Shopping is Murder (McKinley Mysteries Book 6) (3 page)

A Blast To The Past

THE MALL THAT HAD BEEN bustling with life now resembled a ghost town. For what was typically one of the most lucrative days of the year, it would leave some businesses hurting.

Store managers stood by their display windows and gave eager glances to Sara and Sean as they walked past, but shopping was the furthest thing from Sara
’s mind. She wondered if Nicole was still below but figured, at this point, she had likely been carted off, offered a warm beverage, and extended the courtesy of contacting loved ones.

As suspected, the mezzanine revealed nothing more than crime scene techs and the medical examiner taking care of the situation. As the phrase occurred to her, she realized that was one large aspect of the job she didn
’t miss. She hated how people were categorized into a bag of parts, their history tallied and scrutinized—and this specific case should call for a lot of scrutiny.

There were many possibilities that could have led to this man’s death—an accidental shove, potential suicide, or an intentional push, which would mean murder. She recalled what the man in the room had said about the victim’s last words.

If we shop much longer, I’ll jump.

Taking the statement at straight value it would lean toward suicide, but on deeper consideration, surely, there must be something more substantial involved. Shopping, even for hours on end, couldn’t drive someone to jump over a railing in the mall—could it?

As for his personal life, Sara could only surmise at this point. Even though she hadn
’t been a part of Nicole’s adult life, she knew that her friend had married into wealth.

Still, with the history between her and Nicole buried in thick mire at this point, Sara chose to remember the good times with her friend. She knew now, better than ever, that money possesses the ability to change people, to alter their character, to realign their priorities—and who was she to stand in judgment? In fact, that quality didn
’t even exist within her. Her inability to condone or condemn may have weakened some people’s opinions of her, but she considered it one of her strengths.

She hadn
’t been around for Nicole’s wedding, despite having dreamed of being there since they’d first bonded in kindergarten playing house. Sara went off to college, while Nicole followed her family’s beliefs, which grounded her with antiquated philosophies about marriage and children being the keys to happiness.

An arm slipped around Sara’s waist, the touch pulling her from her thoughts. Sean stood tight to her side but didn
’t say anything. He didn’t need to—his contact with her communicated everything.

She noticed small clusters of mall security chatting it up, and police had secured the scene, which included taping off the nearby escalator.

“I think we missed her. Do you know where she lives?”

She
faced her husband, thankful for his support, questioning what she would ever do without him.
“I believe she lives in New York.”

“New York?”

“Yeah.”

“We could get her information.” Sean pulled out his smartphone, but Sara put her hand on his.

“She wouldn’t be going there right now. It’s too far a drive. I know where she might be, but we’re going to have to use discretion.”

“And why do I sense that you don’t care for option two?”

“Because you’d be right. Nicole’s mother never liked me.”

“How is that even possible?”

“While I appreciate the flattery, this woman found a way.” She could still hear the derision in Shelley Townsend’s voice when Sara had told her she wouldn’t be attending her daughter’s wedding.

“So you think Nicole’s gone to her parents? I assume they still live in town?”

“Yep.” That was one thing Sara knew to be fact. When she and Sean were in Tuscany, her mom, Jeannie, had mentioned over Skype that she had bumped into Shelley. She’d said that Nicole’s money had transformed the woman into a larger nightmare than she’d been before. It took seconds for her mother to convince Mrs. Townsend to lower her nose in acknowledgement.

Sara swallowed hard and tried to shake the path her beliefs wanted to follow. She was fabricating a future event that was based on nothing more than speculation. She could see it clearly though. She pictured them ringing the front bell, and Nicole’s mother answering, telling Sara
how nice it was of her to show up
now
—sarcastically, of course—with the innuendo hinting toward the fact that Sara was nowhere around when Nicole had gotten married. In the Townsend’s world that was tantamount to treason.

A Little Deception

SEAN WATCHED SARA, HER EYES glazed over and her mind deep in thought. Her focus was on the scene below.

“Do you think he jumped?” he asked.

She slowly pried her gaze from the investigators.
“I was just considering that possibility, and no, I don’t. Not that there’s anything there except for a gut feeling. It’s not like I knew the man.”

“One thing I’ve learned about you, though, is your instinct is normally right.”

