drowning. “Babe, just listen to me. Come over here with me. And whatever you do, don’t eat that cake.”

Babe’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t think you drank alcohol.”

I paused. “What? I don’t.”

“You’re acting like you’re three sheets to the wind.”

Irritation threatened to boil over, but I managed to keep my tone even. “Babe, Paul killed Candace.”

At that, Paul released Babe—or maybe she released him, not sure—and they stepped apart, looking suspiciously at each other.

“What are you talking about, girl? I didn’t kill anyone!” His hands went to his hips.

“You’re the only one besides Candace who had access to the association’s treasury. You’ve been stealing funds, and Candace found out. You had to keep her quiet.”

“Why in the world would I steal from that measly little treasury, little girl? I have enough money that I don’t have to work—I do it because I like to.”

Good point. I couldn’t let that logic deter me, though. He was the only one with access. Paul had to be the killer.

I pointed at him and took a step back, just in case he had any tricks up his sleeve. “Maybe it’s just for the thrill of seeing what you can get away with.”

“He didn’t do it, Laura.” Babe stepped into the crook of his arm.

I shook my head, trying to warn her to stay back. She didn’t listen. How could Babe not trust me, after everything we’d been through together? Besides, I thought she despised Paul. I guessed that sometimes love and hate could look an awful lot alike.

“Babe, this theory is the only thing that makes sense. He did it!” I tried to beckon her with my eyes. “Please believe me.”

Paul threw his free hand in the air. I could see he was frustrated. “We were discussing bankruptcy, you foolish girl! The store isn’t doing well, in case you haven’t heard. I was giving her some options.”

I shrugged. “A likely story.”

“Besides,” Babe looked at the floor. When she glanced back up, I think I saw her blush. “He has an alibi.”

“Who?”

“Me. Paul and I were together on the night Candace died, having dinner.”

My mouth gapped open. “You two have been seeing each other that long? I thought you hated each other.”

Babe tilted her head to the side and said matter-of-factly, “Certain things are best left private, Laura. I didn’t want everyone in this town knowing my business. Besides, I had to play hard to get. No man wants a woman who chases him.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. How had I missed this? Some detective I’d turned out to be. I’d think about this romance later. Now, I had to figure out who killed Candace. The answer was at my fingertips. I could feel it.

I leaned against the doorframe, suddenly exhausted. “Well, who else could have stolen the money? The figures definitely don’t add up—you don’t have to be a math expert to figure that out.”

“There’s only one other person authorized to access the account.” Paul locked his gaze with mine.

My ears perked, as my hope surged. “And who’s that?”

Paul looked at me like I should know the answer.

And right then, I did. I threw my head back and groaned. “How could I have missed that person?” The answer had been right in front of my eyes the whole time.