A Healthy Homicide (10 page)

“No, I’m worried about getting in trouble with the police.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Gretchen, we’ve been over this. The police are not focusing solely on you. They have other suspects.”

Gretchen shook her head. “But you don’t know what I’ve done.”

That stopped me. What was she confessing to? I almost didn’t want her to continue, afraid of what she might admit to. “What did you do?” I finally asked.

She pressed a hand to her temple. “I can’t say.”

I threw myself back against the chair, trying to hide my annoyance. “Look, Gretchen, I want to help, but I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s going on. Nothing you’ve done can possibly be as bad as you think.” At least I hoped not.

“But it is.” She rubbed her forehead and then let her hand drop. “I lied to the police. If they find out, I know they’ll arrest me.” She reached out for me. “Oh, Dana, what’s going to happen?”

I could only stare at her. Did the local jail allow visitors? I might need to find out.

 

Gretchen slapped a hand over her mouth and grimaced, like she was trying not to throw up, but I was too worried about her admission to pay attention to any stomach troubles.

“Gretchen, what did you lie to the police about?” I asked.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “What happened at the Pampered Life the night of the murder.”

“Did Carla catch you snooping in the spa, after all?”

Her eyes flew open. “No, I swear, she never saw me there.”

I wanted to believe her, but she’d already lied once. My face burned as I thought about how I’d defended her reputation against those gossipers. She might have been playing me for a fool the whole time. “So what happened?”

“I told you. I checked the back door to see if it was locked.” Gretchen paused. “But instead of walking away, I went inside.”

A chill ran through me. Gretchen had been at the murder scene. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” she insisted. “No one was in the hallway, but I did hear voices. It sounded like they were arguing.”

“Who’re
they?
”

“I don’t know, but I think it was a man and a woman.”

Had Miguel visited Carla that night? Had Gretchen almost overheard Carla’s murder? She might have been in danger and not even realized it. “Did you hear what they were saying?”

“Only a little. The woman kept telling the guy not to worry, but he kept repeating that everyone would know.”

“Know what?” Maybe Miguel was worried that people would find out he and Carla were dating. But then, why had he been at her Celebration of Life if he didn’t want people to know about their relationship?

Gretchen plucked at the chair cushion. “I didn’t hear the rest. I panicked that they’d catch me in the spa, so I took off. I don’t know what possessed me to go inside in the first place.”

I felt frustration well up. “Why on earth didn’t you tell this to the police? They need to find whomever Carla was talking to. If he didn’t kill her, he might have seen something that would help them figure out who did.”

“They could arrest me for trespassing if I told them I went inside the building. Gordon would fire me the minute he heard. No one else in this town would hire me if I got sent to prison.”

I snatched my milk shake off the side table and sucked down a large gulp, trying to quell my anger. I slapped the cup back down. “People don’t go to prison for trespassing, Gretchen. Besides, you’re missing the bigger picture. If the police can find the man you overheard talking to Carla, then the detective can verify that she was still alive when you were there.”

At this, Gretchen looked up.

“Don’t you see?” I said. “You’ll be in the clear. Everyone will know you couldn’t have killed Carla. You’ve got to tell the police.” And if she didn’t, I would.

Hope lit up Gretchen’s face. “I never thought of it that way.”

“Talking to the cops is your best choice. Look, I don’t know what they’ll do when they find out you lied to them, but it’ll be easier to come clean now than to let the cops find out later on their own. I can give you Detective Palmer’s number. I’m sure I have one of his business cards in my purse.”

“Wait, I might have one.” Gretchen rose with renewed energy and dug around the shelf of the hostess stand until she pulled out a card. “He left it with me last time we talked.” She studied the small white rectangle. “I’ll give him a call. I hope he isn’t too mad.”

I rose and gave her a hug. “You’ll feel so much better once you get this off your chest.”

Gretchen picked up the handset. “I’ll call right now, before I chicken out.”

“Good idea. I’ll leave you to it.” I grabbed my lunch bag and milk shake and left the tent, my mind already processing Gretchen’s new information. Who was the mystery man talking to Carla? Brittany had told Ashlee that Carla was alone when she left work that night, so when did the guy show up? If Miguel was her boyfriend, it made perfect sense that he might slip in the back door to say hello. But what happened after that? What exactly had they been arguing about, and why would he kill Carla?

