Blonde and Fabulous Page 6

  "That sounds great. Do you want to meet at my place?"

  "Absolutely," he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "I also have a little info for you about that case you're working on. I'll tell you everything over dinner."

  "Awesome. See you in an hour."

  "Be careful, babe," he said then disconnected the call.

  Ten minutes later, I pulled onto my street and slowed down. I didn't want to take the chance of hitting Mr. Kasmire's horrid little dog, Buster.

  Now, don't get me wrong, I loved animals, but Buster, his owner, and I had a history. And not a pretty one, at that.

  Old man Kasmire was eighty years old if he was a day, with a shiny bald head on top with wild wisps of snow white hair ringing the sides and back like a halo, even though he was far from being an angel. He walked with a little bit of a hunch, always wore the same red and blue striped suspenders and matching house slippers (even when he was wearing shorts or sweatpants), and was as crotchety as they come. I'd never met a person as grumpy as Ernie Kasmire, and I'd met a lot of people over the years.

  I was about to pull into my driveway when I spotted Mr. Kasmire standing completely still on his front lawn, staring at my yard. For a second I wondered what he was doing and if he was alright. It took me a moment to realize exactly what he was staring at as I parked.

  I got out and slammed the door. My cheeks burned with anger.

  That little rat-dog Buster was squatting down on my front lawn doing his business beside my shade tree. The shade tree I liked to read a book beneath in the springtime. The same tree where Mrs. Grady and I had tea and cookies every Saturday afternoon that I wasn't working.

  At first I had the urge to scream at the old geezer and fling the poo right at him like some raging monkey at the zoo.

  No matter what I did or how hard I had tried over the months to mend fences with the old coot, he would have none of it.

  Mr. Kasmire was of a mind that a woman my age should be married and settled down with a passel of kids, not chasing cheaters, murderers, and thieves. He didn't like my cats, even though they were strictly inside pets, and he disapproved of my relationship with Tyler, even though he was the one who thought I needed a man.

  Upon our first meeting, almost a year ago, Old Grouch Kasmire had told me as much. His furry little dog, who deeply resembled his owner with his bald patches, white facial fur, and bad attitude, had taken it upon himself to promptly approach me then look directly into my eyes and pee on my new shoes.

  In turn I'd threatened to take him to the pound one day when the old man wasn't looking.

  Since that day, the three of us had been the bane of each other's existence.

  I stomped across the driveway about to confront Mr. Kasmire when my next-door neighbor Mrs. Grady stepped off her front porch and hurried across her lawn. Her whitish blue hair bobbed with her every step.

  "Ernie Kasmire, shame on you," she said as she crossed the street. Her little pale face pinkened with anger. "That's disgusting, letting that little demon of yours take a poo on someone else's lawn." She marched right up to him, waggling her finger at him the entire time. "Barb hasn't done a single thing to you. You need to stop being such a butt toward her right now. I've just about had enough of you and your sour-puss attitude."

  Mr. Kasmire took a step back, his mouth opening and closing like a gasping flounder as he held up his hands.

  I watched in admiration at how Mrs. Grady stood up to the old goat.

  "Now, get your old rear over there and clean up that little rat's mess before I really get angry," she finished and propped her fists on her thin hips. "I'm sure your daughter wouldn't appreciate a call from me about this."

  When Mr. Kasmire stood there staring at her with disbelief, she snapped. "Move!" And she pointed her finger at my lawn.

  I'd never seen the old man move that fast. He did an about-face and hurried into his house. Buster run-waddled across the street and trailed along behind him.

  "That old fart is such a pain. I often wonder if he's always been such a grump or if he just decided he was of an appropriate age to do so." She shook her head and came to stand beside me then crossed her arms across her chest.

  "I'm thinking he might have always been the way he is," I said. "I can't imagine anyone becoming that mean overnight. He's stubborn."

  "Pigheaded is more like it," she said and shrugged.

  A moment later we watched as Mr. Kasmire exited his house with a small blue plastic bag in his hand. He stomped across the street to my shade tree, groaned like he was going to break into pieces as he bent down, and gathered his dog's business.

