I met Iz at our favorite sweet shop. Pure Bliss created handmade desserts from fresh, local, organic ingredients—the menu included a vegan carrot cake my friend declared the best thing she’d eaten since she gave up meat and dairy. Though I respected her decision, I would never join her, given my deep, abiding love of bacon and cream. On the dessert front, I developed a new favorite every other week.
Stepping inside, I was instantly surrounded by the heady smells of butter, sugar, and chocolate. Iz had arrived ahead of me and was curled up on the bright pink sofa near the entrance. I always envied her ability to take up such a small space. I take up a huge amount of space, vertical and horizontal. Iz, on the other hand, even with solid muscle packed on her diminutive frame, could pull her legs up beneath her and look like she was half her actual size.
“Don’t say a word about the haircut,” I said by way of greeting.
“Girl! I’ve been trying to get you to do that for two years. Don’t tell me you don’t love it. Did your momma talk you into that?”
“Wielded the scissors herself.”
“She’s a good woman. That’s all I’m gonna say.”
“If you two are going to gang up on me, I’m definitely not going to introduce you.”
“Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”
“I know, I’m sorry. Life is having that effect on me. Let me get a coffee. I’ll be right back.”
Standing in line for a latte, I could see myself reflected in the glass case showcasing today’s selected delights. I turned back and forth, trying to get a glimpse of myself from all sides. Running my fingers through my hair, I watched it miraculously spring back into place. I had to admit, it was pretty chic. Turning my head, I caught Iz watching me and stuck my tongue out at her. She laughed and went back to chatting with the cute new busboy we’d decided was half our age and only good for long-distance appreciation and harmless flirtation.
“Okay, so what do you know about Miss Fox?” I asked as I plunked down my double latte and balanced my current favorite ambrosia—Chocolate Salted Carmel Cake—on my knee and settled onto the matching bright pink loveseat. I’d already looked around to make sure no one else sat close enough to overhear our conversation.
“You know I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation.”
“True, but I can tell you what I already know and you can keep quiet if I’m correct.”
Iz shrugged, her mouth full of carrot cake.
“Deirdre Fox was murdered sometime between ten and midnight on Wednesday by a person or persons as yet unknown.”
Iz sipped her coffee, which I took to be an affirmative.
I mentioned the address listed in the newspaper as the site where her body was found, stuffed into a crawlspace.
“Do you want a bite of this?” she asked, holding out a forkful of carrot cake. I tempted her with a bite of mine, but she held out against the dairy-filled frosting and chocolate ganache.
“What do you think of the new detective?” I innocently slipped the question into the conversation about Deirdre.
“Seems like a decent guy,” she said before looking up from her cake. Something must have showed on my face, because she narrowed her eyes. “What’s that got to do with the price of tea in China?”
I sipped my latte, giving her my guileless look. I didn’t want to get into my past with Chance. I tried to channel Kendra by batting my lashes, but I don’t think I pulled it off very well.
“Have you got something in your eye?” Iz asked.
“Not anymore,” I said, dropping my attempt to look innocent.
“I heard a rumor you two knew each other down in Seattle.”
“Apparently not that well. I didn’t even know he was moving up here,” I said without thinking about it.
“That why you’re in such a surly mood?”
Crap. I don’t usually let stuff like that slip, but I had been thrown off my game by the recent assault on my hair.
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Iz eyed me with suspicion.
“Can’t,” I said.
“From that comment I can only assume that not only is the rumor true, but what happened between you guys was a lot more serious than Detective Parker let on.” I could hear sympathy in Iz’s voice.
“Do you know why he left Seattle?”
Iz shook her head. “We’ve only met briefly. He’s pretty tied up with the homicide.”
I sat for a moment running all the reasons Chance might have moved here through my head. Had he met someone else? And she lived up here? Or could it have something to do with me? That would be a stretch. We hadn’t seen each other for a long time.
But hope springs eternal, no matter how farfetched.
Iz finally broke the silence and let me off the hook. “Information appears to be a little sketchy about Miss Fox.”
“Like that isn’t her real name?” I was only guessing, but it made sense considering how little I found about her on the Internet.
“Something tells me you’ve done a little research on the woman.”
I nodded. “Her paper trail is a little thin.” My next thought was that she hadn’t been ID’d in the paper because the police didn’t know her real identity yet. I pondered the possibility of remaining invisible to law enforcement in the technology age. Ms. Fox must have never gotten in trouble before, or worked for the government or in childcare or for the military or any of the myriad of other situations that led to being fingerprinted today.
“Her prints don’t show up in any databases,” I said. That wouldn’t be a big leap in logic.
“You should know the cute busboy has been checking out your new haircut,” Iz said to distract me.
“Really?” I turned around to look for him.
“What do you think?” Iz said, catching his attention. “Doesn’t this hairstyle look great on Eddie?”
“It does,” he said, picking up a few glasses at a recently vacated table. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
What did that say about my usual look?
“I still think I look like a hedgehog,” I said to Iz as I watched him walk away.
“Maybe. But hedgehogs are awful cute.”
She had me there.
“All right. I should get back to work,” Iz said, standing up. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
I didn’t ask if she meant about Deirdre’s death or Chance’s appearance in Bellingham. At this point, I’d be happy to know more about either.