"Supposedly he regretted getting married and that he planned to leave Honey."
"After three months?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'm not buying it either," he said.
"So, did she kill him during the meeting?"
If she had, how did he end up in the tree? "Did you find blood in his townhouse? And wouldn't killing him there mean it was premeditated? I mean, most people don't usually carry around hammers. Plus, if she'd killed him why not just tell everyone that she'd fired him and that's why he hadn't come back instead of perpetuating the story that he simply walked off the job?"
"Whoa, there!" He held up his hands. "We don't have all the answers yet. But we found her prints on the hammer used to kill him and blood matching Joey's blood type was found in her car and on some of her clothes."
He'd ignored my initial concerns, but his evidence was pretty damning. The prints were easily explained, of course, but the blood... "Did she confess?"
"Denies everything except her affair with him. She has no explanation as to how the blood got in her car and on her clothes and claims someone is trying to frame her."
Was it possible? Or simply the only defense she had? "And the townhouse? Did you find blood there?"
"Haven't found the crime scene yet. That's what he's doing here," Kevin said, motioning toward Cain's car. "We don't need the crime scene to prosecute her, but it would help. She had means, motive, and opportunity. This case is signed, sealed, and delivered."
"Did the coroner give you a time of death?" I was trying to nail down timeframes in my mind.
"Between three and five p.m. on Wednesday."
Perry's voice floated through my head, reminding me that Mario might have actually been the last one to see Joey alive. He'd been at the townhouse until three. Then there was also the mystery man Mario overheard arguing with Joey. I bit my cheek wondering if I should tell Kevin that bit. I didn't want to rat out a friend if I didn't have to.
Kevin absently looked into the back yard. "But we know he was alive at three forty-five. He answered a phone call from a pay phone around the corner from his house."
I let out a breath. That let Mario off the hook—he'd been home with Perry by then.
"Who was on the phone? Do you know?"
"I'd bet my badge it was Joey's killer, luring him to his death. We're checking it out. The more nails in Delphine's coffin, the better."
"I'm still not convinced she did it. I mean, he probably had other enemies. Some who might have stopped by his place and argued with him, then lured him to his death. Delphine is easy to frame, especially because a lot of people knew she had argued with him about Honey. Plus, why else put Joey's body in the tree here? Maybe someone was trying to tie the death to Delphine's job site."
Dark eyebrows snapped downward. "Do you know something you want to share, Nina?"
Damn! He could always see right through me. "I just think you should look a little deeper into that angle." I peeled myself off the bumper. "That's all."
He clenched his jaw.
I smiled.
He clenched harder.
I shrugged. "I'm just saying."
"Well, stop."
"You're cranky." I gestured toward the house. "The back yard... When can I get to work? When can Mario and Perry get back to the renovations?"
"We'll know more in a few hours," he ground out. "I'll let you know."
"Fine," I said.
He was shaking his head as he walked into the house. I watched him go inside before I turned toward home. I hadn't taken two steps before I heard someone call my name.
"Hey, Ms. Quinn!"
I spun and found Cain Monahan jogging toward me. As he neared, he slipped his sunglasses back on.
Damn.
Kevin watched our every move from behind Mario and Perry's picture window.
I shaded my eyes against the sun. "Yeah?" I squeaked.
He stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a business card holder. He flicked it open, pulled out a card. "Just in case you have any more questions."
He gave a nod, turned, and went back into the house.
I wrapped my hand tightly around the card. I had a million questions, but I didn't know if he held the answers.
Kevin still stared.
For kicks, I blew him a kiss before I turned toward home.
Chapter Eleven
Mr. Cabrera waited for me on the front porch. Gracie wandered around, sniffing the bushes.
"Well?" he said. "What'd he say? Why's he over there?"
I lowered myself next to him. "He's checking the house and yard, trying to figure out exactly where Joey Miller was killed."
Mr. Cabrera whistled. "That'd be something, another murder happening in that house."
