by Amber Crewes
Debbie nodded. “Apparently he hadn’t paid Lori in weeks, and she lost her senses and stole from him instead of getting a lawyer. She needed money for food and to pay the rent back to Norman that he charged her, his own daughter! Vince told me that when Norman found out, he scolded her so badly in front of customers, and he even threatened to kick her out of the house.”
Meghan gnashed her teeth, unsure of what to think about the new information.
“Anyway, Vince said to keep it under wraps, but I thought you should know.”
With that, Debbie stood from her chair, gave Meghan a stiff hug, and scuttled out of the bakery.
“Lori stole from Norman because he mistreated her at home and at work,” Meghan said slowly to herself, trying to make sense of what Debbie had told her. “Lori is a suspect, too.”
Later that day, the silver bells attached to the front door chimed, as Meghan’s jaw clenched as Lori Butcher walked through the front door of Truly Sweet.
“Hi, Meghan,” Lori said timidly, her hands pressed together in front of her waist. “Can we talk?”
Meghan nodded, and pointed to one of the dainty white tables. “Have a seat. I’ll get you something to eat.” A flush crept up Lori’s neck, and Meghan decided it would be unwise to give anything to another Butcher.
“What can I do for you, Lori?” she asked, taking a seat across from the nervous girl. Lori rocked back and forth, and she nibbled on her upper lip as Meghan stared at her.
“Lori?”
Lori took a deep breath. “Is that job still available?”
Meghan nearly let out a laugh at the audacity of Lori’s question. “Lori,” she answered with amusement. “I’m a suspect in your father’s murder case. The police think I poisoned him. I know I didn’t do it, and I hope you don’t think I did. But regardless, I don’t know if it’s best that we spend time together right now, let alone work together.”
Lori’s face crumpled. “I need the job, Meghan,” she whimpered. “My father is dead, and the funeral plans have been so expensive. I don’t have access to all of his accounts and information, and without some help, I can’t even afford to eat three meals a day.”
Meghan’s heart softened, and she saw the fear in Lori’s eyes. “Lori,” she said, racking her brain for a solution. “I have to think about it, and I need to talk with the police. There’s so much going on right now, and I just don’t know….”
“Please,” Lori whispered, her eyes red and her shoulders sagging. “Please.”
When Lori left moments later, Meghan immediately called Karen for advice. After explaining the odd visit from Lori, Karen offered Meghan some advice.
“The right thing to do would be to hire her,” she said as Meghan groaned. “If she is really in need, then you’ll be doing a good deed. And if she isn’t….well...perhaps it’s a good idea to keep her close by…”
“Don’t do it, Meghan!”
Meghan heard Debbie in the background.
“Debbie’s here, let me put her on speakerphone,” Karen said as Meghan heard a click of buttons.
“Meghan, remember what we talked about when I visited? Lori stole from Norman! She’s a suspect! Keeping her around is a terrible idea. You can’t afford to hire her, either. As your self-appointed financial advisor, I am strongly encouraging you to disregard what my aunt is telling you and to not hire Lori.”
“Oh, hush, you!” Karen said to Debbie. “You need to do more yoga. Yoga makes you kind and giving, which is what Meghan needs to be to Lori! Meghan, sweetie, hire Lori. You’ll be helping her out, which is good karma for you, and you can keep an eye on her.”
“Don’t listen to her….” Debbie shrieked as the phone call cut off. Meghan wrung her hands together and took a deep breath.
“Being accused of murder one day, then hiring a murder suspect,” Meghan murmured as she reached for the phone to dial Lori. “Who knows what will be next for Truly Sweet?”
7
MEGHAN STARED INTO THE MOUNTAIN of whipped cream foam atop her large, whole milk, caramel mocha latte as she and Karen chatted away. Karen had shown up to take Meghan for girl talk and a cup of coffee, as they used to in LA, and both women were surprised when Debbie showed up.
