Gross. “I want to go home. You can stay if you want.” I’d prefer he stay. I needed to give Ryan a buzz on the celestial cell phone.

  “You don’t care?”

  “Not at all. You have fun. I just need a room that is quiet. I also need to be somewhere that I can just forget about my parents for a minute.” They were both entitled to their life. I just didn’t want to see it or hear about it.

  “Order a car. I’ll wait with you.” Jake squeezed my hand. “What did you think about Don Shantelle?”

  “Kind of a jerk. Not exactly grief-stricken. No alibi.”

  He nodded. “Can’t rule him out.”

  “Is there anything you can tell me?”

  “Carmen’s cause of death was blunt force trauma. No weapon found at the scene.”

  That explained all the blood. “Jason?”

  “Gunshot wound.”

  “I would say that’s weird, but I guess not. That must have been a panic kill, that Jason came in when someone was beating Carmen to death.” Not a pretty way to die, blunt force trauma. “Though if they had a gun, why didn’t they just shoot Carmen?”

  “It’s too quick. They wanted the chance to let their rage out. For her to know she was being overpowered and was going to die.”

  The words sent a shiver up my spine. “It’s personal.”

  “Most likely. But she knew a lot of people, so this is going to take time. Plus, we have to see what the lab gets.” He ran his thumb over my cheek. “It will be solved. I know you feel some sort of responsibility but do me a favor and stay out of it.”

  “I want to, believe me. But if I have Carmen and Jason doing the cha-cha in my bedroom to get my attention, I’m going to pry just a little. I won’t have a choice.”

  He sighed. He sighs a lot. “Can’t you just lie to me and promise you won’t?”

  I patted his arm. “Lying isn’t good for a relationship.”

  He sighed again. “Is this your car?”

  I turned to see a black sedan pull up. “Wow, that was fast for St. Patrick’s Day.”

  “I’ll call you later.” Jake opened the door for me.

  “Bailey?” the driver asked.

  “Yes. Tom?” Safety first.

  Marner checked the license plate number against what was in the app on my phone. This was not a good day for kidnapping. I already had a headache.

  The driver was not chatty, which I appreciated. The ride home, even with the downtown traffic, wouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes. I could wait to call Ryan until I got home or I could try him while on the drive. I was too impatient to wait. What if he’d found out something crucial? Marner was acting like nothing important had turned up but maybe he was just playing it cool.

  Scrolling through my contacts list, I found Ryan’s name. For a few months after he had died, I had sent him random texts saying I missed him. He’d never mentioned receiving them and I wasn’t going to bring it up. We do not have a sentimental friendship. That’s not how he rolls.

  I hit call and put the phone to my ear. He answered almost immediately. “Heaven Help Us Investigations. Ryan speaking.”

  “Is that a joke or is that what your division or whatever is really called?”

  “It’s a joke. I knew it was you.”

  I looked out the window at the crowds all reveling in their green garb. “Did you learn anything? Sorry I couldn’t stay longer but the clerk was on to me.”

  “The son has a solid alibi. He was partying with his friends for several days in a dorm at Kent State. At least fifty kids saw him that night at various times and again in the morning. His car never left campus either.”

  “It’s good to eliminate someone, I guess. Anything else?”

  “No. I had like three minutes max. You did a lousy job.”

  “You’re welcome.” I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me.

  “Work on your boyfriend and see what you can get out of him.”

  “Not much. He’s a steel trap. Just blunt force trauma and a gunshot wound.”

  I couldn’t get more specific because I didn’t want the driver to get too curious. However, once you say things like blunt force trauma and gunshot wound, you grab someone’s attention. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror like he thought I was just a little creepy.

  “Who was who?” Ryan asked.

  “Female one, male two.”

  “What? There were two males? What are you talking about?”

  “No. First female, second male.” How could he not understand I meant the female had the blunt force trauma and the male the gunshot?

  “I don’t even know what the hell you’re trying to tell me.”

