An Uplifting Murder (17 page)

“Why would Cody go to Desiree Lingerie when he could walk into Sears and buy long underwear there?”

“I asked Laura about it,” Edith said. “She said the man had been in the war and deserved his privacy. She keeps her clients’ secrets, better than some doctors. She never would tell me. I asked her again when I saw her in jail two days ago. She turned all noble on me and said he was a brave man who didn’t need more grief.”

“Another mystery.” Josie finished the last of her cake. “This just gets more complicated. Do you think Cody is a cross-dresser? If Frankie wanted to reveal that secret, it would be a good motive for murder.”

Edith shrugged. “We get some in the ER. Mostly guys who’d been in accidents. I could never tell till we cut off their clothes and saw they didn’t have female parts. But the nurses who worked on Cody said he’s all man.”

“Do you know where Cody lives?” Josie asked.

“No, but he’s director of security for the Sale Away Store on Manchester Road.”

“That big ugly store near the failing shopping center?” Josie asked. “I don’t like to shop there.”

“Not many do, with muggers and wild dogs roaming the parking lot. Sale Away would need an army of heroes to guard that place. I don’t think they can afford enough security to keep it a safe place for shopping. We get Sale Away’s dog-bite and mugging victims at the hospital.”

“Maybe I’d better see Cody right after lunch,” Josie said.

“Better hurry,” Edith said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that Sale Away closes soon. Don’t forget your pepper spray. You have to be crazy to go there, even in daylight.”

Chapter 17

A steel wool sky scraped the flat roof of the Sale Away building. The store looked like a monster beige packing box abandoned in acres of dirty gray asphalt. Josie steered her Honda around a car-swallowing pothole and pulled in beside a salt-crusted SUV.

A long, sad howl split the cold afternoon air.

A coyote on the edge of St. Louis? Josie couldn’t tell what kind of doglike creature was wailing under a light pole, but it had a long snout, skinny legs, and yellow teeth. Two more scrawny dogs straggled across the Sale Away lot and sat by her car door, teeth bared. How was she going to get out without being attacked?

She remembered Ted’s advice: Most feral dogs are frightened of humans and will run away. Most. What if these were the exception to that rule?

Josie reached into her purse for the dog repellent Ted had given her. She hoped she wouldn’t have to spray the starving creatures.

The chilling howl was cut off by a soft
putt-putt s
ound. A golf cart trundled around the side of Sale Away and the dogs scattered.

Cody was riding to Josie’s rescue. The man couldn’t help being a hero. Josie thought he should be riding on a white horse instead of in a white golf cart. He parked his vehicle beside her car and dismounted. Josie had to restrain herself from batting her eyes and gushing, “My hero.”

Once again, Cody gave the impression of being bigger than he was. Today his blue-gray uniform jacket added the bulk. His flapped cap protected his cold-reddened face. There was nothing timid about Cody now. He spoke with a cowboy’s “aw-shucks” ease. “Sorry about that. Animal control can’t keep up with all the stray dogs. May I escort you to the door so you can shop?”

“Are you Cody?” Josie asked.

“Cody John Wayne,” he said. “At your service. My father was from Iowa. He was a big fan of two Iowans, Buffalo Bill Cody and John Wayne.”

“It makes for a manly name,” Josie said.

“I’m just lucky he didn’t admire Herbert Hoover, another Iowan,” Cody said.

“I’m not here to shop,” Josie said. “I want to talk to you. Does your store have a food court? I’d like to buy you a cup of coffee.”

“It does, but I wouldn’t drink that swill they call coffee,” he said. “I have a better brew in the thermos in my office. We can split a cup there. I’m due for a short break.”

“Deal,” Josie said. She felt guilty about taking the man’s hot coffee on a cold day, until she remembered Laura in the county jail. She had to help her former teacher. Besides, what if Cody was guilty? Josie wished he wasn’t so likable.

The inside of Sale Away was even dingier than the parking lot. Josie gave it a professional inspection. The aisles were dimly lit and needed mopping. The “on sale always!” lamps, sinks, and ceiling fans were jumbled on metal shelves. They looked like cheap knockoffs of better merchandise.

The cashiers outnumbered the customers. Josie trailed behind Cody to his office in the back of the store. Cody took off his coat as he walked. Josie checked his back for the telltale signs of a bra under his uniform shirt. Nothing. If he was a cross-dresser, it didn’t show.

The only decorations in Cody’s office were pictures of his wife and son on the walls. He hung his jacket on a hook already loaded with dark coats and sweaters. Cody sat behind his desk. Josie perched on the edge of a wobbly chair.

“How can I help you?” Cody asked.

“I’m a friend of Laura Ferguson, the manager of Desiree Lingerie in Plaza Venetia,” Josie said. “I was at the store the day you were there.”

“I don’t go to lingerie stores,” he said. “I’m a dude, in case you haven’t noticed.” A smile flickered across his face. The man was either forgetful or a skilled liar, Josie thought. He’d been in Desiree Lingerie more than once. Nurse Edith had seen him there, too.

She didn’t smile back. “You were in that store.”

“Never been in a ladies’ lingerie store in my life.” Another smile, this one clearly faked.

“You were there. I saw you,” Josie said. “You picked up a bra that had been altered for your wife. A woman complained that the blond salesperson, Trish, was helping you and she couldn’t get waited on.”

