Schooled in Deceit: A Lacamas Village Cozy Mystery, Book 1, page 7
Perla leaned toward me, I figured to offer words of sympathy.
“You didn’t need to blacken your face after all,” she said before turning back toward the house.
I brushed at my face, but the dirt was stuck to the black makeup. Perfect.
We tiptoed around the edge of the yard, staying close to the wooden fence unless a bush got in the way. I made the mistake of trying to bypass a rose bush on the fence side and was rewarded with multiple scratches down my arms, right through the sleeves. A light shone from the back of the house, so we headed toward the porch, sidling up next to an open window.
“That was a delicious dinner, Lindell. Thank you for cooking.” Yolanda’s voice came through the window closer than I had expected. I jumped, bumping into Perla, who turned toward me with a wide-eyed glare.
“Sorry,” I mouthed toward her. She rolled her eyes and tilted her head to listen to the sounds of Yolanda in the kitchen just above us.
We heard steps as another person entered the kitchen, coming closer to the window. Lindell cleared his throat.
“How about if I finish cleaning up the grill and then we take our evening upstairs?” Lindell growled.
Perla’s scrunched face mirrored my own.
A pan banged on the counter.
“I don’t think so,” Yolanda said, the coldness in her voice stretching out the window. “Don’t get cocky just because I appreciated the dinner.”
“C’mon, baby.”
“Lindell, no!” Yolanda said. “I know what you’ve been up to. You need to change your ways before I change my tune.”
Silence settled in the kitchen for several moments. None of us – the two in the kitchen and the two below on the patio – seemed to take a breath.
Lindell finally broke the silence. “I’ll go clean up then,” he muttered.
Steps shuffled across the kitchen and moved toward the back porch. I turned and saw the grill sitting right in front of us.
“Go, go, go,” I hissed, pushing Perla away from the grill. She tripped over a planter on the porch, the scraping sound magnified in the silence. The door flung open.
“What was that?” Lindell’s voice boomed into the backyard.
Perla and I just made it around the corner of the house. Her hands covered her mouth. My hand was to my chest. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure Lindell could hear it.
“What was what?” Yolanda’s voice came from the kitchen, but her footsteps moved toward the porch.
“I heard a noise on the porch,” Lindell said. His voice came closer, like he was stepping toward us.
“Probably just that cat from next door. He’s been in the yard again,” Yolanda said. The back door opened, and she went back inside.
There was silence in the yard for several moments. I closed my eyes, sure that Lindell Stevenson was coming around that corner any moment, and I would finally be facing a police ride downtown.
Then his footsteps went the other way followed by the scraping sounds of the grill opening and closing. After what seemed like an exceptionally long time to fuss with a grill, Lindell went back inside and closed the door.
We waited until the back porch light went out followed by the kitchen light before we both breathed a sigh of relief. Perla gestured toward the gate, and I nodded.
We were nearly to the gate when the kitchen light flicked on followed by the back porch light. At first, we froze. Then the door opened, and we heard Lindell’s voice.
“I’m just going to check,” he called. “It’s bothering me.”
“Go!” I hissed again. All sneaking left behind, we pumped our legs toward the gate, grateful we had left it unlocked on the way in.
As we pushed through the gate, Lindell’s voice sounded behind us.
“Hey! What are you doing in my yard?”
Grateful Lindell had a large yard, we ran as hard as our middle-aged legs could go out the gate and down the small alleyway.
We curved around the edge of the Wiggins’ yard, then slipped back into Audra’s back yard before Lindell could see where we were going. It didn’t sound like he ran very far, though. I think he might have stopped at the back of his gate.
Perla flung open the back door and hustled us both into the house.
“Go change and wipe your face,” she ordered. “Put on comfy clothes.”
I ran for the stairs with Perla on my heels. “Why am I doing this?” I asked as I scrubbed my face at the bathroom sink.
Perla rummaged through Audra’s closet and pulled out a pair of bright red sweats and a t-shirt. She stripped off her black clothes and put on Audra’s, then turned to me.
“Hurry!”
Sirens from the distance suddenly got closer. I pulled off my own black clothes and jumped into some leggings and a sweatshirt.
“Go make popcorn while I pick out a movie,” Perla ordered. I saw the wisdom of her plan as red lights appeared in the circle outside the house.
I finished popping the popcorn in the microwave and dumped it into bowls. I leaped to the other end of the L-shaped couch from Perla.
Bang, bang, bang.
Someone was at the front door.
Chapter 16
Perla and I both jumped. We stared at each other, then she gestured for me to get the door.
I glanced at the TV to see which movie Perla had picked out, then wandered to the entryway.
“Who is it?” I called, my face against the door.
“Detective Crandall,” came the voice on the other side.
I opened the door slightly to peek out, then opened it all the way, pasting a puzzled expression on my face as I looked past him to the police cars at the Stevensons’ place.
“Detective, what’s going on?”
The detective studied me carefully.
“Ms. Michaels, have you been home all evening?”
I nodded. “What’s this about?”
