Panic Button Part 15

I was a theater major back in college; I'm pretty immune to sarcasm.

I turned the other way. "Did you leave Angela's house during the preview, Marci?"

Her shrug was so casual, it was as if we weren't discussing life and death. "I arrived, I left," she said. "But you can be sure I didn't slip out somewhere in between so I could race over here and kill Susan."

"Except you did know about the side door being unlocked."

Her breath caught. Marci's mouth opened and closed. "Everybody..." She stammered. "Everybody in town knows that Susan leaves that door open."

"But not everybody in town just happened to show up right after Susan was murdered."

My comment had been as casual as can be, but Marci went up like a Roman candle. "You think I killed her? Why would I? And don't say it's because I want her job. I've got my own museum and it's better..." Just for good measure, she kicked the wall with the toe of one pointy shoe. "It's better than this place."

That left Charles.

I strolled over to where he sat, his head in his hands. "You were certainly at Angela's," I said, and I think it was the first he realized I'd drawn near.

His head came up, and Charles sat back. "Of course I was. I was the host. You don't think I could have-"

"Who knows what could have happened?" I made sure my shrug was as casual as Marci's had been. "All that junk. All that commotion. Anybody..." I glanced at my companions. "Anybody could have come and gone and come right back before anybody else missed them."

"Well, it certainly wasn't me." Larry stalked to the door. "Tell Chief Barnstable I'll be at home," he said. "I'm sure he'll want to talk to me. Tell him..." He looked over his shoulder to the other room and his anger dissolved in a wash of tears. "Do you...do you think there really was a curse? That Susan was killed because she's agreed to bring the charm string into the museum?"

I couldn't answer, because honestly, I couldn't say. In fact, at that moment, all I could think was that the real bad luck was that Larry kept losing his girlfriends.

IT WAS HOURS later and Charles had gone home. So had Marci. By then, someone had come and taken Susan's body away, and the room where she'd been killed had been cordoned off with yellow tape.

Too edgy to sit still, I had spent the entire time walking around the Big Museum and thinking.

Both actions resulted in me ending up exactly where I'd begun, in the entryway just inside the front door with no more answers than I had when I started my trek. I could tell from the mumbled conversation going on in the photo room that Nev was wrapping things up with the local cops, and I went into the room with the pirate exhibit to wait. With no one around, I finally had a chance to read that poster about Thunderin' Ben.

"Great Lakes captain...pirate...gambling, prost.i.tution, thievery." I scanned the poster, reading the important words under my breath. "Buried treasure...life of crime...Ardent's most colorful son."

Certainly interesting, and in light of everything that had happened at the museum that day, a welcome diversion. While I was at it, I looked again at the exhibit that included Ben's diary and that mini-buoy, thinking- "Ready?"

When Nev came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder, I jumped.

"Sorry." He backed away instantly. "I should have known better. The murder has us all on edge."

"It's not that, it's just..." I turned and pointed to the exhibit. "I was just absorbed, that's all. And thinking that something here doesn't look quite right."

"Really?" Nev stepped forward for a closer look. "It doesn't look like anything's missing."

It didn't. And it had been a few days since I'd first seen the exhibit. For all I knew, the Big Museum owned lots of Thunderin' Ben memorabilia and rotated what it put out and what it put away. I shrugged off my reaction to the exhibit as inconsequential and suggested we get out of Ardent Lake and Nev agreed.

"It's too bad about Susan," he said once we were back in the car. "And I'm sorry you were the one who had to find her. That's never easy."

"No." As we drove out of town, I stared out the window, wondering what was going on inside each of the houses with their perfect exteriors. "But at least we know one thing. I think we can be pretty sure Susan wasn't our murderer."

Chapter Fifteen.

IT WAS NOT A GOOD WEEK, AND I WAS NOT IN A GOOD mood.

For one thing, Nev caught another case and it was a particularly sticky one, what with it having to do with a dead hooker and a prominent businessman. Nev had been busy, and we'd barely had time to talk except to plan a quick trip to the festival in Ardent Lake on Sat.u.r.day when he was hoping to get away for a few hours. Just for the record, there was no mention of the charming B and B where we'd been invited to share a room, and truth be told, I think that accounted for some of my grumpiness, too. It wasn't like I was ready to commit-to a night with Nev or anything else for that matter. But that didn't mean I wouldn't have liked him to mention it. Just so I'd know he was thinking what I was thinking and that what we were thinking was something that maybe we both wanted to think about.

In fact, if there was any silver lining to the gray cloud that had been hanging over me, it was that b.u.t.tons did not enter the picture in Nev's new case, so I was not called in to offer my expert advice.

So far, me being an expert was getting us nowhere fast when it came to Angela's murder, or Susan's; I didn't need to be reminded.

Two dead women. One charm string. One thousand b.u.t.tons.

And one stumped b.u.t.ton expert.

