Play That Funky Music White Koi (A Lemon Layne Mystery Book 2) Page 7

  “Okay. That’s fair. So what happened?”

  As people milled about us in the bright sunshine, I parsed my words carefully. “I got to talking with Abby’s friends a little. They all attended her meetings once a week—mostly because they’re all old college friends, but the one friend, Thea was her name, told me she and Abby and the others were all out in the woods last night doing some kind of release of energy ritual. Which is an explanation for why she was near my house.”

  Justice frowned, planting his hands on his hips. “Release of energy? Is that some sort of holistic thing?”

  “Apparently, it’s how they send a soul off into the afterlife so they’re not left floating around here with us, all fractured—or something. I know it sounds a little crazy and unconventional, but Abby believed in all sorts of things, if you ask her friend Thea, including the paranormal and the afterlife.”

  Now his eyebrow arched. Just one, mind you. Which meant he was interested. “And exactly who were they releasing?”

  “Another college friend who died just the week before Abby. Josiah Kent, married to Rupert George.”

  “Oh, yep. I know him,” Justice remarked. “Rupert’s the guy who owns the art gallery. Super refined, very cultured. Wears expensive clothes and really shiny shoes.”

  “You’ve been to the art gallery?” I’d always thought I knew Justice pretty well, and I was sure he was a football/beer/chicken wings kind of guy. That he’d even stepped foot into the art gallery shocked and amused me.

  “I went to the opening last year with Sarah Hudson. Remember, we dated a few times? Very splashy bit of business and very boring. No offense, if you like those kinds of things.”

  “Oh, yeah. I do remember.” Sarah Hudson never seemed a good fit for Justice. She’d been pretty intense in school, very studious and quiet, the total opposite of outgoing, gregarious Justice, but I’d liked her well enough. “What ever happened there anyway? She talked like you guys were renting the doves for the wedding already.”

  Justice spewed a sarcastic laugh. “That’s what happened. We’d only been on four dates, for gravy’s sake, and she was already planning our destination wedding in Mazatlan. Oh, and she likes art galleries and poetry slams. Sort of not my thing.”

  I wiped my hand over my brow in mock relief. “Phew. I got nervous there, thinking you’d given up chicken wings for goat cheese and crackers with a nice port. And speaking of Rupert, he wasn’t a believer in what the others believed. He said it was all just nonsense—which of course means there was a divide of sorts between he and Josiah. In fact, he said Abby was the reason Josiah died. I’m not sure what he meant, and no, I didn’t stick around to ask and probe further because I’m not getting involved. Though, I get the impression Abby tried to heal Josiah’s cancer with homeopathy and Rupert didn’t much like it. He seemed pretty upset with her, in fact.”

  Justice pulled out his notepad and scribbled a few lines before he asked, “Anything else?”

  I lifted my shoulders in a gesture of indifference so Justice wouldn’t think I was too interested. “Nope. Just some passing conversation was all that was. Swear it. Though, I have to admit, those meetings she held sounded pretty intriguing. All that talk of the paranormal and the afterlife. Some of the people who showed up at her storefront were actually dressed like they’d just left the set of Interview With A Vampire. If nothing else, they seem pretty devoted to the lifestyle and Abby.”

  He scribbled some more then peered down at me. “Is that really all of it, or is there more?”

  “While I can see your skepticism, that’s really all I have, and not a single thing more, thank you very much. Just the bit about the woods and Rupert. Though, I did wonder if they all have alibis for where they were last night after the ritual was over.”

  “We don’t have anything in-depth at this point.”

  “So…I was just wasting my breath explaining all that stuff, wasn’t I? You already knew all about the energy release ritual and so on, didn’t you?”

  He grinned. “Maybe.”

  “Then why’d you let me go on and on?”

  “Because now I know for sure you were snooping. Sometimes, all you have to do is sit back and enjoy the ride,” he said on a cackle.

  I playfully punched him in the arm. “Dirty pool, my friend. And I wasn’t snooping. I was just being conversational.”

