Killer Love (35 page)

The smell of coffee wafted to me, and I looked at the table sitting a few feet away. A large Bunn coffee maker had been placed at one end and next to that was a tray of pastries. I eyed the cinnamon rolls, and my mouth watered, my stomach rumbled. Cinnamon rolls were one of my weaknesses, and these looked like the good kind with thin icing and lots of cinnamon. I was starving.

If I hadn’t been late to the meeting and didn’t feel so much like an ostracized interloper, I might have helped myself to a cup of coffee and one of those enticing cinnamon rolls.

But I
was
late. All because the ‘forensic team’ Hutch had sent, which consisted of Deputy Trevor Denkins and Hutch’s secretary, Mable, took forever to check my studio for evidence. When they’d finally left, I’d had to quickly finish up the last of the purses and rush to the meeting. Late...conspicuous...and
so
hungry.

The meeting was in full swing and my nemesis, Deanna Summers, city councilwoman extraordinaire, had the podium.

“Is that everyone who has something to contribute to the Jessup Fallfest?”

My fingers suddenly went numb where they gripped the Dillard’s shopping bag that held the purses. My stomach lurched and my knees trembled. Clearing my throat, I said quietly, maybe too quietly, “I have something.”

“Okay, if that’s all, we’ll move to the next—”

“I have something,” I said more loudly, and this time, it was a shout. Fifty or so heads turned in my direction, and I wanted to fall through the over-waxed wood floor.

Deanna’s piercing gaze focused on me. She was a tall woman, attractive, in a female wrestler sort of way. She had wide shoulders and streaked blonde hair. Her eyes were a deep brown that darkened to onyx when she was angry. They were onyx right now.

“The council recognizes Isabelle Connelly,” she said grudgingly.

I walked on quivering legs to the front of the room and stepped up on the stage next to Deanna. “There are twenty purses in here I’d like to donate for sale at the festival,” I said into the mic. “Handmade,” I added quickly, although I wasn’t sure why.

Deanna’s thin lips turned up in a smug parody of a smile. “I don’t believe folks around here can afford your fancy California purses, Isabelle.”

“Oh, no, they’re not. Not at all. They’re cheap.” A small titter went through the crowd and my face warmed. “I mean, I’m selling them for twenty dollars each. They’re not fancy.”

I dared to look out into the sea of faces. Relief coursed through me when my eyes met Liza Loomis’s. Liza was gorgeous and leggy, with coppery red hair and dazzling pale green eyes. She had always been nice to me, one of the few in town who had, and she probably had more reason to dislike me than anyone.

Hutch and I had dated for two years, but when I moved to Houston to go to design school, due to the difficulty of keeping up a long-distance relationship, we’d broken up. Not long after, Liza started dating him and became pregnant. Even though he and I were no longer a couple, the news crushed me. I’d had this futile notion that one day, Hutch and I would get back together.

Liza and Hutch were going to marry, but before the wedding, she miscarried. Hutch stayed with her for a while, but the wedding never took place, and eventually, they broke up. Rumor around town was, he didn’t want to be with her because he wasn’t over me. I didn’t believe it, but I would have thought there would be awkwardness, maybe resentment, between me and Liza. Surprisingly, there never had been.

She smiled at me and said, “I think the purses are a fantastic idea. Thanks so much, Isabelle.”

Deanna tightened her lips. She and Liza were best friends. Not much Deanna could say now. “Great. Fine. Please have them at the fairgrounds half an hour before the festival.”

“You don’t need to look at them first?” I asked.

Deanna gave a quick shake of her head and curled her nose at the bag I held. “No, that won’t be necessary. But please stay until the end of the meeting so you can fill out the proper forms for the donation.”

Oh crap. I’d intended to leave the purses here and take off. I didn’t want to stay for the meeting, and I didn’t want to bring the handbags back for the festival. I should’ve gone with my first instinct and only made a cash donation. But, I felt I should contribute work of some kind, since I knew the festival coordinators wouldn’t want me to help at the actual event.

