Sinister Sprinkles Part 16

"Ordinarily I'd volunteer, but where exactly do they live? I'd hate for anything to happen to my company car, and if the two of them live out in the country, the roads might not be plowed yet."

"So if something happens to one of our cars, it should be to my Jeep and not your Mercedes, right?" I asked with a slight smile.

"Suzanne, not to be mean about it, but what's one more ding on your car going to matter?"

"I'd love to argue with you, but I can't," I said as I laughed. "Let's go."

"In your Jeep, right?"

"Right," I said. Apparently Kimmi and Darlene lived on the outskirts of April Springs, and from the address, I was guessing it was in a trailer somewhere out in the sticks. I was pleasantly surprised when I discovered a quaint old cabin at the address I'd found in the telephone book. It wasn't run down at all. As snow layered on the roof, it made the place look like it belonged on a calendar page, and I wondered how these two women could afford the rent for a place as nice as this looked.

We walked up the steps and rang the door bell twice, but no one answered.

"n.o.body's home," Grace said.

"Give it a second," I said. This time I used the bra.s.s knocker, giving it a hard set of raps.

The door opened almost immediately, and inside, we found a girl in her mid-twenties dressed in a tight white t-shirt and a pair of red short shorts that looked like they'd been painted on. If I had a body like that, I'd probably go around wearing the same thing myself. She said a little breathlessly, "I'm Kimmi. Sorry, I was just doing my yoga. Come on in, I'm almost finished."

This girl had no idea who we were, or why we were visiting her, but she opened her home to us like we were long-lost friends.

Kimmi got back on a bright blue mat in front of the wide-screen television, and hit a b.u.t.ton on her remote control. As she dropped into a pose that would have sent me straight to a chiropractor, I looked around the room. It was wonderful and homey, with a fire burning in the stone fireplace. Darkened hardwood floors glistened with sh.e.l.lac, and heavy wooden furniture matched the structure of the house itself.

As Kimmi contorted her body, she said, "We can talk right now. I know this part by heart."

"We were just driving by, and I have to tell you, I love this house," Grace said. "Do you own it, or are you renting it?"

"Neither," she said. "My dad's letting us stay here until he can sell it. Well, it's just me now, and he's not crazy about me living by myself." She looked over at us, then asked, "Do either of you need a place to stay? I'm looking for a roommate so I don't have to leave."

"I might be interested," Grace said.

I looked at her and tried to keep my mouth closed. Grace winked at me, and said to Kimmi, "Could I see your extra bedroom?"

"Sure, but there's still stuff in there, and it's a real mess. My roommate ... moved on," she added lamely.

I suppose you could call dying moving on, but Kimmi didn't strike me as the metaphorical type.

Grace nodded. "Where is it?"

Kimmi pointed with a free foot. "Down the hallway and on the left. It's the only door that's closed. I'll be with you in three minutes."

As we hurried down the hallway, I said, "You have a perfectly good house of your own. Why would you want to live here?"

"To be honest with you, my place has lost some of its charm since somebody broke in and went through my stuff. Having a roommate might not be a bad thing."

"Are you telling me you're actually considering living with Bambi?"

"Her name's Kimmi," she said as she opened the door. "We came to snoop, so I got us through the door. What more can you ask for? Now let's start digging before she finishes that howling dog pose she's doing."

"I don't think that's what it's called," I said.

"I don't care if it's called dog and hydrant," she said. "Hurry up. We don't have much time."

I looked around the room, and saw Darlene's sad little attempt to decorate for the holidays. There was a small artificial tree on top of the dresser-complete with twinkling white fiber optic lights-and tiny little boxes were wrapped as presents and arranged under it. All of that sat on a blanket of cotton that had been spun to resemble fallen snow. On her nightstand, she had a familiar wooden tree six inches tall covered in gumdrops. For a second I thought I was seeing things. I had the exact same tree myself, and up until that moment, I thought I had the only one in town, but apparently I'd been mistaken. On the other nightstand, there was a folk art Santa, a thin woodcarving that was nearly two feet tall. Ragged and worn at the edges, this Santa didn't look jolly at all. Instead, the woodcarver had chosen an intricate, sad face, with eyes that showed how tiring it must be to deliver presents all around the world in just one night.

