Book Club Killer (6 page)

Chapter 13

Skinny Skeleton Tattoos was located
on a side street around the corner from a row of thrift shops and nail salons.
It was housed in a narrow storefront behind a door painted with glossy black
enamel. Thick black velvet drapes hung in the windows, creating a shadowy interior
that smelled of ink and cigarettes. When Sonja and I stepped through the
entrance, we were greeted by a woman sitting behind a small counter. She had
bright blue hair, intricate sleeve tattoos and a scowl that would’ve made the
Grim Reaper proud.

“We’re here to see Carter,” I announced.

The woman swiveled on her stool. “Got
an appointment?”

“It’ll only take a minute,” I
answered, ignoring the rhetorical retort. “We just need to ask him a couple of
questions.”

“Well, he generally sees people
who’re on the schedule,” the woman said. “And most of Carter’s clients are
referrals or somebody he already knows. But if you’d like to leave a—”

“Brent Schneider sent us,” blurted
Sonja. “That’s a referral, right?”

The woman’s eyes shifted to Sonja.
“Brent from Rusty Red’s?”

We both nodded.

“Why didn’t you say so?” With a
heavy sigh, the woman got to her feet and shuffled across the black and white
tile floor. She pushed aside the dark velvet curtain hanging over a doorway in
the middle of the rear wall. “You got visitors,” she called through the
opening. “Couple of chicks that know Brent.”

As she returned to her perch behind
the counter, the woman smiled. I noticed that one of her front teeth was
adorned with a gold cap. I was thinking about how much something like that might
cost when a heavyset bald guy appeared from behind the dark curtain.

“I’m Carter,” he boomed in a deep
gravelly voice. “What can I do you for?”

Sonja stepped forward. “My name is
Sonja Anderson. You know my brother Warren.”

Carter lifted his chin slightly.
“Yeah, I recognize you. We met a long time ago, but you obviously don’t
remember.”

Sonja’s face went blank. “When was
that?”

Carter dismissed the question with
a smirk. “What’s up?” he said. “Your brother’s not here if you’re looking for
him.”

“We know that,” Sonja said. “I
wanted to ask if you hired him to deliver a package on Saturday afternoon.”

The bald man smiled. “Does this
place look like UPS or something?”

There was a cold, jagged edge in his
voice. As if he’d spent a lifetime working to project an aloof attitude that he
perceived as being cool or rebellious.

“No,” I said, focusing to keep my
voice steady. “It looks like a tattoo parlor, and we—”

“Nobody calls it a parlor,” Carter
snapped. “Are you Warren’s sister, too?”

I shook my head. “I’m a friend of
Sonja’s,” I answered. “And we’re both trying to find out how Warren got
involved in a murder.”

Carter flinched slightly. “What was
that?” He rubbed one hand across the gleaming dome above his dark, hooded eyes.
“I could swear you just said a word I don’t ever like to hear.”

“Someone had Warren deliver a
package to my house on Saturday,” I explained. “It contained dip that had been
poisoned. We want to know who hired Warren and why they killed our friend.”

He shook his head and blinked a few
times. “You know it’s still kinda early in the day,” he grumbled. “I’m not sure
that I’m following you.”

“What’s so complicated about it?”
Sonja asked. “Brent told us that you—”

“Brent’s a lying sack of donkey
crap,” Carter interrupted. “Whatever he said about your brother is something
you should talk to him about. He does a good job sending tattoo referrals, but
the other stuff is nothing I know about.”

“He seemed pretty confident,” said
Sonja. “Like you knew who hired Warren.”

“Most liars do come across as
self-assured.” Carter walked over and pulled a tissue from a box on the
counter. He used it to wipe the film of sweat from his bald head.

“So you don’t know anything about
who might’ve paid my brother to make the delivery?” asked Sonja.

“I don’t know nothing about nothing,”
Carter replied, wadding the tissue and dropping it into a wire mesh trash
basket. “And I’m not really all that excited that you two just wandered in here
asking me questions.”

“I’m worried about my brother,”
Sonja said.

“And we want to find out who’s
responsible for our friend’s murder,” I added. “We won’t even mention your
name, okay?”

“Ah, now that makes me feel all
warm and fuzzy inside,” Carter said with a grin. “Like we’re suddenly best buds
or something.”

“You don’t have to be so rude,” I
said in a firm, steady voice. “We know that you don’t know us. But you we’re
also aware that you know Warren. And he could be in a whole lot of trouble if
the police think he’s responsible for the poison.”

Carter boomed a laugh that echoed
through the narrow room. “That moron?” he scoffed. “That loser is a million miles
from being responsible for anything. He couldn’t find his own butt if you gave
him a map and a tour guide.”

I saw Sonja’s jaw tighten. Before
she fired back an angry reply, I put one hand on her arm.

“We’re not here to debate Warren’s
capabilities,” I said. “We just want to find the person that hired him to
deliver the package.”

“Shouldn’t the cops be asking me
these questions?” Carter said slowly.

“They probably will at some point,”
I said.

