by K. M. Waller
Gladys had a lot of useful information, but something about the way she eyed me with suspicion told me she didn’t believe my lie about how I’d found Pip. Or that I might be a psychic. She didn’t trust me.
“So do you have any real knowledge about what happened last night?” she asked.
Mossy had asked me to not say anything and for now I’d keep to that. “No.”
Disappointment flooded her features.
“Do you know where this address is?” I asked, changing the subject by opening the book to the inside front cover.
“Of course. Will you be driving or walking?”
“Walking.”
“You’ll find there isn’t much to Lilac Cove. There’s the square, and then a half-mile that way,” she pointed to the area behind me, “is the beach. The police station and city hall are a good hike to the right once you walk out the door. All the housing communities are to the left. The streets signs and house numbers are clear as day once you start walking a straight path down the sidewalk. There are only about seven hundred people who live here, so if you get lost anyone will be able to set you straight.”
“Thank you for your help, Gladys.” I followed her out the door and she waved at me with the back of her hand.
I headed in the direction she’d indicated, but I still hadn’t a clue as to how I’d help solve John Bleaker’s murder, or to convince the police that Mossy couldn’t possibly be involved.
Chapter Eight
I crossed against the crosswalk light since I’d been standing on the corner for several minutes without seeing a single car and the light had refused to budge even though I pushed the little knob over and over.
A prickle started at the base of my spine and traveled toward my neck. I turned my head to find the man with the scar from the evening before leaned against a silver sedan. He was parked in front of a store that said Liam’s Hardware.
I quickened my pace and, after a few steps, snuck another look in his direction. He didn’t smile or wave or acknowledge me in any way other than to stare. I made a mental note to ask Mossy and the police chief about him when I saw them next. The scar would be distinct enough that if he were a resident of Lilac Cove, they’d know him. In the meantime, if he even moved like he would approach me, I’d put the Converse to good use and run.
Pip chittered in a series of clicks. The staring man made him nervous too. I gave him a reassuring pat on the head.
After two blocks of residential area, I found the street that belonged to Olivia. I double-checked the numbers on the house with the ones scribbled inside the book. She’d said I could meet her after four in the afternoon. From the position of the sun, the way I’d been taught to tell time in the fairy realm, I put the time at four fifteen.
I’d slept on Mossy’s couch much longer than I’d first realized. What a waste of my first day.
Olivia and her uncle lived in a one-story stucco home painted a light blue with a two-car garage. The other homes on the street matched the style with different colors such as yellow and tan. The grass crunched with each step until I reached the walkway in front of the door.
I knocked four times before I pressed the doorbell.
Callan snatched open the door after the third doorbell ring with a, “What the heck do you want?”
He wore a wrinkled T-shirt and striped pajama bottoms. His blonde hair was mussed and fell over his forehead, giving him a boyish charm. The scowl on this face, however, did not.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did I wake you?”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “I work twelve-hour shifts as dispatch, so I sleep most of the day. What can I do for you?”
I lifted the book. “I came to return this to Olivia.”
“She’s grounded.” He reached for the book, but I pulled it back against my chest.
“I, um, was hoping she could show me around town. She’s been the friendliest person I’ve met so far.”
My comment about friendly people hit him and his expression softened. “Emory caught her trying to sneak into John’s this morning before school, so she won’t be going anywhere for a while. She’s not allowed out of her room.”
Sherlock would start from the crime scene, too. Very smart of Olivia, but also dangerous for a child. I should go there next, if I could find my way back.
Callan waited for me to say something more. Probably goodbye. But he was the one who suggested I speak to the chief, so perhaps he had other useful advice I could rely upon. “The police chief took my aunt for questioning early this morning. She’s not back yet. I have to help her if I can.”
“I heard.” He straightened and moved to the side, running a hand through his hair. “Why don’t you come in for a cup of coffee, and I’ll tell you what I know.”
“Thank you.” I followed him through a small foyer and through a modest living room to the kitchen.
“Have a seat.” He gestured to a round kitchen table with four chairs. “How do you like your coffee?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had coffee.” I could tell Pip had fallen asleep again, so I set my bag gently on the floor beside my feet.
“Where did you say you were from?”
“I didn’t, really.” I noticed a picture on the wall with a younger Olivia sitting in a woman’s lap. “Is that Olivia’s mom?”
“Yeah. She died a year ago, and Olivia came to live with me.”
“Where is her father?”
“He’s a deadbeat. We don’t talk about him.”
“I don’t mean to pry. She’s a very smart girl.”
“Too smart.”
I sipped the coffee and cringed. “Oh, that’s bitter.”
He chuckled and opened the refrigerator. “I suggest condensed milk and sugar to start.”
After he poured in milk from a can and added a spoonful of sugar, I tried it again. “Mm. Much better. Olivia told me you used to be a detective, but now you work dispatch for the police station.”
He sat in the chair opposite me and took a long drag of his coffee. “I worked the criminal investigations division in Atlanta for a few years. A few years were all it took to wear me down.”
