A Wrinkle in Thyme

by Sarah Fox

  Bentley stood beside the chair, his tail wagging as Brett stroked his curly fur.

  “Not really,” I replied.

  “Ray should be here any minute.”

  I knew why he’d mentioned that. It probably wouldn’t be good if Ray found me searching through the phone when he arrived. Although I’d likely have to admit to my snooping anyway, since I wanted him to have Jane’s passcode.

  Before giving up, I checked the call log on Jane’s phone. I remembered that she’d phoned Winnifred from her home’s landline shortly after eight on the night she died. I now knew that wasn’t the last call Jane had made before she was killed.

  At twenty-seven minutes after eight, Jane had phoned a number that had no contact information connected to it.

  I wanted to jot down the number Jane had called, but footsteps sounded out on the back porch, and Bentley shot out the door. I pushed the phone aside with the stylus as Ray, in his sheriff’s uniform, appeared with Bentley bouncing around him with excitement.

  I got up from my seat at the table. “If we’d had any idea that it was Jane’s phone, I never would have picked it up, and we would have called you right away.”

  Ray nodded, his serious gaze shifting from me to the phone sitting on the table. “I understand.” He looked to Brett. “You said you found it near where Tommy Park’s phone and wallet were located?”

  “Tommy told us where his things were found,” Brett said. “This phone was a little farther along the road.”

  “Closer to the highway,” I added.

  Ray produced a pen and a plastic evidence bag from his pocket. He nudged the phone with the pen until it slipped into the baggie.

  “And how do you know it’s the one Jane had in her possession?” Ray directed the question at me.

  “It’s the same model as mine, so I charged it and turned it on,” I said.

  “We were hoping to find a clue as to who it belonged to,” Brett chipped in.

  “I recognized the lock screen right away.” I pressed the power button through the evidence bag, and the phone lit up in Ray’s hand. “It’s the same Pride and Prejudice cover art as I saw on the phone Jane had.”

  “I see it’s passcode protected,” Ray observed before the screen went dark again.

  “Um. About that.” I wasn’t eager to confess the full extent of my snooping, even though I knew I had to.

  Ray heaved out a sigh. “Let me guess. You cracked the code.”

  Behind Ray, Brett was fighting a grin, but his uncle didn’t look amused. His serious expression hadn’t changed one bit since he’d arrived.

  “I did,” I said, unable to help feeling sheepish in the face of Ray’s steady gaze. “It’s 121775. The month and year of Jane Austen’s birth.”

  Ray stared me down until I was ready to squirm. “And I’m guessing your fingerprints are on it.”

  Brett came to my defense. “We tried not to leave any.”

  I pointed out the tissue and stylus lying on the table. “I picked it up with the tissue each time. I almost touched it when I first found it, but then we wondered if it could be related to the hit-and-run.”

  “We thought maybe the driver had robbed more people than just Tommy that night,” Brett explained.

  “So I made sure not to touch it directly. I used the stylus on the screen.” I winced. “I hope I didn’t wipe away any fingerprints that were already there.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough.” Ray didn’t sound angry, but he also didn’t sound impressed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “We really didn’t suspect that it could belong to Jane until we turned it on.”

  “I understand that,” he assured me. “But once you knew it was hers, you should have let it be.”

  “Fair enough,” I conceded.

  I wasn’t about to bring up the fact that I’d snooped through Jane’s photos, text messages, and call log. I didn’t think there was much point. Ray and his deputies would check out all those things themselves. Telling him what I’d done would only make him more annoyed with me, something I wanted to avoid.

  Ray glanced out the window, where the daylight was starting to fade. A few puffy clouds over the ocean were tinged with pink and orange.

  Ray held up the bagged phone. “Any chance one of you can show me exactly where you found this?”

  “I can,” I offered, eager to make up for my transgressions.

  “I’ll take Bentley for a short walk while you’re gone,” Brett said.

