Killer Cables

by Reagan Davis

  “When she came back, she started working at her father’s veterinary clinic,” Connie says, taking back the story-telling baton from Mrs. Pearson, “and Brian had moved away to attend university.”

  “Brian and his wife, Anne-Marie, moved back to Harmony Lake about six months ago,” Mrs. Pearson explains, “to take care of his dad who died just about two months ago.”

  “And they decided to stay, now that Brian is retired,” Connie adds.

  Connie takes my hand and pulls me closer to her.

  “Anyway, the rumour fifty years ago, and it was just a rumour mind you, was that Brian and Laura were a couple, and she was ‘in trouble’,” Connie whispers, using air quotes around in trouble. “People said she left town to have the baby. Sadly, it was common back then for girls to be sent away to have their baby in secret. The baby would be adopted, and the girl would be expected to return home and resume her life as though it never happened.”

  The fact that she’s whispering even though the three of us are the only people in the store, tells me that this is still a sensitive topic.

  “We really have come a long way since then,” she adds, nodding.

  “Thank goodness it’s not like that anymore,” Mrs. Pearson agrees. “Since he’s been back in Harmony Lake, Brian and Laura seem to have mended their relationship. He even volunteers at the AC, where Laura spent most of her time.”

  Interesting indeed.

  “I haven’t met Mr. or Mrs. Sweeney,” I tell them. “It’s good he and Laura patched things up before she died.”

  “Megan!” Mrs. Pearson distracts me from my thoughts, “Have you ever met my son, Craig? He’s a doctor at Harmony Hills Hospital, and he’s single,” she wiggles her eyebrows and nods her head.

  Is she trying to set me up with her son? I look at Connie and she’s smiling at me and nodding.

  I hear the front door jingle. Saved by the bell!

  “Excuse me, ladies,” I say as I turn to greet the postal carrier.

  I’ve never been so happy to see a postal carrier and have a pile of bills handed to me.

  I think my enthusiasm for his arrival and my attempts to prolong our conversation as long as possible are making him a little uncomfortable. He keeps checking his watch and shifting his weight from one foot to the other while inching toward the door. The longer I talk with him, the longer Connie and Mrs. Pearson will have to talk about something else and forget about setting me up with her son, Craig the doctor.

  As soon as he gets himself within arm’s reach of the door, the postal carrier tells me he still has most of his route to finish, wishes me a good day, and leaves. But while we were talking, the remaining members of the alumni association showed up, so hopefully Mrs. Pearson and Connie will be too busy with alumni business to set me up with anyone.

  I put the mail on the counter and pull the letter opener from the cup of pens next to the cash register.

  As I open envelopes and separate the need-to-keep papers from the need-to-recycle papers, I have a flashback to standing on Laura’s porch yesterday and taking the mail out of her mailbox before Eric and I went inside.

  If the mail was delivered before Phillip dropped Laura off, he would have brought it in. For sure, he would have brought it in. That means the mail was delivered after Phillip dropped her off. If my instincts are correct (they haven’t misled me yet) and someone was at Laura’s house yesterday between Phillip leaving and Eric, Sophie, and me arriving, her postal carrier might have seen who was there.

  After lunch, Sophie and I go for our midday stroll, and I check the parking lot to see if Phillip’s van is there. It is.

  I walk to Artsy Tartsy to pick up some treats for Phillip and Glenda, with a plan to drop them off at his store on my way back, as an excuse to check in and see how they’re doing.

  I choose an assortment of cookies, mini cupcakes, and tarts. As I’m leaving, Tamara slips me a bag of dog treats for Sophie to taste test. I peek inside the bag to see the shape she chose for this batch: bones. Two different sizes of bone-shaped cookies, and they smell good. Pet food rarely smells good to me, but the dog treats Tamara makes smell yummy. Sophie will love them.

  “Hi, Glenda,” I say, walking into Wilde Flowers and closing the door behind me.

  Wilde Flowers smells divine. I inhale deeply and a bouquet of floral aromas infiltrates every breath I inhale without overwhelming my sense of smell.

