"I . . . I . . ." Calvin seemed to have run out of words. He bowed his head, defeated. "You're right."
"Of course, I am. I have something that might interest you very much," Rachel replied. "I only want to know what it might be worth to you. I thought it would be best if we met a little out of the way."
"Shut up." Calvin looked furious. "I hate it when people don't tell it like it is. You're blackmailing me, aren't you? You called me here just because . . ." He squeezed his eyes shut and took short, sharp breaths. "This is sick! I hate this!"
"No, you're the one who's sick," Rachel said. "If you want to keep your little secret, you'll have to pay up."
Calvin's nostrils flared, and his fists clenched. "I could bash your skull in right now. I ought to."
Rachel took a step back, her heart hammering with fear. Calvin towered over her. He was nearly a foot taller. The wind howled once again and she fought hard to keep her voice cool. "You won't hurt me," she said. "Because if you do, you'll regret it."
"You're right." Calvin took a deep breath. "Hurting you won't help me. No matter how tempting it is. There's just one thing to do. I have to end this once and for all."
"That's right," Rachel said. "Now if you . . ."
Calvin put up a hand, stopping her. "Wait." Whipping out his phone, he dialed a number. Rachel stared at him, surprised.
"What are you doing?" she exclaimed.
"Ending this," Calvin said. His voice was icy cold.
The phone rang twice before a female voice answered. "Hello?"
"Melina? Is it you?"
"Of course it's me, you twit. Who else would answer my phone?" The voice came out, sharp.
"Of course," Calvin said. "How many years have I had to listen to that voice nagging me? How many years have I tolerated it while I heard that voice blatantly flirting with other men? How many years have you tortured me, Melina?"
"Calvin . . . how dare you . . . what's gotten into you?"
"I've had sense pounded into me," Calvin said. "There's a chit of a girl here who thinks she can blackmail me. She's wrong. I don't bow down to blackmail."
"Blackmail? Are you mad? Calvin . . ."
"Shut up, Melina. Listen to me. You've cheated on me for years. Well this time, I cheated on you. You hear that? I cheated on you. But it wasn't just physical, I was a loyal husband all these years for the sake of our daughters. But love swept me over. That's right. I'm in love with Dorothy Stickman. I can't hide it anymore. Nothing on earth is going to make me hide the most wonderful thing that's happened to me after the birth of our daughters. I want a divorce."
"You've gone mad!" The voice at the other end of the phone screeched. "You're crazy!"
"Crazy in love," Calvin said. "Something broke in me tonight, Melina. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. You've been a bad wife but even that doesn't justify cheating. I should have left you a long time ago. I deserved better. The kids deserved better. Dorothy definitely deserved better."
"You'll regret this! You'll hear from my lawyers! You'll . . ."
"You'll sign the papers quickly and give me a divorce fast," Calvin said. "Because otherwise, there's a lot of your secrets the town will hear about. You don't want that, do you?"
With that, Calvin hung up, and put the phone back in his pocket. He was smiling brightly as he looked back up at Rachel.
"Thank you," he said. "You're a lowlife, sniveling coward, and you showed me exactly what I didn't want to be."
"Wait, what just happened?" Rachel had a hand to her head, and was drawing circles on her forehead with a thumb. "What do you think I'm blackmailing you for?"
"Because you know about my affair with Dorothy, of course," Calvin said promptly. "What else could it be?"
"I . . .I . . ."
"I'm a free man now." Calvin smiled. "It was terrible having to sneak around and pretend I didn't love Dorothy when I did. I suppose the town knows about us anyway, but now I'm going to make it official."
"Con . . . congratulations." Rachel sighed. "And I'm sorry. I thought you were a different person entirely."
"What? Why were you blackmailing me?"
"Your wrist." Rachel sighed. "You have a scar on it. I saw it the night we first met. I thought . . . well, I thought it was from having a tattoo removed."
"You don't get scars from having tattoos removed, silly," Calvin said. "You just get slightly shiny skin. Ask Wilbur, I paid to have his tattoo removed."
Rachel felt her stomach drop. "Was . . . did Wilbur have the tattoo of a crab on his wrist when you first met?"
