Mariah Stewart - Last Words

He’d nodded, but couldn’t help adding, “I don’t think you can really tell by looking at someone if they’re a killer or not, though, Barb.”

“That’s pretty much what Nita said. She said one time-this was years ago, when she had her first antique shop, back in Virginia-she had a guy come in and buy a couple of Oriental rugs. Before she could have them delivered, she found out he’d shot his next-door neighbor right through the head because the guy’s dog kept peeing on his wife’s roses and she’d been bitching about it day and night.”

“I wonder why he didn’t just shoot his wife.”

Barbara had looked momentarily shocked, then slapped his arm playfully and said, “Oh, you!”

He watched Beck exit the shop and walk directly across the street. He waved and greeted the chief when he came through the door into Lola’s and made some idle chitchat before the waiter interrupted by bringing him his check. He was still chatting with Beck as he took several bills from his wallet and placed them on the table, then stood to leave. They exchanged a few more friendly words, then he left, waving good-bye to the owner and leaving the chief of police to his dinner.

He walked outside and stretched, glancing over at Bling. Now there was a fancy piece. He smiled to himself. The thought of playing house with the chief’s sister was unbearably tempting.

Might be prudent to wait to see how Beck handles things these next few days, see how good he is. Him and that pretty little FBI agent. Talk about a fancy piece. He shook his head, remembering how her hips had swayed as she’d walked in those high heels across Charles Street earlier in the day. Oh, yeah, that back porch had a real pretty swing, as his grandfather used to say.

Right now, though, there was the matter of that little cutie from over in Cameron to deal with.

She’d been a real firecracker, hadn’t she? he thought fondly as he poked at one of his eye teeth with a wooden toothpick he’d grabbed on the way out of Lola’s.

Well, all good things must come to an end.

He waved to a pedestrian across the street as he walked around the corner to his car, where several rolls of plastic wrap and an eight-pack of audiotapes were tucked into the trunk of his car.

He took his time, enjoying the peace of a perfect summer night.

Salsa or cheese?

Mia stood in front of the open refrigerator and debated the meager dinner choices. She hadn’t eaten since she’d picked up a muffin and a cup of coffee on her way into St. Dennis that morning. It was a little after eight and she was too tired to cook and too lazy to go for takeout, so she was stuck with what she had on hand.

She decided to go with the salsa, having snacked on cheese last night. Besides, it would go nicely with the bottle of red wine she’d opened and taken out onto the screened porch, where she’d set up a sort of temporary camp. The file she’d brought home lay open on the wicker table and the lamps had been turned on and repositioned where they’d shed the most light for reading. She poured some of the salsa into a bowl, grabbed the box of crackers from the counter, and with her foot pushed open the door that led from the kitchen to the small porch. She moved the table closer to the loveseat and sat, placing what would serve as dinner to the right of the file and surrounding herself with the extra cushions.

She filled the wineglass, then raised it in a mock toast and said, “Here’s to you, all wildlife lurking outside the fence. The pool is all yours. I’ve work to do. Tonight, however, snacks are not included.”

The setting sun left streaks of color in the low clouds that hugged the horizon, so she sipped her wine and watched until the last bits of lavender faded into the darkness.

“Time to work.”

She opened the file and began to read, then looked around for her phone before remembering she’d left it in her bag on the counter.

Mia retrieved the bag, found the phone, and set it next to her. She wiggled a bit to find a comfortable spot, then tucked a few more pillows behind her. Leave it to Connor to find a sofa with seat cushions that felt like concrete.

Well, she reminded herself, he does spend most of his time in places where-let’s face it-even this uncomfortable thing would seem like a luxury.

She smiled, remembering how shocked everyone in the family had been when her cousin actually bought a house for himself.

“So, does it have indoor plumbing?” Connor’s brother, Aidan, had asked with a perfectly straight face.

“Are you going to buy a real bed,” Mia’s brother Andrew had chimed in, “or are you going to use that grass mat you used to take camping?”

“Indoor plumbing, real furniture, a kitchen with a real stove and refrigerator.” Connor had laughed good-naturedly. “Granted, it’s tucked away by itself on a dirt road, but since I spend so much time alone, I figured a little bit of isolation will make it really seem like home.”

Well, he got that part right. It’s isolated.

Mia shifted again on the sofa, lifted her glass to take another sip, and frowned when she found it empty. She hadn’t remembered draining it, but not a drop remained. She refilled it and went back to her reading.

An hour later, she’d gone through all the interviews connected to the Colleen Preston murder. From what Mia read, it seemed that Colleen had been a really special young woman, liked and respected by everyone who knew her. That a stranger had taken her from those who loved her…

Ah, she told herself, there’s the thing. It wasn’t a stranger. She knew it in her gut.

Her rumbling stomach reminded her to eat, so she dipped into the salsa with the crackers and ate for a minute or two, focusing on what she’d just read. She drank a little more wine, then went back over the interviews to track the victim’s movements on the day she disappeared.

8:45-left home for work at women’s clothing store in shopping center near Chestertown

9:30-arrived at work

1:00-left store for lunch with friend at restaurant in shopping center (coworker interviewed-nothing out of the ordinary discussed, no mention of anyone or anything bothering her. Looking forward to upcoming weekend in Ocean City, MD, with three friends)

3:15-took break in store

5:45-rang up last sale

5:58-left store through back door

Mia put down her pen and refilled her glass. She went back through the notes made by the officers who first investigated the case, but found no description of the area behind the store. Was it a private parking lot? Who had access to it? Was someone waiting there when Colleen left work?

She blew out a long breath. In her mind’s eye, she saw the young woman leave, saw the door close behind her. Saw her starting for her car…

She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to imagine what came next. Bastard. Had he taken her there, or had he followed her, taken her someplace else? Was he an acquaintance, or someone she knew well enough to trust?

She rubbed her temples. Sometimes the job just plain hurt.

Over the course of the two hours since she’d started reading, her muscles had cramped. She stood to stretch, reaching her arms over her head and bending from side to side, almost losing her balance as she leaned to the left. She caught herself on the arm of the loveseat and righted herself. Must have been sitting longer than I thought, she told herself.

She sat on the edge of the cushion and picked her bag off the floor, opened it and began to search through the contents. When she found the small tape player, she removed it and set it on the table, then slipped in the copy of the tape Beck had given her. She poured another glass of wine, then punched play.