Crêpe Expectations

by Sarah Fox

Ray was already drawing his gun. “Marley, stay here.”

  I hung back by the vehicles while Ray entered the house, Deputy Rutowski going with him. Dusk had fallen since I’d arrived at Coach Hannigan’s house. The lamplight in the living room helped me to see people moving about inside, but I only had a general idea of what was going on. Fortunately, it seemed like the situation was still under control.

  A couple of minutes later, Tyrone came out the front door, his hands cuffed behind him, Deputy Rutowski guiding him over to the nearest cruiser.

  Ray appeared in the doorway and motioned to me to join him. “We’ll need a statement from you, Marley,” he said as he returned to the living room with me on his heels. He had a plastic evidence bag in one hand with Tyrone’s knife inside.

  “No problem,” I said.

  “Any idea why Tyrone was threatening you?” Ray directed the question at Coach Hannigan.

  The former baseball coach was seated in an armchair, looking a bit pale. “He seems to think I killed Demetra and hurt Amy Strudwick somehow.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how he came up with that idea.”

  “He was pretty convinced,” I said, not sure if I believed Hannigan.

  “Maybe so.” He got up from the chair. “But I can prove I didn’t kill Demetra Kozani.”

  “How?” Fellmen asked. “That was ten years ago.”

  “I’ll show you.” Hannigan led the way into a dining room that appeared to function more as an office than an eating space.

  The large table was covered with piles of papers and file folders. A stack of sports magazines took up one chair while a messy heap of newspapers and junk mail occupied another. Hannigan went straight to a gray filing cabinet sitting in one corner. He riffled through the contents of one of the drawers before taking out a file folder.

  He pulled some papers from the folder and handed them over to Ray.

  “The day before Demetra was last seen alive, I ended up in the hospital with a ruptured appendix,” Hannigan explained. “I didn’t get home for a week, and even then I wasn’t fit enough to go around killing people.”

  Ray nodded as he finished studying the papers, apparently satisfied.

  “What about Amy Strudwick?” I asked.

  Ray shot me a look that wasn’t difficult to interpret. He wanted me to leave the questions to him.

  “What about her?” Hannigan asked. “I still don’t know what happened there. Did someone try to kill her? Is she all right?”

  “She was hit on the head at her studio this morning,” Ray replied. “She has a concussion, but she’s expected to make a full recovery.”

  “I was visiting my sister in Port Angeles this morning,” Hannigan said. “Feel free to confirm that with her.”

  “You weren’t a suspect,” Ray assured him. “Amy thought Tyrone was the one who assaulted her.”

  “I don’t think he did,” I said.

  Ray focused his stern gaze on me. “You and I will chat in a minute.”

  Yikes. I sensed a lecture coming my way.

  Ray was quiet for a moment, and I guessed he was listening to someone talking through his earpiece.

  His expression grew even more serious.

  “I need to leave,” he said to all of us. “There’s an accident out on the highway. I’ll need statements from all three of you. If you could stop by my office tomorrow, I’d appreciate it.”

  We barely had a chance to indicate our assent before he was out the door. I followed a few seconds behind him, and by the time I got outside, both cruisers were already turning around in the driveway. They set off toward the road a moment later, activating their lights and sirens.

  I hoped no one was badly hurt in the accident.

  My gaze fell on my blue hatchback, and I jogged toward it, peering in through the open window. I breathed a sigh of relief. Tyrone had left my keys in the ignition.

  Fellmen came out of the house, Hannigan following him as far as the doorway.

  “Crazy,” the coach said, running a hand over his balding head.

  “What’s your explanation for Tyrone’s behavior?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “I don’t really have one. Thinking things through was never the kid’s forte, at least off the baseball field. I have no idea how he came up with those crazy notions.”

  I nodded, though a wedge of uneasiness lodged in my chest.

  “Do you think he’s the killer?” Fellmen asked.