“There’s a lot of bad in the world,” I agreed. “But my aunt’s not one of those people. Why do they think she knows anything about John Bleaker’s murder?”
“I’m going to tell you some things that I probably shouldn’t, but since Officer Foster has already told half the town, you have a right to know too. Your aunt dated John last year and they parted on bad terms. At the crime scene, they found flowers delivered from your aunt to John and the vase had been smashed. Also, when John called the station he mentioned that he saw a fairy in his house before the call disconnected. Your aunt often dresses with fairy wings to promote her flower business.”
If Mossy had already moved on to the next man in her life, why would she care about a relationship that ended badly last year? “None of those things suggests she’d break into his house in the middle of the night. Bad relationship or not.”
“I agree. That’s why I don’t think you need to be worried. The county detective will send her home before too much longer.”
“Can I pick your detective brain for a minute?”
“I see my niece has infected you with her inquisitiveness.” He propped his elbows on the table. “But okay, go ahead.”
“If you were the detective on this case, where would you start?” When his eyebrows dropped into a frown, I added, “Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
“It always comes down to motive, means, and opportunity.” He’d raised his hand and ticked off his fingers as he’d said each one. “Motive would be the reason someone would want him dead. This is the biggest piece of the puzzle. Even with a crime of passion or an incident of accidental manslaughter, there’s still a motive for what pushed the person to react in such a violent manner.”
I set the book down on the table. “How would you determine a motive?”
�
�I’d start with those closest to him and work my way out. The people most likely to have a motive would be a significant other, co-workers, bosses, neighbors. It’s possible it’s a stranger-related killing, but those usually go along with robberies gone wrong.”
“How well did you know John?”
“Not well at all. I mostly keep to myself and fail at keeping Olivia out of trouble. There’s not much time for socializing otherwise.”
I smiled at him. “That’s a shame.”
He smiled back. “Anyway, I’m on shift tonight and need another few hours of sleep before dinner.”
“Thank you for not dismissing my concerns.”
“Our department worked with a psychic or two in Atlanta. I learned to keep an open mind about everything.” He ran a hand through his hair and kept his expression neutral. “How long are you in town? Maybe we could have coffee again?”
“Five days, unfortunately, but if I can assist with bringing John’s murderer to justice before then, I’d be happy to have another coffee.”
“Murder investigations can take months. Without solid evidence—up to a year. Unless you have had a vision of the murderer and a confession, I’d suggest leaving the police work to the police.”
I didn’t blame him for not understanding, but I didn’t have months. I only had five days to find the murderer, and I wouldn’t give up until I did.
Chapter Nine
I thanked Callan again and he shut the door hard behind me. Where did I go next? I could check back at the flower shop to see if Mossy had returned.
A pssst pssst drew my attention to the corner of the house. Olivia stuck her head out of a window and motioned me forward.
“I heard you’re grounded.”
“Yeah. I guess sneaking out twice in one twenty-four hour period was pushing it.” She tossed her hair out of her face and adjusted her glasses. “I heard you talking with Uncle Callan about motives.”
“How do I find out the closest people to John?”
“The gossip club will have all the latest information. They’re probably still at the little diner on the corner of the square, if you hurry.”
“What’s a gossip club?”
“Ms. Emory, Ms. Gladys, and Ms. Allondra get together for high tea in the Corner Café at five p.m. most weekdays and discuss everyone in town. What happened to Mr. Bleaker will be at the top of their list.”
“I’ve met Emory and Gladys. I don’t think Gladys trusts me.”
“Tell them something that no one else knows and they’ll be your best friend for life.”
“Make them the top gossipers, you mean?”
“Exactly.”
Olivia dipped back inside and tilted her head. “I think my uncle is coming. Once I’m off house arrest, I’ll find you.”
She shut the window and Pip and I followed our route back to the town’s square. The man with the scar was no long sitting in front of the hardware store. I glanced around to make sure he hadn’t moved to the other side of the street.
Fairyland Flowers still had the closed sign turned and the lights were off. Mossy’s big beast of a car sat in the same parking spot as the night before. No Mossy. With my confidence slipping, I strode past and to the diner called Corner Café.
The gossip club would only share information if I shared it with them first. What did I have that could be of use? Mossy had asked me to keep the private information about John quiet, and I didn’t want to go against her wishes while she defended herself to the police.
Did I know something else from the short amount of time I’d been in Lilac Cove?
The Corner Café had a black and white striped awning over the door. Swirly script announced the opening and closing times, as well as a strict no pet policy.
“I think you’d better keep hidden for now, Pip.” I pushed his little head into the bag and zipped it three-fourths of the way closed. His displeasure became apparent with excited chitters, but he calmed after a minute.
The inside of the café’s décor matched the awning in that it had black and white pictures, tablecloths, chairs, and even the server behind the tall glass counter wore a black apron over a white shirt.
The only patrons in the café were the three gossip mavens Olivia had asked me to seek out. They each wore brightly colored dresses in pink, purple, and orange. Each wore a hat that matched their outfits and the fresh flowers Gladys had picked from the shop.
