by Amy Lillard
“What?” Fern was on her feet in an instant. She might look the part of Sweet Little Old Lady, but she had a streak as tough as cast iron. “Let’s go.” She motioned for everyone to stand. “Come on. I’m serious.”
A pint-sized drill sergeant. That was the best way to describe her. After all, everyone dutifully stood and filed out to their cars.
“Sam, you ride with Arlo. The rest can come with me.”
17
“Why can’t he go with you?” In truth, they could all fit into the Lincoln. It had bench seating and would easily accommodate six people. But if she pointed that out, she might be stuck sitting way too close to Sam. It wasn’t that far to the police station from the inn, but any distance was too far in her opinion.
“Oh, there’s no room, love.” Camille flashed her an innocent smile. Fern wasn’t the only one trying to play matchmaker.
“Aren’t you going to help me out here?” Arlo sent her godmother a please help me look.
She didn’t take the hint. “You and Sam will be just fine.” Helen ducked into the car and gave her a small wave.
“If you keep this up, you’re going to give me a complex.”
“Oh yeah?” Arlo ignored the shiver Sam’s voice caused and twirled her keys on one finger, allowing them to fall back into her palm. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Why are you so against me riding with you?” Sam asked once they were in her car and headed for the station.
“You know why.” She shot him a look.
“That was ten years ago.”
And yet it felt like no time had passed at all. When she looked at him, she saw a mixture of what he was now and what he had been then. He smelled the same. He still had the same crooked smile and that little chip in his front tooth. With all that working against her, how was she supposed to remember that it had been ten years ago and not last week?
“Yeah.” She turned her attention back to the road. It wouldn’t do any good to crash the car because she was gawking at her passenger.
“And we’re neighbors now.”
She nodded. “How did you get to the inn?”
“Camille picked me up. That car of hers.” He shook his head.
“It’s amazing, huh?” And just like Camille—vintage, stylish, and smooth.
“She told me that she saved her money for eight years to be able to buy it on a teacher’s salary.”
Arlo nodded. “She said she always wanted a Mercedes. I think it was about ten years old when she bought it. She’s had it for at least twenty, if the stories I’m hearing about it are correct.”
“It’s in mint condition,” Sam said.
“Just like Camille.”
He laughed, and just like that, the moment turned awkward.
Silence descended upon them. Arlo searched her brain for something to say, but all the things that came to mind dealt with the past.
So they rode that way, neither one speaking until she parked her car in the lot next to the police station.
“Thanks for the ride,” he said. She couldn’t tell if he was just being Sam or if there was something hidden in the words he said.
“Yeah.” She swung her purse onto her shoulder and locked the car. Sugar Springs was a small town with small-town values, but a person still had to be careful. Small town and perfect town were not synonymous.
“I demand you let us back to see Chloe this instant.” Camille was standing in front of the reception desk, one hand on her hip, the other supporting her big white bag. The other women two flanked her, a wall of gray hair and Nike running shoes.
Jason stood and crossed his arms. He had Camille by a foot or more, but the little lady wasn’t backing down.
“Remember that B you needed in order to play in the state championship game?”
He blinked, and then a red flush started under his collar and worked its way into his face. He turned a ruddy sort of color, not unlike the red clay dirt that accented Northern Mississippi and the neighboring states.
“You gave me extra credit work to help my grade. I earned it.” But his voice didn’t sound as confident as it had before.
“You may have earned it, but I gave it to you. I created that work so you could have the chance to make it up. And if I had marked all the punctuation errors in your essay question…” She trailed off with an expressive shrug.
“But the question was on Hamlet. Not punctuation.”
“Yes, but it was still an English class. Now do be a love and let us through.”
To Arlo’s utter amazement, he did as she said. Even Sam looked impressed.
“Chloe, dear,” Camille called, peering around the corner into the dogleg corridor where the holding cells were.
“Camille?”
“Yes, love, and I’ve brought a few friends.”
Chloe wrapped her hands around the bars and stood on her tiptoes to get a better view. “Oh my gosh.” Arlo saw the brief sheen of tears in her eyes before she blinked them away. “I’m so happy to see y’all.”
“We’re happy to see you too,” Arlo replied. “I brought your breakfast, but…”
She nodded. “I know. I got it. Thank you.”
“Oh my,” Camille exclaimed. “I forgot to get you some lunch.” She opened her purse and took out a twenty like a magician pulling a rabbit from his hat. “Sam, go get Chloe something to eat. What would you like, love?”
“Whatever is fine.”
“Pizza,” Camille said with a definite nod. “Pepperoni or cheese?”
“Pepperoni,” Chloe and Arlo said at the same time.
Arlo turned to her friend and chuckled. It was almost a normal moment. Of course it did help that Sam had moved out of her space. Granted, him being within five yards of her these days constituted being in her space. And what was she going to do about it?