  “Nah,” Hannigan said. “He’s got his issues, but he’s no killer.”

  After the things I’d seen pass across Tyrone’s face that evening, I tended to agree with him on that.

  “We’ll get out of your hair,” Fellmen said, heading for his car.

  Hannigan raised a hand in acknowledgment and disappeared into his house, shutting the door.

  “What do you make of all this?” I asked the PI.

  He opened the driver’s side door of his car and regarded me over the roof. “I report to Mrs. Kozani, not you.”

  He didn’t give me a chance to say anything in response, getting into his car and starting the engine. That was probably for the best. I didn’t have anything pleasant to say to him in that moment.

  I didn’t like that everything was still up in the air, Demetra’s murder still unsolved. Maybe that was the reason I felt so uneasy. Hopefully Ray and his team would soon figure out who killed her.

  I got into my car and turned it around, following a few seconds behind Fellmen as he drove down the hill toward the road. I flicked on my headlights. Dusk had slipped into darkness while I was in the house.

  At the bottom of the driveway, I slowed to a stop. Something flickered in my right side mirror. My foot still on the brake, I turned in my seat to look over my shoulder.

  My eyes hadn’t played a trick on me, I realized.

  Someone was on Hannigan’s property, moving stealthily through the shadows toward the house.

  Chapter 32

  I made a split-second decision.

  Shutting off my car’s lights and engine, I pocketed my keys and phone and climbed out of the car, shutting the door as quietly as possible. My feet crunched on the gravel driveway with each step, so I hurried over to the grass so I’d make less noise.

  I jogged up the hill, scanning the darkness as I went. I caught sight of another flicker of movement as the shadowy form of the prowler headed around Hannigan’s house toward the back.

  I picked up my pace and ran straight to the front door, keeping my knock fairly quiet.

  Hannigan answered a few seconds later, surprise and a hint of wariness registering on his face when he saw me.

  “You’ve got a prowler,” I said without preamble. “Heading around the back of your house.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?” Hannigan was already heading down the hallway.

  I shut the front door behind me and followed him. “No, I just saw a moving shadow.”

  I put my hand to the pocket of my jeans where my phone was tucked away. “Do you want me to call 911?”

  “The sheriff and his deputies are tied up with more important things at the moment,” Hannigan said. “I’ll turn on the lights out back. That’ll probably scare him off.”

  He flipped a switch on the wall and opened the back door.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t—”

  A baseball bat swung through the air and connected with Hannigan’s head with a sickening crack.

  I gasped. Hannigan crumpled to the floor, blood running down his face.

  “You weren’t supposed to be here,” Amy said, her gray eyes fixed on me.

  Still clutching the baseball bat, now smeared with blood, she stepped over Hannigan’s body. I backed up in a rush, bumping into the kitchen wall. Amy raised the bat.

  I ducked to the side. The bat connected with the wall. The s
ound of the impact reverberated in my ears. I didn’t take the time to check if it had left a hole. Amy was already drawing back the weapon.

  I lunged across the hall and through the nearest door, slamming it shut behind me and turning the lock. It wasn’t secure enough to hold Amy off for long, but it might buy me some time.

  Backing away from the door, I took in my surroundings. I was in a bathroom with a tiled floor, a tub on my left, a pedestal sink and toilet to my right. A quick glance over my shoulder was enough to tell me I had no way to escape. There was a window, but it was far too small for me to fit through.

  The doorknob rattled. My heart beat furiously in my chest as I dug my phone out of my pocket with shaking hands. It took me two tries to unlock it.

  The baseball bat smacked against the door. I nearly jumped out of my skin. My phone slipped from my hands and clattered into the sink.

  Amy struck the door again, and it rattled on its hinges. I snatched my phone out of the sink as the bat connected with the door once more. My whole body jerked at the loud impact, but this time I kept my phone in my grasp.

  “Why are you doing this, Amy?” I yelled through the door as I put a call through to 911.

