When Sleuthing Spells Trouble, page 13
“If you were so concerned about upsetting her, you could have left when you saw us come in,” I said.
Jennifer shrugged. “I guess I could have, but I didn’t think that was necessary.” She glanced at her watch. “Sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got to get going.”
I wasn’t about to let her get away so easily. “Just a sec.” I gestured toward her tote bag, where the pale pink scarf peeped out. “Nice scarf. Is it new?”
She shot me a puzzled look. “Yeah, I just bought it yesterday. So?”
“It’s very pretty. I just wonder why you’ve got it stuck in your tote and not wearing it.”
She stared at me. “Who are you,” she growled, “the Fashion Police? What is it of your business what I wear?”
I got right up in her face. “I’ll tell you why it’s my business. Mariah Blackthorne had a dream earlier about someone sneaking into her bedroom and trying to strangle her. When I investigated I found a pink thread tangled up in the comforter, the same color as that scarf.”
Jennifer’s eyes popped. “You’re serious? Someone broke into her house? That is interesting,” she murmured. A second later her head jerked up. “You think it was me, don’t you? Well, you’re wrong. Why on earth would I do that?” she screeched, waving her arms back and forth.
I held up my hand and said in a soothing tone, “Calm down, Jenn. Of course I don’t think you were trying to kill her. Mariah was having a dream. But I think it’s possible that you might have broken into her house looking for some sort of evidence, and you snagged the scarf on something.”
Jenn’s arms dropped to her side and she tilted her head. “Ah, so now I’m a housebreaker in addition to being a troublemaker? Sorry, Nora, you’re way off on that.” She reached into the tote and whipped out the scarf, dangled it under my nose. “See for yourself. No loose threads. If someone left a trail of pink behind, it wasn’t me.”
The scarf was indeed intact. I watched as Jennifer stuffed it back into her tote bag and decided to try another tack. “Well, then, maybe you can tell me why you were all cozy with Jerry Cutter?”
Her head snapped up. “Who?”
“Don’t play dumb. I’m sure you know who I mean. I saw the two of you together at the Poker Face.”
Jennifer thrust her jaw forward. “You used to be an investigative reporter, Nora. You know darn well why I was with him. I was interrogating a witness.”
“Yeah, well, I’d be careful if I were you, Jennifer. From what I hear, Jerry’s more of a suspect than a witness.”
Her brow wrinkled and her lips pressed flat. “From what you hear, eh?” she said. “And just what are you doing, hanging out with her? I thought you were too busy with your business to do any investigating? Or was that just for my benefit?”
“No, not entirely,” I said. “I am busy, but Mariah happens to be a friend of a good friend of mine who asked me to look out for her.”
She gave me a long, searching look. “So you are investigating,” she said at last.
“Let’s just say I’m making a few discreet inquiries.”
“On behalf of this friend of hers. Does this friend have a name?”
“I’d rather not say.”
Both her brows went up. “Right. And I’m sure in the course of making these ‘discreet inquiries’ you’re planning a nice feature for that online magazine. Admit it, Nora. You want to solve the mystery yourself and you don’t want to share the glory.”
“Trust me, I’m not in competition with you, Jennifer. If you can prove Mariah didn’t murder her husband, then I’m all for it. I just don’t want to see you put yourself in danger doing it.”
“Yeah, well, thanks for the concern, but it’s totally unwarranted. Jerry Cutter makes a good suspect on paper, that I’ll admit, but he’s not Blackthorne’s killer.”
The conviction in her tone surprised me, so much so that for a moment I couldn’t think what to say. Finally I got out, “Just what makes you so sure of that?”
She shrugged. “Just my gut feeling, after talking to him. He told me—oh, no!” She stopped speaking and waggled her fingers in the air. “You’re not going to trick me that easily, Nora Charles.”
“Jennifer, I’m not trying to trick you. I’m just telling you to exercise a bit of caution. It’s been my experience that sometimes those gut feelings don’t work out.”
