Killer Shots Murder Mysteries - Books 1-3 Page 32

  I was fuming. “Can you believe that guy? Forget this ever happened?”

  Jake wrapped his arms around me. “Don’t worry. If the sheriff’s office won’t investigate, we will. Let’s go to my house and look at the video. Maybe we’ll find something.”

  “You’re coming with us,” I told Cricket, who seemed to understand and led the way out the door.

  Walking down the street, I grabbed Jake’s hand. “I can’t believe you repositioned the surveillance camera just for me. That was so sweet.”

  “I didn’t want you to think I was a stalker. Do you want me to put it back the way it was?”

  I thought about it. Did I really want Jake to be able to see me come and go from my house? It’s not like I had anything to hide, of course, but what if I stepped outside to get the mail in my jammies? “How much detail can you see five houses down to mine?”

  “Not much really.”

  “Okay. For now, go ahead and set it back to see my house, too.” The more I thought about it, the more I liked having someone to watch over me. I’d just have to remember not to sneak out to the yard in my tattered sweats.

  While Jake pulled up the video on the monitor, I told him about my conversation with the Boswells’ neighbor. We agreed that whoever was with Artie must have left the house in his car and parked it in front of Artie’s place.

  “Here it is,” he said, motioning to the monitor. He fast-forwarded the video, pausing at the occasional car, sheriff’s office cruiser, and delivery truck that drove by. Nothing seemed unusual. The only pedestrian we spotted was Lana Meeks pushing her daughter down the street in a stroller.

  When we finished looking at the video, I puffed out my bottom lip in disappointment. “Too bad that sheriff’s car didn’t drive by while my house was being burglarized, or vandalized, or whatever. Looks like another dead end.” It was getting dark out and I was hungry. “Will you walk me home?”

  Jake stood up and stretched. “Are you sure you’ll be okay at the house alone tonight? I could sleep on the couch if it would make you feel better.”

  As much as the idea of Jake sleeping at my house was tempting, I didn’t want him to think I couldn’t take care of myself. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I have Cricket to keep me company.”

  We headed out the door into the cold evening air, Cricket running ahead of us as usual.

  Jake draped his arm across my shoulder. “I can’t believe that cat went all the way downtown today. I guess she was trying to tell you about the break-in.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks. This was the first time I’d heard Jake imply Cricket might have a sixth sense. I’d never told him about my visit to Sister Sophia. “Are you saying Cricket was trying to communicate with me?”

  “It seems so. Why else would she have done something so out of the ordinary? Animals have much more connection to humans than we give them credit for.”

  I nodded my head and started walking again. Maybe I wasn’t crazy after all. Still, I wasn’t ready to tell Jake my suspicions of the connection between Cricket and Gran. I didn’t want to scare him off in case he thought it was too wacko.

  “Don’t forget about tomorrow night,” I said, standing on the front porch, staring into the dark-brown ocean of his eyes. “I hope your mother likes me.”

  “I’m sure she will. Do you need me to cover that broken window for you?”

  “No, I can do it. I’ve got an industrial-sized roll of duct tape. What more does a girl need?”

  Cricket cried out for me to open the door. I unlocked it and turned on the porch light. “Thanks for your help today.”

  “Anytime. Call me tomorrow if there are any new developments.” He leaned down and pressed his soft lips against mine.

  As I closed the door behind me, a cold chill ran through my bones, and not just from the broken window. I wasn’t as brave as I had let on. Grabbing the fireplace poker, I tiptoed through the house, turning on every single light as I went. The mess in the office made me shiver again.

  This was going to be a long, cold night.

  Chapter 10

  I was determined not to get derailed today on my goal to go to the gym. Cricket scowled at me the way only a cat can when I explained she’d be stuck inside today. “Don’t worry, I’ll be home early to get ready for my date with Jake.”

  The sound of Jake’s name seemed to perk her up. She pranced over to her favorite spot on the rug, did a pirouette, and plopped down to do whatever it is she did all day when I was away.