  “Hi, Megan.” She comes out from behind the counter. “Phillip is just in the giant fridge. He’ll be back in a moment.”

  Technically, it’s a walk-in florist cooler, not a fridge. I know this because when I’ve called it a fridge in the past, Phillip has corrected me and explained the difference between them. It's something about airflow and humidity. I’m sure if Phillip hears Glenda refer to his walk-in florist cooler as a fridge, he’ll correct her too.

  I walk up to the counter and say hi to Kevin, who is on the counter perched on top of a royal blue, velvet cushion with gold piping along the edges and gold tassels hanging from each corner. He sits at attention and stretches his neck to present me with his chin for scratching.

  “I was at a loose end, so I decided to come to work with Phillip and help out,” Glenda tells me.

  “Is Phillip keeping you busy?” I ask.

  “Not really”—she chuckles—“but I’m able to watch the store while he teaches Noah about florist things in the back room and the walk-in fridge.”

  “Well, I’m sure having you here is a comfort to him,” I say. “Part of me thought he might not come to work today.”

  “He talked about staying home today, but what can we do?” Glenda asks, shrugging. “The house is off-limits, and Laura hasn’t been released to the funeral home, so there’s nothing for us to do. At least at the shop we can keep busy.

  I nod.

  Phillip emerges from the cooler. I give him a gentle hug and ask him how he’s doing. He echoes Glenda’s sentiments about being at a loose end and needing work to keep busy and distract himself from Laura.

  “I brought some treats from the bakery.” I gesture to the white confectionery box on the counter. “I wasn’t sure what to get, so I picked a bit of everything.”

  Glenda goes to put the kettle on, and Phillip invites me to sit in his sitting room—a cozy nook within the store where he sits with brides and other clients to discuss their floral orders.

  The nook is set up with four plush, overstuffed chairs, a coffee table, and end tables. He carries Kevin’s cushion, with Kevin still perched on top of it, and places the cushion on his lap when he sits down.

  Glenda brings out a tea tray, and we drink tea and eat bakery treats.

  I remember the bag of dog cookies in my tote bag.

  “Can Kevin have a dog cookie?” I ask. “They’re from the bakery.”

  “The tennis ball ones?” Phillip asks.

  “These look like bones.”

  I pull the bag from my tote and hand it to him. He peeks inside.

  “Ooooh, Kevin hasn’t tried these yet,” Phillip says.

  He holds the open bag so Kevin can see and sniff the cookies.

  “Aww…now you have to give him one,” Glenda says. “How would you feel if we put the open bakery box under your nose and then didn’t give you one?”

  “She’s right,” I add.

  Phillip breaks one of the cookies in half and puts it on Kevin’s cushion. Kevin sniffs it suspiciously a few times before eating it.

  “He loves it!” Phillip declares.

  We hear the door open. Phillip stands up, puts Kevin and his cushion on the chair he was sitting in, and disappears around the corner.

  “Hello, Detective.” I hear Phillip say.

  “Please, call me Eric.”

  Phillip comes back around the corner with Eric behind him. Eric greets Glenda and me, and I ask him if he’d like a treat and gesture toward the confectionary box on the coffee table. He puts his hand up and shakes his head.

  “I assume you’re here
to speak with Phillip and Glenda,” I say, “so I’ll leave you to it. I should get back to the store, anyway.”

  I pick up the handles of my tote bag and stand up.

  “No, Megan. Please stay. I’m more comfortable with you here,” Philip says, gesturing for me to sit back down.

  By Harmony Lake standards, Eric is still new, and many locals are unsure around him.

  “Please sit down, Detective, I mean Eric,” Phillip says, now gesturing for Eric to take the fourth chair.

  Eric sits down and Glenda offers him tea. He declines. He extends a hand toward Kevin, who sniffs it, reluctantly at first, then lets Eric pet him.

  “I spoke with the coroner a little while ago, and he thinks Laura may have been poisoned.”

  Phillip, Glenda, and I let out a collective gasp.

  “Was Laura ever prescribed a heart medication called Digoxin?” Eric asks.

