Love Can Be Murder

grief, she'd stopped at the card shop and written a short note to Leann's sister, and bought a sympathy card to mail to Kyle Coffee's wife later. Loss should never be overlooked, she decided, and although she doubted if anyone would attend, she'd sent a notice of Gary's memorial service to the newspaper.
    In truth, though, she was half afraid his creditors might show up.
    In the absence of customers, she began to tidy the counter.
    "Jolie," Michael said, striding up. "I need to see you in the meeting room, please."
    She glanced at her watch. "I still have twenty minutes on my shift."
    His face grew stern. "Right away."
    "Okay," she murmured, thinking this couldn't be good. Especially since Michael stalked ahead of her the entire way, forcing her to trot. But when they reached the meeting room and Carlotta was there along with Lindy, the store's general manager, she knew they either were getting big raises or were in big trouble. She suspected the latter.
    Lindy invited them to sit, which they did. But she and Michael remained standing.
    "We received a phone call today," Lindy said. "A tip that the two of you are buying clothes on your employee discount, wearing them, then returning them."
    Carlotta looked outraged. "That's ridiculous."
    "Carlotta, I must say the high volume of returns that you process for yourself is very suspicious."
    Carlotta gave a dismissive wave. "I never try anything on here in the store because I know I can bring it back if it doesn't fit."
    Lindy and Michael swung their gazes to Jolie. "Jolie?" Michael prompted.
    They weren't going to have to torture her. "There was a jumpsuit—"
    "That was my fault," Carlotta cut in. "I talked Jolie into buying the jumpsuit and a great pair of shoes, but she simply couldn't afford them, so she returned them the next day." Carlotta pointed to Michael. "You can attest to that, Michael. The shoes that Jolie returned didn't look worn, did they?"
    Michael turned to the manager. "She's right—they were in perfect shape."
    Lindy pursed her mouth and looked suspiciously back and forth between the women. "Carlotta, from now on, you'll be limited to one returned item a week, so make sure you try on clothes before you buy them."
    "I will," Carlotta said, with just the right amount of contriteness, innocence, and obedience.
    "I also read the Sunday paper," the woman said, "so I know that the two of you were questioned in connection with a murder investigation and a robbery during a party over the weekend."
    Jolie swallowed hard. Next to her, she could feel Carlotta's nervousness rolling off in waves.
    "Both of you are certainly presumed innocent until proven guilty, but I must inform you that if you are arrested, you will be placed on unpaid leave until the matter is resolved."
    Carlotta nodded and Jolie joined in.
    "That's all," Lindy said. "Ms. Goodman, please accept my condolences on your friend's...passing. If you need to arrange time off for a service, we will accommodate you, of course."
    "Thank you," Jolie said. "The memorial service is tomorrow evening, so I don't need any time off, but I appreciate the offer."
    The woman nodded curtly, dismissing them.
    They filed out silently. When they were out of earshot, Carlotta turned on Jolie and glared. "You told!"
    "Told what?"
    "About the system !"
    Jolie held up her hands and gave the bandage a scratch. "I didn't tell. It must have been an employee...or what about Hannah?"
    "Hannah would never do that to me," Carlotta said.
    "Neither would I," Jolie said. "Besides, why on earth would I incriminate myself? So I can add a shoplifting charge to my rap sheet?" She frowned. "And don't act so innocent—I know you took that money from Sammy's purse."
    Carlotta's eyes rounded. "I did not!"
    Jolie sighed. "Carlotta, I've heard you make comments about what easy pickings a party would be for a thief, and I know you saw the money in Sammy's purse when she paid for her shoes Saturday morning. And," she said more quietly, putting her hand on Carlotta's arm, "I know about the money you owe."
    Carlotta frowned. "What?"
    "The day I was taking a nap in the dressing room upstairs, I heard voices through the vent—I heard that man threaten you."
    Carlotta blanched, looked around, and pulled her aside. "You haven't told anyone about the man, have you?"
    "No."
    "The police?"
    "No."
    Her shoulders sagged in obvious relief.
    "Who is he? And why do you owe him money?"
    "I don't." Carlotta massaged her temples. "My brother owes