Peril for Your Thoughts (Mind Reader Mystery) Page 7

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Nothing good,” the detective responded, giving Jaz a meaningful look.

  “Yeah yeah, I get it. Poor choices.” She sighed. “Story of my life.”

  “I suggest you write a new story, or you won’t have much of a life left,” he said gravely.

  Speaking of having no life, the door chimed once more and in walked my PR rep, Natasha Newlander. “Well, thanks for the update, Detective, but Jaz and I have to go. Lots of work to do, right Jaz?” I smiled brightly as I stood and grabbed my purse.

  “Uh, sure, yup, you got it.” She stood beside me, glanced at the detective, and shrugged. “Later gater,” she said to him as she followed me out. “Hey, boys,” she hollered to the back, drawing everyone’s attention, which was the last thing I wanted to do. “Put our lunch on my account. Thanks darlings.” She wiggled her fingers.

  I glared at her. “Did you have to be so loud?”

  “What’s up with you?”

  “Her,” I said in a low voice, jerking my head to the side.

  “You mean the stylish woman staring at you from across the room?”

  I closed my eyes. Just peachy. Then opened them wide and worked up a smile as I turned around. “Great to see you, Ms. Newlander, but as you can see we were just on our way out. Lots of work to do, and all. You know how it is.”

  She didn’t say a word. Just tapped her watch as if to say, Clock’s ticking, Ms. Ballas, and we both know how it will be if you don’t turn in your book of designs soon.

  “What on earth was all that about?” Jaz asked.

  “Story of my life.”

  On our way home, Jaz begged me to stop by Full Disclosure. There was crime scene tape across the door, letting everyone know it was closed, but that didn’t matter to Jaz. Her store was her baby. She’d worked long and hard to make this place a reality.

  “I hate seeing it this way,” she said as she stared in the front window. “I might as well be wearing a scarlet letter. People have always judged me, but I owned that judgment. I am who I am, like it or not. But this … this isn’t fair at all. I’m being punished for one stupid mistake, one more bad choice. I certainly didn’t want Darrin Wilcox dead, but I wish I’d never laid eyes on him.”

  “I know. This stinks for sure. Innocent until proven guilty, remember? And we both know you’re not guilty, so you have nothing to worry about.”

  “Tell that to the judge.” She snorted, then stared down at the ground, her shoulders slumping a bit.

  “It’ll be okay.” I dipped my head down so she could see my face. “Just know I’m hugging you on the inside.”

  That got a lopsided grin out of her. “I know.”

  “Unfreakingbelievable!” Maria Danza came charging out of her pastry shop across the street, followed by some mousy-looking woman who seemed dazed and confused.

  Jaz snapped her spine straight. “Always good to see you too, Maria.”

  “Save it for the jury. I don’t think you’ll be seeing anyone for quite some time after they get through with you.” She dusted flour off her apron-covered curves, a fine white powder drifting in the air around us.

  “Maria, I don’t think—” I started to say, then coughed, wondering if flour dust would act like secondhand smoke in my lungs and what kind of damage it could do.

  “And you!” She thrust her plump finger in my face, and I was more than happy to take a step back where I could take in clean air. “Don’t even get me started. For some reason, she has completely fooled you. You’re so blind you can’t see her for who she really is.”

  “And what’s that, Maria? Please enlighten us.” Jaz crossed her arms over her chest.

  “A man whore.”

  “Well, that’s original.” Jaz smirked. “And actually incorrect. A man whore is a guy who acts like a whore, not a woman … kind of like your ex.”

  “Well, you would be the expert. I wish you’d be more original,” Maria spat. “You’re such a cliché. A hot South American woman who’s so insecure she can’t be happy with a man of her own so she has to steal everyone else’s.”

  “Look, I’ve told you a thousand times that Johnny said you two were through. I was under the impression he had already ended things. I had no idea you were still dating.”

