Black and Blueberry Die (A Fresh-Baked Mystery Book 11) (14 page)

“I have no artistic ability whatsoever,” Phyllis said. “Being able to paint is like...magic to me.”

“But she can solve murders,” Sam said. “That’s an art.”

Phyllis was starting to be not so sure about that.

“Where to now?” Sam asked as they got back into the pickup a few minutes later.

“Why don’t you drive by the paint and body shop?” Phyllis said. “I want to talk to Brian again, if I can do it without spooking him.”

“If he didn’t do anything, there won’t be any reason for him to spook.”

“Maybe not, but I intend to be careful anyway.”

It took about ten minutes to reach the stretch of Highway 377 where Lone Star Paint and Body was located. As they approached the business, Phyllis said, “Slow down. Brian’s out front talking to someone.”

“I’ll pull in here at this convenience store,” Sam said as he turned the wheel and steered the pickup smoothly into the store’s parking lot. There was nothing about the move to draw any attention. “Can you still see the place from here?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure there’s any real reason for us to be skulking around like this. He’s probably just talking to a customer.”

The conversation was taking place in front of one of the open repair bays. An expensive SUV was parked in front of the office. Brian, wearing his usual coveralls, was talking to a woman with long blond hair. He moved back a little, just inside the bay, and the woman went with him. Phyllis could still see both of them, although they were in the shadows now and not as clear.

Clear enough, though, for her to see Brian take the woman into his arms and kiss her.

“Well,” Sam said, “probably not a customer after all, unless Brian’s runnin’ a special deal on, uh, body work.”

“I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he carries on with some of his customers,” Phyllis said. “A young man as good-looking as he is probably has plenty of opportunities. He told us he doesn’t intend to settle down any time soon.”

Inside the repair bay, the kiss continued for a long moment. The woman, whose hair fell halfway down her back, had her arms around Brian’s neck and her body plastered to his. Eventually, though, they moved apart. They exchanged a few more words, then the woman walked to the car in front of the office, climbed in, and drove away. Phyllis had gotten a good enough look at her to know she was attractive, but that was all.

“You still want to go talk to him?” Sam asked.

Phyllis thought about it, then nodded and said, “Yes. Just because one of his girlfriends stopped by his shop doesn’t change anything.”

Sam parked the pickup in front of the office. Brian came out of the repair bays, wiping his hands on a rag. He smiled at them and said, “Mrs. Newsom, Mr. Fletcher, good to see you again. Have you got news about Danny? You’re gonna get him back here pretty soon so he can help me out with all this work, right?”

“I still hope so,” Phyllis said, “but we don’t have any news, just a few more questions.”

“Sure. Come on in the shop, out of the sun.” Brian grinned. “If you don’t tell the insurance company, I won’t.”

He leaned against a car with a crumpled front fender and crossed his arms, waiting to hear what Phyllis had to say.

“Do you remember Danny mentioning anything about Roxanne getting in trouble at the beauty salon?” she asked. “About a customer who was so upset they were talking about a lawsuit?”

“A lawsuit?” Brian repeated. “Over a haircut or a facial? That’s crazy!”

“Some people’s appearance is very important to them.”

“Yeah, but hair will grow back.” Brian shook his head. “No, I don’t recall Danny saying anything about that. He didn’t talk much about the salon. I don’t think Roxanne told him a lot about what went on there.” He shrugged. “And Danny wouldn’t care about a lot of gossip, anyway. No offense, but isn’t that what women do in places like that? Just gossip and talk trash about their friends?”

“Sometimes,” Phyllis said. “Were you ever with Danny when he stopped at the salon?”

“Once or twice, I think. Sometimes we’d go get something to eat, then stop by there if he needed to talk to Roxanne. But like I said, that only happened a couple of times, at most.”

“Do you know any of the other people who work there? The lady who owns the salon, maybe, or the receptionist? Aurora is her name, I believe.”

Brian thought about it, then slowly shook his head. “No, not really. I kinda remember the girl who works up at the front. Always has her hair dyed some funny color.”

“That’s her,” Phyllis said.

“I guess I’m an old-fashioned guy in some ways. I like for a woman’s hair to be its natural color, or at least a color you can find in nature. Never cared much for all the blue and pink and green hair, things like that.”

“Got to say I agree with you about that,” Sam put in.

Brian looked more serious as he said, “Do you think Roxanne’s murder was caused by something that happened at the salon?”

“We’re still just trying to consider all the possibilities,” Phyllis said.

“That doesn’t sound too promising.”

“So far it’s not. But we’re not going to give up. We’ll keep digging until we get to the truth.”

“For Danny’s sake, I’m glad to hear that. If there’s anything I can do...”

“We’ll let you know,” Phyllis promised.

As they drove away a few minutes later, Sam said, “Well, I don’t reckon we know any more than we did.”

Phyllis didn’t say anything, but her forehead was creased in a frown when she didn’t respond and Sam looked over at her.

“You’ve figured it out,” he said, excitement coming into his voice.

“No,” she said, “I haven’t. But I’ve seen or heard something that’s important. I can tell that. Let’s go to the salon.”

••●••

If anyone had pressed her, Phyllis wouldn’t have been able to say why she told Sam to head for Paul’s Beauty Salon. It was instinct, a sense that a connection existed she hadn’t made consciously, but something in her brain was trying to tell her what it was. She hoped that by following her hunch, everything would become clear...or at least less obscure.