“Yeah, well, mine have always paid off. Anyway, it’s all moot, or it will be soon enough.” She leaned into me and said in a low tone, “This much I will tell you, so you can eat your heart out. I’m this close to uncovering the real killer.” She held up her hand, both middle fingers touching. “And getting closer by the second.”
I felt a chill race up my spine at her words. “What do you mean by that?”
Her lips curved in a cat ate the canary smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Sorry, Nora. You had your chance. Now you can just read about it in the paper along with everyone else.”
With that, she plopped her tote bag on her shoulder, turned on her heel, and walked swiftly away. I debated going after her but figured it wouldn’t do any good. Knowing Jennifer, her boast about being close to exposing the killer was nothing more than false bravado. At least I hoped that were the case.
I retraced my steps back to Skin and Scents. Mariah sat in a chair near the register, sipping a cup of water, while Elle hovered solicitously about her. Gillian was behind the register, looking decidedly ill at ease, but her thin features arranged themselves into a smile when she caught sight of me. She hurried out from behind the counter and down the main aisle toward me.
“Nora, thank goodness,” she breathed. She glanced over her shoulder toward the counter and then whispered, “Mrs. Blackthorne seems to be much better now, but . . .” She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug.
I knew what she was thinking and I reached out to pat her arm. “I know. We’ll be leaving now.” I walked over to where Mariah sat, Elle hovering over her like a guard dog. She glanced up, saw me, and for an instant something flashed across her face—annoyance? I ignored her and bent to take Mariah’s hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better. I do feel foolish, though,” Mariah said. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”
“Nonsense,” Elle said briskly. “From what you’ve told me about that woman, I thought you showed considerable restraint.” Her gaze softened somewhat as she turned to me. “You went after her, didn’t you. What did she have to say for herself?”
“Not too much, actually,” I hedged. “She denied spying on Mariah, and then she made an excuse and took off.”
Elle tossed her head. “She belongs behind bars, if you ask me. The woman’s a nuisance. Mariah, can’t you charge her with harassment or something?”
“She hasn’t really done anything that’s against the law,” I said. “It would be very difficult to make any charges stick.”
Elle’s lips puckered. “Yeah, freedom of the press, right? Morrie, my husband, always says laws are in place to protect the criminals, not the innocent. I’m starting to agree with him.” She took Mariah’s arm, helped her out of the chair. “Why don’t we stop by the tea shop and get our dinners to go. We can eat them back at your house, and then I think you should get into some pj’s and we’ll watch an old movie, what do you say?”
“That sounds nice.” Mariah looked hopefully at me. “Would you like to stay for dinner, Nora?”
“Thanks, but I have some prep work that I need to do for tomorrow’s lunch menu back at Hot Bread,” I said. “I’ll ride back with you and get my car, though.”
“Okay.” Mariah looked disappointed. “Some other time.”
“Yes,” Elle purred. “Some other time. Definitely.”
She took Mariah by the arm and the two of them started for the door. After a moment I followed, thinking that I wasn’t going to hold my breath for that invitation.
• • •
Nick greeted me when I walked into the shop. I bent down to give him a scratch on the white streak behind his ear. “Miss me?” I asked the cat.
“Meower,” Nick said as he rubbed his portly body against my ankles.
I sighed. “Well, it certainly has been an eventful afternoon.” I tossed my bag on the counter and sank into one of the high-backed stools. “My interview with Paul Lassiter went well, and he seemed sincere, but I’m not ready to take him off the list of suspects just yet. He seems to have Mariah’s best interests at heart, but that could be a cover. He did point a finger at Jerry Cutter, though. And after talking to Jennifer Hinkle, I’m convinced he definitely bears further investigation. She might think he’s innocent, but I’m not all that sure.”
Nick blinked twice, laid his head on his paws.