"He did." Calvin nodded. "How did you know?"
"I've been an idiot." Rachel slapped her forehead. "Scott. You can come out now," she whispered into the microphone hidden in her jacket.
From behind the trees, powerful flashlights went on. Scott and two of his deputies walked up to Rachel and Calvin, looking disappointed.
"Well, if that doesn't beat everything," Scott said.
"Scott? You—the sheriff of Swaddle, were trying to blackmail me?" Calvin looked red, and was slowly puffing up with fury. "I'll have your job—all of your jobs!"
"It's not what you think," Rachel said. "We thought you were the killer. We thought you murdered Stan Stickman because he knew a secret about your past. But it wasn't you. This whole time, it wasn't you. It was your assistant, Wilbur."
"Wilbur?" Calvin's eyes bugged out. "No. No way. Wilbur is a good man. Whatever you're accusing him of, you're wrong."
"Wilbur is a changed man." Rachel sighed. "Or at least, he was. It all makes sense now. Scott, we need to do this all over again. This time, we do it properly."
*****
Chapter 23
Reeling It In
Wilbur Kuhn looked the same as he always did as he stepped out of his car—tall, thin, and bald, with a shabby suit on—nondescript and bland. The kind of man who went easily unnoticed. Rachel watched him approach her and thought that they'd all made a mistake in underestimating him. After all, the first time they'd met, Calvin had called Wilbur the brain-wizard responsible for all his success. Beneath his meek exterior lay a whip-smart brain. There was nothing meek about him as he walked toward her now. His feet seemed to swallow up the earth as he strode toward her. His face was a blank mask, but his eyes were cold and glittered like frost.
"Rachel Rowan," Wilbur said, his voice mocking. "Why have you called me out here in the middle of the night?"
"To discuss business," Rachel said. "I figured we might as well discuss it somewhere you've done business before. After all, isn't this where you nearly killed Brandon?"
Wilbur only smiled, confessing to nothing. Smart.
"Why did you call me here? Have you lost your mind?" he asked.
"I've got something that's going to interest you very much," Rachel said. "Something you wanted desperately." She took the manuscript out of her jacket and waggled it in front of Wilbur. "Am I right?"
Wilbur's lips drew back into a snarl. "Where did you get that book?" His voice made him sound as though he were possessed. Rachel could smell his fear—and his hatred.
"Got it from Tristan," Rachel said. "Remember Tristan Shaw? You were talking to him at Stan's house after the funeral, weren't you? Easy for you to slip something into his drink. Tristan was a fool to try and blackmail you!"
"And yet you're doing the exact same thing," Wilbur said. "Why's that?"
"The bakery isn't doing so well, and I need money." Rachel said. "Unlike Tristan, I've taken precautions. I don't want to be killed by you the way he was—the way Stan was."
Wilbur still stayed silent. Rachel felt sweat start to bead down her back. Wilbur wasn't admitting to anything!
"I know everything," Rachel said. "So you might as well quit being so silent."
"You?" Wilbur snorted. "You're a fool who thinks just because she has a book, she can control me. Go ahead and sell that manuscript for all I care. See what good it does you."
"Oh, selling the manuscript won't do me any good, but it will do y
ou a lot of harm," Rachel said. "Won't it, Wilbur? Or should I say Kevin Johnson." Wilbur's fists clenched. He took a step closer. Rachel simultaneously took a step back.
"You . . . you and Cody killed Vincent Abraham when you were just teenagers," Rachel said. "Didn't you?"
Wilbur nodded. "Cody—Stan is the one who started it. Vincent was dating a girl that Stan liked, you see. Stan couldn't stand that. I just wanted to help him. We decided to beat some sense into Vincent, but it went too far. Neither of us meant to kill Vince. He just . . . died. It was an accident, but it completely messed up my life. My family disowned me. My friends hated me. I went from being a normal teenager to a convict overnight!" Wilbur wiped away a tear.
"That's right." Rachel nodded. "Moving to Swaddle was your salvation, wasn't it? Rebirth. Especially when you met Calvin Donaldson and he helped you turn over a new leaf. He saved you."