“Oh, that.” Cody made such a show of remembering, he nearly slapped himself on the forehead. “Right. I forgot. Must have wiped the painful experience out of my mind. I remember now. I was embarrassed being the only guy in a store that sold ladies’ frillies.”

“The woman who complained about you was Frankie Angela Martin. She was murdered sometime after you left the store.”

“She was?”

Josie thought he was faking more surprise. “You must have seen the TV coverage,” Josie said. “The local stations played and replayed a video of the person the police think killed her.”

“Sorry. I can’t keep those stories straight. They’re all alike: First, they show the victim’s photo, then a gray video from some store, followed by interviews with weepy family and friends. Finally, the police promise to catch the killer. Then the murder is forgotten.

“I mean no disrespect to the dead, but I can’t tell the victims apart. They’re all sad and they’re all the same. Wish I could help you, but I don’t know any Frankie.”

“But you know the manager, Laura Ferguson,” Josie said. “She needs your help.”

“That the big lady? She was nice to me when I picked up my wife’s bra, but I wouldn’t say I know her. I’m sorry she’s in trouble, but I don’t see how I can help.”

The more earnest Cody sounded, the more
LIAR
seemed to flash over his head in red neon.

“Did you go straight back to work that day after you left the lingerie shop?” Josie asked.

“That’s none of your business,” Cody said. “But the answer is no. It was my day off and my wife, Renee, declared it a ‘honey-do’ day. You know, ‘Honey, do this’ and ‘Honey, do that.’ I spent the day running errands. Picking up her bra was one of them. Why do you want to know where I was? Do you think I offed the lady because she was rude?”

“I am trying to help Laura,” Josie said. “I owe her. She helped me when I needed it. Now a customer at her store has been murdered and Laura has been arrested for killing her. I think she’s innocent.”

“I’m sorry your friend is in jail,” Cody said. “But I don’t know anything about a murder. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m working here single-handed today. I have to get back to protecting customers.”

He stood up and pulled his uniform jacket off the hook, herding Josie toward the door. She caught a brief flash of black and white as the coats and other clothing swung on the overloaded hook.

Josie had no choice but to leave. She never did get that coffee.

Chapter 18

“What do you think of my hair?” Amelia asked.

Josie hadn’t noticed her daughter’s new style. Jane had picked up Amelia at school, and the girl had holed up in her room, IMing her friends. Josie had said hello and gone into a frenzy of dusting, polishing, and vacuuming to prepare for Ted’s visit.

Amelia had tracked her mother down in the kitchen, where Josie was arranging peanut butter cookies on a pretty plate.

“Mom? Do you like it?”

Josie’s ten-year-old daughter had slicked her rich brown hair into a sophisticated French roll. Amelia assumed a pout suitable for a thirtysomething siren and twirled on the living room carpet. “Do I look older?”

Josie stopped and studied her daughter. “Much older. With that hairstyle, I’d say you were pushing eleven.”

“Mom!” Amelia drew out the word to show her displeasure. “Be serious. Do you like my hair up?”

“Maybe in a few years,” Josie said. “I like the way you wear it now—chin-length.”

Josie wouldn’t admit it, but she was startled by how adult Amelia looked with an updo. She caught a glimpse of the woman Amelia would soon be. Her daughter looked older—and ridiculously young at the same time. Josie wanted her little girl back, at least for a while.

She kissed Amelia and said, “It’s fun to experiment with your hair, sweetheart, but I like you just the way you are.”

“What about Ted?” Amelia asked. “Do you think he’ll like this style?”

“Ask him,” Josie said. “He’ll be here shortly. He’s bringing white chili with chicken and homemade corn bread. Your peanut butter cookies will be dessert.”

“Yay!” Amelia danced around the kitchen.

“There,” Josie said, half to herself. “The cookies are ready. I have six bottles of Schlafly Pilsner cooling in the fridge. I hope beer brewed in Maplewood will go well with Ted’s white chili. Now, if you’ll set the table, please.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. Amelia loved Ted’s visits.

Josie needed a few moments alone. She’d been racing around since she got home, hoping to distract herself with cleaning. It didn’t work. She felt shell-shocked and confused after her encounter with Cody. She still suspected the hero was lying, but she couldn’t quite believe he’d killed Frankie. Cody had said he wouldn’t kill someone for being rude, and he was right. At a store like Sale Away, he must encounter rude people every day. Maybe Ted could help her figure Cody out. She needed a man’s perspective.

Josie changed into a crisp white blouse and jeans and put on fresh lipstick. She’d just combed her glossy brown hair when she heard a car crunching on the snow at the curb, then a door slam, a short bark, and heavy booted feet on her porch.

Harry growled and crawled under the couch.

Josie opened the door to a flurry of cold kisses, warm hugs, and friendly yaps. Ted was juggling a heavy cardboard box and a curly-coated dog.

“Take Stuart Little before I drop the chili.” Ted handed off the dog to Josie. “I carried him so he wouldn’t get muddy paws on your floor.”

The shih tzu was the color of whipped cream and caramel with chocolate brown eyes.

“Stuart Little, we meet at last,” Josie said. “He feels so light. Hardly bigger than Harry.”

Josie heard another growl come from under her couch.

“Eleven pounds of personality.” Ted set the box with the chili pot on the kitchen counter.

Stuart Little wagged his feathery tail at Josie and she scratched his ears.