01 - Playing with Poison (22 page)

He shoved the microphone at me, but I am proud to say I remained stalwart and silent. I could have asked him how he got the idea that Candy is my best friend, since I don’t even believe in the notion. All my friends are a blessing, and I would never label one as more important than another. And I could have informed him Candy Poppe was not behind bars, as he was so gleefully reporting, but I am not an idiot. And I certainly did have an opinion about Rye taking off at such a critical juncture, but I wasn’t about to share that either.

Jimmy sneered as only Jimmy can sneer and tapped my nose with the microphone. “Don’t you have anything to say, Jessie? Now’s your big chance.”

Well, if he insisted.

I ever so delicately took the microphone being offered. “Where’s Dee Dee Larkin?” I asked.

Jimmy stumbled backwards and landed on the couch.

“How’s that partnership coming along, Jimmy?” I stepped closer and gently bopped his nose with the microphone. “Has Dee Dee invited you to join her national team yet?” I turned to the camera. “After all,” I said, “the public has a right to know.”

Jimmy bounded to his feet and made a cutting motion across his neck until the cameraman finally shut off his stupid equipment. They packed up, and the microphone was veritably torn from my hands as they hastened to the stairwell.

I reminded myself of my non-violent nature and resisted the urge to give Jimmy’s backside a good, solid kick to expedite the departure.

***

I waited until I heard the front door close before plopping down on my couch. Resisting the urge to take a good, solid nap, I read Densmore’s note, which was far more polite than Jimmy had implied. The lieutenant apologized for keeping the couch so long and informed me that Captain Rye had gotten it cleaned. Bless his heart, Densmore even offered to come over and help me move it into my condo if I needed assistance.

I hoped that wouldn’t be necessary and went downstairs to see if Bryce were home. He answered the door quickly, but the smile on his face disappeared when he saw me.

“Oh, hi, Jessie.”

“Are you expecting someone else?”

He looked past me into the hallway. “I guess I was hoping to talk to Candy before I left for work.”

“Shhhh!!” I hissed and pushed him back into his apartment.

“Jimmy Beak’s on the prowl again,” I said as I shut the door. “He doesn’t know she’s over there. If I have anything to say about it, no one will find out she’s over there.”

I frowned. “How the heck did you know she’s over there?”

“I heard her in the hallway this morning.” Bryce seemed startled, and I apologized for being so bossy. He continued, “I went out to see if the cops were back again. You know, searching the place or whatever? And there was Candy, standing around in her bathrobe.”

“My bathrobe,” I corrected him. “She had just gotten home from jail.”

“That’s what Candy said. She said you helped her a lot, Jessie. I was really glad she made bail, but she told me she wasn’t in the mood to talk and went inside.”

“She needs to hide, Bryce. And we need to let her.”

He agreed with my wisdom and swore he wouldn’t mention her whereabouts to anyone.

I told him about my couch. “Would you come help me with it?”

He nodded and went to find some shoes while I waited in his atrocious living room. Like all the apartments in our building, Bryce’s had amazing high ceilings, a few brick walls, and some nice windows. But his decor of packing-crate tables and picked-up-at-the-side-of-the-road furniture ruined the elegant ambience. The electronics, on the other hand, looked way more elaborate than my own humble stereo system.

Bryce came out from his bedroom shod in sandals. Not exactly safety shoes, but I led him up the stairs and to my couch.

“How’s Candy doing?” he whispered as he grabbed one end.

“She had a rough night.” I struggled with my side of the thing and apologized for it being so heavy, but Bryce was unfazed. He’s one of those tall, gangly young men whose strength can be surprising.

“This is better,” I said once we had it in place and were sitting at opposite ends. Without the couch, my living room had looked rather forlorn. But now everything was back the way I liked it.

“Your apartment is so much nicer than mine.” Bryce, too, was admiring the decor. “I guess it pays to buy actual furniture.”

“My offer still stands, you know? I’ll help you decorate anytime you’re ready.”

We both knew this would never happen, even though my preference for sleek furniture in soft grays and whites would probably suit a man’s taste. But Bryce had other priorities to spend his money on—like rent and tuition.

I got up to start the tea kettle as Snowflake hopped up to inspect the couch. She paced along the back, sniffing daintily here and there, as if she had never seen the thing before.

