Bodice of Evidence (6 page)

“Yes.” I nodded. “You said that.” I couldn't help feeling a little relieved that he wasn't going to ask me out. No man asked a woman out after comparing her to his daughter.

“You told me you broke up with that guy—what was his name?”

“Bobby. Yes, we'd been dating since high school, but it wasn't going anywhere so I broke it off.”

“How are you doing with that? Are you okay?”

“Is this what this is about?” I shifted. Maybe I had it wrong. Maybe he was going to ask me out. Not that he wasn't a bad-looking guy. There was something appealing in his confidence and bad-guy-fighting demeanor.

“It's about my daughter, Emily.” He got up and paced. “I need some advice.”

“Oh, sure.” I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

“She's a nurse anesthetist, lives in California—too darn far away if you ask me.”

“She sounds smart and successful,” I said as encouragingly as I could.

“Exactly,” he said, and turned to me. “But she's living with this loser who treats her bad. When you told me about your guy . . . what was his name?”

“Bobby.”

“Yes, Bobby,” he said. “When I told you that you reminded me of Emily, it was especially true when you talked about that guy.”

“Oh, dear.”

He sat back down on the edge of his desk and leaned toward me. “What I want to know is how to encourage her to stand up for herself and do what you did.”

“You want her to break up with him?”

“Yes, she deserves better. The guy hasn't had a job in two years. All he does is lie around her apartment playing video games. It's ridiculous.” He crossed his arms. “I tried to tell her, but she refuses to listen. So I thought—”

“You thought maybe I could help you,” I finished.

“Yeah.” His shoulders slumped. “Was there anything your parents did that helped you to see the light where that Bobby guy was concerned?”

“No,” I said, then shook my head and sent him a wry smile. “My parents loved Bobby.”

“Seriously?” He looked aghast.

“That's what I thought, anyway,” I said as I fiddled with my purse. “Until I broke up with him. Then they told me what they really thought.”

“They hated him.”

“Let's just say they thought I could do better. When I asked them why they didn't say anything, my mom said it was because they trusted me to figure things out on my own.”

“Oh.” His expression fell.

“Listen, maybe this guy isn't so bad. I'd be happy to give you some perspective. What don't you like about him, besides the job thing? It's a tough job market out there. I should know. I was downsized recently myself.”

“But you've started your own business,” he pointed out. “As far as I can tell, this guy doesn't even attempt to look for a job. The kid is supposed to be an IT expert. I gave him the business card of a buddy of mine who runs a security firm out there. He never called him.”

“Yeah, that sounds bad. What did your daughter say about it?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “She defends the guy. She says he doesn't do security IT. I told her that Martin could connect him to others in the community, but she said her guy was fine. He had some huge severance package that he was living off of and he didn't need my connections. Plus he has some buddies in the business, so that was the end of that.”

“When was that?”

“A year and a half ago,” he grumbled. “I don't get it. If he had connections, why not get a new job and have both the severance and the new job?”

“So the lack of a job is the biggest thing bothering you about him?”

“There's more to it.” He shrugged and moved back to his chair. “Let's call it a cop's gut instinct.” He sat down. “You figured things out about that Bobby guy on your own, right?”

I smiled softly. “Yes, but I wish I had done it sooner.”

“But your folks didn't tell you . . .”

“No.” I shook my head. “They knew it would make me want to stay with him longer. It's a kid thing . . . No, it's more than that. I have girlfriends who hate it when you tell them their guy isn't good enough for them. It's sort of insulting, you know?”

“Right.”

I stood. “She sounds like a smart girl. You raised her well. Be patient with her. If her boyfriend is as bad as Bobby, she'll leave him on her own.”

“You're probably right,” he said. “Thanks for the talk.”

“Hey, no problem. We're friends, right?”

“Yes. Like I said, you remind me of her. Stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Okay,” I said. My phone rang as I walked out of the police station. It was my sister, Felicity. “Hello?”

