Chapter 12
Gail was at her desk at the carwash. She was staring at the computer just like the last time I’d been there, but instead of deer videos and street food, the screen was blank.
I didn’t think the computer was even on.
Jules cleared her throat and wiggled her wrist so her bracelets jingled.
Gail didn’t move, stuck staring at the blank screen.
“Gail,” I said. “Are you okay?”
A shiver rolled through her from her feet to her head, as if she’d just sat through a super slow-motion earthquake.
A single tear tracked down her cheek.
“Hey, now,” I said. “Here.” I walked around the counter and stopped right next to her.
Jules pulled a tissue out of the box on the counter and handed it to me.
“Gail, are you all right? Can I call someone for you?”
She was dressed, but instead of shoes, she wore mismatched slippers. One was a bunny and the other said Wine O’Clock.
“There’s no one.” Her gaze finally shifted from the screen. “There’s no one. Hugo’s dead. Kenny’s dead. I’m alone.”
Someone must have told her the news, and they must have done it at her home.I didn’t know why she’d felt like she had to come in to work (in mismatched slippers), but maybe she was so overwhelmed, she was just running on automatic.
“I am so sorry for your loss,” I said.
“I wanted to leave them. Both of them. But I didn’t want them to leave me. To…to die. I’m alone now. Why am I alone?”
“We’re here,” Jules said gently.
“That’s right,” I said. “We’re here. You’re not alone. Can I call a friend? Maybe a relative?”
She shook her head. I pressed the tissue into her hand. It took her a minute to register it was there. Then she scrubbed at her cheeks, clearing away a layer of foundation.
“Are you washing your car?” she sniffed.
“Not today.” I glanced at Jules for suggestions, but she shook her head.
Gail was really distraught. I felt bad about suspecting her of murder. It felt wrong to question her about Kenny’s death. But she was the most likely suspect.
“Can I ask you a couple questions?”
She nodded. Her eyes were unfocused, like maybe this felt like a dream to her.
“Do you know who would want to hurt Kenny?”
“Kill,” she said softly. “They killed Kenny.”
“Yes. Kill.”
“Me, I suppose. I wanted to get his money. The business. I wanted the building. I’ve never had much, and he seemed to always have more. Hugo too. All those things he stole and smuggled through the shop. All those things.”
It wasn’t that big of a leap to discover Kenny had run a smuggling business out of the pawn shop, but still, I was surprised. How had he run the shop into the ground if he was smuggling on the side?
“What kinds of things did he smuggle?” Jules asked. “Drugs? Guns?”
“No, not those. He said it was rare stuff. I never saw any of it. Hugo was a very private man. He didn’t even like taking his clothes off if the lights were on.”
The tears were coming faster now. Jules handed me the tissue box. I placed it in Gail’s lap.
“He had a good eye for valuable items, though.” She pulled more tissues into her hand. “Said it was magic that made them worth stealing.”
Gail was mortal, and I didn’t think she knew magic was real. Same went for Hugo and Kenny.
“Magic?” Jules asked. “Like hocus-pocus stuff?”
Gail wadded the tissues. “He said stuff like that. Called things magic when he really meant they were easy to sell to the right buyer. He just loved cheating people out of money. Loved it so much. And he was so good at it.”
A fresh wave of tears shook her.
“Did he work exclusively with Kenny?” I asked.
She nodded, then stopped. “Kenny helped move product, but if Hugo found a really good piece, he’d handle it personally.”
“You mean sell it on the black market?” I asked.
She blinked and her eyes cleared. She focused on me and seemed to notice Jules was there too.
“I’m sorry. We’re closed. I have a terrible headache. I’m going to go home.” She pushed onto her feet and swayed.
Futures flickered urgently:
Gail driving distracted
Gail running off the road
Gail rear-ended by a van
“Let me call someone to take you home.” I helped her sit down again. I expected her to resist, but she didn’t.
“On it.” Jules put her phone to her ear and wandered toward the door.
“Gail?” I asked softly. “Did you kill Kenny?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t kill Hugo, either. Do you think the police will believe me?”
“I think they will listen to everything you say and they’ll be fair. You should have a lawyer with you to explain anything you don’t understand.”
“I have a lawyer. A divorce attorney. Do you think she’ll help?”
“Let’s give her a call. Is she in your phone?”
She found her purse (spilled out on the floor next to her desk), retrieved her phone, and called her attorney. It sounded like the attorney had a colleague who could handle this sort of thing.
Jules came back. “Lochlan said he’d be here soon and can take her to the station.”
