Deviled Egg Murder: Book 6 in The Bandit Hills Series Read online

  “Thank you,” Sarah says, taking the key. “Oh, and don’t worry about the shop,” she tells me. “We haven’t been very busy this morning. Your mom said I could pop over here real quick.”

  “No worries,” I tell her, smiling halfheartedly. I have bigger fish to fry.

  Sarah turns to leave again, and I hear a low growl coming from beneath Penny’s desk. Her dog, Duke, who is part-German shepherd and part-horse, sticks his large head out and curls a lip in Sarah’s direction.

  “Duke, stop it,” Penny scolds him. “Weird, he does that every time that girl comes in here. She must have a cat.”

  “Penny, can you tell me what room Carl is in, the guy that runs the Scream Asylum? I don’t know his last name.”

  “Carl? Yeah, he’s in room 237.”

  “Thanks, you’re the best.”

  I knock on the door to room 237 and wait for about a full minute before Carl opens the door a few inches and peers out at me. His eyes are bloodshot and his hair is disheveled, like he didn’t get any sleep… which is likely the case. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Hi Carl.” I smile as sweetly as can be, keeping in the back of my mind that Carl might have been Sally’s murderer. “I was hoping we could chat.”

  He blinks a few times. “Why?”

  “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. A little Bandit Hills hospitality.”

  He hesitates for a moment, but he opens the door and lets me in. The room is impeccable; the bed is made, the luggage is stowed away, and there’s not even any trash in the bedside bin.

  Carl closes the door behind me and offers me a seat in an armchair. He sits across from me on the edge of the bed, smoothing his pants with his palms.

  “Are you leaving?” I ask him.

  He shrugs. “I haven’t decided yet. Even if they let us reopen the Scream Asylum… I’m just not sure I’d want to.” He shakes his head and mutters, “I still can’t believe it.”

  “You were close, you and Sally?”

  He nods. “We were good friends, ever since high school.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It might help.”

  Carl sighs, rises from the bed and starts his trademark pacing, wringing his hands together. “Every time she had a jerk boyfriend, or problems with her folks, she’d come to me for a shoulder to cry on. I loved her like a sister.” He smiles at the memory.

  “Did you ever think of her as… more than that?” I prodded.

  He turns to me quickly. “Why would you ask that?”

  I shrug innocently. “I’m just trying to understand.”

  He narrows his eyes and scrutinizes me. “I’m not an idiot, Cassie. Are you trying to interrogate me or something?”

  I try to recall everything that Dash has imparted on me about questioning a potential suspect, but truth be told, most of the time I wasn’t paying much attention. I decide to play it straight. “Something like that. The police just arrested someone for suspicion of murder.”

  He perks up. “Really? Who?”

  “My boyfriend.”

  Carl scoffs. “The PI? No way. Why?”

  I tell him the story, the same way I told Donovan.

  “They have the wrong guy,” Carl insists.

  “Oh? What makes you say that?”

  He sighs and sits again, then thinks the better of it and continues to pace. “It’s kind of a long story.”

  “I’ve got time.” I don’t, really, but if I’m going to get to the bottom of this, I need Carl’s side of things.

  “Alright,” he says. “I met Donovan in college. We became fast friends. I introduced him to Sally, and they hit it off big. I have to admit, I got a little jealous. I started pursuing her romantically, too. Me and Donovan, we kind of made a gentleman’s wager over it. You know, who she would pick.” I try to imagine a competition between nervous, pacing Carl and Donovan, with his movie-star looks. “She sure took her time. For a long while it was neither of us. Or both of us. We’d both get to spend time with her, separately and together. I know it sounds strange, but as long as she hadn’t actually picked either of us, it was okay.”

  “Doesn’t sound strange,” I offer. “Sounds like you cared about her.”

  “Exactly. Well, shortly after college Donovan decided to start his own company, the record label. He got a real lucky break early on and made a boatload of cash fast. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Sally made her choice: She picked Donovan.”

  “That must have stung.”