  “Anyway, we’ll bring ’em in one by one and interview them alone, but they all vouched for each other. Said they left when they were done and all went home. They thought Abby went home, too.”

  “And did you guys find anything in the woods yet?”

  Justice pinched his temples before putting away his notepad. “We’ve got guys out in the woods by your house right now, scouring the entire area for evidence, but I’ll send word to be sure they’re thorough and I’ll get Thea and the rest of them into the station to question them with more depth.”

  “Which means more yellow tape and rubberneckers, trying to see if they can find evidence of a vampire instead of buying smoked catfish and Ho Hos.”

  He smiled. “Speaking of Ho Hos, figure out who’s been pilfering them yet?”

  In a bizarre set of circumstances, I’d been trying to catch whoever was stealing Ho Hos from the store for months now. They disappeared into thin air at random and even with cameras covering every angle of the store, I hadn’t been able to catch the thief.

  “I haven’t—which is another good reason for me to keep my nose out of this Abby Hoffer murder. It was murder, wasn’t it?”

  Now Justice gave me the “I knew it” look. “You know I can’t tell you that yet.”

  But I ignored his look and opted to keep my play at disinterest intact. “Well, whatever. It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t have time to catch him if I wanted to because I’m sure I’m going to be too busy cleaning up the mess your forensics team leaves behind in their wake. Last crime scene, they broke the bathroom stall door and the toilet paper dispenser.”

  “Sorry, Lemon. You gotta know I don’t have much of a choice. But the department’ll reimburse you for any damages.”

  I smiled to reassure him I knew he was just doing his job. “I get it. I know it’s not your fault, but if I didn’t bust your chops, I wouldn’t be me and you’d have no use for that duct tape. Look, I have to go and, you know, keep my nose out of things and get back to the store. Just figured you might like to know what I heard.”

  Justice gave me another skeptical glance, but he smiled again anyway. “Appreciate it.

  As I turned to leave, I remembered something else. “Justice? One more thing. That chalice that was with Abby when we found her? That was at the release ritual, too, according to Thea. They used it to drink wine from, not just last night, but at their meetings. It comes from their college days. Thea made is sound like it was a memorabilia kind of thing. Like, something they’d kept all these years as a fun reminder of their friendship.”

  Now he really frowned, which made me bite my tongue out of insane curiosity. Justice might not be aware of it, but his face and eyes were very expressive.

  But all he said was, “That’s interesting. Thanks for letting me know.” Before he strolled off through the crowd and disappeared into the precinct.

  Something was up with that chalice.

  But I didn’t want to know what it was. I was staying on my straight and narrow.

  Okay, I sort of wanted to know.

  But that’ll be our little secret.

  * * * *

  “So, tell me, Miss Fletcher, did you know a Taser can cause a cardiac arrest?” I asked my ever-faithful buddy as she played with a pile of grapes.

  Jess tugged at her favorite boa and popped a grape into her mouth, munching happily and ignoring me.

  “I’ll take that as a no. Well, it seems as though it can. So maybe that’s what Abby Hoffer died from? A heart attack. But who’d want to Taser her to death and why? It sure seems like everybody liked her well enough. How could someone so likeable have
an enemy so horrible they’d want to murder her?”

  I scrolled through Abby’s website once more and found even more information, now that I had an idea about what to look for. I discovered where the group had attended school, and Thea had told the truth. They’d all gone to college together.

  According to Abby’s website, she had a degree in pharmacology. In her mission statement, it also said she’d abandoned all western medicine in favor of holistic healing at the age of thirty-two.

  But what did the rest of the group do for a living?

  I clicked on the pictures of her meetings again and saw the faces I’d seen today at her store, plus a couple of more I couldn’t place. And in a bunch of them, that darn chalice kept showing up.

  I focused on one picture in particular and pinpointed Josiah almost immediately, because he stood near Rupert, who looked borderline annoyed. Still, their arms were entwined and Josiah looked happy enough, completely unaware of Rupert’s discontent. Maybe Rupert was taking one for the team and going to these meetings much in the way a spouse suffers through any number of things they don’t necessarily enjoy but are willing to do because of compromise?

