Wave Good-Bye (34 page)

I CALLED HOKE’S LUMBERYARD’S EMERGENCY NUMBER and took a seat while Marsh talked to crime scene investigators. Of course, they had to take photos and make notes. Larry Hoke showed up in less than fifteen minutes, carrying a big sheet of plywood and a drill. He went back to his truck for a circular saw. Using two chairs in the waiting area as a makeshift sawhorse, he cut the plywood down to size.

As Larry sank screws into the front door, I nearly dozed off in the stylist’s chair. You wouldn’t have thought that possible, but the whole situation, the surge of adrenaline and the let down, was exhausting.

“Grace Ann? I’m done here.” Larry stood over me. “I’ll send along a bill. You’re okay, aren’t you?”

I nodded and thanked him. His timing proved perfect, as the crime scene guys were packing up, too.

“Can I go home?” I asked Marsh.

“Yes, but I still need to talk to you, and take your statement, so I’ll be right behind you.” Noticing my sleepy eyes, he cocked his head. “Better yet, I’ll drive you home. You can get your car tomorrow.”

I nodded. Since I could barely keep my eyes open, that sounded like a good plan.

I remember him scooping me up and carrying me from his car into my place. I remember mumbling, “It’s not locked.”

When I woke up, I was in my own bed. It was ten in the morning, and sunlight streamed through my window. The smell of coffee encouraged me to pad out to the kitchen.

“Morning,” said Marsh.

“Morning.”

“I called your mom. Told her what happened and gave her the key to the salon. I found it in your purse. She told me to tell you she’s got the situation covered. Would you like eggs? Toast? Bacon? I went out and bought a few groceries.”

“Yes, please.” An odd feeling of domestic tranquility came over me. Marsh bustled around, clearly at home on the range.

“You still think Eve did it?” I asked.

“I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.”

“You’re a party pooper.”

“And you, Ms. Terhune, are a danger to yourself and society. What in the blue blazes got into you? I told you to stay put.” A bit of testiness crept into his voice, but he wasn’t really angry.

“How could I sit there and wait for the big boom?
Huh? Come on, Marsh. If that had been you, would you have sat in the parking lot and waited?” I wondered how bad I looked. Yesterday’s makeup had probably gotten smeared all over my face. Fortunately, I use Mally eyeliner and eye shadow. That stuff never drifts.

“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you,” he said with his back to me. Then he craned his neck so he could see over his shoulder while scrambling the eggs. “Couple of things we need to get straight. First of all, my name is John, not Marsh. Second, I am always going to err on the side of keeping you safe. And third, you didn’t even lock your door!”

I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “I was in a hurry, all right?”

“I thought about raking you over the coals for being so reckless, but I bet it wouldn’t do me any good, would it?”

“No good at all. Geez. Don’t I get any kudos for being brave?”

“Foolhardy.”

“Brave.”

He stepped around the counter, picked up a copy of the local news, and tossed it down in front of me. The headline read: “Courageous Local Girl Saves Life.” Underneath it sat a shot of Special Agent Dillon and a photo of me from when we held a party to celebrate Violetta’s twenty-fifth anniversary of being in business. The rest of the article bored me, until I got to the last line: “Officer Hank Parker has been suspended pending an investigation.”

“Woo-hoo! Hank’s tie is in the wringer now. Who’d’a thunk that Qualls would turn on him?”

“I did. I set her up to watch him. Do you know why he arrived right after you did? That sorry SOB put a GPS tracking device on your car.”

“He said I was getting a flat!”

“No, he was tracking you. Stuck the tracker under your car.”

I shook my head. “He almost shot Wynn.”

“And you.” Marsh—I mean John—stepped around the counter and folded me into his arms. “Grace Ann, I’ve never been so worried in my life.”

“I have morning breath.”

“Go brush your teeth. I’d like to kiss you properly before I wring your neck for scaring me out of my wits.”

Chapter Fifty-nine

BEFORE WE LEFT MY APARTMENT, I BLEW THE OLD seed husks out of Sam’s dish. At the bottom were only a few lonely whole seeds. “Sam, I’m so sorry. I’m a loser as a parakeet mother.”