I wasn't worried. Mario and Perry had been home during the time frame Joey had been killed—locked in the house alone. And they would have heard or seen something if he'd been bludgeoned right outside their back door.
Next door at the haunted house, the neighborhood Realtor, Jennie Nix, pulled up with a couple in tow. They stepped out of the car, pointed at the crime scene tape across the street and got back into the car and drove away.
"That house'll never sell."
"Until I tell my parents buy it," I said.
His eyes widened. "You wouldn't!"
"I might." I really wouldn't, but he didn't need to know that.
"This neighborhood has gone to—"
"Seed. Yes, I know. You've told me."
He grumbled but didn't say anything else.
Gracie hopped up the steps and nudged my leg with her nose. I rubbed her ears and glanced across the street. Cain passed by the window, and I couldn't believe how much he resembled Seth Thiessen.
I had to keep reminding myself that Seth was dead.
I'd gone to his funeral.
Letting out a breath, I realized that the key to putting the Cain situation behind me was to see his eyes. The eyes would tell me everything.
I glanced at the card in my hand. The coroner's office was located in the county's municipal building—the same place Ana worked. All I had to do was pop in to see her on Monday and take a little detour to Cain's office...
A loud truck rumbled down the street. My truck. I watched as it swerved into Kit's driveway. The bed of my Ford was loaded with furniture and full black trash bags. Ana honked and stuck her head out the window. "Give me an hour!"
Kit's Hummer pulled up at the curb, an armoire sticking out the back window, a plastic bag tied to a drawer pull blowing about. Kit was particular about his car, and I imagine it took some finagling on Ana's part to get him to use it as a moving van.
I smiled, feeling happy for them. They were pretty perfect for each other.
"She sure has him wrapped around her finger, doesn't she?" Mr. Cabrera said, sounding disgusted.
"I don't think he minds all that much."
"On the surface, perhaps. But underneath he's probably mourning his freedom. The power to do what he wants, when he wants with no one to answer to but himself."
I gave him a sideways glance. "Or...he's happy to have someone to come home to every night, someone to share his problems with, someone to listen to his jokes, and who makes him laugh. Someone who loves every tattoo on his body, who smiles at him like there is no other man in the world, because to her there isn't. And he knows how lucky he is that she chose him. Just as she knows how lucky she is that he chose her."
Bushy white eyebrows shot up. "Pah. Next thing I know you're going to tell me that they'll live happily ever after."
"Maybe they will. It's been known to happen from time to time."
"Or they won't. And then the heartbreak will be worse when one of them leaves."
"Not everyone leaves."
His voice was hoarse as he said, "The good ones do."
I turned to face him. Suddenly his reluctance to get married made all kinds of sense. He'd loved his wife dearly, but she'd been gone a long time now. "But don't you think
it's worth trying? Better to have loved and lost..."
"My head hurts. I'm going to go lie down."
"Forty-five minutes!" Ana yelled.
"What are you two doing anyway?" he asked as he stood up.
"Shopping," I lied.
"You might want to think about getting your nails done while you're out. Men like pretty nails, and you haven't had a date in a while."
"What happened to not believing in happily ever after?"
"I'm not talking about you gettin' married. I'm talking about how you're becoming a spinster. You gotta live a little." He did a little shimmy shake.
"Am I a catch?" I joked.
"Let's not go that far," he said. "After all, you're the corpse whisperer. A man's gotta have his head checked to get into a long-term relationship with you."
"Gee, thanks." I scooped up Gracie, gave Mr. Cabrera the Ceceri Evil Eye as I passed by him, and went inside. I headed straight upstairs and set Gracie on the make-shift doggy bed I'd made for her out of old towels.
As I turned on my laptop, I absently wondered where Maria, Perry, and Mario had gotten off to. I didn't think their meeting was supposed to last so long. On that same note, I wondered when Nate was going to swing by and pick up Maria. She was getting entirely too comfortable here.
