Loose Lips (15 page)

She took a drink and shook her head. “Not so
much as my pinkie toe.”

“And Laura and Phoebe both did?”

She considered this for a minute. “Yes, but
I don’t know if it was at the same time. As I said, it was taking
forever for the girl to shut the place down. So about 1 a.m., Laura
decided we should speed things up by dosing her early. She went to
the kiosk by herself then, just walked up and knocked on the back
door, went inside and a few minutes later she came back and we
waited some more. Phoebe didn’t go in until after the lights were
off. Like an hour later.”

So Laura had been inside the kiosk twice. I
wasn’t sure that was important, but at this stage anything could be
important.

Rhonda set her empty glass down on the
grass. “How’d she get Missy to take the pills?”

Looking completely unconcerned, Phyllis
shrugged. “I told you, she has that all American charm.” She
paused, then added, “She also might have cried.”

I felt my brows rise.

“At least it looked like she’d been crying,
but she didn’t seem upset when she came back.”

In my experience, tears worked better on men
than other women, but maybe Laura was just better at it than I
was.

“How long was she there?”

“Twenty minutes or so. Long enough that one
car pulled out of line and left.”

Phyllis looked pleased with this.

I decided it was time for a recap. “Okay, so
you, Kristi, Phoebe and Laura came to the parking lot that night in
your car fully planning on drugging Missy and going through her
files.”

Phyllis nodded as if nothing I had said had
been in the least bit disturbing.

“Laura went over to the kiosk around 1 in
the morning with the pills and came back looking as if she’d been
crying.” That right there didn’t sound good at all now that I’d
said it out loud, but Phyllis continued to look unfazed.

“Then, an hour or so later, Missy turns out
the lights, sending everyone in the line home and Phoebe and Laura
went back to the kiosk, where Phoebe, at least, went inside and
looked through Missy’s files while you and Kristi stood watch in
the parking lot.”

Phyllis beamed. “Yes, see, I couldn’t have
killed that poor girl. I was never even near her.”

But two other
WIL
ers were. This,
however, didn’t seem to bother Phyllis at all.

“How much of this did you tell the police?”
I asked.

Her expression quickly shifted to disdain.
“As if I’d tell that trussed up rooster from Chicago anything.”

Rhonda caught my eye, then edged forward.
“But if you know someone else saw Missy after you did—”

“Like he’d believe me. Besides, I won’t
betray the
WIL
ers. We didn’t do a thing wrong, and I won’t
be part of people thinking that we did.”

Except drug someone and then pilfer through
their personal records.

And that was assuming one of the
WIL
ers hadn’t killed Missy either accidentally or on
purpose.

The set of Phyllis’s jaw had taken on a
particularly determined set, telling me that no more information
would be forthcoming from her, at least for now. But there were
others who knew what had happened that night and at least one of
them had had possession of Phyllis’s pill bottle
and
access to my unlocked Jeep.

Suddenly, I had an uncontrollable craving
for cheese.

I’d left Kiska at Rhonda’s while we
performed our sting on Phyllis. I picked him up and went to find
Laura’s dairy store. Turned out it was snuggled in between a car
wash and a fast food place that specialized in “healthy” choices.
Needless to say, I hadn’t seen the need to visit either in my
recent past.

I left Kiska in the Jeep with the windows
partially down and went inside.

The place was tiny, with fluorescent
lighting that was a little too reminiscent of the vacant jerky
store where
WIL
had held its last meeting. There were also
two full displays of bagged jerky sitting to the right as I
entered.

I had to guess that cheese was not Laura’s
first or only love.

Laura was helping a man in cargo shorts and
hiking sandals pick some cheese out of an open–front cooler. Today
she was wearing a T–shirt that proclaimed: “I love Jesus, but I
drink a little.” I had to wonder if it was targeted at Kristi.

When she saw me, she waved and motioned that
it would be a minute.

I maneuvered to a spot beside the jerky and
stared out the front window at my dog. He was sitting in the
driver’s seat, looking for all the world as if he might at any
moment put it into reverse and pull out.

