Mission to Murder (14 page)

I sniffed. “How can you be sure?”

“You made me take a mouse out of the no-kill trap last month and release it over at the park. And I’m constantly being called in to swat a spider in the back room. I don’t know if you’ve even stepped on an ant.” Toby took a bite out of his dessert. “So you think you could have stabbed a man enough times to kill him? I don’t think so.”

“Spiders creep me out. And mice.” I regarded the guy sitting across from me. Toby had been knocked unconscious a few months ago guarding my house when Miss Emily’s disgruntled family tried to steal back their inheritance. I hadn’t known him except as Greg’s partner before he’d started working the afternoon shift. But the more we talked, the more I liked the guy. The church lady was right; we needed to find him a steady girl.

“And yet you think anyone who has ever met you could peg you for a murderer?” Toby glanced at the clock and finished the last swig of coffee. “Gotta go make the streets of South Cove safe from any more roving tour buses.”

“Or you could barricade the road until I close this evening.” I grinned. “Tuesdays are supposed to be slow. I’ve got tons of work I need to get accomplished in the next few hours.”

Toby gave me the littlest violin hand gesture. “Customers are good for business, you need to remember that.”

“Yah, yah.” I took our plates to the sink and then grabbed the tray Toby’d been using. “Get out of here.”

“Yes, boss.” Toby grabbed his jacket and headed to the door. “You drove back this afternoon, right?”

“No. I’m walking home. It’s still light at nine.” I piled cups and plates onto a tray and started wiping down tables.

“You shouldn’t until this thing is settled. You know someone killed Craig.” Toby stood in the doorway, holding the door open.

“Yeah, and right now, I’m the fall guy. Why would they kill me and prove I wasn’t the murderer?” I picked up the full tray.

Toby seemed to consider my point and grudgingly nodded. “I get that. But I’ll be here at nine to give you a ride home in the police cruiser.” He grinned. “I’ll even let you ride in the back like a real criminal.”

“Oh, the joy.” I started rinsing plates and putting them into the dishwasher.

“See you then.” And Toby was gone.

I didn’t want to ride in the back of the police cruiser. Maybe I should call Greg and ask him to convince Toby I was fine. No, he’d probably agree with his deputy. Maybe Aunt Jackie would take me home?

I contemplated the ceiling, thinking about my aunt. She still hadn’t called or come down to see me. Maybe she didn’t get my note. I finished rinsing, turned on the dishwasher, and wiped my hands. Then I called up to the apartment.

Five rings and I got her answering machine. Yes, my aunt still had an honest-to-goodness answering machine hooked up to her landline. Just like me. “Aunt Jackie? Pick up, it’s me, Jill. Are you up there?” I waited but then the machine thanked me for calling and clicked off. Then I called her cell. Still no answer. I left another message. Glancing around the empty shop, I took a chance and ran to the back. I opened the back door to the parking lot, but her car wasn’t there.

“Where are you?” I whispered as I closed and locked the back door. I grabbed my laptop and headed to the front. It was time to order in book stock and more desserts. I hoped Sadie would be able to fill a double order this week. I didn’t want to be totally optimistic, but the tour bus had wiped out my stockpile I’d frozen. I would use up the extra pies even if it meant sending one home with Greg or Toby.

An hour passed and I’d completed my weekly order and sent e-mails to Sadie and Bill. I loved being able to use local suppliers as much as they probably loved the business I gave them. Seven
P.M.
and the evening temperature outside cooled. I was considering shutting early but instead, I pulled out one of the new releases I’d ordered for the store last week and started in on my research duties. Reading. Sometimes it was good to be an owner.

The bell on the door pulled me out of the book. I’d been lost in the pages. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was already eight-thirty. My stomach grumbled in protest as I’d forgotten to eat the turkey sandwich I’d brought for dinner. I loved it when a book captivated me that way. I set the paperback aside and stood to greet my customer.

“Hey, Jill.” Brenda Morgan stood at the doorway. Fifi was on a leash at her side. “You mind if I bring her in? She’s been through so much, I hate to tie her up outside.”