  “It did, a little. But then I realized two things: First, that I didn’t really want Sally that way. I was too jealous over Donovan to see that. Second… and this is truly just between you and me…” He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, as if the walls have ears. “It was always about the money. Donovan had it.”

  “Had?”

  “Had. Past tense. See, his company’s going under, while mine is flourishing. In fact, Donovan has been so hard up that he couldn’t front anything for this year’s Scream Asylum. He waived his share of the profits in return for me paying for the setup costs.” He sits on the edge of the bed again and leans toward me. “Sally found out. She came to me and told me she was going to leave him.”

  “She was going to leave him… for you?” I venture.

  Carl stops pacing and frowns at me. “What? No. Like I said, I wasn’t interested in Sally that way. Not anymore. I am—or, was—her friend.” He blinks back the threat of tears. “And that was okay with me. But Donovan found out that she was going to leave him. He read her diary. And…”

  “And what, Carl?”

  He hesitates for a long moment, not making eye contact. “And I think he killed her because of it. If he couldn’t have her, no one could.”

  Jeez. My plan of finding some disparity between the two men’s stories has backfired on me in a big way—their stories are nothing alike. I could offer some sort of rebuttal to Carl’s claims, but I realize that I didn’t actually look at Sally’s diary for myself… and if Carl is right, I may have played right into Donovan’s hand by not doing so.

  “That’s a very serious accusation, Carl.”

  “I know. That’s why I haven’t said anything to the police about it.”

  “Have you talked to Donovan about this at all?”

  “Ha! No way. He’d destroy the diary immediately and hightail it out of here, I’m sure. That’s how he solves his problems.”

  “What about the part where someone knocked him unconscious?” I ask.

  “I haven’t figured that out yet,” Carl admits. “I don’t think he would have done that to himself.”

  “Well, we should probably figure that out, and soon. Dash is sitting in jail right now because the police think he did it.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry for that. Believe me, I want to avenge Sally just as desperately as you want to see him out of there.” Carl shrugs. “Besides, I’m losing money by the boatload every hour the Scream Asylum is closed.”

  A wave of rage washes over me, thinking about money when lives are at stake, but I swallow it and remind myself that I’m playing both sides here. “Here’s my number.” I hand him a business card for the shop. “Will you keep me informed? I want to help however I can.”

  “Definitely,” he promises.

  CHAPTER 10

  I get back to Miss Miscellanea tired, cranky, and not much further ahead than I was when Dash was arrested, other than deciding that this whole out-of-town crew is bonkers, and probably all liars to boot. I don’t believe either one of them, not completely. I can’t help but feel that both Donovan and Carl’s stories are made of partial truths. The fact that each is so adamant that the other is the murderer doesn’t sit well with me, either.

  “Where’s Sarah?” I ask Mom when I arrive back.

  “Beats me. She said she wanted to go down to the motel to pick up her wallet and never came back,” Mom answers. “Truth be told, she’s not much of an employee. She spen
t most of the morning painting her fingernails black, and then purple.” Mom shakes her head. “Then she offered to do mine.”

  Strange. When I was around, Sarah was a model employee.

  “Forget about her. How’s Dashiell?” Mom asks eagerly.

  I sigh. “You’re not going to like the answer.” I tell her the whole story, from the time he was arrested before her very eyes to the present. It’s pretty rare that I don’t leave anything out when I tell Mom about my misadventures; she tends to get worried and reprimand me for getting involved.

  But this time, she says, “That poor man. Cassie, you need to find out what happened here and get him out of there.”

  “I… yeah. Totally agree,” I tell her, surprised. “Glad I have your blessing.”

  Just then, Xerxes decides to let out an otherworldly mewl, so loud that it makes me jump. Xerxes is a giant Persian that wandered into my shop one day and then sort of… never left. He’s become Miss Miscellanea’s unofficial mascot, even though he’s mostly a pain in the rear. He sits perched atop curio cabinets all day long, and sometimes folks, me especially, tend to trip on him when he’s not even there.

