Death Stretch (17 page)

“Katie, no.”

“You turned your back on me to phone Matt when I was in the room. You don't want me to be part of this mess, but I'm in it up to my neck. Against my will, I might add. You want to make something with me? Then treat me like I'm worthy of more than some hot sex and regular door locking orders.”

His frown, tight shoulders, fisted hands and pursed mouth described his thoughts louder than words. He moved his head from side to side.

“I can't do that, Katie, and you shouldn't ask. A killer is after you and Ginger. Do you really think I'll expose you to that?” He took a step back. “Don't ask me to.”

“Then we don't have much to say, do we?” I knew withdrawal was my normal response to overwhelming emotions. Feeling exposed made me squirm and look for escape routes.

A vulnerable look flashed across his face and disappeared so fast I thought it a trick of the light. Maybe we shared that trust problem.

“Guess not. Take care of yourself, okay?” He turned and walked away without looking back.

****

“I'm sorry.” Ginger's subdued voice crossed the telephone line to my ear.

“So am I.”

That's all we said. When words come from the heart, it doesn't take many to get the meaning across. I think I saw that on a greeting card.

Taking a deep breath, I asked, “How're you doing?”

“Let's see. I'm being blackmailed, my husband is gone and oh, yeah, I threw my best friend out of my life. Life could get worse, but I'd hate to be there.”

Ginger. Master of the understatement.

“Mona called. Said we should stop by.”

My mouth watered. Then it turned arid. If Mona called wanting us to stop by, it meant she had some information. That could be good or bad.

We agreed to meet at the Chocolate Fix. Ginger waited outside the shop when I arrived. Walking in, we saw Mona waiting on a line of people and settled at a table to wait.

Ginger leaned toward me and lowered her voice. “Katie, I'm beginning to think Rob could be the person blackmailing me.”

Finally. The suspicion I had running in my head was voiced. I treaded carefully because I didn't want to get pushed away again. “What makes you think that?”

“I haven't heard from him. Not a word.”

“What else?”

“It's the business.” She folded her hands in her lap.

Rob worked in finance, specializing in mergers and acquisitions. My gut roiled, a sure sign I didn't want to hear what she had to say.

“The quarterly investment report came today. Usually Rob takes care of that, but he's not here, so...”

So she wanted to know if Rob’s flight involved money or another woman. Now my gut pumped like a butter churn on high.

“Rob put most of our money into a high-risk investment without telling me. We always shared decisions in the past.”

Friendship shorthand filled in the rest. Rob took a flier with Ginger's money and screwed up. No wonder he ran.

“Did he, um...did he lose everything?”

“No. Mom taught me to diversify. Rob lost only a small portion of our net worth. I had left the rest with my Mom's advisers.”

Shoot. Even if Rob wasn’t the BM, my personal name for the nut job causing all these problems, he’d fallen into deep shit with Ginger. She remained the most forgiving person I knew. She'd had to be for us to stay friends all these years. But Rob would have to own up to his stupidity, and that wouldn't sit well with him. Maybe he was angry she wouldn't trust him with more of her money.

“Uh, Ginger, did he lose anywhere near a quarter mil?” A haunted gaze met mine across the table.

“That's it almost to a penny.”

Crap. Things weren't looking good for Rob-boy.

A plate of truffles appeared magically before us. Mona slid into the remaining open chair. How much had she overheard? Her face appeared smooth and inscrutable. Hard to tell.

“Hey, girls. You up for some major gossip?”

“You bet.” I forced my enthusiasm but Mona didn't appear to notice.

“Guess who's partnering with Justin?”

I blinked. “That's a loaded question. Do you mean partnering-lovers or business style?”

“Business.” She shifted on her seat, something she only did when she had hot news.

“Oh, okay, that doesn’t narrow down the gender.” I made her squirm for about thirty seconds then relented. “I can't think of anyone,” leaving out the words, “stupid enough.”

