I trotted down the trail and stopped when I came to the other end of the building. I peeked around the corner. An empty lot with broken glass, cigarette butts, and tufts of weeds waited for me. To my left, a Dumpster sat about halfway down the back side of the drugstore. I detected a faint scratching noise coming from the other side of the metal container.
A stray cat? A giant rat? Or was the man hiding there? Had he seen me follow him? He could easily be crouched down, waiting to strike when I walked by.
Do I dare check it out? He might know something about Wendy’s death. Heck, he might even have been involved!
I knew seeking out the source of the noise wasn’t the dumbest thing I’d ever done, but I worried that it might end up in the top five. Still, with a rapidly beating heart and quaking legs, I stepped toward the Dumpster . . . and whatever waited on the other side.
5
I trod lightly as I approached the Dumpster, my Vans making the barest of noises on the loose-packed dirt. Rather than walking directly next to the Dumpster, I made a large arc around it. If the man was waiting for me, I wanted a chance to run.
No more than a minute had passed since I’d reached the corner of the building, yet I felt as if I’d been creeping along for an hour. At last, I spotted a foot at the end of the Dumpster. I couldn’t remember what shoes the man had been wearing, but he didn’t strike me as the dirty-sneaker type. I took another step and saw a leg clad in filthy gray sweatpants.
Definitely not my guy.
I let out the breath I’d been holding and stepped forward with more confidence. A man sat on the other side of the Dumpster, his back to the wall, his feet stretched out. Besides the sweats, he wore a long-sleeved Henley, frayed around the neck, and a worn ski parka, with stuffing oozing from a tear. He was eating a fast-food hamburger. The crinkle of the wrapper must have been the noise I heard.
He caught me watching him and raised his free hand. “Afternoon,” he said as he continued chewing.
“Sorry to interrupt your lunch, but did a man run through here a minute ago?”
The man swallowed his bite. “He weren’t running, but I did see some guy in a bright coat head thataway.” He used the hand holding the hamburger to wave toward the next block. The street was empty, but maybe he hadn’t gone far.
“Thanks.” I headed across the lot, sidestepping a broken bottle, and reached the sidewalk. As I looked in both directions, I heard a car start up. A maroon BMW emerged from a side street halfway up the block. The mystery man was at the wheel. He hung a left and started to drive away from where I stood.
Too late, I realized I should be getting his license plate number. I sprinted into the street and managed to spy a
7,
a
B,
and a
Q
before my long-distance vision failed me. Why had he parked all the way back here? There was plenty of parking closer to the festival. Was he hoping to get in and out without being spotted? Then again, he hadn’t exactly run to his car and screeched out of the alley. He may not have realized I was even following him. I could have created this entire chase scenario in my head. It wouldn’t be the first time.
I headed back to the festival, not bothering to hurry my steps. I still had no idea who the man was and had only a partial description of the car. Not my best hour, but at least I had something for the detective.
The crowd still clustered around Wendy’s booth. Next door, Detective Palmer and Kimmie had returned and were talking to Zennia. She nodded in my direction, and Kimmie and Detective Palmer turned and watched me approach.
“Is everything all right?” Zennia asked. “I saw you in the crowd one minute, and then you were gone. With everything that’s happened today, I got worried.”
“I saw that man again—the one who was yelling at Wendy.”
Detective Palmer brushed past Kimmie to stand directly in front of me. “Where is he now?”
“Gone. He parked over on a side street behind the drugstore.”
Detective Palmer’s face tightened. For a second, I thought he might shoot me. “You should have found me.”
I fought my irritation and reminded myself I was talking to a police officer, someone I needed to cooperate with. “I didn’t have time to run to your car, then run back to where the man was. As it is, I lost him, but some guy behind the Dumpster helped me out.” Detective Palmer raised his eyebrows at that, but I didn’t stop to explain. “I did get a look at his car, if that helps. It was a maroon BMW. Looked pretty new.”