“Mariah had a dream that someone tried to kill her, but no one was in the house when I had a look around. I did find a pink thread in her bedroom, though, that an intruder could have dropped.” I frowned as I realized that I’d never checked out Elle’s pink and white sweater. Elle had a key, she could easily have let herself in. As fast as I thought of that, though, I rejected the theory. I didn’t trust Elle, but she was staying with Mariah. She had a pretty fair run of the place. There would be no reason for her to sneak into the house.
Or was there?
“I’m not too sure about Elle either,” I said. “She claims to have Mariah’s best interests at heart, and Mariah trusts her, but there’s just something about her that rubs me the wrong way. Of course, it could just be her snooty attitude, but somehow I think there’s more to it than that.” Suddenly I snapped my fingers. “Oh, darn. I forgot to ask Mariah if she knew Elle’s maiden name. Maybe Hank can find it out for me.”
I pulled out my phone and checked my texts. Nothing from Hank. Well, he’d said he was going to be pretty much incommunicado. I knew that he’d get back to me when he could. I sent another text asking if he knew Elle’s maiden name and set the phone back on the counter. I looked at Nick. “So, what do you think, Nick? Lobster salad for you for dinner?”
The cat’s head jerked up. He licked his lips. “Yowzer.”
I got up, went over to the refrigerator to get the bowl of lobster salad. As I carried it back to the counter, my phone rang. I picked it up, glanced at the screen and frowned.
Unknown Caller.
I hesitated, tempted to let it go to voicemail, but Nick let out a sharp meow. I frowned. Maybe it was Hank. Maybe something had happened to his other phone and he was calling me from a burner phone with some news. I hit the answer icon. “Nora Charles.”
The voice that floated back to me sounded as if it were speaking through one of those mechanical devices specifically designed to disguise one’s voice. “Nora Charles,” it rasped. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop looking into Christian Blackthorne’s murder. No good will come of it. Mariah Blackthorne is guilty as sin.”
Then there was silence.
Chapter Fourteen
“Someone apparently thinks you’re getting close to something.”
I topped off Ollie’s second cup of coffee and set the pot back on the stove. It was a little after two the following day, and we had Hot Bread all to ourselves. Since I’d skipped lunch I prepared grilled cheese sandwiches for both of us, and as we ate I recounted the events of yesterday, topping it off with the mysterious phone call.
“Apparently,” I said dryly. “I just wish I knew what it was I was getting close to, exactly. Because so far I’ve come up with nothing concrete that proves Mariah’s innocence, just a group of people who all might have had good reason to want Blackthorne dead.”
Ollie tapped his spoon against the rim of his mug. “Do you think maybe your mystery caller could have been that reporter?”
“Jennifer?” I rubbed absently at my brow. “Her feathers did seem a bit ruffled when I admitted to making inquiries,” I said. “From what I remember of her, though, making anonymous threats wasn’t exactly her style.”
“Her style could have changed, particularly if she feels threatened by you.” He took a bite of his sandwich, dabbed at his lips with his napkin. “I just think you should consider the possibility. In her eyes you’re a foe, not a friend. You didn’t want to work with her, so now you’re on the opposite side, even though you’re both after the same thing.”
I couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Sounds a bit like an oxymoron, doesn’t it? Opposite yet similar.”
“Are you going to tell Detective Anderson about the call?”
“Dale?” I cut Ollie an eye roll. “Oh, gosh, no. I don’t want to get her involved unless it’s absolutely necessary. After all, I wasn’t threatened—not outright, anyway. I was just advised to halt looking into Mariah’s case.” I tapped my finger on the counter. “That’s another thing that makes me think the caller wasn’t Jennifer. The person said that Mariah was guilty as sin. Jennifer definitely feels the opposite way.”
“She could just have said that to throw you off the track.”
“I think you’re giving her too much credit.”
“Ow-rrrr!”
Nick jumped onto the far end of the counter, cocked his head. “Ow-rrr,” he said again.
I chuckled. “Nick apparently thinks so too.”
Ollie held up both hands. “Far be it from me to disagree with little Nick. He’s been right far too often.”
Nick looked at Ollie, then at me, and then let out a low, rumbling purr.
