Poison and Party Hats, page 19
The phone rang only twice before she picked up. “Elliot Realty, how can I get you in your dream home today?”
You can’t, I thought, suddenly glad I was selling. There was no mistaking the pushiness in her voice. I could handle pushy, though. A lot better than I could tolerate staying in Shongoloo much longer. “Hi there. I’m actually looking to sell. I’ve recently inherited some property in town that I have no use for. One of the neighbors mentioned that you were already working on selling the house, so I wanted to touch base.”
“Oh! You must be Eliza’s niece,” she answered brightly. “The whole town’s talking about that will. I’m so glad to hear you’re planning on selling, and I’d be thrilled to help you through the process.”
And thrilled for the commission, I’m sure, I thought. Call me cynical, but I knew she wasn’t speaking out of the goodness of her heart.
“I was hoping we’d be able to meet to discuss it?” I asked. I was more interested in discussing why Eliza was selling in the first place, but I’d save that for when we were face to face, and I could gauge her reactions.
“Oh, sure! I’m doing some running around for other clients most of the morning. Would this afternoon work?” she asked, practically tripping over her words to get them all out. If she was this excited about selling the house, she might have a stroke when she learned I wanted to sell the grooming salon too.
“That’ll be great. Around three?”
“Perfect! I’ll see you then,” she said, hanging up without ever asking for my name or contact information. In a tiny place like Shongoloo, she probably already had everything she needed from the rumor mill.
Before I was able to even set my phone down again, it lit up with a new call—Julian, this time.
Crap. He had terrible timing. With the parade of small-town zaniness yesterday, I never got around to answering Pauline’s email or checking in about my pitch. I still didn’t have a pitch, but that wasn’t something I wanted to admit to my boss. For the first time in a very long time, I’d let work fall to the wayside of everything else. I couldn’t make that mistake again.
“Hey, Jules, I’m sorry I never—”
“How are you doing?” he asked, cutting me off. “Are you okay?” His voice was full of concern I didn’t need. Sympathy I didn’t want. And that was exactly why I needed to stay on top of things. Otherwise, people would start to think I couldn’t handle it all.
“I’m fine,” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, praying I wouldn’t have any more headaches crop up. “Things might take longer than I expected out here. My aunt left me all this stuff in her will, and there’s a lot to figure out. If I can get a moment to myself with all these busybodies nosing around.”
Julian laughed. “That’s small towns for you, huh? Isn’t that why people like you and me abandon them? There’s always drama about some thing or another. Don’t worry about us here. Take whatever time you need to grieve and sort everything out, okay?”
I frowned, absently straightening a pile of papers. I didn’t like the implication that the office could get on just fine without me. “It won’t be that long,” I insisted.
He laughed again. “Uh-huh. Until you catch the whiff of a story you can’t ignore.”
“There’s no story here,” I told him. “She had a heart attack.”
“I know that, and you know that. But we both know that won’t stop your inquisitive mind from trying to fit pieces together everywhere you turn.”
I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. I had a knack for finding stories wherever I went; that was how I wound up with my own regular column, overseeing a whole team of other writers in the murder department.
“Actually, it’s funny...” I said, spinning in Eliza’s chair. “There definitely is something off about the whole thing. I get the feeling that there are a lot of secrets buried in this place. But I assure you, I have no intentions of staying any longer than necessary, no matter what the yokels want from me.”
“Good.” He chuckled. “We need that big brain of yours back here ASAP. You make the connections no one else can see.”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Now you’re starting to sound like one of them. I’m not a detective.” That last part was more of a reminder for me than Julian. It was tempting to forget about my grief and throw myself into an investigation. But that was all it would be—me avoiding the truth. There was no reason to dig any deeper. The best thing I could do for myself and this whole situation was to let things be.
“I know you’re waiting on my pitch,” I said, shifting back to work talk. “I’ll have something to you tonight,” I promised. That would hopefully light a fire under me.