“Vidalia from Bridal Dreams called,” Felicity sounded out of breath. “She apologized for no one being in the shop when we got there yesterday. Pepper, she wants me to reschedule my dress appointment. That's weird, don't you think? I mean, weddings and murders don't really go together.”

“Yes, that is odd,” I agreed and left the building so that
no one could overhear me. “Especially since Detective Murphy told me that it was her mother, Eva, who was murdered in the alley.”

“Yikes. So no, I'd rather go back to one of the other shops and get my dress.”

“Wait,” I said. “Make the appointment.”

“Why?” Felicity sounded horrified.

“I want to ask her some questions.”

“Pepper, you don't have to investigate this.”

“I know that, but I'm the one who found her mother. I feel responsible.”

“Pepper—”

“It's only a few questions. Think about it. If Mom were murdered, wouldn't you want someone to care enough to help find her killer? Besides, this murder must be hurting her business. I know what that feels like. Can you imagine losing your mother and your income? We should go and show our support.”

“Fine, but I'm not buying a dress there.”

“I'm not saying you should,” I agreed. “I'm free this evening or tomorrow morning. Whichever works out for you.”

“Pepper, give her some time. I'm sure she has a funeral to attend to and all kinds of other details.”

“Then next week, whatever, as long as it's soon. It is easier to solve a murder in the first forty-eight hours, or so I've heard.”

“You watch too much television,” Felicity accused. “I am not making the appointment in the first forty-eight hours. It's too creepy.”

“Okay, but don't wait too long.”

Felicity sighed loudly. “Fine, I'll call her back and let you know when the appointment is, but I'm not dragging Mom into this. She's had enough of a shock for one week.”

“Thanks, Felicity. I love you.”

“You remember this when I make you wear the plaid bridesmaid dress,” she threatened.

I laughed as I hung up. I knew better. My sister wouldn't want anyone to look bad in the pictures of her big day. Not even her nosy
sister.

The first forty-eight hours came and went without even a peep from Detective Murphy. I was busy with Mary's movie-themed engagement and Alexander's Big Leap—which sounded much better than Big Jump or Big Plunge.

I was in Mom's kitchen snatching veggies off the appetizer platter while she put the finishing touches on dinner. Mom and Felicity and I were supposed to powwow about wedding plans, and I never turned down a free dinner.

“Gage's contact at the Music Box Theatre was a dream,” I said, and chewed on a carrot dipped in ranch sauce. “He loved the idea that the proposal could go viral and promote the theatre.”

“The Music Box Theatre, that's the one that does all the film festivals and independent movies and such, right?”

“Yes.” I was impressed. “I had no idea you knew about the Music Box.”

“I read the theater section of the
Tribune
,” Mom said.

“What's going on?” Felicity asked as she came in the back door. She wiped her feet and took off her fall jacket and hung it on a peg next to the door.

“Mom's a hipster,” I teased, and snagged a piece of celery.

Mom frowned and pulled the tray out of my reach.

“I knew that,” Felicity said, and patted Mom on the back as she took a carrot off the tray. Mom sighed and ignored the infraction.

I made a face at my sister and whispered, “Suck up.”

“Dinner's ready,” Mom called to Dad as she put the veggie tray on the dining room table. “Go wash up.”

We all trudged off to wash our hands. I glanced to make sure that Mom wasn't behind us, then whispered to my sister, “Did you make the dress appointment?”

Felicity soaped up her hands. “Yes, and it was hard. The woman practically begged me to come back in and give her a chance.” She ran water over her hands as I soaped mine. “She apologized again and said that she was only out for a short break when we got there. She'd walked down the block to that coffee place we were at, remember?”

“Sure,” I said, and ran water over my hands as Felicity dried hers. “Strange, I don't remember seeing her.”

“We wouldn't remember if we had. We hadn't ever met her before, silly. Anyway, she said she chitchatted with the
baristas for a while, had a cup of coffee at a table by herself, and then bought more, for herself and her mother.”

