Fat-Free and Fatal (A Kate Jasper Mystery) (33 page)

Meg turned and looked at me.

“Vesta’s not that bad,” I objected half-heartedly. My cheeks felt uncomfortably warm. These weren’t my secrets Barbara was telling. They were Wayne’s. Too late, I realized that I should never have shared the ugly details with Barbara if I hadn’t wanted them to go any further.

“Not that bad?” Barbara mimicked. “Jeez-Louise, Kate, look what she’s done to Wayne! And now she’s in your house, trying to break up your relationship.”

“Barbara,” I hissed. “Forget about Vesta, all right?”

She opened her mouth to argue with me some more. I glared back at her. She closed her mouth just as the teakettle began to sing. I certainly hoped the Snyder murders would be solved soon, if only because I needed a vacation from Barbara. A very long vacation.

“Do you mind if I take a look at your paintings?” I asked Meg abruptly.

“No,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

I strode back into Meg’s living room, seething with anger at Barbara. I squinted at a new abstract in bold strokes of purple and blue that sat on one of the easels. The paint was still wet. Maybe Meg had been working on it when Barbara called. No wonder she’d been so distracted when we arrived. My mind jumped back to Barbara. How in hell had I previously found her outspokenness so endearing? I turned to look at the oversized carrot again. Now that was my kind of painting—

“Hey, kiddo,” came Barbara’s voice from my side. “Do you want your tea?”

I jumped, startled, then turned to her with a curse on my lips. Meg stood behind Barbara with her arms crossed, her sea-green eyes narrowly focused now. I swallowed my curse and forced my face into a smile.

“I’m sorry,” Barbara mouthed in my direction. The expression on her face was vulnerable for a change, without a trace of brazenness. Damn. I should have known I wouldn’t be able to stay mad at her.

“It’s all right,” I told her.

Barbara smiled weakly and handed me a white ceramic mug that smelled of cinnamon.

“How much for the carrot?” I asked Meg, taking a sip of tea.

“Two thousand,” she answered. I gulped the hot tea too fast and coughed. I knew it was probably a fair price for all the work that had gone into it, but it was too much for me, and I told her so.

Meg didn’t bother to negotiate the carrot’s price. She gave us exactly enough time to finish our tea, then herded us out the door, pleading an appointment. She certainly wasn’t distracted anymore.

“Well?” I said to Barbara once we were in the car again.

“I just don’t know,” she answered, her voice low and unhappy. “Sorry, kiddo. I guess visiting Meg was a waste of time.”

“Are you all right?” I asked. Barbara without enthusiasm? I couldn’t have been more surprised if the health food store had run out of brown rice.

She shrugged her shoulders and stared at the dashboard.

I spent the rest of the drive over the Golden Gate Bridge convincing her the trip hadn’t been a waste of time. Every little bit of information counted, I told her. You’ll figure it out, I insisted. By the time we got to my house, she was talking again.

“I’ll come in with you,” she said, life in her voice once more. “We can talk strategy.”

I wondered if I had done a little too good of a job cheering her up as we climbed the stairs.

We had made it to the porch when Wayne came trotting out the doorway, pulling on his jacket as he ran.

“Kate,” he murmured and came to a dead stop. He looked down at me. For a moment, I thought I saw adoration flashing from beneath his eyebrows. Then he put his hands on my shoulders and bent down to give me a long kiss. Maybe it wasn’t adoration. Maybe it was lust. Either one was all right by me, I thought as I eagerly leaned into his embrace.

Barbara giggled behind me. Wayne and I pulled away from each other simultaneously.

“How’s Vesta?” I whispered, still dizzy from the kiss.

He sighed. That was answer enough for me.

“So how’s everything else?” I amended. “Anything else.”

“Glad I caught you,” he told me. “Gotta run. Crisis at the downtown restaurant. I’ll be there most of the evening.” He looked into my eyes again. “Okay?” he asked softly.

“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly. I didn’t really want to spend another evening alone with Vesta. But business was business.