  I had thought of getting one of those nanny cams to keep an eye on her when I was gone, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what she did. If I had done that before yesterday, I would have been able to catch the creep who broke into my house.

  As I drove by Jake’s on the way to the gym, I looked for signs that he was up. The newspaper was still on the front porch; usually it was gone by now. Maybe he had stayed up late to catch up on work since I had occupied much of his day.

  To be honest, I wasn’t exactly sure what Jake’s job entailed. The best I understood was that when a company was attacked by a virus or worm or some other cyber creature, his job was to find the source of the attack. Other people he worked with met with the clients and law enforcement. That’s why he didn’t have to travel much. It was all too techie for me.

  The gym was more crowded than usual. With spring break right around the corner, a lot of people were trying to jumpstart their bikini bodies. Still, I was surprised by the number of cars parked out front. I actually had to wait in line to sign in at the front desk.

  “What’s the deal with all these people?” I asked Chaz as he licked orange Cheetos residue off his fingers.

  “We started letting non-members use the facilities to work out. The owner wanted to get in on the tourist business. Who knew it’d be so popular?”

  I set the pen down. “Wow. I bet it’s really cut down on the time you’ve had to watch YouTube videos on your phone.”

  “You got that right. I may have to find an easier job.”

  I rolled my eyes and headed to the stationary bikes but found that every single one was being used. Now what? I could go into the room for kickboxing but was afraid I might run into Sherry Grady. As a last resort, I headed for the weight room. I was blasted by the stench of dirty sweat socks and testosterone. Apparently, I was the only female in the bunch. Since I had no idea what I was doing, I looked for a friendly face. Normally, I could pull off the “cute blond girl in distress routine,” but this wasn’t a bar and no one even seemed to notice me.

  Then I spotted a familiar face. It was Alex from the ski resort. He had been helpful when we needed to talk to Brett Boswell; maybe he’d be equally as helpful now.

  I walked up to the bench where he was doing arm curls. “Hi. Remember me?”

  He furrowed his brow as though trying to recall. “Sorry, no.”

  Normally, that would have been a blow to my ego, but he probably dealt with snow bunnies all day, every day at the resort. “I’m Wendy Fairmont, Jake Faro’s friend. We met at the ski resort yesterday.”

  He set down the weight and brushed off his hands. “Oh, that’s right. You were asking about Brett. How’d that work out?”

  “Great. I appreciate your help. When I saw you here, I thought you might be able to help me with some of these weights. I’m a beast at spinning”—which was a lie, of course—“but I’m a newbie on weights.” I caught myself unconsciously batting my lashes.

  “Sure thing. How about starting with some curls. They’re great for warming up your muscles for the big boys.”

  By “big boys,” I assumed he was referring to the heavier weights. If not, that comment was pretty crass.

  He had me sit down and position my elbow on my leg. Then he handed me the weight, which I proceeded to drop to the ground where it landed directly on his foot. He turned his back and hopped around a few times.

  “Oh no! I’m so sorry,” I said. “Are you okay?”

  Clenching his jaw, he said, �
�Just a little stinger. My fault. I’ll get you a lighter weight.” He limped away.

  Mortified, I wished I’d just stayed in bed.

  When he returned, his face was red and he wore a forced smile. “Here, try this.”

  This one weighed about as much as a can of Spaghetti Os. Which was perfect. I followed his instructions exactly, surprised by how quickly my bicep started to burn. I switched sides and repeated the routine. By the time I finished, he seemed back to normal and pleased with the progress of his little grasshopper.

  “I’m really sorry about your foot,” I said. “Maybe I can make it up to you sometime.”

  “You mean you’ll buy me a drink?”

  I pointed to my empty ring finger, then looked at his wedding band. “I don’t drink with married men, unless you want a Gatorade.”

  “That will do for now,” he said with a grin.

  “Be right back.” I grabbed my gym bag and ran out to the cooler in front to get us each a drink. When I returned, I handed him the bottle along with my business card. “Here you go. Call me if anything is broken.”

  He looked at my card. “Huh. Are you a photographer, too?”

