Lola took a bite of her burger. She chewed and swallowed. "Now that you've bribed me with lunch, exactly what sketchy thing are we up to during this lunch break, and why have you involved your best friend in your clandestine activities?" She went in for another bite.
"Well, on a crazy whim this morning, I decided to ride my bike to work. Then, as lunchtime grew near, I got the sudden urge to go back to the scene of Lionel's murder. It happens to be in Chesterton, which is too far to travel on two wheels during a lunch break. Therefore, I needed my best friend to drive me."
She lifted her soda out of the console and took a long draw on the straw. "So you're using me for my car. Anyone could be your best friend today as long as they had a car."
I wiggled my bottom on the passenger seat and sat up straighter. "If you're going to put it in such general terms, then I suppose so. Only, you're the best friend I knew would be happy to drive me as long as there was a cheeseburger included."
She leaned her head side to side. "Good point." She wrapped up the last few bites of burger. "Can't eat another bite. I had two of Elsie's chocolate scones this morning. Feeling a little glutinous." She wiped off her hands and turned the key. "Direct me where to go. I'm now at your service."
"Great. Just go down this road and turn right at the end of it. We're heading to that neighborhood overlooking the bay, the one with all the mansions. That was where Lionel was living when he was shot." I used air quotes for the word living, which rightly confused my driver.
"Why the air quotes? Was he a vampire or a member of the walking dead?"
"No, I might have used those quotes wrong. He was living, of course, but he never actually purchased the house. It's never been on the market. He must have discovered that it'd been vacant for years and just moved himself in."
A short laugh burst from Lola's mouth. "So, Kate's supposedly rich boyfriend was squatting in a mansion. He drove a nice Porsche though."
"Leased, apparently. It seemed he did have some money but not enough to purchase a big home in Chesterton. There seems to be a great deal of mystery surrounding the victim."
"Pull up right here to this sad looking place in the middle of all these splendid homes."
Lola parked the car and we climbed out. "Boy, this place sure stands out like an ugly brown grape in a bright red cluster. I'll bet the neighbors close their eyes when they're driving past it." She followed me across the dead front lawn to the path leading around to the back of the home. "I guess we're not important enough to be invited in the front door."
"I assume the front door is locked, but with any luck, the back door will still be unlocked. Someone, probably Lionel, himself, broke into the house through the back door. They turned the door jamb into splinters."
"Someone? Maybe it was the cold blooded killer?" She grabbed my arm. "Are you sure this is safe? I thought killers always returned to the scene of their crime."
"Only really stupid ones." The back patio was just a puzzle of chunks of cement with weeds popping out of every crack. We stepped over some particularly tall ones and reached the back door. It was slightly ajar.
"Guess we're in luck," Lola said. "It appears to be open."
"I would have expected the police to shut it so that it at least looked like it was locked." I shrugged at their carelessness and opened the door.
"What are we looking for?" Lola whispered.
"Not too sure," I whispered back.
"Why are we whispering?" Lola asked.
"I don't know," I whispered back. "You started it and I just followed along."
Lola laughed. A noise followed that didn't come from either of us. It had come from the room with the sofa. I turned to Lola and pressed a finger to my lips to let her know we needed to be quiet. Although, I was sure she figured that out.
"What if it's the killer, the really stupid killer?" Lola hissed in a quiet but worried whisper.
I put up my hand for her to stop walking, then I crept as silently as possible on creaky floors toward the sitting room. I reached the doorway and peeked inside. Margaret Sherwood stared back at me, frozen to the spot, and white with fear. Her eyes looked close to popping from her face. "Who are you?" she asked in a wavering voice. It seemed we had scared her as much as she had frightened us.
"I'm Lacey. I occasionally assist the police with investigations." I didn't have the time or the wherewithal to come up with an alternative explanation for me to be sneaking around a murder scene, so I went with the truth.
Margaret looked close to fainting. I led her to the sofa. Lola came down the hallway to see what was going on and who I was having a conversation with.
"Margaret?" Lola asked. "Didn't expect to see you here." Margaret shook her head sadly. I was glad to see the color coming back to her face.
"I came here to look for something, something I lost."
"Was it a necklace?" I asked.
Margaret looked as if someone had slapped her. "Why, yes. How did you know?"
"Lacey was in my shop when Lionel came in to buy it for you," Lola said. "What happened to it?"