“Been people calling for you all day,” he continued. “Judy at the Jest Gifts warehouse says you didn’t leave her enough signed checks. Something about a C.O.D. package that the guy will come back to deliver at the end of his route.”

I groaned long and loud. Wayne’s brows went up.

“Never mind,” I said. “I’ll phone her.”

He shifted his gaze to Barbara.

“Felix wants you to call him,” he summarized. I knew it was a summary. Felix couldn’t even say his name that concisely.

Wayne reached for me one more time, limiting himself to a chaste kiss on my forehead; then he ran down the stairs.

I called the warehouse as soon as we got inside. Everything was all screwed up. Even worse than usual. Judy couldn’t find the checks. Jean couldn’t find the ambulance-chaser mugs for the Trial Lawyers of America convention. (The mug itself looked like a foreshortened ambulance; the handle, an attorney leaping onto the ambulance’s rear end, hands and feet outstretched.) And the computers were acting funny. Judy hoped she hadn’t erased anything important, but…

“I’ll be there in an hour,” I promised and hung up.

“See you later,” I told Barbara and took a step toward the door.

“Wait a sec,” she called to me. “Don’t you want to know what Felix found out?”

I looked at my watch. It was after three-thirty. I needed to go soon. But I did want to know. And Barbara knew damn well that I did.

“Make it quick,” I ordered.

Barbara saluted and dialed the phone. I sat there tapping my foot as she pried information out of Felix.

“Just tell me, Felix,” she kept repeating, her voice a little tighter each time. I could just hear Felix stringing out his tale to bargain for an exchange of information.

But he must have let her have the story, because suddenly she made a series of smooching noises into the receiver and told him goodbye.

“The San Ricardo Police Department is interviewing Zach,” she whispered after she hung up.

“They caught him?” I breathed.

“Yeah, you’ll love it.” She grinned. “He was picked up for speeding in Santa Rosa. And he had his whole stash of drugs with him.” The grin left her face. “The police think he may be the one who murdered the Snyders. He’s got a history of arrests for drugs and violent crimes. And he doesn’t have an alibi anymore—”

“But did he really do it?” I interrupted, asking myself the question as much as Barbara.

Barbara sighed in instant understanding. “No,” she said. “I don’t think so.” She looked up at me. “It’s up to us,” she announced.

“Oh, no,” I told her, moving toward the door. “We’re out of it.”

“But Kate,” she objected, following me. “Think about poor Mrs. Snyder. Her first son dead in a car accident…”

I didn’t hear her next few sentences. I had forgotten about Rose Snyder’s firstborn son. My stomach spasmed as if someone had punched me. Poor Rose. Both of her children dead. All of her children dead.

“…if you’re going to the East Bay anyway,” Barbara was saying when I tuned back in, “why don’t you catch Paula and Gary in Berkeley? And maybe Leo at his gallery on your way back. Find out where they all were this morning. I’ll do Iris. I wanna look at her hand collection again. And Ken. Maybe I’ll get to see his ant farm this time.”

“Fine,” I said, too rushed to even think about it. I took another look at my watch. “I really have to go,” I told her.

She gave me a quick hug. “Thanks,” she whispered and let me go.

I was almost out the door when she called out to me. I turned back reluctantly.

“Find out if Leo really had a heart attack,” she ordered with a grin.

“All right,” I agreed. “Will you do something in return?”

She nodded.

“Say goodbye to Vesta for me.”

I could hear her chuckling as I ran out the door.

It wasn’t until I was stuck in rush hour traffic on the Richmond Bridge that I realized I had agreed to see suspects alone. And so had Barbara. In my hurry, I had forgotten the buddy rule. Maybe I had forgotten on purpose. It felt so good to be in my car
alone
, even in the middle of traffic. I reviewed suspects in my mind the rest of the way down the highway to the Jest Gifts warehouse. And I couldn’t make any of them into a murderer. Maybe Zach did do it, I thought as I pulled into the warehouse parking lot. It was nearly five o’clock.