“That explains two of the coffee cups in her carrier,” I said as I towel dried my hands. “But who buys coffee to go after you had a cup in the café? And what about that third cup I saw?”

“I don't know, I didn't ask. She sounded so distressed on the phone. She kept saying she knew that they had a four o'clock appointment, but her mom said that she'd handle it alone. So, she didn't hurry.”

“Who didn't hurry?” Dad asked as he stepped in the bathroom to wash up.

“No one,” I said at the same time that Felicity answered.

“This girl who missed our dress appointment.”

“Which is it?” Dad asked. “No one or a shop girl?” He gave me a serious glare under his white brows.

“The shop girl,” I admitted, and slinked out of the bathroom.

Dad harrumphed and turned on the water. I pushed my sister out into the kitchen. “When's the appointment?”

“Friday at one.”

“Good, I'll be there.”

“Be where?” Mom asked. I jumped at the sound of her voice. How did she get behind me?

“At the dress appointment the shop girl wasn't on time for last week, I'm guessing.” Dad kissed Mom's cheek. “Let's eat. You girls get started talking wedding out here and my dinner will get cold.”

“Well, we certainly can't have that,” Mom said, and urged us all into the dining room.

I gave Felicity the eye. She shrugged as if to say,
What is done is done.

Maybe not. Maybe I could distract Mom.

After we said grace and Dad got his meat and potatoes, I filled a third of my plate with salad and passed the bowl to my sister. “I have this client, Alexander, who wants to propose to his girlfriend on a parachute jump.”

“That's unusual,” Mom said politely as she filled her plate with two vegetable servings, one protein and one starch. It was the diet she had learned in high school, and to this day she swore by it.

“Who would want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane?” Dad asked.

“Apparently Alexander's girlfriend, but it's not the jump that's the issue. It's what to do with the family and friends.”

“Oh, I certainly hope he doesn't expect everyone to jump out of a plane,” Mom said, her fork frozen halfway to her roast beef.

“No, I got him to agree that that was a bad idea. The problem is that he still wants them all involved. But if they all go up in the plane, it looks suspicious and will ruin the surprise. But if he asks in midair, then no one will be there to witness.”

“You could have him wear one of those helmet cams,” Felicity said as she downed her green beans.

“I tossed around that idea,” I said. “I could stream it to a television screen for the family to watch live.”

“That's all nice and good,” Dad said as he took a second helping of roast beef. “But that's not exactly being involved.”

I scrunched up my face and sighed. “No, it's not.”

“What if you have the family gather at the landing site and hold up cards—you know like the ones they use to spell stuff out at football games?” Felicity asked.

“Oh, that's good,” I said. “They could all be on the ground with a card for her name and then a card for ‘Will you' and one for ‘marry me?' Both Alexander and his lady love would be wearing helmet cams so we get both points of view—hers when she sees the signage and his when he gets the answer. They can touch, hold hands, and then float to earth where, surrounded by family and friends, he can present the ring.”

“Oh, that sounds perfect!” Felicity clapped.

“It is rather romantic in a group sort of way,” Mom said. “Much better than him trying to slip a ring on her hand several thousand feet in the air. Can you imagine what would happen if he dropped it?”

“Oh, no.” Felicity's eyes went wide. “They'd never find it.”

“Someone else would get hit in the head with it and would either feel cursed or blessed,” Dad said. “Probably cursed. A rock hurtled at your head' s gotta hurt, no matter how small.”

“Dad!”

“Frank!”

“Daddy!”

We all chided him at the same time and he grinned. “Well, it would. Diamonds are the world's hardest rocks.”

“Not if it hit your stubborn old head,” Mom muttered. Felicity and I giggled. Dad winked. “It isn't going to happen. Pepper will have the event well in hand.”

“Maybe I'll suggest that his best man hold the ring until they land and he goes down on one knee,” I said.

