Makeup & Murder Page 8

  Kitti opened right up. “We all knew Ann Marie. I just can’t believe she’s gone. She was a heck of a performer. Let me tell you, the men just loved her, and she loved them.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I heard, and what I want to talk to you about,” I said.

  “What do you want to know?” she asked.

  “Well, the police are clueless as to who killed her. I just can’t sit back and do nothing. I was wondering if you had any ideas? Like maybe she had an ex-boyfriend with a grudge, or a patron who went a little too far with his admiration?”

  “Nah, nothing like that. She was loved by everyone, especially Roger. Man, he was so in love with her. Bought her all that jewelry. Took her on those fancy trips. I was so jealous,” Kitti said.

  “Anyone else jealous?” I asked.

  “No, not like that. She had it all, that’s all. And now, it’s just so sad.” I noticed a good-looking man, dressed to the nines, eyeing us the same moment she did. “Listen, I gotta get back to work. I’ll be back in a minute with those Cokes,” she said.

  The man summoned her, and I assumed he was her boss. Maybe it was the suit or the gelled-back hair, but something about him reminded me of the mafia. I got the impression that he’d have his eye on us for the remainder of the evening.

  Word got around that we were friends of Ann Marie’s, and a couple more of the girls stopped by. The story was always the same: the trips, the jewelry, how in love she and Roger were. The fact that he was married was irrelevant.

  “They were perfect together,” said one of the girls from the pole-dancing duo from earlier. “Like, they had what it took to make it,” she continued.

  Finn sat back and let me do the talking. “Did you know he was married?” I asked.

  The girl shrugged her shoulders as if to say so what. “Maybe you should talk to his wife then. I’d be pissed if my husband was in love with another woman. And trust me, they were in love,” she said.

  “You could say that,” chimed in a girl named Tara, with peacock feathers covering her lady bits.

  “If Roger gave her everything, then why did Ann Marie still perform?” I asked.

  “Because Roger loved to see her up there. Made him feel all alpha. And she made bank. No one brought in more cash than Ann Marie,” said Tara. That made sense. If you were good at your job and liked it, why quit? From the sound of it, no one could deny that Ann Marie was talented. No one could also say who’d want to kill her. “Listen, we’d all love to say and chat, but Boss Man doesn’t pay us to socialize. We’d better get back to it.”

  “Unless you want a dance?” Tara asked.

  “No, I’m good,” Finn replied.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” she replied.

  Oh jeez. “No thanks,” I replied. “I got all the action I need right here.” I put my arm around Finn’s waist and he played along.

  “Okay, well, let us know if you change your mind. You can join in too if you’d like,” Tara said to Finn.

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

  The girls got back to work, and I removed my arm from Finn’s waist.

  “Well, that was interesting,” he said. I wasn’t sure which part he meant, but I agreed with him.

  It was about midnight by the time we were ready to leave. I left my business cards with a couple of the girls, which, of course, led to us talking shop. I may have even managed to score a new client or two. All in all, I’d say it was a productive evening. I would’ve tried to chat up the boss man before leaving, but didn’t see him on our way out.

  The buzz of the club had felt good. It was beautiful night. I was out with a cute guy, and I didn’t have anywhere to be in the morning. For a few minutes, I had even managed to forget about Roger and Ann Marie entirely; that is, until we got into the car. The silence was unnerving. Talk about doing a one-eighty. Mrs. J. once said that denial was more than a river in Africa, and now I knew what she meant. I couldn’t deny this past week’s events—the murders, being assaulted, finding Ann Marie’s dead body. It was almost too much. Paranoia is best kept at bay. As soon as you acknowledge it, fear takes over. I was headed for a tailspin.

  Finn caught on in a second. “You all right?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” With the way my voice sounded, even I didn’t believe me. I stared out the windshield across the parking lot, acutely aware of every single sound—a cicada buzzing above us, the bump of the music inside the club, a car pulling in. I had never had a panic attack before, but started to wonder if this was what it felt like. My hands were clammy. If I hadn’t opened my mouth to speak, I probably would’ve forgotten to breathe.

