by Cate Conte
He half shrugged. “Scotch?”
“Great. Coming right up.” I headed into the kitchen, seriously considering detouring to my room and hiding for the rest of the night.
Val followed me into the kitchen, nearly walking into me she was so close. “See? I told you it wasn’t over!” She squealed, clapped her hands gleefully. “It’s like we conjured him up! Isn’t it great? What an awesome Christmas gift!” She shook my arm, trying to elicit a response from me. I resisted the urge to slug her. Last year, if faced with this same scenario, she would’ve thrown him out herself. Amazing what a little romance could do for the coldhearted.
“Conjured who up?” my mother inquired, looking up from her green bean casserole.
“Lucas,” Val chirped when it became clear I wasn’t going to answer. “He’s here!”
My mother’s head snapped up. “Really! How lovely.” She looked at me anxiously. “Isn’t it lovely?”
“It’s grand,” I snapped, grabbing the scotch.
“Hmm. I should go say hello.” My mother dropped her spoon and swept out of the room, her long red velvet skirt sweeping the floor behind her.
Ethan turned from the stove, assessing me with those knowing eyes. “Mads? You okay?”
Thank God, someone sane. “No! What am I supposed to say to him when I haven’t spoken to him in a month and Grandpa just invited him to Christmas Eve dinner?”
“Ouch.” Ethan winced. “Do you want me to do something?”
“No.” I plucked a glass off the rack and poured. “I’ll handle it.”
“Did he say where he was?” Ethan asked.
“He didn’t have a chance. I’d barely opened the door and Grandpa popped up over my shoulder, inviting him in.”
“He’s staying for dinner? Before you’ve even talked?” Ethan asked.
Val opened her mouth to butt in, but Ethan shot her a look. Clearly, he’d learned from our longstanding business relationship how to handle me and my issues better than my sister had.
“No idea. I guess we’ll find out.” I tried for a smile that came out like a grimace, then headed back to the living room with the glass of scotch. My hand shook so much I was surprised I didn’t spill it on the way.
Lucas had moved to the couch—likely my father’s doing—and was pretending to be engaged in whatever conversation they were having while Craig gave him the side-eye. Cass was talking to Craig, trying to keep him occupied, I assumed. I could tell Lucas was totally uncomfortable. I walked over and shoved the glass at him, then turned to walk away.
“Maddie.” Lucas rose from the couch, glancing apologetically at my dad, and ushered me to the corner of the room out of earshot of the little crowd. “Can I just talk to you for a minute?” He asked in a low voice. “I’m not going to stay.”
“Probably a good idea if you don’t.” I crossed my arms and waited.
“Can we go somewhere quiet?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to protest and he cut me off. “Please, Maddie. I know you’re trying to spend time with your family and it’s Christmas and you’re probably pretty angry at me—”
“Angry? Why would I be angry?” I crossed my arms and stared at him. “We weren’t, like, together or anything, right? So why would I be mad?”
He winced. “That’s not true. We were. Are.”
“No, we’re not. And you have a funny way of showing it.… Five minutes.” I turned on my heel and led him down the hall to the cat café area. He followed, and I waited until he stepped inside before closing the door behind us. The cats that didn’t want to be out at the party were lounging in here. They’d all gotten new beds for Christmas—fluffy, stress-reducing beds. Gifts from Leopard Man, their other primary benefactor.
Lucas looked around, forgetting for a moment that we weren’t having a friendly conversation. “Wow. The place looks great. Is it done?”
“Mostly. We’re in the process of redoing the garage now. Ethan is getting his separate café space.” I wanted to tell him more. I wanted to share all the adventures with the contractors over the past month, like the time two of the cats had gotten into the giant vents they’d put in for the new heating system and we’d all almost had a heart attack until they walked right out again like nothing had happened, but then I remembered that it didn’t matter. He probably didn’t want to hear my dumb stories anyway. Silence usually meant one thing—that someone was done with you. And even if they had a momentary lapse of conscience and came back around, it has highly likely they’d do the same thing again. I wasn’t about to give him that chance. “So what did you want to talk about?”
