Sarah Woods Mystery Series (1-6) Boxed Set (3 page)

Chapter 5

I drove to the pharmacy, filled my prescription, and sat in my car in the parking lot. The view through the windows of my steel cocoon was obscured by the light drizzle and the effect of my breath on the cold glass. I was about to indulge my growling stomach with a granola bar retrieved from the glove compartment when I heard the phone ringing in my purse. I dug it out. It was Gabby.  

“
What the hell? Just listened to your message on voicemail. Are you okay?”

Gabby’s was not a soft, feminine voice, and I moved the phone a distance from my ear before replying. “I’ll be fine. Has Detective Flynn called you yet? He’s in charge of the investigation.”  

“
Do they have any idea who it was?”  

“
Not yet. They’re working on it.”

“
I can’t believe she’s friggin’ dead.” Gabby didn’t mince words, either. An outspoken feminist type, and a lesbian to boot, she nevertheless had a kind spirit and her sense of humor compensated to a great extent for her lack of tact. With curly, blonde hair and an abundance of curves, she was what people referred to as a lipstick lesbian. That she was a little on the chunky side somehow suited her. Few of our massage clients were aware of her sexual preference. I’m not sure why, but I thought it better that way.  

“
Did Beth ever talk to you about an ex-boyfriend or any other guy she was involved with before Jacob?” I asked.  

“
Never mentioned anyone to me. She was so wrapped up in her wedding stuff, she never talked about anything else.”

“
I know what you mean. This whole thing doesn’t make any sense.” I could hear Gabby breathing on the other end. She was either at a loss for words or deep in thought. “Gabby? Are you there?”  

“
You know, I just remembered something that happened a few days ago. Beth and I were working a little late. I think it was Wednesday night, after you went home. Anyway, when she walked out the door, I happened to look out the window and saw her get into a white Subaru Outback. Didn’t get much of a look at the driver, but enough to know it wasn’t her fiancé.”

“
Can you remember anything else about him other than the car he drove?”  

“
No, not really.”  

“
Could have been anyone, right? Are we jumping to conclusions here?”  

“
Well, I would agree, except that the next day, when I asked her who the Subaru belonged to, she looked me straight in the eye and denied knowing anything about it. I thought she was being ridiculous because it was obvious I’d seen her. How else would I have known? But she played dumb and changed the subject. I just shrugged it off because it really wasn’t any of my business anyway.” Gabby paused, but I could sense she had more to say about the business.

“
So what do you think? Was she cheating on Jacob?” I tried to sound doubtful; I certainly never would have suspected such a thing.

“
Don’t know.  Maybe she wanted to have one last fling with an old boyfriend before tying the knot,” Gabby said, without much conviction.  

“
Not so sure about that. She didn’t seem like the kind of girl to go screwing around. And she was,” I added, with a long, tired sigh, “in love with Jacob.”  

“
You know, maybe it’s as simple as some crack head psycho came in planning to rob the place and freaked out and killed Beth.”  

“
I don’t think so. I mean, she was strangled. Strangling is a crime of passion.”  

“
Oh, really. And what makes you the expert on crimes of passion?”  

“
I read a lot of cheesy romance novels.”

“
Maybe Jacob did it when he found out she was cheating.”  

“
She wasn’t cheating, Gabby,” I maintained matter-of-factly. “Besides, Jacob has an alibi.”  

“
Well, fine. Whatever. Anyway, I still like my theory about the crack head.”  

“
Either way, the police don’t seem to have a clue. Guess we’ll have to be patient.”  

Chapter 6

I decided after leaving the parking lot at the pharmacy to stop at my son’s favorite pizza joint and get a large cheese pizza. Not having had a call from Daniel or Brian all day, I figured they’d be wondering about dinner. When I arrived home, Brian took one look at the large pizza box I was holding and his face lit up.  

“
Sweet! I’m starving. Thanks for getting the pizza, Mom!” He took the box from me and set it on the table. The sweet smell of Italian seasonings made my mouth water. I reached into my purse and was taking out the bottle of pills when Daniel walked in.  

“
What are those?” he asked, looking at the pills I’d shaken out into my palm.  

“
Say hello to my little friends,” I said in my best, which wasn’t very good, Al Pacino imitation. I held the bottle up and shook it.  

“
What do you need those for?” he inquired testily.  

“
I saw my shrink this morning and he suggested I take these for a few days, for anxiety,” I replied, avoiding his stare.

“
Cool, can I have one?” Brian stuck out his hand and grinned. Laughing, I slapped his hand away.  

“
Get outta here,” I said, “These are all mine.” But when I looked over at him, Daniel seemed less than amused.

“
Had I known you planned on being medicated and getting take out,” he announced tersely, “I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to plan a nice dinner, or bothered to get a bottle of your favorite pinot noir.”

