Braking for Bodies (13 page)

Penelope cut her eyes to the door, then back to me,
her lips forming a sour pout. “Where I come from it's not healthy to stick your nose where you shouldn't. Sometimes it can get shot right off.”

“It's all the bagel's fault. Next time I'll try toast; toast doesn't roll.” Hobbling, I took the steps down to the congested back parking area, where I'd left Nancy Drew. Banged up like we both were, I didn't think the front door entrance was appropriate. The morning sun had managed to burn off most of the fog, but pockets still swirled around the delivery drays and bike racks for the employees. I started for Nancy and spotted Zo and Idle behind a discarded refrigerator. From the looks on their faces they weren't about to hold hands and skip off to have breakfast together.

Stooping down, I crept behind a red-and-green dray. Peep had something on Idle and Idle hated Peep, I got that, but how did Zo fit in with Idle? I clam-crawled under a gray dray and worked my way over to Trayser's Trading Post's carriage, which was probably dropping off a purchase to one of the guests.

“I got your note and I'm here,” Zo hissed. “What do you want?”

“You have that phone,” Idle said in a low voice. “I know you do, and you're going to blackmail us all just like Peep did. You were his secretary; you know the business. You're not as stupid as you'd like to have people believe you are.”

“Now that you got right, I'm not stupid.”

“Well, I'm done paying. I'm through.”

“We'll see about that.”

The trading post carriage started to move and I jumped back as it took off, leaving me right out there in the open air face to face with Idle and Zo. “Lost my contact lens. It rolled over here. Sure hope that buggy didn't flatten it like a pancake.” I hunkered down on the ground and started patting the ground. “Where could it be?”

“One of these days,” Idle said, coming over to me, “you're going to hear something you'd be better off not knowing and it's going to bite you right in the butt.”

Zo headed for the front of the hotel and Idle folded her arms, her eyes narrow slits as she watched me. “I guess it's gone.”

I stood, unwedged Nancy from the bike rack and started for town. Idle was right in that Zo probably did know what was on Peep's phone and she wasn't nearly the airhead she pretended to be.

It took a lot to shove Nancy along. Her front tire was flat, handlebars bent, basket squashed and she needed a new paint job. I wasn't the only one who got wrecked today, and Nancy was one of my favorites. I read her books when I was a kid and used to get so involved in the mystery I did the flashlight-under-the-blanket trick. Nancy was my hero. She was smarter than the guys, braver than the guys and she had a really neat car.

After the fifth person stopped me to ask if I was okay, I turned down Market and made for the medical center. For sure I was getting too close to the truth or this bike thing wouldn't have happened. But what was the truth? I didn't even feel close to having an answer,
but someone thought I did. I needed to get patched up and it would also give me a chance to chat with Sparkle. She was the nurse/receptionist and dating Fiona's brother when he wasn't away at a blacksmith convention.

The Stang and the Village Inn were hubs of gossip for sure, but it was the same crowd. On the other hand, everyone went to the medical center and Sparkle knew all. Most of the time she kept to that patient confidentiality thing, but after a handful of Oreos the girl was known to let a few things slip. Maybe she knew why Fiona and Idle were such good friends, and maybe she knew what Penelope was up to.

I had no idea what Sparkle's real name was, but she wore sequins on her jeans and beads on her smock, and on holidays she had tiaras to liven the place up. I loved the Valentine one with the springy red hearts and dancing cupids.

“Hey,” I said to Sparkle as I came in the door. “How's it going?”

She helped Mrs. Witherspoon into a side room and called over her shoulder, “Take a number, take a magazine and if you can take two aspirin and call me in the morning that would be great.”

“It's morning now.”

Sparkle stopped in the doorway and looked at me, her eyes bloodshot, her clothes wrinkled. “Really? What happened tonight?”

“I ask myself that every time the alarm goes off. Are you okay?”

“You're not. What happened? Never mind, I know it's a bike thing, with you it's always a bike thing and I swear if Doc doesn't get back soon I'm going to row across that lake out there and drag his bony behind back here myself.”

“Where is he?”