“Good job, Dana,” Kimmie said. “You’re almost like a real detective.” She actually sounded sincere with that compliment, but maybe I was tired.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Detective Palmer rolled his eyes.
“Get a look at the plate?” he asked.
“I did.” I puffed up a bit, until I remembered that I hadn’t exactly seen the whole thing. “It started with a seven, then
B
and
Q.
Or maybe that was an
O.
”
The detective pulled out his notebook and wrote down the information, scribbling furiously. “I need to talk to this guy by the Dumpster.”
I pointed toward Prescription for Joy. “Great, he’s right through that little alleyway between the drugstore and Get the Scoop. I’ll go with you.” I looked at Detective Palmer’s face, in particular, his scowl. “Or not. You go ahead.”
He let out a sound that resembled a snort and walked toward the small path between the two stores.
Kimmie clutched my arm. “Can you believe Wendy was murdered? I mean, it must have happened while I was getting lunch. Thank goodness I ran into you. If we hadn’t been talking about how you need to do more with your life, I might have come back a few minutes sooner. I could have been the one lying there instead of Wendy.” She paled a bit at that last statement, and I hoped she didn’t faint on me again. I couldn’t guarantee I’d catch her the second time.
“I’m surprised you’re still here, Kimmie. After the shock you’ve had, and passing out like that, I’d expect you to go home and rest.”
Kimmie shook her head. “Wendy was a good friend. I have to make sure the police do everything they can.”
“Detective Palmer is an excellent officer.”
“That might be, but I want to hang around and see it for myself.”
I glanced back at Wendy’s tent and saw Jason chatting with one of the EMTs. He spotted Kimmie, broke away, and headed over.
He nodded at me, but he held his hand out to her. “Kimmie, isn’t it?”
She ran a hand over her hair flirtatiously and then shook his. “Oh, my, you’re with the paper, right?” She leaned in. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I’m the one who found poor Wendy. She and I were superclose. We’re both successful businesswomen and often discussed strategies while we lunched.”
Wow, way to lay it on thick.
I half expected her to bat her eyelashes.
Jason still hadn’t let go of Kimmie’s hand and now he brought up his other one and laid it on top. “I knew you were the right person to talk to. Your information could be critical to this interview.”
In response to Jason’s blatant buttering, Kimmie simpered. She actually simpered. Zennia watched from the other side of the table.
“It’s wonderful to be recognized for my value. Let me tell you everything that happened.” Kimmie gestured next door. “I stopped at Wendy’s stall to bring her lunch. I’m always doing such things for people. When I saw her lying there, I instantly knew something was wrong.”
The giant gash on Wendy’s neck had probably been a big clue for her.
“I knew I had to stay calm for the sake of the police, so I went and got Dana here for assistance.”
I wasn’t exactly stunned that Kimmie left out the part where she’d fainted. But then, I probably would have, too.
Kimmie fluffed her artificially colored black hair, ran a finger under each eye for any errant mascara streaks, and then looked around. “Is your photographer here?”
Jason glanced back toward the crime scene. “No, but I’m expecting him any minute.”
“I’m surprised he’s not already here, since you were planning to cover the festival anyway,” I said.
“He got some shots this morning during setup, then left.”
Kimmie straightened her jacket collar and smoothed down her leopard-print blouse. “I assume he’ll want to get a picture of me for the article about Wendy. I did find her body after all.”
Jason seemed to struggle with his words, no doubt not wanting to offend his star witness. “I can see where that would be one idea. Usually, we use a shot of the victim, perhaps a professional portrait or a photo treasured by the family.”
Kimmie stopped futzing with her jacket. “You mean my picture won’t be in the paper?”
What was she expecting? Her photo, with a caption that read,
Body finder
?
“Not this time, I’m afraid,” Jason said. “Perhaps in a follow-up article.”
“Well, I must say I’m disappointed.”
Jason held up his hands, as if he sensed she was about to flee and was hoping to stop her. “Let’s not forget your name will still be in the article.”