“Misty, what’s going on? You’re missing the movie.” Perla came from the living room, a bowl of popcorn in her hand. “Hello, Jonas. What’s going on out there?”
She peered around the detective, forcing him to step back on the porch, so she could see. “Did something happen to Lindell or Yolanda?”
Crandall looked from Perla to me and back again. “They’re both fine. There was an attempted break-in. Have you been here all night? Did you hear or see anything unusual?”
“We made dinner and now we’re watching a movie,” I lied, hoping my voice wouldn’t squeak. I tried to channel all the times I told parents, “of course, your child is no trouble at all.” “We weren’t really paying attention to what was going on outside.”
“Girls’ night,” Perla put in. She shifted the popcorn bowl to her other hip and turned to me. “I hope Yolanda and Lindell are okay. Maybe we should go check on them.”
“Maybe you should just stay here out of trouble,” Crandall said. “We’ll let you know if we have any news.”
“Are you talking to all of the neighbors?” I asked, acutely aware of the way he was watching us.
He shrugged. “I might. However, Mr. Stevenson thought he saw the trespassers going in this direction, so I wanted to check with you first to make sure you were safe.”
He peered closer at the side of my face.
“Thank you,” I said, using my hand to push my hair around on that side of my face.
“And also to make sure you two weren’t out playing detective in the Stevensons’ backyard.”
Perla stiffened beside me. “Why would you think we would do that?” I asked.
The detective gave Perla a pointed look. My eyes followed his to Perla’s face.
She looked down at the popcorn bowl. “I might have gotten a tad bit involved in other cases,” she mumbled.
The detective shook his head, then reached over and touched my face. I jerked away from him.
“Detective Crandall!”
He rubbed the black substance he wiped off my face between his thumb and forefinger, then looked at me, an eyebrow upraised. “You have dirt or something on your face,” he commented, clearly waiting for a response.
“Some mascara must have gone sideways when I washed my face.” I met his eyes, feigning a confidence I didn’t feel.
He looked at his fingers again, then pulled a bandana from his pants pocket and wiped them off. “That must be it,” he said as he turned away. “Keep the doors locked.”
Perla and I closed the front door and walked silently back to the living room. We climbed into our places on the couch and burst out laughing.
“Shh,” I whispered. “He’s sneaky. He might be waiting outside listening to us.”
We decided to keep the pretense going until the police cars had left the circle, so we turned on the movie and settled back into the couch.
After several minutes, I realized that although my eyes faced the screen, my mind was elsewhere. I turned to Perla. “We learned nothing new tonight,” I said, then shoveled popcorn into my mouth.
“Not true,” Perla said. “We learned that the Stevensons are having trouble in their marriage, and that Lindell Stevenson cleans his own grill.”
I made a face. “That doesn’t tell us much about whether Lindell killed Samuel Wiggins.” I lifted my chin and stretched my neck before settling back. “It does raise the question about why Yolanda lied about his alibi.”
Perla paused, popcorn halfway to her mouth. “Why do you think she lied?” she asked.
I studied the piece of popcorn in my hand. “He’s into something he shouldn’t be into and she knows what it is. I have a feeling Yolanda knows exactly what’s going on. Now, I have a question. What was with all that dirt in their yard?”
Perla stuck the popcorn in her mouth. “Yolanda is always doing stuff back there. Lindell mostly stays on the porch, so she putters back there.”
“So you don’t think they buried a body there?”
Perla burst out laughing. “Whose body? Is someone missing I don’t know about?”
“Well, maybe, they were going to bury Samuel there, but in the meantime, I found his body.”
Perla’s face crinkled in horror.
“It was just an idea.” I added. “I don’t really think they teamed up to do it.”
We sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, Perla shook her head.
“No, if they had teamed up, they would have alibied each other, and they really didn’t. Nope, can’t be them.”
With that, she turned back toward the TV. I didn’t miss the worried glance she threw my way.
Just then my phone buzzed several times in a row. I glanced down at my phone, settling it on my knees so I could see. Rodney had sent several pictures of us in what some might call “happier times” – a trip to the Grand Canyon, a night out celebrating my birthday, and others.
Was that his way of telling me he missed me? Without realizing it at first, I gently stroked the pictures.
“You okay?” Perla asked from the other end of the couch, lifting her chin to try to see my screen. Her face was filled with concern. “Whatcha got there?”
I gave her a tight smile and waved the phone. “Rodney sent some pictures of us.”
I started to set aside the blanket covering my legs to show her, then stopped myself. If I showed those pictures to Perla and started talking about them, I’d get sentimental about Rodney and our past together. I turned off my phone and set it on the coffee table. Then I took off my wedding ring and set it on the coffee table.
“Nothing important.”
Chapter 17
The next morning, I opened the back of the Subaru in the grocery store parking lot and stared in dismay. I forgot to return the shopping bags to the wayback of the car when I had last used them. I wasn’t always great about recycling, so bringing my own shopping bags felt like the least I could do.
I sighed and reminded myself to throw a couple of Audra’s bags in the car when I got home.
As I tucked my phone into my purse, I pushed aside thoughts of Rodney and his photos. How dare he try to manipulate me that way?