  “Hush, Xerxes,” I tell him. He does it again, Mmmrrraaaaaoooowwww, and I narrow my eyes angrily. “Now is not the time, cat!”

  He gives me an angry look right back and leaps off the curio cabinet. In doing so, he pushes something square and black off the top of the cabinet and onto the floor, where it lands with a dull thud.

  I pick it up. It’s a vinyl wallet embroidered with one of those ornate Day of the Dead type skulls. I already have a hunch who it belongs to, but I flip it open to confirm. Sure enough, the driver’s license staring back at me through the little plastic window is a smiling Sarah.

  Now look, I’m not nosy. I don’t go out of my way to get in other people’s business, unless their business happens to also be my business—which in this case, it kind of is. Back in high school, I had a nickname, Curious Cssie. I was on the school newspaper and had a knack for… let’s call it investigative journalism.” (The school and most of the students called it “snooping” and “asking too many questions,” but what do they know?)

  So yeah, I look through Sarah’s wallet. Don’t judge me. I mean, how private can a wallet get? It’s not like I’m going to write down her credit card numbers or anything.

  Sarah’s wallet is pretty light, not surprisingly. Inside, besides her ID, is a debit card, a couple of department store credit cards, a customer card for a chain coffee shop (which explains why she’s always bringing me coffee; she’s two punches away from a free latte) and a couple of photos. There’s one of Sarah and someone that I assume is her mother by the striking resemblance. There’s one of Sarah, Carl, Sally and Donovan together, all of them a few years younger, probably from their college days.

  Oh, and behind that there’s a small photo of Sarah and Donovan kissing.

  I stare at the picture for longer than I should, mostly just to make sure I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing, as if the picture is going to change or something. Nope, still there. It looks like one of those photo-booth kind of pictures, possibly cut from the strip they give you. Sarah is sitting on Donovan’s lap, her eyes closed and her mouth open in a laugh, and his lips are pressed to her cheek.

  Interesting. If I had a beard, this is where I would stroke it thoughtfully. Maybe I can borrow Dash’s later.

  The door chimes behind me, and I turn to welcome the customer. Except it’s not a customer; it’s Sarah, returning from whatever she was doing when she said she was looking for the wallet she lost.

  The wallet that’s currently in my hands.

  Before I can even greet her, she arches a well-sculpted eyebrow and asks, “What are you doing?”

  CHAPTER 11

  I quickly stow the wallet behind my back. “Nothing. Why?”

  Sarah shrugs. “You look surprised to see me.”

  Phew! Behind my back, I tuck the photos back into their place and close the wallet. “Well, we were just wondering where you’ve been this whole time.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” she says, dropping her purse on the counter. “My wallet wasn’t at the motel, so I retraced my steps and tore my van apart looking for it. Still nothing!” She groans. “I can’t afford to lose it.”

  “Good news then,” I tell her, and I hand the wallet over, praying that I stuffed everything back in its rightful spot.

  “Oh my god, thank you!” she gushes. She flips it open, checks it out, and seemingly content, drops it into her purse. “You’re a lifesaver. It was here in the shop the whole time?”

  I have no idea how the wallet got on top of the curio cabinet, under Xerxes, but I don’t question that sort of thing anymore. “Yup,” I tell her, hoping she doesn’t ask any more questions. “Here the whole time.”

  She breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay, that drama is over. I’m all yours, for real this time. What do you need?”

  I put her on floor-sweeping duty and tell Mom she can head home.

  “Are you sure, sweetie?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go on, you’ve done enough.”

  “Cassandra,” she says gravely, “I don’t think I need to remind you how quickly word travels in this town.”

  “Faster than a jackrabbit on Red Bull.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing, Ma, keep talking.”

  “You need to get to the bottom of this and clear Dash’s name.”

  Thanks, Mom. As if I forgot. But I don’t say that. Instead I just say, “I know. And I will.” She gives me a hug and heads home with the promise that she’ll call later.

