by Zoe Arden
I searched my brain for a wiseacre comment appropriate for the situation, but nothing sprang to mind.
"Yes," I finally said. "I did."
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CHAPTER
ELEVEN
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I fought back the urge to raise my voice, lowering it instead as I barraged Damon with question after question. "Where have you been? Do you know who killed Grace Beyers? Why were you holding the knife that killed her?"
He grinned at me but the fatigue in his eyes was evident. "One question at a time."
"All right. Do you know who killed Grace Beyers?" I resisted the urge to wrinkle my nose, uncertain whether the smell I'd detected was coming from him or from the dumpster.
"Yes. But no one's going to believe me."
"I will."
"Then you'll be the only one."
The quiet was deafening. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been about you? I should lock you up, so you can't sneak away again!"
"Why are you mad at me? I didn't do anything."
"Why am I..." My voice trailed off. I couldn't believe Damon sometimes. Had he always been such a goof? I ticked off the answers on my fingers. "For showing up unannounced, here and at the bridal shop. For skipping out on lunch with me. For getting framed for murder."
"You're blaming me for getting framed?" he asked, incredulous.
"Why not? Wherever you go, trouble follows."
He laughed. "That's so cliché, and it's not even true. And you know it."
I smiled impishly.
"Besides," he continued. "If trouble follows anyone around here, it's you."
I rolled my eyes, but I didn't disagree with him. "Just tell me who killed Grace."
He drew in a deep breath. "My boss at the warehouse. Kip Burch."
"Kip Burch," I said, letting the name roll off my tongue. It left a sour note on my taste buds.
"Why do you think he killed her?"
"You already said it. He's trying to frame me."
"Yeah, but why? Because you saw that merman-werewolf thing?"
"That's right."
I felt something at my ankle and looked down.
"Tuna, now?" Snowball asked.
Damon looked sheepishly at me. "I promised her some tuna if she went and got you for me. I was afraid to go around front, afraid someone might spot me."
"Good call. We just had half of Maine in there, though I doubt they'd know you from Jack the Ripper." I opened the back door for Snowball and told her the tuna was in her bowl on the floor. She hurried in, eager for her reward.
"What about the knife?" I asked. "Why were you holding it when the lights came back on? How did you even know I'd be at Bridal Barista in the first place?"
He sighed. "I didn't know. I went to the bakery, saw you leave with your aunts, and followed you. When the lights went out, I panicked. I thought it was Burch, that he'd found me. I flew past you and tripped over something on the ground. Turned out it was Grace Beyers, but I didn't know that till the lights came back on."
"And you just decided to pull the knife out of her chest?" I asked skeptically? "How heroic."
"No," he said testily. "Before the lights came back on, someone shoved me hard in the back. I felt them push something into my hand, but I didn't know it was the knife until the lights were up."
"You're saying someone physically placed the knife in your hand?" I asked.
He nodded. "Well, I guess they sort of shoved it at me and my hand instinctively grabbed for it."
"Those are some bad instincts. What if it had been a rattlesnake they were shoving at you?"
"Well next time I'll tell my instincts to go take a nap and leave things alone."
He stood with his hands in his pocket, kicking at a stone with the toe of his shoe.
"So, what's the plan?" I asked him.
He blinked at me. "Plan? I don't have a plan. I've had a hard enough time just keeping out of sight the last few days."
"Well, if your boss really framed you—"
"If? What do you mean if?" He shook his head. "I knew you wouldn't believe me. I should never have come here." He started walking off.
"Hey!" I said, running after him. "I believe you. I just meant we can't be sure it was Burch. Just because your boss looks guilty doesn't mean he is. Someone else could've done it. You look pretty darn guilty right now to most people, but you're not."
He paused. "Are you sure you don't think I did it?"
"I'm sure," I told him. And I was. Except for one thing nagging at the back of my mind.
"What about the picture?" I asked.
"What picture?"
"Of Grace Beyers. The cops found one under your mattress."
His eyes widened. "They found a picture of Grace under my bed?"
He shrugged. "I have no idea how it got there. Burch probably planted it. I've never met her before that day at the bridal shop, and in case you didn't notice, we didn't exactly hit it off."
My head was hurting.
"All right," he said, his temper rising and falling like the tides. "So. what's your big plan?"
"Me? What makes you think I have a plan?"
He flashed me that grin. "Because I know you too well. You've been staying up nights thinking about this, haven't you?"
"Maybe just a little," I admitted. "But I only have a few ideas.”
"That's more than I've got."
"First of all, did you know that Grace Beyers real name wasn't Beyers? It was Kendall. Beyers was an alias."
He shrugged. "I didn't even know her first name until I read it in the paper, let alone her alias versus real name versus whatever. Are you sure she didn't change it when she got married?"
"I saw a report on Sheriff Knoxx's desk. She was single."
"That doesn't mean much. Lots of people go by different names. Maybe she was an actress."
"Maybe," I said doubtfully. "What can you tell me about your boss?"
