Grumpy Fries & Crazy Lies: Part 12

Persephone didn’t seem too thrilled about the trip to the station, even if it had cleared her of the murder. She stalked out of the building in a huff, her heels click clacking down the concrete stairs. At the car, she finally said, “I can’t believe you didn’t trust me.”

The woman was delusional. It’s like she thought an ongoing flirtation granted her diplomatic immunity.

In an even tone of voice, Sterling explained, “I had to clear you. Plus, it was nice. I didn’t cuff you or anything. I, for one, sort of had fun.”

Hell, he’d been on worse dates.

She narrowed her eyes. “Let me tell you, Sterling Spreadbury, there are no more handcuffs in our future. Ever.”

That actually depended on whether she violated the law in his presence, but he kept his mouth shut. Like a gentleman, he opened the Masserati’s passenger door for her to step in. At least there had been a possibility of furry handcuffs–at least that’s he imagined she was talking about. Maybe he could work his way back into her good graces.

“I’m sorry about this afternoon, Persephone. I’d like a chance to make it up to you. Maybe a drink before the ball tonight?”

After all, her former date was still busy processing glitter.

She laughed. “Nice try. If you really want to make it up to me, find who’s sending me threatening letters. Based on the glitter, it’s probably the same person who killed Fries.”

She had a point, especially now that he’d eliminated her as a suspect. Also, it would be a new angle to approach the case from.

“I’m all ears if you have any ideas. Why would anyone threaten you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, but I do know someone who’s obsessed with glitter.” She checked to make sure he was listening. “Have you checked Claudia Fries’ Pinterest boards?”

Like he checked anyone’s Pinterest boards.

“Why don’t you look those up while I get ready.”

With that, pretty Persephone gave him a final wave and headed up the walk to her house to bedazzle herself for the party.

“See you tonight,” he called.

“Pinterest,” he grumbled to himself. He couldn’t wait to bring that up to the judge. I need a subpoena for Claudia Fries’ home because of … Pinterest.


Luckily, Claudia Fries was only too happy to let him into her house without a subpoena. She was even happier to show off her craft room. He should have know that someone with zebra striped hair would love glitter.

Claudia settled her toddler on her hip and showed him to a small bedroom she’d outfitted for craftpocolypse. Besides a crafting desk and ribbon everywhere, the only decoration was a sign that spelled out the word “FAMILY” in ominously sparkly letters. The only obvious weapon was the paper cutter.

“I don’t see why you’re interested in glitter,” she said. With a shrug, she added, “Anything that helps you figure out my father’s murder, though.”

I didn’t explain. I’d directed all officer to hold the glitter and applesauce information back from the press.

“Mind if I look through your supplies?” I pulled on a pair of gloves picked through a Rubbermaid tub of supplies. And there it was. Bingo. The woman owned fabric glitter, for a shoe decoration project, she claimed. The project involved decorating plain canvas shoes to sell at craft fairs.

I had to admit, everything I saw was incriminating, but I still couldn’t buy Claudia as the killer. I’d never come across a murderer who made Pinterest boards for their crime. Or maybe I was just having trouble shifting my vision of a murderer to include Martha Stewart?

Like I was talking about a handgun, I asked, “Does anyone else have access to your glitter?”

She laughed, “Well, yeah. My husband, the babysitter. Anyone who comes over for my famous applesauce cookies. Merry Gooseberry and my brother are my only regular visitors, though.”

Merry Gosseberry—there was a familiar name. She had been at the crime scene nosing around. What would her motive be, though? He’d have to talk her up at the charity ball later.


“Before I leave, one more question, Ms. Fries. What’s your shoe size?”


Either Claudia Fries glitter-bombed her father at his exact time of death, or someone was trying to set her up to take the fall.

On his way home, he texted Persephone: Following up on your glitter tip. How do you get along with Merry Gooseberry? Any reason for her to send you a letter? 

Fifteen minutes later, she still hadn’t responded. Was she mad about trip to the station or had something happened?



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