“Then what are you two Betty
Crockers doing up in here?” he asked. “Isn’t this kinda far from a PTA meeting
or whatever y’all do on a normal Monday?”

I smiled and stepped closer. “Look,
Carter,” I said. “We’d appreciate your help with this. Warren’s trying to make
ends meet. Anybody can appreciate that. But if he somehow got involved in our
friend’s murder, we’re trying to—”

“It was some blonde chick,” Carter
said.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Can you
repeat that?”

“Some blonde wanted to know if I
knew anybody who could deliver something,” he said. “She’s a rich bitch who
knows one of my best customers. And before you ask, I have no idea how they
know one another, okay? He called me up, said there was a special request and
then he put her on the phone.”

“Who is she?” Sonja asked. “What’s
her name?”

Carter laughed. “Oh, really? You
think I’d actually be curious about her name? I’ve got my hands full here with
this shop, lady. And in my line of work, I meet lots of different types of
people.”

“Including murderers?” Sonja said.

“Hey, I can tell you’re pretty
worked up,” Carter said. “But you need to dial back the passive-aggressive mumbo-jumbo.
I’m trying to help out so you’ll both leave and let me get back to work.”

“What’s the other guy’s name then?”
I asked. “Your friend that put you in touch with the blonde?”

With a mumbled string of expletives
and another booming laugh, Carter told us to go back to where we came from.
“I’m not giving you his name,” he said. “But I will tell you that she drove a
black Escalade.”

“How do you know that?” I asked. “I
mean, if you don’t know.”

He plucked another tissue from the
box on the counter. “Because she picked up Warren here on Saturday,” he said.
“Right around noon or so. He came by and waited inside until she pulled up and
honked. I never saw her. Never saw them together. And that’s all I’ve got to
say.”

“Did you see her—”

Carter held up one fleshy hand.
“What part of ‘that’s all I’ve got to say’ do you not understand, lady?”

“She had one of them personal
license plates,” the woman behind the counter suddenly offered.

Carter’s head whirled on his thick
neck. “What was that?”

“The blonde you’re talking about,”
the woman said. “You know those license plates that some people have? With
little abbreviations or their dog’s name or whatever?”

“What was it?” I asked.

“Uh, you know, I only got a little
glimpse,” the woman answered. “I was coming in to work about then, and I
noticed the Escalade because it was so pimped out and shiny.”

“But you saw the plate?” Sonja
asked.

The woman nodded. “Yep, but I don’t
really remember the whole thing,” she said. “The first part was a word, like
maybe ‘zebra’ or something.”

Sonja frowned. “Zebra? Like the
animal?”

“Yep,” the woman said. “Although it
might not have been exactly zebra. It could’ve been some other word and then a
number.”

The door opened and a pair of
teenaged girls came inside. They were like mirror images: slim and pale, with
pitch-black hair and gold hoops through their noses.

Carter cleared his throat loudly.
“Yeah, so this is all really fascinating,” he said. “But we’ve got a busy
afternoon.” He motioned for the two girls to come over. “Hey, Brenda,” he said.
“I see you talked your friend into it.”

One of the girls giggled and said
something I couldn’t catch. Then they followed Carter through the black velvet
curtain into the back of the shop. As he walked away, he gave us a slight nod
of his head.

“Catch ya later,” he said. “Maybe
next time you’ll be here to get inked.”

“I doubt it,” Sonja said under her
breath. “Let’s get out of here, Jana!”

When we were back in the car, I
checked my messages. There was one from Dora about Rosemary’s memorial service
and another from my mother about a family reunion she was planning. After I
listened to the latest update on the gathering, I dropped my phone into my
purse and asked Sonja if she wanted to have a late lunch.

“That would be perfect!” she said,
managing to smile. “How about that new Mexican place at Oak Woods Mall?”

“And it’ll be my treat,” I offered.
“For doing all the driving today. And for being a girl’s best friend.”

Chapter 14

My husband was perched on the front
steps when I pulled into the driveway around six o’clock. He was talking on the
phone as I came up the sidewalk.

“…whenever you’d like, Mr. Truscott,”
he was saying. “I can be there in the morning or we can do it next week.”

I gave him a kiss on his forehead
and waited. It sounded like he was planning a meeting to finalize acquisition
of Truscott’s company. When he finally said goodbye and slipped his phone into
his back pocket, I gave him another kiss.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Strange.”

“How so?”

“Sonja and I were trying to find
out who hired her brother to deliver the poisoned spinach dip,” I said.

Ben groaned. “What?” he demanded.
“Where did you go?”

I pinched his cheek. “Don’t worry,
big boy. We’re not going to do anything dangerous.”

He got up, climbed the steps and
opened the door. “Let’s go inside and talk about this.”

I followed him into the house,
headed for the kitchen and put my purse on the table. Then I plopped into a
chair, slipped off my shoes and put my feet up.

“The boys will be here in a few
minutes,” Ben said. “I don’t think we should discuss Rosemary with them
around.”