“Brandi Wells is going in with Justin to run the Yoga Studio. They're reopening in a week, but are taking registrations now.”

My mouth dropped open. I could feel it hanging there as if my jaw broke a hinge. “No.”

“Yes.”

Mona voiced my thoughts. “Why would she work? Her husband is loaded, right?”

“She probably wants to show off her boob job. Hanging out of her yoga togs is another opportunity.” Okay, so I was jealous.

The storeowner looked thoughtful. “Could be she wants a piece of Morgan. Any way she can get one.”

Ginger tapped her fingernail on the tabletop while eyeballing me. “She told me her husband travels a lot. Maybe she wants to stay busy.”

I jumped in to erase her sudden lost look. “My, my, my. Flash and Justin. There’s a match made in hell.”

Mona laughed. “Got that right.” She looked around the room and lowered her voice. “Word is the studio is broke. Justin lost his original investment and more.”

Shocker alert. “Justin had the money? I thought Morgan headed the studio?”

Mona picked up a truffle and pushed the plate toward us. “Morgan was the public face, but he didn't invest a dime. Every penny came from Justin.”

“So all the gifts, the request for studio rent, that all went in Morgan's pocket?”

“If the gossip is correct, that's right.”

“The only way Justin could recoup his investment was to keep Morgan alive, then.”

Mona leaned back in her chair. “Either that or cut his losses by ending the partnership.”

Huh. That brought up another point. “Did they have a partnership agreement? You know, where Justin gets Morgan's stuff if he dies?”

She rested her chin on her palm. “I don't know, but I bet Brandi will get one from Justin. She's a bloodsucker.”

We all nodded in unison.

“I did hear, though, that Morgan didn’t have a will. They're trying to find his relatives, but none have come forward. So, I guess if there's no partner agreement, Justin is left in the cold.”

“Well, he's got Flash.” I paused for effect. “You're right. He's out in the cold.” And scrambling to keep his head above water. I almost felt sorry for him, but the feeling didn't last long. He'd been a jerk.

“Katie, maybe we should sign up for yoga lessons.”

Mona's eyes widened. “You two are riding for trouble.”

Ginger answered before I could. “We're the Demonic Duo. We can do anything.”

Chapter Fifteen

The Yoga Studio boasted a gaudy “Reopening Under New Management” sign. Okay, the sign was tasteful, but I didn't want to give credit to Flash. Or to Justin for that matter.

Ginger and I looked at the flapping canvas hung from the second story window. “Where are the skulls and crossbones? The beaker of poison? Shouldn't there be truth in advertising?”

She gave me an eye roll and we walked into the building. I hadn't been inside since Morgan's death. My heart beat faster, and not from climbing the stairs. Sure, I expected to feel some stress, but not the crushing darkness descending on me. I suspected the memory of feeling Morgan’s heartbeats slow and stop would remain with me for a while.

Ginger walked in first, and I heard Brandi's gushy welcome. Flash’s voice changed when she spotted me. Her lips twisted into a sneer that would make Mrs. Crankshaw proud. “Returning to the scene of the crime?”

My friend jumped in before I started a hair pulling catfight with the bitch in heat sitting at the desk. “We saw the sign. Congratulations on the reopening. Are you working here?”

Flash threw back her shoulders. “Partner.”

Ginger didn't give away a thing. That's my BFF.

“Wow! Congratulations! I'm sure the Yoga Studio will prosper now that you're here.”

I covered my mouth to hide a smile. Ginger could BS with the best of them.

“We'll be accepting only the best people as students.” She appraised me with a look and I knew I wouldn't make the cut. Returning her gaze to Ginger, she smiled. “You're more than welcome, of course.”

“Why thank you. Do you have a class price list?”

They got down to business and I wandered the area, trying to work out how the murderer could have accessed Morgan's mat and blocks. Pretty easy. A wide open area, the place where Morgan stored his equipment was clearly marked with a different color box and a sign noting it as personal. With the studio open early every Saturday, any number of people could have infused the mat with poison.

