Little Shop of Homicide (30 page)

“Let me check.” Jake rustled some papers. “Nope. It was wiped clean.”

As I pondered why one weapon was wiped clean and one had prints, Jake was called away. He hung up before I could say more, but I didn’t care. Joelle’s killer had been identified. And it wasn’t me.

At the end of our conversation, Jake had sworn me to secrecy, so I couldn’t share the good news with Poppy or Boone, but he had allowed me to tell Gran. He understood that it wasn’t fair to let her keep worrying about me.

On my way home from work that night, I stopped at the grocery store and bought two filet mignons with all the fixings, and she and I celebrated my freedom. But after supper, as we watched TV together, questions began to plague me.

How had Etienne found Joelle? If law enforcement couldn’t trace her true identity, how had he located her? Someone in town must have tipped him off, but how had that person known who she really was?

Four people would benefit if Joelle’s secret was revealed, and all of their motives revolved around preventing her from marrying Noah. Nadine didn’t think Joelle was good enough for her son, the mayor wanted
Joelle for himself, and Anya and Gwen each wanted Noah for herself.

Nadine and presumably the mayor had alibis, but not Anya or Gwen. My money was on one of them. During the next commercial, I told Gran I was going to the bathroom, and then phoned Jake.

Once I had run my theory past him, he said, “Even if you’re right, and one of those two women told Aponte where he could find Joelle, it isn’t important right now. The police have him in custody and he’s been charged with his wife’s murder.”

“But how about Noah’s key card? Shouldn’t someone check it out to see if someone really switched cards?”

“Yes. An officer from Kansas City has already picked it up from Underwood and talked to the doc’s receptionist, who confirms his story.” Jake’s tone was soothing. “I’ll pass your theory about Anya or Gwen informing Aponte about his wife’s whereabouts on to the KC cops so they can strengthen their case, but you’re in the clear. You can leave the rest of the investigation to the police.”

I
woke up the next day smiling. I was a free woman. I had been instrumental in clearing my name, and I hadn’t waited for a man to rescue me. To top it all off, Jake was coming back to Shadow Bend. He’d said he’d probably get into town around one, but he wanted to check on Tony and do some chores at the ranch before picking me up at six to celebrate my newfound freedom.

Since the store closed at noon on Thursdays, I used the afternoon to work on baskets, take inventory, and pay bills. Although only the first task was fun, I found myself singing along with Lady Gaga on the radio while doing the others. I even boogied a little. And believe me, I never dance.

It was almost two o’clock when my cell signaled that I had a text. Once I found the phone hidden under a stack of order forms on the counter, I saw a message from Poppy that read: 911… GC… NOW!

Oh, my God!
What kind of emergency could there be at Gossip Central?

Instantly, I grabbed my coat and purse, locked up the store, and texted back: OMW. Then I was in my car heading to Poppy’s bar.

What in the world could have happened? It couldn’t be man trouble. Poppy wasn’t involved with anyone currently.
If she was being robbed, she’d have called the county sheriff. Maybe she’d had an accident, phoned for the ambulance, and been told it could take a long time for the EMTs to arrive since they were already tied up with another emergency.

It had been snowing for a couple of hours, and the temperature hovered a few degrees below freezing, making the roads slick. Shadow Bend had only three ambulances—and the news of one being in the garage for repairs had made the front page of the paper. If there had been a multicar crash, the other two units would be unavailable. I just hoped that I could make it to Gossip Central without becoming another weather-related casualty.

Torn between the need for speed and the knowledge that my little car wasn’t built for icy conditions, I finally compromised by going faster than was completely safe but slower than I wanted to go.

When I turned into the bar’s parking lot fifteen minutes later, Poppy’s SUV wasn’t in sight. In fact, the only vehicle in the lot was a bright yellow Corvette that I didn’t recognize. Maybe someone had stopped by, seen that Poppy was sick or injured, and driven her to the hospital in the Hummer, which could handle the bad weather a lot better than a ’Vette.