  The look he gave me as he slowly stood back up would've made the devil cringe. Then he glanced at Mrs. Grady and scrunched up his face even more before turning and stomping back across the street and into his house. Buster was right beside him every step of the way.

  "How do you do it?" I asked in awe. "I could scream at that old goat until I was blue in the face, and he'd stand his ground until I spontaneously combusted. But you, one cross look from you, and he's hopping-to like you're a drill sergeant, and he's fresh to boot camp."

  Mrs. Grady laughed. "I was a high school teacher for thirty-five years." She patted my shoulder. "I know a thing or two about getting hardheaded people to do what you want them to."

  I laughed and shook my head. "Would you like some tea, Mrs. Grady?"

  "Oh, no thank you, honey. My son is supposed to be here any minute. We're going to dinner at the Olive Garden." She smiled, and her pale green eyes danced in the dimming evening light. "I hear it's delicious."

  "It is," I assured her and laughed lightly.

  "Well, I better be going." She patted my shoulder in a motherly manner again. "Take care of yourself, and I'll see you tomorrow." She waved as she turned and hurried back to her house. I watched her until she reached her front door and went inside.

  Mrs. Grady was one of my favorite people in the entire universe. I know that's saying a lot, but she was one of those truly good people. The kind that was so rare that when you found them, you just had to keep them close.

  She and I had a special arrangement. Every Wednesday night we shared her homemade tamale casserole, and I helped her with the weekly crossword puzzle. Now that I knew she had been a high school teacher in the past, my suspicions were confirmed that she really didn't need my help with the puzzle but rather enjoyed the company instead. I enjoyed her company, too, so I wasn't about to mention that I knew what game she was playing. I smiled and then jogged up the front steps, unlocked my front door, and went inside.

  Mickey, my black cat of about eighteen years, was sprawled out across the sofa like he owned it, and in a way I guess he did. I smiled at his graying fur as he snored lightly. He was so old he made Mr. Kasmire look young. He lifted his head up and looked at me with an uninterested expression then lay his head back down and went back to sleep. Blue, on the other hand, came bounding into the living room, a fluffy little ball of grey and white energy, and wound his way around my ankles. I reached down and scooped up the soft, fuzzy little fella and snuggled him against my cheek. Blue had been abandoned by accident when his owner passed away, and I had fortunately stumbled upon him. Since bringing him home, he had settled in with Mickey and me just fine.

  As much as I wanted to relax and forget about the case for a few hours, my brain wouldn't allow it. I tried taking a shower and putting on some cozy yoga pants, but the who, what, and why of it all kept running through my mind on a constant loop.

  From the little bit of information I'd gathered from Cindy and Kiki's mom, Lana, Fernando seemed the most likely suspect in Kiki's murder, but there was still so much I needed to consider. Okay, sure, he could've killed his girlfriend for some crazy reason, but then what would be his reason for killing Tammy? Perhaps she saw or overheard something, and killing her was simply tying up loose ends.

  There were too many similarities in both murders for me to believe that there was more than one killer.
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  I was wrapping my hair in a towel when I heard the front door open.

  "Barb? I'm here." Tyler called out. The beep of him resetting the house alarm and the rattle of glass bottles reached my ears.

  I stepped out of the bedroom and walked down the short hallway.

  "I come bearing gifts," he said in a teasing tone and held up a pizza box in one hand and a six-pack of beer in his other.

  "You're the best, you know that?" I said as I hurried over and tiptoed up to give him a quick kiss on his full, firm lips.

  He smelled like he always did. The enticing, musky, manly scent that was wholly Tyler. He smiled down at me then followed me to the sofa.

  Mickey glared up at me, growled low in his throat, and then took his sweet time getting down and trudging toward my bedroom.

  "That cat is a major grouch." Tyler laughed.

  "That cat is old." I chuckled. "I think he's earned the right to be a grump."

  "You're right. If I were ancient I'd probably be a bit of a grouch myself," Tyler said.

  We settled in on the oversized sofa and turned on some cheesy action flick, more for the background noise than anything else. The sound of someone eating drove me to the brink of insanity.

