Throw in the Trowel (16 page)

“Because you are secure in your manhood, yes?” Parthenia asked.

“Sure,” Marco said.

She moved up to Seedy and held out the treat she had offered before. “I will say no more.”

“Are you saying Henry wasn't secure in his manhood?” I asked.

She waved me away. “No more!”

As I tried to ferret out her meaning, Seedy sniffed her palm, ate the treat, and wagged her tail for more.

“You,” Parthenia said to Marco, as she gave Seedy another treat, “have behaved like a gentleman. Perhaps I was mistaken about you. I am mistrustful when it comes to men.”

“Thank you for letting my wife interview you,” Marco said.

The Duchess gave him a regal nod. “And you,” she said, turning to point at me, “will bring this raggedy dog back Monday at noon. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” I said.
“Efharistó.”
Thank you
was another Greek word I had learned.

She went to her drafting table and sat down.
“Yia sas,”
she called over her shoulder. Good-bye. She was done.

“She was quite a character,” Marco said as we headed back to Bloomers.

“I liked Parthenia, though. She has spirit. It takes a lot to make a fresh start and then really do something with your life.”

“The question is,” Marco said, “did she do something with Kermit's life?”

“I don't know. She seemed genuinely surprised to hear about the possibility of Kermit being buried in the basement. Did you understand what she meant about Henry not being secure in his manhood? Was she hinting that he might be gay?”

“That's how I read it.”

“So if Kermit was constantly drunk on the job and not getting the work done, and the business was suffering, and Kermit was being abusive, would him calling Henry a girl be enough to make Henry snap?”

“I could pose almost the same scenario with Doug and ask, would catching Kermit with Parthenia be enough to make Doug snap? And here's another one. Would Kermit not showing up at the assigned time be enough to make Parthenia go looking for him with murder on her mind?”

“Of the three suspects, I could see her situation being the most unstable,” I said. “What if Kermit didn't show up, and she went to the bar to find him? Maybe he told her he wasn't leaving and she grabbed something close at hand and hit him with it.”

Marco pulled the notepad out of his shirt pocket and handed it to me. “Take a look at my notes and see if I got everything.”

I flipped it open and found the page where Marco had scribbled, literally, his notes. “What does this first one say? ‘Diclnt recog K C'? Oh wait. That's
didn't
. She didn't recognize Kansas City?”

“The key chain. Are you making fun of my handwriting?”

“Of course I am. Okay, on the second line, I can make out that Parthenia verified Doug's statement that it was her idea to leave town but denied that she was pungent—make that pregnant. I can't tell what it says after that.”

Marco waited until he was at a stop sign, then looked it over. “It says I need to find out where the artists' colony was so I can check hospital records to see if there's any indication of her giving birth.”

I read over the rest silently. “I wonder why she was afraid to come right out and say that Henry was gay.”

“Maybe she doesn't know. And remember, this is only her version of things. If she's our murderer, then she has to point a finger at someone. In this case, she pointed at two someones.”

I closed the notebook and handed it back. “What's our next step?”

“Talk to Tara. Then tomorrow morning I'll see what I can dig up on those birth records. After that, we'll visit Rusty at his saddle shop. He has some explaining to do.”

CH
APTER FIFTEEN

A
t three o'clock, Marco and I were parked in the loading zone in front of the huge, sprawling one-story structure that served as both a middle school and high school, waiting for Tara to appear. Five minutes earlier, I'd gotten a text from her in reply to my earlier one. It had said:
Why?

It's a surprise,
I'd texted back.

Fine
was her answer, followed by a frowning face. She probably figured she'd be in for a lecture.

“You weren't serious about ice cream, were you?” Tara asked as she climbed into the backseat of the Prius. “
Yogurt
, Aunt Abby.
Frozen yogurt
is cool. Ice cream isn't.”

“Hey, Tara,” Marco said, reaching out a hand so my niece could slap his palm. “Where are we going for this cool frozen yogurt?”

“To Yog-earth,” she said, as we pulled out of the school parking lot.

“Is Yog-earth by the shopping mall?” Marco asked.

“That's the one.”

Through my side-view mirror, I saw Tara pull out a tube of lipstick and apply it with the aid of a small mirror from her purse. I shot Marco a disgruntled look and pointed to my lips so he got the message. Tara had always shunned lipstick, or makeup of any sort, for that matter.

“So Auntie A,” Tara said. “You're not angry with me about, you know,
yesterday
, are you?”

Be cool, Abby.
“We just wanted to hang out with our favorite niece for a while and catch up on what's new.”

“Awesome. That's what I told Haydn because he was like, ‘Oh, man, you are so in for it if you go,' and I'm like, ‘No, way. My auntie A is way too cool.' He didn't believe me, so I told him to meet us there so he could see for himself.”