Which, of course, would never happen,
because he’d seen where I’d gone.

Cheese was one of his top three favorite
things. I didn’t make the list until somewhere way south of
that.

The man left, and Laura greeted me with what
appeared to be a sincere grin. “Gotta love tourists. He bought one
of every Montana cheese that I had.”

Montana had cheese? I’d thought all the
cattle here got eaten.

I wasn’t here to discuss Montana
agriculture, however. “Yes, you do,” I agreed. I followed her to
where a couple of stools sat near the register.

“So, you didn’t get anything on the Cuties,”
she said.

“I kind of wanted to ask if you did.”

She tilted her head in question.

“I talked to Phyllis. She told me about your
visit
with her, Kristi, and Phoebe.”

She blinked and for a minute I thought she
was going to play dumb. Then she sighed. “We didn’t find anything.
At least nothing worth knowing.”

“Was there a lot of cash there?” I asked,
still wondering if robbery could be a motive.

“Cash?” She looked shocked that I would ask.
“I didn’t go into the till.”

Seriously? I held her gaze.

She dropped hers. “Okay, Phoebe looked.
There was some, and assuming someone had dropped off the day’s
earnings at five before the banks close, it was a lot for a coffee
kiosk, but it didn’t really prove anything.”

This pretty much matched my own conclusions.
Still, I made a mental note to prod George or maybe Daniel for
information on what cash was still in the kiosk after Missy’s
death.

“What about Missy?”

“What about her?”

The question was obvious. “Was she alive
when you left?”

Laura’s outrage was obvious too. “Of course
she was. We didn’t kill her. I thought you believed that. I thought
you were on our side.”

“So, you went back into the kiosk too? You
saw her?”

She made a pained face. “I talked to her
outside the kiosk while Phoebe snuck inside. She was fine. She
wasn’t even knocked out. Just groggy. Nothing a cup or two of
coffee wouldn’t have fixed.”

I could see Laura was losing patience with
my questions, but I wasn’t done yet. “So, why drug her at all?”

She sighed, a big annoyed sigh. “I don’t
know. Phyllis suggested it. It sounded like a good idea.”

Great. My partner was back in the suspect
seat.

“How many pills did you give her?”

“I don’t know. Two, maybe three. She let me
into the kiosk because she recognized me from some other times I’d
stopped by.”

Like when I’d seen her banging on the truck
window.

“She didn’t want me to make a scene, so she
let me inside. While she was flipping that light of theirs to
yellow, I dropped the pills into her cup.”

“And then what did you do with the
bottle?”

“The bottle?” Guilt danced across her
face.

I leaned forward, ready to pounce.

“I don’t know. I think I dropped it. Either
then or when Phoebe and I went back. It was late and I was keyed
up.”

I raised an eyebrow.

She made a face. “I might have bought a
coffee when I talked to Missy the first time.”

That hadn’t been why I’d raised my brow, but
still...

“Don’t tell Phoebe,” she added.

“So, you talked to Missy. For how long?”

“Fifteen minutes or so. Not long. We were
worried—” She snapped her mouth shut.

“What?” I asked.

“We weren’t the only ones watching the
kiosk,” she admitted.

“Really?” I didn’t know why she looked so
long faced. Another suspect was good news. “Who?”

She sighed. “I don’t know who it was, but
someone pulled in with their lights off and waited. They were
parked behind the Dumpster. I couldn’t really make out what kind of
car it was.”

A lead that didn’t route its way back to me
or Phyllis.
Finally
.

“We left right after that.”

“You didn’t drive by to get a look?”

She widened her eyes. “Actually, we kept our
lights off and backed away. We didn’t want whoever it was seeing
us. We were just glad he didn’t get out and go to the kiosk while
we were there.”

“So, it was a he?”

She scrunched up her face. “Maybe. I guess I
just assumed. It was late and I figured whoever it was, was there
to give Missy a ride. A boyfriend. It could have been a woman
though.”

Which narrowed things down not at all.

o0o

I had a date with Peter that night.