Perry's mysterious package sat on my nightstand. I gave it another shake but couldn't tell what was inside.
I didn't want to think about him having a possible stalker, so I stared at the search engine I'd called up on my computer. I typed in Delphine's name and found a few pages of entries. Mostly reviews of her company—the majority of them surprisingly favorable. Plum had said they were an honest company, but I'd had my doubts simply because of their family history. I silently sent them an apology.
I searched for information on Joey Miller, but it was such a common name that I didn't find much of any use—there was too much to wade through. I didn't even know how old he was. I guesstimated mid-thirties, but I'd need his actual birth date or social security number to narrow a search.
I drummed my fingers on the edge of the computer and finally lost the battle within myself to search for what I really wanted to know.
I typed in Seth Thiessen + plane crash.
Unsurprisingly, there wasn't much information. The crash had been twenty years ago, after all. The best articles I found were from the Cincinnati Enquirer. Summed up, four people died in a private plane crash in northern Kentucky, shortly after liftoff from Lunken airfield. The FAA was investigating the deaths of the Thiessen family. Dad Eric, mom Annette, son Seth, and daughter Ashley.
Eric Thiessen had owned a German pub, The Black Fox, just north of here, and Annette had been the secretary at a suburban elementary school. Seth, a sophomore, had been a popular student at Freedom High School, and his younger sister Ashley, a freshman, was an All-State gymnast.
My heart clenched a bit at the memories. Of Mrs. Thiessen's smile. Of the way Seth always rubbed my head. Of my awe at how Ashley could tumble and do flips. I hadn't known Mr. Thiessen well—he'd always been busy working.
Leaning back on my pillows, I wished I could remember more from that time. But I'd been young and happily delusional about how suddenly life could change.
I gave myself a good shake and typed Joey's wife's name into the search engine. Fortunately, her name was unusual and there was only one Honey Miller listed in the Cincinnati area.
A few clicks led me to Honey's Twitter page. She had a lot to say about her retail job at a local mall and the colorful characters she met every day. Nothing about Joey at all. And she also used proper grammar, so I concluded she was educated—something I wouldn't have guessed by looking at her. I supposed that's what I got for judging people by their trampy covers.
It was obvious what Joey had seen in her, but what had she seen in him? He was at least ten years older than her, creepy, and a slimeball. Not exactly husband material.
I decided Honey was a good place for Ana and me to start our search into Joey's death.
Because Mr. Cabrera was right. Crimes of passion were common and it seemed to me that Honey Miller would have just as much motive to want Joey dead as Delphine.
Maybe more.
And framing her husband's mistress for the crime? Icing on the cake.
I also couldn't rule out the rest of Delphine's crew. All had beefs with Joey. All had the afternoon off from work. And I could picture all of them bashing Joey's head in.
I had a gruesome imagination.
I did quick searches for Plum, Bear, and Ethan and couldn't find much of anything. Depending on how Ana and I did today, I might have to get Tam involved. She was a computer whiz and could uncover all kinds of information with only a few clicks.
I heard a car door slam and voices rise in a heated cacophony.
Leaving a sleeping Gracie behind, I headed downstairs just as Maria waddled through the front door, Perry and Mario hot on her heels.
"You're impossible," Perry was saying.
"Me?" Mario countered. "You're the one who wants the gauche seven thousand dollar gilded mirror. It has golden lion heads on it. Lions! Hello, Liberace!"
Perry gasped. "That mirror is perfection. Maria, tell him."
"It is stunning," she said. "But perhaps not everyone's taste."
My sister, being tactful? What had they done to her?
"Liberace stunning," Mario said in a biting tone.
Perry folded his arms. "Admit it, the price tag is your true issue with it."
"What are you trying to say?" Mario asked with narrowed eyes.
Mr. Cabrera poked his head over the back of the couch. "I think he's saying you're cheap."
I threw him another evil eye. He was racking them up today.
He shrugged and lowered himself back down.
