If the Shoe Kills (4 page)

If this was the way he treated all his host business owners, no wonder he had trouble placing people even with the enticement of free labor. No one wanted to work with a jerk belittling them for helping out. After this was over, I was finding out who managed the Work Today program and filing a formal complaint about their program director. My voice alone might not be able to make a difference, but maybe I wasn't the first to protest.

Emma had chased away the gulls from the half-eaten fish and was nosing around the corpse, trying to decide if she should claim it for dinner. I called her away. I didn't need my dog smelling like dead fish. Besides, I had a chicken potpie to put in the oven and the rest of the mystery waiting for me at home. Time to check out and relax. I'd leave planning Ted's demise for tomorrow's to-do list.

By five, the book was finished and I'd forgotten to take the pie out of the freezer. I'd written up a cute review for the meeting and I'd done a load of laundry. As I slumped into the couch, I wondered if Greg had eaten. I could surprise him with a basket of Lille's fried chicken and one of Sadie's pies from the freezer. I put a chocolate silk pie on the counter. I'd call Lille's before leaving the house and, by six, we'd be having a romantic dinner in Greg's office.

I let Emma outside and sprinted upstairs, pleased with my impromptu Wednesday date plans.

 

Carrie helped me pack the woven picnic basket I'd lined with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth. The pie sat at the bottom and I'd slipped in a couple bottles of a locally produced root beer from my stash.

“Greg is going to flip when you come in with this.” Carrie grinned as she tucked the box of chicken on top of the pie and added a tub of mashed potatoes and gravy to the side. “You know this is what he orders probably three days a week when he shows up here for lunch.”

I frowned, looking down at what I'd thought would be the perfect dinner. “Did he come in today?”

She laughed. “Nope. Esmeralda came in and got sandwiches for him and Tim. But I bet even if he had, he'd still love this.” She peered at me as she slipped biscuits into a plastic bag. “Greg's lucky to have you.”

I blushed. “We're dating. I'm supposed to do nice things for him.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn't believe the way his ex treated him. I mean, when Sherry came in here with him for dinner, you could see her steaming that he hadn't taken her someplace nice. She even ticked Lille off one day, asking for a sparkling water.”

I grinned, even though I didn't want to hear Sherry stories. I could see Lille getting upset. “I take it she got tap.”

“And Lille slammed the glass down in front of her. I swear, Greg had to hold them off each other before he got the two of them calmed down.” Carrie smiled at the memory. She folded up the arms of the basket. “Anyway, you're a peach. Don't forget that.”

I paid for the food, waved good-bye to Carrie, and walked out of the diner. The basket was heavy now with all the food, and worse, it smelled divine. My stomach grumbled in protest. “One more block,” I whispered. As I came toward City Hall, Greg's truck sat parked right where I'd seen it earlier. The man hadn't even left. Inventory days were brutal.

Then I saw the red Mustang, next to the truck. I had to walk past the front of the building to get to the door leading to the police station on the side. An eight-foot chain link blocked my access from this side.
Just walk fast
, I thought.
Maybe he's still inside with the mayor.

I sped past the truck, but when I got in front of the Mustang, I snuck a peek toward the car. Ted Hendricks sat in the front seat. “Damn,” I muttered, then slipped on a customer service smile and waved with my free hand.

He didn't wave back.

I leaned closer. Ted's head was at an odd angle and there was splatter on the windows. I set the basket down on the sidewalk and took a step closer. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed a number.

“Hey, beautiful.” Greg's voice filled my ear, but my eyes wouldn't leave the sight in front of me.

“You need to come out front.”

Greg chuckled. “Carrie already told me about the surprise when I called to order dinner. Just come in, the side door is unlocked, and we'll eat in the break room. I don't want to lock up the station.”

“Greg, you need to come out front.” My voice caught. “Ted Hendricks is out here.”

Greg's voice hardened. “Is he bothering you? I swear, that guy is ballsy.”

I swallowed. “He's not bothering me. I think he's dead.”

I
sat in the police station's break room with the cooling basket of food. Greg was out front somewhere, handling the crime scene. I couldn't stop seeing the look on Ted's face, slack and almost peaceful, if not for the blood caking around his flowing blond locks. I shivered and closed my eyes, trying to block the memory.

I had cleaned all the tables, stacked the magazines, shelved the used paperbacks in alphabetical order, and was considering reshelving by genre when Greg came into the break room.

“How you doing, sweetheart?” He took my hand and sat me on the orange plastic couch, pulling me into a hug. “You ready to talk about what you saw?”

My breath hitched. “Can you even question me? Isn't that a conflict of interest or something?” Truth was, I didn't want to talk, not to Greg or anyone, really.

