Jeopardy in January

by Camilla Chafer

  Angela took a sip then set her cup down. "Not really. Mostly because Brittany was always making bad choices and I couldn't bail her out anymore. I heard she was hiding out here," she said, looking around as if Bree might jump out from the trees anytime.

  "You must have spoken to Detective Logan," I surmised. "He told me she was wanted by the police."

  Angela sighed heavily, apparently her go-to reaction when talking about her sister. "He told me she stole something and hid it. Jewels. It's just so appalling. He said Brittany was involved in stealing them, and must have been in some kind of gang. I should have tried harder," she sniffled again, her face crumpling as she reached into her purse and pulled out a small pack of tissues.

  I reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze. "You mustn't blame yourself. Bree was old enough to make her own decisions, including bad ones."

  "I know that's true. It's just hard to reconcile the sweet, little girl I grew up with to the woman she became."

  "It must be very hard," I mumbled, unsure of what else to say.

  "I hate to think that she brought so much trouble to this beautiful town."

  "Most of the residents are a little shocked. It's not exactly the kind of place where—" I stopped before the word criminal spilt from my lips.

  "It's okay. We don't have to pretend. Brittany was a criminal. I understand you were her closest friend?" she said.

  I nodded. "I thought we were but now I have to question everything I thought I knew."

  "That's natural. Sara, I just can't help thinking she might have used you while she was here. I know, I know—" Holding her hands up as if she were pleading with me to hear her out, she continued, "—It's not a pleasant thought but I can't help thinking she could have used you to hide the jewels, in which case, you could be in serious danger. Forgive me for saying so."

  "You're not the first to think that. Someone already dug up the library gardens."

  Angela's hand flew to her mouth. "That's awful! Do you think they found anything?"

  "No, I think they were scared off. I doubt Bree would have hidden them there anyway. The ground would have been too hard since she arrived in Calendar. Not exactly favorable for digging and hiding treasure," I explained.

  "No, I guess not. Maybe she hid them somewhere in her apartment."

  "Could be, but I think Detective Logan turned the apartment inside-out more than once."

  "He does sound like a very thorough man."

  "He's very good but we don't get a lot of crime here. I'm sure Detective Logan is as shocked as the rest of us."

  "I'm sure. He must have searched the library too and anywhere else Brittany liked to frequent."

  "He probably searched the library when I found Bree," I decided, "but he wouldn't have known he was looking for a something then, just someone."

  "That's interesting. I heard a rumor that the library was to be sold. Is that true?"

  "Unfortunately, it might be. I've been campaigning to save it, along with other residents here, but I dare not predict the outcome. If we don't succeed, the library will be torn down and replaced with houses."

  Angela shook her head sadly. "And all traces of Brittany will be gone. Where else did Brittany like to go around town? I'd like to see her frequent haunts, like I'm retracing her footsteps. Is that strange?"

  "No, I think it's nice but I'm not sure how helpful I can be. She spent a lot of her time at the library and since it was winter, the rest of her time at her apartment. We had lunch at the Coffee Corner Café a few times, and I know she liked the candy store. I guess she visited some of the other shops. I'll write their names for you." Jotting down the names on the notepad I carried in my purse, I passed them to Angela. As I did, I thought of something else. "Someone mentioned seeing her out by the Bayview Drive housing development, which is just outside town. You must have driven past it on your way here. I can't imagine what she was doing there though."

  Angela frowned. "Me neither. She never mentioned any desire to buy a house and never showed any interest in construction."

  "It's probably nothing. Maybe she took a wrong turn."

  "Probably," agreed Angela.

  I checked my watch, seeing my lunch break was almost over although I still hadn't eaten. Fortunately, I brought a packed lunch to the library. I really didn't want to sit at my desk eating it while more patrons wandered in. It didn't seem professional. "I have to go, "I told her, trying to sound as apologetic as I felt, "but I hope I was helpful."

