Death Wore Brown Shorts (Happy Holloway Mystery Book 1) (8 page)

A
nnie handed
the box cutter over to Flynn when they arrived, but she stood closer to him, peering past his arm to watch him open the box. If he had something to hide, she intended to see it.

“You don’t trust me, do you, Annie?”

“I don’t know you.”

“Fair enough, but we’ve been working together so far. If I had nefarious plans, I would have executed them by now, and I wouldn’t have let you into this apartment.”

He pulled out a tablet from the box and held it up. Another piece of electronics in packaging that was unmarked. Annie shook off her nerves and approached the computer. She hovered a finger above it and then backed up a step.

“Can you do a search?”

He sat down and brought up Google. “What are you looking for?”

“This brand and shopping.”

He did, and Annie noted the price of the device new. Flynn followed her line of thinking and checked the auction site.

“The range varies, but he could sell it for as low as one fifty and up to almost three hundred dollars.” She shook her head in wonder. “Used and still that much? How in the world?”

“My guess is overseas customers have more trouble getting American made products at reasonable prices.”

“Three hundred is reasonable?”

He shrugged.

“Evie’s the partner. I’m sure of it. I just can’t believe she would do this. Jane is going to be so upset when she hears.”

He sat down on the bed. “Sounds like you’re pretty upset yourself.”

“Wouldn’t you be to find out people you know, people who have attended your sister’s barbeques and laughed with you face-to-face, are involved in something like this?”

“I would, but we’re talking thievery. They’re in every family.”

“Paul—”

“I’m not sure Evie killed Paul.”

He was right. Hard as the stealing was for Annie to accept, murder from Evie was harder to believe. “It could have been an accident, and she’s scared to come forward with the truth. You remember how she freaked out.”

He mumbled an agreement, deep in thought.

“That reminds me that Stacy behaved the same way today.”

He focused on her. “What do you mean?”

“I asked her about following Robert. She all but fainted and stumbled over her words.”

“But she didn’t blink an eye when Detective Lawson asked about the package. My guess is she doesn’t know about the stealing, Annie.”

“I don’t think so either. Evie could have been trying to pin it on her, even if they were all partners, but Stacy is an awful actress and very emotional. If she thought Evie betrayed her or the police were onto her crimes, she would break down.”

“Unless of course the bad acting and emotional thing is also an act.”

Annie moaned. “Stop. This has become a merry-go-round. The best bet is to talk to Evie directly.”

She removed her cell phone from her purse and dialed Evie. The phone rang a few times and went to voicemail. Annie left a message and disconnected.

“Don’t talk to her without me.” Flynn stood. “I have to take care of a few things back home tomorrow, but I will be here by late afternoon.”

“I’m sure I can take care of myself, and it’s Evie we’re talking about.”

“Annie, you’re behaving as if the entire world is a happy place with all good people.”

She hugged her arms. “I know that’s not the case.”

He eyed her with curiosity. “It doesn’t stop you from seeing the best in everybody. Well, except me.”

She bristled. “I never said I suspected you.”

He grinned. “You didn’t have to. Your face is easy to read.”

“Hah! If it were then Detective Lawson would have seen the guilt written all over my face.”

Flynn snorted. “That kid who was here last time has more chance of solving this case than he does. Nevertheless, he’s the law, and I’m going to turn over what we’ve uncovered so far.”

“Please, not until we talk to Evie. I’ll wait until you come back.”

“Swear it?”

She held up a hand. “I promise.”

He accepted her word and drove her home. Annie watched him drive away and made herself a sandwich from rotisserie chicken she had purchased from the grocery store already cooked. She popped a slice into her mouth and paused long enough to let the tender meat and its delicious juices soothe her nerves.

In her office, she sank her teeth into the thick sandwich made with chicken, lettuce, tomato and fresh white bread. She had sprinkled a liberal amount of pepper over the mayo although the meat didn’t need it. Nothing worked food-wise without one of her standards, and that included pepper.

Annie pulled up her latest book draft and prepared to work. She decided to phone Evie once more before delving into another world, but the phone went straight to voicemail again. The moment she disconnected, her phone rang. She hoped to see Evie’s name on the display, but it was Aunt Bridge instead.

“Hello, Aunt Bridge.” One would do better to talk to her and get it over with rather than allow Aunt Bridge to leave a voicemail. “How are you?”

“The funeral is tomorrow morning,” she said by way of greeting.

“Paul’s?”

Of course she should have realized. That’s why Flynn said he would be busy, and he didn’t discuss it because who attended their delivery man’s funeral?

“You’re not going,” Aunt Bridge said. “I know that, and I’ve told Jane not to go. You all didn’t know him that well, so there’s no reason to pay your respects.”

Annie thought her aunt’s words sounded like a command. Instead, Aunt Bridge knew Annie wouldn’t attend a funeral if her life depended on it. She had attended one, and that was enough for her entire life. Seeing her mother lay in that casket, a cold shell of her former self had almost broken Annie. Maybe it did break her.

“Instead, I’m going to do something cheerful for you, Annie.”

Annie bit down on her inner cheek and made a noise of inquiry. She didn’t want to know.