  Finn put his hand on my arm. “Calm down, okay?” I didn’t realize I was squeezing the steering wheel. “It’ll be all right. We’re in this together.”

  “If I knew who the bastard was behind this, I’d run him over with my truck.” I hated having my life turned so upside down and feeling helpless to right it again. All the suspects seemed to cast more doubt than provide answers, and I wasn’t any closer to solving this case than when the day started. I was devoting more time to this craziness than to my livelihood, not getting anywhere, and it was really grinding on me.

  “I don’t doubt you would. Maybe you should let me drive?” Finn offered with a smile. I relaxed a little. I knew he was half joking, but I took him up on his offer anyway. I tossed over my keys and we switched spots. Driving down Highway 17 is always creepy at night, anyway, even when you’re not freaking out. I’d rather let someone else drive it any day.

  9

  A minute away from the clubs and, already, tall swamp oaks blocked out the stars, their long draping branches hiding whatever creatures lived in the shadows. Whenever I’d pass through here at night, it always seemed safer driving down the center of the road, away from the darkness.

  Flickers of white caught my eye to the right and stole my attention. Focusing, I realized they were the white wooden crosses of a Baptist cemetery. Oh goody, another reminder of death. I couldn’t help it; I was freaking out again. My skin began itching from nerves. Hives would break out if I didn’t relax. Calming breaths didn’t seem to help, but maybe locking the door would. My hand searched in the darkness for the lock. I pushed it down and scooted along the bench seat toward Finn. The truck windows were still down, but I didn’t want to roll them up. The sound of the wind rushing into the cab made up for our silence. Finn wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and I felt protected.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you want to stay at my place tonight?” Finn asked.

  I knew what he meant. With murder on both our minds, neither one of us wanted to sleep alone. “Sure. That’ll probably be the only way I’ll sleep tonight.” Finn nodded his head in agreement, leaving it at that, and continued to drive back to downtown Port Haven.

  Back at the marina, Finn parked my truck, and I got out to walk around to the driver’s side, figuring we were just stopping for him to pick up his truck. “So, do you want me to follow you to your place?” I asked.

  Finn smirked. “Sure, but we’re already here.” I looked around and wondered where here meant exactly. Naturally, I scanned the docks. Finn followed my eyes and said, “I wish. I live right there.” He pointed to the second story of Murphy’s. The bait shop? Well, that could be cool. At least he had water views.

  We walked around the side of Murphy’s and down the boardwalk, arriving at the same spot where I had spent most of the afternoon before standing in the sun. Only this time, we didn’t hang out next to the ice cooler. Instead, I followed Finn up a set of newly refurbished wooden stairs. Every other grayed step had been replaced. The guardrail also looked new; it lacked that weathered, splintered look you’d expect for being so close to the water.

  At the top of the stairs, Finn unlocked the door and reached his arm around on the inside wall for the light switch. Soft yellow light brought the interior into focus. The loft-style apartment opened into the kitchen. The walls were painted a warm white,
and the appliances had that retro, fifties look. Cans of Coke were stacked on the counter next to the sink. From what I could tell, the kitchen was the only outdated part of the place. Like the stairs, a newly constructed wooden breakfast bar separated the kitchen from the living room. Two oversized windows overlooked the docks, inviting plenty of natural light in. Even at night, the large flat-screen television hanging on the wall was visible.

  Finn turned on a floor lamp in the living room and gave me a quick tour, which basically required me to spin around in a circle. Besides housing the television, the living room was furnished with a brown leather sofa and matching recliner. The furniture reminded me of a nice pair of jeans that were worn in all the right places. A coffee table, similar in design to the breakfast bar with a poured-gray cement top, was centered in front of the seating area. The walls didn’t offer much in decoration, unless you counted roped fishing nets as art.

