by Polly Holmes
Click.
Pay with my life? Does that mean I’m next?
****
Margarete busied herself getting ready for work, her body still on high alert after her anonymous caller last night. She thought about calling Kayne after her disturbing phone call, but what could he do, except tell her to lock the doors and report any further incidents? She’d not only locked the doors. She’d raced around and locked all the windows as well. Something she hadn’t done since moving to Ashton Point seven years ago.
A piercing knock at the door caught her off guard and she jumped, spluttering her hot steamy coffee all over the marble kitchen bench. “Darn it. As if I’m not already running late for work.” She quickly wiped up the coffee mess and placed her cup in the sink. Three more knocks echoed impatiently as she headed down the hallway. She froze a metre from the door and her breath caught in her throat.
What if it’s the same person who called last night?
Margarete held her breath and crept to the window tiptoeing silently on the floor. Easing the curtain open slightly, she breathed a short-lived sigh of relief. The sight of Kayne Pendleton standing tall in his police uniform was a harsh reminder of the last twenty-four hours.
She flung the door open. “What can I do for you, officer?”
“Morning, Margarete. I’m sorry for the house call but I wanted to get back on to this as soon as possible.” He held an evidence bag up toward her. “Does this look familiar to you?”
Margarete’s eyes widened. “Where did that come from?” she asked.
“Olivia brought it over early this morning. Does it look familiar?” he asked once more.
She shook her head. “No, should it?” She scanned the letter, and the threatening words sent alarm bells screaming in her mind.
We had a deal, Pierre. You don’t go back on your word unless you are willing to suffer the consequences. You’ll pay for this, believe me. This isn’t over, not by a long shot.
“I did not write that letter,” she said, a renewed determination spurring her on.
“I thought as much, but just to be sure, can I get a sample of your handwriting?”
“Of course. I have a shopping list I used for the party on the table. Will that do?” she asked, eager to clear up this misunderstanding.
“That will be perfect,” he said with a smile.
“I’ll be back in a moment.” She returned and pointed to the evidence bag. “I have to say, if I wrote with little curly “E”s like that, I think I’d take a class on handwriting. Looks pretty child-like to me.”
Kayne frowned, his gaze dropping to the letter. “I assure you, it was no child-like way Pierre was murdered.”
The M-word sent icy goose bumps up her spine. “Will that be all?”
“For now.” He nodded. “I’m sure we’ll be chatting further.” He pulled an evidence bag from his pocket and held it open. Margarete dropped her shopping list inside, and he turned and sauntered back to his police car.
Confident that she had been absolved from any connection to the letter, Margarete did one final brush of her hair before throwing it up in a messy bun. She grabbed her bag and headed off to deal with the hordes of visitors she usually greeted through her café on a sunny autumn Sunday.
The crowds rotated through the Tea 4 two Café at regular intervals keeping both Savannah and Margarete on their toes. “Wow, this is crazy. It’s March, for goodness sake. Tourist season is over, or at least I thought it was.”
Savannah carefully placed two cappuccinos and two lattes on her service try. “I guess it’s guests from last night’s party. Remember, they had to stay around town, and we are the most popular café in Ashton Point,” Savannah said, a cheeky smile flitted across her expression. “Where else were they going to get the best coffee and the yummiest food?”
Margarete’s chest warmed with gratification as she moved on rote, making more takeaway coffees. She never got tired of the combination of the sweet coffee aromas that mixed together. It was heaven to her nostrils. Margarete’s dream had always been to make people happy with her delicious food. A black cloud descended over her as her mind drifted back to the fiasco of last night. The image of Pierre’s motionless body lying stiff on the floor, her knife jutting out of his back, sickened her.
“Margarete …Margarete. Hello?” Suzi said, snapping her fingers in front of Margarete’s face. “Where were you?”
Margarete gasped and a burst of hot water splashed over the back of her hand. “Ouch. How clumsy of me. I’m so sorry, Suzi. I zoned out. My head isn’t really with it today,” she said racing to clean up her hand and the coffee mess she’d made.