He took a breath. “I wanted to explain. And I wanted to give this to you.” He handed me the bag. Reluctantly, I took it but didn’t open it. “Maddie. I’m so sorry I was out of touch. Trust me, I didn’t want to be, but things got a little out of control.”
“Out of control? Like what, a party gets out of control? What does that even mean? A house fell on you? Someone kidnapped you? There was no cell service in … wherever you ended up? Come on, Lucas.” I stalked the room, then turned back to face him. “Were you sick? In a hospital?”
He shook his head.
“Well, that would’ve been one of the only reasonable explanations. Look. I felt like things were on a good path. If I was wrong, I wish you would’ve just told me, but I didn’t get there by myself.”
“You weren’t wrong. We were—are—on a good path. That’s why I want to explain.” Lucas stepped forward, his expression earnest, and reached for my hand. “Maddie. Please. It’s kind of a long story, but I think you’d—”
“Maddie!” The door flew open and Val rushed in, looking stressed. “Sorry,” she said, skidding to a stop. “I really hate to interrupt. But there’s kind of an emergency. Grandpa just got a call from the Turtle Point police.”
I immediately went on alert. “What happened?” Please don’t let anyone else be dead.
“It was a courtesy call. Because they know him. But they made an arrest in the Proust case.”
Lucas looked from Val to me. “What’s the Proust case?”
“Someone got killed,” I said impatiently, brushing him off, then turned back to Val. “Who did they arrest?”
She hesitated, nervously tugging on her left index finger with her right hand. “Katrina.”
Chapter 16
Thursday, December 24, Christmas Eve: two days after the murder
9:10 p.m.
Christmas Eve came to a screeching halt. Lucas and I completely forgot about our conversation. Once the shock wore off enough that I could actually move my legs again, I rushed out to Grandpa. He was still on the phone. Becky, who can sniff out a story better than a bloodhound can track a scent, was blatantly eavesdropping on the conversation.
I went up to him and tugged at his arm, like I used to do when I was five and needed his attention. He held up a finger.
“Can you get down there right away?” he was saying. “I’ll cover the cost. Fine. Thank you.” He hung up and looked at me. “Doll. Take a breath.”
“What happened? Are they crazy? They can’t arrest Katrina!” I thought for a panicked moment that I couldn’t actually breathe, then forced myself to take a few slow, deep breaths. Between this and Lucas, this night wasn’t really shaping up to be what I’d expected for my first real Christmas home in a decade.
“Come on. Let’s go down there and find out what’s going on,” he said, putting his arm around me. “I asked Jack Gaffney to represent her.”
Jack Gaffney was one of Grandpa’s old friends and a hardcore defense attorney. He was basically retired now and had moved back to the island, but he still took on special cases. He was good. I was glad to hear this, anyway. And thankful for my grandpa’s generosity. There was no way Katrina could afford a lawyer like that on her salary.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”
“Sophie!” he hollered in the direction of the kitchen. “We’ll have to delay dinner. Maddie and I have to run an e
rrand.”
Craig stood. “I’m coming too.” He glanced at Jade, clearly hoping she wouldn’t mind.
“Go,” she said, motioning toward the door. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
“Can I come?” Becky asked.
“Rebecca!” Donna Walsh wagged a finger at her daughter. “It’s Christmas, for heaven’s sake.”
Becky ignored her mother and fixed an imploring gaze on me.
“Katrina will freak out. Are you going to report this?” I asked.
She looked grim. “If it’s official I’ll have to.”
I looked at Grandpa. He nodded. “She should come. Talk to the cops in person. Let’s go.”
“But why would they arrest her?” I asked Grandpa as he led me over to the door and handed me my coat.
“I don’t know, doll. They have evidence, they said. Grab your shoes.”
