Chapter 9
The car wash was the kind where you did most of the work yourself. It had a coin-operated vacuum, sprayer, a soap and wax option. You had to buy the cloths if you didn’t bring your own, and the whole thing was done under a single stall awning—sort of like a large carport.
But you could ask for the deluxe treatment and the employees would do all that work for you.
I decided today was a deluxe car wash day.
I parked and walked to the little shed office. It had heat and air conditioning and smelled strongly of perfume. The radio played—something pop and bright—and Gail Malloy sat at the desk watching a video of people feeding small deer.
“Good morning!” I called out.
“Be riiight with you.” She clicked through a couple menus to bring up something that looked like an invoice.
She swiveled her chair but didn’t stand. “What can I get for you?”
She (like so many people) didn’t recognize me out of uniform.
“One luxury wash, please.” I held out my keys.
“Good choice.” She stood and took my keys. “Let me get this to Laura. She’ll take care of it.”
She jingled out through the back door, called for Laura, and came back.
“Cash or credit?”
I gave her my card and tried not to wince as she rang me up. Luxury meant you paid for it, too, but it bought me time to talk to her.
“You can sit over there,” she said. “It’s going to take a while.”
“Thank you.” I made a point to look at the name plaque she had propped on her desk. “I’m really sorry to hear about your husband.”
She held my gaze long enough I couldn’t tell what emotion was rolling behind all that make-up.
Then she lifted one shoulder. “He did a lot of things. Things that made people mad. I always told him he’d regret it. Treating people like that. He’d laugh and tell me they’d have to catch him first.”
Her gaze locked down again, and I had a feeling she couldn’t see me. I had a feeling she saw him, laughing at her. Or maybe she saw him trying to run while she stabbed him in the back.
“They caught him,” she said. “Easy as that. Someone caught him. He’s not laughing now, is he?”
“No,” I said. “I suppose not.”
She shook her head, sniffed, and moved over to her desk.
For a widow of a recently murdered man, she didn’t seem to be all that upset. But then, people handled grief differently. Maybe working, pretending that things were normal, that this had been inevitable, was her way to process such a sad reality.
Plus, he’d been her almost ex. Maybe she was glad he was permanently gone.
“Do you know who he was going to see at the diner?” I asked.
She jiggled the mouse and clicked, starting up the deer again.
“He didn’t talk to me,” she said to the screen. “Not anymore. You know how it is.” She glanced over, then away. “Being married for so many years. He had better things to do than talk to me. Plus, he was leaving.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Everyone says that. But I had better things to do too. Better people to be with. He could have his secret little business deals. He could have his delusion of scoring that million-dollar hit. I knew what he’d do if he ever fell into that kind of money.
He’d just throw it all away trying to get more.
“Just like he threw away everything good trying to get better. Only he never got anything better. He got killed.”
“Do you know who would have done that? Killed him?”
“You sound like the police. Ask them. I say it’s Jean Reed. She was there. She could have killed him over the three hundred parking tickets he hadn’t paid. I wouldn’t even blame her.”
“But if it wasn’t Jean? Who else might have wanted him dead?”
“Well, me.” She glanced at me and laughed, a hard rattle of a sound. “Of course I’m a suspect. Wife, right? The killer is usually someone the victim knows? I must be at the top of the list.”
“Did you kill him, Gail?” I asked softly.
“I maybe wanted to sometimes.” She clicked the screen.
It switched to street food. Someone pouring batter. She watched the cook work the grill, laying out dozens of identical puddles in rows. The chef added piles of shredded cabbage on top of the batter.
“You wanted to?” I prompted.
“Sure. But I didn’t.” Her eyes flicked up, then back to the food. Eggs were getting involved. “He wasn’t worth it. He cheated on me. More than once. Took my savings. Why would I kill him if he was already dead to me? I was leaving anyway.”
“For Kenny?”
She snorted. “He’s just a pit stop. Like Hugo. Just big old pits. I have better plans. I’m going to dump Kenny, dump this nothing town. Sell the house.” She went back to watching the food.
“Go to Japan. Hugo hated travel. He would have hated Japan. So, I’m going to live there because I can.”
When her gaze returned to me, it was watery. She might be sad, but she was angry too. I could see it in the angle of her eyebrows, in the tightness of her lips, the clench of her jaw.
“You can live there,” I agreed. “I mean, probably after the investigation. Did Hugo mention who he went to talk to that night?”
She shook her head and pointed to the uncomfortable plastic chairs against one wall. “It’s going to take at least thirty minutes to wash your car.” Then she clicked the mouse to watch someone get on a bullet train.
I decided to go outside to get some air.