“Sounds good. You let us know if there’s anything we can do on our end. I mean it, Luce. You’re not in this alone.”
I held back another sigh, rolling my eyes. This kind of soft touch was exactly why I’d originally tried to use my vacation time for this trip. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough notice for it to get approved, and I’d been forced to switch it to bereavement leave so everyone in the office knew.
“Yep, I appreciate it,” I said through clenched teeth. Jules was a good boss, fair and personable. I couldn’t get annoyed with him for treating me like I was human. I just didn’t particularly like it.
Once the call was over, I surveyed the mess of Eliza’s office again. There was no way I’d get any work done surrounded by all this stuff. I’d have to tackle the organization another time and work elsewhere for now.
As soon as I exited the office, Ollie’s bark echoed off the walls, bouncing around enough to make my ears ring. He wasn’t running toward me, though. He’d raced off through the door to the front, yapping away.
“Could you see who’s out front?” Darla said, more of a demand than a question.
“Hey, buddy,” I heard a familiar voice say to Ollie. “How’re you doin’?”
“Chelle?” I called before I made it out there.
“Oh, good! You’re here,” she cried, rushing over to wrap me in a big bear hug.
I froze, stiff as a board. Hugs had never been my thing, but that clearly never stopped anyone around here. Especially not Chelle, who’d been my best friend all through middle and high school. She looked pretty much the same as she did back then, a little older now obviously, but with the same bright, bubbly smile. A total blast from the past that I was not at all prepared for.
“I can’t believe you finally came to visit after all these years,” she said, pulling away. “I mean, I know Shongoloo isn’t anything compared to New York, so who can blame you, right? It’s just so good to see you again!” We’d kept in touch through social media and mutual friends, but drifted apart as our lives went on, the way most high school friends did. I’d moved on from Shongoloo, and she never had. We didn’t have too much in common these days.
“You too,” I said, completely mystified by the way she tamed Ollie with a few well-placed scratches. He was on his back at her feet, belly up, tongue lolling out dangerously close to touching the tile.
“Do you have plans for lunch? I was hoping we could catch up. My treat!” Chelle grabbed my wrist and started tugging me along with her.
For a moment, I resisted. No one pushed me around or dragged me anywhere against my will nowadays, but in high school, Chelle had been the outgoing one who was always happy to take center stage so I could stay in the wings like I preferred. She was always the one encouraging me to join clubs with her, roping me into prom committee or the yearbook club, conning me into attending the school functions I’d always been too good for.
It was a hell of a lot easier to go along with her than to put up a fight, so I let her drag me out of the shop to lunch. I had skipped breakfast, after all, and I knew Chelle wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Where are we going?” I asked as I climbed up into her Jeep. It wasn’t the same one she’d had in high school—there was no hole rusted through the floor, for one—but it was similar enough to make me feel like a teenager again.
“Where do you think?” she asked, flashing a big smile at me before pulling out of the Dip & Clip parking lot.
I should’ve known it would be Speedy’s Diner. There wasn’t anywhere else in this town to grab a hot meal. And, of course, the place hadn’t changed at all. The booths were the same cracked, olive-green vinyl, and the menus were still too big to fit on the table, though the prices had definitely changed. Not even this secluded corner of Louisiana could escape inflation, it seemed.
“I have so many questions about New York,” Chelle said as we took a booth by the windows. “What’s it like? Is it everything you hoped it’d be? Do you ever see any famous people around town? It must be so glamorous,” she said wistfully. “Nothing glamorous ever happens around here. Well, not unless you count the time Amy Mulberry got one of those reality TV makeovers. Did you know she married Nick Rodgers? Never would have put those two together. Their poor baby has a forehead big enough to rent out ad space on. Cute little bugger, but bangs are gonna be her friend.”