I barely noticed that Lucas had returned to the living room. As I pulled my shoes on and Grandpa hustled me and Becky out the door, it occurred to me I should’ve said something to him. But the moment had passed. We had to go. I wished I could bring Cass, but four of us descending on the police station was already a lot of people.
We piled into Craig’s car, Grandpa in the passenger seat and me and Becky in the back. Craig glanced at Grandpa. “What’s the address again?”
Grandpa rattled it off as I sank into my seat, trying to separate all the thoughts swirling in my head. Lucas had been about to give me an explanation about his vanishing act. One of my best friends had been arrested. Craig had brought Jade to my house for Christmas.
Really, Universe?
“So what happened?” Craig asked when we were almost through town.
“Not sure yet,” Grandpa said. “Dunn told me they had ‘overwhelming evidence’ that Katrina had been involved in Virgil Proust’s death.”
I leaned forward. “Overwhelming evidence? What does that mean?”
“Not sure,” Grandpa said. “He didn’t elaborate.”
Becky was on her phone already. I didn’t want her to print this story. Then again it wasn’t Becky’s fault Katrina had been arrested. She hung up and glanced at me, reading my mind. “It’s just the facts, Maddie. But the more publicity, the more chance we have to flesh out the real killer. Right?”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. “Right,” I said.
She reached over and squeezed my hand. None of us spoke for the rest of the drive. There wasn’t much to say until we heard the whole story. I was stressed, though. What on earth was going on? Why would they arrest Katrina? She hadn’t even been in that neighborhood for the last week or two.
Or had she? I remembered pulling onto Sea Spray that fateful night and thinking I’d seen Katrina’s car speeding in the other direction. Of course I’d been wrong.
Hadn’t I?
The Turtle Point Police Department was quiet tonight. It was also festive, with lights strung up around the outside of the building. Grandpa humphed from the backseat when he saw that. “They always had to be showier than the rest of us,” he muttered.
Craig hid a smile at that. “I heard there was always a bit of a competition going between him and Chief Dunn,” he said in a low voice to me.
“Just because I’m retired doesn’t mean I’m deaf,” Grandpa said.
“Sorry, Chief.” Craig pulled into a parking space near the front of the building.
Grandpa scanned the parking lot. “I don’t see Jack’s car,” he said.
“Well, they can’t question her until he gets here, right?” I asked.
“Depends on if she’s agreed to answer their questions or not. Let’s go.” He shoved open his door and got out. Craig and I scrambled to keep up with him as he strode to the front door.
We burst into the building behind Grandpa, who went right up to the desk. “Officer. I’m former Daybreak Harbor Chief Leo Mancini. You’re holding a woman, Katrina Denning?” He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. “Is her attorney present yet?”
I loved these glimpses of Grandpa as a formidable law enforcement officer. Like most kids, I’d taken for granted his career and his stories when I was younger, and then being gone for the last ten years hadn’t helped. Now I found myself craving his tales from life in the PD, from the days when he was a beat cop all the way up through the ranks to leading the department. And when I got to see him back in action, it was all the better. He was only seventy-four and I knew that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon if he had something to say about it, but I also knew that life could be short. I wanted to grab and hold on to all the moments I could.
But right now, I had a friend in a jail cell, so I couldn’t get all mushy. The officer jumped out of his seat. He started to salute Grandpa—a dead giveaway of former military—then remembered where he was. “I’ll find out right away, sir,” he said, and disappeared down the hallway.
Craig and I sat in the waiting area. I looked around. It was definitely more festive than I ever remembered the Daybreak Harbor PD being. They even had some Christmas decos up for the poor rookies who had to work the holiday shifts. Grandpa was totally judging, I could tell.
We sat there for what seemed like an hour until the door to the inner sanctum opened and a silver-haired man came out. Grandpa grinned when he saw him. “Jack! You must’ve gotten a new car. I didn’t see yours out there.”
“Oh, I got a few new ones since the last time I saw you,” Jack Gaffney said with a wink. He and Grandpa did the man-hug/pat-on-the-back thing for a moment or two, then he looked around. “They with you?”