“Tomorrow is a luncheon at the Amberlon Gardens. The Women’s Charity Works of Amberlon are hosting it, and it promises to be a spectacular event.”

Is she reading this off an invitation?

“I’m the chair for that organization, so I know what I’m talking about.”

So Aunt Bridge wrote the invitation herself.

“Anyway, I have two tickets, and you’re going with me. It’s at one p.m., and it’s formal, so wear something nice. Not tight or low cut!”

Annie snapped her fingers. So the sleazy black mini with a split up to her hip was out. She almost snorted thinking of people’s reactions if she actually owned something that scandalous with her figure. To wear it would mean me she had lost her mind.

“Aunt Bridge, I really didn’t expect to—”

“Don’t you tell me you have to write, Annie. You can’t write all day, and how are you going to meet your future husband stuck in that monstrosity of a house?”

“I don’t want to get married.”

“Now, I’ll pick you up at noon. The venue isn’t far from your house, but I need to get there early to greet my personal guests when they arrive plus make sure everything runs smoothly. I wonder if Omen is feeling better. He was terribly sick with food poisoning. I guess we’ll see.”

“I can drive myself, Aunt Bridge.” Why was she giving in, and was Aunt Bridge even listening to her?

“I have it on good authority that some excellent bachelors are going to be there, and you being early can scope them out before all the other old maids.”

Her aunt had just called her an old maid.

“Thanks, Aunt Bridge.”

“Oh, don’t thank me, sweetheart, until after you’ve said ‘I do.’ Now let me run down my suggestions about what you should wear. If you need me to come shopping with you, I will. Matter of fact, take a picture of all the dresses you have in your closet, and send them to my phone. I’ll make a decision then, and we can go from there.”

Annie switched her cell from one ear to the other while she stared at her computer screen. Sighing, she pushed her chair back and stood. If she argued or delayed or resisted in any way, she would never hear the end of it.

“I can’t send pictures until I let you go, Aunt Bridge.”

“All right, but I’ll call you the minute I get the pictures. I’ll wait right here.”

Annie dragged into her bedroom. If the luncheon were for any other reason than for her aunt to set her up, Annie would love to go. She enjoyed meeting and talking to people. Knowing the motive was matchmaking sucked the energy out of her.

She swung her closet door wide and began taking random pictures. For fun, she threw in one of a dress that made her look like a pumpkin. She liked to pretend it was a Halloween costume, but the poor choice of buying—and wearing—it happened in May. Aunt Bridge dialed back seconds after she sent that one.

“Annie, my dear, get your shoes on. We’re going shopping.” The grave tone of her voice gave Annie a chuckle. Aw well, she liked shopping, too.

A
nnie wiggled
her hips and yanked on the Lycra shorts again. The back rose higher on her butt, and she felt more comfortable. Making sure her dress hadn’t caught in the back, she tested the brush of the material between her legs. They did make a slight shushing noise, but maybe if she stayed seated most of the time no one would notice.

Using a tissue from her purse, she unlocked the stall and stepped out in the main area of the bathroom. A stranger smiled at her in the mirror, and Annie flashed one back. “I’m Annie Holloway.”

The woman chuckled. “Nan Nobleton. I know who you are, Annie. You probably don’t remember me, but I work with your aunt a lot doing her charity work.”

“Sure, Nan. Sorry about that.” Annie stuck her hands beneath the hottest spray she could produce from the sink. Her fingers reddened, and Nan frowned in concern.

“You’re a member of the women’s group sponsoring the luncheon?” Annie skipped washing her hands more than twice and dried them right away.

“Yes, and Omen’s mother.”

Omen.
Annie wondered who in the world Omen was. The name sounded slightly familiar, and why hadn’t he changed his name? She supposed he could be named “
Good
Omen” but doubted it. Maybe she heard wrong.

Annie excused herself from the bathroom to head back to where she had left her aunt. She stumbled just a tiny bit on the high heels. At least her feet looked amazing, and the dress her aunt picked out for her looked decent, too.

The tank bodice and tulip hemline minimized her curvy hips and downplayed her thick thighs. She almost wanted to stay in the bathroom and swing back and forth looking at herself. The only reason she didn’t was because Nan was already looking at her like she was nuts, and Aunt Bridge would have a cow.

Annie glided past the middle class folks who tended to behave as if they were the upper crust as she looked for her aunt. Everyone dressed in their finest with chins raised and noses in the air, sipped on glasses of champagne or stiffer drinks from the bar.

When Annie found Aunt Bridge ordering a drink herself, she spotted Killer at her aunt’s elbow. She supposed the bank was closed on a Sunday, so no reason he couldn’t have attended.

“Hello,” Annie said when she drew up to them.

Aunt Bridge tried to snap Annie’s arm off. “There you are, Annie. I’ve been looking all over for you. See, Omen, I told you she was here.”

So Omen was his real name, and now Annie remember Aunt Bridge mentioning he had been sick. Omen did appear pale but none the worse for wear. She should have heard his name the first time she met him at Jane’s party.

Killer Omen, very spooky.