"Not much. I only worked at Standards Warehouse for a couple of weeks before this happened. He's kind of a hard guy to get to know. Real gruff. Doesn't strike me as a people person."
"What's he doing leading a group of people, then? Shouldn't they have someone more personable in charge?"
"Yeah, I'll make sure to pass that message along to the higher-ups."
He rolled his eyes.
I folded my arms across my chest.
"Go over the basement stuff again. Did that thing you saw try to attack you?"
"No, it just sort of wandered around looking lost."
"What did you do after you got out?"
"After I saw that... thing... in the basement, I called Burch up and told him what had happened. He acted like he knew all about it, then when he got there, he told me I was crazy. Fired me on the spot."
"What did you do?"
"I went home and started looking for a new job. The next day, though, I noticed someone following me. And when I went out for coffee, someone ransacked my place."
"Someone broke in?" I asked, alert.
"That's right. Tore my place apart."
"Looking for what?"
"I don't know. Maybe Burch was afraid I had something. A picture or something of that... that thing."
My mind was racing. The hair on my neck was prickling.
"That's not all though," he said. "Someone tried to kill me."
My eyes widened. "What? When? Are you okay?"
"The same day my apartment was broken into. I left my cell at home when I went for the coffee, and they broke it into pieces. I went to call the police from the coffee shop, and on my way there, someone tried to run me down with their car."
"Did you see the driver?"
"No."
"Are you sure it wasn't an accident? A tourist or—"
"When they missed the first time, they came back around and tried it again."
I felt sick to my stomach.
I had to do something fast; I couldn't let someone just kill Damon. There had to be a solution. I bit my bottom lip as the only idea that made sense popped into my head. Well, it made sense to me, but would Damon see it that way?
Damon was still talking. "Another guard I worked with, Gordie Peterman, has worked at Standard for twenty years. I called him when my place got busted into. He told me that the day after Burch fired me, he had some sort of cleaning crew down in the basement at the warehouse the whole day. Wouldn't let anyone near it."
"A cleaning crew?" I asked.
"That's what Burch said, but whoever heard of a cleaning crew that carried guns and wands?"
"They had wands? You mean, they were witches?"
"Sounds like it to me. Witches and wizards in a warehouse full of humans. Gordie said they told him to watch the main door leading downstairs and shoot anyone who tried to get past."
I started circling the alley, walking from brick wall to brick wall. "I think you should turn yourself in," I finally said, lifting my eyes to meet his.
A tiny laugh escaped his lips. "You're not serious."
"I am." I could tell by his expression he was going to be a hard sell. "Look, if someone's really after you, then the police can help."
"How much sugar have you eaten today? If I turn myself in, the cops will throw me in jail. They think I killed Grace Beyers, Kendall, whatever."
"Then turn yourself over to Colt. You can skip the cops and go straight to COMHA. Come inside with me, and I'll call him now." Damon was already shaking his head no. "He'll protect you," I told him.
"You mean, he'll break me in two," Damon said, backing away. "He hates me, Ava."
"He doesn't hate you, "I said, averting my eyes. "Not really." I knew Colt wouldn't be too happy with me when I called him, but he could hardly blame me for this. I had no idea that Damon was going to turn up at the bakery. He couldn't get mad at me over it. Could he?
Damon started away from me, inching toward the opening at the end of the alley. He pulled a dark gray hoodie up over his head, covering as much of his face as he could.
"Just tell him your place got broken into," I said. "That's proof you have someone after you. Proof you know something, or at least someone thinks you know something."
"I shouldn't have come here," he said.
"Damon, wait! Let me help."
"You don't believe me at all, do you?" he asked, hurt.
"No, I do."
"Just stay away from me, Ava. I'll make sure to stay away from you."
There was a noise from behind me. I jumped and turned around as Trixie came into the alley carrying a bag of trash.
"There you are," she said. "We were wondering where you ran off to."
I turned back around, and Damon was gone. I let out a heavy, silent sigh.
"Ava? Everything okay?"
"Yeah. I was just tossing out some burnt cookies, so the bakery wouldn't smell."
"Burnt cookies?" Trixie said crossly. "It must have been Eleanor. She's the only one who ever burns anything." She paused, holding the door open.
"Coming?" she asked.
"Yeah, right behind you."
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CHAPTER
TWELVE
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I sat up in bed, stroking Snowball's soft fur. It was softer than cotton and gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside every time I touched it.
"You did good today, Snowball," I told her. She made soft mewing noises and rubbed her head over my hand, then flopped over on the bed and started rolling around as if her back needed scratching.
"Snowball helped Mama."
"How did Damon find you?" I asked her.
"Damon did not find Snowball; Snowball found Damon."
"You found Damon?" I asked, excited. "How?" If she found Damon once, chances were good that she could find him again.
