Chapter 21
With the library in apple pie order, I left Cosmo to take a restorative nap and set out to have a chat with the detective. I caught him on his lunch break which he spent with his girlfriend, my pal and lawyer, Louisa.
They were at the Axes fair enough in a relatively new relationship.
“I only have a question or two for Trey.”
Niels brought my coffee.
I let it sit to cool off for a minute or two.
Trey grimaced. “Fire away.”
Louisa covered her ears. “Pretend I’m not here.”
“It’s fine, I trust your discretion,” I said.
She lowered her hands. “Good.”
“I’ve been talking to the person in Cannon Hill. The young woman.” Odds were, Louisa knew exactly who I was talking about, but this way, I didn’t out Candice explicitly. The fewer people were aware of Candice’s problem, and my connection to her, the better.
“Right.” Trey bit into his sub and chewed slowly.
“She had her room searched.”
“It happens.”
“Absolutely. What I’m wondering is, why? And also, did the police find what they were after?”
“You want me to pry into a Cannon Hill investigation.”
“Please?”
“I don’t see any harm,” Louisa said. “It’s not as if it’s a confidential file, and Bex has proven her use to you.” She put her hand on his.
He lifted it and kissed her hand. For a second, they stared at each other in such a besotted fashion that I had butterflies in my stomach. I’d almost forgotten that sensation.
Then Trey became all business again. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks.” I sipped my latte.
“In return I want you to keep me informed if you uncover anything that might be important.”
“Deal,” I said, with the silent caveat that it was all a matter of interpretation. I wouldn’t want to send the man on a wild goose chase, after all.
I took my latte and left the couple to themselves.
A cold breeze, accompanied by rain spatter, hit me as soon as I left the Axes & Grinds. I hunched my head between my shoulders and sprinted to my car, or at least that was the plan.
“Wait up,” someone called out behind me, making me spin around. The lid from my coffee cup flew off and the liquid sloshed out. Only a quick spell prevented me from my clothes being drenched (yes, preventing personal disasters was allowed, according to Cosmo’s rules).
“Kyle?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He picked up the lid from the ground.
“No worries.” I took a Kleenex to dry the cup. There was hardly any coffee left and considering that Kyle had picked up the lid off the soggy ground, it was now destined for the recycling bin.
“I’ve got something for you,” he said.
“Of course! My cookie jar. Did your team enjoy my baking?”
“The guys loved them. I’ll drop the container off later, I promise.”
“That’s fine. But thanks for stopping me to let me know.”
“Oh no, that’s not what I meant. I’m supposed to give you this.” He reached into his jeans jacket and took an envelope from its inner pocket. It was simply addressed to Bex, in Candice’s slanted handwriting.
I frowned before I could stop myself. What on earth did she have to write to me?
I took the envelope and parted ways with Kyle.
***
Ange raced outside before I’d switched off my car engine. She yanked open the passenger door and sank onto the seat.
“What’s the hurry?” I asked.
“Do you want to tackle Skye today or not? Because I checked bookings on their website and saw that they’re having a private event this afternoon. No walk-ins possible.”
“Clever of you.”
“What can I say? I’m a sage, not just growing the name-sake plant.”
“You’re a sage and a mage and I don’t know how I coped for so long without my coven.”
I snagged the last parking spot on the block, so we’d only be exposed to the rain for a minute.
Inside the tattoo parlor, the curtains to two booths were closed.
In the background I heard the whirring of the tattoo machine.
A male voice talked about the Portland Pickles and their chances in the West Coast League.
A female voice answered with “Uh-huh” in regular intervals.
I deduced baseball did not top the list of her interests.
“That’s not Skye,” Ange whispered.
My fingers itched to open Candice’s letter while we waited for what seemed an interminable length of time but could only have been five minutes, until a teenager with punk hair and goth make-up came out from behind one curtain, followed by Skye.
The henna artist stamped a loyalty card and waved the teenager goodbye before she addressed us. “Hiya, ladies. What can I do for you?” She opened a drawer. “If it’s oils or lotion you’re after –"
“Not today.” Ange gave her a sweet smile. I focused on my witchy senses. Hopefully they’d register a change if we managed to throw Skye off her guard.
“Then what is it? Another mehndi?”
Ange shook her head. She spoke softly. “Actually, we’re interested in the truth. For example, why you denied that you were in Cannon Hill last –“
She had to leave the sentence unfinished because Skye clamped her hand over Ange’s mouth.
Panic radiated from the young woman. Out loud, Skye called, “I’m taking five.”
She grabbed her coat and scarf and motioned us to follow her out the back, onto a wooden deck with a bench, a table, and an ivy-covered open shed, sheltering trash cans. The overhanging roof gave us cover too as we stood there huddling with Skye.