Nothing.
That was over and done. But it was different with Mads. She had been around him longer. Once Sam had been in town for a while, say a couple of years, she would grow accustomed to him. Then this crazy attraction she had for him and the past could be put behind her…in a box…with her crazy attraction for Mads…and locked…for all eternity.
Yep. Good plan.
“Here, love.” Camille reached into her purse and pulled out a large file. Honestly the thing was so long, Arlo wasn’t sure how she got it in her bag in the first place.
“What are you doing?” Arlo asked.
Camille pushed the file between the bars so Chloe could reach it better. Thank goodness she didn’t touch the thing. “I’m giving her a file. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when someone you care about is in jail?”
“No.” Arlo did everything in her power to keep her voice at a normal pitch. It would do no good to alert Jason to what was going on just outside of Chloe’s cell. “Now put that thing away.”
Camille pursed her lips, then put the file back in her handbag. “How about this?” She brought out a skeleton key.
“No.” Once again, Arlo nearly yelled while Fern and Helen laughed behind their hands.
“I told you,” Helen said. “She has everything in there.”
“I’m beginning to believe you!” Arlo shook her head.
“I appreciate the sentiment, Camille, but all the jail cells are electronic now.” Chloe gave her a sweet smile. Arlo knew she was feeling grateful that someone cared enough about her to try to break her out not once but twice.
“I didn’t know.” Camille tucked the key back into her handbag.
Crisis averted, Arlo turned her attention to her friend and business partner. “How are you holding up?”
Chloe shrugged. “As well as can be expected, I suppose.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to get Jayden?”
“No. I don’t want him to see me here.”
&nb
sp; Arlo nodded. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
A movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see Camille fiddling with the control knobs on a small metal box.
“What is that?” Arlo asked. The thing had to have come out of that near-magical handbag.
“It’s an EMP pulse generator.”
“A what?” Helen asked.
“Give me that.” Arlo grabbed it from her thin fingers.
“What is it?” Fern asked.
Arlo caught Chloe’s gaze. Her friend laughed for what could have been the first time since going to jail. It was a welcomed sound, but not perfect. She needed to be laughing on the other side of the bars.
“It’s a device to interrupt electronic impulses.”
Fern nodded in understanding. “And it will open the doors of her cell.”
“Yes, and mess up our phones, the computers out there, even the computers in our cars,” Arlo added. “Where did you get such a thing?”
“The internet.” Camille gave her an innocent look. About as innocent as the cat with a mouthful of canary.
Arlo shook her head. Ever since the book club had started, these three ladies had kept her on her toes. But she hadn’t expected the extra work to come from sweet Aussie schoolteacher Camille.
“Can I have it back please?” Camille held out one hand.
Arlo pulled it close to her chest. “Do you promise to put it away and not use it for…nefarious purposes?”
She raised her fingers in a pledge. “Scout’s honor.”
“You weren’t a scout,” Fern interjected.
“Hush, Fern.” Camille waved a hand toward her friend but didn’t turn around. “Please.”
Behind them Chloe laughed again.
Twice in one day, Arlo thought. This trip was totally worth it.
* * *
Arlo pasted on a smile and entered the police station bright and early the next morning. She had stopped by the supermarket and picked up a couple of pastries, then stopped at Books & More to get a cup of tea for Chloe. She hadn’t complained about Arlo’s brewing efforts. But Arlo suspected it was only because she was trying to keep her chin up and be grateful. Hard things to do when one was locked in an iron-and-concrete cell.
“Hi, Frances,” she greeted the woman behind the desk.
The receptionist/makeshift dispatcher raised her attention from the morning paper and shot Arlo a quick and rueful smile. “How much longer before you can get Chloe out of here?”
“Soon, I hope.” Then the worry flooded in. “Why? Did something happen? Is she okay?”
Frances took a sip of coffee from the mug on her desk and winced. “No, I just miss her coffee.”
Arlo stumbled with relief but managed to get herself back together in the next step.
“Careful, child.”
“Is Mads here?” she asked.
“Who do you think made the coffee?”
Of course.
“Do you need to see him?”
Before Arlo could answer, Mads came out of his office. “Hey,” he said by way of greeting. “I thought I heard you out here. You got Chloe’s breakfast?”
“I do, but I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Okay.”
“In your office, please.”
He motioned her in. “You don’t want to give Chloe her breakfast first?”
“This will only take a minute.” She stepped into his office and turned as he walked in behind her. The place was getting way too comfortable for her. She had been there too many times in the last few days.
“I told the ladies that I would talk to you about this. So here I am.” She drew in a deep breath before continuing. “Why are you letting them wait so long before having the memorial service for Wally?”
He crossed his arms and gave her another one of those annoying cop looks. Or maybe it was an annoyed-cop look. “What difference does it make?”
