Swiped in Savannah: A Made in Savannah Cozy Mystery (Made in Savannah Mystery Series Book 12) by Hope Callaghan (ereader android .TXT) 📗
- Author: Hope Callaghan
Book online «Swiped in Savannah: A Made in Savannah Cozy Mystery (Made in Savannah Mystery Series Book 12) by Hope Callaghan (ereader android .TXT) 📗». Author Hope Callaghan
“Digging through a dumpster. She’s homeless,” Elvira said.
“Are you letting her stay with you?” Carlita asked.
“Sort of.” Elvira averted her gaze. “Like I said before, Astrid - or whoever she really is - is a free spirit. She has anxiety issues and gets antsy when she’s inside confined spaces with four walls. Astrid didn’t steal the painting,” Elvira said with confidence.
“Why not?”
“Because she never stepped foot inside the museum. Her detail was handling the outdoor crowds, something she’s more familiar with.”
Carlita had another thought. “How are you paying her if you don’t know her name?”
“I think I mentioned it before. I’m paying her in cash and under the table. It’s too much trouble to try to sort through paperwork when she’s only a temp - and self-employed.”
“I see.” Carlita grew silent as she mulled over the new information. According to Elvira, Astrid was lying about her name. Maybe she had no anxiety about being inside buildings, but for whatever reason wanted Elvira to believe she had a phobia.
Why would the woman lie about who she was…unless she was hiding from something or someone?
“This makes no sense, Elvira. You’re asking for trouble,” Carlita said. “If Astrid lied about her name, she could be lying about her phobia of confined spaces.”
“True. My gut says she’s safe. I’m hardly ever wrong.”
They reached the apartment building, and Carlita pulled into an empty parking spot. She waited until the others had exited the vehicle. “This investigative thing should be a piece of cake, Elvira. Just my two cents, but I think the theft of the painting was an inside job. Someone set you up knowing your employees, or at least one of them, had a criminal record, they stole the painting, and now you and your company are on the hook.”
“It’s beginning to look that way,” Elvira said grimly. “I need to pinpoint exactly who at the museum had access to my application so I can narrow down the list of suspects. What about the pictures you took of the inside of the storage room?”
Carlita handed Elvira her phone and she silently studied the pictures. “They’re dark and grainy.”
“Because it was dark inside.”
Elvira handed the phone back. “Thanks for trying.”
“You’re welcome.”
Elvira and Dernice returned home while Carlita unlocked the back door to the apartment.
Autumn limped inside. “Do you think it was an inside job?”
“I give it a fifty/fifty chance,” Carlita said. “I’m beginning to think they should take a closer look at Astrid. It concerns me Elvira doesn’t know who she really is. She’s lying about her identity which means if she’s hanging around, we’re going to have to be more cautious until we can find out the truth…figure out her real story.”
Autumn lifted her injured ankle and hopped up the steps. “Do you really think she has a phobia of enclosed spaces?”
“I don’t know. I have a feeling one day soon we’ll know who she really is, and I’m not sure we’re going to like what we find.”
*****
Carlita helped Autumn pack a bag of ice and settle in on her sofa before returning home. She opened the front door. The overpowering fruity scent of peaches and lilacs filled the air.
“Mercedes?” Carlita followed the scent through the apartment and to the back.
The bathroom door was shut. She could hear Mercedes humming.
“Hey.” Carlita rapped on the door. It flew open, and she stumbled back. “I need to buy a bullhorn and call you from a distance.”
“Sorry, Ma. I didn’t know you were home. I heard the pounding on the door and thought someone was trying to break in.”
“Maybe because you write too many scary stories.” Carlita tugged on a strand of her daughter’s hair. “I love the ringlet curls. It softens your scowl.”
Mercedes scowled.
“See? I was gonna remind you about your date with Sam, but I see you’re already getting ready.”
Her daughter impatiently swiped at one of the curls. “It’s not a date. It’s a non-date. Besides, this was your idea. I should make you go in my place.”
“Sam doesn’t want me. He wants you.” Carlita critically eyed Mercedes’ pale lavender button-down blouse and patterned gypsy skirt. “I guess the outfit will do. Why don’t you borrow my diamond pendant necklace and matching earrings? It would look nice with your outfit.”
“That’s overkill. I’m not dressing fancy. Besides, this is the dog’s date, not mine. I’m along as a tour guide so Rambo can show Sadie his stomping grounds.”
“And have dinner,” Carlita reminded her, the grin on her face widening.
“Stop gloating,” Mercedes gritted out. “I spent all day at work trying to come up with an excuse to get out of this non-date.” She tossed her hairbrush in the makeup basket and followed her mother to the living room. “Maybe I’ll get lucky, and he won’t show up.”
“Oh, he’ll be here,” Carlita predicted. “My perfume is a nice touch. I haven’t worn that in months.”
“Not since your last date with John Alder, before he sold his place and moved away.” Mercedes’ tone softened. “Pops has been gone for a while now, Ma. Maybe it’s time for you to get out there, too.”
“Ah.” Carlita waved dismissively. “I don’t need to get out anywhere. I don’t have time for men, for dating. I’m too busy. Besides, I’m set in my ways now.”
“What about Pete?”
“Pete?” Carlita lifted a brow.
“Pirate Pete Taylor.”
“What about him?”
“He likes you,” Mercedes said.
“I like him, too.”
“No, I mean he likes you. He taught Gunner to say ‘Carlita is pretty - or maybe Gunner overheard Pete say it and is repeating what he heard.”
Carlita’s cheeks reddened. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
Before Carlita could respond, there was a light knock on the door. She sprang to her feet. “Sam’s here.”
She opened the door. “Hi,
Comments (0)