Or maybe Miguel wasn’t the man Gretchen had overheard. Maybe Ricky had stopped by unannounced and had tried to convince Carla that he was a good enough guy to date Erin. Had Carla insulted him, and had he lashed out by killing her?

Then again, maybe the argument Gretchen had overheard had nothing to do with Carla’s death. Maybe the guy had left, and the real killer had shown up right after that. Either way, identifying the mystery man could give the police vital information.

Still mulling over the possibilities, I entered the farmhouse through the French doors, cut through the dining room, and went straight into the office, shutting the door behind me. By now, I was famished, but before I scarfed down my cheeseburger, I sent a quick text to Jason to tell him I’d learned new details about Carla’s murder. We exchanged a few texts before he asked me to dinner. I readily agreed, relieved that I wouldn’t have to stop by the grocery store after work.

My dinner plans settled, I pulled my cheeseburger from the bag and ate, grimacing with each bite. Cold cheeseburgers were not nearly as tasty as hot cheeseburgers. At least the milk shake was still yummy, even if the consistency was more akin to chocolate milk at this point.

I finished my meal, such as it was, and turned to the computer. After spending the afternoon polishing a newspaper ad, helping Esther with the laundry, and cleaning the pool, I was ready to call it quits. I washed my hands at the kitchen sink and listened to Zennia and Esther, who sat at the kitchen table, discussing the menu for the rest of the week.

“I still say a nice, juicy rib-eye steak would hit the spot,” said Esther. “And a baked potato smothered with butter and sour cream, like Arthur used to love when he was alive.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Zennia. She looked three shades paler than normal. “Think of the saturated fat,” she whispered.

“How about chicken?” I asked as I turned off the faucet. “That’s healthier. But don’t tell Berta I’m the one who suggested it. I swear that chicken already hates me.”

Esther smacked her lips. “Chicken’s good. Zennia, do you know how to make sausage gravy?”

Zennia shuddered at the question. I finished drying my hands and said good-bye to them both, ready to head home.

 

 

At the apartment I picked up Ashlee’s shoes and sweatshirt from the floor and tossed them in her room, loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, and went to my room to get ready for dinner with Jason. After taking a quick shower and blow-drying my hair, I donned a long, flowy top, black leggings, and short black boots, then applied a swipe of mascara and a dab of lip gloss. Ashlee hadn’t come home from work yet, and I was thankful for the quiet as I got ready.

At six sharp the doorbell rang. Jason stood on the other side of the door, looking handsome in crisp jeans and a dress shirt.

He eyed me appreciatively. “Seeing you is definitely the best way to end the day.” He kissed me firmly on the lips, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.

I gathered my jacket and purse, and he held the door while I walked out of the apartment.

After the quick drive downtown, we dined at the Breaking Bread Diner, where I ordered the fish and chips, and he ordered a tri-tip sandwich. While we ate, I filled him in on everything I’d learned that day. When we left the restaurant, the sky was still light but the air was cool.

“How about a walk?” Jason asked.

I patted my stomach. “Sounds good to me. I need to burn off some calories after that meal.”

Jason wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close. “If it’s calories you want to burn, there are better ways than walking.”

“Aren’t you full of ideas.” I laid my hands on his chest and kissed him. We broke apart when a couple walked past on their way into the restaurant. “Let’s stick with the walk for now.”

We strolled down the sidewalk, arm in arm. When we stopped at the corner to wait for a car to drive by, I poked him in the belly. “Hey, I just realized that while I told you all sorts of tidbits about Carla’s murder at dinner, you haven’t said a single word about what you’ve uncovered.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Everything.”

He gave my waist a squeeze. “How about I skip over all the boring minutiae and tell you only what matters?”

“Even better. Let’s hear it.”

We walked down the block and stopped outside Going Back for Seconds, the consignment shop where Mom worked. The shop was closed for the night, and we took a seat on the bench in front of the store.

“Let’s see,” Jason said. “Did I mention the official cause of death was asphyxiation?”

I shivered, imagining Carla’s final moments as she gasped for air but could suck in only thick, viscous mud. “What a horrible way to die.”