  "You were," she assured me. She got up and hugged me quickly. "Thank you so much for taking the time to meet me."

  "Call me if you need anything else. Anything at all. I'd like to send flowers to Bree's funeral, if that's okay with you? Regardless of what she did, I will always consider her a friend and I'm sad she's gone."

  I left Angela at Mountain View and drove back to the library. After a ten-minute lunch, most of which was spent musing on how disappointed Bree's sister looked during our conversation. I unlocked the library doors again.

  A steady stream of traffic continued throughout the afternoon and I added a lot more signatures to my petition. I answered even more questions about Bree and tried not to bristle at the collective morbid curiosity of some people. They felt compelled to leave their homes just to view a "real, live crime scene" as more than one eager spectator put it. By the time I'd ushered out the last of the lingering gawkers, I was glad to close the door. Instead of relaxing like I sometimes did or perusing the books or setting up for the next event, I grabbed my coat and purse. With my keys ready in my hand, I quickly locked up, hurrying to my car.

  Instead of turning for home, I realized I was pointing the car towards the housing development. The idea of Bree going there kept niggling me all day. The more I thought about it, the more I decided I was wrong about Bree taking a wrong turn or ending up there by accident. My mom said Bree was looking around. Since Meredith overheard a conversation that she wasn't planning on staying in town, Bree had to be there for another reason.

  The only reason I could think of for Bree to be prowling at a half-built housing development was to hide something.

  The rain had let up by the time I turned onto Bayview Drive, following the curve of the road until I reached the show home. It was currently the only completed house in the development. Lights shone throughout the house and a smart Lexus was parked in the driveway. Probably the realtor's, I decided, or a very nice suggestion from the developers.

  I parked at the curb under the streetlamp, after noticing the dark night rolling in, and grabbed my purse, hurrying into the house. I knocked and a middle-aged woman in a gray pantsuit came to the door. "I normally leave the door open in a show home," she explained as she ushered me inside, "but it's just too cold. I’m Gwendolyn Cooper, the realtor. Are you looking to buy?"

  I hesitated, then decided to play along. "Maybe. A friend of mine came by recently and told me how nice this house was. She made me promise to come by and take a look; and I can see already that she was right!"

  "Wait until you see the rest of the house! There's an eat-in kitchen with a pantry and mud room leading to the yard. A living room and formal dining room plus, a small study." She reeled off a sales patter that she'd clearly relayed a hundred times before. I nodded, following her as she took off for the living room. The house was lovely. Someone had cleverly staged it as a family home, the type I normally only glimpsed in magazines. It was nicely appointed with all manner of smart technology and appliances.

  "Do you have a family? Children?" Gwendolyn asked, glancing over her shoulder as we left the kitchen. We were heading for the stairs in the entry.

  "No," I said.

  "Oh, you're just starting a family?" she decided. "Then you will love the nursery upstairs. This is a house where you can start a family and not worry about the future need to move. Many of our families call our homes their forever homes. Your friend probably told you all about it already."

  "Yes, she did," I said, seizing on
that. "Perhaps you remember her? Brown hair to about here, curvy, and a little shorter than me?"

  "Oh, yes, I think I do remember her. She was looking for a place to live after she got married," she said. "Lovely young lady. Britt, wasn't it?"

  Britt had to be short for Brittany. Another alias. "That's her," I said.

  "She was interested in several of our lots. If you buy off plan, you can pick your choice of fixtures and finishes from our catalogue and customize many other details too."

  "Was that what Britt wanted?"

  "We briefly discussed it but she was mostly interested in how long it would take until the development was built. I told her our first homes would be available in six months and the rest by the end of the year. It's understandable really. A lot of people don't want to live on a construction site, or feel really alone at night being surrounded by vacant lots. Wouldn't it be great if you both moved here together? You could even get adjoining lots!"

