A Healthy Homicide (18 page)

 

I struggled to come to grips with Miguel’s marital status. I needed to rethink everything I thought I knew about the guy. No wife meant no motive. He was a freewheeling single male who could date whomever he wanted. There went all my theories about why he might have killed Carla.

“You okay?” the woman asked me.

I brought my attention back to her and shook my head. “Guess I got lost in my thoughts.”

She nudged me with her elbow. “He’s coming this way. How do I look?” She smoothed down her hair and stuck out her chest.

Miguel reached us before I could answer.

“Hi, Miguel,” the woman sang, thrusting her chest out even more. She’d better watch it, or she’d throw her back out.

Miguel flashed his straight white teeth. “Why, Valerie, it’s been far too long. Where have you been hiding yourself?”

“Oh, here and there. I’ve been volunteering at my son’s school. You know how I love working with children.”

“It’s one of your sterling qualities.” He nodded toward me. “And, Dana, you’re looking lovely, as always.”

I considered my navy blue polo shirt and khakis with fresh dirt stains on the knees. “Um, thanks.” Now that I knew Miguel was divorced, I was looking at him in a whole new light. He wasn’t some sleazy married guy with no morals. He was a single guy playing the field. No law against that.

Valerie stepped up to Miguel’s side and laid a hand on his arm. I noticed she managed to lean a boob against him, too. “Will I be seeing you at Patty’s birthday party next weekend?” she cooed.

“I’m planning to stop by. I’ll look for you.”

“Be sure that you do,” Valerie gushed as she squeezed his arm. I felt like I was getting a free lesson in Flirting 101.

Miguel patted her hand and shifted away from her. “I must bid you ladies adieu. Work calls.” He strolled down the path, hands in his pockets.

Valerie turned back to me, feeling her cheek. “Does the spa have chemical peels?”

“No, but we do offer facials with all-natural ingredients.”

Valerie waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah, that’s all well and good, but it won’t get rid of these wrinkles before that party. Guess I’ll cancel my massage. I don’t have much time to whip myself into shape.”

I wanted to tell her that all the time in the world wouldn’t turn back the clock and make her a twenty-something vixen, but she’d already rushed off to talk to Gretchen.

When she was out of sight, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket. I was about to hit Jason’s number when one of the nearby cabin doors opened. A couple emerged, laughing and talking. They said hello on their way by, and I decided that the middle of the path was not the best location to make a private phone call.

Still holding my phone, I cut past the cabins and followed the Chicken Run Trail, careful not to walk too far in among the trees. Reception tended to be spotty farther along the path. I stopped under an oak tree and listened for any sound. Other than the hum of insects and an occasional bird chirping, the area was silent.

Certain I wouldn’t be overheard, I made the call.

“Hey, Dana,” Jason said when he answered. His words were slightly distorted.

“Did I interrupt your lunch?” I asked.

“I’m eating a sandwich at my desk, but I’d much rather talk to you.”

At his words, I got that warm, fuzzy feeling that was becoming a regular sensation anytime I talked to Jason. “You’ll never guess why I called.”

“You won a free cruise, and I’m the lucky guest?”

“No.”

“You’ve secretly been taking striptease lessons and need to practice on me for homework?”

“No.” Although that one did sound tempting.

“Too bad,” Jason said. “I give up. Why’d you call?”

My grip tightened as I pictured how excited he’d be at my news. “Miguel is divorced. He wasn’t cheating on a jealous wife, after all. Or even a wife who wasn’t jealous. That means he had no reason to kill Carla.”

“Huh.”

I hadn’t expected Jason to drive straight over to celebrate my discovery, but I had anticipated a little more enthusiasm. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Sorry. You did an excellent job finding out Miguel is single.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I said, not hiding my irritation.

I heard typing over the phone. “I’m not, but even if Miguel doesn’t have a wife, he still lied about his alibi. I have to wonder why.”

In my excitement over the divorce, I’d forgotten about Miguel’s nonexistent alibi. “Let’s think. Maybe he panicked. Maybe he doesn’t have any way to prove where he was that night, and was worried the police would arrest him if he couldn’t establish his whereabouts.”

“They’d need a lot more than that,” Jason said. “Lots of people can’t provide evidence of where they were on any given day.”