  “Fine. I’ll call you later. I’m in the car going home.”

  “You’re a head case. Later, gator.”

  To think, I’d cried for months over Ryan’s death, and lost a good fifteen pounds.

  I wanted my cry time back since he was the world’s most ungrateful friend.

  Then my phone buzzed. It was a text from him. It still amazed me he could communicate with me like that.

  You done good.

  As soon as I read it, it disappeared.

  But it was enough. I smiled in the backseat and pulled my goofy hat off. Time for a chardonnay at home, alone.

  “So guess who is back in town?” Jake asked me, as we drove together to meet his parents for brunch.

  Why do people ask you to guess? Like what are the odds you’ll guess correctly when it’s completely random and not in any context? I stared at him blankly. “I haven’t the slightest clue.”

  My sister was one of the few people I knew who had moved away and she was definitely in Texas. There was no way she would blow into town without it being a major endeavor.

  “Frank Fox, Carmen’s ex.”

  Nope. Never would have guessed that. “He came for the funeral?” My understanding was the funeral had been several days earlier. We hadn’t attended because I wasn’t sure it was appropriate to be there as the person who had discovered her body, but also because I felt like I didn’t know her.

  My grandmother had told me I was wrong, that I should have gone, but my mother had been on my side. She’d said, and I quote, “Good Lord, if I went to the funeral of everyone I encountered here, there, and everywhere, I’d be going three times a week.”

  Jake had been on my side, too. He’d said it was like going to your mailman’s funeral, or your physician. His mother disagreed. She was with Grandma Burke. She had told me I had a responsibility to attend because I had found Carmen’s body. I hadn’t wanted to argue with her, but I also really, really hadn’t wanted to go. It just felt like too much. I was actually having bad dreams about that pool of blood I’d seen on the dance floor and I didn’t want to have to explain to everything there who might ask who I was.

  Cave Girl didn’t want to answer questions, sue me.

  But that didn’t mean I didn’t feel guilty as hell about it, because I did because I wear guilt like an old sweater you’re reluctant to get rid of. That was also giving me bad dreams. The guilt, not sweaters.

  “He was here before the funeral. He was here before the murders. He’s been here since November. Moved back to town.”

  “That’s interesting.” It was. “Well, his son does live here.”

  “True. He doesn’t have an alibi for the night of the murders. Plus, he was heard arguing with Carmen at the studio by the woman who operates the bakery across the street. It turns out Frank owns the building the studio is in.”

  “What?” That was definitely interesting. “Was she paying him rent? Where did Carmen live?”

  “No rent. I guess that was their arrangement. Rent-free studio plus she lived in the apartment upstairs for years for free in exchange for not pursuing child support. But when she started dating Don and moved in with him in his house in Strongsville, she went back to court for back support. Pissed Frank off enough he moved back here to deal with it.”

  “Deal with it, huh?” That was definitely a red flag. “Don’t you think it’s weird that she was doing discount lessons as if she was financially pinched? Especially since she was living with Don?”

  “Don’t most people who run dance studios have day jobs? Something that provides a steady salary and health insurance? Carmen doesn’t appear to have done anything but run the studio for the last twenty-five years.”

  “Hmm. Plus, I guess sequins aren’t cheap.” Yet, Tippy-Toe was definitely a no-frills studio. It didn’t look like anything had been updated or replaced since she’d opened the studio. The wallpaper in the restroom was a hideous electric green with seventies-style flowers. It might have been awesome in ’77 but now it was just tired and ugly.

  I got what Jake was saying, but if Carmen had basically zero expenses related to the studio, where did her money go? Most likely, a healthy chunk went to her own personal ballroom competitions. Or to the lawyer who had been pursuing child support for her.

  “Not to be a jerk, but that studio is kind of a dump. It needs a refresh,” I said, hoping Carmen didn’t decide to appear to me right as I was trash-talking her life’s work. I was sure she’d been an amazing teacher, but that didn’t change the fact that the studio wasn’t state of the art.