  I help a few customers and watch Sarah sweep the floor, planning my approach carefully. I haven’t gotten anywhere with Carl or Donovan, so I figure maybe she can help set the record straight.

  Once the shop is empty, I clear my throat loudly. “So, uh, Sarah… I never really said that I was sorry about your friend. It’s a terrible thing, what happened to Sally.”

  Sarah looks up at me and nods. “Yeah. It really is terrible. And I’m sorry about your boyfriend. He seems like a really nice guy. I don’t believe for a second that he did this.”

  Got her right where I want her, I think to myself, about to start a conversation about who she thinks it could have been, but before I can she continues.

  “I’m sure you saw yesterday that Sally and I didn’t exactly get along,” Sarah says, pushing her small pile of dirt across the floor. “We were never really that close. I really feel bad for Donovan, though. He really loved her.”

  “Yeah, I talked to him earlier.”

  She stops sweeping and looked up at me. “Really? What’d he say?”

  “He’s broken up. He doesn’t want to see anyone.”

  “I know.” She looks away. “I tried to talk to him too, while I was out. Sorry. I just needed to see if he was okay… but he told me to go away.”

  “You two are close, then?”

  “We were. Back in college, when I met Donovan and Carl, we were all really good friends. Me and Sally tolerated each other better back then.” She laughs a little. “They both wanted to be with her, you know. Carl and Donovan.”

  I lean over the counter, interested. “And what did you want?”

  Her cheeks turn pink. “Me? I just wanted friends.”

  “Come on, it’s just us girls here,” I prod, surprised at the words coming out of my mouth. I never talk like that, but Sarah doesn’t know it. “I’ve seen Donovan. He’s got money, movie-star good looks. You’re telling me he was always just a friend to you?”

  She rolls her eyes and smiles. “Alright, yeah, we dated for a short while in college. Like really short while—a couple of months. But we broke it off mutually. He was a business major and wanted to start his own company. I was a theater major and wanted to travel, be an actress. It wouldn’t have worked out.”

  “But you stayed friends.”

  “Yeah, totally. People can stay friends, you know. Of course, he ma
rried Sally, started his business, and went from there. After college I had a couple of bit parts, promising stuff, but my career hasn’t really taken off yet. When he and Carl started the Scream Asylum, I was one of the first people they called.”

  “Speaking of Carl, where does he fit into all this?”

  She leans the broom against the counter, abandoning her sweeping mission in favor of gossip. “He and Donovan met in accounting classes and became really good friends. Sally was Carl’s friend from high school, and I met the guys when we all acted in a haunted house together on campus.”

  “He seems like a nice guy, Carl.”

  “He really is. Shame about him and Sally. He always held a candle for her. I think it broke his heart when she married Donovan… which was real awkward. He was the best man at their wedding.”

  Aha! So Donovan wasn’t lying about that part. Though it doesn’t prove anything, it means Carl seriously underplayed his feelings toward Sally. I have to admit, I probably would too, if I were him; admitting how he felt about her might only make him a stronger suspect in the eyes of the police.

  “Do you really think you can catch whoever did this?” Sarah asks.

  “I hope so.” I want to say something cool, like “I’ve done it before,” but I don’t want to sound overconfident. But I have totally done it before.

  Sarah lowers her voice to a near-whisper, even though we’re the only two people in the shop. “Do you really think it could have been one of them? Carl or Donovan?”

  “I don’t know yet. All I can say is that it wasn’t Dash.”

  “And all I can say is that it’s probably the end of the Scream Asylum, for good.” Sarah shakes her head. “Do you want my take on this whole thing?”

  “Sure.”

  “I don’t think either of them could have done it…”

  “Well, that’s the thing about murderers, isn’t it? No one thinks they could do such a thing until after they’ve done such a thing.”

  “You didn’t let me finish,” Sarah says. “I don’t think either of them could have done it… unless they were pushed. And I think both of them were being pushed.” She stares at me for a long moment.