What a Nunderful World Page 7

  An investigation I wasn’t invited to participate in. Yet, the purse was the only clue I had worthy of my attention at this point.

  “Trixie!” Jeff howled at me, nudging me with his head.

  My gaze flew to Jeff’s face, his chocolate-brown eyes imploring me to pay attention. “What’s up, buddy?”

  “I’m beggin’ ya, no more Glitzy Mitzy videos, m’kay? If I have to hear that squeee one more time, I’m gonna go wicked mad!”

  I chuckled and shook my head. “It is a little abrasive, huh?”

  Livingston tsked from his perch on the armchair in the living room. “Abrasive, lass? It’s ear piercing, and if I never hear it again, I shan’t feel a shred of sorrow.”

  Untucking my leg from beneath me, I repositioned myself on the couch, pulling a blanket from the back of it to snuggle into. “Sorry, guys. I just thought I might be able to find out who made Mitzy’s purple purse. I’ll put my headphones on.”

  “Trixie?” I heard Higgs call from outside the front door, rapping his knuckles against the solid wood.

  “Come on in!” I yelled as Jeff made a beeline for the entryway, almost knocking over a tall vase filled with cottonwood stems.

  He really had developed a deep bond with Higgs since they’d been able to communicate. They were “bro-ing” in a way I didn’t anticipate, but was relieved to see. It made everything so much easier when I didn’t have to fib to Higgs about how I knew exactly what Jeff wanted.

  “Jeffie!” Higgs yelped, patting his chest to encourage Jeff to jump into his arms. “How are ya, bud? I missed you, man.”

  Jeff made the leap with ease, launching himself into Higgs’s strong arms and licking his face. “Did ya bring me somethin’ to eat? A treat?”

  Higgs ruffled the fur on Jeff’s head and set him down, smiling adoringly at him. “Did I bring you a treat? Silly boy. Are the Red Sox a wicked baseball team? Do the Bruins play hockey?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pig ear, Jeff’s favorite.

  Jeff dropped to the floor and sat at Higgs’s feet like the well-mannered, trained dog he’d become. “Thanks, man. You’re the best!”

  He took the treat with a gentle nip and scurried off to the corner by the fireplace, where his bed was, to enjoy his treat.

  After giving Livingston a quick stroke on the head, Higgs came to stand over me with a smile. “So, Sister Trixie Lavender, I suppose you’re looking for sketch pads at bulk prices, not fishing around online for clues to the death of one Mitzy Glitzy, right?”

  I patted the couch next to me and groaned. “It’s Glitzy Mitzy, and you know me so well. Yes, I’m poking around, but really all that poking amounts to is watching videos of Mitzy in the hopes I’ll find out who made her purse. Oh, and reading the ninety million or so comments to see if I can find anything suspicious.”

  I explained to him about the two purses, but he appeared to already know. Draping his arm around my shoulder, he brushed my hair from my face.

  “Tansy told me you were a little upset with her.”

  I turned to face him. “I’m not really upset, per se. Just disappointed. I’d hoped she’d include me in the investigation and instead, she’s locking me out. Though, I understand why she’s doing it.”

  “She’s really worried about your safety, Trixie. What happened with Emile upset her far more than you’ll ever know. She was a nervous wreck while you were healing.”

  I closed the laptop, figuring I might as well let this go until at least after dinner. “But she had nothing to do with that. It was just wrong place, wrong time. You know that. I didn’t actively seek him out—he found me at the church.”

  Higgs bounced his head in agreement. “Yep, I know that and you know that, but Tansy’s not your average detective who’ll accept that as an answer. She also knows you would have actively investigated him if you had known he was a killer. But the real problem is, she involved you, even if it was only minimally. And she likes you, Trix. She likes you a lot, and she’d die if you were hurt.”

  “Like I said, I get it. But this particular situation really has Coop down in the dumps. I was hoping I could at least help bring some closure. But Tansy shut me down real fast.”

  “Well, how about we talk about your dilemma instead?”

  “My dilemma?”

  He cleared his throat and looked me in the eye. “Artur. He’s a pretty big dilemma.”