“They’re not babies anymore,” I
said. “At ten and twelve, they know about things like death and murder.”

Ben smirked. “Of course,” he said.
“But I don’t think we need to stir up a bunch of questions that we can’t
answer.”

“That’s why Sonja and I snooped
around today—to get some answers.”

He opened the refrigerator and
pulled out a bottle of chardonnay. “You want a glass?”

“At least one,” I said. “After the
day that I’ve had.”

“Tell me about it.” Ben poured some
chardonnay into a glass and carried it over. “Where exactly did you guys go?”

I took a sip, sighed with pleasure
and raised my drink in a toast. “Here’s to the best husband in the world,” I
said.

Ben touched his beer bottle to the
rim of my glass. “Thanks, babe. Now, let’s get to it; where did you go with
Sonja and why should I not worry about you?”

“Technically, that’s two questions,”
I said, smiling. “Which do you want me to answer first?”

The way he frowned and shook his
head told me to stop stalling. Even though Sonja and I felt safe when we
visited Rusty Red’s and the tattoo parlor, I knew that Ben was voicing genuine
concerns and the best way to diffuse the possibility of tension was to spill
the beans.

“We went to Rusty Red’s,” I
explained. “And then a tattoo place that’s owned by a friend of Sonja’s
brother.”

He considered the information while
taking a long pull on his beer. “And you missed work to do this?”

I nodded. “It’s fine,” I said. “Liz
is the most understanding boss anyone could hope for. She’ll call me if she has
questions, and she suggested I take a couple of days to process everything
that’s happened.”

“Process?” Ben’s voice was jumpy,
despite the calm expression on his face. “By going to a strip club and a tattoo
parlor.”

I smiled, raising one eyebrow.
“Nobody calls them parlors anymore,” I said.

“Oh, is that right?” Ben drank more
beer, eyeing me warily. “Is that what you’re processing now?”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” I said,
feeling a faint swell of annoyance deep inside. “Sonja and I want to find out
what happened to our friend. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” said Ben. “I just don’t
want you to get involved in anything dangerous.”

I put my glass on the table and
pushed up from the chair. Then I walked over, wrapped my arms around his neck
and pressed the tip of my nose to his. “I’m not,” I said. “We went to those
places just to ask questions. I’m not going to pretend that it made me a little
anxious, but that’s mainly because of the reason we’re doing it.”

“And what is that reason?”

“I already told you,” I said,
loosening my arms and stepping back. “Sonja’s brother delivered the poisoned
dip. We want to find out who sent him and why they wanted to hurt Rosemary.”

“Maybe her brother’s the killer,”
Ben said.

I shook my head. “Doubtful. The
guy’s got a head full of rocks, based on what Sonja has to say. And he’s not
wired that way.”

“Meaning?”

“He’s not a killer,” I explained.
“Petty thief? Yes. Shoplifter? Absolutely. Mastermind of a plot to lace spinach
dip with poison as a murder weapon? Not a chance.”

Ben frowned. “Well, I don’t know
why you’re so certain. Murder isn’t stealing something from a store. It’s a crime
of passion. Or rage. There has to be motive, opportunity and means.”

“Well, we know about the last two,”
I said. “Some kind of poison that was delivered from Olive Street Café.”

“Did the detective confirm that?”
asked my husband.

“That was the coroner’s initial conclusion,”
I answered. “The tox panels were expected back either today or tomorrow.”

“Okay, so
if
it’s poison,”
Ben said, “what’s the motive?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find
out.”

“Who knew that Rosemary would be
here on Saturday?” he asked.

I thought for a second. “Everyone
in book club. And I suppose anyone that Rosemary might have told; members of
her family, people at work, her other girlfriends, neighbors.”

“That’s a pretty large pool of
potential suspects. Who would want to kill someone as nice and mellow as her?”

“That’s the baffling part,” I said.
“It just seems so—”

“And why would they have known
about the catered dinner that we were planning for Brock Truscott?”

The question stopped me cold. I’d
been so focused on Rosemary’s death and the coroner’s preliminary supposition
that I hadn’t considered something so elementary.

“Wow! That’s
such
a good
question!”

Ben grinned. “See? I’ve paid
attention all those nights when you’ve been watching
CSI
and
NCIS
and all those other shows.”

“I guess so,” I said, digging in my
purse. “I’ve got to call Sonja and let her know.”

Ben finished his beer. “Can it
wait?” he asked. “Matt and Sam should be here soon.”

I looked at my phone. Then back at
the sideways grin on my husband’s face. I let the phone slip back into my
purse.

“I’ll call her after we eat
dinner,” I said. “Do you feel like going out? I didn’t take anything out of the
freezer and—”

“Done and done,” Ben said. “I made
reservations at that Italian place you like.”

“Russo’s?”

He nodded. “That’s it! Now, why
don’t we go take a quick shower?” He took my hand and tugged me gently toward
the hallway. “The boys are due home in…” He checked his watch. “…twenty-five
minutes, give or take. That should be plenty of time to freshen up, don’t you
think?”