"That's right." Wilbur nodded. "I turned over a new leaf, and I swore I'd never take my life for granted again. I hid my past from the people I loved, but I worked on becoming the best man I could be."
"You must have been horrified when Stan moved back into Swaddle," Rachel said. "He did it just to torture you, you know. Dorothy said he moved back here to reconnect with old friends. Very specifically, you."
"I don't know how he found me." Wilbur sighed. "I'd taken such pains to stay hidden. I told him I never wanted to see him again, but Stan stuck on in town just to hassle me. Years and years he watched me from a distance, occasionally taunting me. But I didn't let that bother me. I just kept on living my life."
Rachel nodded. "Then Dorothy divorced Stan and began her affair with Calvin. He was furious, wasn't he?"
Wilbur nodded. "Tristan told me before he died. I didn't understand it properly then, but I do now. He said, 'Calvin Donaldson. Stan wanted . . .' Of course, I misunderstood. I thought Tristan was trying to say Calvin killed Stan. Far from it. Stan wanted Calvin dead. Isn't that right?"
Wilbur still stayed silent, but he nodded.
"The night of the party, you followed Stan home. Stan wanted you to kill Calvin. He blackmailed you, showed you the manuscript. You knew that if you didn't follow along, you'd end up having your secret revealed."
"That's right. But I'm loyal to Calvin. I could never hurt Calvin," Wilbur said. "So I killed Stan instead. I tried to make it look like a deranged fan had done it." Wilbur sighed. "I tried hunting for the manuscript. I even inserted myself into Dorothy's funeral preparations so that I'd have the space to look for it. But it was no use. Your Brandon got to it first."
"And you tried to kill Brandon."
"Yes. I thought I'd gotten rid of him and the manuscript both," Wilbur said. "But Tristan—that horrible man—he popped up out of nowhere, trying to get money out of me. He said he stole the manuscript from the hospital."
"So you poisoned him," Rachel said.
"I had no choice," Wilbur said. "I'm not an evil man, just a desperate one."
Rachel shook her head. "You don't see the evil inside you, Wilbur, but I do. If you'd only confessed to your sins, you might have been forgiven by the ones who love you. Instead, you chose to kill, over and over."
"I don't regret it," Wilbur said. There was an odd gleam in his eye. "There's a power to it, you know. A power I'd been thirsting for since the day I wrapped my hands around Vince's neck. I turned over a new leaf but that memory, that pure joy still rose like some sick desire in my mind every now and then."
"It's all over now," Rachel said.
Wilbur bowed his head. "Yes it is. You're not blackmailing me, are you? You were only trying to get a confession."
For the first time, Rachel stepped back, startled. "You knew?"
"I guessed." He held up his hands in surrender. "I've heard your reputation, remember? Sheriff's waiting in the shadows to arrest me, isn't he?"
"If you knew it was a trap, why confess?" Rachel asked.
"What's the point? You have the book. Stan pretty clearly indicts me. Plus I have no doubt the police will unseal old records and find out I'm Kevin." Wilbur sighed. "You're right about one thing, Rachel. Murder feels good, but not as good as confession. My soul feels lighter now. I may be going to prison, but I'm free. You hear that? I'm free."
*****
Chapter 24
Confessions
With all the excitement of eliciting a confession out of Wilbur, Rachel's fever only worsened. She ended up staying quite a few days in bed with both a cold and a bad fever. The howling wind had done her no good. Scott was pretty upset about the whole thing and tried to scold her, but Rachel thought that catching Wilbur was worth any amount of illness.
He was behind bars now, having made a full confession of his crimes. In town, rumors were painting Tristan as the hero who tried to stop Wilbur and was killed instead. Despite Tristan's flaws, Rachel felt glad that the town's final memories of him would be positive. If nothing else, his family would feel just the tiniest bit better about his death. When she could, she fueled those rumors herself. After all, in his own way, Tristan had been the one to help her crack the case.
Tricia Crane visited Rachel while she was still wrapped up in bed, and brought along a pitcher of murky-looking iced tea. Her hair was tied up in a topknot, and her clothes were as bohemian as ever. She was wearing a large pendant with the peace sign on it over a tie-dyed shirt and acid-washed jeans.