Judy had found the signed checks after all, in a locked drawer where she had moved them for safety’s sake a week ago. And she had received the C.O.D. package. Only the package wasn’t ours. It was full of auto-body parts. Tomorrow, I told her. It will all be straightened out tomorrow. There was probably an auto-body shop in the area wondering why they received a package of gag gifts. All we had to do was find them and make the exchange. It took me ten more minutes to locate the ambulance-chaser mugs, and another five to restore the files that Judy had erased. Then I was on the road again, heading for Paula and Gary’s house.

I pulled my car into their driveway hesitantly. I was hot and sweaty from driving. And my mind was shouting out warnings. If either Paula Pierce or Gary Powell was a murderer, one of them would be sure to protect the other. And that would make it two against one in confrontation. I took a long, deep breath and forced myself to climb out of the womb of my Toyota. A light breeze came by to cool my damp skin as I marched up to the stucco house and rang the bell.

I heard the thunder of paws behind the door along with a full chorus of threatening barks and frantic yips. Now it was six against one if you included the poodle, the Labrador retriever and the beagles. I waited five long minutes for the sound of a human voice, but never heard one. Even the dogs seemed to have lost interest by the time I gave up and left, only occasionally yipping half-heartedly.

I was more relieved than disappointed as I returned to my car, my pursuit unrewarded.

But it was a different story when I got to Leo’s gallery. I slunk in the Conn-Tempo door, made my way around the seven steel breasts on the metal monstrosity in the middle of the room and came face to face with Leo himself.

“Hello there, beautiful,” he purred. His breath almost knocked me over. Either he had spent the day drinking or he was marinating himself in red wine in preparation for broiling. He cocked an eyebrow at me as he stroked his beard. “Haven’t I met you someplace—?”

His jaw fell open before he could finish his own sentence. He must have recognized me. He backpedaled frantically, stumbling over the outstretched leg of a bronze nude. His close-set eyes widened.

“I just—” I began, afraid for a moment he was going to have another heart attack.

“Stay away from me!” he shrieked. “Just stay away from me!” Then he turned and ran.

I watched as his pear-shaped body disappeared through the door behind another naked lady, this one carved in stone.

A few minutes later, Ophelia emerged from the same doorway, her long legs showy in sparkling metallic tights under a green miniskirt.

“How may I help you?” she asked, projecting her voice as if from the stage. Then she whispered, “Up there,” and pointed toward the front of the gallery.

“He can’t hear us now,” she explained once we had hustled on up to the front. “So what’s the old guy done now?” she asked, her freckled face alive with curiosity.

“I’m not sure,” I told her honestly. “Was he in this morning?”

“Nah,” she said. “He never comes in before twelve. He rolled in here today around four, drunk as a skunk.” She stuck her tongue out, put her finger down her throat and made gagging noises. I assumed she was just commenting on Leo’s excessive drinking and not really going to throw up.

“Did he tell you he had a heart attack?” I asked hastily.

She took her finger out of her throat and looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Uh-uh,” she said, shaking her head. “Did he?”

I thought for a moment. “I don’t actually think so,” I answered slowly.

Ophelia straightened her back suddenly.

“He’s watching us,” she whispered out of the side of her mouth. “Pretend you’re looking at something.”

So I looked at some expensive abstract paintings, a few even more expensive carvings of naked ladies and one large welded God-knows-what that was priced at twelve thousand dollars. I could have bought a new car if I’d had that kind of money to spare. As I left the gallery, I wondered if Meg’s carrot was a bargain at two thousand.

The sky had taken on the luminous quality of twilight by the time I dragged myself back up my front stairs. I was tired, hungry and unhappy. I had three days’ worth of Jest Gifts work to do in one evening. I was no nearer to knowing who had killed Sheila Snyder than I had been a week ago. And I was dreading another confrontation with Vesta. I looked up at the sky as I reached the top of the stairs, taking one last moment to enjoy the shimmering twilight.