“Haydn's going to be there?” I asked, swiveling to glare at her.

“Uh-huh.” She didn't see me. She was checking her phone messages.

It was Marco's turn for the disgruntled look. He pulled into a driveway, turned the car around, and headed in the opposite direction.

“Hey!” Tara called. “Where are we going?”

“To the ice-cream parlor,” he said.

•   •   •

Tara slouched onto the blue bench opposite us in the booth at the iScream Ice Cream parlor and crossed her arms, refusing to look at either one of us. “This is so uncool,” she muttered, scowling.

“Tara,” Marco said, leaning forward, trying to catch her eye, “do you know why we're here?”

She shrugged.

“Tell me why,” he said.

“Because I'm seeing Haydn.”

“Because you're sneaking out to see Haydn,” I corrected, “and you know your parents wouldn't approve.”

She shrugged again, twisting the white paper cover from a straw into a knot.

“Let me tell you about a boy named Dennis,” I said.

Tara heaved a very long, very bored sigh. “Do you have to?”

“I'll go get our ice cream.” Marco rose and reached for his wallet. “What flavor do you ladies want?”

“I'll have double dark chocolate,” I said, “in a sugar cone.”

Tara scowled at her fingernails. “I
hate
ice cream.”

“Chocolate for Tara,” I told Marco.

“Wait!” she cried, and when he stopped, she said, “Strawberry. With fudge on top. In a cup.” Then she sank against the seat and glared at me.

Not a great way to start.

As soon as Marco was out of earshot, Tara said, “You tricked me!”

“You tricked me first. We invited
you
, not Haydn. You had no business telling him to meet us there, knowing how I feel about your seeing him.”

“See! You
are
angry!” she cried, pointing at me.

“Damned right,” I said, making her gasp. “You know what would happen if your parents found out about yesterday afternoon?”

She sat up, her eyes wide. “You won't tell them, will you? Promise me you won't tell them!
Pleeeeeee-ase?
”

“Promise me you won't sneak out to see Haydn anymore. And I'm talking about the cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die promise.”

“But he's so amazing!” she whined, flopping against the seat back. “Why are you being so mean?”

“Tara, give me your hands.”

At her wary look, I said, “Just give them to me. I'm not going to spit on them.”

“We'll look creepy if we hold hands.”

“Okay, then look right here in my eyes. What do you see?”

“Green eyes.”

“Who else has green eyes? And red hair? And freckles?”

“I know where you're going with this, and I'm not playing.”

“Tara, you're like me in more than just looks. I snuck out with a boy, too, when I was your age, and I'm really lucky I didn't get into trouble. You know what stopped me? My dad being a cop. Yep, your grandpa warned me that he had his buddies keeping their eyes on me. So every time I saw a cop car, I knew I'd better be behaving. I didn't like it—no, make that I
hated
it—but it kept me out of trouble.”

“All I did was ride in Haydn's car. What's so wrong with that?”

“Today you're taking a ride with him. Tomorrow you'll go see his frog collection in his bedroom.”

She made a face, half annoyed, half amused. “He doesn't have a frog collection.”

“Okay, then any kind of collection. You're like my little sister, Tara. I don't want to rat you out to your parents, but if anything bad happens to you because of Haydn, I'll blame myself for not telling them what you were doing.”

“You don't have to get all emotional on me, Aunt Abby. Nothing's going to happen. I'm way too smart for that.”

She wasn't getting it. I telegraphed that message to Marco as he handed out the ice cream. He gave me a subtle nod to let me know he was on top of it.

Tara picked up a plastic spoon and stabbed it into the cup, making a big show of how much she disdained the dessert. But she started eating it anyway.

“Have you told her yet?” Marco asked me in a low voice.

“Not yet.”

Tara looked up suspiciously. “Told me about what?”

We both turned to study her; then I said to Marco, “I don't think she's ready.”

“Yes, I am,” Tara said, sitting upright.

Marco and I looked at each other; then Marco shrugged. “I think it's time to tell her, but it's your call.”

I studied Tara for a moment longer, making her squirm with curiosity. Finally I said, “If I trust you with this, will you swear to keep it a secret? I mean swear right here in front of us?”

Tara's gaze narrowed. “This is a trick to get me to stop seeing Haydn, isn't it?”

“I wish it was a trick, Tara,” Marco said. “But this is real and it's risky.”

Her eyes wide now, she nodded mutely.

“We're investigating a murder,” I told her quietly.

“I knew that,” Tara said with a glare in my direction.

“You don't know everything,” Marco said. “Our investigation took a dangerous turn two days ago. I can't tell you any more than that at this point, but what I can tell you is that until we give you the all clear, you need to stay away from Haydn.”

She sat back with a grin. “I knew it was a trick!”