The snow was coming down heavier than when I left the store, and the sign over the Gossip Central’s entrance was crusted in white. I hadn’t bothered with a hat, scarf, or gloves, and when I sprang out of my car, the icy flakes drove into my exposed skin like a thousand tiny bee stings.

Shivering, I sprinted up the steps. The door was wide open and a snowdrift had formed over the threshold. Something was seriously wrong. As I rushed inside, I felt a prickle at the back of my neck, which turned into an all-out shudder when I heard the sound of the dead bolt sliding into place behind me.

I wheeled around just in time to see Anya Hamilton level a gun at my heart.

*    *    *

Jake felt a twinge of unease when his cell rang. Who would be calling him from County General Hospital?

“Jake, this is Poppy. Where are you?”

“I’m at the ranch.”

“Thank God.”

“Why?” Jake’s heart stuttered. “Has something happened to Devereaux?”

“I hope not.” Poppy faltered. “But you need to go to my bar immediately because I think she’s in big trouble.”

“I’m on my way.” Jake jammed the phone between his ear and shoulder and shrugged on his jacket. “Now tell me what’s happened.”

“Gossip Central doesn’t open until four p.m. on weekdays, but everyone knows I’m usually there doing paperwork, cleaning, or stocking the bar several hours before then,” Poppy explained.

“I see.” Jake knew that witnesses had to tell their stories in their own way, and trying to hurry them just made the process take longer.

“About an hour ago, there was a knock on the door and when I opened it, Anya Hamilton was on the step. She said she had stopped by to pay her bar tab, so I let her in.” Poppy snorted. “That should have been my first clue that something was up—Anya never pays until I’m almost ready to sic the bill collector on her.”

“Right.” Jake jammed his key in the truck’s ignition and sped down the lane.

“As soon as she was inside, she asked to use the restroom. Then while she was gone, I got a call from the hospital saying my father had had a heart attack.” Poppy paused to take a breath, then continued. “Anya was still in the bathroom, so I shouted for her to lock up, threw a key on the bar, and left.”

Jake turned the pickup onto the main road and mashed the accelerator to the floor.

“When I got to the hospital, no one knew anything about my father, so I started to phone my mother and
realized the call about my dad had come in on Gossip Central’s landline. I never even thought to grab my cell before I left.”

“Uh-huh.” Jake swerved around a slow-moving Buick.

“The hospital let me use their telephone to call my dad, and he’s fine. But when I phoned my mom, she knew right away I was calling from the hospital, which made me realize that on the call I received at Gossip Central, there was no name on the ID, just ‘Missouri caller.’”

“That is odd.” Jake glanced at his watch. He was still a good five minutes from Gossip Central, and Poppy had to have been gone from the bar at least a half hour before she called him.

“Somebody wanted me out of the bar.” Poppy’s voice was a mixture of fury and fear. “And I’m pretty sure it was Anya. I think she shut off the ID thingy on her cell and called me from the bathroom.”

Jake felt his insides clench. “So what makes you think Devereaux is in danger?” As the words left his mouth, he recalled Devereaux’s conviction that either Anya or Gwen had tipped off Aponte as to his wife’s whereabouts.

“What if Anya killed Joelle?” Poppy asked.

“Someone has already been arrested for that murder.”

“But it’s possible the police have the wrong person in custody,” Poppy pointed out. “And if Anya is the killer, and her next target is Dev, what better place to lure her to than her best friend’s empty bar? Dev wouldn’t hesitate to go to Gossip Central, and there are no nosy neighbors that might notice something unusual happening.”

“Why would Anya want to kill Devereaux?” Jake asked.

“Because, the other night in the bar Anya was raging that no one was getting between her and Noah now that he was up for grabs again. And when Gwen suggested the good doctor still had a thing for Dev, Anya went berserk.
She poured a whole container of margaritas over her friend’s head and threw the empty pitcher against the wall.”

“Son of a b—!”

“Exactly.” Poppy paused, then added, “There’s a key to the back door in a fake rock next to the steps.”