Anyone could have, but only a few people would. Maybe one of the women Morgan swindled, but I’d determined that wasn't a strong lead. The list of potential killers came down to just a few people and Rob topped it. Justin didn't seem likely, but I included him, and put Flash on the list out of spite. I wanted to see her in Jailhouse Orange.

“What is that woman doing here?” Uh, oh. Justin walked in, in full scream. Lucky no one else was in the studio with us.

He stormed to the desk and, standing behind Flash, pointed at me. “That bitch killed Morgan.” Justin turned on his new partner. “How could you let her in?”

He didn't wait for an answer. Justin stalked over and shook his fist in my face. “You dare to show your face here? After what you did? Why aren't you in jail where you belong?”

No more. He’d made one accusation too many.

“Look, Justin. For the last time, I didn't kill Morgan. You have no right to blame me, so shut up or I'll bring a defamation suit. A big one.”

He opened and closed his mouth but remained silent.

“Why aren't you blaming one of the women Morgan had an affair with? You know, someone like Flash over there. They had a lot more reason to kill your partner than I did.”

Sadness and what looked like regret flickered over Justin's face. His shoulders fell. Again, I felt an unwanted sympathy for him. I lowered my voice. “We're hoping the police find the killer so we can all put this to rest.” I softened my tone. “Do you know of anyone who would have done this to your friend?”

I'm not sure how I did it, but I set Justin off again.

He glared at me but spoke to Flash. “Get her out of my sight.” Justin walked into the practice room, shoulders shaking. We could hear his sobs and Flash tearing up Ginger's application as we left.

We clattered down the stairs as if a bad witch—or Flash—chased us. We paused at the bottom of the stairs to catch our breath. Okay, so I could rest. Ginger's breathing stayed even. The sun shone bright and hot when we exited the building.

“Ginger, Justin is wearing a watch that looks like Morgan's.”

“How do you know that?”

“I saw Morgan when I did CPR, and the one Justin wore looked the same.”

My friend's face showed her disappointment. She did that really well, probably from her years of practice with me.

“What? I want to know why anyone would pay so much for a watch.” My high school Timex kept ticking, and that was good enough for me. “I don't get it. They aren't all that fancy looking.”

“It's what's on the inside that counts.” She wiggled her eyebrows at me. “Besides, he could have one of his own if what Mona said about Justin being the money man is right.”

“It's white gold.”

Ginger tsked.

“And I'm no expert, but Flash was wearing a vivid red lipstick.”

“So?”

“It looked like the color used on my refrigerator.”

Ginger's eyes narrowed into slits. I quickly remembered I hadn't told her about my last crisis. We headed to Dora's Cafe and I filled her in.

“That's it. You're staying with me and we'll use that damned security system Rob insisted on installing.”

I made nasty eyes. “Ginger, don't tell me you've been in that house alone and not used the system.” I threw my napkin over my unfinished hamburger. “That's it. I can see I have to take you in hand.”

We smiled, finally at peace with each other again. I was glad to have her with me when we reached my house. I geared up to face my destroyed kitchen when a Get Solid crew truck pulled into my drive. Cam jumped down from the driver's side. The back truck doors opened and three more guys piled out.

“Cam, I'm sorry, but I can't help with the plans right now. How about I come in later and pound out the work?”

“Nah, forget it. Jim sent us over to help you clean up.” His big hand dwarfed a shiny new house key on a tag I recognized. “Jim gave us the new key you left with him just in case you weren't here.”

My chest hurt and I didn't know how to express myself. I settled for a gruff answer. “Well, come on in then, and let's see how bad it really is.”

Ginger put her hand on Cam's arm. A quiet “thank you” floated to my ears. Some day I have to learn how to express myself better. Didn't look like it'd be soon, though, what with my plate filled with murder, blackmail and general mayhem. When I walked into the kitchen, my vocabulary remained limited. “Crap. Damn it. Crap.”