  Phillip and Glenda vigorously shake their heads in unison.

  “Laura didn’t have any heart problems,” Glenda says, looking at Phillip, “Did she?”

  “No,” Phillip says, “she definitely wasn’t taking any heart medication.”

  “The coroner is still doing tests,” Eric explains. “These are preliminary findings. Hopefully, we’ll know more over the next few days.”

  We stop talking and turn our heads toward the shop door when we hear it open.

  Henry Willows comes around the corner. He points at Glenda, then at Phillip.

  “Which one of you is inheriting Laura’s share of the land?” Mr. Willows demands.

  He’s referring to the land the AC is on. The land Mega Mart has offered to purchase. The land that Laura said she would sell to Mega Mart over her dead body.

  Neither Phillip nor Glenda answer him.

  “I’m here to make sure you do the right thing and sell that land to Mega Mart,” he bellows. He looks at Glenda and jabs his finger in her direction. “Glenda, I know if it’s you, you’ll do what’s right.” He looks at Phillip and jabs a finger in his direction. “But I’m not sure where you stand.”

  Mr. Willows’ approach is uncomfortably aggressive.

  Eric stands up and positions himself in front of Mr. Willows blocking his access to the sitting area, and to Phillip and Glenda. They’re standing nose to nose. Mr. Willows is a big man. He and Eric are the same height, and Mr. Willows has a thicker build. He moves his head to look past Eric at Phillip and Glenda.

  “The deadline is soon. The offer has to be signed before the deadline. The right decision has to be made!” He shouts, jabbing his index finger toward Phillip and Glenda.

  Eric takes Mr. Willows by the arm and escorts him out of Wilde Flowers. I follow them, lock the door behind them, and turn the sign on the door from OPEN to CLOSED. The two men are speaking on the sidewalk in front of Knitorious.

  Phillip and Glenda are both shaken.

  “If you two want to call it a day,” I suggest, “I’ll help Noah look after the store until it’s time to close.

  Phillip shakes his head.

  “Willows’ bark is worse than his bite. I’m not leaving my shop because of him.”

  “I’m staying with Phillip,” Glenda adds.

  “Glenda, why did Willows say he knows you’ll do the right thing?” Phillip asks. “Have you decided to sell your half of the land to Mega Mart? How would Willows know that?”

  “Mr. Willows phoned me about two weeks ago,” Glenda explains. “It’s public knowledge that I own half the property. Land title documents are a matter of public record.”

  “What did he say when he called you? Did he threaten you?” Phillip asks.

  “No, he was demanding, but he didn’t threaten me,” Glenda reassures him. “He wanted to know if I intend to sell my half of the land to Mega Mart. I told him we could use the money. I told him I want to sell my share. I didn’t say I was definitely selling my share.”

  “Did Aunt Laura know you wanted to sell?”

  “Yes,” she replies, nodding. “We discussed it. She knew we could use the money, and I knew she wanted to ensure the land is protected for the AC. We didn’t agree, but we weren’t fighting about it either.” Glenda adds, “The last time Laura and I spoke was just after her surgery when she was still in the hospital. I told her I was coming to stay with her and help her until the cast comes off. She said she was looking forward to seeing me and made a joke about how she would have broken her leg sooner if she knew it would get us a nice long visit together.”

  “That sounds like something Aunt Laura would say,” Phillip muses.

  “Then she said she was glad I was coming because she needed to talk to me about her will,” Glenda says. “She said she changed her will the day she broke her leg, before her surgery.”

  It sounds like she changed her will in a hurry. Maybe she found a way to make it difficult for Mega Mart to purchase the AC if she died.

  Glenda walks behind the counter, pulls out her purse, and plops it on the counter. She reaches into it and pulls out a small notebook.

  “Laura said something had come up, that it was family business, and she would only discuss it with me in person.”

  “I have no idea what it would be,” Phillip says.

  “Neither do I,” Glenda says, opening her notebook and flipping through the pages until she finds what she’s looking for.