Greg shook his head. “Clearly it's a suicide. The mayor said he'd fought with Ted this afternoon. Marvin told him that he was calling the administrator of the program and getting him kicked off the job.”

“Mayor Baylor said that?” I didn't think the guy cared if Ted was a bully, even if the participants going through the program were vulnerable.

“Well, there was also the matter of the kickback Ted was trying to force out of the mayor. Money, it's always about money.” Greg stood up and went to the table, opening the basket. He pulled out one of the biscuits. “I'm starving. I can't leave until Doc Ames gets here for the body. I've got Toby out there holding the fort for a few minutes.”

“Ted was blackmailing the mayor?” I frowned. Something didn't make sense. “Then how do you know it's suicide? Maybe Mayor Baylor killed him?”

Greg laughed and almost choked on the bite of biscuit he'd just taken. After he'd stopped coughing, he shook his head. “Honey, you always see trouble. Ted put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger. I'm sure Doc Ames will find gunshot residue on his hands as well and confirm the obvious.” He pulled out a chicken leg. “You want some?”

My stomach turned. There was no way I could eat, not now. I shook my head. “I don't think I'll be eating anything for a few days.”

Greg put the chicken back into the box. “Sorry, I'm being insensitive. I guess after what I've seen on the job, you tend to compartmentalize.”

I held my hand up to stop him from stepping back to the couch. “Go ahead, eat. You'll probably be working late, you need the energy.”

Greg sank into a chair at the table and unpacked the basket. “This was nice of you.”

“Even if Carrie couldn't keep a secret?” I stood and walked over to the table, grabbing one of the bottles of root beer.

“Don't blame her. She thought you were already here, and she'd forgotten to pack something.” Greg chuckled as he made a volcano pocket out of his mashed potatoes to hold the gravy.

I thought about my walk to the police station. I'd been happy. Now all I could see was the red Mustang. Not that I cared that Ted was dead. The guy had been a jerk, but no one should die that way. Especially not because of a fight. “So, what do you want to know?” I wanted to leave, to go home, cuddle with Emma on the couch, and watch
Harry Potter
again. Maybe all eight movies.

“Everything you remember from when you left Diamond Lille's to when you called me.” Greg started tearing apart the chicken.

“I don't know, I walked. The basket was heavy. I saw your truck in the same spot where it was this afternoon when I walked home. Then I saw Ted's car and wondered if I could walk around the building to avoid running into him or the mayor.” I sipped the syrupy drink. “Especially since he'd called and yelled at me during my run.”

“The mayor?” Greg paused, holding the chicken halfway to his mouth.

I shook my head. “Nope. Ted. He wasn't happy that Mindy's assignment got changed last minute when Marie cancelled the class.”

“Why would he care?” Greg's voice was thoughtful.

“Because he had to be in control of everything.” I ripped a biscuit in half and took a bite, but the buttery delight didn't faze my bad mood. “He's a jerk.” I stopped and set down the biscuit. “I mean, he was a jerk.”

Toby stood at the doorway. “Sorry to bother you, Greg, but the reporter and news crew are here from Bakerstown. Do you want to talk to them, or will the mayor?”

“I'm coming out.” Greg wiped his face with a napkin and leaned in to give me a quick kiss. “I'll have Toby run you home.”

“I can walk.” Suddenly, though, I felt dog-tired. All I wanted was to get home.

“Tough guy.” He smiled. “Toby, run your other boss home please.”

Toby ushered me to the back of the building, where his personal car, a '69 Chevy Camaro sat. “I don't have to ride in the cruiser?” I glared at him.

“Figured you've had a bad day. Don't want to give the news hounds a false lead, seeing you carted off.” Toby grinned and unlocked the car. I sank into the leather seat. “Sorry you had to see that.”

I shook my head. “I don't understand why he'd do it. Ted was in love with himself. He wouldn't just end his life.”

“You never know what problems people are carrying around. Maybe Ted's past caught up with him and he couldn't go on?” Toby eased the car into the alley and went down to Gull Street, turning out onto Main next to Diamond Lille's and away from the circus at City Hall.

“Secrets,” I whispered as I watched the road ahead, thinking about what concerns Ted could have held that would have driven him to such an extreme end.

Emma smelled the fried chicken on my clothes, even though I hadn't eaten anything, and nuzzled my hand. “Sorry, girl, no leftovers.” I went over to the stove and turned on the heat under the kettle. A nice cup of tea, a hot bath, then right to bed. Tomorrow was another day. But I wondered when I'd stop thinking about the red Mustang.

Aunt Jackie called after I'd been lying in bed, not sleeping, for an hour. I glanced at the clock. Eight thirty. No wonder my body didn't want to fall asleep.

“Jill, are you all right?” Jackie sounded worried. I heard a party going on behind her words, big band music floating through the speaker.