  My stomach sank. He was definitely a dilemma. One I put off facing every day. “Okay… What’s there to talk about?”

  I’m not sure I’m ready to find out what Artur means in my life, or even the how and why of his entry to my body. I only know, it’d had been very quiet for a little while and, with the exception of one incident last month where he’d made me draw a picture of St. Aloysius By The Sea—a drawing I hadn’t shown anyone—nothing significant had happened.

  Maybe I was burying my head in the sand, but my life is going pretty great. I think I’m afraid to upset the applecart.

  Though, I suppose if I told Higgs about the drawing, he’d call that significant.

  “I might have an idea,” he said, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Oh, I love ideas. They’re all the rage, I hear.”

  His eyes narrowed with that warning I’d become so accustomed to. “Stop making jokes and hear me out.”

  I squirmed in my seat. The subject made me so uncomfortable. “All right. All ears. Go.”

  “Let’s road trip.”

  “To? Rome? The Vatican? The demon store, so we can see if they take returns on my kind of demon?”

  He chucked me under the chin with a devastatingly handsome grin. “Still funny.” Then he shook his head. “No. Rome’s more of a commitment than even I have in me. I was thinking more along the lines of the convent.”

  I blinked and gave him a blank stare, my stomach somersaulting at the very thought. “My convent? My former convent?”

  “Yep. What better way to find out what happened to you than to return to the scene of the crime?”

  Coop burst through the door then, her chest heaving, her face, while still impassive, beet red, saving me having to answer Higgs.

  “Trixie Lavender!” she called as she skidded to a stop in front of me, her hair wet from the rain.

  I know when Coop’s upset, which isn’t often, but this was her frantic, anxious tone, and I’d only experienced that once or twice. Something was really bugging her.

  Leaning forward, I set my laptop aside. “Coop? Are you okay?”

  “No,” she offered, rapidly shaking her head. “I have some information and we need to investigate it. Now. Right now,” she basically demanded, stomping her foot on the floor. “I mean, please. Please put your shoes on and come with me.”

  “Wait, Coop, what’s going on?”

  “I just realized that I videotaped some of the event.”

  My ears perked up. “Okay, and?”

  “And listen. Listen and watch closely.” She pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and hovered over the play button.

  I took the phone from her and saw the wide expanse of Cobbler Hall, full of people wandering about. Coop must have stopped with the friend she’d made at our table right by the big throne and archway, where everyone had been taking pictures. They were chatting lip primer when someone stepped in front of them, a woman with long blonde hair hanging all the way down her back, and sporting a beautiful white, glimmering pantsuit with flared legs and a matching blazer.

  When she turned around, I instantly recognized her as one of the makeup gurus listed in the sidebar on YouTube. Her videos had come up often as suggested viewing.

  I hit pause. “Who is that, Coop?”

  “That’s Susie-Susie and her assistant. She’s another makeup guru. Listen to what she says, Trixie,” she insisted.

  I pressed play again and watched carefully as Susie-Susie muttered to her assistant, “Just you watch and see what ends up happening to the darling of the YT. Miss Fakey-Fake Mitzy’s in for a r
eal surprise when this is event of hers is all over.”

  Chapter 7

  My mouth fell open while Higgs asked, “Susie-Susie, huh? Is this a pseudonym or is it standard practice that all the makeup ladies have two first names?”

  Coop rolled her eyes as she yanked my arm. “It’s just her stage name, Higgs. Don’t be obtuse. Her full name is Susan Masters, and she’s been on YouTube for a long time. She’s quite respected.”

  I made a face at Higgs and giggled. “Yeah. Don’t be so obtuse.” Then I turned to Coop as I handed her the phone and gave what I’d just seen a bit of rational thought. “This could mean anything, Coop. She could be talking about a million things. Not necessarily murder.”

  “Want to know why I think she might have murdered Mitzy?” Coop asked, her tone of the “I have a secret” variety. That in itself intrigued me. She was really learning inflection.

  “Of course I want to know, Coop. What makes you think she might have murdered Mitzy?”