Once she decided the couch could stay, she settled down near Bryce’s head and started swatting at his pony tail. Bless his heart, he ignored his allergies, and offered her the requisite pat and three sneezes before moving to a barstool at the counter.

“So what’s the deal with Candy?” he asked. “She’s gonna get off, isn’t she?”

I said I certainly did hope so, but was quick to point out Captain Rye had closed the case. “He’s off on vacation, and meanwhile Carter O’Connell’s still stuck in jail.”

“Rye’s on vacation? You’re kidding?”

“I wish I was.” I pushed our tea cups across the counter and sat down. “But don’t worry. I’ll prove Candy’s innocence myself if need be.”

“I’ve got something to confess, Jessie.”

“Oh?”

Bryce picked up a teaspoon and stirred it around the sugar bowl, creating a lovely whirlpool design. “Rye caught me with that picture you gave me last night. He was kind of mad about it.”

He winced as if he expected a scolding, but I assured him Rye is always angry about something. “You did your best.”

“Which wasn’t too good.” He scooped two teaspoons of sugar into his cup, completely ruining his artwork. “How about you? Have you learned anything useful?”

I shrugged. “I’ve learned all kinds of things. Who knows what might be useful.”

“Did Karen get anything out of Evan?”

I perked up. “She did great, actually. She found out Stanley got a promotion right before he died. So I paid a visit to Boykin and Dent today.”

“You went over there?” Bryce was clearly impressed. “What’d you find out?”

“Stanley had some enemies at work. Believe it or not, he was actually blackmailing his boss.”

“I can believe it. Did the boss kill him?”

I said I doubted it, and gave a brief summary of the other employees, while Bryce used the teaspoon to tap out a tune on the edge of his cup.

“Of all the Boykin and Dent people, Thomas Fell seems the most suspicious,” I concluded. “Do you know him, Bryce? Maybe he was with Stanley the other night?”

He shook his head and insisted he had no recollection of any Thomas at The Stone Fountain.

“Well then, I probably wasted my whole afternoon.” I sighed dramatically. “I’m getting nowhere.”

Bryce put down the spoon. “Come on, now. What about all the people at the bar you’ve been talking to? You’ve had to learn something?”

“Like from the Dibbles? Other than drinking me into bankruptcy, they’ve been completely useless. And don’t you dare tell Audrey I have my couch back.”

We turned to observe my sinister couch, where Snowflake had settled down for a nap.

“Let me guess,” Bryce said. “It’s got cooties?”

“Who knows what it’s doing to my chakras, even as we speak.”

“The only thing dangerous about that couch is the cat hair.”

We turned back to our tea. “Umm, Bryce?” I said as he returned to his tapping the teacup. “What do you know about the Allens?”

“What about them?”

“They remind me of the Dibbles.” I shrugged and tried sounding nonchalant. “They seem kind of unhappy.”

“Kind of? What’s up with the Allens?”

“I don’t know,” I lied. “But I’m getting so nosey. I’m wondering if they’ll stay together.”

“I think so—they like fighting with each other.” Bryce tapped faster. “But then again, I thought Stan and Candy would stay together. Until this Carter guy came along.” He stopped tapping and the spoon froze in midair.

“What?”

“I have an idea, Jessie. But you’re not gonna like it.”

I rolled my eyes and told him he was starting to sound like Rye. “Spit it out.”

“Maybe it was Candy’s new boyfriend after all.”

“What? How can you say such a thing, Bryce? We don’t even know Carter O’Connell.”

“That’s what I’m getting at.” He held my gaze. “We don’t know him.”

“But Candy knows him,” I argued. “She’s known him since high school.” I frowned at my own words—emphasizing Candy and Carter’s history together wasn’t exactly the greatest defense.

“Maybe Carter’s not as nice as she thinks he is,” Bryce was saying. “Stanley sure wasn’t.”

Okay, good point.

The phone rang, and we jumped in unison. I hopped up to answer.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Captain Rye was his usual cordial self.

“Well,” I said slowly. “I’m having a cup of tea with Bryce Dixon.”

“Excuse me?”

“Tea, Captain.” I winked at Bryce. “Bryce takes his with sugar.”

Rye took a deep breath. “Get rid of him, Ms. Hewitt. We need to talk.”

Chapter 22

I would have refused to kick out my guest so rudely, but Bryce was already leaving. I held my hand to the receiver. “Remember, Bryce. Mum’s the word on Candy being home?”