  “Yeah? Then tell me something. Is it your fault that Darrin was still married?”

  “What?” Jaz and I both shrieked at the same time.

  Maria looked smug, and the poor woman beside her looked ready to burst into tears.

  “I can’t help it that men like me, but a husband stealer I am not. What the hell are you talking about?” Jaz asked.

  “Like you didn’t know Darrin Wilcox was married.”

  “Is married,” were the first words to come out of the mousy woman’s thin lips. “Is,” she repeated quietly.

  “Then why on earth was he on a dating website?” I asked, unable to process what I was hearing.

  “I don’t know. Daddy made him manager of his biggest car lot. We had everything we could want. He said he was going on a business trip, but I found out from Daddy that was a lie. Then I found his email to you, and his profile on the dating website. That’s how I knew to look for him here,” the woman said, finally staring Jaz in the eye. For the first time, she didn’t seem so mousy. She looked confused and hurt and angry enough to commit murder.

  “I’m sorry. What’s your name?” Jaz asked, appearing poleaxed.

  “Wilma Parks. Scott Parks is my husband. Darrin Wilcox is the alias he used to lure in floozies like you.”

  “In Jaz’s defense, she had no idea you existed or she never would have agreed to go out with him,” I said, having a hard time believing someone like him could have been married to a woman like her. They seemed worlds apart, unless he’d been in it for the money her father obviously had.

  “Oh, sure. I’ll believe that when my pastries sprout wings and fly off to Neverland.” Maria snorted.

  “I can’t believe he was married,” Jaz said, still in a daze. “This has to be my poorest choice yet. Scott Parks? No wonder they couldn’t find his next of kin.”

  Wilma gasped. “Next of kin? W-What are you saying?”

  “That this hussy didn’t just steal your husband. She killed him,” Maria said, her voice hissing with venom. “Darrin Wilcox. Scott Parks. It doesn’t really matter what he called himself. The man’s dead.”

  Wilma’s face turned ghostly white, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she hit the ground hard. And that’s the night that the lights went out in Clearview. All I could do was hope that no one was out to hang an innocent woman.

  CHAPTER 8

  * * *

  “I can’t believe Maria didn’t tell Mrs. Parks about her husband’s death,” I said to Jaz. “She had plenty of time, since they’d obviously been talking long enough for Maria to find out about his alias and his cheating.”

  “Maria claims she was about to direct Mrs. Parks to the police station and let them deliver the bad news, but then she got distracted when she noticed us outside. I bet she was stalling, hoping I’d show up so Mrs. Parks could confront me. That sounds more like the Maria I know.”

  “Either way, she handled the whole situation badly if you ask me,” I said, staring at the ambulance, hoping the woman would be okay. Just then the doors in the back opened and a man helped her out. He looked around, spotted us, said something to her, and then walked in our direction. Just my luck it had to be him.

  “How is she?” I asked Max Rolland the EMT-slash-firefighter whom I’d grown up with. He had a sandy-brown flattop hairstyle, gray eyes, a great body, and a big crush on me. He’d had a thing for me ever since we were teenagers. He knew about my quirks, but he said they didn’t matter to him. He found them charming. Of all the men in the world, I knew he would be the one who would never hurt me, but he just didn’t make my heart sing like … I derailed that crazy train of thought and added, “Will she be okay now that she knows her husband is dead?”


  Max came to a stop in front of me and placed his hands on his uniformed hips, looking like the centerfold in a Hunky Heroes calendar. “Hi, Jazlyn.” He smiled kindly at Jaz, who two-finger saluted him with a weary tilt to her lips, then he locked his gaze on me. “Kalli. It’s good to see you. It’s been a while.”

  “Sorry. It really is great to see you again. I’m just a little frazzled with everything that’s gone on.” I twisted my hands together. “How’s the family?”

  “Hangin’ in there. How’s yours?”

  “Resilient.” I blew out a breath, and he chuckled.