We stayed with Gail, but she’d retreated back into herself, staring at the blank screen.
Once Lochlan came in, he took over with the kind, gentle energy I’d expect from someone who was used to working with injured animals.
He assured us he had it covered, and Gail looked okay with his help, so Jules and I left.
“That was interesting,” Jules said.
“She didn’t act like she’d killed them,” I said. “But she could be lying.”
“She could be.”
“It looked like real grief though. It looked like Kenny’s death caught her by surprise.” I sighed. “I don’t think she did it.”
“Well, Myra or Hatter will be talking with her soon. In the meantime, who should we talk to next?”
“I don’t know. I suppose Buzz and Aggie since they were there that night? If Vandre shows up, we could talk to him.”
Jules’ phone pinged and she checked her screen. “Shoot. I need to be at the Rookery to sign for a delivery. Do you have time for a detour?”
I looked at my watch. “My shift is in a half hour. If you can take me home, I’ll have just enough time to get ready for work. We can catch up later if you want.”
“I want. Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
“I am. And I’m even more determined to figure out who did this. No one should die like that.”
“Good! Keep that fire burning. Let me get you home.”
* * *
Death held the menu with the tips of his fingers, almost as if it were a rare manuscript that could be damaged by his touch. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt covered in bright rocket ships that sort of resembled adult bedroom items.
“Hey, Than,” I said, looking away from the shirt. “What can I get you today?”
The Beatles were singing good day to the sunshine, and I had my order pad ready to go. I tried to think what menu item would come next alphabetically after applesauce. Artichoke dip maybe?
“The apricot jam,” he pointed at the small addition beneath the sides and extras. “Is it fresh?”
“No, it comes in one of those,” I bent my fingers to indicate the size, “little tubs with the other jams.”
“Ah. And this sauce is to be ordered with another item, I assume?”
“Yep. Toast is a popular pick. Or biscuits.”
He hummed considering. “I shall have toast. And apricot jam.”
“Got it. Can I get you coffee or tea?”
His steady (disappointed) gaze made me feel like I’d flunked a test.
“I have,” he reached for the box next to him and placed it on the table, “tea.”
“How could I forget? Right. Hot water coming up!”
He folded his hands on the table, patient, implacable, and intense. Even though he was technically vacationing, he still threw off some Big God Power vibes.
“Say, Than.” I retrieved the menu. “You’re the,” I whispered, “god of death.”
His eyebrows rose. “Yes.”
“And you’re a reserve officer for Ordinary’s police. Can’t you just tell us who killed Hugo and Kenny?”
Somehow his gaze got even more intense. “I am on vacation, Piper Themati.”
“But they’re dead.”
“Yes.”
It was like a huge door had just been slammed shut. Conversation over.
Then he tipped his head. “Fate chooses her own victims, as do many other beings. While I vacation, my interest lies elsewhere.”
“Like on books and apricot jam,” I suggested.
“Just so.”
I tucked my order pad in my pocket. I couldn’t fault him for not wanting to get mixed up in the murder. After an eternity of dishing out death, I’d want a break too.
I zipped off to place his order, brought it back to him in a jiffy and got back to work.
The diner hummed along at a steady pace but as soon as I had a chance, I checked in with Buzz.
He was leaning one hip on the counter, out of the way of the grill and prep station, drinking a cola from a glass bottle.
“How’s it hopping, Pipes?”
“Like turtles.”
He laughed. “No rabbits?”
“Nice lull, really.” I studied his face. He looked even more tired than usual. “You been sleeping okay, Buzz?”
“Enough. My back likes to remind me I’m not twenty anymore. My knees get in on the chat, too, and they make it loud.”
“I hear that,” I said. “My feet and shoulders.”
“Aw, you’re still young,” he grinned. He had no idea I was old enough to be his grandmama.
“You are too, Buzz.”
His smile shifted, tinged with sadness. “In this business? I’m the age they put cooks out to pasture.”
“Have you thought about sharing the load? Hiring?”
“We’re at our max. This is what we can afford right now, last I checked. I can’t keep track of all that stuff. I need twenty-four more hours in my twenty-four hours.”
I thought about Kenny running his business into the ground and how Gail had wanted it to fail so she could sell it. Hugo only cared about himself and the items—possibly magical—that he stole and sold.
But sometimes partnerships worked well. Jules, Dusi, and I seemed to be a great team for getting the Rookery up and running. Bertie absolutely relied on a team to make her festivals and charity drives work.
“You know,” I said, “I’ve offered to help.”
Buzz nodded. “I need you on the floor. You’re my best.”