Strung Out to Die (3 page)

“That’s not nice, Marlene. Willow will get you back one day.” I picked up the feather duster and lightly brushed it across the hanging strings of beads on the shelves.

Marlene and Willow had a history. Once, when she first come to town, she wanted me to wrap her fancy yellow Spinel diamond so she could hang it from a necklace. Unfortunately, Willow, who will eat anything, snacked on Marlene’s precious stone. Doc Johnson’s x-ray of my sick piggy confirmed that she had eaten the gem.

After Willow passed the gem, (and by that I mean she pooped it out) Marlene took it back and decided she was going to learn the wrapping technique herself, which was fine by me. She and Willow had been at odds ever since.

Marlene threw her hot-pink hobo bag on the counter and pointed at the dust all over the place. “Fingerprint dust?”

“Yep, Noah wasn’t worried about skimping on the powder.” Shaking my head back and forth, I began thinking I should just grab all the beads and dunk them in soapy water. “I’m sorry about Doug.”

“I don’t know what is going on with my love life!” With her elbows firmly planted on the dusty countertop, she rested her head in her hands.

Condolences seemed to be in order since she had just landed Doug after chasing him the past few months.

“Every time I think I find ‘The One’, they up and die on me.” Sighing, she picked up the polishing rag to help clean the sterling silver beads. “I thought I had a chance with him, too.” She raised her shoulders, craned her neck to look over at the tape outline of Doug Sloan’s body.

I’m assuming she was talking about Doug, not Sean. There was no sense in trying to be Veronica Mars when I was sure Sean wasn’t the killer. He might be a snake, but he wasn’t a python.

I put it in the back of my head and dusted the beading tools—even those hadn’t been safe from Noah’s powder.

Setting the rag back on the counter, Marlene dug in her purse and pulled out another stick of gum. “Want one?” She shoved the pack in my face.

“No, thanks,” I mumbled. I couldn’t chew gum, clean the shop, and try to solve this murder. Multi-tasking wasn’t one of my fortes.

“Agnes said Noah Druck came by and asked her all sorts of questions about the work Doug had done for her.” She chomped.

It was no secret that Sean was contracted by Agnes to go in and clean up Doug’s shoddy job. Agnes had made sure she told everyone about it. She even went as far as putting a big sign in her yard the size of a football scoreboard. It had blinking lights and all and said,
Doug Sloan=BAD BUSINESS!

Lawyer, Bear McGee, paid a visit to Agnes and threatened a lawsuit on Doug’s behalf if she didn’t take it down. She threatened one back, and included a death threat in her response. Foolish woman was probably regretting those words now.

“I told her to keep her mouth shut. A little old woman like Agnes couldn’t hurt a flea.” Marlene picked up a handful of beads and wiped them half-heartedly. “You think Sean did it?”

I did a double take. I swear there was a glint in her eye.

“Why would you say that?” I grabbed the window cleaner and sprayed it on the counter top.

“Well…Doug
was
killed in
your
shop, Holly.” She unrolled one too many paper towels.

I grabbed the roll from her. If she was right, my alimony would stop and I’d need to be conservative with everything, including paper towels. Marlene wasn’t good at conserving anything, including men.

“That doesn’t mean Sean did it.” My brows furrowed. Why did I feel the need to defend him when he could be setting me up?

“Think about it.” There was a bubble pop between her breaths. “He has to pay you alimony. Doug was found in your shop. I even heard a string of beads was found around his neck.”

Bad news traveled fast. Especially around Swanee.

I swear my heart stopped. What if it wasn’t about bad blood between Sean and Doug? What if it was about me and the alimony payments?

“If you’re convicted and put in jail, Sean doesn’t have to pay you a dime. Men can be weasels, honey. Especially when it comes to money.”

Nervously, I scrubbed the countertop wondering if Sean had really set me up. But he didn’t do a good job if he was publicly arguing with Doug at The Livin’ End.

“I was there, you know. At the Livin’ End last night. I saw Sean threaten him,” she confirmed. “The note said to meet Doug at The Livin’ End, and when I went there he acted like he never sent it.” She rolled her eyes just before a big bubble popped on her face. “That’s when Sean confronted him about Agnes and how he was sick and tired of Doug taking advantage of all the elderly folks in town. Between me and you, he even said that someone needed to stop Doug Sloan.”