Suzi frowned. Sympathy ran deep in her eyes. “I can’t possibly imagine. I’m sure it will all turn out okay in the end. Do you know if Charlotte’s lunch order is ready yet? I think she rang it through to Savannah earlier today. I said I’d pick it up on my way through.”
She could always count on the McCorrson sisters for support. It wasn’t long ago they’d been in the exact same predicament as she was. At least she knew who to call if her situation took a turn for the worst. They loved her food and she loved their cupcakes. A perfect match. “Sure is. Savannah took care of it as soon as it came in.” Margarete handed her a brown takeaway bag over the counter. The succulent smell of chicken parmigiana wafted through the air, accosting her nostrils.
Gosh, that smells good. No wonder her stomach was rumbling. She’d forgotten to eat breakfast this morning. An error she’d remedy shortly, once the crowd thinned.
“Enjoy,” Margarete said.
Suzi smiled and turned to leave, calling over her shoulder. “Oh, and I’m really sorry about the paper. I tried my best to reel Daniel in, but you know how he gets when a news story breaks in Ashton Point. It’s not really that bad, and it doesn’t actually say you did it. Okay, bye.”
Margarete stood mouth opened, her mind struggling to process Suzi’s words as she watched her fading figure exit the café.
Paper… Daniel… News story? No. No. No, surely Daniel wouldn’t accuse her of murder?
Margarete scanned the café for the usual Sunday customers reading their complimentary Ashton Point Chronicle. Not a paper in sight. She turned toward Savannah. “Where are our copies of The Chronicle? Have you seen the paper today?” Savannah bit her bottom lip and her brow creased. “You have. How bad is it? Don’t hold back, give it to me straight.”
Savannah shrugged. “It must have slipped my mind to pick them up on the way to work.”
“How bad is it?” Margarete asked through gritted teeth.
“It doesn’t actually say that you murdered Pierre, but it doesn’t deny it either. I wouldn’t worry about it. Do you really think we would be this busy today if people really thought you were a cold-blooded murderer?”
“I guess not.” The chime of the doorbell signalled another customer. Margarete spun and her heart jumped inside her chest. Ashton Point’s version of McDreamy stood just inside the door. His gaze caught hers and his smile lit up his gorgeous face. A shining light in her otherwise dim morning.
“Logan. How nice to see you again,” she said as he approached the counter.
“Good morning, Margarete and Savannah,” he said as he placed a folded arm on the counter. “Are we still on for lunch?”
Margarete gazed around the café and her heart sank. “I wish I could say yes, but we’re swamped. This influx of customers is great for business, especially in light of recent events.”
“Mmmm. What about an alternative?” he asked, moving to the side of the counter out of earshot of customers.
A flutter of nerves tossed her insides as she joined him. “I’m listening.”
“How about you be my date at the McCorrson’s get-together at the pub this afternoon?”
Date? He wants to go on a date…with me?
“Aren’t you here with your stepmother?”
“Yes, but I doubt she wants to be my date. Besides, she’s spent most of the morning wi
th Edith McCorrson. I’m sure she can get her own way to the pub.”
“Um. Are you sure that’s wise? Are you sure you don’t mind being seen in public with a suspected murderer?”
“Pftt,” he said, swishing his hand through the air. “People can say what they want. We both know you didn’t have anything to do with the murder, regardless of what the paper says.”
Dizziness rushed through her body like a crack of lightning. “You read the paper?”
“Pretty hard not to. We’re staying at the Seaside Hotel and we were greeted with a free copy at breakfast today.”
Great. Now everyone in town will think I did it. “I swear, the nerve of that man.”
Logan’s brow creased. “Who?”
“Daniel at The Chronicle,” she said, annoyance firing through her words. “I have a good mind to march right over there and make him eat his words.”