Yup, he was definitely going on her bad guy character list. Maybe she would use a variation of his real name. No, that was too risky.

“Omen, how are you? I heard you were ill. I hope you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks. I’m stronger than I look.” His gaze drifted down over her, and Annie sensed he hadn’t changed his opinion from last time. She didn’t care.

She ordered a drink and sipped it as her aunt chattered and escorted her around the room to meet all the eligible men. Annie had trouble mustering her usual enthusiasm for meeting new people. She hoped none of the guests had Flynn’s gift for reading her thoughts from the look on her face. They would pick up right away she didn’t want to be there.

Her mindset had taken a sharp hit knowing what type of event she attended, or rather the reasons, so she found it hard to relax and enjoy herself. Aunt Bridge, whose figure Annie considered much worse than her own, didn’t fail to draw a small crowd of men around her.

Annie stood off to the side, nursing her second vodka and tonic when her aunt released her to her own devices. Omen wandered over to stand beside her. His suit was neat and of good quality, but the material hung funny on his narrow frame. She wondered if he had purchased a size too big for him.

“Your aunt’s interesting.”

“Do you like older women?”

He laughed. “No, I like her but not like that. She’s an older version of you.”

“Wow, that’s a big statement, Omen. We’ve met twice.” Annie let her irritation peek through and tried to rein it in.

“You both are outspoken but friendly, and you live however you want.”

“Aunt Bridge friendly?”

“She’s told me a lot about you, including about your dad and your mother.”

Annie swung away on the balls of her feet. Her heels caught in the carpet, and she tripped forward. Omen’s hand shot out to steady her. She jerked away and thanked him after.

“Sorry, that’s still a sore spot after all these years,” he said, catching up to her as she moved. They traversed the floor at a slower pace.

“How many years does it take to put behind you the fact that your dad killed your mother?”

He apologized again.

Annie changed the subject. “You said you know for a fact Paul Granger wasn’t the nice guy everyone thought he was. Does that mean you knew him personally?”

“I knew him. He was a small time thief.”

“A thief?” They had already come to the same conclusion, but to have it confirmed still surprised Annie. “What did he steal?”

“You name it. Most of his life, he’s been involved in making a quick buck.” Omen shrugged. “I can tell by the expression on your face you either don’t believe me or you’re wondering how I know. We all grew up together.”

“We who?”

“Me, Paul, Icky…”

She almost laughed. “Who’s Icky?”

“His name is Ivan, but he always hated it. We called him Icky, and it stuck. Anyway, he’s Evie’s ex. Used to be Icky and Evie. So funny now that I think about it.”

Annie stopped walking and downed the last of her drink. “Wait, let me make sure I have correct. The man who grew up with Paul the delivery guy is Evie’s ex-husband?”

“You got it.”

“Did you tell the police?”

“They’ll figure it out.”

“But you’re telling me about your connection to him.”

“If you want to tell them, go right ahead. The police have already grilled me, and I have an air tight alibi if they even think of pointing the finger my way.”

The vehemence in Omen’s tone made her wonder, but she left it alone. He knew for himself if he could be accused. Annie couldn’t linger mentally on the fact that Omen knew Paul so well. Rather, one of his best friends being Evie’s ex—that stunned her.

“Omen, do you happen to know how I can get a hold of Icky?”

He held out his hand. “Give me your phone. I’ll add his number.”

She suspected his willingness to help but was too eager to act on the new information. Wait until she told Flynn. He wouldn’t believe it. Come to think of it, why didn’t he know the group if they went back so far?

“Thanks.” Annie checked her phone and found he had saved his number for her as well as adding Icky’s. The area code for Omen indicated he was local, but Icky’s originated in North Carolina if she wasn’t mistaken.

He started to walk away but then turned back toward her. “Annie, if you decide to talk to Icky, don’t go alone.”

She swallowed. “Why?”

“Because he’s bad news, worse than Paul or I could imagine. He’s a low life, and he’ll do anything for a buck. Including robbing you if you meet him.”

“You happily gave me his number? I don’t understand why you didn’t tell this to the police.” She looked past his shoulder, searching for her aunt.

“Because I’m nothing like him or Paul, so you don’t have to get all scared of me. I look tough, but I’m a lamb. Ask anyone.”

She wanted to ask him to step away from her.

“I’m warning you because like I said, I like you and your aunt. Go with somebody, or better yet, just tell the police. I’m not going to.”

“Because he’s dangerous?”

“Because I’m not a snitch.”

She chewed her lip for a minute. “Omen, what bank are you a teller with?”

He told her. She sighed in relief, and he burst out laughing.

“I’m not a bank robber, Annie. I have a clean record because I’m not into all that stuff anymore. I didn’t do it much when I was a kid. We’re pushing forty, me and my old friends. Time to do something with our lives, not keep trying to game the system. Anyway, I told you.”

He started to walk away and stopped once more. His gaze slipped over her and settled on her thighs. Annie considered snapping her fingers and saying that clever line that went, “Eyes up here, buddy,” but it seemed ridiculous in this case.

“Annie,” Omen said, “why don’t you call me after you speak to Icky? I wouldn’t mind.”