  Off the living room, was Finn’s bedroom. It looked like he had stacked dark-stained wooden crates to section off the space and offer privacy. The bedroom lacked a door, but it’s not like he needed one, seeing that he lived alone. The only problem was the front windows. I imagined the sunrise would be brutal.

  Finn spun me to the right and pointed out the bathroom. I was relieved to see that room had a door. The three Cokes I had at the club had worked their way to my bladder, and I really had to pee. I excused myself and headed for the loo.

  Like his truck, Finn’s bathroom was clean. The toilet seat was down too. Now that’s impressive. The room was small, with just enough space for a sink, toilet, and standing shower, but everything looked new. It seemed Finn had been busy with renovations. I couldn’t resist and peeked inside his medicine cabinet, but it was empty. How disappointing. At least my reflection didn’t look too bad. That twelve-hour lipstick really did last, which made me think, Beauty Secrets does offer a men’s line. I should hook Finn up with a few free samples and see what he thinks. I bet his deck hands would love the ultra-moisturizing hand cream, even if they would never admit to it. In fact, they could use the entire moisturizing line with built in SPF, the way the sun beats down on them all day.

  The marina really was an untapped market. I could expand my business to a whole new set of clientele if I could just get Finn on board. I shuffled that thought to the back of my mind with a promise to myself to ask Finn about it later.

  When I walked out of the bathroom, Finn was sitting on the edge of the coffee table watching the television. Stepping closer, I saw that it was a rerun of the eleven o’clock news. An anchor reported on the Siebold case, while the screen cut to the footage from yesterday afternoon. It looked like the reporters had already linked Ann Marie’s and Roger’s murders. Watching the footage, I recognized Finn right away, but it took me a second to realize that I was standing next to him. My expression was empty, and my normal tan complexion was pasty, a sickly shade of greenish yellow. I looked horrible and hoped none of my clients recognized me.

  Finn turned around and saw my face. “Sorry, I turned it on and there we were.” He turned the channel and got up to walk toward me.

  “It’s okay. What did the news say? Anything new?” I asked.

  “No, we still know more than they do.” Finn walked past me to the kitchen and got two glasses of water. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I just think everything’s finally sinking in and, to tell you the truth, it just pisses me off,” I said.

  “You surprise me. Most girls would be running away from all of this, but you want to charge right at it,” Finn said.

  “Well, it’s not like I have much choice. Detective Brandle’s too busy, so someone has to take over, do something.” The detective hadn’t returned one of my calls yet. “Besides, this is my life we’re talking about. I’m not about to find a couple of dead bodies and let their killer get off scot-free. Let alone, allow a homicidal maniac to attack me again.”

  “I guess that’s one way to look at it,” he said.

  “I’m not one to lie down and wait,” I said.

  “I didn’t think you were,” Finn replied before disappearing into his room. I plopped down on the couch, feeling spent. Finn returned, carrying a blanket, pillow, and a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt.

  “I know they’re not your usual digs, but I didn’t think you’d want to sleep in those jeans all night.”

  “No, that’s awesome. Thanks. I appreciate it.” I did a quick change in the bathroom and then settled in on the couch.

  Finn had turned the channel and was relaxing in the recliner when I returned. I’d never been one to watch sports, especially the evening’s highlights, but tonight they proved to be the perfect distraction. My eyelids grew heavy and I didn’t fight it. I felt safe with Finn next to me and more than cozy cuddled up on his couch, wearing his comfy clothes. Relaxed and warm, I was out before the first commercial break.

  * * *

  I woke in the morning with my cheek squished against the leather arm of the couch. The pillow Finn had given me was tucked against my side. I picked my head up, peeling my cheek off the couch, and looked around for a clock. Green neon numbers glowed on the microwave display in the still-darkened kitchen. I wasn’t surprised to see that it was just after seven. With these living room windows, I was amazed I had slept in this long. I was right; that morning sunrise was a killer.