If I were honest, part of me hoped the ladies in town would see the purses and like them. Hoped they might be a little impressed at my talent and maybe, just maybe, think there was
something
good about me. Pathetic, I know. I shouldn’t care what these people thought of me. But apparently, I did.

I waited through the rest of the exceedingly dull meeting, pining after the cinnamon rolls the entire time. When the meeting was over, Liza came up to me and reached out for my hand, giving it a squeeze. “It’s so good to see you, Isabelle. We don’t see enough of you.”

“Thank you. Good to see you, too.”

“I heard about your break-in. I’m so sorry.”

I nodded but before I could respond, Deanna walked up behind Liza, glaring at me. “Yes, we heard,” she said, but she didn’t say
she
was sorry.

“Was anything very important taken?” Liza asked.

“No. It was mostly just a big mess,” I replied, thinking if they gave out awards for understatements, I should get one for that.

Deanna laughed harshly. “Sort of like you and your family, huh? Just one great big mess.”

“Deanna!” Liza shrieked. “What an awful thing to say.”

“Well, its true, isn’t it? Her family was nothing but trouble, and now, it’s the same with her.”

I felt tears at the back of my throat, partly from embarrassment, partly from anger. I wanted to lash out at her, but the last thing I needed was a scene, especially one with the venerable Deanna Summers.

“Where do I go to fill out paperwork?” I asked Liza.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” She threw a look over her shoulder at Deanna, but the woman only gave a self-righteous smile.

When we were out of earshot, Liza said, “Please don’t pay attention to her. She’s just bitter and takes it out on everyone. Did you know about her husband leaving her for another woman?”

I nodded. I’d heard the gossip.

“Well,” Liza continued, “She seems to hold it against every woman who’s not in her inner circle. And, she knows what happened, with us, and Rick.”

I looked at her in surprise. Was she insinuating I’d come between her and Hutch? I hadn’t even been in the state. “That was a long time ago. And Hutch and I were over before...”

“Oh, I know. She knows it, too. She just wants to blame you for our breakup because it’s a way of re-directing her anger at the woman who ran off with her husband. Plus,” she said, her green eyes twinkling, “she knows her brother
has a mega-crush on you.”

We’d reached the table where the festival paperwork sat, saving me from a response as I filled out a form. When I finished, I said my goodbyes and hurriedly left the building.

“That was pretty brutal.”

I drew in a sharp breath and whirled, clasping a hand to my chest. “You scared me half to death!” I said to Hutch, who was leaning against the wall next to the door.

He straightened. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry about what happened in there.”

“How did you know? Were you there?” Surely I would have noticed him in the crowd.

He shrugged. “Sort of. I was in the office attached to the meeting hall going over some documents they wanted me to look at. I heard.”

“Ah, well.” I laughed self-consciously. “You can’t be the town leper without expecting that sort of treatment.”

His eyes narrowed, and I thought he was going to argue with me, but instead he said, “I heard my crack forensics team came out this morning. If they found anything, we should know in the next day or two.”

“Good. Have you talked to Patrick?”

“No. I went by, but he’s sleeping off a humdinger of a drunk. I couldn’t get one coherent word out of him. I’ll keep trying, though.”

I bet you will,
I thought, and immediately felt bad about it. Maybe he really was trying to find out who’d broken into my studio. Even if it was Patrick.

“Okay, well, just let me know.”

He nodded, then said, “Hey, how about if I buy you dinner this evening? We haven’t seen much of each other since you came home. I wanted to wait a while, you know, with what happened to your parents. But, I’ve missed you. I’d like to take you out.”

“You mean, like a date?”

“If you want to call it that.” He smiled.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Hutch. I can’t. I mean...I don’t think...” I couldn’t tell him that the very thought of socializing with anyone, especially a man, especially a man from Jessup, terrified me. That this town, and everyone in it, represented the fear and tragedy that my life had become. I had no room, no enthusiasm, for a social life. And, even though it had been years ago, I hadn’t forgotten what it felt like to be hurt by Rick Hutchings. “I’m not going to be here much longer, and—”

“No need to explain. It was just a thought.” He gave me another smile, but his eyes looked wounded. “I’ll let you know what I find out about your break-in. See you around.”