He put an index finger to his lips and shut the door behind him.

“Okay,” I said into the phone. “You’ve successfully scared away poor Bryce. Now what’s this about you being on vacation? Are you insane?”

“Vacation?”

“Don’t mess with me, Captain. I’ve had a very long day, and then came home to find Jimmy Beak camped out on my couch. He took great pleasure in informing me you’ve skipped town.”

“My whereabouts aren’t the issue, Ms. Hewitt. It’s yours we’re talking about.”

“Mine?”

“Yes, yours. Tell me about this long day you’ve had. Starting with your visit to Boykin and Dent. I thought we agreed you would leave things to me.”

“Nooo,” I argued. “We agreed I wouldn’t go around announcing you’re still working on the case.” Rye started to protest, but I continued, “I never said I would stop looking. I have uncovered a few interesting facts, by the way. That is, once you decide to return from vacation.”

While Rye did some deep breathing exercises on the other end of the line, I joined Snowflake on the couch and took off my shoes.

“Captain Rye?” I asked as I rubbed my feet. “Are you still there?”

“I just got off the phone with Roslynn Mayweather. That name sound familiar?”

“Roslynn the Receptionist? Oh, yes, sir. I spoke with her this afternoon and insisted she call you.”

Rye may have whined.

“Aren’t you even interested in what I learned?”

“Do I tell you how to write your love scenes?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Do I tell you how to do your job? Did you really think Ms. Mayweather’s affair with Billy Joe Dent would be news to me?”

I sat forward. “You knew about this?”

“Densmore’s been questioning Dent for days. I will say Ms. Mayweather’s finally coming clean about it was,” he hesitated, “satisfying.”

“That’s where the money came from, correct? Stanley was blackmailing Dent?”

“It accounts for some of it, yes. What isn’t accounted for is Dent’s whereabouts Saturday night.”

“He was with Roslynn,” I said.

“Not such a great alibi. At least he’s stopped lying about the non-existent poker game, but his claim about being with his mistress has almost as many holes.”

“But Roslynn can corroborate for him. She told me point blank Dent didn’t do it.”

“And you believed her?”

“Intuition tells me she wasn’t lying.”

“You’re kidding, right? For someone who’s so eager to find a murderer, you’re way too willing to let people off the hook.” I tried to defend myself, but Rye was on a roll. “Listen to me, Jessie. If Candy Poppe isn’t the killer, someone you know and trust is. You need to be careful.

“Speaking of which, what’s this about you rifling through Sweetzer’s office? You’re a little scary, you know that?”

I had to admit it had been a little scary in Stanley’s office. I cringed at Snowflake. “Did Roslynn mention that, too?”

“She says you found an address book?”

I described Stanley’s little black book, expecting to get a stern lecture about stealing, snooping, and minding my own business. But Rye surprised me by showing some sincere, non-angry interest.

“I can’t believe you found something my own officers overlooked, but I want it.”

I told him he could pick it up anytime. “Believe it or not, I am trying to help.”

“Yeah, right. And don’t you dare start calling any of those women and harassing them. You understand me?”

“What about Camille Allen?”

Rye skipped a beat. “What about her?”

“She’s in the book,” I said. “I’m no expert, as you keep reminding me, but it appears she had an affair with Stanley.”

“Do not, I repeat, do not go over to that damn bar and ask her about it. You got that?””

“Are you through issuing orders?”

He cleared his throat. “Please,” he said quietly. “Just let it go. I’ll have Densmore check into it.”

I promised not to harass Camille. “Although it sounds like Lieutenant Densmore could use some assistance. What with you being on vacation.”

“Will you stop it with the vacation? I may be out of town, but I am not on any vacation. Not that I couldn’t use one—after dealing with you all week. Which brings us to another point.”

“Oh?”

“What did you think you were doing with Boykin?”

“Do you mean Arnold Boykin?” I do believe I was starting to enjoy myself.

“Yes, Ms. Hewitt. The old letch you were cozying up to all afternoon. Roslynn Mayweather mentioned that, too.”

I winked at Snowflake. “Are you jealous, Captain Rye?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

I swallowed my smile and reported the pertinent details of my conversation with the old letch. For the sake of the poor Captain’s sanity, I omitted the channeling of my heroines thing, and the groping hand on the thigh thing.