"There's Charles, of course," I mumbled, talking to myself about the short list of suspects since it was right before closing time and there was no one in the b.u.t.ton Box except me. "There's Marci. There's even Larry. There's..."

In the silence that surrounded me, my sigh echoed.

"There's n.o.body and nothing, and all I'm doing is wasting my time." I wailed, and dropped my head onto my desk.

It had been that kind of week, and I was getting tired of it.

And then, of course, there was Kaz.

With a groan, I got up to start through my usual closing routine. At least if I kept myself busy, I wouldn't (maybe) be so embarra.s.sed to admit that just a couple days earlier, I finally gave up, gave in, and called Kaz's supervisor down at the Port. Sam Podnowiak remembered me from back in the day when I was Mrs. Kazlowski, and he a.s.sumed I was looking for Kaz because...well, because I couldn't live without him, I guess.

I did not contradict this theory, mostly because it didn't seem worth the effort. Instead, I told him I was worried, and asked Sam if he knew what was going on.

"Sure." Sam is a big guy with a big voice, and even bigger opinions. When he chuckled and said I must have come to my senses and I was ready to get back together with Kaz, I knew it wouldn't get me anywhere to ask what the heck kinds of rumors my ex had been spreading. Instead, I clenched my teeth around a smile Sam couldn't see since we were talking on the phone, and said, as sweetly as I possibly could, "Of course I want to know, Sam. I wouldn't have called otherwise. Kaz is missing, and I'm worried."

"Missing?" Something about the bray of laughter on the other end of the phone actually helped loosen the knot of tension inside me. "I don't know about that," Sam said. "But I can tell you he took some vacation time."

"This much vacation time?" Kaz hadn't even taken two weeks for our honeymoon in Barbados.

"He had a lot of acc.u.mulated overtime hours coming," Sam informed me. "Said he wanted three weeks. What the h.e.l.l! The guy works hard. I told him, sure."

"And did he say what he was planning on doing with those three weeks?"

Since there was silence on the other end of the phone, I knew Sam was thinking. The way I remembered it, this was not an easy thing for Sam, so I cut him some slack.

"He didn't say," Sam finally answered. "Said he was going away, but didn't say where. Or for what. Actually, Josie, I figured maybe you and him were...you know, going off together somewhere on account of how Kaz, he's been telling us boys around here how you two might be getting back together again and I figured you were, like, you know, hooking up."

I am certain I'm not a rude person. So as not to contradict this opinion of myself, I bit my tongue before I could remind Sam that Kaz has the annoying habit of being something of a liar, and made an excuse about a customer coming into the b.u.t.ton Box.

"Vacation." I'd switched off the lights in the shop and put up the "Closed" sign, and I was in the back room grumbling while I retrieved my jacket and purse. Good thing, otherwise, I never would have heard the scratching on the back door.

A note about logistics here: There is a travel agency upstairs from the b.u.t.ton Box, and while I generally come and go through the front door of the building that leads directly into the shop, Emilie, my upstairs neighbor, always uses the back. The door from my back workroom leads into a postage-stamp-sized hallway, and that's where the stairs are, too, that go up to Emilie's place. From there, the back door opens onto that little courtyard behind the building.

To my knowledge, Emilie was as good as gold when it came to making sure that back door was always locked behind her.

Then again, if my theory was right about Angela's murderer trying to steal the charm string (and at this point, I wasn't sure anything was right), the murderer had gotten in that way-and into the bas.e.m.e.nt-the day Angela was killed.

"Emilie?" I called out, partly because if Emilie was out there and needed help, I didn't want to ignore her, but mostly because whoever it was, that person needed to know I was still around, and the shop wasn't empty. "Did you lock yourself out?"

No answer.

Except for a tiny rap on the door.

"I've already called the police." Yes, it was a lie, but it was all for a good cause. I grabbed the broom that sat in a corner by the back door, and holding the handle like a Samurai sword, yanked the door open and- "Kaz?"

He hotfooted it into the workroom and slammed the door behind him.

"Boy, am I glad you're here." Kaz was breathing hard. He leaned against my worktable. "I thought I was going to have to break into the place."

"Security system." I pointed toward the unit by the back door.

He fought to catch his breath. "d.a.m.n, yeah. I forgot. That would have made things a little tricky. I guess if you weren't here, I would have just had to go over to your place."

"Really?" I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped back, my weight against one foot. "Just like that?"

"Well, sure." Like he actually belonged there, Kaz went over to the fridge, got out a bottle of water, and downed it. "Thanks," he said, tossing the empty into my recycle container. "I owe you one."

"You owe me a lot. An explanation might be a good place to start."

"Oh, you mean for..." He glanced at the back door and gave me one of the patented smiles that had attracted me to him in the first place. Sweet as peaches and as hot as an August day. It was a heady combination, and I had succ.u.mbed in record time. "I didn't want to come in the front door," he simply said.

