Page 13 of Christmas Fudge Fatality
She couldn’t be a killer, could she?
Come to think of it, I know Scott, too.
She shrugs before pulling her fruity looking cocktail to her lips. “Stacy and Scott were hammering away at her, yelling as if they were right back at the ranch. Scott has always had it in for her.”
Everett leans in. “Stacy was yelling at her, too?”
“Oh yeah.” Bonnie dabs her lips with a napkin and slightly smears her lipstick, and it gives her a crazed look that no woman is after. “It’s a common occurrence at the ranch. I do the books, so I’m in the office and hear the whole thing. They like to let loose on one another about three or four times a week. It didn’t help that Tamara and Scott were still in and out of the house. It was truly a toxic working environment. I hate to say it, but a part of me is relieved it’s over.”
Everett swills the beer in his hand. “I bet that’s why you needed someplace like this to turn to. I find playing a hand of blackjack relaxing myself.”
She barks out a laugh. “You betcha. I knew I liked you.” She snuggles up beside him, and I’m tempted to knock her drink over.
“So what do you usually play?” I ask, trying to steer the direction back to the topic at hand—her.
“Slots mostly. But I like blackjack, too.” She giggles over at Everett and my tolerance for this interrogation is quickly waning. “You know, I’m pretty good at it, too. Last year I won enough to take a trip to Atlantic City. Oh, they’ve got miles and miles of glorious slots machines in every shape and size.” Her eyes grow swirly as if she were hypnotized. She turns my way. “And if you really want to play craps, you should come with me on my next trip. They’ve got tables to die for.”
Noel howls over at her, “Ask if Tamara ever went with her.”
“Good question,” I say, inspiring a confused look from Bonnie. “I mean, Ihavea question. Did Tamara ever join you?”
Her eyes grow wide again. “No. Let’s just say she didn’t exactly approve of my—hobby. Some people can be such prudes.” She makes a face before draining the rest of her drink and motioning for the bartender to deliver another.
Everett leans in close to her, shoulder to shoulder, as if he were flirting himself, and I’ll admit that a part of me is a bit jealous that she’s getting all that glorious Baxter body heat to herself.
“Just as a theory”—he starts—“let’s say Scott didn’t send Tamara to her death. Who do you think could have done it?”
Bonnie swallows audibly, prompting both Everett and me to exchange a glance.
Noel hobbles my way. “She’s acting strangely, Lottie. I’m afraid Stacy might be right. Bonnie Dupre is guilty as sin.”
I twist my lips over at him. We shall see.
The bartender slides another fruity concoction her way and she pulls it in. “Yes, Scott had a reason to push her off that embankment. I can see why he’d want all of his problems solved, but to be honest, he’s a smart man. He would have known it would have brought far more legal troubles than the trouble he was already in. That’s why I don’t think he did it.”
I suck in a quick breath. “But don’t you think he was worked up in a rage?”
“Not really. He was just blowing off steam. Trust me when I say he’s learned to rein it in before it gets out of hand.” She looks my way. “You do realize Scott wasn’t the only one who was angry with Tamara that night.”
“You mean Stacy.” I nod as if affirming this. Although it was really the other way around. It was Tamara who was fuming at Stacy. Personally, I’m surprised it wasn’t Stacy at the bottom of that cliff.
Bonnie shakes her head. “I mean Joyce.”
“Joyce was angry with Tamara?” I inch back, uncertain if I heard right. “Tamara’s personal trainer? The perky brunette? She seemed ready to defend her, not kill her.”
Bonnie rolls her eyes. “Let’s just say they have a thorny history together. A few years back they opened up the first of a few boutique type gyms that cater to women. Maybe you’ve heard of them? Swerve the Curve?”
“Oh, I think I have heard of them,” I say. “They have one out in Fallbrook, right?”
She nods. “And two in Hollyhock. Anyway, it was always Joyce’s dream, and Tamara came in as the financial brawn. But things went south just last week. Apparently, Tamara made Joyce a lowball offer to buy her out, and when Joyce refused, Tamara hired some fancy lawyer to make it happen. Joyce was fuming. In fact, the night of the murder, I had to ask her to put off the confrontation she was determined to have with her until after the holidays.” Her lips twitch as if there’s more to the story but she isn’t about to share it. “Joyce is power-hungry—a control freak. You just have to be around her for five minutes to know that. And she’ll do anything to protect that power.”
Power-hungry. The words swill in my mind long after she says them.
Everett and I wrap it up with Bonnie. I even invite her to my mother’s speed dating event at the B&B next weekend, and she agrees to give it a shot. Everett and I watch as Bonnie takes off, more than eager to say goodbye to us as she hits the slots.
Noel follows Everett and me outside of the establishment where the snow is still softly sifting its way to earth, and I take up Everett’s hand in the event Noel decides to share his thoughts again.
“Well, Lottie?” Noel prances between Everett and me. “We’ve got a killer, haven’t we? It’s this Joyce person! I say we find her and tie her to a tree so the wolves can ravage her.”