There was no use in me trying to get a word in. Despite her litany of questions, Chelle was too excited to stop long enough for me to answer any of them. She had a seemingly endless supply of inane anecdotes about our classmates and the ups and downs of their lives. By the time we ordered and got our food, I knew more than I’d ever wanted about who’d married, who’d divorced, who’d come out of the closet, and who still hadn’t.
I did my best to let it go in one ear and out the other. In a couple of weeks, I’d be back in New York, forgetting any of those people existed. I didn’t need the local gossip clogging up valuable space in my brain with everything else going on.
We were finished with our food, enjoying some chicory coffee, when an older man approached our table, his face screwed into a permanent-looking scowl. He looked familiar, but it had been so long since I’d seen most people in Shongoloo that I couldn’t put my finger on who he was. When he saw me, his expression softened a fraction.
“My condolences on your loss,” he said, tsking and shaking his head. “I always knew all that carrying on and drinking late into the night couldn’t be good for folks our age, but no one could ever get Eliza to act her age if she didn’t want to.”
Chelle and I exchanged a look. The man sounded bitter, maybe angry about it? Was this maybe one of Aunt Eliza’s suitors? And if so, was he the one jealous enough to kill her?
Damn it, Lucy, I scolded myself. There’s no story here. Stop trying to make one.
Like Julian said, my brain couldn’t help itself. That didn’t mean I had to listen to it.
The man left as abruptly as he’d arrived, and Chelle scoffed once he was out of earshot.
“Can you believe him? Eliza was the healthiest woman I’d ever known her age. She was fit as a fiddle.”
“You mean besides the diabetes?”
She blew that off. “She always had that under control. And lately she’d been working out so much she put women half her age to shame—me included!”
Before I could consider that, a car horn blared out in the street. Brakes screeched. People shouted curses. Chelle looked out the window, covering her mouth in horror. “Oh, no...”
My stomach sank, a hard knot of dread balling up in its place. I followed her gaze out the window and couldn’t believe it. “Is that...? Ollie!” I groaned, jumping up.
I didn’t know how he’d gotten out, or how he’d made his way into town, but he was in the middle of the road, blocking traffic. The car that stopped for him started to drive around, but that only left him exposed to whoever came down the street next.
Heart in my throat, I raced out of the diner to save the little idiot from himself.
Chapter 5
“Damn it, Ollie,” I grumbled, stomping across the sidewalk. I didn’t have time to debate anything. Like it or not, this dog was my responsibility for the time being, and I couldn’t let him become roadkill.
“Ollie!” I called from the curb. “Come here!”
He barked back, not moving. A couple of people on the other side of the street tried calling him too. One person got close enough for Ollie to snap at him, which was the final straw for me. If he hurt someone, we’d all be in trouble.
“Ollie, that’s enough,” I said, looking both ways before stepping out into the street. The drivers of the cars waiting for him to move appeared eager for me to remove the four-legged roadblock.
“This is not the time for a temper tantrum.” I got close enough to grab him, but at the last second, he lunged at me. I staggered back, wobbling, and—snap—one of my heels broke, my foot turning sideways painfully. I hissed, balancing on my one good shoe while my ankle throbbed, and more car horns joined the chorus.
“Just great.” Another pair of heels ruined by this beast—Manolos this time. No dog was worth this trouble.
But Aunt Eliza was.
“I’m not playing with you. It’s time to go,” I said in my most commanding tone. Ollie let me get close enough to grab his collar, and Chelle met us at the curb with a leash from the Jeep.
“Are you okay?” Chelle asked.
“I think so, but my shoes aren’t.”
“You’re not hurt, are you?” she asked, lifting Ollie up to look him over.
If I was a Looney Tune, there’d be steam shooting out of my ears. She was worried about the dog? From Darla, I expected it, but Chelle was supposed to be on my side. I needed to take my anger out on someone, and I already knew who.
I picked up the phone to call Darla. She didn’t answer, which meant I got to say my piece without interruption. “In case you’re wondering, I have Ollie. Great job keeping an eye on him. He nearly got hit by a car. You were supposed to be watching him.” I stopped myself short of suggesting this kind of thing might be why my aunt got sued by an angry customer. Even in the heat of rage, I knew there were some lines that shouldn’t be crossed.
