Page 19 of Little Dark Deeds (Georgiana Germaine #12)

Q ueenie reached inside her bag, pulling out a pair of binoculars and holding them up with pride.

“Now, before you say anything, I’m well aware that we’ve been a bit nosy, involving ourselves in Tiffany’s private moments here and there,” she said.

“We were just looking out for her interests, you see. Forgive me for speaking ill of the dead, but she struck me as the kind of person who needed a little looking after.”

“I’m not here to judge you.”

“It’s not just Tiffany,” Janice said. “People around the neighborhood call us the Granny Guard. Not much gets past us ... well, except Tiffany’s murder, of course. We’ve been beside ourselves because we weren’t around when it happened.”

“We were at the market that day,” Queenie said. “Terrible timing. Seems ballsy to murder someone in the middle of the day.”

Tiffany’s backyard opened to a wooded area, lush with trees, the perfect way to sneak in and out of her place without being seen, which explained why the killer may have been so brazen.

“Did any of you see anything suspicious around the time of Tiffany’s murder, or in the weeks or months before it?” I asked.

“One strange thing, yes,” Queenie said. “One night I saw a man one snapping pictures of Tiffany and her beau through her living room window.”

“How long ago?”

“Been at least a couple of months now, maybe even longer. I tried to speak to him, but when he saw me coming his way, he took off.”

“Did you get a good look at him?”

“It was dark out, and he had a ballcap on. Kept his head down when he zoomed past me in a black truck. Sorry to say I couldn’t make out the license plate. My eyes these days ... I’m afraid I don’t see so well anymore.”

I turned my thoughts back to the other mystery man. I wondered who he was and if he could be involved in Tiffany’s murder. She didn’t always mention the new men in her life to me right away. Still, it bugged me that I didn’t know about him.

“The other man,” I said, “the one Tiffany dated before Tyler ... what did he look like?”

“He was a real looker,” Queenie said.

“Oh, yes,” Janice added. “Handsome, like a young Orson Welles, and just as tall. Broad shoulders, dark, wavy hair.”

“We were excited about him,” Queenie said.

“Why?”

“He had kind eyes, and the way he looked at her ... it was so sweet.”

Tall, handsome, broad shoulders, and dark, wavy hair.

Orson Welles adjacent.

I knew one man who fit that description—Furniture Salesman Chad.

If I was right, and they’d started dating again, I knew why she hadn’t told me. I didn’t approve of him the first time they’d dated. He was nice enough, but he had no plans for his future, no ambition. He liked being a furniture salesman and had no desire to make anything more of himself.

Once, when the three of us were sitting around Tiffany’s table playing cards, he told me he worked to live, unlike most Americans who, according to him, lived to work.

At the time, I couldn’t relate to his way of thinking.

I, myself, was always looking to the future, to the next challenge in life, opportunities to push myself that I hadn’t tried yet. So, when she asked me what I thought of Chad, I told her.

Thinking back on it now, I realized I’d been seeing him from my perspective, holding him to my standards, not hers.

She didn’t care about his lack of ambition.

She had enough of it for them both. If I had to do it all over again, I would have been more supportive, focusing on what she wanted than what I wanted for her.

“If I may be candid,” Martha said. “I always thought there was something shady about Tyler, even though Tiffany gushed about him.”

“She wasn’t always the smartest cookie when it came to choosing suitors,” Queenie added. “Are the rumors true? Is Tyler a married man?”

“The rumors are true.”

“What a pity.”

“Did you ever see him arguing or behaving in a negative way toward her?”

In unison, they shook their heads.

“While he gave off an unsavory vibe, they did seem happy when they were together, always smiling and laughing,” Queenie said. “But if he was hiding a wife, I call everything about him into question. Do you think he murdered her?”

“I don’t know.”

“I expect you’ve spoken to him by now, hmmm?”

“I talked to him this morning.”

Queenie moved a hand to her hip. “Well, what did you think?”

“It’s too early to tell.”

“You look like someone who cares a great deal about first impressions. You must have some inclination about the man.”

Most of the time when I was questioned in the way I was now, I looked for ways to dodge them. But these women were watchers. They saw things, heard things, kept their ears to the ground, and I suspected, in everyone else’s business. Having them as allies made sense.

Perhaps I had more to learn from them than they had to learn from me.

With that in mind, I decided I’d share more than usual.

“This morning, I spoke to Jordan, a man Tyler works with, and then to Tyler himself. I also visited Tyler’s wife, Jana. As I’ve thought about those conversations, I get the feeling Tyler and Jana got together after Tiffany’s death to decide what they were going to say to the police.”

“Why would they do that if they were innocent?” Queenie asked.

“To create a narrative, a story they’d tell me and the police, a narrative I question.”

“If they’re innocent, I see no reason why they’d do such a thing.”

“Tyler and Jana are smart enough to know they’d both be suspects. Even if they’re innocent, I can see them wanting to protect each other.”

Queenie tapped her foot to the ground. “This Jana ... what does she look like?”

“Slender, early thirties, long, dark hair, hipster vibe.”

“And what does she drive?”

“There was a blue sedan parked in the driveway when I arrived at her house. I assumed it was hers.”

As soon as I’d delivered the information, all three women huddled up like they were deliberating a play on a football field. I leaned in, trying to hear what they were saying but only made out bits and pieces. No sooner had they gathered, they broke from the huddle, turning toward me.

“We believe we’ve seen her,” Queenie said.

“We sure do,” Martha added.

“When ... and where?” I asked.

“Parked across the street from Tiffany’s house, not two weeks ago. She was in a bright blue sedan. Stood out like spring in the dead of winter.”

“What was she doing there, do you know?”

“Similar to what the other man was doing. She was crouched down in the driver’s seat, watching Tyler and Tiffany through the living room window.”

“She watched them for forty-seven minutes,” Janice said.

“Did she ever get out of the car, or approach Tiffany’s house, or anything else?”

“She stayed in the car the entire time,” Martha said.

“That’s when we first thought Tyler was double-dipping,” Queenie said.

“Oh, yes,” Janice added. “Double-dipping, to be sure.”

“Double-dipping?” I asked.

“Seeing two women at the same time,” Janice said. “What we didn’t know was if she was another girl he was dating, or if she was his wife.”

“We discussed it amongst ourselves and decided I would approach her and find out,” Queenie said. “I walked to the car and tapped on the window. The woman refused to put the window down. I asked if she knew Tiffany and why she was parked across from her house.”

“How did she react?”

“Not well, I’m afraid. Without a single word, she started the car and took off down the road.”

“Did you ever see her again?”

“We haven’t, no.”

“What about security cameras?” I asked. “I assume many of the residents on this street have them.”

“Some do,” Queenie said. “We don’t.”

“Why not?”

“We prefer our binoculars.”

Old school. I wasn’t surprised.

“Is there anything else I should know?” I asked.

They looked at one another and shook their heads. “Not that we can think of right now.”

I reached into my bag, pulling out a few business cards and handing them out. “Here’s my contact information. If you can think of anything else, or if you see or hear anything suspicious, give me a call.”