“Tara, look at me,” Marco said, then waited until she did. “Does it look like I'm in the mood to play tricks on you?”

“No.”

“Have you forgotten about being kidnapped last winter?” he asked. “Do you remember that Abby was the target, but because you two look so much alike, the killers got you instead?”

“Yes.” She shuddered. “But I don't see how Haydn could be dangerous, other than, you know, the sex thing, which, for the record, I am totally not going to do. He isn't going to kidnap me or anything.” She suddenly looked worried. “Is he? Did you hear something?”

“You have to trust us, Tara,” I said, reaching for her hands. That time, she gave them to me. “We can't tell you if Haydn is connected to this case until we investigate more, so to keep you safe, we need to insist you stay away from him. We don't want anything to happen to you. Will you promise?”

“I can't stay away from him at school. What if I see him in the hallway?”

“You know what I mean,” I said.

“What if I say no?”

“Then I'll tell your parents what you were up to yesterday and you'll get grounded for two months,” I said.

She pulled her hands back and resumed eating with a scowl. When she had finished, she said, “Okay, fine. I promise.”

“Great!” I said.

“But,” she said, “only if I can help you investigate him.”

“No,” Marco said. “Absolutely not. We're trying to keep you out of harm's way, not put you into it.”

She pointed at me accusingly. “
You
said you wouldn't know if Haydn was involved until you investigated more. Well, who would be better able to investigate him than me?”

She had a point. Marco, however, wasn't buying it. “I can't allow it.”

Tara studied him, a stubborn gleam in her eyes that I knew all too well. “Fine. But you have to promise to keep me in the loop.”

“As soon as it's safe for you to know more, we'll gladly do that,” Marco said.

“Awesome.”

That had been way too easy. If I knew my niece, she would not be able to keep her nose out of it. I also knew not to tell Marco that. There wasn't anything he could do anyway, and he'd only worry. I'd have to keep tabs on Tara myself.

She pulled out her cell phone. “Now what do I tell Haydn? He's probably still waiting at Yog-earth.”

“How about telling him that your parents found out and grounded you?” Marco asked.

“How geeky would that look? I'll blame it on you instead, Aunt Abby.”

“Whatever it takes,” I said.

She texted something, then sat back with a snicker. “You horked all over the passenger seat of the car, so we're taking you home. You might be pregnant.”

I slipped on my jacket and got ready to leave. “Like I said, whatever it takes.”

Tara glanced at me suspiciously. “You're not, are you?”

“No,” I said, and smiled at Marco. “That's a long way off.”

He put his arms around both of us. “Yes, it is. I'm still getting used to having one other person in the apartment. And a dog.”

“Good,” Tara said. “One pregnant aunt is all I can handle.”

“Speaking of pregnant aunts,” I said, “Jillian asked me to watch Princess tonight.”

Tara covered her mouth to hide her laugh. “At least you're not babysitting a sack of rotten potatoes.”

“So,” I said, “how much would it take for you to watch Princess tonight instead?”

“More than you can afford to pay,” she replied.

•   •   •

At seven o'clock that evening, I returned to my former apartment building with Seedy in tow and a tension headache looming. I knocked on the door to Jillian's posh three-bedroom apartment on the second floor, and Princess immediately began to bark. Seedy looked up at me as if to say,
Seriously?
then did an about-face and started back toward the elevator.

I swept her up and carried her back just as my cousin swung open the door. As usual, she looked like a fashion plate, wearing a chic little black dress with black opals dangling from her earlobes, her copper hair swept up in a gorgeous chignon, yet she also looked more frazzled than I'd ever seen her, as if she hadn't slept in days.

“Princess, stop it,” she cooed over her shoulder, stepping back to let us in.

Princess ran up to sniff my ankles, but Seedy growled at her, so she backed away, turned around, and trotted into the living room.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “You look exhausted.”

She gave me a weary smile. “You know how little ones get days and nights mixed up.”

“Newborn babies do that, Jillian, not dogs.”

As though she hadn't heard, she said, “I fed Princess earlier, and Claymore just walked her, so she should be set until we get home.” She gave me a hug, then said, “Oh, Johann may need more aspirin when he wakes up. Let's go, Claymore.”

Fastidious Claymore was the younger brother of Pryce Osborne II, the heel who had dumped me two months before we were to be married because I'd been kicked out of law school. At the time, I thought my life was over, yet if neither of those things had happened, I wouldn't have met Marco or bought a flower shop. Dog-sitting might have been the highlight of my day.

Like Pryce, Claymore was exceedingly well groomed and wore only tailor-made suits. Unlike Pryce, Claymore was very kindhearted and coddled Jillian to the extreme. Now he came into the kitchen with Jillian's black pashmina over his arm. “You might need this, darling.”

“Who's Johann?” I asked, as he draped the shawl across her bare shoulders.