Grandpa nodded. “My granddaughter Maddie. She’s friends with Katrina. Becky Walsh, Daybreak Island Chronicle editor. And Craig Tomlin. With the Daybreak Harbor department.”
“Chronicle?” Jack asked incredulously. “You serious?”
“She’s doing her job,” Grandpa said.
Jack tilted his head toward the door, indicating we should follow him outside. Becky said she was going to stay to try to get a statement from the department.
Once we got outside, Grandpa said, “So what’s the story?”
“The usual,” Jack said. “They have enough evidence to make the arrest. I told her to stay quiet no matter what they say. She likes to talk though. Protest, actually.”
“Because she didn’t do it,” I broke in.
Jack regarded me curiously. “That’s not my concern, whether she did or didn’t. I just need to keep her out of jail.” He looked back at Grandpa. “The part that’s … troubling for her is there won’t be arraignments until after the holiday. So unfortunately she’s stuck here.”
“She’s got to spend Christmas in jail? Are you kidding me? Grandpa, there’s got to be something we can do!”
He looked grim. “I’m afraid not, doll. She can’t post bail until it’s set.”
I looked at Craig, who also looked grim at this news, but he didn’t speak.
Clearly they weren’t coming up with any solutions. “So we have to convince them they have the wrong person, then. Grandpa. Can’t you talk to the chief? He has to listen to you. Professional courtesy and all that. Right?” I was grasping, and even as I said the words I knew it wouldn’t fly. Grandpa would’ve bristled at someone else coming in and telling him how to run an investigation when he was in charge, and so he certainly wouldn’t want to do that himself.
Grandpa shook his head. “He wouldn’t have to listen to me even if I were still the Daybreak chief—which I’m not. I can go talk to him, see if he’s receptive at all, but it’s highly unlikely. They have to have something to have arrested her in the first place.”
“What could they possibly have?” I asked, incredulous. “Grandpa. You’ve known Katrina as long as I have. She used to babysit me, for goodness’ sake. She’s not a killer.”
“Maddie. I agree with you,” Grandpa said. “But there’s nothing we can do.”
“Can we at least see her?” I asked. My voice cracked. I hated this. My friend was a good person who was trying to he
lp a bunch of poor, outdoor cats. And suddenly she was arrested for murder? It smelled bad to me. The cops were biased against her—clearly they were going to pander to the rich people in their town who paid their salary rather than the outsider who no one wanted here in the first place.
“We can ask,” Jack said, doubtfully. “I’m not sure they’ll let anyone but me see her. Maybe your grandfather.”
“Well, let’s go find out,” I said, swallowing my tears and marching back to the door. I yanked it open and waited for them all to file inside, then brought up the rear of our little parade.
Jack approached the cop behind the desk again, who was taking a stern stance with Becky. “You’re going to have to wait for the press release,” he kept saying. I could tell she wanted to reach through the little hole and poke him in the eye.
Finally she stepped aside and Jack spoke. The cop looked hesitant, but he picked up the phone and said something. A minute later, the door opened and another cop came out. Jack and Grandpa went over to him. They spoke in low tones. Craig and I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Craig sensed my frustration and reached over to squeeze my hand. I glanced down at my hand in his, then up at him. He quickly let it go.
Grandpa looked over his shoulder at me and shook his head, then he and Jack vanished into the inner sanctum behind the other cop.
“Great,” I said, throwing up my hands. “I can’t even see her and she has to spend Christmas in here? What is going on, Craig?”
“I don’t know, Mads,” he said. “But…”
“But what?” I glared at him.
“But cops don’t go around arresting people just for the heck of it. Good cops, anyway.”
“Well, who said they were good cops?” I shot back.
The cop behind the glass looked up and glared at me. I guess bulletproof didn’t mean soundproof.
“I can’t believe they won’t even give me the official statement,” Becky said. “I have to literally take it from the call log.” She looked miffed and wandered away to call someone else, probably her web editor.