Margaret rested back to catch her breath. "It was silly of me. But I was angry with Lionel. I actually thought he liked me." Her cheeks reddened. "What a silly old woman I am. I should have known a man like Lionel would never have fallen for me."
I sat next to Margaret. "Nonsense. Besides, you were way too good for the likes of him. Why were you angry at him?"
She sniffled but neither Lola nor I were equipped with a tissue. "He was seeing another woman," she said. "I went out to my mailbox Tuesday morning and found a picture tucked in between the envelopes. It was a picture of Lionel in an embrace with the woman who owns Mod Frock." She sniffled some more.
"There has to be at least some tissue or toilet paper in this house," Lola said. "I'll be right back."
"Don't touch anything else," I called to her. "This is still a crime scene."
She popped her head back in with an annoyed eyebrow arch. "Really? What am I going to touch? The bloodstain on the floor or the crusty dirt that seems to be on every surface of this house?"
"Just go get the tissue." I waved her along and turned back to Margaret. I was hot on the trail of something. I just wasn't sure what. I had definitely uncovered a pattern. "Margaret, do you have the picture? I'd like to see it."
Her shoulders rounded. She looked droopy and sad. "It was too painful to look at. I tore it up and threw it away."
"Is it still in your trash?" I asked, hopefully.
"No, yesterday was trash morning. The picture is long gone. Now the necklace is gone too. I really loved it. I got angry, tore it off and threw it at Lionel before I stomped out of the house. I regretted it instantly."
"Your necklace is safe," I said. "It's in evidence right now, but I'm sure, eventually, you'll be able to claim it."
"Evidence?" She covered her face. Lola returned just in time with a few squares of paper towel. Margaret blotted her face. "That must be why the police want to talk to me. They think I had something to do with Lionel's death. He broke my heart, but I would never kill him or anyone, for that matter." She pressed the paper towel to her mouth and stifled a sob. "Now I've left evidence at the scene of the crime. What a silly old woman I am, and how quickly I fell for his smile and compliments. Never again. I will be alone until the day I die." She sobbed. "I just hope that day won't be when I'm in jail."
I put my arm around her. "It won't be. You have nothing to worry about. Just tell them everything you know. Tell them about the photo even if you don't have it anymore." I helped her to her feet, and we headed to the back door. I paused and looked at her.
"How did you get in?" I asked, casually, so as not to sound accusatory.
She seemed flustered by my question. "How did I get in?" she repeated back my question. The oldest trick in the book for stalling. I knew because I'd used it myself more times than I wanted to admit.
"I—uh—I wandered around to the back and saw that the door was open. I know I shouldn't have been snooping around in the backyard, but I knew the back door was broken. I had noticed it when Lionel first invited me to have coffee. I shouldn't have just walked inside, but I really wanted to find that necklace."
"Like I said, I'm sure you'll be able to get the necklace back once the police have solved the case and determined the necklace had nothing to do with the murder."
She nervously crumpled the paper towel between her hands. "I hope they find the killer soon. This is all so upsetting. I haven't been sleeping at all."
"You might want to mention that to your doctor," I suggested. Lola and I led her over the crumpled patio and through the back gate. "Would you like us to see you up to your door?" I asked.
"No, I'll be fine. Thank you."
Lola and I watched her walk to the brick pathway leading up to her house.
"She did it," Lola muttered quietly.
I looked over at her. "Why do you say that?"
Lola zipped up her sweatshirt. We headed back to the car. We'd used up our lunch break talking to Margaret, and both of us needed to get back to our shops.
"She had motive. Jealousy. It seems as if Lionel really broke her heart. She knew about the broken back door. Or maybe she even caused it." Lola unlocked her car and we climbed inside.
"I'm beginning to think Lionel broke that door when he decided to live in the house. Besides, sometimes it takes a little more evidence than a good motive to prove that you have the suspect," I said. "But that's all right. I can't expect you to know stuff like we professionals." I added in a haughty chin lift.
"You're good at solving murders, I'll give you that. But if you're a professional, then why doesn't Briggs give you a badge?"
I tapped my chin. "Hmm, good question. I think I'll ask him if they have some sort of honorary badge. You know like an honorary degree they give famous people at big name colleges. I'd kind of like to have one just to flash around."
Lola laughed. "I was just kidding, of course. But if you bring it up with James, then please don't tell him that I put the notion in your kooky head."