  “Yeah. I recently opened a studio in the old skating rink. Are you a photographer?”

  “Kind of. Amateur, of course. Not a pro like you.”

  I took a swig of water. “I’d love to see some of your pictures.”

  He smiled. “This is where the guy in the old movies would say, ‘Why don’t you come to my place and see my etchings.’”

  I laughed and said, “A photographer and a classic movie buff. We have a lot in common.” Not wanting to sound like a flirt, I added, “Does your wife share your interests?”

  “Raven? Not really. Except for skiing.”

  I pictured the tall redhead at the town hall meeting railing at Artie Becker. Had they heard about Artie’s death?

  “Actually,” he said, “I’m entering a picture in the arts fair. You can check it out there. I’d love to know what you think.”

  “Really? I’m entering a picture, too. I wonder who’s going to be the new judge now that Artie Becker is...dead?”

  “Dead?” His expression darkened. “What happened? Car accident? Heart attack? The man smoked like a chimney.”

  “No. He was murdered.”

  Alex sat back down on the bench and stared into space, squeezing the bottle in his hands.

  My stomach did a flip. I know I should have been thinking about poor Artie, but it just occurred to me that it might hurt my business if I lost the photography competition to an amateur. Would it hurt my professional reputation? Maybe I should withdraw. Maybe I should—

  “Wendy?”

  I jerked back to attention.

  “I’ll look for you on Saturday,” Alex said. “Okay?”

  “Sure. See you Saturday.” I headed out of the weight room. Of course, who did I run into next? Sherry, my arch-enemy. I wasn’t in the mood for her.

  “Hey, stranger,” she said. “I thought you must have given up your gym membership to join a jelly-of-the-month club.”

  “My, aren’t you a little ray of pitch black.” I brushed past her, hoping to avoid another sparring match.

  Sherry wasn’t deterred. “I heard you entered in the photography contest at the fair. Guess who’s the new judge now that Artie Becker bit the dust?”

  I stopped walking and turned around. “Don’t tell me. Satan?”

  “No, me.”

  “Same thing.” I started to walk off.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Shouldn’t you be trying to kiss up to me?”

  I turned around and shifted my gym bag to the other shoulder. “Look, Sherry, I’d love to stay and talk, but I need to speak to Dante so he can tell me which level of hell this is.”

  She smiled smugly. “What’s the matter? Afraid I won’t be fair? I’m the sheriff’s wife. They were thrilled when I volunteered. And don’t worry, I’m sure you have as much chance of winning as my five-year-old’s pet turtle.”

  I cut my eyes at her. “Keep it up and you’ll be a strange smell in someone’s attic.” With that, I left.

  As I got in the car, I felt a little queasy. Was it insecurity about my photography or something else? I usually didn’t let Sherry’s snarky comments get to me. I brushed her out of my mind and focused on my date with Jake. I really wanted to make a good impression on his mother.

  With no appointments on the books, I decided that this situation called for a spa day. Nails, hair, toes—the whole nine yards. Besides, you know it’s time for a pedicure when you can exfoliate one foot with the other. Too bad I hadn’t shaved my legs in a while. Oh well. I’d just leave the girl a bigger tip.

  Chapter 11

  Normally, I’d have made my date wait a few minutes while I finished getting ready. It’s a tease, but guys expect it. However, after I got a text from Jake saying he was running late, I was standing at the door anxious to go. I didn’t want his mother to think I was the reason she had to wait on us.

  “You look incredible,” Jake said when I opened the door. “Let’s go.”

  At least he didn’t honk for me to run outside to the car. “What was the problem? Why are you so late?”

  He opened the car door for me. “I’m really sorry. I was working and just lost track of time. I got ready in like three minutes.”

  “Me too. Well, more like fifteen. I had a busy day too.” I tried not to show my annoyance. It’s not like I had spent all day and several hundred dollars getting pinched, scraped, pulled, and waxed. At least he smelled great.

  Jake’s mother and Nancy were waiting at the table when we got to Lorenzo’s.