"Because the front door is too-"

"Public." He looked in the fridge again. I kept a small stash of yogurt in there, as well as a carton of orange juice, a loaf of bread, and a limited supply of deli meat for those days when I was busy and it was impossible to leave the shop. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked, but since he already had the bread and the turkey out, as well as a pack of cheddar cheese slices and a jar of mayo, there didn't seem to be much point. He slapped together a sandwich and wolfed down half of it before he said anything else.

"There's this guy," Kaz began.

And I knew exactly where the story was going to end.

"And he's looking for you because you owe him money." I threw my hands in the air.

So much for proving to my ex that nothing he did surprised me because he never did anything surprising. "Well, yeah," he said, unfazed and starting in on the second half of the sandwich. "You see, I was up in Wisconsin-"

"Wisconsin?" Call me crazy, but somehow, I'd expected something a little more exotic to explain his long absence. "All this time, I've been looking for you, and you've been in Wisconsin?"

The sandwich partway to his mouth, Kaz stopped. His grin was as bright as the sudden gleam that twinkled in his dark eyes. "You were looking for me, huh?"

I cursed my slip of the tongue and scrambled. "Not exactly looking. I mean, I was, but-"

He set down the sandwich and took a step in my direction. "Because you wondered where I was."

"Yes." That much was true, and there was no use denying it.

Another step and Kaz was close enough for me to see the tiny smear of mayo at the corner of his mouth. "You missed me."

Remember that whole bit about how crabby I'd been? And how tired? I guess it all sort of came to a head, so hey, n.o.body can fault me for snapping. Then again, if anyone on earth deserved a little comeuppance, it was Kaz. For all the things he was. And all the things he did. For all the times I'd thought I could change him and that one life-altering, heart-wrenching moment when I realized I never would.

My smile was as sweet as I could possibly make it when I said, "You're right, Kaz, I did miss you."

I wasn't imagining it, his shoulders really did shoot back a fraction of an inch. Kaz has great shoulders. Nice abs, too. In fact, Kaz is the total package when it comes to the looks department, and he looked especially delicious that night in b.u.t.t-hugging jeans and a gray T-shirt with a flannel slipped over it. I almost felt guilty making him feel so darned self-satisfied.

Almost.

I wiped the smile from my face and added, "It's hard not to miss the most annoying person in my life when he's suddenly not around being annoying anymore."

Kaz took the knock in stride. Then again, that's pretty much how Kaz takes all of life. Grinning, he backed off and grabbed the rest of his sandwich. "Hey," he said before he took another bite, "I'll take what I can get. At least you noticed I wasn't around."

"So?" He left the turkey and cheese out on the counter, and it was the first I remembered I hadn't had lunch. I took one slice of bread and made myself a half a sandwich. While I was at it, I put on a fresh pot of coffee. "What were you doing in Wisconsin? Who's after you? And why?"

I figured it was a long story so I settled myself on one of the high stools next to the worktable and dug into my dinner.

Kaz made another sandwich. "I was playing cards, that's all." He waved away the importance of that part of the story with one hand. "Some guy got bent out of shape. You know, because he won, and-"

"You didn't have the money to pay him what you owed him."

"It's not like that."

It was. I knew it because I'd heard the story a thousand times and seen that same look on Kaz's face. When he lies, his nose twitches just a little bit. It twitched now.

"I have every intention of paying him," he said. Twitch.

A couple bites of sandwich, and I was beginning to feel a little more human. Maybe I wasn't as tired and frustrated by my case as I was simply hungry. "So what was in Wisconsin?" I asked.

"The card game." I never keep things like potato chips around because when they are, I eat them, but Kaz checked the cupboards and I knew that's what he was looking for. He likes crunch with his sandwich, and pickles and celery don't fill the bill. He settled for a box of Triscuits and brought it back to the table with him, fishing out crackers two at a time and popping them into his mouth.

Like I said, I was feeling the teensiest bit mean-spirited so it was only natural for me to wait until his mouth was full before I asked, "The card game in that new tent you bought?"

Kaz stopped chewing. But only for a second. He swallowed and smiled, pointing my way with a cracker. "You went to my apartment."

"Well, what did you expect?" I got a Pepsi out of the fridge for Kaz. It was Diet. He would complain. Too bad, so sad. "I called, Kaz. Plenty of times. You never returned my messages. I figured-"

"You couldn't live without me?"

I was just getting milk out of the fridge for my coffee and it was a good thing the carton was closed, or the look I shot Kaz would have curdled its contents. "If you must know, I figured you were dead. You know, on account of how somebody was sick and tired of your lies." I poured the milk into my mug, put the carton back in the fridge, and slammed the door. "I was worried. At least for a while. I finally felt better when I realized what I was really feeling was disappointment because somebody got the satisfaction of offing you before I could."

"That's a good one." Kaz laughed and ate a few more crackers. "Say, now that you know where I live and that your key works-"