“Yoo-hoo!” a familiar voice called out. “Piper! I thought that was your car.”
Jules pulled into the lot. She stuck her head and hand out the window and waved. “How about lunch? I’m starving!”
I grinned and jogged over, ducking into the passenger seat. “Perfect timing. I’m doing the luxury wash.”
“Fancy.” She put the car in gear and turned down the side streets. “Special day?”
“Yes. I’m asking some questions about Hugo’s death.”
Her eyes were wide and so was her smile. “Good for you! Sleuthing! I love it. You have to fill me in on all the details. No, wait. Dusi is going to meet us for lunch. So, hang on until we get there.”
I grinned, already feeling better. “I don’t have anything solid yet, though. You and Dusi would have had more luck.”
“Pfft. Nonsense. You’re amazing. Fish and chips?”
“Sounds wonderful.”
Jules drove to the little fish and chips shop that wasn’t touristy enough to bring in many visitors, even though it was literally called The Fish and Chips. Good thing it did a brisk business with locals.
We strolled into the restaurant. Dusi held up her hand (as if we wouldn’t notice her in her bright green scarf and mirrored sunglasses) and we settled at the table set for two.
“Hang on.” I gathered up silverware and a water glass by the self-serve beverage station, then returned to the table.
“Need the menu?” Dusi offered.
“Nope. I’m doing fish and chips. It’s my favorite here.”
“So am I,” she said.
Jules stacked the two menus. “That makes three of us.”
The waitress, Rebecca, saw the menu stack and swung by. She took our drink order, meal order, scooped up the menus, and came back with our drinks.
While we waited for the food, I filled them in on everything I’d found out from Gail and Kenny.
I covered the whole missing-door, melted-Pandora’s-safe too. And that Joanie was going to rebuild at least one of the storage units.
Just for good measure, I also told them about Aggie and her distrust of Detective Vandre, and went over the questions he’d asked me.
“You have been busy,” Jules said. “All I did was put those donations together for Bertie.”
“You stayed with Jean this morning. That was important.”
She nodded. “I’m worried for her. She’s putting on a happy face, but she’s worried too.”
I touched her hand gently. “She’s going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”
“Of course we will,” Dusi said. “Let’s start from the beginning: the fire. Who might have known what was in that safe?”
“A god?” Jules suggested.
Dusi made a derisive sound. She had a low opinion of gods.
“What about Fawn?” I asked. “Would a werewolf be able to smell what was in it?”
“Or maybe Herman,” Jules mused. “He’s a troll, which gives him some keen magical sight, especially when it comes to stone, like concrete.”
“Or Lochlan?” I asked. “Blue caps usually live beneath the ground, and the safe was buried below ground.”
“So, we need the book club?” Dusi asked.
“We need the murder mystery book club!” I agreed.
Jules chuckled. “I’ll send a text. They can meet us out at Joanie’s storage. This afternoon work?”
Dusi nodded.
“Let me make sure Joanie’s okay with it,” I said.
We got busy on our phones. Minutes later several people pinged in to tell us they could meet us there. Joanie sent me several thumbs ups and happy face emojis and said she would love any help at all.
By the time our food came (hot and delicious), I was excited we had a plan.
“These are so much better than the Blue Owl’s,” I said taking the last crispy bite of the fish. “I wish I could figure out their batter.”
“You could ask,” Dusi suggested.
“I did. No luck. But I like the mystery. That way I can come here for a nice meal I didn’t serve myself. Should we head over to the storage units?”
“Yep,” Jules stood. “I’ll drop you back at the car wash to get your car.”
“Perfect!”
We stacked our dishes, left a tip, and piled into Jules’ car.
“Wow,” I said as we drove into the carwash lot and parked next to my shiny clean vehicle. “It looks brand new. Laura’s good.”
“Want us to wait?” Dusi asked.
“No, I’ll just hop in, get my keys, and meet you out there.”
By the time I got to the storage units, Joanie and half the book club were already standing in front of the police tape surrounding the burned units.
I waved and hurried to join them.
Our crew consisted of:
Xtelle, who was still “disguised” as a pink unicorn pony, even though Delaney had told her not to walk around town in that form.
Fawn, who kept smiling and trying not to stare at Joanie. (It was cute.)
Herman, who had on a flannel shirt, suspenders, and beanie that made him look like a lumberjack.
Sage, wearing leggings and a T-shirt dress (obviously off duty from her EMT job).
Lochlan, who still looked sweet, but wore a black T-shirt from a heavy metal band and heavy hiking boots.