It started fine enough. He brought beer and
burgers, and I supplied the grill.

Kiska sat politely next to the sizzling
meat, willing it to fly off the grate and into his mouth.

Our conversation was fine enough too, for
the first twenty minutes. Then, when we’d used up everything we had
to say about the weather, Peter’s son and how Peter had heard
strangles, a horse disease of some sort, was going around the
county, we fell into silence.

My news of what I’d learned about Phyllis
and the
WIL
ers and most definitely the extra car at the
kiosk the night Missy was killed was bubbling inside me like a
volcano cake that was about to blow, and I really wanted to know if
he knew too. And I really wanted to know what
else
he
knew.

I glanced at Peter. He gave me his “don’t do
it” look.

I weighed my options. If I told him, and he
didn’t know what I knew, he wouldn’t be able to sit by and nod and
give me sage advice that made me feel better. He’d have to take
note, make some calls, haul me in, haul my friends in, and in
general make life difficult for all of us. I was including Laura
and Phoebe in the friends category, because while I didn’t embrace
their crusade, I had come to like them. And if Peter did already
know what I knew, he wouldn’t share any new tantalizing details.
He’d lecture me about minding my own business, how there was a
murderer on the loose, and how I was already more involved than I
should be, what with having found the body and everything Phyllis
had done.

After a couple more minutes of silence, he
sighed. “Do you know anything Detective Klein should know?”

I twisted my lips some more. Did I? My guess
was Klein would be very interested in knowing about Missy’s early
morning visitors the day she died. My mouth parted.

Peter held up one hand.

“So... I should call Klein?” I asked.

He paused, and his jaw tightened.

I could see the struggle inside him. The
police in him wanted to say yes, but the boyfriend in him was
afraid of what I would say, afraid it would wind up getting me into
more trouble.

That had certainly happened before.

“Or I could call Gregor,” I suggested.

His jaw relaxed, just a little. “As a police
officer, I could never advise you against consulting with your
attorney.”

“And as a boyfriend?”

He walked toward me, not stopping until the
tips of his cowboy boots touched the tips of my sneakers. He
reached down, wrapped his hands around my upper arms and pulled me
to a stand. “Did anyone confess?”

I shook my head.

“Did you find the murder weapon, or
pictures, or any hard evidence that should be turned over?”

I shook my head again. Just hearsay. Sweet
beautiful hearsay.

His lips softened and curved into a smile.
He leaned down and brushed them against mine. “Then, as your
boyfriend, I’d say we need to get these burgers off the grill and
get inside...”

I couldn’t have agreed more... except... the
pills. I knew Laura had given them to Missy. That was a big thing.
Not hard evidence. I hadn’t
seen
her give them to her and
I didn’t have video of it happening or anything. But it was still
big.

My conscience struggled with my libido. He
kissed me and my toes melted, and all thoughts of Caffeine Cuties
started to drift away.

And then, with intense relief, I realized
something.
Murder weapon
. He’d asked if I’d found one.
Which meant Missy hadn’t been poisoned, at least not by Phyllis’
pills. She’d been killed some other way and the weapon was still
out there somewhere, waiting to be found.

His kiss deepened and he pulled me closer
against his form.

Tomorrow.
Waiting to be found
tomorrow
.

o0o

Tomorrow came a lot earlier than I would
have liked. Not just because it meant Peter rolled out of bed while
owls, raccoons, and other nighttime critters were still rollicking
through the forest, but also because it meant I had to make good on
the commitment that I’d made to myself the night before. I had to
find the weapon that had been used to kill Missy.

Having not clue one what that weapon might
even be, I was going to have get creative.

In preparation for that, I told Peter I was
going to be busy the next couple of days going through the Deere
items for my display and hunting down a few non–Deere things to
round things out. At least Darrell had said the rest of the items
would be delivered today.

“Darrell’s helping you?” he asked, looking
less than trusting.

I sat up in the bed, as primly as a girl
could with morning breath and the remnants of a late night snack –
corn chips – clinging to her cheek. “Yes.”