  "Mmm," I murmured, knowing that would never happen. Suddenly, I wondered if Bree ever considered hiding her jewels here, since the development would have remained empty for some time. If she planned on a quick departure, she could have easily gotten access to them, or even grabbed them as she left town. "Apart from the show home, are there any other houses that are finished?"

  "There's four more on this street, but they're essentially no more than shells. Being of the same layout as this one, what you see here is achievable there. Three have already sold but the fourth is still available."

  "Has this house sold yet?" I asked.

  "No, not yet and it isn't available for sale either. The owners of the development need to use it as a show home. However, if you're interested, I can add your name to the list? I'm sure you'll get a great deal on all the furniture too if you want it. This is the master bedroom," she said as we stepped into a beautiful room and her attention reverted to square footage, closets, and “magnificent views.”

  By the time we returned downstairs, another couple had entered and the saleswoman greeted them by name. I guessed it wasn't their first visit. After saying my goodbyes, I took a brochure and assured Gwendolyn that the house was better than great and I would think seriously about it. As I walked back to my car, I turned and looked around the street. She told me the other almost finished homes were on the same street. Since I had the rare opportunity to see them a little further along, I would because they all stood in a row.

  As I stared at them, I wondered which one Bree would have chosen for a hiding place. Without realizing it, I started to walk towards them, stepping onto the road since the sidewalks hadn't yet been installed. In no time, I was outside the first one. The doors and windows were recently installed and I walked up to it. I tested the handle and found it locked. A path was created although there wasn't any other landscaping. I followed it around to the back and tested the kitchen door. Also locked.

  The moon dipped behind a large cloud, casting the yard into darkness. I shivered, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I was and alone. I scrabbled in my purse for my key ring and pulled it out, pressing the button on the little flashlight that was attached to the fob. A small beam danced on the ground, just enough to illuminate where I walked. The last thing I needed was a sprained ankle. Back on the road, I looked again at the other three houses. A car was parked by the furthest house, and the tail end was barely peeking out. I decided it was probably one of the builders and dismissed it.

  Something wasn't right in my thinking but I ignored it.

  I thought about the locked doors and decided they probably weren't a problem to Bree. I had no idea what criminal activities she might’ve mastered but I figured picking a lock was probably a pretty basic one. Plus, if she were planning to run out of town, she probably wouldn't have cared if she had to smash her way into the house to retrieve her haul. Except, how could she be sure that the houses would still be empty? Plus, if the houses still had to be fitted out, how could she be sure that the builders wouldn't stumble across her loot?

  It was obvious to me: she couldn't have been sure.

  I looked over to the show home and almost laughed. Here I was looking for Bree's treasure when I'd been so cross about other people doing exactly that! Except I was curious about Bree's movements more than what she hid. As I stepped forwards, I noticed two more cars were parked behind mine. The couple I'd already seen were leaving. They were smiling and shaking hands before walking to their car. They climbed in and made a U-turn. The realtor waited for them to drive off before closing the door, turning to speak to someone inside.

  That was it!

  That's what I missed.

  There was only one home on the entire lot that was guaranteed not to be tampered with any further, and I had just been inside it. If Bree wanted to hide her jewels, she could have easily done so inside the show home. All she had to do was hide the jewels inside an air vent, or a toilet cistern, anywhere really, since it was very doubtful that anyone would do anything further to the house or discover her haul by chance. She could walk back in there anytime she liked and retrieve them.

  I stepped forwards towards the path and stopped when I heard a tiny noise. A footfall was somewhere near me.

  I looked up, realizing that someone was trying the front door, just as I had minutes ago.

  "What..." I started to say but the figure rushed at me, fists raised.

  I screamed as the first blow knocked me to the damp floor.

  Chapter Nineteen

  "Sara?" The voice could have been a thousand miles away.

  Then it came again, this time repeating my name a little louder. "Sara?"

  "Uggh-nnn."

  "Sara, can you hear me?"

  "She's coming around," said another voice, a female one.

