Bubble Chum

by Wendy Meadows

  David looks back and forth between the two of us. “If you know something about this case, you better tell me now. If I find out you’re withholding crucial evidence, it will only go against you later.”

  “Tell him, Mom,” Zack repeats.

  I jab my forefinger in his face. “Don’t you dare say a word.”

  “Why won’t you tell him?” Zack roars. “You’re trying to protect him. You’re sacrificing yourself for him. Why? You don’t owe him any allegiance. He’s gonna throw you in jail, Mom. For Heaven’s sake, tell him.”

  David glares at him. “You could be in trouble, too, if you withhold evidence.”

  “This is my fight. I’ll be the one to decide when and who I tell.” I face David. “Let’s go.”

  He snaps the cuffs on my wrists. “You have the right to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you by the court.”

  He marches me toward the door. I whip around to yell over my shoulder. “Call a lawyer, Zack.”

  Sabrina stares after me with enormous eyes. She jolts alert right before I walk through the door. “I know a good lawyer, Margaret. I’ll call him for you.”

  The next minute, David pushes me out of the candy store to his cruiser parked outside. He guides me to the back door this time. He keeps hold of my elbow while he opens it.

  Just before he shoves me into the back, I catch sight of Pauline and Ariel across the street. Ariel’s mouth twists in all the wrong shapes watching David put me in the back seat of his car. While I watch, Pauline puts her arms around the girl’s shoulders and conducts her to another car in front of the bookstore.

  I lower my eyes, and I lose sight of them inside the squad car. I don’t look again. My ears and neck burn when I think about anyone I care about seeing me hauled away in handcuffs.

  I didn’t kill that man. I can’t understand how all the evidence points to me, but I have to prove my innocence somehow. Is this the price I have to pay for solving all those murders—to be accused of murder myself?

  I keep my eyes down while David drives out of town. I might have enjoyed a good reputation in this town before, but that’s all gone now. From now on, no one will be able to think of or talk to me without seeing a murderer. People will whisper and point and turn away when I walk down the street. They won’t let their children come into the candy store anymore—not when I’m working, at least.

  Black despair weighs me down so I don’t watch where I’m going until the car stops. David helps me out of the back and leads me into the station. He sits me in the same chair. “We just need to finish some booking paperwork. Then I’ll fingerprint you and put you in the cell.”

  I don’t say anything. The handcuffs are far more uncomfortable than I realized. I can’t sit back in the seat or relax with them on. Now I understand how humiliating and dehumanizing it is to get arrested—for anything.

  He types up something on his computer. He asks me a bunch of mundane questions about my vital statistics, but he keeps his face impassive and his voice flat. He finally gets up and leads me to a back room behind the office.

  An ice cold hallway leads to a bench against the back wall. Here, he runs my fingertips over an electronic scanner that registers my fingerprints on a computer screen. When he finishes, he presses a button on a remote control. A nearby door pops open.

  David unlocks the cuffs in the doorway. “You’ll stay in here for now. I’ll check on you in a few hours. Do you see that camera up there? The video feed is monitored twenty-four hours a day. If you need anything or anything goes wrong, Officer Tomlinson will see and come in a heartbeat.”

  He puts the cuffs in his pocket and motions into a cell. Four bare white concrete walls surround…absolutely nothing. The cell contains a single bunk, a toilet, and a sink—nothing else. At least it’s warm in there, though.

  He waits for me to enter. Then he shuts the door behind me and the lock clicks into place. I catch a fleeting glimpse of his face through the tiny meshed window before he disappears.

  I sink onto the bunk. This is the end of the world. No one will believe I’m innocent, and now that I’m in jail, no one else will be able to clear my name, either.

  Why did I tell Zack to keep my findings a secret? Why didn’t I tell David what I found out about the candy? Zack was right. I wanted to protect David and Ariel. If an innocent person is going down for Mr. Tripp’s murder, it might as well be me.

  So how did the candy get into the victim’s hotel room? David couldn’t have brought it with him on our date. Why couldn’t he have? Was it in the back seat of the car when he drove me to the Hotel and I just didn’t notice it? Could someone have stolen it out of his car and put it in Mr. and Mrs. Tripp’s room?

  11

  I lie on the bunk in my jail cell. I cover my eyes with my arm to block out the lights, but the environment gives me no peace. I keep obsessing over the case, hour after hour.

  I must be missing something. Who would kill a hapless tourist? The Tripps weren’t from West End. Maybe they knew one of the other hotel guests from out of town. That makes no sense. Someone put the poison syringe in my house. Why? Why would someone go to all that trouble if they weren’t trying to specifically frame me?

  Whoever killed Mr. Tripp knew not only me, but West End. The killer had to know who I was and where I live. They had to harbor some pretty powerful emotions against me to go to those lengths.

  I would say they might not even have known Mr. Tripp. They didn’t have to. The killer could have selected him at random. The killer might not even have known he was on prescription atropine. Maybe they just used that plant extract. The question is how and why they entered his room the night of my date with David. What did they hope to accomplish by that?

  Maybe they knew him after all. Maybe Mr. Tripp was having an affair, and the killer was a jealous husband. So why pin it on me? What did I ever do to the killer to earn their ire?