  “Mrs. Parks will be fine physically. Emotionally I’m not so sure. She finds out her husband cheated, only to learn he’s been murdered. That’s a lot to handle all at once.” Jaz groaned, and Max’s gaze shot to her. “Sorry, Jaz. No offense meant.”

  “None taken, Maximillian. You couldn’t possibly offend me any more than everyone else in this town has.” She stared off past him and then sighed deeply. “And here comes the most offensive person yet.”

  Detective Boomer Matheson pulled into the parking lot of Full Disclosure and cut the engine to his cop car. He slid his long, lean body out of the door and ran a hand through his unruly russet-colored hair, scanning the area. He really wasn’t Jaz’s typical type—big, blond, and buff—yet she’d gone out with him longer than she had any other man. No matter what she said, I had always thought the only reason they broke up was because he wanted more and she got scared. I couldn’t imagine him as the killer, but I supposed anything was possible. And she was right. If anyone would know how to commit murder and get away with it, he would.

  His hazel eyes settled on Jaz, and for a fleeting second I could swear I saw them soften, but then he donned a neutral expression, squaring his shoulders as he made his way over to us. “Hey, Rolland. Any updates on the widow?”

  “She’s well enough for you to question, but go easy on her. She’s a bit fragile.”

  I remembered the look she’d given Jaz, I thought, and fragile had been the last adjective I would have used to describe her at that moment.

  “Great,” Detective Matheson responded. “Why don’t you get her settled in my cop car and let her know I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Will do.” Max gave me one last, longing look, nodded once, and then walked away.

  “Poor Boomer. Nothing better to do than torture innocent victims. Must be a slow day,” Jaz said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “Torture innocent victims?” He barked out a laugh. “That’s rich coming from you. Last I checked you were the one leaving innocent victims in your wake.”

  “Oh, please.” She flicked her hand in the air. “Sounds to me like someone can’t handle rejection.”

  He parted his sport coat, dropping his hands to his hips and leaning in close. “More like someone can’t handle genuine affection.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes as though I wasn’t even there, and my gut told me I was right. Jaz did care about him, a lot more than she was letting on.

  That was the problem.

  She was the first one to look away. “I can handle affection just fine, but the last thing I want is an adoring puppy dog. I prefer cats.”

  “And that’s exactly what you’re going to end up being if you don’t change your ways. A little old spinster cat lady.”

  “I could think of worse things.”

  “So could I … like life in prison.”

  “I’m sure it won’t come to that because Jaz is innocent,” I interjected.

  Boomer looked at me like I didn’t have a clue. “Jazlyn Alvarez might be a lot of things, but innocent isn’t one of them.” He sounded sincere, but innocent of what I wasn’t quite sure. His gaze shot back to hers and held her captive. “Everyone has to pay for their sins at some point, Jaz. Looks like yours are finally catching up to you. Enjoy your freedom while you can, princess.”

  “I always do and don’t plan to stop now.” She licked her lips and blew him a kiss.

  He clenched his jaw, and a muscle pulsed in his cheek. For the first time ever, I actually felt something like sympathy for him. I reached out and touched his arm without thinking and was bombarded with his thoughts screaming in my ear. Damn you, woman. Why do I let you do this to me? Why do I even care?” He shrugged off my hand, still glaring at Jaz, and then stormed away.

  “Oh, that man makes me so angry I could scream.” Jaz clenched her hands into fists.

  “And why do you think that is?” I asked her, crossing my arms and tapping my foot. My own frustration with her was quickly rising to the surface.

  Her gaze snapped to me. “What are you getting at?”

  “Just that love and hate are two emotions that are much closer than you might think. You, my dear, are your own worst enemy.”

  “Oh, no. Don’t even go there, sister. You have no room to talk, and that man makes me crazy.”

  “Which is exactly why you care more about him than you are willing to let on, and you’re right. I do know what you’re going through. I’m going crazy too, I’m just not a suspect in a murder investigation.”

