Page 9 of Murder By the Millions
I eyed Iggie and Finette again. They’d joined the line of people ready to order.
Iggie was fiddling with the cuff link on his right sleeve and bumping into customers without apology. “We don’t need another developer in town,” he said, loudly enough for the entire place to hear. “If anybody is going to design the future of Bramblewood, it should be me.”
“You,” Finette said, disdain dripping off her tongue.
“All my properties are premier. As you well know, the community surrounding the golf course is top notch and in demand.” He’d upgraded the area about three years ago. The houses were expensive. The club memberships were costly, as well. “What do you know about this—Dang it. Help me with my cuff link.” He held out his arm to her.
She slipped her cell phone into her tote and did as asked; then she pushed his arm away. “You’re welcome.”
“What do you know about this guy named Jason Gardner?”
“I know he’s smart. Talented. Wealthy—”
“Admit it, you know next to nothing,” Iggie interrupted. “He’s got money. Big deal.”
“He’s originally from Bramblewood but relocated to California when he was ten.”
Why hadn’t Jason mentioned his roots at the bookshop? Vanna hadn’t seemed to recognize him or his name, but then she was a number of years younger.
“Do you have an appointment with him?” Iggie asked. “Is that why you’re all dolled up?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Finette hissed. “I always dress for success.”
When Iggie reached the head of the line, he ordered a black coffee. “What do you want to drink, Finette?”
“A caramel macchiato with two pumps of vanilla syrup.” He pulled his cell phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, flicked a finger across the screen, and displayed the phone to the barista. She rang up the purchase. I noticed he didn’t leave a cash tip. Conceivably, he’d added one via the app. “Give me a reason why you passed on my bid,” he said to Finette as he shuffled to the spot where completed drinks were placed. “You used to be my best cheerleader.”
“Once upon a time you were brilliant, with cutting-edge ideas and a vision for Bramblewood. Now? You’re stale. A hack.”
“Take it back.”
Finette shook her head.
“Is Gardner paying you?” Iggie demanded.
“Paying me?”
“Yeah. With jewelry? I’ve got eyes. I see you’ve got a new infinity necklace and ankle bracelet. I happen to know you’re stretched for funds, having to take care of your great-aunt. So, fess up. Is he bribing you? Otherwise, how you can afford the bling?”
“You … you … I’ll have you know I’ve purchased everything I own myself. I’ve had this necklace and these”—she aimed a finger at her ankle bracelet and the bangles on her arm—“for years! I wear the infinity symbol because it fills me with confidence and radiates a sense of sophisticated style. It bestows upon its wearer a reminder of her potential and of the impactful relationships that shape her life.”
“Bullpucky. Sheer, utter rot! Why, I should press the town council to dismiss you.”
“Don’t take a tone with me, Ignatius.”
“Are you sleeping with Gardner?”
“Enough! Scrap the coffee. May you burn in hell, you … you … snake.” She turned on her heel and stomped out of Ragamuffin.
Reika exited the restroom at the same time, eyes wide. She’d heard what everyone else had. “Oh, that man!” She stomped past me to Iggie. “You imbecile.”
“Huh?” He looked dumbfounded.
“You’re mad because the town council didn’t grant you the rights to the properties and now you’re taking it out on Finette. Not fair. You’re slime. A boor. I don’t know what your problem is, but I’ll bet it’s hard to pronounce.”
Holy heck. For someone who, minutes ago, had referred to Finette as the devil incarnate, Reika was certainly going to bat for her. On the other hand, who better than her to do so? She was a vocal women’s rights advocate who’d led numerous marches for a variety of causes.
“At least Mr. Gardner promises his mall will replicate the historic look of the town,” she went on. “Unlike whatever you might construct.”
