Poisoned Pin: A Cozy Mystery (Brenna Battle Book 2) (4 page)

“Who is it?” Jill asked.

“It’s Derek, Harvey’s nephew,” Will replied.

“Oh,” Jill said. “That’s awful.” Then she spotted Harvey, sitting on the lower brick steps, knees pulled up to his chest. “Harvey?” she called. He lifted his head a little and she walked over to him. “Are you okay?”

“Are she and Harvey friends?” I said. Though the selfish,
Stuck-in-Seventh-Grade-Crush-Land
part of me kind of wanted to ask whether she and
Will
were friends, I really needed to know whether Harvey had anyone else to look out for him—at least temporarily—now that Derek was … gone.

“They’re friendly neighbors. Jill and her husband, Gary, try to keep an eye on him. Or at least they did before Derek moved in.”

Yes! Someone else was checking in on Harvey, at least. And there was a husband for Jill. I doubted Will was the type to get too friendly with a married woman. And if he was, then good riddance.

“So Derek actually moved in? When was that?” I tried to sound casual. You know, like I wasn’t trying to interfere completely in the life of a crazy old man I’d just met.

“Just a couple months ago. The house wasn’t really Derek’s, but he was its guardian on Harvey’s behalf.”

I noticed Will used the past-tense when talking about Derek, just as I did. He hadn’t been officially pronounced dead yet, but we both knew it was true. So, the house was still Harvey’s. At least he’d have that.

The paramedics loaded Derek up, and Will and I stood side by side, watching the ambulance pull away.

“Shouldn’t you follow the ambulance or something?” I said.

Will frowned at me. “That’s not common procedure when there’s no crime involved.”

“But—”

“Brenna. Please tell me you’re not buying into all that junk Harvey was ranting about.”

“Of course not! I don’t think some lady who died a hundred years ago came back to do him in. But still, I just … I have a feeling, that’s all.”

“A feeling?”

“I was right last time, wasn’t I?” Okay, so I was sort of on the wrong track with the murder the week before last. But my suspicions had eventually led me to the real murderer. And my gut feeling about the victim had been right on. My trusty creep-o-meter, which I’d feared for a while was broken, had proven accurate after all.

My faithful inner alarm system had saved me from the heartache after heartache women like my sister had suffered. It had only failed me once, when it came to Jake, my former coach, and Blythe’s former husband. I’d thought he was The One, and I’d fallen into his arms after my latest Olympic failure. That was before he started dating Blythe. She never knew he’d dropped me like a hot potato the very next day. She still didn’t know our relationship had taken such an uncharacteristic turn, that we’d ever been romantically involved. I’d really been worried about my creep-o-meter, especially when Will Riggins showed an interest in me and didn’t set it off. I mean, since when does anyone who’s not a creep show an interest in Brenna Battle?
 

“So, you don’t even want to find out what happened to him?” I said.

Riggins gave me a wounded look. A look that made my cheeks burn. With what? Embarrassment? Guilt? Absolute twitterpation? For a moment there, I thought I’d do just about anything to get him to stop looking at me like that. To smile at me again.

“If there’s a crime to be dealt with, Brenna, I’ll take care of it.”

I do know how to do my job
, his tone said. But Will Riggins was too polite to give voice to it. Which is why he really belonged with someone like Blythe. Why he really should not have kissed me on that bench in the park overlook, with the sparkling waters of Bonney Bay in the background. If he hadn’t realized that before, I’d just made sure he did now.

“Oh,” I said lamely. “Okay.”

What the heck was that? Brenna Battle couldn’t even come up with a smart, pride-saving comeback? Nope. The only thing coming up for me was a batch of tears. I turned away and started walking home before anyone could see. The whole day seemed to come crashing in on me at once.

Poor Derek, uncaring nephew though he was, was dead. Harvey was left to live alone in this big old house he believed to be haunted by murderous spirits from the past. I’d made Will feel like I thought he was incompetent, and I hadn’t even apologized. That’s exactly what I should have done. Except I don’t really do apologies. Who was the last person I’d apologized to, besides Blythe? How often did I apologize to her, anyway?