  I gave him a kiss and followed Ray out the back door. Brett held onto Bentley’s collar, keeping him from bounding after us.

  I caught a glimpse of the beautiful sunset in the western sky as we descended the porch steps, but then I jogged to catch up to Ray, whose brisk strides had already taken him around the corner of the house. We climbed into his cruiser and, within a couple of minutes, I pointed out the spot where I’d found Jane’s phone.

  “Did you ever find out why the phone wasn’t under Jane’s name?” I asked as Ray pulled over to the side of the road.

  “It turns out Jane had a foster brother growing up, and they’ve remained close as adults. According to her sister, Jane probably got the phone from the foster brother. He’s off backpacking in South America. We’re in the process of tracking down any phone numbers in his name, so we should know soon if the one you found is a match for any of his.”

  We got out of the cruiser so I could show him the exact bush that had concealed the device.

  “It’s close to where Tommy’s things were found, right?” I said as Ray surveyed the area.

  “The person who found them picked them up just around the bend.” He pointed back down the road toward the area Brett and I had searched first.

  “Don’t you think it’s an awfully big coincidence that Jane’s phone was found so close to Tommy’s?”

  “Sometimes coincidences are just coincidences…”

  “And sometimes they’re not?” I guessed at what he’d left unsaid.

  The only acknowledgment he gave me was a slight tip of his head to one side.

  As much as I wanted to interrogate him about his investigations, I decided not to push my luck. While we drove back down the road through the deepening darkness, I bit my tongue and forced myself to contain all the questions trying to bubble their way out of me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Saturday morning breakfast rush left me run off my feet and extra glad that I had more interviews lined up for potential new staff members. At least Logan was in the kitchen today, helping to lighten Ivan’s load. The first customers were waiting outside the door when I opened the pancake house at seven o’clock, and many more followed on their heels. I didn’t even have a chance to tell Sienna about finding Jane’s phone until midmorning, when the rush of hungry customers finally eased slightly.

  “It must have been Jane’s killer who tossed her phone in the bushes, right?” Sienna asked, after listening to my every word of the tale with bated breath.

  “It does seem most likely,” I said.

  We had to pause our conversation so Sienna could take orders and I could clean up a table that a group of four had vacated moments before.

  “And it’s just a coincidence that Jane’s phone was so close to where Tommy’s was found?” Sienna asked a moment later as we both headed to the kitchen. Her tone of voice told me she found that hard to believe.

  “I’ve been wrestling with that very question.” I lowered my voice to a whisper as we entered the kitchen. “But I don’t see how the two crimes could be connected.”

  Sienna dropped off the order slips she’d brought with her and then headed back out of the kitchen, but not before sending me a pointed look, silently telling me she wanted to continue our conversation.

  Ivan watched my every move as I loaded a stack of dirty dishes into the di
shwasher. I sent him an innocent smile on my way back out of the kitchen, but I doubted that I’d fooled him. He might not have been able to hear what Sienna and I had said, but I knew he suspected that we were talking about Jane’s murder.

  Sienna practically pounced on me when I emerged from the kitchen. “Maybe the killer was in a panic after murdering Jane and was driving too fast and hit Tommy.” She said all that in a whisper so no customers would overhear.

  “I considered that too.” The possibility had run through my head the night before, along with a few others, until I’d put an end to all speculation by losing myself in Sienna’s book. “But Tommy was hit west of the museum, and the driver was heading east.”

  She considered that. “And the driver would have been going the other way if they were fleeing the murder scene.”

  “Plus, the hit-and-run might have taken place later than the murder,” I added.

  “But we don’t know that for sure?”

  “No,” I confirmed. “I suppose it’s possible the driver who hit Tommy was in a rush to go kill Jane.”

  Sienna’s eyes widened. “That must be it!”