  “Frank already has it up for rent. I’m sure even in its current state, it will get him some decent cash. It’s a great location.”

  Interesting. No grass was growing beneath Frank’s feet. “The diner owner next store said he wanted to expand. He’ll probably snap it up.”

  I was having a thought that Marner wasn’t going to like, so I was going to keep it to myself. I wanted in that studio. I realized that the police had already thoroughly combed through every inch of it, and gathered all relevant information but I still wanted to see for myself what the backroom setup was. I’d only been back there once briefly to use the restroom and I hadn’t paid much attention since I’d been so blinded by the restroom wallpaper.

  “How do you know what the diner owner next door wants?” Jake asked, giving me an amused glance.

  “I had lunch there. It’s vegan,” I said, like that explained anything.

  “I won’t be eating there, then.”

  Jake is a carnivore through and through. He acts like there is no way to actually have energy unless you’re consuming large quantities of beef. It doesn’t bode well for his future heart health.

  “I’m excited for brunch,” I said. “You know it’s my favorite meal ever besides Thanksgiving dinner.” I could take a bath in mimosas. They’re so deliciously juicy and fizzy.

  “I know. I thought you’d be more interested in Frank Fox. You’re being cool about the whole thing. Are you feeling okay?” He sounded more curious than actually worried.

  “I’m fine. I just don’t see what I can do in this particular case. Besides, Frank feels too obvious. He had to know he would be the number one suspect. I don’t think he could have cared at this point who Carmen was dating, do you? His motive would be financial, not personal.”

  “That’s a good enough reason for a lot of people. Maybe his rage boiled over that she was breaking their agreement and taking him to court.”

  He had a point. “True. But again, it seems so obvious. Besides, isn’t the son a senior in high school? How much longer would he even be paying child support? A couple of months?”

  “It would explain how the killer got inside the studio with no one noticing anything. He could have been upstairs in the vacant apartment for hours. Hell, days.”

  “Just lying in wait? Check the toilet seat and see if it is up or down,” I said. I had seen that one on a crime show. A female detective had noticed the seat was up in an apartment where a woman lived alone and had the seat swabbed for touch DNA.

  “Carmen moved out six months ago. I don’t think that proves anything.”

  That he was so quick to dismiss my suggestion annoyed me. “You’re the one who said he might have been squatting there.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not proof that he was there. Just that a man was, at some point. Or that a woman lifted the lid to clean the seat. Even if we proved he was upstairs, it wouldn’t matter because he owns the building. He has reason to be there.”

  It’s like he was a detective or something. So annoying. “Okay, so what would tell you someone had been in the apartment days before the murder?”

  I had my own ideas but I wanted to hear what he would say.

  “Food. Dust disturbed. Trash in the bathroom or kitchen that looks new.”

  It made sense. For a stranger. “I don’t think it would be smart for Frank to hide in his own building and leave fast food wrappers lying around.”

  “Probably not. But it’s also not very smart to kill someone knowing you’ll be the person who gains the most from that death and you’ll be the number one suspect.”

  “So you don’t think Frank did it?” I felt like Marner was going back and forth on me about Frank’s potential guilt.

  “I didn’t say that. I’m just thinking through all the possibilities.” He glanced over at me. “You want everything to happen right now and it doesn’t work like that.”

  “Tell that to Carmen and Jason,” I said. Of course, real life wasn’t like TV shows where it was instantly solved, but if any of those detectives had ghosts following them around, they would probably want it solved instantly. “What’s with Detective Smith, by the way? She acts like she hates me and I’ve never done anything to her.”

  “She doesn’t hate you.”

  When he didn’t say anything else, I was sorry I had asked. I hadn’t meant it to sound so high school, but Debby clearly had some kind of issue with me and now my boyfriend was going to deny it. I sighed. Marner doesn’t have the market cornered on sighs.

  “I had my heart set on that dance,” Mrs. Marner said.