“It’s a bad idea to wait too long. It’ll give time for word to spread, for people to find out, the media to come.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s going to be crazy around here.”
“And it hasn’t been crazy since Wally was killed?”
“Not the same kind of crazy.”
“It’s done.” His words were flat and brooked no argument. “And Jeff at the funeral home up in Memphis can’t have the ashes back to us before late this afternoon.”
“Why did you send him to Memphis?”
“Inna insisted on it.”
“You mean Daisy.”
“What?”
“Daisy’s his wife. Not Inna.”
“I know.”
“And Inna insisted that he be taken to Memphis?”
“That’s what I said.” Mads’s patience had come to its end.
Arlo nodded. “I said I would talk to you, and I did.” She started to brush past him and out of the office when a familiar voice with an unmistakable accent sounded from the reception area of the station.
“Where is the lawman? I need to speak to head of police here.”
“Are we done?” Mads asked.
Arlo nodded.
He left her standing there as he made his way toward Frances’s desk. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“I come to tell you that I do not understand why you have blond-haired coffee bar worker arrested. She is not guilty. You should see this when is obvious that my Wally’s wife is one who killed him.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I feel my team has made the right deduction in this case and the DA happens to agree.” He shrugged.
“Did you not find mushrooms in his coffee? Her family owns whole farm of them. You know this, yes? And the earring that belongs to the wife. She is the one who should be in cage. Not coffee girl.”
Mads shifted. “Thank you, Miss Kolisnychenko. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Inna nodded but didn’t seem to notice the sarcastic tone.
“How do you know the earring belongs to Daisy?”
“I have same ones. One, two.” She showed them. “But Daisy? She bring them, but they are nowhere now. How does that happen?”
A moment passed between them. A moment that was filled with silence.
“You answer now?” Inna asked.
Mads cleared his throat. “I thought it was a rhetorical question.”
“No.” Inna shifted and propped a hand on her hip while she waited. “The answer will put right women in jail. The one you have now is innocent.”
“Thank you,” he said. Again.
With nothing else she could say in return, Inna turned on her heel and sashayed out of the building.
Mads watched her as she left. Or should she say he watched Inna’s swaying backside.
Arlo stared at him until the sheer force of her gaze turned his attention back to her.
“What?” he said. “You agree with her?”
“You know I do.”
Mads nodded. “I know. But you have to understand, I have more evidence than a family mushroom farm and a pair of diamond earrings.”
“I guess knowing the accused since grade school isn’t a good enough reason.”
“You’ve been watching too much of the Andy Griffith Show. Small town law enforcement doesn’t work that way. I have to follow the evidence and all the evidence points to Chloe being guilty.”
And yesterday’s will reading certainly didn’t help matters. It gave Chloe a fantastic reason for knocking off the ex-boyfriend. Money. And who didn’t need some of that?
Arlo wanted to protest, tell him how that didn’t matter. Money was important but not the boss of Chloe, but it was going to take more than words to convince Mads to let Chloe go.
* * *
“He knows
that you met with Wally the morning he was killed,” Arlo said when she entered the containment room where the holding cells were located.
“Did he say something?” Chloe asked.
“He didn’t have to.”
Chloe sighed. “I told him.”
Arlo stopped unpacking the croissants she bought at the grocery store bakery and stared at her friend. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“I promised to tell the truth.”
“Not that kind of truth.” She separated out one of the croissants, set it on the tabletop and stared at the paper underneath. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Wait a doggone minute.”
“What?” Chloe asked.
“These wrappers. They are identical to the ones we use at the shop.”
“And…”
“And he could have gotten the scones at the supermarket, not from you.”
“I’ve already told you,” Chloe said. “Piggly Wiggly doesn’t carry any scones.”
Arlo glared at her. “Really? That’s all you get from this? Don’t you understand? We don’t know one hundred percent that the killer didn’t meet him with the pastries. ‘You bring the food, and I’ll bring the coffee.’ And if they stopped at the store, then they will be on the security camera!”
“That’s a lot of ifs,” Chloe said. “No wonder I didn’t make the connection.”
“We don’t know that Wally didn’t stop at the grocery store before coming to the bookstore. Did you notice him carrying a bag or anything?”
Chloe shook her head. “But I wasn’t looking. I didn’t know to pay attention to every little detail. How many times do you know that the time you’re talking to someone will be the last time you ever get to speak to them again?” Her eyes filled with tears.
“I know. I just want to get you out of here.”
“The problem isn’t with the food they say he ate; it’s with the coffee.” Which Chloe had made.
“Did he get a second coffee? You know, for someone else?”
“No. I’ve answered all this before.”
“I was just hoping that something else would stand out of the story.”
“Like what?”
“Like he got a coffee and two scones because he was meeting someone.”