“He might not know that. Spouses and boyfriends are usually at the top of a cop’s suspect list.” But it did seem odd. Where had Miguel been that night? Assuming he wasn’t the one who killed Carla, why else would he need to lie?

Jason broke into my thoughts. “Okay, let’s say Miguel has no motive. Who does that leave us with?”

I used my free hand to count off the suspects. “Erin, of course. Carla didn’t approve of her relationship with Ricky and threatened to kick Erin out of the house. Ricky, for the same reason . . . Plus, Carla withdrew her offer to give Ricky a loan for school.” I paused for breath. “Then there’s Patricia, who wanted to partner with Carla on the spa, but Carla turned her down. Plus, Stan, who . . .” My voice trailed off. I still had no ideas about Stan.

Jason read my mind. “Even without a motive, we gotta keep him on the list.”

“Yeah, we should. You know, I was talking to Patricia, and she got all bent out of shape when I mentioned I’d spoken to Stan. Remember how I told you I ran into him last night at the grocery store?”

“Yes, that was right before you went to the spa by yourself, and Erin caught you,” he said dryly. “I remember.”

I kept talking before he got sidetracked by my lack of judgment. “Anyway, I thought it was some weird control thing that she didn’t like people talking to her husband when she wasn’t around, but maybe that wasn’t the reason. Maybe Patricia knows Stan killed Carla for whatever reason, and she’s afraid he’ll bust out with a confession if she’s not there to stop him.”

The phone was silent for so long that I thought my call had been dropped. Then Jason spoke again. “Does Stan strike you as the type to have emotional outbursts?”

I visualized Stan in his conservative suit, buying his wife’s feminine hygiene products. “Well, no. He’s definitely a steady Eddie. Aren’t most accountants? But maybe the guilt’s getting to him.”

“Sorry. I’m not buying it.”

I sighed. “Me neither. Especially since he has an alibi.”

I heard whistling behind me and whirled around, my heart thumping. I wasn’t sure who to expect, but it was only an older gentleman, whom I recognized as one of the guests. He wore a straw hat on his head and had a pair of binoculars around his neck. He carried a book about birds in one hand.

“Oops. I gotta go,” I told Jason.

“Me, too, but let me know if you find out anything else.”

“Right back atcha.” I clicked off, said hello to the man, and headed back to the house.

I waved to Berta and the chickens on my way past the chicken coop and cut through the hedge near the redwood tree. A man was soaking in the Jacuzzi, a glass of wine nearby. Another man and a woman were playing Scrabble at one of the picnic tables. I slipped in the French doors of the dining room and crossed the hall to the office.

Once in my chair, I downloaded the scant few photos from the camera onto the computer and realized I needed to take a lot more before I could update the Web site. I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the farm, taking photos of anything interesting that caught my eye and trying to get the pigs and chickens to cooperate. They had an uncanny knack for turning around right when I clicked a photo, giving me plenty of shots of their backsides. I deleted those.

By the time I finished sorting through the pictures and picking the best ones for the site, it was time to go home. I decided to leave through the kitchen door so I could say good-bye to Wilbur. I followed the path to the pigsty and stopped a moment to give him a friendly pat before moving on. As I passed the spa entrance, Gretchen came out, pulling on her jacket. I slowed my steps and waited for her to catch up before I resumed my regular pace.

“Heading home?” I asked.

“Yep. Did my last facial a few minutes ago.”

A fly buzzed in my ear, and I swatted it away. “Before I forget, I learned this afternoon that Miguel isn’t married, after all. Turns out he’s divorced.”

“So he’s not a total scumbag,” Gretchen said. “I probably should have been nicer to him during our session, then.”

I laughed. “Maybe he’ll think you were playing hard to get.” We stopped at my car. “I don’t suppose he said anything about Carla’s murder while he was here.”

“Not a word. I tried to work it into the conversation a couple of times, but he always changed the subject. The guy’s slick.”

“I’ve noticed that myself.” I unlocked my car door. “Thanks, anyway, for trying to get him to talk.”

