Chapter 13 #2
People were walking quickly in and out of the building. Most were viewing their cell phones.
I approached a gardener who was cleaning up the planted areas in front of the building. The black tub to his right was filled with discarded weeds. “Sir, can you help me?”
The weathered fifty-something man stood, brushed his hands off on his overalls, and raised a flattened palm to the bill of his cap to block the sunlight from searing his eyes. “Sup?” he asked in short.
I explained the problem. He scratched his chin and said he recollected seeing a couple of dudes chatting on Monday.
He jutted an arm toward a spot near the entrance.
When I asked if he could pick either man out of a lineup, he shook his head, claiming all he remembered was that both were good looking.
He said one man had wavy, shoulder-length hair.
The other was a brawny mountain man with dirty blond hair.
Those simple descriptions confirmed to me he’d seen Jason and Patrick together.
“Thank you.” I turned to leave.
The gardener cleared his throat. “Hold on, missy. I can’t say they were chatting nicely. The brawny one poked the other dude in the chest, and he backed away, both hands raised.”
I thanked him again but left the area no more certain than when I’d first arrived. Had Patrick and Jason made amends? Was the final poke good-natured or malevolent?
I proceeded to Feast for the Eyes. When I arrived, Tegan and Chloe were inundated with teenaged girls.
I rounded the sales counter and whispered, “Are you giving away free copies of Powerless?” It was the first in a series featuring a romance between a prince and an ordinary girl as they tried to survive their kingdom’s punishing laws.
Tegan smiled. “A teacher’s assignment is the culprit. Students must choose something in a genre they don’t usually read. Most of those girls are sci-fi or romance readers. With some cajoling, we’ve suggested they try the Enola Holmes mysteries or John Grisham’s Theodore Boone series.”
Chloe unloaded a stack of books on the counter and called over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back,” to a trio of young customers waiting in the romance aisle. She whispered to Tegan and me, “If I hear someone use the word like one more time”— she emphasized the word—“I’m going to scream.”
We laughed.
“Psst, Allie,” Chloe whispered. “Tegan likes Patrick Hardwick.”
Tegan swatted her. “Cut it out!”
“She couldn’t stop asking about his taste in books while you were gone.”
Tegan huffed in exasperation. “I want to know more about him because …” She let the sentence hang.
“Because you aren’t sure if you suspect him of murder,” I finished.
“He could be the murderer?” Chloe gasped. “But how? He’s so nice and handsome and, well, down to earth.”
“Nice, handsome, down-to-earth people kill,” Tegan said.
“I suppose you’re right. James Bond does.”
I thwacked her arm. “What is it with you and James Bond, Chloe?” She loved thrillers.
“I like his suave style.”
“He’s a trained killer.”
“Yes, but he makes women swoon. Wouldn’t you like to swoon some time in your life?
I mean, really swoon? I know I would.” She crossed her arms melodramatically over her chest and moaned in a dreamy way.
“Just because I believe in romance, the kind that occurs in classic literature, doesn’t mean I can’t also believe in the fantasy of a huge, over-the-top, world-shattering love affair. ”
“With a killer!” I laughed, until the notion sobered me.
Was Patrick a killer? Was Iggie? How could either of them have stolen into my house and swiped the spearhead? I wished I’d installed a Ring camera, and made a mental note to invest in a security system soon.
“Ladies!” Lillian swept through the front door with three spangly dresses on hangers draped over one arm. “I have a couple of clients who want getups for the Gatsby party, and I need your opinion.”
“Sorry. Not now.” Tegan gestured to the activity in the shop. “We’re swamped.”
Lillian raised the dresses by the hangers. “A quickie opinion, then. Thumbs-up, thumbs-down.”
“Fine,” Tegan replied.
Lillian selected a red one with a plunging neckline and glorious gold beads.
Tegan held up two thumbs. “Stunning.”
Lillian displayed a blue one that tapered tightly at the hem.
“A mermaid might choose it,” Tegan wisecracked. “A very skinny mermaid.”
“And this, Allie?” Lillian raised a brown gown. “Your turn to chime in.”
I wrinkled my nose. “It’s sort of drab.”
“What do you think, Tegan?” Lillian asked.
“For a person who wants to be under the radar, it’s perfect.”
“It’s a classic,” Lillian said.
“Classically drab,” I joked.
Tegan laughed. “I’ve gotta get back to work.”
Lillian proceeded toward the exit.
“Lillian, hold up.” I scurried to her. “Before you go, I’ve got to ask … You know Iggie Luckenbill pretty well, right? I mean, your family does. They’ve invested in a couple of his property developments.”
“Funny you should mention him. He’s at the shop right now. What do you want to know about him?”
“Tegan’s mom said Iggie bad-mouthed a couple of people in town, in particular Stella Burberry’s brother.”
Lillian and Stella were good friends. In fact, Stella had encouraged Lillian to start volunteering at the children’s ward at the hospital, as if she didn’t already donate enough time to the community theater and had more hours to spare.
“I heard similar rumors.” Lillian clucked her tongue. “He swooped in like a hawk and outbid him. If you ask me, he’s got no couth, but I won’t turn him away. I always need customers. What does that make me?”
“A smart businesswoman.”
“Did you know Iggie was not in favor of Jason Gardner getting the historic properties?” Lillian asked. “He wanted it for his own developmental purposes.”
“I mentioned as much to Zach, but Zach isn’t taking an interest.”
“Are you sure? He holds his cards pretty close to the vest. He doesn’t reveal a whit to anyone.”
She was right. Zach hadn’t said he wasn’t interested. He’d shut down any further questioning on my part to curtail me from poking into the details of the crime. “What else do you know about Iggie?”
“He’s dogged. Determined. A bit of a dilettante.”
“How so?”
“He drinks too much. Plays too much golf. Doesn’t follow through on promises to buyers. But”—she clasped my arm— “to think he’d kill Jason to clear the way so he could bid on the properties? How cold.”
“Murder isn’t warm and fuzzy.” I heaved a sigh. “If only Zach knew Iggie’s alibi for Monday night.”
“He hasn’t asked?”
“I don’t think he suspects him.”
“Hmm. Why don’t we question Iggie? He can’t make up his mind about what to wear to the Gatsby event.
Gangster or Dapper Dan. Gangster is all the rage.
Pin-striped suit. Wool fedora.” She flapped a hand.
“And you know men. They want to think they’re tougher than they are.
But I keep trying to tell him dressing gallantly would be—”
“Hold on. Iggie told you he’s coming to the party? He hasn’t preordered a book.”
“Why would he waste his time? He can learn everything there is to know about The Great Gatsby from his wife. Shayna is the reader in the family. She’s as smart as a CliffsNotes study guide.”
“She’s a reader? How come I’ve never met her?”
“She strictly borrows from the library. She came from nothing, like Finette, and refuses to ever purchase a book. Evah!” Lillian pronounced the final word with a phony accent as she flourished a hand. “Shayna can be quite dramatic.”
Also like Finette, I mused.
Lillian tugged my arm. “Come with me. Tegan and Chloe have this place under control. I’ll ask Iggie where he was Monday night.”
“You can’t ask him point-blank.”
She winked. “Watch me work my wiles.”