“But then what would your customers do without you to cook their delicious food?” Logan asked, obviously in an attempt to ease her growing anxieties.
Cute and charming. Where has this man been all my life? The thought sent an embarrassing warm blush flooding her cheeks and she quickly turned away, pretending to wipe down the counter. Thank goodness I didn’t say that out loud.
“So, is that a yes for the get-together this afternoon?” Logan asked.
Giddy bubbles were turning her stomach upside down. It had been years since a man had had this profound effect on her. Why waste it due to pathetic rumours? She smiled. “I’d love to be your date this afternoon.”
Logan beamed with acceptance and her body went into sensitive overdrive.
Her gaze was nabbed by the sudden appearance of a gorgeous, petite blonde walking towards her. Margarete’s blushing turned to anger as her eyes locked with Katie Simpson, Daniel’s assistant.
“How could you let Daniel print that nonsense about me, Katie?” Betrayal hung heavy in her gut. Katie was one of her friends, or so she’d thought. “You of all people know that I could never do such a terrible thing.”
Katie’s expression ran through a multitude of emotions within seconds. Guilt. Regret. Concern. Each clawing at Margarete’s heart.
“You have no idea how sorry I am. You are the last person I would ever intentionally hurt,” Katie said dumping her briefcase on the counter. “But when Daniel gets his mind set on something, it’s almost impossible to change it. He is the boss. Believe me, I did try.”
The distress in Katie’s eyes began to melt Margarete’s hardened demeanour. Deep down, she knew Katie was a good soul. “It’s okay. I know you would have if you could.”
Logan coughed grabbing the attention of both ladies. “How rude of me. Katie, have you met Logan Hunter?” Katie shook her head, and a suspicious glint in her gaze taunted Margarete.
“No, I haven’t, but I did see you at the party last night.” She thrust her hand out toward Logan. “Katie Simpson, assistant editor at The Ashton Point Chronicle. Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise, Katie Simpson,” he said with a charming smile. “I, for one, am glad that you agree that this beautiful woman here…” He paused and his gaze locked on to Margarete’s. “…could not possibly be a murderer. Maybe you could set the record straight?”
Katie’s eyes widened and slapped her forehead. “That’s it, you’re absolutely right. Margarete, if you give me an exclusive interview of the events of last night as you know them, I’m sure we can set the record straight and shut down the town gossips for good. What do you say?”
“Um.” Margarete stood frozen to the spot, her gaze still locked with Logan. An interview to hear her side of the story. Was that such a good idea?
“Trust me, Margarete. I promise to write your side of the story. We’ll counter Daniel’s article with the truth.” The eagerness in Katie’s voice called to Margarete.
Logan chimed in. “Think about it, Margarete. A story that prints the truth could go a long way to help prove your innocence.”
Margarete bit her bottom lip as anticipation rose in her belly. “You promise you will print the truth and only what I say?”
Katie nodded.
“Okay, but…” Margarete’s words were drowned by Katie’s excited squeal. “Katie.”
“Yes, I promise. When? Now?” Katie said, her eagerness shining through her words.
“Whoa. Whoa, slow down. Apart from working here today, I’m off to the McCorrson’s get-together at the pub this afternoon. Then, maybe I’ll have some time to think about it. Why don’t you give me a call this evening and we can set a date?”
“Deal,” Katie said picking up her briefcase. “And will we see you at the pub this afternoon, Logan?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. Margarete and I will be there.”
Katie’s jaw dropped. “As in ‘together?’”
Margarete felt her chest tighten as the impact of Katie’s question hit her, but before she could answer, Logan spoke.
“Yes, as in ‘together.’ Margarete has agreed to be my date.”
Margarete stood, unable to move or breathe as she watched Katie’s retreating figure. She could see the new front-page now. Suspected murderer nabs the attention of McDreamy look-a-like. Will sparks fly or will it be a short-lived love affair?
“What’s wrong?” Logan asked.