He walked away, not looking back, and I sighed, somehow feeling even more dejected than I had earlier, when Deanna skewered me in front of the whole town.

****

On Sunday evening, three days after the meeting, I had just finished piecing together the remnants of the tie, trying to create something that would at least resemble the original, when I heard a car drive up. I walked out of my studio and saw Hutch climb out of his cruiser.

When I approached him, he didn’t speak, just peered at me from beneath the brim of his hat.

“Do you have news?” I asked. “Did you speak to Patrick?”

“I’m afraid not,” he admitted.

“You’re not going to question him about the break in, are you?”

He looked up at the cabin. “Can we go inside?”

I stalked to the house, frustration mounting as I closed the door behind us. I crossed my arms and turned to face Hutch. “Why won’t you talk to him?” I demanded, exasperated.

“Because...” He hesitated, then said bluntly, “He’s dead.”

I gasped and shook my head. “What? How?”

“We’re waiting for the autopsy results, but it looks like poison.”

“Alcohol poison?”

“No.
Poison
. Deadly poison.”

“You mean, murdered?”

He nodded. “There are accidental poisonings, but the evidence suggests it was intentional. So, yeah, murdered.”

“Oh, my God.” I walked on wobbly legs to the kitchen and dropped into a chair. He followed, removing his hat and rain slicker, but remained standing.

I knew I should feel sad. Patrick was my uncle. But I didn’t. Just a numb sense of disbelief. Maybe the grief would come when the shock wore off. I hoped when that happened, I wouldn’t feel what had briefly flashed through my mind...relief.

“Who would want to murder Patrick?” I asked.

“I don’t know. There are a lot of people who didn’t care if he lived or died, but probably very few who actually
wanted
him dead.”

“Do you have any suspects?”

“Not yet.” He shrugged and said casually, almost too casually, “Did you know poison is most often the chosen method for women who kill?”

“No.”

He nodded, his expression grave, considering. Rain started falling, hitting the roof with a noisy dissonance. Hutch looked skyward, then back at me. “Gets pretty muddy out here when it rains, huh?”

“Yes.” I fiddled with an oven mitt I’d left lying on the table as I answered.

“That distinctive, hard to remove red mud.”

“Yes,” I responded slowly, cautiously. This wasn’t just idle chatter.

“Has Patrick been back out here lately? Since Tuesday, when you two argued?”

“No. Why?”

Again, the casual shrug. “Red mud was found in his home, near where his body was discovered.”

My fingers stilled, and my gaze flew to his. “Do you think I did this? Am I a suspect?”

“I didn’t say that. We’re just beginning the investigation. I can honestly say I can’t see you as a killer.”

“But?”

“There are a lot of people who don’t like you, and maybe a few who like you a little too much.”

“I’m not following.”

“Whoever did this may have done it because they dislike you, or they may have done it because they like you a great deal. Patrick hurt you by vandalizing your studio. Assuming, of course, Patrick is the one who did it. And, whether he did it or not, that’s the general opinion around town, so his killer may have been getting revenge for you.”

I shook my head. “That’s crazy. And I can assure you
no one
in this town likes me enough to do anything like that.”

“Not even Brandon?”

There was something in his voice. Jealousy? I looked at him, but couldn’t read his expression. He couldn’t be jealous, could he?

“Funny how there are no secrets around here,” I muttered, wondering how on earth Hutch knew about Brandon’s crush.

“Small town like this, there aren’t many. Is there anyone who’s made threats to you lately? Seemed particularly angry? Any altercations you’ve been involved in?”

I thought for a moment. “Deanna Summers. You heard her at the town meeting. And afterward, she was...she seemed highly upset with me. Very confrontational.” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “But, I’m not saying she’d do something like this. No way.”

“You never know. I’ll talk to her.”

The rain intensified, sounding like a million tiny rocks falling on the roof. I looked up toward the ceiling, then at Hutch. “You’d better go if you want to make it out of here before the water gets too high on the road. Makes it kind of tough to navigate in the dark.”

He nodded and put on his hat and raincoat. “I’ll be in touch,” he said, and I wondered why it sounded a teeny bit like a threat.