“You just can’t give up,” Karen had been saying as Debbie marched in. “You’re too fabulous to quit, Meghan. Believe in yourself.”
“There you two are!” Debbie said. “I have some news for you,” she announced, wagging her index finger at Meghan. “A little birdie told me that there might just be another suspect in this thing.”
Meghan squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn’t ready for another intense discussion about the case; she and Karen had been talking about the murder all morning at the coffee shop, and Debbie’s interruption made Meghan anxious.
“Jamie Cruise. Have you met him? He’s the handyman in town? Quiet? Kind of dirty? Anyway, rumor is that he had some gripes with Norman Butcher, and if you’ve seen Jamie, you know that he looks like he could kill.”
Karen held up a hand, and her expression hardened. “Debbie!” Karen chastised. “I am embarrassed that any niece of mine would judge a book by its cover. Jamie Cruise is a good man; I used to babysit for him when I was a teenager, and I know that he could never kill anyone. Who did you hear from that Jamie is a suspect?”
Debbie’s face darkened. “I have my sources,” she said, tossing her hair behind her back and raising her chin. “Anyway, I’m just saying it would be unwise to overlook Jamie Cruise. He’s the perfect suspect, Meghan.”
Meghan crossed her arms across her chest. “Jamie didn’t kill Norman Butcher,” she declared, shrugging her shoulders and leaning back in her seat. “I know he didn’t.”
Debbie raised both eyebrows and her forehead wrinkled. “What do you know about Jamie Cruise?”
Meghan took a sip of her latte. “Lori Butcher told me who he was,” she said, wiping the whipped cream from her upper lip as she finished her drink. “He was at the tea shop when I visited. Lori mentioned that he was a good handyman, and when I needed some things done around the bakery, I gave him a call.”
Karen nodded. “He helped Meghan rewire the back ovens,” she explained to Debbie. “He’s been a fabulous help. Isn’t he coming back by tomorrow to finish off the leak in the dishwasher, Meghan, dear?”
“He’ll be by before ten,” Meghan agreed, watching Debbie’s face lose its color. “Debbie? Why are you fixated on Jamie?”
Debbie pursed her lips. “I just have a bad feeling about him,” she explained. “Vince Fisher dropped some more information to me, and mentioned that Norman hadn’t been paid for some work he did at the tea shop. I think that sounds like a motive don’t you?”
Meghan’s eyes widened, but Karen shook her head. “No,” she stated, frowning at her niece. “I know Jamie Cruise and his family. He’s a good man, Debbie. Come by tomorrow and see for yourself. He’ll be by in the morning, and you can grill him all you want.”
Debbie scowled as she rose from the table. “I’m just trying to help you,” she insisted. “If Vince Fisher is giving me information, we should use it. Anyway, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
Meghan and Karen watched as Debbie strode out of the coffee shop. “That was tense,” Meghan said under her breath. “What’s her deal?”
Karen rolled her eyes. “My niece can be uppity; she seems to dislike anyone who doesn’t share her affinity for designer clothes and fancy things. I don’t know what Vince Fisher thinks he’s doing by dropping information to my niece, but her blaming Jamie Cruise is ridiculous. Jamie is a good man, and a little dirt on his boots didn’t kill anyone.”
The next morning, Jamie walked into the bakery only moments before Debbie came marching in.
“Good morning, Meghan. Karen, good to see you.”
Karen reached to kiss Jamie’s cheek. “Good morning to you, Jamie! How ya been?”
Jamie frowned. “Not real good,” he admitted. “This Norman Butcher mess is causing a real stir around town, isn
’t it?”
Meghan watched Jamie’s face for any indication of emotion; she felt it was strange that he had brought up the murder, and she wondered why he would discuss such a twisted event instead of making polite small talk.
“Is Debbie onto something?” Meghan thought to herself as Karen and Jamie chatted. “Did Jamie have something to do with Norman Butcher’s death? It seems odd that he would instantly bring up the murder….I wonder…”
“Hello!”