  “I know, I’m so sorry,” I told her. I didn’t have strong feelings one way or the other, unlike my boyfriend. I could take or leave the dance.

  “Mom, we weren’t going to be ready with five lessons. It wasn’t going to happen. We’d need more like twenty. Dancing does not come naturally to me.”

  “I don’t know why not,” Mr. Marner said. “I’m very light on my feet.”

  Jake laughed. “Bullshit.”

  “Jake. Language,” his mother said, frowning at him.

  Yet another difference between our families. My mother would be the one swearing, not reprimanding. My mother also would have heard “brunch” and assumed we would be eating out. She would never in a million years have contemplated cooking and serving us brunch, which was what Jake’s mother had done. She had a gorgeous spread out on the table, with cloth napkins, and elegant serving ware.

  Even though I couldn’t cook like Mrs. Marner, I definitely appreciated her love of a good presentation. She never did anything halfway. I also enjoyed being in their house. It was a center-hall colonial build in the 1920s with tasteful updates over the years. The hardwood floors were a hundred years old and yet had a shine like they were brand new. There were enormous cased windows, leaded glass, and a brick sunroom bursting with ferns. Jake’s mother had spent her entire life living in the area, and by area, I mean a twenty-block radius. She frequently mentioned that once her husband retired, she wanted to go to Florida in the winters but that she would sell that house for nothing and no one. I believe her exact words were “this house will be sold over my cold and dead body.”

  Jake’s father seemed to have zero opinion about any of it. As long as he had control of the remote, he seemed content with his life.

  “Sorry,” Jake said. “But the dance isn’t happening.”

  “I always wanted to do ballroom,” his mother mused. “Now I would just like to go to one of those competitions or one of the Dancing with the Stars tours. Which is in town this week, I might add. But someone won’t go with me.” She shot a hopeful look at her husband.

  “Nope. Not happening.”

  “I’ll go with you,” I said. “It sounds fun.” It did. So much glamour and good music. Steps I could never hope to achieve. It would also be a fantastic excuse to talk to Raphael again. I could ask his advice on what competition to see.

  “See, Bailey will go with me. It’s so nice to have another woman in the family.”

  “It’s great,” Mr. Marner said.

  “It would be even better if we had another wedding to plan and then a grand-baby.”

  Jake sighed.

  I drained my mimosa.

  Eight

  “So what kind of business do you have?” Frank Fox asked me as he jangled a keyring full of keys outside the former Tippy-Toe studio.

  “Home staging. I work out of my house currently and I’m hoping that having a storefront office in a busy area like this could pull in some foot traffic.” Honestly, that was true. It was something I had been mulling over lately.

  Though this rent was probably too high for my current wallet, the concept was a sound one. You know, if my dance teacher hadn’t been killed here.

  Frank either didn’t know I had found Carmen’s body or didn’t care because he gave no indication he was uncomfortable at all. He was a big guy, like Don. Carmen definitely had a type. Well. Jason excluded. But Jason was just for fun. The two men she’d had serious relationships with could have been carbon copies of each other. Broad-shouldered, tall, thick builds. Bodyguard types. Frank was bald, whereas Don wasn’t but presumably Frank hadn’t been bald back when Carmen had first met him.

  He seemed congenial but that didn’t mean anything. I had certainly learned that the last few months.

  “That’s one of those jobs that forty years ago people would have thought was nuts,” he said.

  I couldn’t tell if he agreed with that assessment or not. I made a non-committal sound as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. A feeling of panic momentarily washed over me and I wasn’t sure why. Because of Carmen’s body or because I realized I would be alone with a potential killer?

  “You don’t want the apartment upstairs?” he asked. “There’s a discount if you rent both.”

  “No. I have a house.” I didn’t want to give details in case Frank was a murderer. I hadn’t given him my last name for the same reason. He didn’t seem that concerned about pumping me for details, so I was going to roll with it for now.

 

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