“He won't tell me.” Sparkle shrugged and gave me a lopsided grin. “Smart man. He hasn't had a vacation in years, so he's got one coming. I did rent-a-nurse, but she keeps sneaking out for lilac lectures and flirting with one of the dray drivers. You should make us tea.”

“Tea?”

“Yeah, trust me, you really want tea.”

“Sure, I'll make tea.” I headed to the small kitchen area, where Fiona sat at the round wood table munching Oreos. She had on clean clothes that were a little big and the blouse had rhinestones around the collar and down the front. She looked tired, the kind of tired that came from worry with no answers. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Fiona held up an Oreo in salute. “One of the advantages of Sparkle dating my brother, and lucky for me she feeds felons.”

Fiona gave me a second look. “And lucky for you she has an endless supply of Band-Aids and Neosporin. You got to put training wheels on one of those bikes, girlfriend; the summer's just starting and you're not going to make it to August at this rate. So, what did you find out about my turtle bracelet being stolen? Mrs. Witherspoon told Sparkle all about it when she
came in for her vitamin B shot, and I'm guessing you weren't riding around in the fog this morning just for kicks. You were up at the Grand. What's going on?”

I got a mug that had
Classy, Sassy, Mackinac Smarty-assy
scripted in red from the shelf over the sink. I added water and Earl Grey and hit the two on the nuker. “I have no idea where the bracelet is,” I said while watching
Smarty-assy
rotate on the glass tray. “Did you know Sutter's into folding napkins?”

“What's that got to do with anything?”

“I have no idea, but he's scary good at it. Did you know that Peepster had something on Penelope and was blackmailing her? I overheard Penelope talking to somebody in the hall and—”

“You were eavesdropping.”

“Tomayto, tomahto. And Penelope's been through Zo's room twice looking for the missing phone, and I'm thinking she could have left your purple sequined hat behind so you'd get the blame for breaking in.”

“I did break in and if there's dirt to dig up, Peep had the shovel. I wonder if Penelope was at the hotel the night Peep bought the farm? I could have left my bag anywhere in the hotel; I was so upset I can't remember what I did with it. You said Penelope has an accomplice, so one of them could have given Peep the old heave-ho over the railing and the other whacked him with the olive oil from below. Teamwork. I wonder what Peep had on them?”

“That is the sixty-four-dollar question. Penelope's working late and I could go hear Idle Summers singing
at the Cupola Bar and poke around and see what slithers out.” And I could talk to Idle and maybe figure out how she fit into all this mess. Not that I'd tell Fiona that. She thought Idle Summers was a true friend and trusted her to the end of time.

Fiona pried an Oreo apart and licked the filling. “The Cupola? That means heels and a skirt and a lot of makeup for the scratches.”

I retrieved my Earl Grey. “I'll manage, but whatever you do, don't you show up at the Grand. The evidence is building and you need to stay out of sight. It's not just Sutter gunning for you, those mystery groups are everywhere and it'll be a chorus of
There she is
. Sutter will lock you up for sure.” I dunked the tea bag a few times in the hot water to release the flavor. “I'll take this to Sparkle; I think she needs it more than I do.”

Fiona stood and hugged me. “You haven't looked in the mirror, have you?”

I started for the reception area and stopped dead as Madonna followed by the Body Baggers barged through the front door. “Okay,” Madonna bellowed, her face red and jaw set. She had on black slacks and black top to match her black attitude. She had her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and wore enough mascara to make Maybelline proud. “Where is that piece of scum? I want to see him right now, and I want to get him ready to fly today. This whole thing has taken long enough; we're out of here.”

Sparkle poked her head out of examining room 1. “What piece of scum are you looking for?”

“Peephole Perry.”

Sparkle looked beyond Madonna to the Baggers. “And you are . . . ?”

“Trying to solve the mystery of who killed the Peepster, of course.” An older woman in denim capris held up her orange notebook.

Sparkle blinked a few times. “And just when I think things can't get any crazier around here . . .” She peeled off her exam gloves and came over to Madonna, who was standing in the middle of the waiting room. Sparkle tugged Madonna down into a chair and sat beside her. “Honey, Peeps is dead. Getting him through the security line is gonna be a challenge.”