  I smoothed my dark hair back out of my face and formed a ponytail, but it was pointless without a hair tie. My locks fell back down my shoulders, and I tucked my bangs behind my ears.

  Without getting up, I looked around the apartment for any sign of Finn, but all was quiet. Like a little kid, I got up and tiptoed over to the bedroom’s crate walls and peered inside. His messy bed was empty. I spun around on my toes and looked over toward the bathroom, but the door was open and the light was off. I wasn’t a very good detective. I had no idea where Finn had gone or when he had left.

  Walking back to the couch, I spotted a clue on the breakfast bar. Next to a blueberry muffin was a note. Sorry, had a fishing charter this morning. Hope you slept well. The coffee should still be hot. – Finn.

  Well, that was sweet. A mug with a fish decal and the saying Gone Fishin’ was out on the counter next to the coffee pot. It wasn’t a chai latte, but it was caffeine. I went to pour myself a mug when there was a knock at the front door.

  “Finn, sweetie, you home?” a woman’s voice asked.

  I ducked down in the kitchen, even though there was no way the woman could see me. I prayed she didn’t have a key. Even though nothing had happened between Finn and me, I didn’t feel like trying to convince the mystery woman of that. In my experience, there’s only one reason a woman spent the night with a man … and it wasn’t to watch sports.

  The woman knocked again. I didn’t move an inch.

  “You there, babe? I really want to see you right now.” Her voice purred through the door. I thought of Finn’s comment yesterday at lunch, about no one else’s toes to step on. My ass, I thought. He was such a liar! I was sure the mystery woman outside would agree, but I wasn’t about to ask her. “Baby? If you can hear me, call me later. I’ve got plans for us. Hot, dirty plans.”

  Sweet sugar! I did not want to hear anymore.

  I stayed crouched down, in case the woman was still out front, but she didn’t say anything else. After a couple minutes, I stood back up. Well, didn’t that just suck. Finn had a girlfriend, or someone he was sleeping with. Of course, he did. A guy that good looking never had to go too far for a piece of ass. If she was his girlfriend, it was a total game changer. Girls have a code of conduct, too, and I had crossed the line by staying over last night. If he was my boyfriend, I’d be ticked to find another woman at his place. I looked down at Finn’s shirt and sweatpants, furious. So much for Finn being a nice guy. I felt like such an idiot. I should’ve never accepted his offer to check out the clubs with me. I should’ve taken Aria or Eric instead. Lesson learned.

  I waited u
ntil I was sure the woman was back down the steps before getting dressed and gathering my things to head out the door. Downstairs, the ringing up of a sale made its way up through the floorboards, and I wondered if the woman had ever left after all.

  * * *

  My pickup was so warm and stuffy when I got in, that I had been focused on rolling down the windows and not reading the note stuck to the windshield. I tilted my head to read the words, Let secrets lie or you will DIE.

  I thought, Well, isn’t that nice; it even rhymes. The note was written in a child-like manner or by someone who had written with the opposite hand. I scrambled out of the car and pulled the note out from under my windshield wiper blade to examine it more closely. The handwriting creeped me out. It looked like it had been written in crayon, or maybe it was lipstick. I didn’t touch the lettering for fear I would smear it or damage the evidence. Of course, I surveyed the parking lot, but no one suspicious jumped out at me. I didn’t even peg anyone who could be Finn’s girlfriend. The person who left the note was probably long gone after seeing my truck had been parked here all night. I thought about calling Aria, but she taught a sunrise yoga class (crazy, I know) and I already knew where Finn was, and I was in no hurry to talk to him. It was obvious who the real person I should call was. I just hoped this time he would finally answer his phone.

  As luck would have it, Detective Brandle answered on the third ring. “Morning, Ms. Diaz,” he said. His greeting caught me off guard. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he recognized my number. I’d called him enough times in the past two days.

  “Morning, Detective. Listen, sorry for calling you again, but someone left a creepy note on my car this morning. I’m pretty sure it has to do with the Siebold case. Have a minute to talk?”