“It’s only you and me, no worries. Come on in. Can I get you something?”

Brenda and Fifi came into the shop and sat at a table. Fifi immediately lay at her owner’s feet. The dog was trained. “Coffee. Black and regular. Yes, I know it’s late, but I need the caffeine.”

I poured coffee into a carafe and took it and two cups out to the table. “Mind if I join you?” I asked as I filled her cup.

“Actually, I was hoping you would. I need to talk to someone beside Fifi.” Hearing her name, the standard poodle raised her head and her tail thumped on the floor.

I slipped into the chair across from Brenda. “What’s going on? Are you doing okay? I know you guys have been divorced for over a year, but still, it must have been a shock.”

“Actually, we never finalized the papers. I’m still Mrs. Craig Morgan.” Brenda took a sip of coffee. “Or more accurately, I’m the widow Morgan.” She considered her bright blue track suit. “Maybe I should be wearing black?”

“I don’t think that tradition holds anymore. Especially since you guys were all but divorced.” I considered keeping my mouth shut, but then blurted, “How come you didn’t sign? He was a royal jerk to you.”

Brenda smiled. “The man could be nice. It was just rare.”

When I protested, she held up a hand. “You sound like my sponsor.”

“What sponsor?” Had she had a drinking problem?

“When I left, I joined a program. They set me up with a woman who’d really had a bad life.” She shook her head. “Vanna’s stories about her husband made Craig look like an angel. She’s not happy I’m even here.”

“But Craig’s dead.” I didn’t understand.

Brenda shrugged. “She thinks I’m going back to my old life. That I’ll be vulnerable again. And since we never divorced, I guess in a way, I am.”

“You never pursued the divorce?” I would have run straight to a family law attorney as soon as I left town.

“I wasn’t the one holding up the divorce. Craig was. He said he wanted to give us another shot. He was working on something that would have given him more time to devote to us, rather than being on twenty-four/seven at The Castle. The man worked way too much.”

I guess everyone had a secret side. But to call Craig a devoted family man was going a step too far. At least from my interactions with the guy. I leaned back. “So how are you holding up now?”

Brenda dabbed her eyes. “It’s hard. I don’t even know when I can plan the funeral or whom to invite. He made a lot of enemies in the town. Do you think anyone would show if I did the funeral here? Maybe over at Oak Street Methodist? I know neither Craig nor I were members, but I was raised Methodist and it would mean a lot to me.”

“You need to talk to Pastor Bill. I’m sure he’d help with the arrangements. And Doc Ames, of course.” It wasn’t like I was an expert in funerals, but since I’d been the one in charge of Miss Emily’s earlier this year, I knew whom to send her to. And Doc, as the county coroner and the owner of the local funeral home, would be able to advise her.

“I appreciate your help. I know people are saying things about you and Craig.” Brenda tore at her napkin. “That you would have already been in jail if you weren’t dating Greg.”

“I didn’t kill Craig. And there’s no evidence proving I did. That’s why I’m not in jail, not because Greg and I are involved.” I tried to keep my tone from betraying the anger I felt at her words. Greg didn’t deserve the slight, and I definitely hated the town’s rumor mill.

Brenda put her hand on mine. “I don’t mean to upset you. I wanted to say, I don’t care who killed him. The murderer did me a favor. Craig dead is the only way I could get my freedom. And for that, I’m grateful.”

“Seriously, Brenda, I didn’t kill Craig.” My voice raised in volume, trying to get her to understand.

“Whatever.” Brenda took a sip of her coffee. “I’m just glad Vanna didn’t kill him.”

B
renda’s words shocked me. “You shouldn’t talk like that. Someone might think you’re serious.”

“Honey, I am serious. The guy wouldn’t give up, and Vanna hated him for it. I’m not stupid, I know he didn’t love me. I just couldn’t say no around him. I’m like an addict with the wrong men. And Craig, he didn’t want to lose something he owned. So he gave me the song and dance that once this big deal came through, he’d be different. Not as driven.” Brenda snorted. “I’m not sure I could have been strong much longer. And then, when he got me back, everything I’d worked for would have gone down the drain. I like my life. I have friends.”