My jaw dropped. Go figure. “Dan, I’m sorry,” I began. “I guess I was just …”  

Before I could explain further, he put up his hand to stop me-“Whatever, Sarah. Just save it.”-and I knew that was the end of the conversation. He walked out of the kitchen into the living room, shaking his head.

Brian looked at me and shrugged. “Have some pizza, Mom. Let dad be a party pooper,” he said, handing me a slice. Half the cheese slid off before I got it to my mouth. It tasted damn good despite my petulant husband’s best efforts to make me feel guilty.  

When we finished gorging, I took the prescribed number of pills with some water, told Brian I was going to take a hot bath, and left the table. As I made my way down the hall towards the bathroom, I consciously avoided even glancing into the living room; I could hear a game on the TV, and, honestly, I didn’t give a shit what he was thinking.

As the bathtub filled, I sat on the edge rubbing my temples, trying not to let my world spin out of control. The past few days had been a nightmare from which I kept willing myself to wake up. It pissed me off, the thought of being so out of control, but the sensation of the hot water closing around my toes and feet and ankles was indescribably soothing. I exhaled long and luxuriously as I slipped into the tub, closed my eyes, and let my muscles relax. The meds began working their magic, and I felt myself succumbing to a blissful world of silence.  

Forty minutes later I exited my chamber of solace, bathrobe on, and made my way to the bedroom. This time I did glance down the hall. Daniel was still sitting on the couch, alone, wine glass in hand, drinking my favorite bottle of pinot.  

Chapter 7

Sunday, November 7

The next morning I awoke alone in bed. I rubbed my eyes, pushed up onto my elbows, and looked around the room. Sunday mornings usually consisted of sleeping in ‘till ten or eleven, walking around in pajamas, and eating powdered sugar donuts for lunch. Sunday was my day to be lazy, but for some reason I was feeling charged with an amazing energy I hadn’t felt for a long time.  

I began to mentally plan my day. I would go to the gym for a cardio workout, stop at the grocery store on the way back, make my family a proper meal, and then suggest that we all go to a matinee, order a huge bucket of popcorn, and stuff our faces while watching some wonderful, mindless adventure flick. On the way to the kitchen, I noticed Daniel conked out on the couch, an empty bottle of wine next to him on the coffee table. He was lying on his side, face to the back of the couch. My hand trembled slightly as I left a note on the kitchen table outlining my plans for the day. Gym bag slung over my shoulder, I slipped out the door and got into my car.  

After thirty minutes on the treadmill, I went into the locker room and stripped the sweaty clothes from my body. Drying off after my shower, I overheard two women talking in the changing room next to me. When I realized what they were talking about, I sat on the bench and listened.  

“
Liz told me she heard something about a girl who was murdered at that massage parlor downtown. I always had a strange feeling about that place. Seedy, if you ask me. Someone told me they were selling hand-jobs there. Can you believe that? How disgusting.” The woman’s voice was nasal, her tone hushed, confidential.  

“
Really? Then why hasn’t the city shut them down?”  

“
Probably because the chief of police is their best customer!”

“
Oh, cut it out, Joan. You’re such a horrid gossip.”  

The women laughed softly for a moment then I heard a door open and close.

Silence.

I dressed and eased out of the stall, looking around me apprehensively. A raw fury was building in my gut as I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. If I had any guts, I would have confronted those women. I despised people like them. I’d worked hard over the years to establish a reputation as a respectable massage therapist in this community, spent countless hours trying to educate people about the importance of therapeutic touch, only to have it impugned by a couple of ignorant bitches clueless as to the long-term damage that could be occasioned by idle gossip such as theirs.  

As I walked out to my car, I noticed a voice message on my cell. I pressed the listen key and was treated to Daniel’s voice informing me he was planning to stay in bed all day because of an upset stomach, that Brian had plans with friends, and so brunch and a movie would have to wait for another day. I dropped my bag in the car and walked across the street to a café that prominently displayed a sign proclaiming Breakfast Served All Day. Figuring I’d burned enough calories at the gym, I walked inside and took a seat at the counter. An older woman in a coffee spattered, pink apron immediately set a mug in front of me and began pouring a dark, steamy liquid into it.

“
Cream ‘n sugar?” she asked in a raspy voice.  

“
No, thanks. Can I order some pancakes, please?” I asked, not wasting any time.  

The waitress turned and walked away, her shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor.  