  She widened her eyes and rolled her head on her neck. “Mitzy stole her boyfriend, Luca Stoker,” she answered with a definite hint of recognizable sass.

  Higgs let out a very girlish gasp, his eyes going wide. “No! She stole Susie-Susie’s boyfriend? How…how ratchet!”

  Coop reached down and gave him a playful punch. “Stop making fun and using words that sound ridiculous coming from a man your age. It’s a valid motive, Higgs, and you know it. Why do people kill? Jealousy, passion, revenge, money. Those are all motivators. If she was jealous of Mitzy because she took her boyfriend, why wouldn’t she kill her?”

  I narrowed my gaze at Higgs and gave him the “knock it off” signal with my eyes. “She’s right, Higgs, but what I question is if that’s what she meant. I mean, why would she say that out loud in a public place, Coop? It doesn’t feel right.”

  But Coop was holding on to her theory. I’m guessing because she needed answers, and any answer at this point would be better than the senseless death of her idol.

  “She was saying it to her trusted confidant—her assistant. They’re best friends, Trixie. Like us. If you were going to kill someone, wouldn’t you tell me?”

  Oh, to have her very black and white view of the world. “Oh, Coop. I can’t get into that mindset, to be honest. I mean, I tell you a lot of very private things, but it I were going to murder someone, I…I don’t know. It’s a very simplistic view of friendship. Someone sneaky probably isn’t going to tell anyone unless the other person is in on it, too, and murder takes a certain amount of cunning and secrecy.”

  But Coop was ready to defend her theory. “Well, maybe they were in on it together. What about that meme I always see on Facebook about how a real friend gets the bleach and the plastic bags and helps you bury the body?”

  I fought a loud laugh. I didn’t want to insult my beautiful demon, but she took literal to a whole new level. “That’s a distinct possibility, Coop, but I think that meme is meant to be taken more figuratively than literally.”

  She stared blankly at me, her eyes deadpan. “I would literally do that for you.”

  Eep. We were veering off course here. “But I literally wouldn’t ask you to. Anyway, I definitely think we should share this video with Tansy, don’t you? Let’s send it to her, okay?”

  “I think we should send it to her, too, but I also think we should talk to Susie Masters. She’s at the Cobbler Cove Hotel right now. They’re having a memorial service with some of the other gurus who aren’t allowed to go home under police orders, to honor Mitzy. But beforehand, they’re having dinner.” Coop scrolled her phone and went to Instagram, where there was a post by Ames Snarles, announcing where he would be for dinner this evening. “We could go…”

  Dang Coop. She knew I couldn’t resist sticking my nose in, and she was counting on that being the carrot she dangled under my nose. I could see it in her eyes.

  Peering at her, I asked, “Did you hear what Tansy said to me, Coop? She said I wasn’t allowed to investigate.”

  Coop shrugged her shoulders with an almost innocent glance at us. “But we’re not investigating. We’re going to Cobbler Cove Hotel for dinner, and we’ll just happen to be in the same place as the people who are going to have a memorial. It’s a coincidence.”

  Higgs rose from the couch and stretched his arms with an indulgent grin. “Devious, Coop. I like it.”

  “But it hasn’t even officially been called a murder, Coopie. What if it was just an accident?”

  She poked me in my belly with a finger. “Is that what your gut is telling you?”

  Sighing, I shook my head. She was right. My gut said murder as loud as any gut can. “No. That’s not what my gut is telling me.”

  “Then let’s go. Pleeease? I hear they have a really good bacon cheeseburger. You like hamburgers, Trixie, so it’ll be my treat,” Coop encouraged, nudging my shoulder with hers.

  I pinched my temples, trying to resist temptation. I didn’t know I was in the thick of things until I was, and I didn’t want to ruin my relationship with Tansy over something that might be nothing.

  But…

  “What about family dinner? Knuckles is cooking meatloaf tonight. We don’t want to miss family dinner, do we?”

  I don’t know why I was bothering to feign reluctance, because of course I wanted to ask Susie-Susie what she meant by what she’d said. I just didn’t want to alienate Tansy in the process—or get caught doing it.