“Well, you got away. And you got the last laugh.” I reached down to pet Fifi. “You get to start over now. Do you have plans?”

Brenda shook her head. “I’ve got to wait for the investigation to end so the insurance will pay out. Of course we had savings, a lot more than he led me to believe when I moved into the city. The guy pleaded poverty and now I find he has cash stashed in his apartment at The Castle. No wonder my attorney couldn’t find it.”

“Did you tell the police what you found?” Greg hadn’t mentioned an unusual amount of cash in Craig’s apartment. Maybe that was why the guy was killed, someone else knew about the stash.

Brenda’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding, right? This is my money, or would have been if he’d been honest during our talks about divorce. No way am I going to risk losing it.”

“Why would you lose the money?” Brenda’s logic sounded reasonable, but something kept nagging at me about Craig stashing money. I tried one more time, “The money may be why Craig was killed. Maybe it’s not his?”

“My former husband was pretty good at playing both sides of the fence. If he was holding this cash out of the banking system, I can assure you, he did something he didn’t want others to know about.”

I thought about the receipts for “services” I’d found at Josh’s store. Had Josh been part of this cash business? I watched Brenda take a sip of her coffee. “Do you know whether Craig and Josh had a business arrangement? Was Josh doing appraisals for The Castle?”

She glanced in the direction of Antiques by Thomas, like she could see through the building’s walls. “You mean the new antique dealer?” Brenda shrugged. “Maybe. I know Craig was always griping about having to call in someone from Bakerstown. I assume he’d rather use a local guy and save on the travel charges.”

“Enough business to pay out thousands of dollars to an appraiser?” I thought of the stack of receipts I’d found.

“I don’t think Craig paid over a thousand for a year of appraisals. The Castle didn’t buy that much new stuff anymore. New purchases have only been for select pieces that add to their collections.” She stood, laying a ten on the table. “That’s for the coffee. We’re staying out on that chain just before you get into Bakerstown.” She gathered Fifi’s leash and swung her purse over her shoulder. “Tell your aunt I’ll be here for her Cloaked in Mystery night. I’m looking forward to celebrating something. I’ll call you about the funeral.”

I followed Brenda and Fifi to the door, then turned the open sign over to closed as I locked the door. They crossed the street and passed by Ray Stewart, who must have been at the liquor store down the street. Fifi started barking and pulling at the leash. Brenda grabbed her collar and I saw Ray swing wide around the dog on his way to his truck. “Shut that mutt up,” he yelled at Brenda after he’d closed the truck door.

Fifi jerked against her leash again, and I watched as Brenda strained to hold her back. At least the dog had good taste, I thought. Ray sped away down the street, and Fifi calmed down. Brenda saw me watching and smiled, indicating she had it under control.

I thought the woman was fooling herself about being in control, either with the dog or her life. But who was I to judge? I turned off the outside lights and walked through the shop, turning off lamps and lights that gave the place a homey feeling. I took the cash drawer out of the register and grabbed the book I’d been reading. The rest I’d clean up tomorrow morning when I opened. Locking the drawer in the safe, I grabbed my purse and headed upstairs to the apartment.

Once more I knocked on the door with no response. Now I was beginning to worry. Again, feeling foolish, I checked the parking lot. The only car in the lot was Toby’s cruiser. My ride was here.

Toby stepped out of the car and held open the back door. “Your chariot awaits.”

“You realize my neighbors are going to think you arrested me for Craig’s murder, right? Brenda says everyone is already saying I did the deed.” I peered into the back; it appeared clean, black vinyl on the bench seat rather than cloth. Probably so the blood and vomit from prior passengers could be hosed out.

“I’d put you up front, but the computer doesn’t move. There’s no front passenger seat. You can deal with the back for the two minutes it will take to get you home safely.” Toby nodded to the car.

“I could walk,” I protested.

Toby shook his head. “I called Greg. He said either you come willingly or I
am
to arrest you and take you down to the station for questioning.”