  "How's the investigation going?" Tyler asked me as he popped open the pizza box. The scent of cheese, sauce, and a whole lot of meat wafted up to me.

  "Slow," I answered honestly, trying not to drool over the yummy-smelling pizza.

  "Well, babe, it's only been one day." He chuckled. "You can't expect to solve every case you get in just a couple of days. Especially a murder case."

  I rolled my eyes. "I know that. I guess I just thought I'd have a little longer list of suspects to start out with after talking to Cindy and Kiki's mom, Lana. Tammy was only killed two weeks ago, but Kiki was murdered a month ago, and from what I gathered from Cindy and Lana, the cops have diddly to go on."

  "Yeah, I didn't find out much on the case either, and after I found out who's heading up the investigation, I understand why," Tyler said with a hint of disgust in the tone of his voice that surprised me.

  "What do you mean?"

  Tyler took a drink and set the bottle on the table. "The lead detective is Randall Ramsey. He's a newer guy that transferred from San Antonio about eight months ago. I don't really care for him to tell you the truth."

  I blinked. Tyler didn't speak poorly of people, and for him to not like someone was an oddity. Tyler liked everyone and had never met a stranger. If he didn't like this Ramsey guy, then there was a darn good reason.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "He doesn't listen, and not just to his superiors but to the victims, witnesses, anyone really. It's like he just doesn't care and cases are his punishment for something. He acts like he's being put out when he has to do actual work. How he became a detective, I'll never know."

  "That explains why Lana said the cop she talked to didn't seem to care what she was saying."

  "Sounds like Ramsey." He nodded. "Anyway, from what little he would tell me, he has one suspect, no solid evidence, and this case is going cold at the speed of light."

  "Who's his suspect?"

  "Fernando Valenzuela, one of the ladies' boyfriends."

  "Well, in that case, he's gotten as far in a month as I have in a single day," I said heatedly. "Why is he allowed to work cases if he isn't going to do his job?"

  "The captain isn't happy with Ramsey either. I overheard him talking to our lieutenant about having Ramsey transferred." Tyler finished off his pizza. "But who knows if that will actually happen. I hate to admit it, because you know how I worry about you, but I'm glad you're looking into this case. My workload is overflowing, and Ramsey isn't going to do anything strenuous to solve this one, or any other one for that matter."

  I grinned. Hearing Tyler say he was happy I was on a case filled me with a sense of pride. Tyler was a great detective, and knowing he had faith in me was just the self-esteem boost I needed.

  "Just promise me you'll be careful." He smiled at me.

  "You know it," I said and returned his smile. "Now, what do you say we end the shop talk and get down to business?"

  "You read my mind." He laughed, plopped the pizza box on the table, and pulled me against his chest. I reached behind me and covered us with the blanket I kept tossed across the back of the sofa.

  "You ready?"

  "Bring it on," I said.

  A moment later he pressed a button on the remote, and a new horror flick popped up on the screen.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next morning, Tyler and I had breakfast, something we didn't normally get to do, before he left for the station and his awaiting caseload. I fed Mickey and Blue then headed out to get started on my day.

  I'd already talked to Kiki's mom. Up next was Tammy's. Since the address for Tammy's mom wasn't far from my place, I didn't bother going in to the office. Instead I grabbed a coffee from the nearest drive-thru and keyed the address Mandy had provided me into my GPS.

  While dodging some crazy morning traffic (apparently everyone was running late today), I pressed the button on the steering wheel to call the office.

  "Jackson Investigations. This is Mandy. How may I help you?"

  "It's me," I said. "I'm on my way to talk to Tammy's mom. I'll be in after I finish up with her, and we'll go over everything. In the meantime, can you dig up some information on the ex-boyfriend Tammy had the restraining order against? Gary something. I'm sorry. I don't have a last name."

  "No problem, boss. The restraining order should be public record, so all I need to do is search Tammy's name, and we should be good to go. I'll get all the information I can and have it ready for you when you get here," she assured me. "Anything else?" she asked with her usual level of cheer.