“Nobody can hear us,” Ange said, after a brief nod from me. “Why did you lie?”
Skye pushed out her bottom lip, like a truculent teen.
“It’s useless,” Ange said to me. “Maybe the detective will fare better.”
“No!” Skye grasped Ange’s sleeve. “He can’t know.”
“Why not? Unless you’re guilty.”
She shrank back, letting go of Ange. I sensed fear, mingled with – annoyance? Was Skye peeved that we’d rumbled her?
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell us what it is. The clock’s ticking.”
“I, like, work in Cannon Hill.”
“And?”
“It’s only two days a week but she –“ Skye jerked her head to indicate the woman inside the tattoo parlor. “They have some old beef. She’d kick me out if she knew I’m also doing mehndi for her nemesis. As if anyone could live on what she pays me for three days a week.”
“That’s why you kept it a secret?” Ange asked.
“Yeah. It’s not like it hurt anyone, right?”
Now, I sensed her fear melting away. Only the annoyance remained. I couldn’t tell who it was directed at, only that it confirmed my conviction that Skye wasn’t our killer. Yet we still had a few points to clear up with her.
“The house,” I muttered to Ange.
“You said you thought Tim and you were soulmates, with you both being into the environment and all.”
“And?”
“We’ve seen his place. It’s giving as much eco vibe as a prison,” Ange said.
Skye grimaced. “He said he’d only just bought it and that he had all these amazing plans to make it super green. As if!”
That sounded convincing.
I flashed the motel business card at Ange.
“When did you last see Tim?” she asked Skye.
“Couple of weeks ago, I think. I didn’t keep track of the guy.”
“Some people might have, to avoid him. Or to make up.”
“Not me.”
My intuition waved a red flag at me. She was lying. I moved so that Skye stood with her back to the trash cans and Ange and me flanking her.
“What if someone saw you and him together at the Sweet Haven Motel?” Ange asked.
“What? That’s crazy. Why should I meet the scumbag at all?
And believe me, Tim would rather drop dead than stay at a cheap motel.
When we started dating, he took me to Seattle for a weekend.
A five-star hotel, with chocolates on the pillow, a rainfall shower, and monogrammed velvet slippers.
” She sighed in awe at the memory. “He told me, cheap hotels were against his religion. And anyway, why would anyone stay at a motel in the middle of nowhere, when you can easily go home or book yourself a room in a decent hotel downtown?”
I waited for my witchy sense to flag another lie. It didn’t. I circled back to the earlier lie.
“We know that you saw him just before his death.”
She gulped. “I didn’t. Not really, anyway. He was there strutting around and chatting to another rich bloke, and I ducked away. That’s all.”
She sounded sincere. If I could trust my intuition, Skye was in the clear.
“Thank you for your honesty, and we won’t breathe a word of this to the detective,” I said to her.
“What about my job situation?”
Ange mimed zipping her lips. “No idea what you’re talking about. But if you’re strapped for cash, I might have another gig for you. Not too often or too many hours, but you might want to think about it.”
I was as confused as Skye.
“Would you be interested in doing mehndi for senior citizens? I think a few of the folks at Serenity Springs would love to be bedazzled.” Ange fizzed with excitement. “It would be so cool to add a bit of pizzazz to their life, and it’s a good way to compete with the fancy new retirement village.”
“The place outside of Cannon Hill, for the rich guys? Tim was super excited about that one.” Skye snorted. “Sure, I’d love to come out to Serenity Springs once in a while.”
“One last question,” I said. “Did Tim ever take pictures of you? Intimate ones?”
“No. Not that he didn’t try, but I told him I don’t do that. One moment you think it’s for your boyfriend, the next thing the photos are online.”
“Or in a photo album.” That would explain the print that Nick had discovered.
It was easy to pretend to delete a photo from your device and yet keep a copy as a trophy.
If I thought back to Nick’s vague description of Candice in the shower, her picture could have easily been taken without her knowledge.
Skye’s phone broke into a jingle. “The boss. Sorry.” She dashed back inside. Ange and I took the exit behind the shed. It led to a service alley, and around the corner of the block. The rain had stopped and a watery sun appeared.
“What did you think of our interview?” Ange asked.
“Interesting,” I said. “Very interesting. I hope Harper and Reina will come to the same conclusion.”
“Yeah. Of course, I also hope they noticed the big flaw in our plan?”
“What big flaw?”
“We said we’d meet up with them after lunch, in about ten minutes from now. Maybe you’ve eaten, but my stomach is hollow.”
“I’m sure the Blue Inn kitchen will be able to rustle up something. Or we could swing by Sweet Surprise and grab a few bites to go.”