John laughed. “Tell you what. We can swing by the pet shop over by Snippets and grab more seed. I’ll come back and feed him, if you’d like.”

“Perfect!” I said and I stood on my tippy toes to deliver another kiss. Our necking nearly caused me to toss in the towel and spend the day in bed. With company. But John and I both had work to do.

Instead, I showered quickly, dressed in a pair of black jeans, topped that with a black-and-white striped tee shirt
I’d bought at Cracker Barrel, of all places, and put on my makeup. He pronounced me “adorable,” and the blush on my cheeks was more due to passion than to powder.

After John parked the car, we walked hand in hand from the municipal lot to the shop.

“Does this mean we’re going steady?” I giggled.

“Steady as a rock,” he said with a smile. His gorgeous blue eyes were misty with affection and his hand felt comforting and safe as it held mine.

“Hey, Petey,” I said as we walked through the door.

The young manager glanced up from the hamster cage he was cleaning and turned white as a sheet. “Wh-wh-what?”

“I said ‘hey.’ I need more bird seed.”

“S-S-Seed?” Petey glanced around nervously. “Th-th-this way.” And I followed him, staring into the hood of his dark sweatshirt. John leaned against the front counter, pecking out a text message on his cell phone.

“When are you leaving?”

“T-T-Tomorrow. I was going to go today, but our paychecks came in late, and…” He sounded as if he’d run a mile or two.

“You okay?”

“Y-Y-Yeah. Sure.” He tugged at the neckline of his jacket. “This be all?”

“Yes.” At the register, I paid for the seed. Petey didn’t ask me if I wanted a sack. After handing over the receipt, he walked with amazing speed toward the back of the store.

John turned over the engine and put his car in reverse. “Get everything you needed?”

“Uh-huh.” Something nagged at me. Something I couldn’t quite—

“That’s it! Petey did it! That kid! He’s the one who killed Lisa!”

“Explain it to me,” said John, putting his car into park. “I have no idea who that kid is or why you’re convinced he’s involved.”

“The night I went to buy Sam, Petey—he’s the kid we just saw—told me he had a meeting with a client. Snippets has a contract with Fur, Fin, and Feather to maintain the big saltwater aquarium. Petey was paid a bonus for loss prevention, but Lisa had killed all the fish. Don’t you see? She let him into the salon because she was his appointment! They quarreled and she must have climbed onto the step stool to make a point about the fish being dead—” I popped my hand over my mouth. “Petey carried around a sack of glass pebbles! He was playing with them the night I bought Sam. The kind you put in the bottom of a fish bowl. Was Lisa struck in the forehead with something like that?”

“Yes, she was. And he’s tall enough, and we know he wears a hoodie.”

“He told me that he’s leaving town. Said something about going while the getting was good.”

“That’s enough for me. I think I’ll bring him in for questioning,” John said as he picked up his car phone and requested backup from the St. Elizabeth Police Department. “This time, do you think you could stay put? I really don’t want a repeat of last night.”

“On my honor!” I held up three fingers. “I was a Girl Scout, and I wouldn’t lie. Better yet, I’ll walk to work while you handle that.”

John smiled. “I guess a couple of blocks won’t hurt you.”

With a quick kiss, we both climbed out of his car.

The glazier bent over the front door of the salon, fitting the new glass to the hole that Hank created during his faux rescue. “Excuse me,” I said, stepping around him.

The minute I walked in, the whole salon erupted with applause. “What?” I marveled at their response. Suzee Gaylord was on the elevated area with the stylists’ chairs. “Way to go, Grace Ann!”

Everyone hooted and cheered a bit louder. I laughed. “Okay, pizza is on me for lunch.”

My mother spoke to her customer and hurried over to hug me. “Honey, I can’t believe that stupid Hank Parker. He nearly got you killed.”

“Actually, he nearly killed me himself, but that doesn’t matter now. How’s everything going?” I glanced around and saw that we were busy as ever. Corina had the phone under one ear and her hands on the computer typing in reservations.

