If the Shoe Kills (23 page)

When I got up to the landing, the empty apartment door was wide open. I heard raised voices and the cat still crying. I pushed open the door and saw Becky holding a baby in one arm and a knife pointed at Marie in the other. There was no cat. The sounds Josh and I had been hearing had been from a crying baby. Becky and Ted's baby. The one that, according to Matt, she'd given up in Oregon.

“Get out of here,” Becky yelled at me. “You said I could have the milk.”

Now I knew what she'd been after behind the counter. Milk for the baby. The baby couldn't be older than six months, but it looked so tiny wrapped in a dirty Disney blanket that had seen better days. I glanced at Marie, whose eyes were wide. “I know I did. I just wondered if you needed another hand. Taking care of a baby is hard work.”

Becky's shoulders sagged. “That's why I told Ted we had to get married. A baby needs both parents to care for it.” She jostled the child in her arms, and she cried harder at the motion. “All she does is cry. All the time. It's like she knows her daddy is dead.”

Marie blurted, “You killed him, idiot. Of course he's dead. And the kid's probably better off.”

“Don't say that.” Becky stepped closer to Marie, and now I saw that the blade was actually pressing into Marie's chest. “He would have married me and been a terrific dad, but you kept getting in the way.”

Marie swallowed hard, her voice less challenging now. “What are you talking about? I didn't want Ted. I moved across the country and faked my own death to get away from him. You could have had him with my blessing.”

Tears filled Becky's eyes. “But he still wanted you. I wasn't pretty enough or good enough. I was just like Uncle David, in his eyes. You . . . you were his soul mate.”

“Why don't we go down to the party and talk about this?” I raised my voice, hoping Josh would hear us. “We could have some coffee and you could feed the baby. She sounds hungry.”

Becky narrowed her eyes at me. “So you can tell your boyfriend I killed Ted? I don't know why you haven't already told him. You saw me do it.”

“What are you talking about? I didn't see anyone kill Ted.” I glanced at Marie and saw that Becky had pulled the pressure on the knife back a little. Maybe if I rushed her she'd drop the knife trying to save the baby. And maybe not. I raised my voice even louder. “I found his body.”

Becky shook her head. “I saw you walking down the street all Little Red Riding Hood with your basket of goodies. You looked right at me.”

I thought about that day. Had I seen someone? I'd been so focused on trying to avoid talking to Ted, had I missed seeing Becky running away from the scene? “I didn't see you. And I didn't tell Greg. So why don't you just leave and we'll forget about this entire thing.”

She laughed. “Right. And I don't understand why you're yelling. That guy's down at the party with the rest of the town. You could scream your lungs out and no one would hear you right now.” As if to illustrate her point, Becky tilted her head back and screamed. That was when I saw Marie jerk backward away from the knife and knew, it was now or never.

I bent my head down and aimed for Becky's middle, hoping I didn't hurt the baby. When I hit, I heard her grunt and the baby's cries escalate. They fell backward onto the floor. I followed. “Take the baby,” I screamed at Marie, but I saw her run out the door. Turning my head back to Becky, I saw the glint of humor in her eyes.

“The girl's a runner. Always was, always will be. You've messed with me for the last time. Now you'll pay.” I saw her hand with the knife move toward me, but the only move I had left was to protect the baby. I pushed the child away from me and the knife, then I heard Becky's cry.

Turning back, I saw a boot on her arm, holding back the hand with the knife. Toby's boot. I started breathing hard when I heard Greg's voice.

“Okay, tough guy, want to move so we can secure the scene?”

I scooted to the left and picked up the baby, holding her over my shoulder trying to comfort her. I watched as they pulled Becky up and, handcuffing her, led her out of the empty apartment.

“Do I want to ask why you're here?” Greg put his arm around me as we walked down the stairs.

The baby was starting to settle, but she smelled like she needed a diaper change along with a bath. I sighed. “I thought I heard a stray cat.”

T
he smell of turkey filled the house. I had people sitting on the porch talking, people in the living room chatting, and a few at the dining room table, helping with the last few touches before I'd host my first ever Thanksgiving dinner.

Greg came up behind me. “Let me know when it's time to carve the turkey. Jim and I are out back with Emma.”

“Sure, leave all the heavy lifting to me.” I kissed his cheek. “Sometimes I think you're avoiding me.”

He shook his head. “Not funny. Especially after your run-in with Becky. I swear, Jill, sometimes I just want to lock you up in the house to try to keep you out of harm's way.”

Jackie laughed. “Then harm would just come here. You have to realize our Jilly is a magnet for this kind of stuff by now.”

“Thanks, guys, I appreciate your understanding.” I took a sip of wine and smiled at the group. Amy was arranging olives and pickles into dishes at the table while Justin stood at her side, “helping.” Helping in Justin terms seemed to mean tasting the contents of every jar he opened.