I was suddenly aware of Grace standing by my elbow. "Suzanne, we don't have all day. I'll go through her closet, and you check out her purse."

It made sense, so as she began rooting around inside Darlene's closet, I emptied her purse on the bed. There was a collection of business cards there that I found odd, until I looked on the backs of them and saw several different telephone numbers scrawled on them. I shoved them all into my pocket so I could look at them later. There was nothing else inside that really helped-just a mishmash of car keys, makeup, lip balm, and other flotsam and jetsam a purse tends to acc.u.mulate over the years-so I shoved it all back into her bag and put it back on the bed. It felt like I was violating Darlene somehow as I went through her things, but in a way, I was trying to help her. I was sure she'd thank me if she could for trying to find out who had really killed her. I found a bookcase bulging with paperback novels, and I leaned over to read a few of the t.i.tles. They were all romances, and from the looks of the spines, they'd been read and reread many times. I felt a twinge of sadness for her when I realized that she had just been looking for someone to love, but when I remembered that the someone she'd set her sights on had still been my husband at the time, some of my sympathy started to wane. Still, I knew as well as anybody else that it wasn't easy being alone. I just wished she's stuck to men who were free to return her affection.

"Look at these," Grace said. I joined her at the closet and looked inside. It was evident that Darlene had an odd fondness for spiked pumps with seven-inch heels, especially for a woman who stayed on her feet all day.

"These are nice," Grace said. "I'd borrow a pair, if I could. Have you found anything yet?"

"Not really," I said, and then I spotted it. Tucked inside on of the shoe boxes in back of Darlene's closet was the edge of a hundred-dollar bill.

"What's that doing in there?" I asked as I retrieved the box.

As I opened the lid, I'd expected to find more money-maybe even stacks of it-but what I found there rocked me back on my heels, and I nearly dropped the box as I looked inside.

Before I could show Grace what I'd found, the door burst open, and I knew that we'd been caught.

How on earth was I going to explain this?

CHAPTER 8.

Kimmi asked heatedly, "What are you two doing in her closet? I didn't mean you could snoop around."

"We didn't know her things were still here," I said as I covered up the box lid and hid it from her view. "Why did she leave everything behind?"

Kimmi wasn't budging, though. "You still haven't told me why you were snooping around in there."

"We weren't snooping," Grace said indignantly. "I had to see how big the closets were, didn't I? Wouldn't that be the first thing you looked at if you were thinking about moving into a new place?"

"I guess that makes sense," she said as she rubbed her ear. "I just can't get used to the fact that she's gone." Kimmi took a deep breath, then said, "I should probably tell you, my roommate didn't move away. Somebody killed her."

I had to make sure she thought we didn't already know that. "That's terrible. Did it happen in here?" I pretended to look around for bloodstains, and Kimmi caught my implication.

"No, it happened in town." She frowned a second, then looked at me and said, "I know you. You run that place, Donut Darts."

"It's called Donut Hearts," I corrected her. "I heard someone died, but I never found out who everybody was talking about."

"You're Max's wife," Kimmi said guardedly, and I was beginning to realize that I may have underestimated the girl's intelligence, or at the very least, her knack for local lore.

"I'm his ex-wife. Why should that matter?"

I looked at the dresser where I'd seen a photo of Darlene and Kimmi together earlier. "It wasn't Darlene Higgins who was killed, was it?"

"She was my best friend," Kimmi said as she nodded.

I glanced at Grace, took a step closer to the bed so I'd be certain I'd hit it, then I let myself collapse.

"She's fainted," Grace said as she hovered over me. "Go get me some water. Quickly."

As soon as Kimmi went after my water, Grace whispered, "What was in that box, anyway? We just have a few seconds."

"Go look," I said, refusing to move.

Grace grabbed the box, flipped it open, and then must have seen what I'd seen.

"It's a picture of you," Grace said. "What's it doing in here?"

"You're asking me? I almost fainted for real when I saw it. There's five tattered old hundred-dollar bills in there too, and something that looks suspiciously like a lock of Max's hair. What was she up to?"

"I don't know," Grace said, "but I'm taking this with us." She emptied the box and slid the contents into her purse just as Kimmi arrived.