  “Why do you think?” She punctuated her question with another strike at the door.

  “You killed Demetra.” I still didn’t understand everything, but I knew I was right about that.

  My heart gave a painful jolt when the bat made impact again.

  I heard wood splinter. The door wouldn’t hold her back much longer.

  “Police,” I gasped into the phone when the dispatcher answered. “There’s a woman with a baseball bat.”

  Amy struck again. A small, splintered hole appeared halfway up the door.

  Fear sent the pitch of my voice up a notch. “She’s got me trapped in a bathroom and she’s trying to break down the door! She already attacked a man!”

  “What’s your location, ma’am?” the dispatcher asked calmly.

  I rattled off the address. I barely had all the words out when Amy hit the door yet again.

  “Hang up the phone!” she yelled at me from the hallway.

  She renewed her attack on the door, striking faster and harder now. The small hole grew bigger with each blow.

  Eventually she stopped her onslaught, and I could hear heavy breathing through the door.

  “I really don’t know why you attacked Coach Hannigan,” I said loudly, still gripping my phone but holding it away from my ear. “Did he know you killed Demetra?”

  “No, but he wanted me dead. He sent his cousin to kill me, to shut me up for good.”

  I struggled to process what she was saying, my fear and pounding heart making me want to escape rather than think.

  “Tyrone is Coach Hannigan’s cousin?”

  “Not Tyrone,” she said between heavy breaths. “Mr. Kerwin.”

  “Willard Kerwin?” I asked, confused. “But you accused Tyrone of attacking you.”

  “I just told the cops that to get back at Tyrone. I knew all along it was Mr. Kerwin. Hannigan must have sent him. Why else would he attack me?”

  I could think of a possible reason—if he was the saboteur—but she didn’t give me a chance to share it with her.

  She’d obviously caught her breath because she struck hard at the door again.

  “You were the one who met with Coach Hannigan in the trees by the beach,” I said. “Why did he want to silence you?”

  My attempt to distract her didn’t work. She ignored me and upped the intensity of her attack on the door.

  The dispatcher was talking to me, but I dropped my phone onto the edge of the sink and grabbed a metal towel rack, prying it loose from the wall. It was a pathetic weapon in comparison to Amy’s bat, but it was all I had to work with.

  The bat struck the door again, widening the hole further. Amy pulled back the weapon and peered at me through the splintered gap. Her eyes were flat and emotionless. The sight of them sent a sharp chill through me.

  I wrenched the towel rack free from the wall and caught sight of myself in the mirror above the sink. Unlike Amy’s eyes, mine were wide with fear.

  She struck at the door again.

  I looked at the towel rack in my hands.

  Maybe I could get a better weapon.

  I was about to strike the mirror with the towel rack, hoping to break away a shard, when I heard a strangled cry from the hallway.

  Everything went quiet for a second or two, and then I heard a muffled thud.

  I stood frozen, listening, my pulse beating like a drum in my ears.

  “You all right in there?” a man called out.

  My knees went weak with relief. It was Jake Fellmen’s voice.

  “It’s safe to come out now,” he said.

  My hands still trembling, I unlocked the door and cautiously opened it a crack.

  Amy was lying slumped on the hallway floor, her eyes closed. Fellmen stood over her, the baseball bat held loosely at his side. I couldn’t tell if Amy was breathing.

  I opened the door wider.

  “Is she…?” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the question.

  “Just unconscious,” Fellmen assured me. He looked at me over Amy’s unmoving body. “Something tells me we’ve finally got the killer.”

  Chapter 33

  The weather couldn’t have been more perfect on the day of the garden party at the Wildwood Inn. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue, and the bright sunshine was pleasantly warm but not too hot. The neatly trimmed lawn and the leafy trees provided a gorgeous green backdrop for the bursts of white, purple, red, pink, and yellow from the flowers Brett had planted and tended.