  "Not at the moment. I'll talk to you in a little while."

  "Be careful," she said and ended the call.

  I changed lanes and took the upcoming exit.

  Almost twenty minutes later I pulled into a well-manicured neighborhood on the outskirts of Highland Park.

  The voice on the GPS told me to slow my speed and turn left. I turned onto a quiet street and peered out the windows at the well-kept houses with sparkling windows, fenced yards, and cheery demeanors. Everything was so calm and quiet. I wouldn't have been surprised if someone came out and told me I was being too loud by driving through the neighborhood.

  I creeped along the empty street until the navigation system alerted me that I'd reached my destination.

  The driveway was exceptionally smooth as I pulled in behind a white Land Rover and shut off the ignition. The house was a two-story affair with gray siding and black shutters flanking every window.

  I stepped out of the car and approached the front door. Halfway up the cobblestone path, a voice sounded from around the side of the house.

  I turned toward the sound of the voice and spotted a woman. She was small in stature with greying hair and pale skin. Her floppy bright yellow gardening hat and oversized overalls with dirty knees made me smile. She was quite the cute little lady.

  "May I help you?" she asked again in her small voice.

  I gave her a little wave. "My name is Barb Jackson. I work for Jackson Investigations. I'm looking for Samantha Mills."

  The woman stepped around the side of the house, removing her gardening gloves as she approached. "I'm Samantha," she said, unable to hide the curiosity in her voice. "What can I do for you?" She tilted her head to the side.

  "I'm here about your daughter, Tammy," I said gently. "I was asked to look into her murder."

  She looked at me for so long I thought she'd tell me to hit the road or she'd just turn around and walk away, but eventually she nodded.

  "Alright," she sighed and approached me. "Come on inside, and we'll chat."

  I followed her into the house and out to the back patio.

  "Pull up a chair, and I'll pour us some tea." She waved at one of the seats at the patio table.

  I sat down a
nd waited until she'd poured the beverages and took her seat.

  "Now, do you mind telling me what this is all about?" she asked.

  I took the glass of iced tea that she offered. "I was approached by one of Tammy's co-workers. She feels that the police aren't moving fast enough to find out who took your daughter's life. She asked me to look into the murders of Tammy and Kiki."

  She nodded. "Must have been Cindy," she said.

  "That's right."

  "Such a nice girl. Tammy didn't have a lot of friends. She was kind of a loner, you know?" She looked at me. "She and Kiki were close. They had been best friends since college. They were in the same classes and programs. Both had graduated college and were registered nurses."

  "Why didn't Tammy go to work at a hospital or clinic? Why did she keep working at the club?" I asked. I couldn't imagine anyone choosing a career in stripping over being a nurse.

  "I asked her that same question a million times. She always told me she would change careers once she'd saved enough money. I told her I'd give her money if she needed it, that it was no problem, but she wouldn't take it."

  "What about Tammy's father? Is he around?" I took a sip of tea.

  She shook her head. "He died three years ago. Heart attack. He left me a rather large life insurance policy. Enough that I don't have to work anymore. Tammy knew it, too. Which is why I couldn't understand her turning down my offer of financial help. She was just too proud, I suppose."

  I could totally relate. Aunt Mona had offered to help me get Jackson Investigations started, but I'd refused. I'd wanted to make it on my own.

  "Do you know of anyone who would have wanted to hurt Tammy?" I asked then crossed my legs.

  "Like I said before, Tammy didn't have a lot of friends, so she didn't really have anyone to make an enemy out of. It's like I told the police. The only person I know of who might have hurt Tammy was her ex-fiancé, Gary."

  "Can you tell me anything about him?"

  "Not much, really. They were only together for a few months before she called and said they were planning on getting married." Samantha sighed and shook her head. "Well naturally, I was shocked. I had never even met the man, but she assured me he was perfectly wonderful and that she would be leaving the club soon and starting work at the hospital. I was happy to hear that, of course." She nodded enthusiastically. "But that never happened. It was only a couple of weeks later that she called me and said she and Gary weren't together anymore and that he was stalking her."