  "Sara? You're okay. I found you."

  I recognized the voice. Clinging to the sound, I blinked slowly, forcing my eyes open. I was cradled in someone's lap and a gentle hand stroked my hair. I blinked again and found myself looking into a pair of very concerned blue eyes. "Jason?" I whispered as my jaw began to tremble. Someone had hit me! A shiver spread through my body and I realized how brutally cold it was lying on the wet ground. I struggled to force myself upwards but I needn't have fought because the arms around me readily helped.

  "I'm not sure you should be standing," said Jason as I scrambled to get onto my feet. The world spun and I blinked, sinking gratefully against Jason.

  "The police will be here any minute," said the other voice I heard. The realtor. What was she doing out here?

  No, the more important question was: what was Jason doing here?

  "Are you okay? What happened?" Gwendolyn asked, concern lacing her voice. "I heard someone scream and when Jason and I rushed outside, we saw someone running away."

  "That's when we found you," added Jason. "Did someone hurt you?"

  "I saw someone trying the door handle," I told them. I reached my hand to my head, relieved to find I wasn't bleeding although I fully expected to see a colorful bruise in the morning. "I think I surprised them and they rushed me and knocked me down."

  "Them?"

  "He," I clarified as my head began to throb, "Or she. I'm not sure. It happened so quickly. I screamed and they hit me. I must have been knocked out or passed out when I hit the floor."

  Gwendolyn gasped and Jason tightened his arm around me. "Trouble seems to follow you around," he said softly but not at all accusingly. I was saved from giving him a tart answer by the blare of a police siren getting closer. Then a car screeched to a stop and multiple doors slammed.

  "Detective Logan," called Jason. He lifted one hand in a wave.

  "What the hell happened?" yelled Detective Logan as he crossed the lot, the beam from his flashlight dancing on the ground. "I got a call saying a woman had been attacked."

  I raised a hand weakly. "That would be me."

  "Someone was trying to break into one of the houses," the realtor told him, "I don't know why. I'm Gwendolyn Cooper, the realtor. There's noth
ing in there. This poor lady saw him and he hit her."

  "He? You got a look at him?" Detective Logan squinted at me. I recoiled as the flashlight shone on my face.

  I shook my head. "It was too dark and too unexpected."

  "Why were you two out here?" he asked, dropping the light.

  "I came to see the show home," I told him. "I heard it was really nice and I thought I would take a short walk before driving home."

  "A short walk?" Detective Logan gave me a skeptical look. "In the dark? On a construction site?"

  "I didn't say it was a good idea!" I muttered.

  "Are you hurt?"

  "No, I don't think so. My head hurts a little but I'll be okay."

  Detective Logan turned his attention to Jason. "Did you see the person?"

  "No."

  "Were you two taking a walk together?"

  "No!" we both chorused at the same time.

  "Uh-huh," said Detective Logan slowly, clearly and unconvinced. "Sara, I think we should get your head looked at, just to be sure."

  "I'm okay, really," I assured him.

  He assessed me for a long moment before nodding. "At least come down to the station. The new recruit used to be an EMT and he can give you a swift check-up. Plus, I have a slightly ulterior motive. I'd like you to take a look at some photos."

  The suggestion of photos lured me in without protest, just like I was sure Detective Logan knew it would, and I instantly agreed. Plus, if I were being honest too, having an EMT check my head and confirm it was nothing would give me some much-needed peace of mind.

  "I'll follow you there," I told him.

  "No way," said Jason and Detective Logan at the same time. They hesitated, looking at one another, then Logan took the lead.

  "I think it's better if you ride with me," he said.

  "I can follow in your car and pick up mine later," offered Jason.

  "Why don't I arrange for your car to be taken to your home?" suggested Gwendolyn. I saw her worried grimace as she wrung her hands. "I'm sure you shouldn't be driving later and it's the least I can do, especially after you were injured here. It's not any trouble."