She handed Grace the water, then asked, "You're not going to pour it on her, are you? I don't want the bed to get soaked."

Knowing Grace, that was exactly what she had in mind. It was time to end my part of the charade.

Letting my eyelids flutter, I pretended to come to. "What happened?"

"You fainted, Suzanne," Grace said as she got close to my face.

"It was the shock of it all," I said. "Suddenly I'm not comfortable staying here anymore. Can we leave?"

"I think that's for the best," Grace said as she helped me up.

"Are you going to be all right?" Kimmi asked me. There was genuine concern in her voice, and I felt bad about duping her, even if it was for a good cause.

"I'll be fine. It was just the shock of it all, you know?"

"I guess so." Kimmi turned to Grace. "What do you think? Would you like to move in here with me? I can have her things out of here by tomorrow."

"I'm going to have to think about it," Grace said. "I'm afraid there's some kind of bad karma in here."

"The car's out in the garage," Kimmi said, obviously misunderstanding. "I don't know who to call about it, since it belonged to Darlene."

"I wonder if it will be for sale," Grace asked. "I'm looking for new transportation so I won't have to continue relying on the kindness of strangers."

Kimmi said, "It's never been a problem for me. If I need a ride, I just call one of the guys I work with, and they come right over and pick me up."

"What do you do?" I asked, not able to resist the question.

"I work for my dad. He's a contractor, and he has lots of nice men working for him. I'm his secretary, and they all seem to like me."

"I don't doubt that for one second," I said, knowing they would come running at her slightest whim, especially if they saw her dressed as she was at the moment.

"You're sweeter than I thought you'd be," Kimmi said to me. She must have realized how I might take that, because she quickly added, "Not that I didn't think you'd be nice before. Sometimes hearing things from Darlene, I think she was really jealous of you."

"Why on earth would she be jealous of me?" I asked, startled by the admission.

"Max loved you, and Darlene believed he always would. That's something a lot of women would give anything to have."

"I guess so," I said. "I never really thought about it that way."

"Well then, maybe you should," she said. "Let's see, her keys are around here somewhere. There's her purse, I bet they're in there."

I felt my back stiffen as she reached for Darlene's purse. Would she notice the missing business cards, or that the purse was more disheveled than normal from my impromptu search? Fortunately, she didn't even bat an eye as she reached in and pulled out a heavy key ring that I'd examined and discarded earlier. As we walked outside, I saw that Darlene favored a black Trans Am, a particular favorite of some of the younger women in town.

Grace plucked the keys out of Kimmi's hands, then said, "Why don't you two chat while I have a quick look."

As she ducked in through the driver's side door, I asked Kimmi, "How long have you and Darlene known each other?"

"She used to babysit me, can you believe that? I never thought we'd get to be friends, but we did. When Dad finished redoing this house, he offered it to me rent-free for six months, and Darlene was thrilled to move in with me. She was living back home with her mother. Can you believe that? It's too pathetic to think about. I mean come on, grow up and leave home already, you know?"

I felt my cheeks redden, and wondered if Kimmi was taking a shot at me, but there wasn't an ounce of guile in the girl's expression.

"I'm sure she had her reasons," I said.

"I can't imagine what they'd be," Kimmi said.

We were both stranded at a loss for words when Grace handed Kimmi the keys. "Thanks for letting me look."

"Aren't you even going to start it? It runs great."

"I'll bet it does, but I need something with a little more room," Grace said.

"I can see that. Maybe Daddy will buy it for me," she said as she frowned at the car. To my credit, I withheld the sarcastic comments swirling around in my head, as she added, "I guess I could always learn to drive. How hard could it be?"

As we got back into the Jeep, I pulled away. "That was a great idea. Too bad it didn't pan out, but it was worth checking, anyway," I said.

"What are you talking about?"

"The Trans Am. I'm just saying, not every lead can have a clue."

"This one did," Grace said as she smiled at me. "Yours wasn't the only photo Darlene had in her possession. What do you think of this?"

She handed me a snapshot from her jacket pocket, and I saw that it was of Muriel Stevens, dressed in her signature multicolored jacket.

I frowned as I studied the photograph. "What does it mean, though?"