  Louisa Faro looked just like the pictures I had seen of her online. Her brownish-red hair was obviously a dye job, and it looked like one of those nests worn by older women who visit the salon once a week. Her lipstick and cheeks were both too red and her robin’s egg blue pantsuit looked to be straight out of Hillary Clinton’s closet.

  Jake kissed his mother’s cheek and then introduced me. I resisted the urge to curtsey. “Nice to meet you, Senator Faro.”

  “Oh, you can call me Mrs. Faro.”

  I smiled and glanced across the table to Nancy, who shrugged her shoulders. I needed wine and plenty of it.

  Jake and his mother talked as though they hadn’t spoken in years. She wanted to hear all about his work and friends and anything else she could think of. He made a few awkward attempts to include me in the conversation, but his mother seemed as interested in me as a breadcrumb on the tablecloth.

  When Mrs. Faro turned to speak to some of her constituents in the restaurant, Nancy refilled my wine glass with the bottle on the table and whispered, “Here. You need this more than I do.”

  Jake patted my leg under the table and proceeded to tell his mother about my photography business. She stared at me the whole time he talked as though she were listening to the teacher in a Charlie Brown cartoon. Wah-wah-wah.

  Nancy jumped in to mention that I was entering a photo in the Winter Arts Fair this weekend.

  Mrs. Faro’s eyes unglazed. “The Winter Arts Fair? Is that this weekend? I love the winter fair. What pie are you entering, dear?” she asked Nancy.

  “It’s my raspberry with brandy cordial recipe. I’m adding a secret ingredient to the crust.” She leaned over and whispered in her mother’s ear.

  “Ooh! I bet you knock the socks off Gayle Davidson with that recipe.” She turned to me. “What about you? What pie are you entering?”

  I set down my glass. “Um, I’m not.”

  “What?” She blew out the word so hard the dragonfly brooch on her suit jacket almost took flight. “You must make a pie. Jake, don’t tell me she doesn’t cook?”

  Jake looked back and forth between us as though watching a tennis match just as someone approached the table.

  “Louisa Faro? Is that really you?” A middle-aged man and his wife stood next to the table. They reminded me of one of those couples in the
commercials where they end up side by side in bathtubs. He had the graying temples; she had the perfectly coifed updo.

  “Lars and Margo? What a surprise!” Mrs. Faro stood and they did double-cheek air kisses. “You remember my children, Nancy and Jake. And this is Mindy.”

  “Wendy. Wendy Fairmont,” Jake said and stood up to shake Lars’s hand.

  “Nice to see you,” Margo said. Then she and Lars stepped back to reveal a third member of their party. “And I know you remember Liv.”

  It was like the clouds opening up to reveal an angel. Liv Olsen stood there dressed in a white flowy dress with a fur wrap. I’m surprised harps weren’t playing.

  She walked over to Mrs. Faro. More air kisses. Then she approached Jake. This time it wasn’t an air kiss. She pressed her lips against his cheek and put her arm around his back. I could smell her “oh-day-toilet” from where I sat. In fact, the chef could probably have smelled it from the kitchen.

  “It’s sooo good to see you, Jake.” She practically purred when she spoke.

  I glanced at Nancy, who looked as uncomfortable as I felt.

  “You absolutely must join us,” Mrs. Faro said and motioned to the maître d’.

  “Only if it’s all right with the kids?” Margo asked.

  We all smiled politely except Liv, who jerked a chair from the next table and pulled it up beside Jake.

  The next hour or two dragged by like a dentist appointment. I’m not sure how much wine I consumed, but it wasn’t enough. At one point, after being ignored most of the evening, I randomly inserted myself into a conversation about outings the two families had been on. “How about that Frank Sinatra,” I said. “Isn’t he the best?”

  Jake glared at me like I’d just insulted the Pope. But even that didn’t stop the chatter.

  When we finally got in the car to go home, my head and feet were aching. I slipped off my heels and leaned back in the seat.

  Jake patted my arm. “Sorry about that. I guess it was boring to listen to everyone talk about old times. It’s just that the Olsens and my family have known each other a long time. Lars is a big campaign donor.”