  I tapped Rupert’s picture on the screen with my fingernail. “He doesn’t look too happy, does he, Jess?”

  “Who doesn’t?” my mother asked as she whisked into our kitchen, plunking down next to me on one of the breakfast bar chairs.

  “This guy,” I answered, showing her the screen.

  “I know him. Went to his art gallery opening. Very fancy pants.”

  “Since when do you like art, Mom?”

  “Since I had no choice. It was one of those senior trips organized by the center and they roped me onto that bus like a hog at the 4-H before I could get my wits about me.”

  “Aw, now tell the truth. You went for the free wine, didn’t you?” I teased on a laugh.

  She grinned at me, running her fingers through her spiky electric-blue hair with a wink. “Dang straight, and they had these fluffy stuffed-croissant things. It was like eating a cloud. He seemed nice enough. He even gave Marilyn Ledbetter a job as an inventory specialist on the slow days at the gallery. If he’s willing to give Marilyn a job, with her memory, he’s a good egg in my book. So what’s this guy done?”

  “He hasn’t done anything that I know of, and you’re right, he seemed nice enough. He’s just a friend of a friend of Abby’s, and today when I saw him at her storefront while I was looking for Cappie, he got pretty vocal about her and her methods of healing.”

  Mom leaned back in her chair. “What’s wrong with her method? She’s sure nicer than Dr. Pruitt ever was, the old pussface. Always frowning at me when he took my blood pressure like he’d eaten something sour. Abby was nice, and a sight better to look at.”

  “It’s the whole eastern versus western thing. That’s all. Rupert George doesn’t believe in holistic healing and he made that very clear today.”

  Mom cupped her chin in her hand, her eyes twinkling. “I thought you were staying out of this, Sugarsnap?”

  “Oh, I am. I was just curious about all this holistic stuff. It’s interesting.”

  “Uh-huh,” Mom murmured, clearly unconvinced.

  “Okay, so I just thought it was a coincidence that Josiah, Rupert’s husband, died a week ago and now Abby’s dead, too. Though, Josiah died of cancer. So maybe it’s not so much of a coincidence. Anyway, they were all friends, according to another friend of hers I met named Thea Valentine. That’s all this is. Swear.”

  Which reminded me, I needed to look up Thea and company on Facebook.

  As I started to type Thea’s name, Mom poked my shoulder. “Let’s just call this what it is, Lemon-Meringue. You snooping.”

  I grinned, stroking Jess’s tail as I answered carefully. “Maybe so, but only a little, and I’m definitely not going to go asking questions of anyone or anything. I’m staying right here in our kitchen. This goes no further than me on the laptop at this breakfast bar.” I spread my arm wide to encompass the beautiful ivory-and-rust-marbled granite we’d had installed when we’d updated the kitchen.

  Mom patted me on the back and kissed my cheek. “You’re a good girl, Lemon-Drop. And a crappy liar. I’m off to my spin class. See you and Coco for dinner around seven.”

  I laughed then frowned. “Spin class? You’re spinning now?”

  “How do you think I keep this butt so tight you could bounce a quarter off it?” She gave her backside a quick slap and cackled.

  “What happened to hot yoga?”

  Mom wrinkled her nose. “The lady who runs hot yoga isn’t nearly as cute as Pierre at spin class. That’s what happened.”

  I chuckled at her as she strolled out of the kitchen and off to her newest adventure. If there was one thing I admired about my mom, she wasn’t afraid to try anything. She loved people, and she loved getting out.

  Me? I liked home and the store just fine. We didn’t need the two of us off adventuring. Someone had to live their life with at least a little caution.

  Looking back at my computer, I clicked on Facebook and started digging. With a small shovel, mind you.

  Thea’s face popped up as soon as I typed in her name, her bright eyes smiling, her cute pixie haircut glossy and blonde. Her occupation was listed as real estate broker in Seattle. Clicking on her photos, I began to sift through them until I came upon an album listed “The Good Old Days.”