I turned back to Ollie. “I do admit that I am a bit concerned for Jennifer, though. I think her desire to solve this and make a name for herself is making her careless.”
“In what way?”
I told Ollie about seeing the girl with Jerry Cutter, and the snatches of conversation I’d overheard. “She doesn’t think that Jerry could be guilty,” I said, “but on paper he’s one of my top three suspects. Lassiter wasn’t too fond of him, and even Samms said that Jerry used to hang around with some pretty shady characters.”
“The company one keeps is always telling,” remarked Ollie. “I wonder why Jennifer discounted him so quickly as a suspect?”
“Perhaps he convinced her that it was all a big misunderstanding. That’s what his mother said. Jerry was just fingering the statues while he was waiting for her, and Blackthorne jumped to a conclusion, probably based upon Jerry’s past.”
“It’s possible.” Ollie leaned back a bit on the stool. “How are the other suspects on your board shaping up?”
“Good question. Maybe it’s time for a review.” I got up, got the paper from the drawer where I’d stashed it, and laid it on the counter in front of Ollie. Before we could look at it, though, the bell above the door jangled and Louis came in. He walked right up to me and embraced me in a giant bear hug.
“Wow,” I said when he released me. “What was that for?”
He grinned. “I hear through the grapevine that you’re working to prove Mariah Blackthorne’s innocence. I hope this means you plan to write everything up for Noir! Circulation will triple with that article.”
I sighed. “Yes, it’s true and yes, I plan to write it up—regardless of the outcome.”
Louis looked shocked. “You mean you think she’s guilty?”
“I’m not making any assumptions one way or the other yet. But if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say there are a lot more people who had better motives to off Christian Blackthorne than his wife.”
“We were just about to go over them,” said Ollie. He motioned to the stool beside him. “Want to join us?”
“I will indeed,” said Louis. “And I’ll have a grilled ham and Swiss on rye too.”
While I prepared Louis’s sandwich, he and Ollie went over the suspects on my murder board. Louis, of course, was familiar with all of them. I set the sandwich in front of him, refilled everyone’s coffee cups, and then plunked myself down on the stool on the other side of Ollie. I put the murder board in the middle of the counter and tapped at one square with my nail. “I definitely do not have a good feeling about Elle Gardner,” I said. “She admitted to being Blackthorne’s patient. Said that was how she and Mariah met.” I paused. “Lassiter mentioned that Blackthorne was having trouble with a woman wanting a more permanent relationship from him. He thought she might have been a patient.”
Louis tapped at the square labeled Another Mistress? “So you think this person could have been Elle?”
“It’s possible. Why, you don’t?”
Ollie frowned. “From what I hear, Elle Gardner’s marriage might not be one made in heaven, but it keeps her in fancy cars and jewels. I doubt she’d endanger it.”
“She might if she were really in love with Blackthorne,” I persisted. “After all, he wasn’t exactly a pauper. He could have supported her in the lifestyle she loved.”
“True, but his financial status couldn’t hold a candle to Morris Gardner’s.” Louis paused. “Besides, according to the conversation Mariah herself overheard, that woman was pregnant, true? And Elle Gardner has no children.”
“That we know of,” I said. “She could have had an abortion, or had the child and put it up for adoption. She has enough money so that it wouldn’t take much for her to cover her tracks.”
Louis took another bite of his sandwich. “I’ve got to agree with Ollie on this one. I don’t know for certain, but I’ll bet that Gardner had an ironclad prenup drawn up before he married Elle. He also has an excellent team of investigators on his payroll. If he had the slightest suspicion that she cheated on him, they’d waste no time getting the goods on Elle. Then Gardner would divorce her so fast her head would spin, and he’d make certain that she never got a cent of his money. She’s too fond of the good life, so I doubt she’d risk it.”
“Maybe,” I said. I picked up a pen. “Maybe I should add another square and put Morris Gardner’s name in it. For all we know, perhaps he found out about his wife’s affair and eliminated the competition.”