I didn’t say anything. I had to talk to Sean and get a firsthand account. But one question hadn’t been answered. Why was Doug dead in my shop?

“Marlene, weren’t you supposed meet him here last night?” I had to throw it out there. Let’s face it. Marlene blew into Swanee without telling us much about her past. Somehow, she had talked Agnes, our octogenarian Diva friend, into hiring her as her caregiver without showing any credentials. Agnes might be a couple cups of crazy, but she always knew where her money was. I couldn’t imagine someone putting one over on Agnes.

Marlene’s eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed. “Holly Harper, are you accusing me of killing Doug Sloan?”

“Just asking.” I put my hands up in front of me in case her nails felt the need to claw something. “He was found dead in my business, and it wasn’t a secret you’ve been trying to land him since the day you laid your cosmetically implanted lashes on him.”

I’m not sure how old Marlene was, and couldn’t guess. Everything she had was enhanced, and not by God himself.

I took a closer look at those eyelashes. I’d never heard of anything like it until she told the Divas about her eyelash implant surgery and the money she spent on it.

“I’ll admit he was a challenge, but I’d never kill for a man to love me. What sense does that make? I need him alive! I’m going home. I have a headache. Let me know when the next Diva meeting is.” She tossed her pink bag over her shoulder and slammed the door behind her.

It was probably all the gum chomping that was rattling her brain making it hurt, but she was good at leaving when a situation became sticky. Like the first time she met Ginger Sloan Rush, my best friend and Doug’s older sister. Ginger could spot a phony in a second, and it was clear she had her doubts about Marlene and had practically given her a grand inquisition.

If it weren’t for Ginger, the Divas would’ve never known Marlene was a wealthy widow, even though she never told us how her previous husband died. When we asked, her lips pinched tighter than bark on a tree.

I looked out the window and watched Marlene strut down Main Street toward Agnes Pearl’s house, which happened to be right next to Ginger’s house. Agnes Pearl was going to get a visit from me very soon.

But first, there were a couple of phone calls I needed to make. I dialed.

“Bernadine, it’s me.” I glanced around to make sure no one was listening, even though I knew there wasn’t anyone in the shop. Obviously I couldn’t be too careful now-a-days. I cupped my hand over the handset and spoke softly, “Be at my house in fifteen minutes. Emergency meeting. Call the Divas.”

Without a word, Bernadine knew exactly what I meant. I hung up the phone.

“Come on, girl.” I yelled for Willow. When she came waddling in the shop from the back, I bent down and clipped her leash to her collar. I glanced around at what was once a sparkly, shiny bead shop, and frowned.

One thing I was sure of, Doug Sloan was found dead in my shop and no one was coming forward to admit to killing him. I had a sneaky suspicion that I was being set up, but by whom?

It was going to be up to the Divas and me to find out.

Chapter Four

Jim Rush’s truck was backed up to the barn behind my house when I got home. It wasn’t unusual for him to be there about that time, but it seemed a little odd today, considering Doug’s murder. Then again, Ginger and Jim owned the property and the cottage that I was living in. They used the barn to store extra equipment for Sloan’s Hardware, another company Ginger’s family owned in Swanee, and Jim was the manager.

I craned my neck to see inside the open barn door. I’d never been inside since it was off limits. Jim had made that crystal clear with the handshake agreement we made about the living arrangements. A handshake was taken just as seriously as a written contract in Swanee. Besides, Ginger and I were best friends. If you can’t trust your best friend or her husband, whom can you trust?

Then again, I was beginning to wonder about the answer to that question.

“Hi, Holly.” Jim and his ten-gallon cowboy hat appeared out of nowhere in the barn doorway. His eyes were red around the lids. He took his hat off and whacked it up against his legs. Dirt came flying out of it. “I had to get away.”

A cloud of dust following him as he shuffled closer.

Jim always wore his jeans all the way up to his navel. These jeans weren’t just any blue, either. They were the bluest blue you’ve ever seen; indigo in fact. His big money-sign belt buckle was always polished and front and center, keeping his neatly pressed collared shirt tucked in tight.

The color of the shirt changed daily, but you could bet he’d always be in an identical pair of blue jeans, with the same belt buckle and cowboy boots day in and day out.