  We had to put an end to our conversation then as business had picked up again, and a steady stream of customers wanted to satisfy their hunger with some of Ivan’s delicious cooking. I wasn’t quite as convinced as Sienna that Jane’s killer was also the driver who’d struck Tommy. Even though I felt deep down that it wasn’t a coincidence that the two phones were found in the same area, I couldn’t make all the puzzle pieces snap together in my mind.

  What still troubled me was why the driver would have stopped and taken the time to steal Tommy’s possessions. Tommy hadn’t been able to identify the driver, but the culprit still put himself or herself at risk of being seen by stopping and getting out of the car rather than driving away immediately. If someone was on their way to commit a murder, why would they risk being seen heading in that direction? Of course, it was possible that the murderer didn’t plan to kill Jane. It could have been a spur of the moment reaction during an argument or disagreement. In fact, the choice of murder weapon made that seem more likely.

  I shook my head, trying to get all the questions and scenarios to settle in my mind so I could focus on work. I had some success with quieting my thoughts, thanks to the demands of the lunch rush, but the best distraction came a short while later when Richard Hobbs walked into The Flip Side.

  He picked up a days-old newspaper from the stand by the door and took it with him to a vacant table in the restaurant’s far corner. I wasn’t quite as surprised to see him at The Flip Side as I had been to see Evangeline dining here, but I still hadn’t expected him to show up for a meal. I figured he was much more used to fine dining, as was his wife.

  “Hi, Mr. Hobbs,” I greeted as I held up the coffee pot. “Coffee to start?”

  He nodded, so I filled his mug.

  “Is this your first time at The Flip Side?” I asked as I poured.

  “I thought I should try it out,” he said by way of reply. “My wife was here the other day and was surprised to find that the food was good despite the…quaint atmosphere.”

  It didn’t surprise me that Evangeline had said something like that. At least she’d admitted that the food was good.

  I handed Richard a laminated menu. “I’m glad she enjoyed her meal enough to mention it to you.”

  He studied the menu as he spoke. “My wife mentions everything to me. I get a blow-by-blow account of every conversation and every hour of every day.” He let out a weary sigh. “I came here for some peace and quiet as much as for some food.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I didn’t comment. “Should I give you a few minutes with the menu?” I asked instead.

  He assured me that he didn’t need more time and ordered the bacon cheddar waffles with sausages and hash browns.

  Not long after I delivered Richard’s waffles to him, Adya Banerjee came into The Flip Side with two other women. Leigh served the group, so I didn’t have any contact with Adya, but seeing her reminded me of her brief text exchange with Jane, and the time I found her in Jane’s office, ostensibly searching for her missing bracelet.

  As closing time drew nearer and the crowd of diners dwindled, I slipped into the office, where I’d left my phone. I sent a quick text message to Marjorie, asking if her friend’s granddaughter knew anything about a missing bracelet belonging to Adya. I wasn’t sure what kind of information I was fishing for, exactly, but I had some unanswered questions about Adya, and I was hoping to put at least one to rest.

  I left my phone on the desk and returned to the dining room.

  “I hung out with Tommy yesterday after school,” Sienna said after the last diner had gone.

  I flipped the sign on the door. “Did you beat him at Mario Kart again?”

  “My kids love that game,” Leigh said as she slipped past us on her way to deposit dirty dishes in the kitchen.

  “Me too,” Sienna said. “But we played other games this time. He beat me, but that’s only because the games were new to me. With a little practice, I can take him.”

  I smiled as I wiped down a table. “I have no doubt. I saw him at Wild West Days on Thursday night. I’m glad he was able to get out and about.”

  Sienna stacked dirty plates on one of the tables. “Except, he kind of overdid it.”

  I paused in my cleaning. “Is he okay?”

  “His ribs were bothering him. He figures he shouldn’t have spent so much time out at the park.”

  That wasn’t good.

  I decided I should check on him. “I’ll stop by his place after I finish up here. I’m sure I can find some food to take him.”

  “He’ll like that.” Sienna fetched her belongings from the breakroom. “Don’t forget to keep me up to date on your investigation.”