And why did I care so much about Will Riggins and his feelings? It wasn’t so much that I cared what he thought of me; I cared that he was hurt. I cared about
him
. And I had no business caring about Will Riggins. I told myself he’d get over his hurt feelings fast enough. He was a guy, after all. As for what he thought of me, it was better this way. Contrary to what Blythe thought, I did not need a relationship right now.

I walked briskly across the street, as though I had something important to do in the park, as if I didn’t really want to break into a run. As if there weren’t tears streaming down my face. Past the big wooden swing, around the side of a big bush, was a stone bench, just like the benches anchored in the rolling hill of an open lawn that comprised most of the park. But this bench was clearly meant for seclusion. For moments like this.

Okay, so it was probably really meant for lovers to sit on, hand in hand, whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears. Too bad my life was turning into a not-so-sweet bunch of nothing. Anyway, a moment on that bench was just what I needed. It was just a few feet from the bramble-covered edge of the rocky slope to the beach forty feet below. Completely secluded. Perfect. Just the right spot for an epic meltdown.

Around the corner from the bench grew a cluster of small, windblown trees that formed a cave-like nook. The sort of place that would’ve been magic to me and Blythe when we were kids. In a simpler time, when make-believe was all but real and my Olympic dreams were brand new, covered in the same kind of glitter as Blythe’s Cinderella play-acting.

“Where’s the glitter!” I yelled through my tears. “Where’s my fairy godmother?”

The bush rustled. Two little heads peeked around the corner. A boy about eight years old, brandishing a stick, ready to strike out at the crazy lady. His button nose was scrunched up, his eyes narrowed. Beside him was a girl about three or four, wearing a purple princess dress over her jeans and T-shirt. Her dark brown eyes were wide and serious.

Oh. My. Word. I choked down a sob. This was it. Just the perfect way to top off the monumental awfulness of the day. They were young kids. Their mother wouldn’t be far away. I was only moments away from total humiliation. I tried to think of something reassuring, something not crazy to say. Something to explain my toddler-esque outburst.

“Are you a bum?” the little boy said.

Okay, so the kid wasn’t very PC yet. I was just about to say yes, and hope he dismissed me and forgot me altogether, but the little girl ripped the stick from her brother’s hand and gave it a little shake in my direction. There was no mistaking the wand-waving gesture.

For a second, I just gaped. The boy took his stick back with an eye-roll at his sister.

She regarded me expectantly, as though waiting to see if her magic had any effect. “Thank you,” I whispered with a smile. I didn’t know whether to cry or to laugh.

She smiled back, and I swear it glittered. And then the boy jerked her away, and they both disappeared around the corner, the boy yelling, “Mom!”

I tumbled off the bench and tore through the bushes in the opposite direction. I was going to have to take the long way home.

6

I thought I’d done a pretty good job of composing myself before I pushed open the dojo door—until Blythe looked up at me and the smile froze on her face. She hurried gracefully around her desk and to me. “What’s the matter?”

My phone chirped. “Just a sec,” I mumbled, grateful for the chance to look down. I had a text from Will. “He’s gone,” it said. “Thought you’d want to know.”

“Thanks,” I texted back. I didn’t know what else to say. I don’t exactly have a way with words, and
good to know
seemed all wrong.

“Brenna?”

I raised my head. I was about to answer Blythe, but I felt a lump rising in my throat. I shrugged instead.

“Brenna! You’ve been crying! Come on, sit down. It’s not that bad. We’ll get customers. We’ll make this work.”

“It’s not that. Well, not
just
that. Someone—someone died. I gave him CPR, but he died anyway.”

Blythe ran for the tissues and we ended up sitting side by side on the crash mat, a thick, cushiony blue pad we’d bought for when our Bonney Bay Battlers needed a little more protection when practicing their throws. I told Blythe the whole, awkward, crazy story about Harvey and Derek.

I could almost see Blythe biting her tongue in order not to lecture me on going into that house with Harvey.

When I got to the end of the tale, Blythe said, “So, how is Will?”

I’m sure it was part nosiness, part a desire to distract me. “He’s—Will.”

Blythe gave me a jab. Now was the perfect time to tell her. She couldn’t really hound me about it, given the traumatic events I’d just endured. I felt a little pang of guilt at that thought, but it was true. “
I’m
not going to be seeing Will.” Will, with his killer smile and his honest eyes. Will with the dimples that just about made me want to die. Will, who, underneath his professional responsibilities, had wanted to protect me from everything that had started to go so horribly wrong as soon as Blythe and I arrived here in Bonney Bay.

