Loose Lips (25 page)

“This.” Laura pointed to the picture. “This
was Saturday afternoon. We thought she was snooping around because
she thought he’d killed Missy, or was even doing actual church
work.”

I worked backward in time, two days that
felt like weeks. “They found the notes at Joe’s Sunday
morning.”

Betty nodded. “And someone called in that
tip too.”

“Did you see her break in?” I asked.

Laura shook her head. “She just walked
around, tucked a few of her flyers in the doors and left. She was
probably just checking things out and came back later to get
in.”

We talked for another hour, each of us
filling in what the others didn’t know.

At the end of it, I was feeling quite proud
of us. We’d solved everything.

Betty, though, had to throw a wrench into
it. “So, Kristi killed Missy?”

Phoebe narrowed her eyes in concentration.
“What we know for sure... She’s a fraud, running the
WIL
ers and presenting herself as holier than all of us and
the choir, and she’s tried to frame Lucy for the murder, at least
twice.”

“What about Joe?” I asked.

Phoebe nodded. “Joe at least once too. He
could
have found the stocking in the dumpster. You haven’t
asked him, have you?”

I shook my head.

“But it could have been in the box too,”
Laura added, pointing out what we had already said, that the boxes
had been delivered to Joe first.

“Could be.” Betty chimed in. “That box was
open. He could have dug around to see what was inside and the
stocking could have just fallen out.” She made a downward twirling
motion with her hand.

A stocking falling, I guessed.

Laura began gathering up pictures. “Which
would mean she was going for Lucy, and Joe just stumbled into her
plot.”

“So, everything points to Kristi.”

Everyone nodded. Slowly, but in
agreement.

Kristi was the killer.

Except we still hadn’t discussed why. I
posed the question to the group.

“Why would a madam kill one of her girls?”
Laura countered.

Betty held up one hand and started ticking
off each finger. “Because she wanted to go straight. Because she
threatened to turn the madam in. Because she wanted to go out on
her own. Because the madam was jealous of her girl’s youth and
vitality—”

“Okay, okay.” I put my hand on Betty’s,
pushing hers down. “There are plenty of reasons. The question now
is: How do we prove it was her?”

Everyone leaned back in their chairs to
think. No one suggested we leave this part to the police. We were
too close, and the police were obviously already being led around
by Kristi. Why would they believe us now?

No. We had to prove she was the killer
first. Get real evidence and then we would call them.

With that agreed on, we began plotting.

“What will prove that she killed Missy?”
Laura asked.

“The murder weapon,” Phoebe suggested.

“And we know she has that,” I replied.

“Except,” Laura interrupted. “How do we know
that the one she has is the real murder weapon and not the one the
police found at Joe’s.”

“Maybe she used them both,” Betty suggested
a tad too cheerfully.

Phoebe frowned. “Either way there’s probably
a chain of custody issue with it.”

I wasn’t sure she had the term right, or if
that mattered outside of police hands, but I got what she was
saying. If I’d had the stocking and now Kristi had the stocking,
what did that prove? Plus Joe had a stocking. Way too much
traveling around of female undergarments for just being caught with
one to hold all that much weight... or enough weight to insure
Joe’s release and Kristi’s arrest.

“We need to pin down motive and opportunity
then.” Laura tapped a finger against the table.

“Or...” Betty leaned forward and narrowed
her eyes. “We get a rat to squeal.”

Turned out the rat Betty had in mind was
Rachel.

It made sense. She was the one who could
testify about the kiosk’s side business. She was also the one with
potentially the most to lose with Kristi on the loose.

“She could be in danger too,” Laura said,
although I couldn’t see that the cheese–lover was all that
disturbed by this idea.

“If Kristi killed one Cutie, there’s no
reason to think she might not kill another,” Phoebe agreed.

“We need to get her alone, but where and
how?” I asked.

Laura stared at me long enough that I felt
the need to shift in my seat.

“Exactly how well do you know Darrell
Deere?”

o0o

Eight o’clock that night, I was once again
inside the Deere mansion. Feeling, if possible, even more
uncomfortable than I had either of the other two times.