  Out of nowhere, the door rattles and opens. David Graham fills the threshold. “Someone paid your bail. You’re free to go.”

  I sit up on the bunk, but I don’t want to believe it. What if it turns out to not be true? “Who paid it?”

  He slips his keys into his pocket along with his hand. “I’m not supposed to tell you. She wants it to be anonymous, but it was Sabrina Harris. She and Zack are waiting for you outside.”

  I ease to my feet. Now that the door stands open for me to leave like a real, live human being, I feel the insidious influence of the jail cell reluctant to release its hold on me.

  I migrate to where he waits for me. I stand in front of him and look up at his face. He ought to be familiar to me, but he’s a stranger now. I don’t know how I ever saw him as a friend. “I didn’t kill him, David.”

  He compresses his lips and lowers his gaze to the floor. “Regardless of whatever I may think of you as a person, Margaret, I have a job to do. It’s nothing personal.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” I return. “You’re being awfully conscientious about doing your job.”

  “You have no idea,” he growls. “I did everything I could to give you the benefit of the doubt. It was your own reckless behavior that put me in a position where I couldn’t ignore it any longer.”

  I humph under my breath and barge past him. I don’t want to spend another second in here.

  I make it halfway down the corridor before he calls after me. “You found something, didn’t you? You found something out about that candy. Help me help you. Tell me what it was.”

  I look over my shoulder at him. If we can never be friends again, I still respect him as a cop. No one can deny his incorruptibility. He cares more than anything to see justice done, even if he is barking up the wrong tree.

  “Okay, David. I’ll tell you. I did find out something about that candy. I found out who bought it from my store.”

  He cocks his head to one side. “Who?”

  I study him for a long moment. Should I tel
l him? Should I cast as much suspicion on him as the killer cast on me? I don’t want to do that to someone I care about, but he really wants to know. He better know if he and Ariel are in danger.

  I draw myself up. “It was you, David. You bought that candy from my store.”

  I don’t wait around to see his reaction. I walk out of the station to find Zack and Sabrina waiting for me. Zack throws his arms around me. “Oh, thank God you’re all right.”

  “Was it really awful, Margaret?” Sabrina gasps. “We got you out as fast as we could, but we had to jump through a bunch of hoops to get you bailed.”

  I return their hugs. “Thank you both so much for coming to get me. Let’s get out of here.”

  Zack opens the back door to his car. Just as I’m about to get into it, the station door opens. David runs out and calls, “Margaret!”

  I peer up at him. His features bear an expression I haven’t seen since this case started. His eyes glisten and his mouth quivers with emotion.

  Just then, Zack moves between us to block my view of him. He pushes down on my shoulder to guide me into the car. The next thing I know, he and Sabrina slam the doors and we drive away. We leave David standing there.

  I don’t want to think about him on the way back to my house, but the image of his shattered face won’t leave me in peace. Is it possible this situation was as hard on him as it was on me? If he cared about me as much as he says he did, he must have found it excruciating to investigate me for murder, not to mention arrest me for it.

  Now he knows he screwed up. That’s got to cut pretty deep, but I can’t bring myself to sympathize with him. He put me through the nightmare of my life the last couple of weeks when he knows perfectly well I’m innocent.

  Zack drives home. Simone Peretti, Stacy Koontz, and Patty Matthews wait for us in the living room. They all rush in to hug me at once.

  “I knew you’d get out eventually,” Stacy crows. “You just can’t keep a strong woman down.”

  “What do you want us to do next to clear your name, Margaret?” Patty asks. “We’re going to blow this case wide open.”

  I sink onto the couch. “I don’t want to blow the case wide open right now. I just want to sit down and relax.”

  Zack brings in a tray of hot cocoa for everyone and places a steaming mug in my hands. “You deserve a break, Mom. You’ve been driving yourself too hard the last few weeks.”

  “I finished your gingerbread houses,” Sabrina tells me. “I didn’t know if you would have time, so I just did it. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. Thank you.”

  “There must be a trail of clues we can follow to find the killer,” Patty continues. “Tell us what you found so far. Maybe we can do the investigating for you.”

  Zack and I exchange glances. “All right,” I tell her. “I’m going to tell you what I found, but I don’t want anybody rushing off half-cocked without my approval.”

  “Why not?” Sabrina asks. “If the clues lead to the killer, why wouldn’t you want the person busted for killing Mr. Tripp?”

  “Because the clues lead to Detective Graham,” Zack tells her. “Mom found a box of candy in the victim’s hotel room. It was bought from our candy store on Detective Graham’s credit card.”

  Stacy’s hand flies to her mouth. “That’s impossible! He couldn’t be a killer.”

  “It doesn’t lead to Detective Graham,” I interject. “It leads to Ariel. He bought the candy for her, and the same box wound up in the victim’s room.”

  “That means one of them was in the victim’s room before he died,” Simone points out.

  “They couldn’t be,” Sabrina rejoins. “I don’t believe either one of them killed that man. They couldn’t. For a start, she’s a fifteen-year-old honors student from Hartford. She would have no reason to kill Mr. Tripp.”