“Good idea,” Felicity said.

“Good, now that that is discussed, when is the dress appointment?” Mom asked.

I bit my lip and quickly stuffed my mouth with salad so I wouldn't have to say anything.

“What dress appointment?” Felicity tried to give Mom the innocently blinky look, but Mom was too much on the ball to fall for that.

“The one you girls were talking about in the bathroom without me.”

“Were we talking about a dress appointment?” Felicity asked me.

I shrugged and continued to chew.

“You were,” Dad said, and eyed Felicity over his water glass.

“Oh, that appointment,” she said with a guilty flush.

“Yes, that appointment,” Mom said, and broke a rule by crossing her arms on the table. “When and where is it, and why don't you want me to go?”

“I haven't decided if I'm going,” Felicity said, and sipped her water.

“Why not?” Mom drew her dark brows together. “Pepper?”

“Don't ask me,” I said, and forked up more salad. “I want to go to the appointment.”

“Felicity?”

“It's the daughter of the woman we found murdered in the alley. She wants us to come back. She told me her mother started the business and she wants to continue with it in her mother's memory.”

“Oh, that's sweet. You should go.”

“Mom, no. I don't want my wedding associated with a murder. It was bad enough that my engagement was. It was unbearable when Warren was arrested. I don't want that memory.”

“I understand, dear,” Mom said, and patted Felicity's hand. “But you might be able to get a really good deal.”

Leave it to my mom to equate murder and misfortune with a sale. I bit back a sigh.

“Never hurts to look,” Dad said, and dug into his beef. “You haven't found the dress you want yet, right?”

I wasn't surprised when Dad sided with Mom. They were paying for the dress. The thought made me smile.

“What?” Felicity asked me. “I already know why you want me to go.”

“Why do you want her to go?” Mom asked.

“She wants to question Vidalia and see if she can help Detective Murphy solve another murder.” Felicity made a face at me.

“Is that true?” Mom asked.

“It's a great excuse,” I said, and shrugged. “It seems weird that she went to a coffee shop, sat alone for a while, drank coffee, and then came back with three cups—just in time for the police to find her mother dead in the alley.”

“Oh, dear, you think she did it!” Felicity wailed. “Now I can't go in there. If I buy my dress from a killer, it has to be bad luck.”

“No, no.” I patted my sister's hand. “I don't think she did it. If she did, she wouldn't be begging for us to come back, would she?

That gave Felicity pause. “No, I guess not.”

“See, it'll be all right.” I put my arm around her shoulder and gave her a hug. “I only want to find out why she had three cups of coffee. Maybe someone else was supposed to be there. Someone that may know more about what happened to her mother.”

“That does make sense,” Mom said. “Come on, keep the appointment. We'll all go.”

“Are you sure you want to go back to the scene of the crime?” Felicity asked Mom. “I don't want you to get another bad shock. It can't be good for you.”

Mom laughed loudly. “I might be old, but I'm not that old,” she said. “I promise I'm not hiding any heart problems. I just saw Doctor Eckhart. I'm fit as a fiddle for a woman my age. I'm sure I can handle a dress shop.”

“If you're sure,” Felicity said.

“I'm sure,” Mom said. “And I promise, I won't ask you to buy a dress—no matter how deeply discounted. Unless you love it and it's the perfect dress. Isn't that right, Frank?”

“Right,” Dad said. “What's for dessert?”

“It's crème brûlée, and you can wait,” Mom chided him and reached over and patted his tummy before turning back to Felicity. “So, it's settled. You'll keep the appointment and we'll all go. It may help the poor girl feel as if she is moving forward in her life, and perhaps Pepper can discover something to help Detective Murphy.”

“Fine, but if I feel the least bit weird about the dress, I'm taking it off and leaving. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly,” Mom and I said in unison.

“Good, now that's settled. Let's bring on the dessert.” Dad grinned and I had the feeling Felicity's dress shopping was going to get a whole lot more
interesting.