Blythe sat back and folded her arms. “Is he going somewhere? Because I know you’re not telling me you’re not going to be
seeing
Will Riggins!”

“He’s not going anywhere. But Will and me aren’t going anywhere either, and I know you know what I mean.”

“But he’s—”

“Not what I need right now.”

“How do you know?”

Great. Even poor Harvey and Derek weren’t going to be enough to save me from my sister’s horror at the prospect of me becoming a spinster. It was only a matter of time before she married some successful guy, had a bunch of cute kids, and moved her pathetic, lonely older sister into the basement of their perfect home. Maybe here in Bonney Bay, with an ocean view. What did it matter? I’d be in the basement, and the basement never has an ocean view. I’d probably spend all day watching highlights of my competitive glory days on Youtube, pushing the mute button every time I heard Jake’s voice coaching me, and sobbing over a plate of brownies. Actually, I could really use some brownies right now. Maybe I could get Blythe to bake me some.

My blessedly loud ringtone blared. Hallelujah! I was saved! Okay, so I’ve cursed that ringtone more times than I can count, but this time, if I could’ve reached my lips through the phone, I would’ve kissed it, or whoever was on the other end of the line—unless it was Will.

I glanced at the screen. Ruth! It was Miss Ruth! I pushed the green button and gushed, “Miss Ruth! How are you?”

“Brenna?” she said. She sounded a little surprised. I guess, even for Miss Ruth, who’d only known me for a short time, the bubbliness was not quite expected from me.

“Yes, it’s Brenna,” I assured her. I toned down the enthusiasm a little bit.

But once she was sure she was talking to the right girl, Ruth’s enthusiasm more than matched mine. “I’m fabulous, Brenna! Just fabulous. Did I tell you I’m going on a cruise?”

“A cruise! Where to?”

“Australia! The Land Down Under. Wallabies and Koalas. The Australian Ballet at the Sydney Opera House! Do you know I haven’t taken a vacation—not more than a few days, anyway—in twenty years?”

“Wow, that’s a long time!” Blythe put in. She was leaning in close. Not that it took much leaning. Ruth was a loud talker.

“I’m putting you on speaker,” I said. “It’s just Blythe and me.”

“Hello, Blythe! You know, I could never really get away. I didn’t have anyone to fill in long term at Little Swans.” I could hear the wistfulness in Ruth’s voice, underneath the genuine jubilation at being free from her responsibilities for the first time in decades. Her ballerinas had needed her. They probably still did. Instead of Miss Ruth, there was just us now. Me and Blythe and our empty mats.

Ruth said, “So, how are my girls?”

“We’re fine,” Blythe said.

Miss Ruth laughed. “No, no. I’m glad you’re fine, but I meant my dancers!”

“Oh. Uh … ” I said, “the truth is, they’re not here, Miss Ruth.”

“That is, they haven’t come in to sign up yet,” Blythe said.

“What! Well, they can’t just sit around on their duffs, crying into their tutus! Enough of this. They need to discover new things, just like I am. Don’t you worry, girls, I’m sending out an e-mail and a group text right now. I see you’re having a free trial night on Thursday, but classes start today, don’t they?”

“Yes,” I said, “we thought we needed some time to advertise the free night, but we might as well get started with a regular class schedule as best we could. We thought if we had a few students who learned a thing or two, they could even show it off as part of the free trial class and demo. That would be the best advertisement. Brand new students already making progress. Local kids they know, doing judo. But so far that plan hasn’t panned out.”

Blythe said, “We might have to plan-
B
it. Just try to get them in for the demo night.”

“No, no. Plan
A
! It’s a great idea, and my dancers are just the kids to get started with.”

“Ruth,” I said tentatively, “don’t blame them if they don’t come. I think maybe that whole murder business put a damper on things. It’s understandable.”

“I’m sure no one blames us anymore,” Blythe put in, “but it’s only natural not to want to think about something so unpleasant.”

I said, “I guess we remind the whole town of a lot of unpleasant things.” Like the murder of their homegrown reporter, the corruption of some of the most trusted figures in Bonney Bay. And now, Derek’s death. It was only a matter of time before it got out that I was there. And if it turned out to be another murder …