Secrets in a Still Life, Kari Ganske [best fiction books to read .TXT] 📗

I fiddled with my camera to give myself a moment of recomposure and then cleared my throat. "These two seem to have a ton of energy. Why don't you start against the far wall and walk them toward me?"

He nodded and led the dogs to the other end of the engine bay. I got a few action shots and gave him a thumbs-up. He bent down to pick up the small fluff ball. The juxtaposition of the tiny dog in his large arms had me quickly taking some more shots. The little dog, as if on cue, stuck out its tiny, pink tongue and lapped at Linc's nose. He squinched up his nose and laughed. And I knew I had my shot.

"Perfect," I said, smiling at the back of my camera.

A clack-clack-clacking of heels accompanied by a huff announced the presence of someone new. Whatever I expected Crystal to look like, it wasn't this. She was tall—like, really tall—like taller than Lincoln tall. Made even taller with her three-inch heels. She made me feel like a munchkin from Wizard of Oz.

She was also—I struggled to put it into words—not pudgy or even fat, just thick. She was the picture beside “big-boned” in the dictionary. And she wore it well. She exuded confidence with a touch of aloofness. Maybe because she literally had to look down her nose at everyone.

She didn't wear firefighter gear, instead sported a tight-fitting, cheetah-print tube dress. It clung to all her very womanly curves. Her heels were a matching print. I had seen outfits like this in the clubs of New York—heck, I'd worn outfits like this when my hips and I were in our early twenties—but this was Piney Ridge. A firehouse in Piney Ridge in the middle of the morning, to be exact. Seemed a bit out of place.

"Hi," I said, holding out my hand. "I'm Alex Lightwood, the photographer."

Crystal squeezed my fingers limply in her own, gave me a dismissive look, then focused her full attention toward Linc.

"I don't have a ton of time," Crystal said. "I have an appointment. Where do you want me to sit?"

"I actually have a more organic approach," I tried to explain.

One derisive look from Crystal had me faltering. She looked at Linc for help as if to say "Where did you dig her up?"

As if reading her mind, Linc handily brought over a chair. Crystal plopped herself in it. She held her hands out. I wasn't sure what that meant. Did she want a hug?

"The cat?" Crystal said impatiently. The frazzled humane society worker gently placed a feline in Crystal's lap. With this warm welcome, I'd be lucky to get any information pertaining to Missy out of her.

I took a page from Crystal's book and ignored her. I talked to Linc instead.

"So, you really think Mike has been acting suspiciously, Linc?" I asked as though we had been in the middle of a conversation. I gave him a pleading look from behind my camera, hoping he’d just go with it.

"Oh, uh, totally. Like I was saying"—Linc cleared his throat but played along—"Mike hasn't even called to ask about the autopsy yet. What kind of grieving husband wouldn't be banging down the police station door demanding information." I could've hugged him.

"Weird."

Through the viewfinder, I saw Crystal shift in her seat. Her fake smile—the one she put on when the camera started clicking—faltered a little.

I pressed on. "The first suspect is always the husband."

Crystal huffed. "That's ridiculous," she mumbled.

I pretended not to hear. "Good thing he's protected by being acting mayor. Otherwise, Chief Duncan would probably already have him in custody."

"Don't be stupid," Crystal huffed.

"Did you say something?" I asked, lowering the camera.

Crystal scowled at me. "Mike didn't do it. He's too soft."

"You think? I don't know. People have snapped before. I heard he cheated on Missy. Sounds like a motive to me."

"Just because he wanted a break from his demanding, annoying wife doesn't make him a murderer." Crystal scowled.

"Oh." Linc snapped his fingers like he just thought of something. "Maybe his mistress did it? Maybe she got tired of sharing."

I shot him a warning look when Crystal narrowed her eyes at him. She'd gone completely still except for her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. We were definitely getting to her. I just didn't want to press her too far.

"I happen to be close friends with Mike's mistress," Crystal said, lifting her chin in defiance. "And not only is she one of the sweetest people I've ever met, but during the afternoon of the murder, she and Mike were together at her house. Nowhere near the reservoir."

I tried not to snort at her description of her "friend" as the "sweetest person" she knew.

Crystal handed the cat back and stood up. Guess we were done with the shoot. Linc had derailed it with the mistress comment. For the record, Mr. We'll Just Have a Conversation pushed it too far. Not me.

"If you ask me," Crystal said, as she brushed cat hair off her dress, "the police should be looking closer at who Missy was cheating with."

"Wait. Missy cheated too?" I feigned surprise. I was getting good at that, in my opinion.

"Oh yeah. Big time. With someone right here in the firehouse, right, Linc?"

I felt the color drain from my face. Was Missy cheating on Mike with Linc? Was that why Linc got so upset about us snooping in his neighborhood? Because all his neighbors knew about his affair with Missy?

"What are you talking about, Crystal?" Linc asked carefully. I held my breath for the reply.

"I mean, that's why Alex has to do the photo shoot this year, right? Because Becky caught Missy and her husband together?" Crystal said.

I breathed a loud sigh of relief. Not