“I'm fine. A little shaken up, but fine.” I pulled on my robe and went downstairs with my cup to warm my tea.

“I'm calling to tell you I'll open the shop tomorrow. My ride is bringing me home in a few minutes.” Jackie gushed through the phone. “I was so worried about you.”

“Wait, how did you hear?” I got a new tea bag out of the cupboard.

“The bar where the party is being held had the news channel on. Apparently it's a big deal when someone with political ties takes his own life.”

“Wait, what?” I couldn't have heard her right. “Who was Ted?”

“The Hendricks family is some shirttail relation to a former president. I guess when the old man was in power, they kind of ruled the Washington scene.” I heard Jackie mumble something. “Look, I've got to go. Don't worry about opening, come into the shop or not, Toby and I will cover.”

And with that, my aunt clicked the phone off. I set my cup next to my laptop and fired it up. I might as well find out what the scoop was on Ted.

Two hours later, my notebook and my brain were filled with Ted facts. He'd been born into a powerful Washington family. His dad had been an ambassador to more countries than I thought existed. And from the pictures, his mother had been the perfect political wife, beautiful on the arm and her spare time spent on charity work. She mainly focused on child welfare rights, but her name had been associated with some commission on repairing the welfare system twenty years ago.

They had three boys. One had died in a skiing accident as the youngest competitor accepted for the Olympic ski team. One was a lawyer back in DC. And Ted, obviously the slacker of the bunch. The online news outlets said he worked for a local social service agency, following his mother's dream of social equality. From what I'd gleaned over the last few weeks, Ted didn't so much support the ideal of working oneself out of poverty, he just liked pushing people around.

Of course, the sanitized version of his life didn't include his temper. Or probably, the multiple abuse charges that Greg had found in the background check. No, now that the guy was dead, he was an angel.

I was ready to turn off the computer and head back upstairs when I saw the last paragraph of an article. “Ted Hendricks suffered a tremendous loss when his wife, the love of his life and his high school sweetheart, vanished in an apparent kidnapping scheme. Even after the million-dollar ransom had been wired to an offshore account, Katherine Janell Corbet Hendricks was never released. Authorities assumed she'd been killed by the kidnappers.” A picture of a young girl in a wedding dress standing alone at the altar ready to take her vows was at the bottom of the page.

The frightened girl in the picture, especially with the expression of fear cloaking her eyes, appeared to be a very young Marie Jones.

Checking the time on my cell, I realized it was already ten thirty. If Greg was done with the investigation, he hadn't called. And if he had been done, he would have called to check in on me. I knew that much. I stared at the picture on the screen. Greg would tell me I was seeing problems where there weren't any. Tell me that Ted had committed suicide.

I glanced at the flyer that still sat on my table. One I'd picked up from the pile Marie had given out at the business meeting, announcing a new Thursday night class. I closed down the computer and put the flyer in my purse. I dialed Amy's number.

“Hey, I just heard. You want me to come over with a bottle of rum and a six-pack of Coke?” Amy didn't even let me say hello. “Or maybe wine? I've got a couple of bottles from the trip Justin and I took last weekend to Napa.”

“Neither. I'm fine.” I leaned back into my chair. “I do need a favor, though.”

“Anything.”

“I want you to take a stained-glass class with me.”

The line was so quiet, I thought I must have lost her. I pulled the phone away from my ear and glanced at the display; no, it said we were still connected. “Amy?”

“I'm here. Just not what I thought you'd ask.” She was quiet again. “Is everything okay? I mean, a stained-glass class? Doesn't seem like your kind of thing.”

“I can be crafty,” I protested.

And my friend laughed. Not a polite chuckle, but a big, uncontrollable laugh where your eyes tear up and tears roll down your face. If we'd been together, I would have smacked her, just for good measure.

“Ha, ha.” I interrupted. “If you're done making fun of me, will you do it? I'd ask Sadie, but with the holidays coming up, she's swamped with baking.”

Amy sniffed, and I could imagine her wiping the moisture from her eyes. “You couldn't pay me to stay away.”

“Tomorrow night at seven at The Glass Slipper. I'll call Marie and sign us up first thing in the morning.” I paused. “Thanks, Amy.”

“I don't know what you're looking for, but I'd follow you almost anywhere to help you find it, you know. We're buds.”

“And you're totally taking pictures of this, aren't you?”

“Damn right.” She clicked off the phone.

Tomorrow I would be a Crafty Cathy and take a stained-glass workshop to make my own Christmas ornaments. And maybe in the process I could prove who Marie Jones really was, one way or the other.

If anyone found out I was taking one of Marie's classes, I'd be laughed out of the room. Everyone knew that I was too klutzy to be crafty. This secret spy thing was hell on my reputation.