Emory, in the pink, waved to me. “Join us for a cup of tea and a scone, why don’t you? Our treat.”
The invite hadn’t taken long. I sat in the unoccupied chair between Emory and the woman who wore the purple dress that I assumed to be Allondra.
“Hello.”
Allondra pulled a vial of hand sanitizer from her purse and rubbed it on her dark skin. “We hear your aunt is still being questioned by the police.”
“Juniper claims she doesn’t know anything,” Gladys interjected.
“I might know something,” I said and smoothed my skirt. “I’m not sure I should say anything though.”
“You’re amongst friends.” Emory pushed a teacup toward me and used a kettle from the middle of the table to fill it with hot water. After she set a tea infuser inside, she offered me cream. “We consider Mossy one of our closest friends.”
I poured a few drops of cream into my cup and bounced the infuser up and down to release the full flavor of the tea leaves. “I know that Mossy dated John Bleaker last year.”
“We know that already,” Gladys said, her thin eyebrow lifted high as if to tell me to try again.
Undeterred, I did just that. “I know that she sent him flowers yesterday.”
“And.”
“They were yellow. The color of friendship.”
That one small extra detail couldn’t hurt Mossy, but the three women glanced at each other as if I’d told them something of importance.
“Yellow is the first step in reconciliation,” Allondra said.
“What if John denied her and she bopped him on the head?” Gladys added.
“What? No!” What kind of friends would think that giving someone flowers meant they would kill them?
“What else do you know?” Emory put a scone on a bright white saucer and shoved it toward me.
My throat tightened. I broke off the edge of the scone and put it in my purse for Pip to stall for time. Anything I said could be construed as a reason that Mossy could be the killer. I had to find a way to put other suspects in their line of fire. “I know that he had a job interview this morning. That he had an ex-girlfriend that bossed him around. That it couldn’t have been my aunt.”
Would one of those things do it?
“John was leaving the mayor’s office?” Allondra asked. “That’s a surprise. He loved having access to all the goings-on in the entire town. It’s like a mini-throne without the actual work of being in charge.”
Gladys flicked a finger at the door. “Speaking of ex-girlfriends, here comes John’s most recent.”
I swiveled my head to see the flirty woman from last night with shiny blonde hair enter the café. Callan had called her Brianna. She wore a black dress and oversized dark sunglasses. Her lips were colored a dark red. She spoke to the server behind the counter. “I’m here for the mayor’s dinner.”
When Brianna saw us staring at her she wiggled her fingers with a wave and gave us a tight smile.
Emory tsked a couple of times. “She doesn’t seem overly broken up about John’s death.”
“She sleeps around more than your aunt,” Allondra said in a tone loud enough to carry to the glass counter.
The other women shushed her but I could tell from the server’s expression that both she and Brianna had heard Allondra’s declaration.
Brianna paid for the meal but didn’t give us another glance as she marched through the door. Officer Foster arrived just in time to hold it for her and he gave her a nod before watching her walk down the sidewalk.
Gladys immediately called out to hi
m. “Officer Foster, sweetheart. Don’t you look exhausted from keeping the streets of Lilac Cove safe.”
He sauntered over, hands on his utility belt. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve been running around all night trying to help the county detective. The mayor would prefer we handle this case ourselves, but the sheriff told her she didn’t have final say.”
Officer Foster did a quick double take when he noticed me sandwiched between Gladys and Allondra. “If it isn’t our new town psychic. You’ve cleaned up a bit since last night. Are you reading these ladies’ tea leaves?”
Allondra gasped. “Are you a psychic? My Auntie Eleanor had the power of sight.” She shoved her hand in my face. “Read my palm.”
I pulled her hand away from my nose. “I’m not that sort of psychic.”
This time both of Gladys’s eyebrows rose. The effort made a ripple of lines on her forehead. “Then what kind are you?”
I’d wanted to wait until I had the police chief’s attention, but maybe having Officer Foster’s attention could be just as good. He seemed motivated to search for the truth. Even if it was to please the mayor.
Pip made a squeak and I lifted my bag to the table. Here goes nothing. “I can talk to animals. This is John’s pet squirrel, Pip. I think he called him Mr. Squeakers, but that’s not what he likes to be called.”
Officer Foster’s jaw swung open and for several seconds he didn’t make a sound. Finally, he pulled out his notepad from the top pocket of his shirt. “We found an empty cage, but we weren’t certain what type of animal had been inside. How did you get him?”
“I found him outside last night, or rather, he found me,” I lied.
Officer Foster yanked a chair from another table and set it down beside Allondra. He sat and clicked the top of a pen, poised to take notes. “Tell me everything you know.”
I hesitated.
Emory nudged my arm. “Well, tell him, Juniper. This could help get your aunt out of trouble. Isn’t that what you want?”
“Well…” I stalled and wracked my brain for how to use this situation to my advantage. “Pip says that we need to visit the crime scene before he’ll give me more information.”