  Coop grabbed my purse from the coffee table and handed it to me. “I asked Knuckles if he wouldn’t mind changing it to tomorrow, and he said if it made me happy to go sniff around, then it made him happy, and if he had time, he’d meet us there with Goosie.”

  I chuckled. She really was becoming quite the little sleuth. “Sounds like you have all the bases covered. So okay, but we have to be careful, Coop. I don’t want to anger Tansy.”

  “I promise I’ll be careful.” Then she grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, Trixie. I really need to solve this. It means a great deal to me. I feel like I won’t get a good night’s rest if I don’t find Mitzy some peace.”

  Smiling, I looked around for my shoes. “You bet, Coop. Let’s go see if we can find us a killer.”

  I slipped my shoes on and dropped a kiss on Livingston’s head, stroking his back. “You okay here for a bit on your own?”

  “Fries, Trixie. Bring me back some fries—extra crispy, lass,” he cooed.

  Grinning, I tapped his beak affectionately. “You got it, buddy. Okay, guys, are we ready?”

  Higgs smiled at me as he pulled on his jacket then held mine open for me. “Is that a gleam in your eye I see, Sister Trixie?”

  I stuck my tongue out at him and pulled him toward the door. “It is not, ex-Police Officer Higglesworth. It’s hunger. I’m starving. C’mon. Let’s go.”

  Okay, it probably was a gleam in my eye. Yes. The idea of asking around and possibly finding out why someone would kill Mitzy was of great interest to me. I can’t deny that, but I had my fingers crossed I wouldn’t fudge this up and anger Tansy.

  Because I liked her, too—a lot.

  Almost as much as I liked investigating a murder.

  Chapter 8

  Cobbler Cove Hotel was aglow with soft lamps lining the paved pathway to the heavy mahogany double doors. Rich with history, it had been at the heart of the district for over a hundred years and had recently gone through a revamping and total interior renovation.

  I can vouch for how grateful I was when the renovations were done and the traffic had eased up. It made getting home much easier during rush hour.

  Eight floors in total, a fresh, lighter brick façade had changed the look of the entire building. It appeared far more welcoming than it had when we’d first come to Cobbler Cove. It used to remind me of one of those insane asylums in a horror movie, with its moss-covered walls and dark exterior. But the renovation had done wonders, and it appeared to be buzzing with life.

  Plus, Coop was right, they did have a mean che
eseburger even before they’d revamped the place. I hope that still held true because my stomach was on full tilt.

  As the rain pelted us with sharp pings, our feet slapped against the wet concrete as we ran for the door, where we were greeted by the doorman, who whisked us inside to the warm interior.

  “Wow,” Higgs commented on a light whistle. “They really did a great job. This used to be so gloomy and pretentious.”

  It was beautiful, from the gold and white marble floor to the enormous chandeliers and the comfortable, casual couches placed strategically by the roaring fireplace the size of a cave opening. Small round tables sat between chairs where people lounged, enjoying drinks.

  As we followed the signs for the restaurant along a small hallway, we passed tall potted plants in decorative gold urns and large canvass paintings of the Columbia River and Mt. Hood. The atmosphere was laid back and easy—and the smell from the restaurant sang to my empty stomach.

  Coop was at the hostess’s podium before all of us, her eyes scanning the restaurant’s interior, done in warm woods and muted oyster and cream paint, asking for a table for three.

  As we followed the pretty hostess past the long, padded bar, bobbing and weaving through the booths, I heard the gurus before I saw them, their loud, raucous laughter echoing through the restaurant.

  When they came into view, I noted they were gathered around a large round table covered in creamy white linen, laughing and drinking, and not looking particularly mournful about Mitzy’s passing. All easily identified by their perfect makeup and hair.

  I recognized Alma Zon with her green-tipped locks, sitting with Octavia. Side by side, they sat by another guru, who had her leg slung up over the edge of the table as though she owned the place, and directly across from the very pretty Susie Masters. Margot was there, too, but she didn’t seem to notice us for staring blankly into her wine glass.