My thoughts ping-ponged between my grocery list and Rodney as I pulled out a shopping cart and turned left into the store, which happened to be the bakery section.
Why did they always put the bakery section at the front of the store? I mean, I knew why they did it. But why did they have to do it? It was hard to bypass the delicacies. I stopped beside a shelf of chocolate muffins. They were vegan, so I put them into the cart with a grin, feeling like I was getting away with something.
I pressed on through the store, just winding my way up and down the aisles. I loved going into grocery stores I hadn’t been in before. Even though a lot was the same, there was always something new and different. Before long, my cart was filled with healthy items – broccoli, cauliflower, asparagus – and other questionable items, like the muffins and gluten-free tortilla chips that barely – and arguably – stayed this side of the junk food category.
As I neared the checkout, I noticed Elijah Douglas from the homeowners association across the bins from me. He smiled and waved, then turned back to his cart. I did the same and got in line. The cashier bagged my items as I shoved my debit card into the machine.
Declined.
The cashier looked at me apologetically.
“What? That’s not possible,” I said, pulling out the card and trying again.
Declined.
I held up a hand. “Just a minute. Let me try another one.”
I shoved a credit card into the slot.
Declined.
My mouth fell open. I held up both hands as I looked at the cashier and all the items already packed in bags. My mouth opened and closed a few times.
“Something has happened,” I told the cashier earnestly. “Can I just set these aside and go figure it out?”
The cashier nodded, but a voice interrupted. “Is there a problem, Misty?”
I turned to see Elijah standing on the other side of the line. “I don’t know what’s happened. I have plenty of money in my account, but my cards have been declined.”
I gasped. “Rodney. My husband. He must have closed my accounts.”
Elijah waved away my worries, stepping forward with a card in his hand. “I can take care of this.”
“Elijah, I can’t let you do this.”
“I insist,” he said, sliding his card into the slot.
“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can,” I told him. I had cash at Audra’s. I’d be able to repay him that afternoon.
The cashier smiled and handed the receipt to Elijah, who didn’t even glance at it as he handed it to me.
“Thank you, Elijah.” I was so embarrassed I could hardly choke out the words.
He waved off my thanks. “I’ll see you back in the neighborhood.”
He turned to step back out of the line to his cart.
I picked up the bags and placed them back in my cart, then headed for the exit, my cheeks burning, both from embarrassment and anger.
It had to be Rodney. I fumed as I stomped to the car. As I threw the bags into the wayback of the car, one of them broke, spewing groceries all over the pavement. My shoulders drooped and my eyes welled with tears as I stopped and looked at the sky. What did the universe have against me today?
Covering my face with my hands, I slumped against the side of the car. I just needed a minute.
“Misty, are you all right?”
Elijah stood by my car with his cart. I gestured toward the spilled groceries. “It’s been a morning.”
Elijah strode off, probably thinking about Audra’s idiot sister. I scrambled to pick up the groceries, then got on my hands and knees, my rear in the air, to snag a couple of cans that rolled underneath the car.
“Here, use these,” a voice offered.
I froze. All I could think of was my rear end sticking out from under the car. I backed out and forced a smile to my face.
With a grin, Elijah handed me two cloth shopping bags. “I always carry extras, particularly now that they charge for bags,” he said.
“Thank you. You’ve been very kind.” I accepted the bags and started shoving groceries into them. “I’ll return these as soon as I can.”
He shrugged. “Just drop them by the boat shack when you get a chance. I’m there almost every day.”
As soon as I finished rounding up the runaway groceries and put away the cart, I sat in the driver’s seat and pulled out my phone, snapping the numbers into it.
“Misty?” Rodney’s voice had that sound of fake surprise. “You finally called.”
“What did you do to my bank cards?” I could hardly spit out the words, I was that angry.
“You wouldn’t contact me, so I had to find a way that you would, and, look, you did.”
He sounded pleased with himself.
“Put my money back, Rodney, before I call my lawyer and have them file charges instead of just divorce papers.”
“Now Misty, wait. There’s no need for that. I just wanted to talk to you.” Rodney’s voice was pleading.
I settled back into the driver’s seat, my left arm crossed over my body and my right hand holding the phone. “Okay, so talk,” I said. “Make it fast. The ice cream’s melting.”
“Is that a metaphor?”
“No! For goodness’ sake, what do you want?”
“I want you to come home,” he said quietly. “That’s all. Come home so we can talk about this.”
I gulped back the tears that welled up. He caught me by surprise when he got sincere on me like that.
I shook my head but realized he couldn’t see me. “What’s there to talk about? Rodney, I don’t think I can trust you ever again.”
He was silent for a moment. “I know I hurt you. It’s not something I wanted to happen. I don’t know why I did it.”
“Were there more?” I didn’t want to ask, but I had to know.
“More what?”
“Rodney, don’t be dense. More women!” My voice held more than a tinge of frustration.
He hesitated a moment too long before denying it. “Of course not, Misty.”
He was lying. In that moment, I knew he was lying. I sat up straight in the driver’s seat.