“Normally?” She passed him a sly smile that had him wanting to swoop in and kiss her lips, but the timing wasn’t right.

He caressed her cheek instead.
“Most of the time.” He smirked when she narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Better. Not perfect, but better.” Her attention was drawn back to the mezzanine.

Sean let her be and turned to see Magnum, the man with the Tom Selleck mustache, and his wife wandering by. He didn
’t know why he had the urge, but he had a feeling he and Sara would end up getting involved with this victim’s death somehow. Whether or not he relished doing it so soon after returning home, Sara’s eyes concreted the fact that, if her childhood friend needed her, she’d leap in without thought. And—not
if
that happened but
when
it did—this man might prove to be valuable.

He walked over and tapped the man
’s arm. “Excuse me.” Sean caught Sara in his peripheral vision as she spun to face them.

The man stopped walking and glared at Sean’s hand, then leveled eyes with him. “Can I help you?”

The energy coming through
communicated it all—he wanted out of this mall as fast as humanly possible—maybe even faster.

“I heard you talking to one of the other officers and I wanted to ask you about—”

“You a cop? I don’t think so. I remember seeing you in the room being questioned too. Besides, you’re not in uniform.”

Sean received the message in Sara’s eyes, but he
was fully aware of what he was getting himself into. He debated not continuing, but did anyway. “Detectives don’t wear a uniform.” Again, not a lie.

The man laced his arms. His wife tapped her foot and put one hand to her hip.

“I couldn’t help but overhear that you caught the victim’s last words.” Sean stretched the truth a bit since he didn’t know at what point the man had heard the victim say he’d jump if he had to go into one more store. Sean was laying the bait and hoping the man would bite.

“I never said it happened
just
before. It’s not like I saw him jump.”

Sean remained quiet, studying the man
’s eyes. In this case, waiting things out might pay a higher dividend.

Magnum uncrossed his arms and adjusted one of the bags he had over a shoulder.
“I saw him a bit earlier when Bev was in a store. I needed a breather and came out here, you know, just to watch everyone else running around. He and I exchanged a few words and that’s when he said it.”

“But you didn’t sense he’d act on it?”

“Heavens no. I was at the same point then.” He paused a second and his brow knitted. “You don’t think he jumped.” He nudged his wife’s elbow. “They think he was murdered.”

“It’s too early to conclude anything. Would we be able to get your name and number?”

The man
’s eyes turned skeptical. “You’re not a cop. Are you with the newspaper? Come on, Bev, let’s get out of here. I have a drink with my name on it.”

With the couple out of earshot, Sean sensed it coming. Sara
’s gaze was on his profile, but he wasn’t going to let her say what she was thinking…or, at least, he’d try to delay it.

“If we need to talk to the guy, we’ll ask Jimmy. It was Carr who took Magnum’s statement.”

“Magnum?” Sara laughed, the sound of it pleasing his soul.

“Like the TV show,
Magnum, P.I
. You know because of his—”

“His mustache? Yes. I know. There’s also something else I know, something that someone so kindly pointed out to me not too long ago.”

Here it comes
…

“Darling, you do realize that it’s a federal offense to impersonate an officer of the law.”

He fought the smile from giving birth.
“Sometimes exceptions need to be made.”

“In for a dime, in for a dollar. Isn’t that how the saying goes?”

“Close, sweetheart, but it’s in for a penny, in for a pound. To think someone with your memory would mess that up.”

“I only remember the important things.”

“Let’s get over to the Nicole’s mother’s house then.”

“Ah, see, darling, this is where my memory serves us. Our packages? It might be good to pick them up first.”

“As I’m always saying, beautiful and smart.”

Reunited

SARA WATCHED SEAN
’S PROFILE AS he turned into the drive for the Townsend’s estate. With their daughter’s marriage into money they’d been taken along on the financial gravy train. Nicole’s mother, Shelley, had adapted easily to the transition.

It didn
’t take long for the Chevy to be replaced with a Lexus and a BMW, and the modest bungalow to be replaced with a colonial mansion. Shelley’s hairstyle went from nondescript to sculpted, as her wardrobe went from dated to trendy.