Meghan turned to see Debbie walking through the front door, the silver bells chiming furiously.
“Aunt Karen. Meghan. Mr. Cruise. Hello!”
Jamie stiffened. “You can just call me Jamie,” he said as he stared down at his shoes.
Debbie nodded. “Sure thing. Anyway, I hear that you’re helping in the bakery today, Jamie?”
Jamie looked at Meghan and smiled. “She’s been giving me some good business,” he said, gesturing at Meghan. “She pays me and sends me home with treats! I can’t complain about that.”
Debbie took a step closer to Jamie, her eyebrow raised. “So, she pays you, huh? It’s good to be paid, isn’t it?”
Jamie cocked his head to the side. “Yes? Almost all of my customers in Sandy Bay have been good about paying me on time.”
Debbie folded her arms at her side. “Almost?”
The color drained from Jamie’s face. “This is about Mr. Butcher, isn’t it?” he whispered. “I told the police that Norman hadn’t paid me. He and I had some words the week before he died, but I wouldn’t kill anyone over some late bills.”
Karen glared at her niece. “Debbie, that is enough,” she hissed.
“Now that you mention Norman Butcher, I’m just curious, Jamie,” Debbie continued, disregarding Karen’s furious expression. “Where were you at the time of the murder?”
Meghan gasped. Debbie’s questioning was so direct; Meghan suspected it was from Debbie’s years on the East Coast, but she felt uncomfortable as Debbie demanded answers from Jamie.
“I’ll tell you what I told the police,” he said, his eyes dark. “I was helping Kirsty Fisher prepare the convention center for the food festival this weekend. Just ask Kirsty.”
Debbie breathed loudly out of her nose, but Meghan could see she was forcing herself to hold her smile. “Ahhh! How nice. Kirsty is such a dear.”
“Aren’t you taking food down to the food festival, Meghan?” Karen asked. “That’ll be such a good way to rehabilitate your image and help Truly Sweet get back on top.”
Meghan nodded. “A few days before the murder, Kirsty Fisher asked me to set up a booth. I know a lot has happened, but I haven’t heard anything that suggests I’m disinvited so….”
“So you’ll be there! How wonderful that will be.” Karen declared.
“I might just give Kirsty Fisher a little call to check on your story,” Debbie said, staring at Jamie. “The food festival is one of Sandy Bay’s best events, and it seems a little strange that Kirsty would reach out to you for help.”
Jamie shook his head. “I think I’m going to get out of here for today. I’ll come back tomorrow, Meghan. Karen, good to see you. Goodbye, girls.”
As Jamie walked out of Truly Sweet, Karen turned Debbie. “How could you act like that?” she shouted. “Jamie is shy and kind, and you embarrassed him! He’s working for Meghan, and you had no business being so rude, Debbie.”
Debbie furrowed her brow. “I’m trying to help Meghan solve this murder, Aunt Karen!” she declared. “It’s important that we talk to everyone involved, and Vince told me that Jamie was being watched.”
Karen gritted her teeth. “Jamie just said he was with Vince’s wife, Kirsty, during the murder. Did Vince mention that to you?”
“Well,” Debbie sputtered. “He may have mentioned it, but I wanted to talk to him anyway. He’s so filthy, and I just know that he’s up to no good.”
Karen and Debbie glowered at each other, and Meghan moved to stand between the two angry women. “Hey,” Meghan said softly. “Let’s all calm down. Debbie, it’s sweet of you to care about my business and me, but I think we should just let the police take it from here. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, and I think Jamie felt bad while you talked to him this morning.”
Debbie stared at Meghan. “But, Meghan,” she pleaded. “It’s your business! Do you want to lose it all? I’m just trying to help.”
Karen fixed her eyes on her niece. “Debbie,” she said sternly. “We’re all going to back off for a bit and give this thing some time to settle. Poor Jamie was embarrassed, and it’s time we step back. The police are involved, and we need to let them do their jobs.”