I’d called in a favor from Cindy while
perhaps giving her the impression that I might be thinking of
coming clean to Peter about our adventures in painting, and other
item, retrieval.

It seemed Darrell had reported the break in
and then promptly left town.

“He’s hiding,” Cindy announced as she
unlocked the door. “Mother finally decided enough was enough and
got her act together. She sent the process server while the cops
were here, and he snuck out the back.”

Normally, this would have been some prime
gossip, but I was too anxious about my upcoming conversation to
enjoy it.

Key dangling from her finger, she eyed me.
“You aren’t going to take anything else, are you? You know the
police have been here. They’ll know if anything of value is
gone.”

“I told you. I just want to get some
pictures.” I motioned to the camera that Laura had loaned me for my
act.

“Okay...” She handed me the keys. “Lock up
when you’re done and then drop off the keys. Call first though.”
She checked her watch. “I have an appointment, and I’m not sure how
long it will take.”

Ten minutes later, there was a soft knock on
the door. I went to let Phoebe and Laura in. Betty was hiding
behind the hedge, playing look out.

“Is she gone?” I asked, referring to
Cindy.

“Left the alley,” Phoebe replied. Laura
confirmed this with a nod.

“When’s Rachel supposed to get here?” I
asked.

“Ten minutes or so. Betty will text us when
she spots her.”

“How’d you get her to come?” I asked
next.

Laura held up a phone. “It’s my husband’s.
There’s an app. For coffee delivery.” She snorted. “His password
was like him... stupid easy.”

“So, does she think she’s meeting with him?”
I wasn’t all that tech savvy, but if Laura had used her husband’s
password, it made sense that the appointment would be tied back to
him.”

Laura motioned to Phoebe.

“We didn’t make the appointment as Rick. We
made it as Darrell. We just used Rick’s phone and hit ‘new
user.’”

“But Darrell would have already had an
account.”

Phoebe smiled. “That’s why I sent a message
along with it saying my phone had been stolen in the break–in.”

The break–in had made the news. Rachel would
have seen that. “That was good,” I acknowledged. “I wouldn’t have
thought of that.”

Phoebe tilted her head. “Past life.”

Again, I wanted to ask... again, I
didn’t.

My phone dinged, indicating a text from
Betty.

Rachel had arrived.

While Phoebe and Laura hid, I went to the
door to wait.

When the knock sounded, I turned the knob
and stepped back so that Rachel wouldn’t see me, at least at
first.

Rachel, however, didn’t move, forcing me to
step into view.

“Lucy? I thought... What are you doing here?
I was—”

Betty appeared behind her. “We know what you
‘was.’”

And with that ominous announcement, my fine
feathered friend hustled the suspected hooker inside.

Phoebe and Laura were in full view,
waiting.

Rachel spun on us. “What is this?” Her voice
rose and her hand went to her heart. “Is this... oh, my... it was
you? You killed Missy, and now you’re going to kill me? Why here?
Are you going to... you’re going to frame—” Her mouth snapped
closed.

“We didn’t...” I began, but Betty cut me
off. She shoved me to the side and got into Rachel’s space as
intimidating as a puffed up cat in her feathered jacket.

“Frame who? Why’d
you
come
here
? Who and what were you expecting?”

Rachel paled. “Darrell Deere, of course. He
owns this mansion and he’s a good customer of the kiosk. Part of
our new home delivery service.” She looked at me. “I told you we
were starting one.”

My employee wasn’t flustered. “Uh huh.
Where’s the coffee?”

Rachel glanced back at the door and
brightened. “In my car. I was going to ask Darrell to help me carry
it in. He orders in bulk.”

“I just bet he does...” Betty mumbled.

Laura stepped forward, arm stretched out and
phone on. “Recognize this?”

Rachel blinked. “That’s our new app. It
needs some tweaking, but it works fairly well. It’s how I knew
Darrell was ready for more coffee. Wait...” She glanced around.
“Did you do something to Darrell? He’s an old man.” Her lower lip
quivered.