Nicole
’s husband, Jerrod Hill, had been a top lawyer in his field when they had married. Sara was certain he wouldn’t have settled for junior partner but would have worked his way up to senior or managing partner by now.

“If she’s not here, darling, I’m not sure what more we can do.” Sean placed his hand on the one Sara had resting in her lap. “I’m sure we can take a trip to New York, or at least catch up with her at the funeral.”

Sara shook her head. It wasn
’t an option to wait that long. There was a deep part of her that felt she owed Nicole more than that.

The long driveway was stone brick, and as they approached the house, there were the upgraded sedans along with a charcoal Bentley Continental GT. Its vanity license plate read
Ginger
.

“She’s here.”

He pointed to the luxury car.
“How do you get Ginger from Nicole?”

The memory sent warmth gushing through her and made her smile.

“Oh, this is going to be a good one.”

“It is.” Sara chewed on her bottom lip, excitement bubbling from deep within. She angled her position toward Sean and continued to hold his hand in her lap. “Not that you’d have reason to remember this, but in public school, girls used to play skip rope.”

“Of course I remember.” The light in his eyes revealed he had his own memories attached to the playground pastime.

“Blonde or brunette?”

“Brunette.”

“We used to sing all sorts of songs, but one was ‘
Calling In/Calling Out.’ It goes like this:
Calling in, calling out, Ginger runs in when I run out.” She sang the words to the tune and both she and Sean were laughing.

“And she chose Ginger because…”

“
Gilligan’s Island
, of course. The character was beautiful and sexy, a woman of fame and fortune.”

“I guess little Nicole lived up to her nickname.”

“I’m telling you, she envisioned wealth for herself and she attracted it.”

There were a few seconds of silence before he asked,
“Are you ready to do this?”

She nodded.
Hopefully she wouldn’t hold the past, or any preconceived notion that Sara had abandoned her, against her. She had a feeling it would be Mrs. Townsend, more than Nicole, who would have an issue.

Sara led the way up the front walk. She found her footing compromised by nerves, even though the stilettos had become a natural extension of her legs in the last seven months. She pressed the doorbell, and the ditty had just chimed a few bars when the door opened.

Shelley Townsend was, indeed, a remade woman. She had cheated aging and appeared to have shaved off twenty years. Her waist had downsized to half her former girth, placing her on the verge of anorexia. Her hair was a dark brown and her makeup was applied modestly. “My, my, would you look here.”

“Mrs. Townsend—”

“So, you do remember us? I would have thought you had forgotten all about us.” She let her gaze wonder from Sara, over to Sean, back to Sara. “How nice to see you.”

Sara didn
’t miss the underlying point—the true meaning was just as Sara had imagined it. Shelley Townsend hadn’t forgiven her for not being present at Nicole’s wedding. Sara chose to take the comment at face value. “Nice to see you too. Would I be able to talk with Nicole?”

“She is here, but this really isn’t a good time.” Mrs. Townsend made a dramatic scene of dabbing a tissue to the corner of her eyes.

“Actually, that’s why we’re here.”

“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea.” Mrs. Townsend’s hand fell to the doorknob, gripping it. “She hasn’t seen you in a long—”

“Mom, who is—” Nicole came into the entry, her steps stalling when she saw Sara. Her gaze drifted for a second to Sean. “Sara? What are—”

Sara brushed past the mother and wrapped her arms around her childhood friend. She squeezed her, and Nicole gave back equally. Any conceived misgivings melted away.

Nicole pulled back first, palming her cheeks to clear the falling tears. Sara had her own, but pressed her fingers to stop the flow. It didn
’t work.

“Excuse me,” Sean said.

Sara saw him move past Shelley and didn
’t miss the disgust in the older woman’s eyes. It was possible Sara had committed the unforgivable by not being at Nicole’s wedding.

Sean pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to Sara.

“Thank you, darling.”

Nicole pressed a strand of hair, which had escaped her ponytail, behind her left ear.
“I take it this is your husband.”

“Sean.” He held out his hand.

Nicole, who was seemingly uncomfortable to make contact with her tear-stained palms, wiped them together and lowered her arms. “Please, come in.”

Mrs. Townsend let out a long breath, accompanied by a low moan, and shut the door.