  “I might be too busy reading your book to investigate,” I said with a smile.

  “Somehow, I don’t think you could ever be too busy for sleuthing.” She flashed me a cheeky smile and disappeared out the front door.

  Leigh left a minute or two later, and I soon finished cleaning the dining area. I checked my phone and found a couple of responses from Marjorie. Her first message told me she would check with Desiree, her friend’s granddaughter, about the bracelet. About half an hour later, she’d messaged me again.

  Desiree says Adya kicked up a fuss about losing a silver bracelet a few weeks ago. She told some of her colleagues that she thought Jane might have stolen it. Is this significant?

  Maybe, I wrote back. I’ll let you know. Thanks for the info!

  No wonder Adya had been searching Jane’s desk. If Jane really had stolen the bracelet, as Adya believed, that was one logical place to look for it, and the museum was easier to access and search than Jane’s house. I realized I didn’t know where Jane lived. I hadn’t heard any rumors about her house being broken into. That didn’t mean Adya hadn’t been there, but if the police had responded to a break-in, the news probably would have spread through town.

  I wondered if Adya had an alibi for the time of Jane’s death. If Adya truly believed that Jane had stolen her bracelet—whether or not she was right—that strengthened Adya’s motive for murder. That perceived injustice combined with Jane’s promotion and her behavior at the staff meeting might have pushed Adya over the edge.

  I wasn’t sure how to go about finding out if Adya had an alibi. I didn’t know anyone close to her, so I figured I might have to strike up a conversation with her myself. Exactly how I’d go about getting the information I wanted, I didn’t yet know. That was something I’d have to think over. In the meantime, I wanted to check on Tommy.

  I stopped by the kitchen, where Ivan insisted on using some leftover batter to cook crêpes for Tommy. He made s’mores crêpes, one of Tommy’s favorite dishes. I also popped an apple cinnamon scone and a chocolate ch
ip muffin into a paper bag for him. The last two remaining chocolate chip muffins went into another bag for me and Brett to enjoy later.

  On my way out of the pancake house, I returned to the office to fetch my tote bag. My gaze landed on my phone, where it sat on the desk. I thought about the phone call Jane had made before her death. I’d wanted to copy down the number while I was looking at Jane’s phone, but Ray’s arrival had cut short my chance to do that. When I’d returned home from showing Ray where I’d found Jane’s phone, I’d scribbled the number down on a scrap of paper. At least, I hoped I’d written it down correctly. By that time, I wasn’t positive that I hadn’t muddled up the last couple of digits.

  I wanted to try calling the number to see who would answer, but I’d left the scrap piece of paper at home, and I couldn’t remember more than the first three digits off the top of my head. I’d have to try the number later, I decided as I pushed aside my disappointment. Tommy was first on my priority list. After I’d visited him, hopefully I’d have a chance to follow that line of investigation before I had to be at the museum for another round of volunteering.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  As I walked up the cement pathway to Tommy’s house, the door opened. At first, I thought that Tommy had seen me approaching and was coming to greet me, but then Evangeline emerged from the house. I stopped in my tracks, surprised. She paused on the porch to say something to Tommy, who was propped up on his crutches in the foyer, and then she turned and managed to descend the steps gracefully, despite her stiletto heels. If I’d worn shoes like hers, I’d have broken my ankle on flat ground. I could never have safely navigated a set of stairs. She made it look deceptively easy.

  “Hello,” she said in an airy voice as she passed by me.

  I returned the greeting and watched her go. She climbed into a black BMW parked by the curb and sped away a moment later.

  “She’s about the last person I would have expected to see here,” I said as I climbed the steps to the porch.

  “I know, right? But it was about the gala.” Tommy shoved the door shut and led the way to the living room. “She said she wanted to give me a bonus because of what happened on my way home. I told her it wasn’t necessary, but she insisted.” He used one of his crutches to point out a white envelope sitting on the coffee table. “Two hundred and fifty bucks!”