  “Now you’re the one making me crazy.”

  “Well, if you had heard his thoughts, you’d know where I was coming from. That’s all I’m saying.”

  She frowned. “He hates me.”

  “Like I said … love and hate—one and the same. You’d be surprised how much he still cares as well.”

  “He sure has a funny way of showing it, and it doesn’t matter anyway. My life is a mess.”

  “I hear that loud and clear, and trust me when I say I feel your pain.” I wasn’t much of a partier, but right now I thought she could use something to lift her spirits. “Wanna go get a drink?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Later that night, Jaz and I finally returned home. I’d only partaken in one drink hours earlier, being the designated driver, but Jaz had quite a few. Tipsy didn’t begin to describe the overstressed fiery woman who had needed desperately to forget her troubles, if only for a moment, and let loose. And let loose she had, all over anyone within earshot.

  I noticed Detective Stevens’ car next door, so he must be home. Ignoring the odd pull in that direction, I helped Jaz into our half of the house. I went to unlock the door, but it already was. For a moment, I thought maybe I’d left it unlocked, but that couldn’t be. I always checked the locks three times before going anywhere. I was afraid to open the door and find out what that meant. Sucking in a fortifying breath, I pushed the door open wide and stepped through, hauling a giggling Jaz along with me.

  Her giggling stopped.

  We both stared.

  And then Jaz screamed for all she was worth.

  “What’s wrong?” Nik bellowed as he charged through the door in record time, almost as though he’d sat ready and waiting for something to go wrong. Yet he wore sweatpants, a tank top and bare feet like he’d been relaxing before bed.

  “Someone knocked my plant over. Look at my white rug. It’s a mess,” Jaz wailed.

  “Are you kidding me?” Nik gaped at her. “That’s why you screamed?”

  Jaz just shrugged. “I needed a good scream, but I feel better now.”

  “Glad to hear one of us does,” he muttered, running a hand wearily over his whiskered face.

  “I think we’ve been robbed,” I said, pointing to the mess before me to take my mind off his way-too-casual appearance. He was far more muscular than I had realized, and it disturbed me greatly. And Jaz’s scream hadn’t helped. I focused on the situation at hand. Tables had been overturned, cupboards ransacked, drawers emptied.

  “I still can’t believe she screamed like that. I thought someone else had been murdered.” He ran his hand through his dark waves before asking, “Do you see anything that’s missing?” Detective Stevens was in full cop mode once more, but it was still hard to focus with him dressed that way.

  “Just you, sillypoo,” Jaz said, giggling as she p
oked him in the chest, her ruined white rug forgotten. “We missed you, Nikos. Or at least Kalli did. I’m not too fond of detectives at the moment.” She hiccupped.

  “She’s drunk?” he asked me, raising his dark eyebrows sky high and ignoring her comment, thank goodness.

  “That she is,” I answered, closing the door behind us and kicking off my shoes.

  “Why?” he asked, his gaze flicked down to my feet and then quickly back to my face.

  “Detective Boomer Matheson,” was all I had to say.

  “Ahhh.” Nik rubbed the back of his neck. “I should call this in.”

  “No!” Jaz stated firmly. “This is my house, and I choose not to report it. I have had my fill of cops, no offense, Detective Dreamy.”

  “None taken, but I think you’re making a mistake.”

  “It’s my mistake to make. Mmmm, and I’d like to make a milkshake with Kahlua.” She headed off to the kitchen.

  “Why not?” he said.

  “Pardon me?” I sputtered.

  “I’m off duty and frankly, I’m in the mood to join her.”

  “In getting drunk?” I asked, aghast.

  “No,” he called over his shoulder as he headed to the kitchen after her. “But I definitely think this never-ending day calls for something stronger than coffee.”

  “The cupboard over the stove. Jaz has all sorts of stuff. Help yourself. I’m going to put her to bed and change into something more comfortable.”