“No kidding, although apparently the blow to her head probably knocked her unconscious first. With any luck, she didn’t suffer.”

“I hope not. Any idea what the killer used to hit her?”

A car sped past, most likely someone on their way home from work. The world didn’t stop because someone was murdered, but it would be nice if it slowed down for a minute.

“Nothing positive,” Jason said. “One of the employees remembers a statue on a shelf in Carla’s office. From the description, it sounds like a Chinese foo dog. But she’s the only one who remembers it, and she saw it only one time. Employees weren’t generally allowed in the office.”

“Would Erin know? She must have been in Carla’s office before.”

“She doesn’t remember a statue being there at all, so she was no help.”

Or else she was playing dumb because she was the one who hit Carla and then removed the evidence. “If Gretchen overheard Carla arguing with a guy in her office, how did she wind up in the mud room?” I asked.

“Is she sure the two people were standing in the office when she overheard them?”

I replayed our conversation in my head. “Now that you mention it, she never said one way or the other. I assumed that’s where they were since Brittany saw Carla in her office when she left for the night. But Gretchen stepped only into the hall when she stopped by later. She never even saw the people.”

“I’m sure the police will be able to determine where Carla was during the argument. Providing Gretchen called them, like she told you she would.”

Gretchen had better have called Detective Palmer. I didn’t like being lied to, and the police would take an even dimmer view. The longer she waited, the worse off she’d be. “Have you learned anything more about Miguel?”

“Not much. I discovered his last name is Ruiz and he works in public relations for the public works department. I left him a voice mail about a possible interview, but he hasn’t called back. I’ll try again.”

While we’d been talking, the evening sky had grown dark. I watched as streetlights up and down Main Street came on one by one. As if by mutual consent, Jason and I rose when the lamp closest to us popped to life.

“We didn’t burn off much of that dinner sitting on the bench,” I said. I surreptitiously tugged at my waistband, which was much tighter than before dinner. Maybe Brittany was right, and I should be concentrating on bikini season. Naw, I’d worry about it when I had to buy bigger pants.

Jason gave me a devilish grin. “I told you my way is a lot more effective.”

“You have a one-track mind,” I said. “Let’s keep walking. It’s still early. But let’s cross the street. I’d rather not walk past Carla’s place right now.”

We crossed to the other side and headed back up the street, glancing in the store windows. A miniature wooden plow and a collection of Raggedy Ann dolls filled the display window of the antique store. A single customer stood at the counter of the Get the Scoop ice cream parlor.

As we passed the empty storefront for what was once a short-lived wine bar, I looked in the window, surprised to see a light on in the back. The place had closed down several months ago, and I hadn’t heard about any plans to open a new business in the spot.

I stopped walking and gestured toward the store. “Why’s that light on?” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “Do you think someone’s broken in?”

“They wouldn’t turn the light on,” Jason said, not bothering to lower his voice. “They’d use a flashlight. Plus, I don’t think there’s anything left to steal.”

He had a point. I’d looked in the window a while back, and the previous owners had cleaned out the place, not leaving so much as a spare nail. “Think we should call the police, anyway?”

Jason shook his head. He didn’t seem nearly as concerned as I was. “Maybe the light was always on, and we never noticed before. Maybe someone is thinking of renting the place.”

That was possible, but the light gave me an uneasy feeling. Was someone back there, and if so, why would they break in? Was this the same person who’d snuck in the back door of Carla’s spa and killed her? No, that was absurd. Blossom Valley didn’t have some random killer on the loose, going around and trying the back doors of all the businesses, especially considering this store was out of business.

I jiggled the handle of the glass door. It turned in response. I guessed there was no reason to lock the door, with nothing to steal. “We should still check it out, don’t you think? Make sure things are okay.”

Jason shrugged. “If it’ll make you happy.”

I pushed the door inward, and Jason followed me inside, the rustling of our clothing sounding much too loud in the silent room. The glow from the nearby streetlamp and the light in the back room showed me that the room was completely bare. I stepped toward the back but froze when I heard voices.

Jason bumped into me from behind. “What?” he asked at regular volume.

“Shh! I heard people talking.”