“Where’s Poppy?” I demanded. Had Anya gone crazy and killed her? “And what’s with the gun?”

I noticed that Anya was wearing a leopard-print T-shirt with the words YOU SAY PETTY & VINDICTIVE LIKE IT’S A BAD THING written across her impressive chest. That message scared me almost as much as the pistol she was waving in my face.

“Shut up!” Anya stepped closer, grabbed my arm, and turned me around. Pressing the gun into my back, she forced me to walk past the bar and across the dance floor into one of the conversation areas. This one was a favorite of the Country Club Cougars, since it was decorated in pink and blinged out with fake jewels.

“What’s going on?” I stopped at the entrance, not wanting to be trapped in such a small space, but Anya pushed me toward the opposite wall. She shoved me down on a rose velvet chaise longue and stood facing me as I asked, “Is Poppy okay?”

“Your friend is fine. I just arranged for her to be gone for a while so we could have a nice chat in private. She was kind enough to leave her cell phone so I could use it to text you.” Anya’s hazel eyes were filled with a childish resentment. “And I told you to shut up. Why can’t any of you people do as you’re told?”

“Any of us?” If Anya was going to kill me, I didn’t plan on going gently, or silently, into that good night.

“Joelle. Etienne. Noah.” Anya waved the revolver around wildly. “Everyone.”

“I don’t understand.” Actually, I was afraid I did understand, but I wanted Anya to say it. If I was going to die, I wanted her to be caught, and I was counting on
Poppy’s concealed voice-activated listening devices to pick up her confession.

“I planned for Noah to marry me, but then Joelle flounces into town and steals him right out from under my nose.” Anya’s red face clashed with the pink decor. “And now that I’ve cleared that obstacle away, you think you’re going to snatch him up?”

“No.” Now that she reminded me, I had heard that Noah had taken Anya out a couple of times, but I was pretty sure they were never officially a couple or someone would have mentioned it to me. “I’m not interested in Noah. I’m going out with Jake Del Vecchio. Remember, you were teasing me about him at the coffee tasting?”

“You might be screwing Tall, Dark, and Hot—I saw you at the hotel Saturday night—but you’ve got your eye on Noah for the altar.”

“Were you the one who called the tip in to the police about me being at the Parkside?” Everything was coming together. “You’ve been following me, haven’t you?”

“Of course.” Anya raised a brow. “Ever since you and Noah had that lovely long talk at the Manor the other day, and I heard he’d been saying such nice things about you.”

“Our conversation was about Joelle’s murder. Nothing else.”

“You can’t fool me.” Anya shook her head stubbornly. “I saw you go to his house Tuesday night.”

“That was about Joelle, too.” I could see I wasn’t convincing Anya, so I switched gears and tried flattery. “How in the world did you pull off Joelle’s murder? You must be a genius.”

“It wasn’t easy.” Anya cradled the pistol to her breasts like a puppy, and said thoughtfully, “It all started when Joelle and Noah got engaged. Up until then, I thought he’d get over her like he had all of his other little flings.”

“But he didn’t.” I knew that Noah had dated quite a bit, although usually not the same woman more than once or twice. “How did you figure out that Joelle wasn’t who she said she was?”

“I was looking for something to discredit her, and I was suspicious that she was so secretive about her past, so I broke into her condo.”

“Without her knowing?” I peeked at my watch. It had been nearly fifteen minutes since I had arrived. Maybe if I could keep Anya talking, Poppy would come back or a delivery guy would show up.

“Sure. It was simple to get in. Joelle had the kind of lock that if you turned the inside knob, it opens, which meant that if you stuck a credit card between the door and the jamb, and jiggled it, the lock button pops up.” Anya smiled meanly. “The only thing a cheap, wooden hollow-core front door and a button popup lock are good for is to keep the Jehovah’s Witnesses out.”

“Wow.” I made sure my tone was admiring. “I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well, I dated a locksmith once,” Anya explained. “It took me less than an hour to find Joelle’s stash. She had rolled all her old identification papers and stuffed them into a hollow shower rod.”