  “And he’s only the most honorable Police Detective on the Force,” Stacy adds. “I don’t care what any of you say. He didn’t kill anybody.”

  “I don’t believe either of them killed the victim, either,” I tell her. “I would rather get charged with murder myself than accuse either of them.”

  “If neither of them did it, then who did?” Simone asks. “Who could have left the candy in Mr. Tripp room and then killed him like that?”

  “I was thinking about this when I was in jail,” I tell her. “David bought the candy for Ariel to take on a hike. Then he took me on a date to the Overlook the night before the victim was killed. If Ariel left the candy on the backseat of his car, say, and someone just happened to snatch it from there as an entrée into Mr. Tripp’s room, then the killer could be anybody. There doesn’t necessarily have to be a connection between the killer and Mr. Tripp, or even the killer and David. It could be sheer coincidence.”

  “Don’t do this to us, Mom.” Zack slaps his forehead and groans. “Don’t destroy our only lead.”

  “If you’re right,” Sabrina adds, “then we’re at a dead end. We don’t have any way to connect the candy to the killer.”

  “That’s right,” I reply.

  The others look around at each other. “So that’s it?” Simone asks. “We’re finished? Is this really the end of the line?”

  I haul myself to my feet. “Listen to me, all of you. I really appreciate your support and your offers of help, but right now, I just need to settle into my own house and recover from spending the night in jail. I’ll think about the case some more and see what I can come up with. If I need any help investigating this case, you’ll be the first to know. Right now, though, I just need to putter around my house and weed my garden without thinking about much of anything.”

  I go around the room and hug one person after another. They resist leaving, but I herd them to the door promising to inform them as soon as I find any lead to chase.

  One by one, they depart to their own lives and businesses. Each one promises some nugget to help me out, but I listen with only half an ear. I want to be alone right now, and the case is the last thing in the world I want to think about.

  Sabrina leaves last. After she hugs me, she pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll handle the rest of the prep for the Carnival, Margaret. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

  “I want to help out with the Carnival, Sabrina,” I tell her. “I’ll be back at work tomorrow and we’ll finish our display. That will be the perfect distraction for me to get back on my horse.”

  She turns away. “You know where I’ll be. You come and find me when you’re ready to do it. Until then, I’ll keep working on the display so we make a good showing at the Carnival. We won’t let this dampen our plans.”

  “Thank you for everything.” I put my arms around her. “It’s a relief to know I have so many people in this town pulling for me.”

  She heads back to town. I shut my front door to find Zack standing next to me. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Mom? I’m worried about you.”

  “Why are you worried about me?” I ask. “I’m just fine—never better.”

  “It’s all this stuff about Detective Graham. I’m worried that you’re putting his interests ahead of your own. You’re taking the fall to protect him from suspicion.”

  “It’s like Stacy said,” I tell him. “I don’t believe he had anything to do with Mr. Tripp’s death, and as far as me protecting him from suspicion, I’m not doing that. I told him just before I left the station. He knows the candy came from him. He knows everything I know now.”

  He blinks at me. “He does?”

  “Yes, he does. He knows enough to follow the trail of breadcrumbs as well as I can. Now can we please drop it? I don’t want to talk about the case anymore.”

  I walk away from him. I go to the bathroom. I mess around in the kitchen for a while. Then I go out to the garden. I get busy cleaning up the dead leaves and plants rotting in my flowerbeds. I haven’t spent nearly enough time gardening lately. I let myself get pulled away by so many other distractions.

  I go to th
e shed and get out my pruners. I slip into my galoshes and gardening gloves. I put on my coat and scarf and go through the gate to the front yard.

  I wave to Kyle Davidson and Jonah across the street, and Kyle waves back before they go inside. A brisk wind whips down the street and shakes the bare tree branches.

  I get lost in the peaceful quiet of working outside. Even the harsh New England cold offers its soothing tranquility. I don’t have to think about the case. I can just enjoy the elements and the soothing now of pruning my rosebushes. I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to appreciate this.

  I clip the long stems off and pile them near the sidewalk. I’m already planning on going to the back yard to get my leaf tarp to carry the branches to the green waste.

  I crouch down to rake the dead leaves away from the bush stem when something hard lands against the back of my skull. A splitting pain explodes through my brain, and a horrible pit of nausea stabs into my guts.

  I try to stand up, but my head spins in agony. I blink the stars out of my eyes, but blackness descends over me and wipes out all awareness. I topple over on my side and fall into unconsciousness.

  12

  I wake up in darkness. A shaft of soft grey light streams into a dingy basement from a window high above my head. I wince in pain when I try to sit up. My head aches, and I can’t move my arms.

  It takes me a minute to put the events together into a coherent sequence. I was working in my garden. Now I’m sitting on a filthy basement floor with my hands tied behind my back and a gag in my mouth.

  I wriggle against my bonds, but they hold me tight. Even the gag is tied in place too tightly to budge it. Where am I? Who kidnapped me this time? The basement gives nothing away. I’ve never seen it before in my life.

  Dust-covered shelves of old bottles and random empty crates line the walls. The only window sits high up one wall, too high for me to reach even if I could get to my feet.