“Fine. Everyone has been so helpful. Suzee particularly. Mr. Martin has the front door almost finished.”

I nodded.

“Althea and Stella will be in at noon and Rachel is coming after school.” Mom’s grin stretched from ear to ear.

“You sure look happy.” I admit that my mind was on Petey Schultz. I hoped I hadn’t led John on a wild-goose chase. Worse yet, I hoped I hadn’t given Petey a reason to be even more nervous or upset than he clearly was. But it couldn’t be helped. In my heart of hearts, I felt certain that Petey was the killer. I bet when that Band-Aid came off his face, there were scratches underneath.

Mom laughed. “I am. This floor is wonderful to stand on. The customers keep coming. My daughter is fine, after a narrow miss, and a heroine, too. Oh, and your sister called. Owen will be fine. They tested him. He’s evidently not much of a talker.”

“That’s a relief!” I glanced around at the happy hum of activity. Soon every member of the Violetta’s crew would be here, except for Beauty. We’d have to work on that.

*    *    *

TWO DAYS LATER…

“Poor Petey. Growing up like he did, he didn’t know which way to turn. Didn’t have anyone to run to. No one who had his back.” As Mom spoke, her hand slid under the table to find mine and give it a squeeze.

“With Lisa attacking him, all he wanted was to get away,” I said as I squeezed hers back before letting it go.

“I’ve recommended that he get a reduced sentence,” John said. “He had no idea she wasn’t going to crawl out of that tank. You know, there are two kinds of crimes: one where the perpetrator intentionally causes harm, and the other that’s what I call a ‘stupid crime’. When somebody quits thinking. You can guess which category Lisa Butterworth’s death is. In my mind, at least.”

“On a brighter note, the contractor says he can get started on Violetta’s next month,” Mom said. In her pink sweater and gray slacks, she was the picture of good health. Her periwinkle eyes twinkled from behind her glasses.

Walter reached over and patted her arm. A short, plump man with a full goatee and a mustache he waxed into rigid loops, Walter’s interest in Civil War enactments guided his hairstyle and beard choices. Tonight, he wore a gray jacket that reminded me of his Confederate uniform. I was glad he’d left his sword at home. Didn’t seem appropriate for a family outing, especially since Logan and Owen were both fascinated by any sort of weaponry.

“You’re sure you can quit Snippets at any time? They’ll give you all your old clients?” Alice Rose’s brows wrinkled with concern.

“That’s right.” I said. “You can’t believe how grateful Eve is. She’s so happy we’ve cleared her name—”

“And her husband’s,” added John. “After all, it was looking really bad for her.”

I nodded. “Especially because she had scratches on her neck from a cat fight with Lisa.”

“They’d also pulled each other’s hair,” said John. “In fact, there was plenty of circumstantial evidence we could have used to convict Mrs. Goodman.”

Our waitress distributed dessert menus as the busboy at Denny’s started clearing our table. We’d billed this as our “celebration” dinner, because I wanted my sister to meet John, and we all had so much to catch up on.

“That’s right. But tell Alice Rose the news.” I nudged Mom. Beneath the table, John reached over and took my hand. He’s sweet like that.

“To thank us—Grace Ann, really—Eve offered to let us take over her salon. We’d sort of be business partners. We can buy everything from her at her prices. Grace Ann can run Snippets as long as she wants. We get the benefit package that Snippets’ employees enjoy. All that’s necessary is for us to pay rent and utilities.” Mom smiled happily. “It’s the best of both worlds. Her lease is good for a year. That’ll give me plenty of time to get the mold out of my house, and to deal with the historic register people.”

“I don’t think I heard about that,” John said, withdrawing his badge from his inside pocket and handing it to my nephews for them to ooh and aah over.

“Before all this happened, I received a letter from the historic register saying my house had been proposed for inclusion on their list,” Mom said. “Naturally, I have all sorts of questions. Mainly, I’m worried that I might have to undo all the changes I made to the first floor when I turned it into a salon.”

Alice Rose nodded. “I bet that mean old Lisa Butterworth turned in the paperwork.”