“That’s blackmail,” I grumbled as I slipped into the back.

Toby shut the door, then climbed into the driver’s side. “Nope, that’s two people who care about your safety. You want me to use the lights?”

“No!” Then I saw his eyes in the rearview mirror. He’d been teasing. I leaned back, resigned. “Hey, did Jackie say she was going somewhere today?”

Toby pulled onto Main Street heading toward my house. “No. But I haven’t seen her since Saturday. Why?”

“I haven’t been able to reach her all day.” I watched the town pass by as Toby drove. The closed shops’ lights twinkled in the gathering darkness. Strings of white lights went from one tree to the next down the street. Soon, we’d be decorating for the summer festival and the street would look like a Beach Boys Revival/Retro Fifties theme.

When Toby pulled into my driveway, I tried to open the door. No luck. He shut the engine off and climbed out of the car. Opening the door, he swept down into a full bow. “Delivered safely.”

“You’re a nut.” I started walking to the fence gate. A thought stopped me. “Hey, if you hear something tonight on the police scanner, or if you’re called to a wreck or something, let me know if Jackie’s involved, would ya? Even if she tells you not to?”

“Of course. What, do you think I’d hide something like that from you?” He shut the cruiser door. “She’s fine. I’m sure she took off because she had the day off. You know, like a vacation day? Where you can do things like visit art galleries or go shopping? Or even”—he fake-gasped—“visit a friend in a nearby town?”

I pressed my lips together, trying to stop the smile. “Okay, I get your point. I’m concerned, that’s all.”

“I’ll keep an eye out to see when she comes home. If I see her, I’ll tell her to give you a call.” He climbed in the driver’s side and then leaned out the window. “I’ll even use the lights pulling her over. That should give her a jolt.”

“Good night, Toby,” I called back without turning around.

He tapped his siren in response. I could kill the kid. Except for the fact he brought in a lot of traffic to the shop. And he had a good heart, and a twisted sense of humor. Thank God my nearest neighbor was Esmeralda. She would give Toby a piece of her mind in the morning if he’d interrupted one of her private readings.

I unlocked the door and turned on the lights. Toby’s cruiser still sat in the driveway. He saw me watching, waved, then backed onto the street. I shut the door and set the dead bolt. Then I went to the back door to let Emma in for the night.

She sat at the door, staring. When I opened the door, her tail started thumping. “Hey, girl.” I stepped outside to give her a quick hug. She gave me a quick bark, then ran to the back of the yard and grabbed her tennis ball. She’d taken up ball chasing on days when I worked too long to take her for a run. She returned to the porch and dropped her ball. I grabbed the slobber-covered toy and threw it out to the edge of the yard. While she was chasing, I returned to the kitchen, grabbing a soda from the fridge. We’d be playing for a while.

I thought about Fifi and the close call from being tied up on the beach. If someone did that to my dog, I’d . . . I stopped before I said I’d kill them. People already thought I’d killed once. Broadcasting empty threats into the universe wouldn’t help the cause. When I returned to the porch, I reached down again and threw the ball farther this time. I sat on the swing, watching the night.

I loved my yard, my dog, my life. Emma bounded back up on the porch and put the ball into my lap. Except this time, it wasn’t a tennis ball at all. Gingerly, I picked up the gift the dog had brought and took it into the kitchen, sitting it on the counter out of Emma’s reach. She’d followed me and whined when I stopped the game of fetch.

Picking up the cell, I dialed a familiar number. When a man answered, I said, “I think you need to look at this.”

Greg had been working on paperwork at City Hall so it took him less than five minutes before he was knocking at the front door. I’d forgotten to unlock it. I went to let him in.

“What’s happening?” He gripped my arms as he came through the door. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. You need to see this. Tell me if it’s what I think it is.” I walked back to the kitchen, Greg following close behind. It hadn’t escaped my notice he’d kept his hand on the butt of his service revolver. What can I say—I love the strong, silent type. Right now, I was glad I had someone to call when weird stuff happened.