I hadn't said a word about my meeting with Damon to my aunts or anyone else. If he'd turned himself in like I suggested, then I wouldn't have had to worry. The chances of anyone getting to him inside the sheriff's station or COMHA headquarters was slim to nil, but he hadn't turned himself in. He'd run. Again. I couldn't—wouldn't—risk exposing him to a murderer when he had only himself for protection.
"Damon smelled like tuna," Snowball said. "Snowball loves tuna. Snowball got his scent and followed it because Snowball was hungry."
I remembered the stench in the alley when I'd talked to Damon. I'd thought that it was just the dumpster. I guess I'd been wrong.
"You were hungry? Didn't I leave you enough food this morning?"
Snowball licked my hand. "Mama gave enough food, but Snowy was bored and went exploring. Snowy not at home when Snowy got hungry."
"I see. So, where were you?"
"Snowball went to beach for sun and fish."
"Sweetland Beach?" I asked. "By yourself?"
"Tootsie and Rocky were with Snowball, but they wanted bacon, not fish. They went to butcher man; Snowball went to fish man."
"Fish man?" I asked, thinking of Damon's description of a creature half-merman, half-werewolf. "What did he look like?"
I rubbed her belly and Snowball's purring trebled. She rolled over onto her belly and jumped up, looking me in the face like we were having a staring contest. Her tail curled up like a question mark.
"Fish man was bald and greasy and smelled like fish. He stands at beach all day and yells to people to buy his fish. Snowball likes him. He looks like a pirate."
"Do you mean one of the fishmongers?"
Snowball nodded. "Snowy thinks Damon lives by fish man. They smelled the same. Snowball saw them talking."
"You saw them talking?" I asked.
She stretched her front legs out and yawned, then gave her face one quick wipe with a paw.
"Snowy goes to find Tootsie now. Tootsie owes Snowy a game of tag." She jumped off my bed and walked out of the room, tail swishing elegantly from side to side. Apparently, our conversation was over.
I rolled off my bed, looking a lot like Snowball, I imagined, and went to my dresser. In the top drawer, I had a map of the island I'd picked up when I'd first arrived here. I was certain nothing much had changed since then.
I looked at Sweetland Beach. The fishmongers tended to line up at the end of the pier, where the road met the sand. It wasn't just fishmongers, though. Men and women lined both sides of the road, one side for the tourists, the other for the locals. The tourists got pretzels, popcorn, starfish, jewelry made from seashells, and a host of other things meant to titillate and delight. The locals got fresh fish, fruit, and vegetables.
It was like a Farmer's Market, but Sweetland Cove made it all its own with the odd bit of magic thrown in, hidden in plain sight. During the week, things remained relatively quiet, but on the weekend, jugglers defied gravity by throwing oranges and bowling balls fifty feet in the air and catching them without missing a beat. Stilt walkers towered inexplicably over the crowds, so light they seemed to be floating.
It was a fun place to be. If you wanted a quieter beach scene, all you had to do was go a little further down. The good thing about Heavenly Haven was that it was a small island, which meant everything was beach.
"There," I said to myself, pointing to a spot on the map. The map had been made for tourists and labeled to make things easy for them to find. The label I was pointing at said Fish, Fruit, Veggies. Arrows jutted out from the right and left, ending in a squiggly line to illustrate where that section of the beach market stopped and the next began.
My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it off my nightstand. It was Colt.
LUNCH TMRW?
I hesitated before sending a reply. The beach market was usually best to hit in the mornings and afternoons, before things got picked over and the vendors cleared out for the evening.
I sent Colt back a message asking what time. He replied with twelve.
MAKE IT 1?
> A minute later, my phone buzzed again.
SEE U THEN.
That ought to give me enough time to get away from the bakery, get down to the beach, and see what I could find. If I was right, Damon was hiding out in plain sight, just like a lot of things in Heavenly Haven. If I was wrong... well, then I'd end up with a bag of fresh produce and some fish. Not exactly the end of the world. The worst I could lose was my time, and since it was mine to lose, it didn't much matter. I was going to find Damon... even if he didn't want to be found.
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CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
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I looked up and down the road—it wasn't really a road, it was more of a walking path, no cars were allowed—watching the tourists and locals languidly walk through the market with their flip-flops and shorts. To the left were the sand and the water. To the right a parking lot, which led to the road where the cars were allowed to go.
It was late Monday morning and relatively quiet. The people who had come to the island for a weekend getaway had already returned home, and those who'd decided to linger were tired from their weekend escapade.
A noise to my left caught my attention. I turned my head and saw a bird drop out of the sky, making a beeline for a tall woman with an updo that looked kind of like a bird's nest. The bird opened its mouth, screeched at her, then dipped even further down with its claws extended. The woman screeched back at it, covering her head as her knees buckled and she dropped to the sand.
The bird looked at her with a mischievous glint in its eye, and I could have sworn it winked at me. It sailed off, its caw sounding like laughter.
I shook my head as the woman stood up, staring after the bird. Her friends surrounded her, asking if she was okay. The animals on Heavenly Haven were as unpredictable as the people, though sometimes I thought they had a better sense of humor.