But not today.

His slicked back, coal black hair flopped to the side. And his shirt was wrinkled and untucked, and those jeans of his were a little on the gray side.

“I’m sorry about Doug.” I wasn’t sure what to say, since he was found dead in my shop. “I don’t know why he was at The Beaded Dragonfly.”

I did wonder if Ginger suspected I had something to do with Doug’s murder and hoped Jim would say something–anything–to make me feel better.

“Do you have anything you want to tell me, Holly?” he asked, staring at me in a peculiar, almost accusing way. “Ginger and I can’t figure out why he’d be there either.”

“I have no clue.” I shook my head. It was a question I’d asked myself over and over again the past few hours. The sick feeling had now settled to scared stiff. Obviously, they considered me a suspect. But why? What would my motive for strangling Doug Sloan be? Clearing my throat, I asked, “How is Ginger?”

“Distraught.” Sadness was all over his face. “Ginger and I want answers.”

He turned to go back to the barn, but stopped. “I wish you would’ve installed those cameras,” he muttered as he walked back to shut the barn door and then jumped into his truck.

He hadn’t made me feel better at all.

As I watched him drive away, I wished he’d talked me into those security cameras too.

When I first opened The Beaded Dragonfly, Jim’s security business, Rush’s Protective Services, was flourishing. He’d even offered me a deal.

“I’ll give you three cameras for the price of two.” I recalled him holding up the cameras that were no bigger than the palm of my hand, but the price tag was huge.

Eight thousand dollars was just more than I had to invest.

“I can’t afford my own house, much less eight thousand dollars worth of camera equipment.” I’d reminded him of our handshake agreement.

“What about the alimony money?” he’d asked.

“What alimony?” I laughed. “Doug gets all the jobs around here.”

That was the end of that conversation. Eight thousand dollars sounded like a great investment now.

I turned around and looked at the gray clapboard, three-room cottage I called home. It was all I needed after my divorce. Three rooms were big enough for all the stuff I had collected over the years. The best part wasn’t the wall of windows that overlooked the lake or the fact that Ginger pays someone to squeegee them, but the furniture.

It came fully furnished and the only ‘
Unders
’ in the entire place were beneath the futon and the claw-foot tub.

The cabinets in the kitchen went all the way down to the floor. There wasn’t a kitchen table to worry about sweeping under, no book shelves to dust under, no
Unders
whatsoever.

There were built-in bookshelves in the family room. The bedroom was plain and simple with just a box spring and mattress. The closet was all I needed for what little clothes I was fitting into at the time.

I stopped shy of the door after I heard a rustling sound behind me. I bolted upright, and stiffened, trying not to move, blink, or even breathe.

Was the real killer already here to claim my life?

Willow sniffed the paver stones. My nerves were getting the best of me. Someone might be out there to get me, but they’d be stupid to try in the daylight?

“Psst,” someone said from the shaking bushes.

I jumped. Putting my hands up in the only karate chop position I knew, I scream, “Watch out, I’m armed and dangerous!”

“With what? That pig?” The whisper that was loud but familiar, gave way to laughter. The bush shook again. “Holly, look over here.”

I looked. The pink sneakers sticking out from the bushes were a dead give-away.

“Bernadine, what are you doing in there?” I parted the twigs, but Willow had already begun her ritual of licking Bernadine.

“Ouch!” Bernadine untangled her long crimson hair that was caught up in the bush and pushed Willow away. “I didn’t want Jim to see me since it was his brother-in-law that was killed in the shop. Enough, Willow.”

Willow liked Bernadine. Well, she liked the cut up apples and grapes that Bernadine kept in a Ziploc baggie in her pocket.

“Food Watchers,” she would claim, holding the snack up every time I suggested she keep them at home. As long as I’ve known Bernadine, she’d been on Food Watchers. Only she really didn’t watch her food or her weight. She’d always been the same five-foot-one and a little on the plump side.

The keys jingled and jangled as I tried to pry the door open. With a swift kick to the bottom corner and a little nudge, the door opened. Willow flew in, anticipating a spot on the futon right next to Bernadine and her Ziploc baggie.

“I really need to get that fixed,” I said, referring to the door as I threw the keys in the basket on the counter top.