"Is that what you're saying?" Mario pressed Perry.
Perry said, "If the penny-pinching fits..."
Mario seethed. Steam practically shot out of his ears.
I couldn't blame him. He wasn't cheap, necessarily. He liked nice things. He was just more practical than Perry.
"I take it the meeting didn't go well," I said.
Maria lowered herself into the recliner. There was exhaustion in her eyes but also excitement, too. She loved being in the thick of things—something she'd missed out on while being on bed rest.
"That depends," Mario said. "If you enjoy a home decorated like a brothel then the meeting went perfectly."
"A high-class brothel," Perry clarified.
"I don't see why we need a decorator at all," Mario said.
"Cheap, cheap, cheap," Mr. Cabrera sang, and I wondered if he'd been drinking again.
"Impossible!" Perry shouted again.
"Boys, boys. You both just need to learn to compromise a bit," Maria said, sounding like the voice of reason. "Like Nate and I did."
Like Nate, she meant. As far as I knew she'd never compromised a day in her life.
"Speaking of," I said, "when is Nate getting here?"
Her blue gaze flicked to me. "Tomorrow. Monday at the latest."
"What?" I cried. Perhaps a little louder than I intended.
"Have some compassion, Nina," she said. "He's on assignment. There were tornadoes in northern Kentucky and he's down there helping with the cleanup."
"Yeah, Nina," Mr. Cabrera said.
I leaned over the couch and peered down at him. "What's that? You're ready to go home? Let me help you pack."
He pulled the covers over his head.
"That's what I thought."
Maria snapped her fingers at me. "Can you bring me a water?"
I sucked in a deep breath and headed for the fridge.
"If not for me and my frugality," Mario was saying, "we wouldn't have half the nice things we do. We wouldn't have a house!"
"And if not for your cheapness, then I'd have all the nice things I want."
I handed Maria a water bottle and noticed how Mario had fallen silent. I didn't blame him—Perry ha
d hit a little below the belt with that comment.
Mr. Cabrera tugged the blanket off his face. "Nina, don't forget to give Perry the present that came for him."
I groaned inwardly. I hadn't warned Mr. Cabrera not to say anything about it.
"Another one?" Mario asked.
Perry rubbed his hands together. "Where is it?"
"My room," I said reluctantly.
Perry took the stairs two at a time, and I glared at Mr. Cabrera. He disappeared under his covers again.
"What's this about presents?" Maria asked.
No one answered her.
"Helloooo?" she said.
I gave her the evil eye, too.
"Hmmph," she said, clamping her lips together.
Perry was back in a flash and already unwrapping the present as he walked. "A Hermés tie! Ooh la la!"
Mario huffed, stormed past Perry and me, and stomped up the stairs. The door to Riley's door slammed and suddenly Gracie's barking filled the air.
"You should probably take her out, Nina," Maria said.
I clenched my fists.
"You're so gorgeous," Perry cooed to his tie.
I looked between them all, feeling my frustration rising. "You," I pointed at Maria, "can learn to say please and thank you." I spun on Perry. "And you are acting a little spoiled. Material things aren't what's important in life, which you'll soon learn on your own if you keep this up. Go upstairs and fix this with Mario right now. And you," I said, yanking off Mr. Cabrera's blanket, "need to get off my couch and get it through your thick bed-head that you're about to lose Ursula for good. And you can either be miserable and mourn her now or be with her for the next God-knows-how-many years – because you know she'll outlive all of us – and be happy as drunken clams together. Fix. It. And don't dilly-dally."
They all stared at me.
Finally, Perry said, "Drunken clams?"
"Argh!" Jamming my feet into my flip-flops, I grabbed my purse and walked out the front door.
Chapter Twelve
Ana handed me a Twizzler. "So you just left them all there?"
We sat in Ana's hatchback in a parking lot across the street from Joey Miller's townhouse, an end unit in a small complex, discussing my earlier outburst toward my house guests. "I couldn't take another second of them."