  Everyone seemed in awe of the beautiful house and garden, and I couldn’t help but smile with pride every time someone complimented Brett on his work. The turnout for the party was fantastic, with what seemed like half the town showing up to enjoy the spectacular setting and the delicious catered food that was set out on two long tables beneath a white canopy.

  I’d become separated from Brett while I was talking with a few of The Flip Side’s regular customers, but as I wandered toward the food tables on my own, I spotted him over by the punch bowl. He was talking with his mom and his aunt—Ray’s wife—but his gaze kept drifting my way.

  He filled glasses with punch for his mom and aunt, and then filled two more and headed toward me.

  “Thirsty?” He offered me one of the glasses.

  “Thank you.” I took a sip of the refreshing drink, enjoying the fruity flavor. As the skirt of my green dress fluttered in the breeze, I realized Brett was grinning at me, his own drink untouched. “What?”

  “I can’t take my eyes off you. That dress… Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

  “Only half a dozen times so far today,” I said with a smile. I gave his blue tie a gentle tug. It matched the color of his eyes perfectly, and he wore it with a gray suit. “You’re looking pretty darn good yourself, but that’s not unusual.”

  He leaned toward me. I was about to accept his kiss when I heard someone call my name.

  I turned to see Hope and Chloe crossing the grass toward us, Chloe carrying a small plate with a piece of cake on it.

  “Sorry to interrupt, lovebirds,” Chloe said with a smile. “But we’ve heard several versions of what happened at Coach Hannigan’s house, and we want to hear the story from someone who was there.”

  “We don’t want to upset you, though,” Hope said quickly. “So if you don’t want to talk about it, Marley, we understand.”

  “It’s okay,” I assured them. I’d already told the story many times over, first to Ray and his deputies, then to Brett, and then to several people at the pancake house in the days since Amy’s arrest.

  Brett’s hand came to rest at the small of my back as I recounted what had happened
from the time Tyrone confronted Bruce Hannigan to the point when Jake Fellmen rendered Amy unconscious with a sleeper hold.

  “I was so shocked to hear that Amy’s the killer,” Hope said.

  “Same,” Chloe chimed in. “Is it true she did it because she was being blackmailed? I can picture Demetra as a blackmailer, but I never would have guessed that she’d target Amy.”

  “That was part of it,” I said.

  Amy had regained consciousness before Ray had hauled her away from Coach Hannigan’s house in handcuffs, but she hadn’t said anything more at the scene. Jake Fellmen had filled me in on the details a few days later. He’d stopped by The Flip Side before leaving town and had told me what he’d learned from speaking with people at the sheriff’s department and Mrs. Kozani. He’d been nicer to me since Amy’s arrest, possibly because of the fright I’d experienced.

  “When you were in high school, Coach Hannigan paid Amy to tutor Tyrone and help him pass his classes,” I explained. “Only it was more like doing his homework and helping him cheat on exams than actual tutoring. Amy needed the money so she could go to photography school, so she did what Hannigan wanted. But Demetra found out somehow. She threatened to spill the beans, so Hannigan had to pay her off and Amy had to help her with her modeling portfolio for free.”

  “But you said the blackmail was only part of it,” Chloe said as she sank her fork into her piece of cake.

  I nodded. “After Amy helped her with her portfolio, Demetra started demanding money from her as well as from Coach Hannigan. But the final straw came on the night of the party. Demetra figured out that Amy was in love with Tyrone. When Demetra was leaving the party, she saw Amy in the woods, just arriving. She’d dressed up more than usual, was planning to tell Tyrone about her feelings for him that night. Demetra taunted her.”

  I paused, not wanting to put the next part into words. It was too awful. Even though I’d had a chance to digest the story since I’d heard it from Fellmen, it was still disturbing.

  “Amy snapped,” Brett picked up the story. I’d already shared everything I knew with him. “She shoved Demetra hard. Demetra fell and hit her head on a rock. Amy panicked and buried her body and then went home.”