“Since you brought the subject up, what's going to happen to that poor baby?” Amy slapped Justin's hand away from a plate she'd just finished setting up.

Greg leaned against the fridge, a beer in hand. “The last I heard, Regina was taking the kid. She bought a house down the coast.”

“Wait, she's staying in California?” I hadn't seen Regina since Saturday, when she dropped off a check for the children's center. When she'd realized the baby was her granddaughter, she'd taken off for Bakerstown and the hospital.

“I don't like spreading rumors, but since David told me this, I guess it's okay.” Greg smiled. “Regina is divorcing the Boston husband, taking her Johnson money, and she and David are finally going to have that happily-ever-after.”

“Wait, I thought the money was in the Hendricks family?” Jackie frowned. “Terrance never called me back. I'd forgotten about that. But I read that in one of the gossip magazines.”

“Nope. Regina was the trust-fund baby. Apparently she grew tired of his women on the side and decided to give David a chance.” Greg stared out the window. “Did you hear the other gossip that's going around?”

“Spill,” I teased. Greg never gossiped, so I knew it had to be juicy.

“You know that new shop opening up next to City Hall?” He nodded toward the back porch.

“I don't understand. Jim's opening Vintage Duds?” I glanced out at his brother. Not a business I'd expected from the painter brother.

“Not Jim. He's just been hired to do the painting. The new owner wants a family discount.” Greg sighed as dawning understanding filled my face. “Welcome to my nightmare.”

Jackie contemplated the two of us. “I don't understand.”

“I do.” Amy giggled. At that moment, I hated my best friend. “Sherry is the new owner. She's moving back to South Cove.”

 

Dinner was over and the first load of dishes was in the dishwasher when I finally crashed into a chair next to Greg. Jackie had left moments before with Josh, who'd been the shop's surprise Santa. She'd apparently forgiven him when she found out that Becky was the one she'd seen going up the stairs to the apartment level of Josh's building. And, of course, after she'd made him be Santa for the party.

I leaned into his chest and sighed. “Next time I get an idea like this, just shoot me.”

He chuckled and took another bite of pumpkin pie. From my count, it was his third piece. “In my experiences with family dinners, it was a success. No one got hurt, no fires were set, and everyone left feeling the exact same way about everyone else as they did walking in the door.”

“Jackie wants to set up a murder mystery dinner over at the winery with Darla in January. That makes me hate her just a bit more than I did this morning.” I grabbed a fork and took a bite of Greg's pie.

“You love your aunt.” Greg waved his fork around the room. “Besides, this is her element. Party planning.”

I thought about Darla and the winery. It would be a perfect place to have a dinner and a mystery. We could bring in the drama club from the local high school.

“Jill?” Greg's voice broke through my thoughts. “Earth to Jill.”

I blushed. “Busted. I guess I think it's a pretty good idea myself.”

“Want to go watch some football?” He stood and held out a hand. And for the first time in my life, I didn't want to be anywhere else but right there, at home.

Love the Tourist Trap Mysteries?
Be sure to check out
GUIDEBOOK TO MURDER
and
MISSION TO MURDER
available now from eKensington

 

More Tourist Trap novels to come
in 2015!

Guidebook to Murder

When Jill Gardner's elderly friend, Miss Emily, calls in a fit of pique, she already knows the city council is trying to force Emily to sell her dilapidated old house. But Emily's gumption goes for naught when she dies unexpectedly and leaves the house to Jill—along with all of her problems . . .
and
her enemies. Convinced her friend was murdered, Jill is finding the list of suspects longer than the list of repairs needed on the house. But Jill is determined to uncover the culprit—especially if it gets her closer to South Cove's finest, Detective Greg King. Problem is, the killer knows she's on the case—and is determined to close the book on Jill
permanently
. .

Mission to Murder

Jill Gardner, proprietor of Coffee, Books, and More, has discovered that the old stone wall on her property might be a centuries-old mission worthy of being declared a landmark. But Craig Morgan, the obnoxious owner of South Cove's most popular tourist spot, The Castle, makes it his business to contest her claim. When Morgan is found murdered at The Castle shortly after a heated argument with Jill, even her detective boyfriend has to ask her for an alibi. Jill decides she must find the real murderer to clear her name. But when the killer comes for her, she'll need to jump from historic preservation to self-preservation . . .

Lynn Cahoon is a multi-published author. An Idaho native, her stories focus around the depth and experience of small town life and love. Lynn has been published in Chicken Soup anthologies, explored controversial stories for the confessional magazines, short stories in
Women's World
, and contemporary romantic fiction. Currently, she's living in a small historic town on the banks of the Mississippi River, where her imagination tends to wander. She lives with her husband and four fur babies.