Kimmie’s shoulders relaxed at the reminder. “Make sure you spell it right. And see if you can slip in that I’m owner of Le Poêlon—not that the restaurant needs it, but a little publicity never hurt.”
“I’ll do my best,” Jason said in a completely unconvincing tone.
Kimmie squinted down the street. “I’m afraid I have to run. I see one of our best customers down there. I should say hi.” She turned to me. “Dana, let’s chat later. Don’t go anywhere.”
With a toss of her head, she strode off down the street. I watched her go, wondering how she remained so steady on such skinny heels. I would have sprained my ankle just trying on those shoes in the store.
“Did she give you anything useful?” I asked.
“Enough to get started.” Jason pulled out his phone. “Two o’clock already? That doesn’t give me much time to write the story before I’m supposed to meet my parents.”
I whipped my head up so fast, my neck made a popping noise. “Your parents? Are they here in Blossom Valley?” I knew his parents lived in Atherton, an upscale small town south of San Francisco, but that’s about all I knew. Jason rarely mentioned them.
“They came up for a few days, unannounced. I’ll have to set up a dinner so you can meet them.” He texted something on his phone, clearly distracted.
“Meet them?” My voice squeaked like the mouse Zennia had rescued from a stray cat last week. I cleared my throat. “I mean, sure, that sounds great.”
Jason gave me a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry, they’ll love you. If anything, they’ll probably pester you about when we’re getting married.”
My brain froze. Married? Before I could unthaw it, grab Jason, and tell him I was too busy to meet his parents after all, he’d slipped back to the crime scene. I glanced at Zennia, who was straightening the cup samples, and hoped she’d missed that last part. Her giant grin told me she’d heard everything.
“Not a word,” I said.
If anyone was going to throw out theories on what the heck Jason meant by his last comment, it was going to be me.
6
Still stuck on the image of me in a wedding dress, I helped Zennia pack up most of her supplies so she could return to the farm and prepare an afternoon snack for the guests. She left the bowl of corn salad and a dozen or so samples on the table.
As she slung a backpack strap over one shoulder, she gestured toward Wendy’s booth. “If those people stand there long enough, they’ll get hungry.”
“I’ll keep the cups at the ready,” I promised. “I’m stuck here all afternoon.”
“Thanks.”
Zennia wasn’t even out of sight before my mind returned to the visit by Jason’s parents. I knew almost nothing about them, and I had to wonder if Jason ever shared information about me with them. What would they think of me? What did they think of Blossom Valley? This rural small town was a far cry from the ritzy digs of Atherton, where a million dollars might buy you a modest three-bedroom house—if it had been gutted in a fire or flooded in a broken-pipe mishap.
Maybe they’d be too busy during their stay to meet me. Maybe they wouldn’t want to see me at all and would pooh-pooh Jason’s suggestion. I could only hope. Though I saw a future with Jason, meeting his parents added a whole new aspect to our relationship—one I wasn’t sure I was ready for yet.
I turned my attention to the crowd. Whenever one person walked off, another immediately took his place. Thank goodness no one was stopping at my booth. I wasn’t sure I could muster a smile after all that had happened.
The crowd shifted as a police officer carrying a camera broke through the group and walked away from Wendy’s booth. As the people settled back into place, a young woman moved close enough that I could have touched the sleeve of her denim jacket, if I’d been so inclined. As she turned slightly toward me, I realized she was the woman who’d tried to stop by a couple of times to talk to Wendy. Why had she come back? Who was this woman?
Without a better way to start a conversation, I grabbed a sample cup. “Excuse me, miss,” I said. “Would you care to try some corn salad?” Maybe it was my hushed tone or my fervent hope that no one else would hear me, but for some reason, I felt like a candidate offering a bribe as a voter stepped up to the booth on Election Day.
She didn’t acknowledge that I’d spoken, so I reached across the table and tapped her back. She visibly flinched and whirled around.
“What do you want?” she demanded. She sounded more scared than annoyed, which only increased my interest.