  “Megan,” she says, looking up at me, “when Laura phoned to tell me she broke her leg and would be having surgery, she told me if anything happens, I should call her lawyer. He has her will and knows what to do. She made me write down his name.” She squints at the page in her small notebook. “Do you know an Adam Martel?” she asks me. “Is he any relation to you?”

  Phillip and I look at each other and smile.

  “Funnily enough, yes,” I reply. “We were married for twenty years.”

  A concerned look takes over Glenda’s face. I reach out and touch her arm.

  “Adam is an excellent lawyer,” I reassure her. “Laura’s estate is in good hands.”

  Chapter 7

  Thursday January 9th

  Connie agreed to open the store this morning while Sophie and I run an errand.

  I have reservations about bringing Sophie with me to Laura’s house. The last time we were here, Laura was dead. I don’t know how dogs process trauma, or if being outside the house will confuse her because we aren’t going inside and she’s not staying.

  I’m hoping Sophie and the postal carrier will recognize each other and Sophie’s familiar presence might make them more inclined to speak to me.

  We wait in the warmth of the car outside Laura’s house until I see the postal carrier a few houses away. Then we go to the porch. The crime scene tape sealing off the front door isn’t obstructing the mailbox, so I assume if Laura has mail, the postal carrier will deliver it today.

  A few minutes later, the postal carrier climbs the two steps to Laura’s porch, squats down to Sophie’s level, and they greet each other like old friends. They’ve obviously met before since the postal carrier is calling her by name. She stands up and puts Laura’s mail in the mailbox. I introduce myself to her as a friend of Laura’s and tell her I’m Sophie’s temporary guardian. She says she heard about Laura’s death from one of the neighbours while on her route yesterday. She gives Sophie her condolences and asks me if I know what happened to Laura.

  “I don’t know the details,” I say. “I heard it was sudden and looked like she died of natural causes. She’d just had surgery, you know.”

  I hate lying, but I also hate perpetuating gossip. Also, I’m not sure if the coroner’s findings are intended to be public knowledge or not, so best to err on the side of caution.

  “Do you always do your route at the same time?” I ask. “Is this what time you delivered Laura’s mail on Tuesday?

  “It would have been very close,” she replies. “Sometimes the weather can affect how long I take, and a heavy mail day can slow me down, but I think on Tuesday I was here around this time.�
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  “Did you happen to notice if Laura had company when you were here?” I ask. “We think she had a visitor that morning, but we aren’t sure who it was.”

  “I didn’t see anyone,” she replies, shaking her head. “There was a car in the driveway that wasn’t Laura’s. She drives a white SUV, and the car in the driveway was a sedan. I didn’t see anyone inside it. It was either grey or silver. A four-door model, I think.”

  Like the car Glenda drives.

  When I roll up to Knitorious, I park behind the store. Eric’s car isn’t here. He’s hard at work looking for Laura’s killer, and Phillip is loading today’s deliveries into his van.

  Sophie and I get out of the car and walk over to Phillip to say hi. He crouches down and gives Sophie some love while he and I complain about the frigid wind blowing off the lake today. Then Sophie and I walk across the parking lot to the back door of the store.

  Realizing I’ve left my phone plugged into the console of my car, I open the door and let Sophie inside (there’s no point in both of us being cold) while I go back to the car to retrieve my phone before it freezes.

  Phone in hand, I lock the car, walk back to the door, reach for the door handle, slip on the same patch of ice that tripped me up on Tuesday, lose my footing, and in a blur of fumbling and flashing limbs, do everything I can to right myself.

  The next thing I know, Phillip is kneeling over me telling me to stay awake. The sun is in my eyes and everything is blurry. The back of my head is throbbing, and my ankle hurts. I try to prop myself up on my elbows, but Phillip stops me.

  “Nowahhhhhhhh!!” Phillip yells.

  I’ve never heard him yell like that. Phillip is a soft-spoken man with a quiet, gentle voice. He yelled Noah’s name so loudly that people named Noah three towns over are probably turning their heads wondering who called them, and looking at the person next to them, asking, “Did you hear that?”

  I try again to get up and Phillip stops me, again.