Madonna parked her hands on her hips and scowled. “Not if he's in a coffin. I need to get him back home and drop his lying, thieving carcass in the ground before the lawyers will execute the will. So pack him up and toss in some ice; we're hitting the bricks, baby.”

“It's not that easy,” Sparkle said in an adult-to-cranky-kid voice. “We have a situation; Mr. Peephole met with an untimely demise.”

“And it's the only good thing the jackass ever did in his entire life.”

“The medical examiner needs to release the body, and I'm not the medical examiner.”

Madonna gazed around the room. “Well, where the heck is he?”

“That's a very good question.”

Madonna jumped up. “What kind of town is this?”

“How long you got? It could take a while. Look,
Mackinac is a nice island; find something to do for a few days like horseback ride, hike, take a cooking class or maybe something lilac, lilacs are really in right now. This will all get straightened out soon and you can be on your way.”

Madonna harrumphed and stomped to the door. “I got a singing career to launch here. I got plans, big ones. I need clothes, new ones, fancy ones, and a lot of my money is tied up in Peep's business.” She gave Sparkle a curious look. “Where are Peep's things?”

“It's a murder investigation,” a Body Bagger volunteered. “Nothing on the victim can be released.”

Madonna seethed. “Peep always carried a lot of cash; I want to make sure you all didn't take it. It wasn't murder by money. I want the money now.” She tossed her head and folded her arms. “Or I can just sit here all day and keep you company and chat about Peep. Trust me, I can chat about that man all day long.”

Sparkle jumped up, ran to her desk and pulled out three big see-through sealed baggies—forensics Mackinac style—and dropped them on the desktop. “You cannot touch anything, but here it is.” She read from the list. “Leather belt with rhinestone buckle, stainless flask half full of vodka, key ring with six keys, shoes with three-inch lifts.”

“I don't care about those things.”

“And a wallet with various ID and nine hundred fifty-three dollars in cash.”

Madonna's eyes glistened as she studied the bags,
turning them over. “I want the money now before that grubbing Zo gets her hands on it.”

“Thank God you're nothing like that.” Sparkle pulled on gloves, opened one of the bags, and slid the wad of cash from Peep's wallet. Madonna took it, then stomped to the door and slammed it shut behind her.

The Body Baggers applauded and the denim lady added, “Isn't she fantastic? I think she's going to win best actress for her performance. This mystery week at the Grand is the best time I've had in years. I've never seen acting like this, and I've been to Broadway plays.”

The Baggers scurried out of the clinic and I handed Sparkle the
Smarty-assy
mug. Fiona dropped a handful of Oreos in her palm. “That must be one hell of a will,” Sparkle said around a mouthful of chocolate crumbs.

“She probably inherits the
Inside Scoop
,” Fiona said, gazing at the closed door. “Not that she'd have a clue what to do with the thing. Madonna knew how to spend the money, not how to make it. She had some assets tied up in her name in case Peep got sued, which happened all the time, but that's about it. She's probably going to sell the rag, and she wants her money, the sooner the better.”

Sparkle popped the last Oreo in her mouth and headed toward the room she'd come out of earlier. She said to me, “I'll just be a minute with Mrs. Witherspoon, and then I'll clean off your knees and elbows. When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”

“How about yesterday?”

Sparkle grinned. “That's what they all say.” A half hour later I left the medical center and shoved Nancy Drew—I was beyond pushing—toward Rudy's Rides. My knees hurt, my elbows hurt and now my butt hurt. It hurt a lot thanks to not getting tetanus, whatever that was. I passed the perfectly restored Biddle House, the oldest building on the island, where Melissa Graves dressed in full colonial garb and told fudgies more about fur trading than they ever wanted to know.

My butt buzzed and for a second I thought it was a side effect of the tetanus thing till I heard a
bing
. I eased Sheldon from my back pocket and checked the screen. It was a text from Abigail.
How r wedding plans C U soon.

I didn't really work for Abigail now, just a few freelance gigs in the winter when her ad agency got swamped and I wasn't. No one did ads better than Abigail; no one ran a better agency and got business the way she did, and how she and Rudy could be father and daughter boggled the mind. Getting a text from her still made my insides liquefy and with being the maid of honor, no way was I telling her the wedding was in serious jeopardy.