After hanging up the phone, I found Chelle and Ollie in the Jeep. He was in her lap, getting all kinds of TLC that he didn’t deserve.
“What is wrong with you?” I huffed, glaring at him. How could such a small creature cause such humongous problems?
“There’s nothing wrong with him,” Chelle said, quick to jump to his defense. “He’s always been a bit of an escape artist. Without Eliza around, I think he’s just feeling a bit lost and restless.”
I gritted my teeth. I’d been in town for two days, and I was already sick of people telling me about this dog’s feelings. From Chelle, it felt like a betrayal more than anything.
“How about I take you back home, and I’ll keep Ollie for the day?” Chelle offered, suddenly finding her way into my good graces again. Maybe she could be on both of our sides.
“You’d do that?” I asked, incredulous. Why would anyone volunteer to spend more time with Ollie?
Chelle shrugged. “Darla has her hands full, and I’m always looking for friends for Pepper.”
“Pepper?”
“That’s our dog. You’ll love her,” she said, petting Ollie one last time before putting him in the back seat.
I didn’t say anything on the ride back to the Dip & Clip. I was still too mad about my shoe to even look at Ollie, and despite how it felt at first, hanging out with Chelle wasn’t quite the same as it used to be. Maybe we’d grown apart too much to rekindle that old friendship.
After she dropped me off, I bypassed the shop and went back to Aunt Eliza’s house for a new pair of shoes. Originally, I thought I’d overpacked for the trip, but at this rate I’d be barefoot in a week.
There were still a few hours before my appointment with the realtor, and I already knew what I was going to do with them. Despite Julian’s warnings and everything I’d said, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing the whole picture with Aunt Eliza’s death. There were too many things not adding up, too many questions still hanging in the air.
There was one surefire way to quiet the nagging curiosities that wouldn’t go away. I needed to obtain a copy of the coroner’s report. Everything I wanted to know about Eliza’s death would be in that report, and when it plainly spelled out it was nothing more than a simple heart attack that killed her, I’d be able to go about my life as normal and leave Shongoloo behind like I’d planned.
The county coroner was a regal-looking woman named Serena Barton. She met me in the lobby of the morgue wearing a pencil dress that would’ve been right at home in Manhattan. Finally, someone with some taste. “How can I help you today, Miss Layton?” she asked.
“I wanted to talk to you about my aunt, Eliza Dumond,” I said, cutting right to the chase. Serena looked to be a busy woman, and I didn’t want to take up more of her time than I needed to. Call it professional courtesy.
“Of course. What questions can I answer for you?” she asked with a quick glance at her smartwatch.
“Were you the one who performed the autopsy?” I began, itching to pull out my notepad. I wasn’t quite ready to commit to that yet, though. Once I started taking notes, it wouldn’t be long before the whole town knew I was poking around. If there was someone responsible for Eliza’s death, I didn’t want them to have time to cover their tracks. I needed to keep my snooping as quiet as possible and pray the small-town rumor mill passed me up just this once.
“I was,” she said. “There was nothing to suggest that the initial cause of death given by the hospital was incorrect. No signs of injury or trauma.”
It seemed that Serena was already onto me. Or maybe she was just trying to get ahead of my questions so she could get back to work. “I’d like a copy of the report, if that’s possible. I might have questions once I look at it.”
“Sure,” she said, moving to the ancient computer, giving no indication how she felt about my request. “But it’s all fairly straightforward. Natural causes. Nothing suspicious. I know a lot of people have been struggling to come to terms with it since she was so well-liked around here. But we’re used to this kind of thing in our field. Everyone’s time comes eventually, as tough as that is to swallow.” By the time she finished, the printer behind the front desk had spit out a few sheets of paper. Serena stapled them together for me, and passed the report over, still warm.