Betty snorted. “He’s a randy goat.”

“I really don’t know what you’re talking
about, but you’re making me very uncomfortable. I think I need to
leave now.” Rachel moved toward the door.

Betty blocked her.

The two stood off, Rachel taking a step to
the right, Betty to the left. Rachel left... Betty right.

Finally, Phoebe broke the pattern with a
yell. “Enough!”

We all turned to look at her.

“We know the kiosk is a front for
prostitution.” She motioned for Laura to step forward.

The cheese lover did, photos in hand.

Without commenting, Rachel thumbed through
them. Slowly, her eyebrow raised and she began to chuckle. “These
are just pictures of me and some of the other Cuties out at events.
You may think we’re beneath you, but that doesn’t mean we don’t get
invited places.” She gave me a look. An
et tu
look.

This was not, I sensed, going well.

Laura didn’t seem to have picked up on that
yet. She pointed to the one of Rachel with Kristi. “What about
this?”

“Kristi? She’s a tad uptight and judgmental,
but not all bad. She invited me to her church. Her intentions are
good, I guess.”

“Good? You might want to rethink that,”
Betty bellowed.

Laura nodded. “Or you could be the next one
found dead.”

Rachel glanced around again. “What are you
talking about?”

We spilled it all then. The stocking, the
pills, the pictures of Kristi at Joe’s right before the new
“evidence” against him had been found.

Phoebe took control of the conversation by
stepping to the front. “It’s obvious what she’s doing, and if you
don’t go to the police and tell them what you know, she might just
decide to eliminate another risk.”

Rachel nodded in a way that showed that she
was thinking, but didn’t reveal in any way
what
she was
thinking. Possibly that the world would be safer if we were all
locked up away from normal rational human beings. “Well, I
appreciate your concern, but I really do think I need to be going
now. That is, if you
aren’t
holding me here against my
will.”

Betty made a move like she was going to
block the Cutie’s exit again. I grabbed the back of my employee’s
feathered coat and pulled her up short.

She grunted, but settled down, smoothing her
feathers and shaking some hair out of her eyes as if nothing
unusual had happened.

And with that, our one hope at getting real
evidence against Kristi walked out the door.

o0o

At 3 a.m. my phone rang. I ignored it.

It rang again.

This time I was awake enough to realize what
time it was and what a call at this time of the morning might mean.
I glanced at the number on the screen. Local. Not Missouri. Nothing
bad happening at home. Relief washed over me, taking with it some
of the guilt that had immediately popped up when I realized I might
have just blown off my family at some moment of crisis.

The phone in my hand rang again. Without
thinking, I punched answer.

“I’m at the mansion. You need to get here
now!”

I didn’t recognize the number, but I
recognized the voice. Cindy Deere.

I hadn’t dropped her key off last night. Was
that why she was calling? Did she seriously expect me to drive back
into town at three in the morning to give her the key?

I hit re–dial.

No answer.

Three more times with the same outcome.

I glanced at Kiska who had stretched and
yawned and in general gone through his early morning “time to go
out” ritual of movements.

He walked toward the door.

I trusted my malamute. If he thought we
should go.... We’d go.

o0o

I pulled into the alley behind the mansion
and turned to take the drive that would lead me closer to its
door.

A body jumped out of the darkness and fell
across my hood.

My heart smashed against my chest as I
slammed on my brakes.

Cindy Deere pressed her face against my
windshield. “No lights! Back up!” she mouthed.

Kiska, always curious, wandered forward and
stared at her through the glass.

Okay
.

With Cindy still dangling from my hood, I
flipped off my headlights, put my rig in reverse and rolled
backward. When she was satisfied with my position, she slapped on
the glass with her bare palm and hopped down onto the ground.

Against every ounce of common sense that my
parents had tried to instill in me, I got out of my Jeep.

I pulled out the keys for the mansion. She
took them, but in an offhand way that told me their absence was not
why she’d called me here.

“Did you lock up after you left?” she
asked.