Debbie’s eyes grew large. “Fine,” she said after pausing for a moment. “We’ll take a break. But keep in mind that the murderer is still on the loose. I just don’t want to be the unlucky fool who gets killed next.”
8
“JUST KEEP MOVING,” Meghan grunted to herself as she hauled herself forward on the running trail. “Breathe, move, head up.”
Meghan had risen before sunrise to run, and now that she was nearly a mile into the workout, she was struggling to maintain her pace; it had been months since Meghan had put on her running shoes, but after a fitful night of sleep, she had set an early alarm in hopes that the run would clear her mind.
“Three miles left, three miles left,” she chanted to herself as she swung her hips in rhythm with her steps.
As Meghan ran, she thought about her tumultuous time in Sandy Bay. She had never been at the center of any sort of scandal before; the only time Meghan Truman had ever been disliked was when she won a spot on the homecoming court her sophomore year in high school, making her then-best friend maddeningly jealous. The odd sensation of being scorned by the entire town in Sandy Bay was unfamiliar, and Meghan struggled to focus on her workout as she navigated the jogging path that cut through Sandy Bay Woods.
“Who could have killed Norman?” she thought to herself as her mind drifted from the pop playlist playing through her headphones. “Lori? Jamie? A disgruntled customer? Who could it have been?”
Meghan racked her brain for answers, but she couldn’t think of anyone; she hardly knew anyone in Sandy Bay, and there was no obvious suspect, at least in her mind. She didn’t think Lori had killed Norman; Lori was so timid and innocent, and while Meghan had no evidence to prove Lori didn’t kill her father, Meghan’s gut instinct told her to let Lori be.
Two miles into the run, Meghan’s phone died, putting an end to the fast-paced, loud pop playlist she had been listening to.
“Ugh,” she lamented, stuffing her phone in the pocket of her shorts. “I guess it’s just me out here, then.”
It wasn’t just Meghan; as she pumped her arms and willed her aching legs to move, she heard the crackle of leaves behind her. The sun was beginning to rise, but an ominous fog covered the trail. Meghan glanced back, hearing the pounding of unfamiliar footsteps behind her, but as she tilted her head toward the noise, she saw no one.
“Weird,” she thought, turning back to the path in front of her. The footsteps grew louder, and Meghan could sense the presence of another person. She jerked her head around, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark figure looming behind her. Meghan began to sprint, forcing her feet to cycle faster and faster over the pavement, but the dark figure picked up speed as well.
Out of nowhere, Meghan’s legs fell out from beneath her, and she tumbled to the ground. She started screaming as the black figure drew closer, and she reached for the towel and water bottle she had tucked into her shorts before leaving for her run. She reared back her arm and hurled the items at the dark figure, howling in fear as she realized she was completely alone.
As the water bottle hit the dark figure, Meghan continued to scream. The dark figure stopped only feet from Meghan, turning around to run in the direction they had both come from. Meghan heard a small clink as the dark figure disappeared into the darkness of the early morning, and she stood from her place on
the pavement.
“Ouch,” she whimpered, feeling a sharp pain in her ankle. She hobbled to where the stalker had stopped. On the pavement was a familiar-looking key, and Meghan picked it up to examine it.
“What is this?” Meghan whispered. She squinted, looking at the small key.
“Hey!”
Meghan turned around and found Jack Irvin staring at her. He was dressed in running attire, and a panting dog sat dutifully at his feet.
“What are you doing out here? It’s practically the middle of the night.” Jack said, looking quizzically at Meghan as she surreptitiously tucked the key into her pocket.
“Same thing you’re doing, I guess,” she said, her heart still pounding from the encounter with the dark figure. She thought about mentioning the dark figure to Jack, but decided against it; she knew Jack was leery of her, and she didn’t want to make him even more suspicious with talk of a strange, dark figure in the woods. “I wanted to get a run in.”