Along the way, she took out the copy of the yearbook picture she had printed and studied it intently. The other times she had looked at it, her attention had been focused on Brian and Roxanne. Now she looked at the other four young people and checked their names in the caption. The handsome football players were Derek Nelson and Nathan Morgan. The pretty cheerleaders, a blonde and a brunette, were D.J. Hutton and Kirsten Gregory. None of those names meant a thing to Phyllis, and she didn’t recognize any of them.

“You got a mighty serious look on your face,” Sam said. “Hate to interrupt you, but we’re almost there.”

Phyllis looked up from the photograph and sighed. “I’m not doing any good anyway. I’m trying to cudgel my brain into working, but it doesn’t want to cooperate.”

“Cudgel,” Sam repeated. “That’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time. It’s a good one, though. Sometimes it really fits. Like bludgeon.”

“That reminds me too much of what happened to Roxanne. On the other hand, reminders are good, because they help keep me focused on helping Danny.” Phyllis looked over at him. “Do you remember how many times Roxanne was hit, according to the medical examiner’s testimony at the trial?”

“I couldn’t tell you for sure,” Sam said as he pulled into the parking lot in front of the salon. “Quite a few, though. A couple dozen? Enough to make it a really ugly murder. Is that important?”

“It tells us the killer was angry.”

“Well, he’d have to be pretty mad to—”

“Not necessarily. A killer can strike with cold deliberation. If all he wanted was for Roxanne to die, a few blows might have been enough to accomplish that. The way he kept on hitting her again and again tells me he had a lot of rage directed toward her bottled up inside him.”

“Which takes us back to Brian or Danny, the two fellas we know were involved with her romantically. You know the old sayin’ about there bein’ a thin line between love and hate.”

“You don’t have to be in a relationship to feel rage toward another person.”

“No, but if somebody snaps, passion—one way or the other—could sure fuel what comes next.”

Phyllis nodded. Everything Sam said was true, but it didn’t seem to fit with the vague picture forming in her mind. She tried to force it, and it just wouldn’t go.

She put that aside for the moment and opened the pickup door.

“You don’t have to come in with me,” she told Sam.

He opened his door as well. “When you’re on the trail of a killer like this, you’re not goin’ anywhere without me,” he said.

They walked into the salon, which was busy as usual. Aurora was the only one in the reception area, however. She looked surprised to see them and said, “Hello. I don’t think your mani/pedi appointment is until next week, Mrs. Newsom, but I can check...”

“No need to check,” Phyllis said. “I’m not here for that. I’d like to ask you a question, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” Aurora said with a slight shrug.

Phyllis took one of the pictures from her purse and set it on the desk. “I know you probably recognize Danny Jackson, but do you know the man in this picture with him?”

Aurora frowned as she looked at the photograph Phyllis had printed, then raised her head.

“What is this?” she asked. “I remember you talked some about Roxanne before, and so did you, Mr. Fletcher. What’s going on here? What business is it of yours who I know?”

“You’re not in any trouble—” Sam began.

“I’m not so sure about that.” Aurora pushed her chair back a little, as if trying to put some distance between her and the two of them, but not so far that she couldn’t reach the phone. She picked it up, pushed a button on it, and said, “Pauline, could you come out here right now?” Her tone of voice showed how spooked she was. She paused for a second and then said, “Please.” She hung up the phone and said to Phyllis and Sam, “You should talk to my aunt.”

“We’re really not trying to cause a problem,” Phyllis said. “We just need a little information.”

“What are you? Cops?” Aurora shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not at your age.”

“We’re not police,” Phyllis said, “but we are investigators—”

Pauline opened one of the glass doors, stepped into the reception area, and said in a clearly annoyed tone, “What is this?”

“These two showed up and started asking questions about Roxanne and her husband again,” Aurora told her aunt. “It was kind of weird before, but now it’s starting to get crazy. They claim to be detectives of some sort.”

“Aurora, now take it easy,” Pauline said, her voice dulcet and soothing again. “I’m sure Phyllis and...?” She looked at Sam.

He supplied his name. “Sam Fletcher, Miz Gibbs. And just so you’ll know, Phyllis and I aren’t delusional.”

“I never said you were.”

“And we didn’t ask about Roxanne and Danny,” Phyllis said. She tapped a finger on the photograph that still lay on the desk. “We asked about this man.”

Pauline had the same instinctive reaction as Aurora. She looked down at the picture and said, “That’s Roxanne’s husband, but I’m not sure about the other man—Wait. That’s the man who owns that garage with him, isn’t it?”

“It’s a paint and body shop,” Aurora said. Phyllis thought she had probably spent more time talking to Danny than Pauline had. “And yes, that’s him. I don’t remember his name. Brad? Something like that?”

Phyllis and Sam looked at each other. Phyllis’s instincts told her that Aurora was telling the truth, and Sam’s tiny nod showed that he agreed with her.

“I’ll be honest with you,” she said to Pauline and Aurora.

Pauline folded her arms across her chest and said, “That might be nice for a change.”

“Like I told Aurora, we’re investigators. We work for the lawyer who’s handling Danny Jackson’s appeal. We’re trying to find proof that he didn’t kill Roxanne.”

“Who else could have?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. But we think this man might have had something to do with it.” Phyllis pointed again to the photo of Brian Flynn.

“Y’all already know who he is. It’s not like you need us to identify him.”

“What we needed was confirmation that he’d been here at the salon.”

“He was here,” Pauline said. “Once or twice with Roxanne’s husband, anyway.”

“But that’s all? He never came around when Danny wasn’t with him?”