Page 26 of A Jingle of Justice
She waited until the sale was complete before approaching the counter. “I’ve brought you the list of customers who bought cookies over the past week.”
I scanned it. All were names of my steady customers, none of whom would harm a flea. I thanked her, and she left while inserting EarPods into her ears. Realizing I’d meant to ask her about her sister who was now working at Aroma Wellness Spa, I raced after her. She was climbing the stairs toward Dolores Street, her head bobbing right and left in rhythm to the music she was listening to. I called out her name, but she didn’t turn around.
I decided I’d reach out tomorrow and began to pivot, but I paused when I saw Idris locking up Sweet Treats and the wordkeysprang to mind. Brady had asked me who could have stolen into Open Your Imagination without a key. I recalled Shara saying she’d found keys when scouring the sand for collectibles at the beach. Was it possible she’d landed upon a set for Cypress and Ivy Courtyard?
I eyed my watch. Nearly six. I called out to Joss saying I’d be right back, and then I dashed up the steps to the landlord’s office, which was located beyond Time Tinker.
Logan Langford was exiting, his back to me, a key inserted into the lock. He must have sensed me, because he turned and smiled. “Courtney, hello.”
Along with his new bicycling regimen, he’d changed his appearance. His thinning hair was no longer salt-and-pepper. He’d dyed it a soft brown. He’d even stopped wearing his daily go-to outfit of black T-shirts and black jeans, and was now dressed in a floral shirt and chinos. A regular guy on vacation.
“Hi,” I said. “Quick question. Are you missing any keys?”
He squinted. “Gee, I don’t think so.” He counted the keys on his loop. “I’ve got all twenty.” He owned a few other properties but preferred having his office in this courtyard.
“Do you store keys to our units in your office?”
“Duplicates? Yeah, sure.” His mouth turned down into a frown. “Aw, heck. I meant to reach out after the tragedy. I’m so sorry you had to . . .” He twirled a hand, not uttering that I’d encountered yet another dead body. “The police have questioned me.”
“About?”
“CCTV, which, like the rest of Carmel, we haven’t installed.” He sighed. “We used to think of our fair community as the safest in the world. Not so, any longer. You knew the victim?”
“We met briefly. Have you had a break-in?”
“Not that I know of.”
I glanced at Time Tinker as a notion surfaced. Could Horace have stolen into Logan’s office, borrowed a key, slipped into Open Your Imagination, dug the hole, killed Tianna, and returned the key without Logan knowing? If he could have, someone else could have, too. But who?
I thanked him and started to leave.
“Hold on.” He scratched his chin. “Come to think of it, I do recall the door was ajar when I returned from Sweet Treats the other day.”
“To purchase gingerbread cookies?”
“No. I was craving a donut. I checked out everything, though, and nothing was missing. Why do you ask?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Of course. The duplicates. You’re wondering if the killer took one. Nah, I’m pretty sure they’re all accounted for.”
Again I thanked him and headed to the shop while forming a picture in my mind of the killer. He or she was a planner. The culprit could’ve sneaked into Logan’s office, somehow made a copy of the duplicate key, and skipped out unseen.
I said hello to Joss as I entered Open Your Imagination. She was returning from the office, having stored the day’s receipts in the safe.
“Off to see my mother,” she announced. “Need anything else before I go?”
I wagged my head. “Tell her hello.”
“Like she’ll remember.” She offered a sad grin.
As I was collecting Pixie, Brady called and asked me to dinner at the café. He was taking the night off, but he didn’t want the new weekend manager at the restaurant entirely on her own.
“Yes. I’d love it. But I need to run home first and change.”
I was exhausted from work as well as from following all the clues. He said he’d be waiting for me with bated breath. Pixie wasn’t pleased I was going out, but she settled down after I fed her a salmon dinner—her favorite. I dressed in a pair of dark blue slacks and soft white sweater, brushed my hair, and donned lip gloss. I added a dash of sparkly blush for pizzazz.
Fiona winged in and inspected my face. “Glitter,” she said. “Like Tianna.”
Rattled, I wiped off the blush with a tissue, reassessed myself in the mirror, and headed out. Fiona accompanied me.
“Did you have a good time with your aunt?” I asked.