“Sorry,” I said. I raised the plastic cup. “I thought you could try some of our organic corn salad while you’re standing there.”
She laid a hand on her impossibly flat stomach. “I couldn’t eat a thing after what’s happened.”
I set the cup back on the table. “Did you know Wendy?”
“Not in person. I came today to meet her and tell her how much she’s helped me.”
I moved around the table so I could talk to the woman, without a giant plastic barrier between us. “I’m Dana.”
“Lily, Lily Sharp.”
Up close, I caught a whiff of some type of lotion, maybe sunscreen. She had little, if any, makeup on. I spied a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “What did Wendy do for you?”
“I’ve always been a big believer in taking care of the environment. I recycle, bring my own bags to the store, walk everywhere I can. Then I met Stan.”
“Who’s Stan?” And what did he have to do with Wendy?
“Stan lives back in Delaware. We met in an online chat room about global warming and hit it off right away. After we’d talked online for a few months, I decided it was time for the next step.” She scratched the back of her hand, and I noticed her flawless French manicure. “I flew out to meet him.”
“And he was really a sixty-five-year-old woman with too much time on her hands?” More than one of my friends had been disappointed when they met an online match in person.
She looked momentarily thrown. “What? No. He was exactly as he described himself. Well, maybe a little heavier. And shorter. But we felt an instant deep connection. Now I fly back to see him every few months, whenever I can take time off from my nursing job.”
That was all well and good, but had we moved away from talking about Wendy? “Where does Wendy come in?”
“That’s what her company, Invisible Prints, does. I pay her a set amount of money for all the miles I fly, wasting all that jet fuel and polluting the atmosphere, and she invests that money in renewable energy and land preservation. Wendy made it possible for me to commit to my true love without ruining the environment.”
Was she really balancing out all the fuel emissions she’d generated, or simply throwing money at the problem to appease her guilty conscience? I’d have to wrap my brain around that later.
“So you knew Wendy through her business?” It didn’t sound like she knew Wendy well enough to give me any insight into who killed her after all. Not that I was trying to find suspects. I’d let the police handle it as soon as I passed her name along to Detective Palmer.
Lily pulled a tube of ChapStick out of her pocket and applied a coat. “Only from online. That’s why I’m here today. Invisible Prints sent out an e-mail to its customers to let us know they’d have a booth at the festival, but every time I tried to meet Wendy, she was talking to someone else.” She stared back at the booth next door. Her face was full of sorrow. “Now I’ll never get the chance.”
“Did you happen to hear what any of these people were saying to Wendy?”
Lily put a hand to her chest. “I’m much too polite to eavesdrop.”
I remembered how loudly the guy had been yelling at Wendy. Lily would have had to clap her hands over her ears not to hear something. Had she left as soon as he started talking? Or was she keeping the information to herself? “If you heard anything that could be connected to Wendy’s death, you need to tell the police.”
Lily pulled the jacket collar closed around her throat. “The police?”
The way she was trying to shrink into that jacket at the mention of the cops, I had to wonder if she was on the FBI’s Most Wanted List. Before I could ask her more, I heard a familiar voice behind me.
“Ha, I should have known if someone else got killed around here, you’d be right in the middle of it.”
I turned around to find Ashlee, my younger and far less mature sister, smirking at me. She must be on her lunch break from the veterinary office where she worked.
“I shouldn’t have to remind you that the last time I was in the middle of a murder investigation, it was because you got there first,” I said.
She stuck her tongue out at me, confirming her level of maturity. “I would have been fine on my own. You wanted a reason to get in the middle.”
“Hardly. I was saving your bacon.”
“Whatever.”
“Look, stop pestering me,” I said. “I’m busy talking to Lily. She might know something about Wendy’s death.”
Ashlee popped her gum. “Who’s Lily?”
I gestured to my left. “This nice woman right here.”
“Another one of your imaginary friends?”