The metal ball-shaped item still sat on my fake granite countertop. Just sitting there. Emma had given up on any idea of playing catch and had taken to her bed in a corner of the kitchen. When she saw Greg, she popped up to greet him.

“Hey, girl.” Greg reached down and rubbed behind Emma’s ears. “So what did you find?”

“I’m not sure, but isn’t this one of those incense carriers they use in Catholic services?” I leaned closer. “It’s dirty, but I think that’s what it is.”

Greg bent down to get closer to the ball. “You’re right. It’s a censer or thurible—depending on your sect. The altar boys used to carry it before the priest when I attended service as a kid.”

“So what’s it doing in your backyard?”

Greg, not taking his eyes off the metal ball, answered, “That is an excellent question.”

“That you can’t answer.” I leaned my head back. “Do you think it’s from the mission? Could Emma have dug it up somehow?”

“Just because I don’t know the answer doesn’t make the question not excellent.” He led me over to the table. “When is Amy’s friend coming by?”

“Tomorrow night. She’s bringing him over after they have dinner at Lille’s.”

Greg nodded, thoughtful. “Maybe he can determine the approximate age of the censer.”

I frowned. “But you think it’s old?”

“It could be from the mission or”—Greg paused—“I think there was a mention of a missing censer on Craig’s list of what was taken from The Castle the night of the break-in.”

I swallowed. Every time I thought things were getting clearer, Craig’s death popped back into the picture. “So Amy’s friend can tell us if it’s the stolen Castle item or from the mission site?”

Greg shrugged. “Maybe. I’m always amazed at the information specialists can get off the strangest things.” He absently petted Emma, who’d put her head on his leg. The dog was staring at the censer and gave out a short bark.

I inched the relic farther away from the edge of the counter. It might have been Emma’s chew toy, but now, it might be much more valuable. I opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a bone-shaped dog treat. Emma sat straighter, watching me. I gave her the treat as a replacement. “Good girl. Now go lie down.”

The dog headed straight for her bed in the kitchen and started focusing on the bone. Watching her reminded me of Fifi and Brenda’s visit to the shop. “Brenda’s glad to have Fifi back. She doesn’t look bad for almost being sea lion fodder.”

“Brenda or the dog?” Greg teased.

“Fifi. Although she is a bit touchy. She went crazy when Ray walked by. I guess she has good taste in people.” I slipped back into a chair at the table, opening my notebook and listing off one more to-do for tomorrow—calling Amy to confirm her friend’s visit. “I wonder if I should send him pictures before he comes by?”

“Wait, Fifi went crazy on Ray?” Greg moved forward in his chair and tapped me on the hand to get my attention.

“Batshit crazy. I swear I didn’t know if Brenda was going to be able to hold him back.” I cocked my head and watched Greg’s face. “Why?”

“Studies say dogs remember people who were mean to them. Maybe Ray had a run-in with Fifi?”

“Like dragging her to the beach and tying her up kind of run-in?” I ran through the scene I’d witnessed earlier. “Ray did say he’d been working for Craig. Maybe he went looking for the money he claimed Craig owed him.”

Greg shook his head. “No. Craig wrote him a check the same day he was killed. I’ve already got a copy from the bank.”

“Maybe he didn’t think it was enough?” My words hung in the kitchen for a long time while Greg sat, apparently thinking.

“Or Fifi was reacting to something else,” he finally muttered, glancing over at Emma, who had finished her treat and now was gently snoring. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Have you eaten?” I glanced at the fridge, wondering what I could whip up quickly.

Greg stood. “Toby brought me over chicken from Lille’s after he dropped you off. He wanted to tell me you were home safe.”

My lips pressed together. “You mean he wanted to let you know how funny he thought the whole thing was.”

“Just the South Cove Police Department taking the safety of our citizens seriously.” Greg kissed me quickly, then patted me on the head. “Sorry, kiddo, but there was no way I would have let you walk home after dark when all this is happening in town. You don’t know what or who would see that as an opportunity.”

I shook my head. “Why would they kill me? Right now, I’m the best patsy to blame Craig’s murder on, ask anyone. Heck, Brenda practically came out and thanked me for doing the deed.”