Chapter 9Lying Louse
I THOUGHT ABOUT FOLLOWING Cheryl out of the wine bar. I had my own book to write, after all. Plus there was the investigation, not that I had anywhere to go with that. I was pretty much stalled at the moment.
“So, you talked to the wife, huh?” Nina asked, holding up a bottle of Syrah.
Might as well. I gave her the nod, and she filled my glass with rich, red liquid. I took an appreciative sip. Berries and sunshine and maybe a hint of chocolate. Heaven.
“Yeah,” I finally answered. “Didn’t get far. Apparently she was ‘hanging out with friends’ at the time The Louse was murdered.”
Nina snorted. “Is that what she’s calling it?”
I gave her a look. “What do you mean?”
She propped her elbows on the bar revealing a vast amount of cleavage and gave me a smirk. “I believe kids these days call it ‘Netflix and chill.’”
My eyes widened. “Are you telling me that the perfect Mrs. Nixon was having an affair?” Not that I blamed her, based on what I knew of her husband. Me, I’d have just divorced his ass, but not everyone had my fortitude. Or lack of patience for nonsense.
“That’s what I heard.”
“Do you know who with?”
She shook her head, and her long, blond hair tumbled about her shoulders. The light caught her chunky gold jewelry, making it twinkle and shine. I was always a little jealous of Nina’s amazing jewelry collection. “All kinds of rumors, of course, but no one seems to actually know.”
“Well, darn. I’m not sure confronting her would work, either. She’s kind of a cool cucumber.”
“Butter wouldn’t melt,” Nina agreed.
“It does give her a darn good motive for murder. And if she was with her lover instead of the friends she claimed, well, that’s not a great alibi. They could have been in on it together.” The wheels were churning now!
“Well, if you want a motive for murder,” Nina said, perching on the stool behind the bar and casually crossing her legs, “plenty of other people had motive.”
“Sure. Portia, for one. Annabelle maybe.”
“Other people.”
“Like whom?”
“Anyone who ever met the man, I’m betting.”
A frown tugged at my lips. Enough with this beating around the bush. “Do you have someone specific in mind?” I asked.
“Barista,” Lloyd all but shouted from the end of the bar. I gave him a confused look, and he dove back into his wine glass.
Nina nodded. “He’s right. You know that girl who used to work at the Caffeinated Bean? She had a funny name. Delly. Dilly?” Nina tapped her long nails on the bar. “Delphi. That was it. Delphi something.”
An image rose in my mind of a pixie face topped by Cookie Monster hair. “I vaguely remember her. Been a while since I’ve seen her, though. What happened?”
“I don’t know exactly, but word on the street is The Louse got her fired, and she hasn’t been able to find a job since. She had to move back home with her mother, and those two fight like cats and dogs.”
“Not sure that’s a motive for murder.”
“You ever met her mother, you’d know it was,” Lloyd piped up.
DELPHI’S MOTHER LIVED out off Highway 30 back in the woods a good thirty minutes from town. My Camry bounced and jolted over potholes and ruts as I eased my way up the gravel road. My poor car was definitely not made for this.
At the end of the road sat a mobile home in a ghastly shade of green. How to describe it? Moldy olive, perhaps?
The front door, originally white, was spattered with mud and cracked in places. The front porch sagged as if exhausted by life in general. The siding had seen better days, pieces pulling away here and there, revealing signs of dry rot. How did fake wood rot? Of course, in the Pacific Northwest, rotting was a given, as was rust and moss.
I picked my way across the soaked lawn and winced as the steps creaked ominously beneath me. Loud and exuberant barking echoed from inside followed by a voice screaming, “Shut up, Deeks. Shut up.” There were a few colorful expletives sprinkled through the shouting and barking as I rapped on the door. It flung open to reveal a young woman at least half a foot shorter than I with bright-blue hair and a heart-shaped face. Behind her, a Husky bounced up and down like he had springs on his paws, barking his head off. “Deeks, I swear. Shut. Up.” Deeks ignored her.
With a heavy sigh, she turned toward me. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty. A silver ring gleamed from her left nostril. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, hi. My name is Viola Roberts, and I’m assisting in the Nixon murder investigation.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly. I was assisting. The police just didn’t know I was assisting.
The girl gave me a blank look. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“You’re Delphi, right?”
She nodded.
“You’re the one that used to work at Caffeinated Bean, right?”
“Yeah. So?” She crossed her arms, causing the vee of her black shirt to dip slightly, and I caught a glimpse of multicolored hearts covering her bra. Cute, if you were into that “unicorns farting rainbows” sort of thing. Give me a plain black bra any day. “August Nixon is the man who got you fired.”
She scowled. “Oh, that jerk. Yeah, I remember him. What happened? Somebody off him?” She didn’t seem upset by the thought. Of course, that was par for the course, it seemed.
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
She sniffed. “Good riddance. Man was a menace.”
“Er, yes. They called him The Louse.”
That got a smirk out of her. “Fits.”
“May I ask what happened?”
She shrugged. “He used to come in every morning on my shift. He’d harass me, harass the other girls. A