I checked behind me and saw that Lily was no longer standing there. In fact, she was nowhere in sight, having walked away while Ashlee and I were squabbling. Well, great.
“She’s gone,” I said to Ashlee. “How’d you hear about the murder already?”
“I was getting a pedicure. The sister of the lady who owns the shop has a booth down here today and said the murder pretty much killed the crowd.”
I winced at her choice of words, but she had a point. While the place hadn’t exactly been packed before Wendy’s death, it had emptied out pretty darn quickly afterward, except for all the gawkers. I looked past Ashlee and saw Kimmie moving toward us.
I couldn’t believe she was still here after finding Wendy’s body, even if she was keeping an eye on the cops. I’d be wrapped in a blanket on my couch with some hot chocolate and a bottle of aspirin if it had been me, but Kimmie was in a class all her own.
She stopped when she reached us and addressed Ashlee. “I almost didn’t recognize you. Did you change your hair?”
Ashlee reached up and stroked a chunk. “A trim. Thought I’d try some bangs.”
“Don’t worry, that’ll grow out in no time.” Ashlee opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but Kimmie didn’t even slow down. “Mind if I borrow Dana here for a minute? I promise to bring her right back.” She grabbed my elbow, and I allowed her to drag me across the street, curious to know why exactly she needed to speak to me with such urgency.
“What’s so important that you couldn’t talk in front of Ashlee?” I asked. “Did you remember something about Wendy’s murder?”
Kimmie shook her head. “No, but I’ve been thinking since we talked a bit ago. I know you’ve somehow managed to solve a couple of murders in the last few months.”
I raised my hand. “Stop right there. Detective Palmer has already warned me to keep my nose out of this. I know you have your doubts, but the police really can handle Wendy’s death. I’d simply be in their way.”
“Nonsense. The department’s so small, they need all the help they can get. Even you.”
I thought back to how I’d already supplied the detective with a partial license plate and description of the man. If Kimmie knew how close she was to the truth, she’d gloat all day. I kept my mouth shut.
Kimmie must have taken my silence as agreement. “The police don’t know Wendy like we do. She needs an advocate to make sure they do everything they can to catch her killer.”
“Her family will keep the police on track.” I knew if I was ever murdered, Mom would pack a bag and move into the police station until they solved the case.
Kimmie took hold of my upper arm. Her fake nails dug into my skin. “That’s just it. Her dad died a few years back and her mom passed away last year. She told me that she and her brother weren’t speaking anymore, so she really has no one.”
“What about her husband?”
“That guy?” Kimmie shook her head. “He can’t be counted on. If anything, I’d put him at the top of the suspect list. I never could figure out what Wendy saw in him.”
Was Kimmie right? Would no one push the police to find her killer? A lump formed in my throat. I’d grown up with her, been good friends with her, and now she was gone, with so few to mourn her. With a no-good husband and an estranged brother, would she even receive a proper burial?
I felt my concern for Wendy’s death replace my resistance at not getting involved. With no one to look out for her, I needed to step up. “I’m not sure how I can help,” I said, although I was already generating a few ideas.
Kimmie gripped my arm tighter. “You’ll figure it out. I have faith in you.”
I knew she was buttering me up like a bowl of popcorn just so I’d help her, but I couldn’t stop myself from nodding. “I should at least contact Wendy’s brother to offer my condolences.” And find out if their rift was worth killing over. “If he says anything interesting, I’ll follow up.”
Kimmie released my arm and clutched her Louis Vuitton bag. “Great, I’ll send you his contact information. I remember Wendy mentioned he lives here in town.” She checked her watch again. “Now I’ve got to get to the restaurant. Send me a status report in a couple of days, and we’ll go from there.” She walked away.
Status report?
Oh, hell no.
There would be no status report. Kimmie was not my boss. This would end now.
And I would have told her that, too, if she hadn’t already reached the parking lot and unlocked her Mercedes. Instead, I watched her zoom out of the lot, tires screeching, and marveled at the situation I’d gotten myself into.