“I know I said that I’d accompany you to the get-together, but did you have to say it was a date to the assistant editor of the local paper?” she asked, her voice jumping into her throat.
“What’s wrong with that? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” he asked, the hurt in his tone caught her off guard.
“No, no of course not,” she blurted. “It’s just that I’m not one to broadcast my personal life around. This is a small town. People will talk.”
Logan brushed her comment aside. “Let them. I’ve come to realise that people will talk no matter what you say or do. As long as you maintain your integrity, then you have nothing to worry about. Besides I would be honoured to have you on my arm this afternoon. I’ll be the envy of every bachelor in town.”
Giggles bubbled in her belly. Ha, ha, there aren’t too many of those in town.
Savannah’s voice trailed across the café. “Margarete, are you done? Because I could really use your help about now.”
Guilt hit Margarete and a familiar blush embedded in her cheeks. “Yes, of course,” she said over her shoulder.
“I’ll get out of your way. Shall I pick you up around two?” Logan asked.
“Two sounds perfect.” She felt her cheeks glowing. He sent her a brilliant smile, nodded then turned and left.
Bring on two o’clock.
Chapter Six
“Seriously, is there no outfit that doesn’t make me look guilty?” Margarete said as she threw the last of her presentable tops on the chair in the corner of her bedroom. She flopped down on her bed, squeezing her eyes shut tight. She had no idea what to wear, but each outfit she’d tried on felt wrong. As if she were trying too hard.
“Ahhhhhhh. That’s it,” she said through gritted teeth as she shot from the bed. “Forget the town gossips, they are going to gossip no matter what I wear. From now on, there is only one person’s opinion, I’m interested in and that’s Logan Hunter’s.”
The image in the mirror reflected fineness. Satisfaction boomed and elation worked its way into her chest. “Perfect.”
Thank goodness Savannah insisted she close the café today. It gave Margarete a chance to spend a little extra time getting ready for her date this afternoon. She paused by the full-length hall mirror and stared. “Date, oh my. I am actually going on a date with the hunkiest guy in town.” She pointed to her reflection in the mirror. “Now, you listen to me, Margarete Becker. You have a date with a gorgeous man who obviously likes you. So it’s time to let all the nonsense go and enjoy your time with him. After all, he may not be in town long.”
The thought clouded her happiness, but she shook it off just as quickly as it had arrived. She picked up
her fuchsia, silk-satin shawl and headed out just as the doorbell kick-started her heart into overdrive. “Right on time. I like a man who’s punctual.”
****
Logan drove toward the centre of town, his pulse beating against the side of his temple. Margarete had almost bowled him over when she’d opened her front door. With her beautiful brown locks falling wistfully over her shoulders, she looked like a professional model straight out of a fashion magazine. Her sweet voice knocked him back to reality.
“So, what was it you said you did again? That is, when you’re not escorting your stepmother to anniversary dinners.” she asked.
“I’m a youth worker at my local youth club,” Logan said, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.
“That’s right. It must be pretty full-on, working with moody teenagers all the time.”
“I wasn’t always a youth worker. Up until early last year I was a solicitor working for a big firm in the city.” An unexpected twinge of regret hit him hard. Regret at time wasted. “I like to give back if I can. Not all of us have been lucky in life and if I can help set even one teenager on the right path, then my time hasn’t been wasted,” he said, his tone more sombre than he expected.
Margarete bit her bottom lip before she continued. “Sounds like there’s more to it.”
“There is.” he paused and sucked in a deep breath. It had been a while since he’d spoken of Dean and each time, he relieved the nightmare over again.
Her cheeks turned the cutest shade of ruby red and she quickly returned to looking out the window. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I’m often told I stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
He cursed himself. “Don’t be silly. I happen to think you have a cute nose and you are welcome to stick it in my business any time you like.” His jaw dropped and his chest tightened as if the embarrassing weight of his words stunned him into silence.
Holy cow, did I really just say that out loud? Way to impress a woman with your intellect, dummy.