"I made it at home this time," Tricia said, shaking the pitcher of iced tea. "No more store bought stuff for me. I'm trying to become one of those sickeningly healthy home cooks."
"Sickeningly healthy, huh?" Rachel chuckled. "Stay away from me or you'll be sick and unhealthy."
"Oh, pfft. I'm around my nephews all the time; they strengthen my immune system. Kids do that, you know. They're like little warehouses of germs."
Rachel smiled. An awkward silence hung between them.
"Look, Rachel, I just came to say that you were right." Tricia said with a sigh. "I canceled that event. Profiting off a man's death just isn't me. I mean, maybe I'd make money that way, but do I really want to? I thought hard about it. If the store has to die, let it die an honorable death."
"Tricia . . ." Rachel felt tears prick at her eyes. "I was downright cruel to you that day. I shouldn't have been so harsh."
"You were right to be harsh," Tricia said. "I needed reminding that some things are more important than money. Not too many things are, mind you. but some things."
"I'm really sorry." Rachel gave her hand a squeeze. "I promise you'll figure it out somehow. You'll find a way to make the shop survive another fifty years."
"I'm sure I will." Tricia gave her a sad smile, her eyes telling Rachel that hope was dying fast.
Rachel opened her mouth to say something more, but Tricia cut her off. "Meanwhile, why don't you give me the recipe to that amazing pineapple cake you made me the other day? I'll consider us even."
*****
A few days later, Rachel was up on her feet again. Dorothy Stickman and Calvin Donaldson walked into her bakery one morning, hand in hand. Both had an almost teenaged glow of love around them. Rachel found it incredibly cute how Calvin couldn't take his eyes off Dorothy even while she was speaking to Rachel.
"We wanted to place an order," Dorothy said. "Do you bake 'Thank You' cakes?"
"Sure!" Rachel exclaimed. "They're very popular on Mother's Day and with students." She looked at Calvin, wondering if perhaps one of his daughters wanted to present it to a teacher. From what she'd heard around town, his divorce from Melina was going pretty smoothly and would soon be finalized. His daughters had taken it well. They'd known for a while that their parents weren't happy, and it had only made them miserable. At least now, the truth was out.
Rachel presented them with various options from a photo album of cakes that she'd created. Dorothy hemmed and hawed over each one, finally asking, "What do you think is the best cake?"
"Well, my favorite is the rose cake with colorful M&Ms," Rachel said. "It's kind of cute, but also c
lassy."
"Great." Dorothy paid her the money for one. "Could you have this delivered?"
"Yes." Rachel nodded. "What's the address?"
"This place." Dorothy tapped her foot.
Rachel stared at her, not understanding. "What?"
"You can title it ‘For Rachel,’ Calvin piped up.
"For . . . you're ordering a cake from me for me?" Rachel stared at them both as if they'd gone mad.
"Well, it's all thanks to you that I had the courage to divorce Melina." Calvin shrugged. "I don't know how many more years I would have wasted if you hadn't tried to blackmail me that night."
"I . . ." Rachel was speechless.
"Not to mention, I'd like to thank you for finding Stan's killer." Dorothy gave a little shudder. "I can't believe it was Wilbur. He was so unassuming."
"He fooled us all," Calvin said, his face hard. "I can't believe I ever trusted him."
"He was loyal to you," Rachel said. "Wilbur has . . . issues. But your kindness and trust made a difference to him, Calvin. If he's done any good in his life at all, you can take some measure of credit for it."
Calvin shook his head. "I just don't see it that way. I hope he stays in jail forever. It makes me sick that he thinks he was protecting me by killing Stan. I was capable of handling myself."
"He wasn't protecting you there, it was primarily selfish. It was his own secrets he was trying to protect." Rachel sighed.
"Whatever it is, I'm glad he's behind bars," Dorothy said. "I feel like blinders have been taken off my eyes. It's late in the day for me, but I'm done with secrets and brooding husbands. I want a clean-cut, honest man who will stand by my side till the end of my days, and thanks to you, Rachel, I have him."
Rachel smiled. "I'll accept the cake order only if you two agree to drop by and share it with me," she said.
"It's a deal." Calvin smiled.
*****
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