With Jules in her layers of gossamer scarves and skirts, Dusi in her stylish coat and mirrored sunglasses, and me (comfortable shoes, sweater, and pants—hey, it was my day off) we made a motley but eager investigation crew.
“I really appreciate you all coming out here,” Joanie said. “The fire department and police have cleared me to take down the tape, but I’ve left it up until I can get the area cleaned so I don’t have to worry about someone twisting their ankle. So please be careful where you step.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Xtelle said. “Just take us to the murder box.”
“It’s not a murder box,” Lochlan said. “It’s a safe.”
“No,” Xtelle insisted. “It must have murder. Otherwise, what are we doing out here? We only investigate murders. We are a murder book club.”
“We,” Sage put in, “don’t investigate anything. Officially.” She gave a big cheesy wink.
“Well, now I’m bored!” Xtelle stomped across the gravel her tail stiff and straight. “Someone said it was a crime.”
“If Pandora left something dangerous behind that was stolen, it could be a crime,” Joanie said.
“Or it could be just an empty melted safe,” Herman added.
We all made thoughtful noises, but really, this book club loved a murder. If there was a crime to solve, all of them wanted in on it.
“This is it.” Joanie stopped a few feet from a hole in the floor.
“Let me see how and when that hole was made,” Lochlan said. “I should be able to tell if it’s a recent cut, or if it’s been open for a while.”
He strode forward with confidence and crouched to study the stone.
“Oh,” he said. “Yes. The cut is recent. With a concrete cutter, I think. But the chamber? Yes, I’d say it’s a chamber. That was created by power. You can still feel the magic in it.”
“Magic?” Jules moved up and carefully lowered herself so she could place her fingers on the floor. “Wards. They’re not working, but there was magic here. Very subtle, too.”
“Shouldn’t Delaney have noticed the magic?” I asked.
Jules shook her head. “It’s very faint. I can only feel it by touching it. If Lochlan hadn’t mentioned it, I wouldn’t have noticed.”
“Can you tell what those wards were guarding?” Joanie asked.
Everyone drew in closer. Fawn knelt and sniffed at the space. She dragged one finger in the soot and sniffed that, too, her eyes distant.
Herman stared at the hole, his hands on his hips, then he turned and slowly paced the perimeter of the roofless room.
Xtelle studied her fingernails (hoof), looking every bit as bored as she ever was.
Futures bubbled and flashed:
Xtelle yelling about something
Xtelle storming away
Xtelle telling us what was in the safe
I knew which of those futures I wanted to come true. Was it worth using free will to try to make it happen? Would the information she gave us be worth messing up the future?
If something dangerous had been stored in that safe, it would be worth using a little free will to find out.
I hoped.
“You might as well tell us,” I said to Xtelle.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“You know what was in that safe, don’t you?”
She stilled, and when her gaze met mine, it burned with fire.
She was a demon. She’d undoubtedly done many terrible things before she’d come here to lark about as a unicorn.
But one thing I knew she had plenty of practice at was making deals to get her hands on souls and other valuable items.
It’s basically in a demon’s DNA to offer deals, get more than they give, and somehow turn the whole thing against the unlucky person who thinks they have a chance to win.
“How would I know what was in it?” she asked. “I’ve been in Ordinary for less time than you.”
“Because you know where all sorts of powerful things are hidden, don’t you?”
The very slight twitch of her horsey lips told me that yes, she knew.
She blew a raspberry. “Of course, I know where powerful things are hidden. But why would I tell you?”
“Because we’re helping Joanie,” Fawn said.
“Because we’re a murder book club and we’re solving a mystery,” Herman said.
“Because I am willing to see if you can demon your way out of being a statue,” Dusi said in her soft voice.
“Dusi!” I exclaimed.
Jules barked out a laugh, and I giggled, turning my head into my shoulder.
Everyone else stared at Dusi. Moments like this made me happy the powerful gorgon, who could turn people into stone, was on our side.
“Well, that’s certainly a thing,” Sage said. “Your move, Xtelle.”
Xtelle tossed her head and puffed rainbow sparkles out of her nose. “Someone has to give me something to make this worth my time. It’s the rules.”
“How about we give you a body that doesn’t have stone lungs?” Fawn said. “That seems like a great offer.”
Dusi tipped her chin toward her in agreement. “What was in the safe?”
“Unfair!” Xtelle pouted. “Fine! Not for any of you, but for the murder solving. It was a box.”
“What kind of box?” Joanie asked.
But I knew, because every future showed it, three, nine, a hundred, a million.
“Pandora’s box,” I said.
“Obviously,” Xtelle said. “This was her storage unit, after all.”
“It’s been stolen,” Joanie said sounding almost numb. “Someone stole Pandora’s box.”