  That’s when I hit pay dirt. There were tons of pictures from Thea’s college days, and many of them included everyone who’d been at Abby’s today—all tagged as if they’d been waiting for me to come along and find them.

  Ivan “the cranky” Peters appeared as sour back in the day as he was this morning at Abby’s when he’d scoffed at Albert, if not younger. But Albert Miller was the biggest surprise. He’d lost a great deal of weight since his college days, if the picture of him holding a bag of chips and a beer was any indication.

  Josiah sat alongside them, his hands folded in front of him, his handsome face chiseled and maybe even a little Calvin Klein model-ish. Fran Little—the woman Thea had mentioned was waylaid in Boise, or somewhere similar, as I recall—was a pretty redhead with a heart-shaped face and laughing eyes who sat beside Abby, also smiling.

  There was another woman with waist-length dark hair in several of them, sitting rather apart from everyone else with a broody vibe to her. She was untagged on Facebook, so I had no way of figuring out who she was via social media unless she was captioned in one of the pictures.

  There was a picture of all of them lounging around a big table in what looked like someone’s apartment, with lighted candles and some object in the center of the table I couldn’t quite make out due to the quality of the picture. The women were laughing, huddled close together, and the men were all off to the side of them.

  But wait. I counted seven heads, not six. Who was the fourth guy, and why wasn’t he tagged, too? Didn’t everyone have a Facebook profile these days? He looked a little more mature than the rest of them, and I can’t say why that was my impression. He just looked like he had more life experience written on his face than the rest of the crew. He, too, was smiling, and exceptionally handsome at it while he did so. His dark hair shone like black satin, his eyes wide and framed by dark eyebrows that were a deep chocolate. His cheeks had that sexy-gaunt appeal.

  And he had me curious, so I clicked on more of Thea’s pictures until I ran across one of the mystery man labeled, “In Memory of Matthew Miles, 1960—1989.”

  I stared at the picture for a long time and wondered if this guy Matthew had been part of the group Thea claimed had been together since their college days. He’d been twenty-nine when he’d died, and the rest of them were still just on the cusp of their early twenties, if the birthday Thea’d listed on her Facebook was correct. But he sure was in a lot of their mutual pictures.

  Yet there was no information on how he’d died, and a dead man couldn’t kill Abby Hoffer—unless you listened to Abby’s view on lif
e after death, I suppose.

  Deciding to peruse the other members of the group and their Facebook pages, I made some quick notes on their occupations without thinking, caught myself, then firmly closed my laptop, looking to Jess.

  I tugged her sparkling pink boa. “That’s it, my little primate. No more poking around. I could spend all day poring over this lot of college friends’ Facebook pages for clues, but that would mean I’m invested—and I’m absolutely not. Not. Not. Not.”

  Jess tilted her head and squawked her monkey love song at me. Even she was skeptical.

  I slid off the chair and chucked her under her tiny chin with affection. “No. It’s true. I swear. We have much bigger things to do today. As a for instance, I need to sweep the front steps and water the geraniums.”

  Jess climbed up along my arm and wrapped herself around my neck as if to tell me she was ready to take on the task.

  Making my way to the pantry, I grabbed the broom and the watering can and headed down the hall and out to the entryway just as my phone rang.

  Pushing the front door open, I sat Jess on the banister and pulled my phone out of my back pocket to see it was Coco calling, but I didn’t answer it due to something that caught my attention under the late afternoon sun.

  Something shiny in the grass at the end of the path.

  I pushed my glasses up along the bridge of my nose and stared harder before I went down the stairs of our wide porch to investigate, to be sure it wasn’t the sun paying tricks with the light.

  As I passed the mounds of pansies and begonias my mother had planted along each side of the walkway, I stopped and stooped low to get a good look at the clump of decorative grass mingled amongst the flowers, pulling out the plastic gloves I always carry with me in case the store’s bathroom needs cleaning. I pulled them on.