I cupped my hands around the mug and began to sip the coffee. The smell of frying bacon overwhelmed me as I glanced around the diner. Only one other person sat in a booth at the far end of the room. After a few minutes, the silence was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Looking behind me, I blinked a few times at the form that came through the door. Tall and dark-blonde, wearing a green fleece jacket and khaki cargo pants, the man was the spitting image of the famous actor Matthew McConaughey in his younger years. Realizing I had gazed overlong at this apparition, I turned back around to face the counter just as my breakfast arrived. I heard footsteps behind me, then shifted slightly on the seat as the man took the stool next to mine. Out of the corner of my eye I watched him survey the board of lunch specials hanging directly in front of us.

“
Is the coffee good here?” he asked, continuing to look at the lunch board. I glanced around the room. The waitress having already started back towards the kitchen, I had to assume he was talking to me.  

“
It’s fine,” I said, swallowing and wiping my mouth with a napkin.  

“
Do you come here often, Sarah?” he asked. When I turned my head, rather more quickly than I intended, to look at him, he gave me a sideward glance.

“
Do I know you?” I asked, not recognizing him.  

“
Not really,” he said, looking away.  

“
Then how do you know me?”

“
My sister, Beth, worked for you.”  

My jaw dropped and my fork went clattering to the floor.

“
I’m sorry. Beth never mentioned a brother.”

“
Well, she’d been a little pre-occupied lately.” He turned and extended his hand. I took it, shook it weakly.  

“
I’m Max Stevens.”  

“
Sarah ... well, I guess you know my name. So how did you know I was here?” I realized, as it slowed, that my heart had been racing. Looking into his face, I noticed a small scar on one side of his chin.  

“
My little sister is dead. I know the police haven’t come up with anything. But I think I know who killed her,” he said, resting an elbow on the counter.

The waitress returned and asked what he would like. Just coffee. He paused as she filled his mug. When she left, he sipped his coffee and resumed talking.  

“
I can’t prove it, but I think her fiancé had something to do with it.”  

“
But Jacob has an alibi. The police confirmed it.”  

He looked down into his coffee, seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I have a phone message from Beth on my cell from the night she was killed.” He paused and glanced around the diner. “She called me from your office, said she was about to leave
work and was going to stop by to pick up a book she wanted to borrow. A travel book on Mexico, where she wanted to go on her honeymoon.” His voice was almost a whisper now. “But as she was talking, she was interrupted by someone. It seemed like it was someone she knew. Then there was a loud crack, as if the phone had struck a hard surface. Whoever knocked the phone out of her hand has to be her killer.”

“
Why do you think it might be Jacob?” I asked, leaning in closer to him.  

“
I never had a good feeling about him. The few times I met him, he seemed controlling. He had an edge to him. Beth couldn’t see it; she was too close. I once tried telling her how I felt about him. That was a mistake.” He rubbed his forehead.  

“
I don’t know. I met him a few times and he seemed nice to me. What do you think happened?”  

“Maybe he thought she was screwing around
.
People kill out of jealousy all the time,” he said. I noticed his foot tapping nervously on the footrest of the stool. “I could be wrong about him, but my gut tells me otherwise.”

I shrugged and looked around. I desperately needed more coffee and the damned waitress was probably taking a cigarette break. I stared down at the half eaten pancakes on the plate in front of me.

“
When the detective called,” Max continued over the instrumental version of a Barry Manilow song playing in the background, “he mentioned that you were there when she died. Didn’t you see anything?”

“
No. Whoever it was hit me from behind as I leaned over your sister,” I said, omitting details.  

“
The detective said you were lucky,” he said, “You took a nasty hit on the head?” 

I nodded and tried to smile. “I’m fine. By the way, Max, do you drive a white Subaru Outback?”

“
No, why do you ask?”  

“
Gabby, the massage therapist I work with, said she saw Beth talking to someone in a Subaru, and that she acted funny about it the next day when Gabby asked who it was.”

He perked up. “Really. Did she get a license plate number?”

“Sorry, she didn’t.” 

“
The detective said they couldn’t find Beth’s cell phone,” Max said, letting the matter of the Subaru drop. “Do you suppose the killer took it with him?”  

“
Must have. Where else would it be?” I planted an elbow on the counter and rested my chin on my fist.  

“
Interesting,” he said, slowly getting up. He reached into his pocket and tossed a five-dollar bill on the counter. “By the way Sarah, I was able to convince the police to hold off releasing Beth’s name to the press for a week or so. I’d like the details of her death not to become public until we have a handle on the situation. We’re having a private service for her Tuesday at 10 a.m. at Coombs Funeral Home. Family members and close friends. Of course, I hope you’ll be there.”  

I turned as he started to leave and asked, “What are you going to do about Jacob?”  

He paused, looked down at the floor, and said, “Nothing ... yet.”  

Max’s handsome features seemed strained.  

“
I’ll see you Tuesday, then,” I said softly.  

“
Bye, Sarah.” He turned and walked out the door.