“I only wish I’d learned something to help. Oh, well, see you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

She walked to her car while I climbed in mine. The drive home was mercifully short. As soon as I got in the apartment, I kicked off my shoes and sank onto the couch, doing my best to ignore the open magazines, the half-full bowls of cereal, and the flip-flops that covered the coffee table. I’d leave all that for Ashlee. I closed my eyes and let the day melt away.

I was starting to drift off when a sound penetrated the fog in my brain. I heard someone clomping up the outdoor stairs and then a key being inserted in the lock. I opened my eyes and groaned. Ashlee was home.

She bounced into the room and kicked the door shut behind her. “Hey, Dana. Brittany’s coming over in a minute.”

I sat up and surveyed the room. “That doesn’t give us much time to clean up this mess.”

“Who says we’re cleaning anything? It’s only Brittany.”

“Still, we should make an effort,” I said. “And since this is your mess, I’ll let you start.”

Ashlee made a face but moved toward the coffee table. “Fine, whatever.” She swept the magazines into a stack and picked up a cereal bowl. She pointed at the table. “I knew it. Isn’t that your napkin?”

I held up the napkin by two fingers and inspected it as if I was a detective at a crime scene. “I don’t see my fingerprints on it, but I’ll throw it away, anyway.”

“See? I knew this mess wasn’t all mine.”

“You’re right. That one napkin is obviously what ruined the whole look.” I carried it to the kitchen and dropped it in the trash can under the sink.

Someone, presumably Brittany, knocked on the door. I went to answer it, but Ashlee said, “Wait!” She scurried into the bathroom, probably to make sure her makeup hadn’t moved since the last time she checked.

Another knock sounded, and Ashlee yelled, “Coming!” Before I could reach the door, she brushed past me and flung it open. Brittany waited on the other side.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Ashlee said. “Get in here.” She grabbed Brittany’s wrist and pulled her into the room.

Brittany giggled. “Good to see you, too.” She looked at me. “Hey, are you coming with us tonight?”

Before I could ask where they were going, Ashlee piped up. “Yeah, you should come. We’re going bowling.”

“The two of you?” I asked. Usually Ashlee went bowling only with her latest love interest. She swore the lighting in the place made her look like Heidi Klum.

“One of my friends spotted a bunch of hot guys there last time she went. Now that I’ve got a slot open in the boyfriend department, I thought I’d try my luck,” Ashlee announced.

Ah, that explained it. I considered my exciting plans for a Friday evening, which involved a frozen meal and watching TV. I needed to get out more. Plus, bowling was fairly cheap. “Sure, I’ll go.”

“Cool. Let’s hurry up and get ready,” Ashlee urged. “I want to stake out a spot at the alley before the after-work crowd shows up.”

I went to my room to get cleaned up. Twenty minutes later I’d showered, dressed, and primped. I found Brittany on the couch by herself, reading one of Ashlee’s fashion magazines. Apparently, the poor girl had been left to entertain herself while Ashlee and I had both gotten ready. We really needed to work on our hosting skills.

“Ashlee’s not done yet?” I asked, though I already knew the answer. I’d never known Ashlee to be ready before me.

“Haven’t seen her.”

“Can I get you a soda or anything?”

Brittany flipped the magazine closed. “I’m good.”

I sat on the other side of the couch. “Are you searching for a new job now that the spa’s closed?”

“Naw. My uncle’s got a dentist office in town. His admin’s having a baby, and I’m filling in for her while she’s out on maternity leave. With any luck, she’ll stay out and I can work there full-time.” Brittany giggled. “Don’t tell my uncle I said that. He thinks she’s the best admin he’s ever had.”

“What about that other girl who worked with you at the spa? What was her name? Jessica?”

“She had to move back in with her parents in Oakland. I’m sure she’ll find a gig down there.”

Ashlee came out of her room. “Okay, girls, let’s go find some guys.”

I studied her miniskirt. “How will you bowl in that?”

She self-consciously tugged the hem down. “I’ll be fine. And this skirt guarantees that every guy in the place will have his eyes on me.”

“Well, sure. It’s a free peep show.”

Ashlee rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

We all tramped downstairs and piled into Ashlee’s car. I hurried to buckle myself in as she revved the engine and floored it in reverse. She took the turn out of the driveway too fast, and I grabbed the back of Brittany’s headrest to steady myself.