Jasmine and Jealousy

by London Lovett

  "I'm still here. Just trying to puzzle out how you had all this information about alibis and whereabouts."

  The office was feeling stifling and small. I headed out to the front of the shop for fresher air, hoping it would provide me with a good response. "I just happened to run into Cody, the marketer. Turns out he's very chatty and without a lot of filter."

  "Uh huh. I'm not buying the 'just happened' part of your story. You went to their campsite, didn't you?"

  "Possibly. And so what if I did?" I tossed it in there as my first line of defense. "There's no law against it. I was heading to Mayfield, and I knew they were camping there so I just sort of turned the car that direction."

  "Yep, I find myself haphazardly turning here and there too. I know I'm wasting my breath on this, and I've got to get back to work. What about the pizza? I'll probably be working until eight. Is that too late for dinner?"

  "It's a little late but I'm sure I could manage a slice of pizza at that time. I can meet you at your house around eight." Kingston was getting fidgety on his perch. He was ready to head home and so was I. "I'm just closing up the shop."

  "Sounds good. What are you going to do with the rest of the day? Hopefully, it doesn't have anything to do with the Taco Brothers."

  "Not tonight." I wanted to leave my options open and let him know I wasn't done with the case. "I've got other things to do." I decided not to go into specifics. As much as I wanted to solve Rico's murder, I had another murder front and center in my mind. My late afternoon plans were to head up to the Hawksworth site and have a little chat with the all-knowing raven. Briggs didn't care much for me traveling up to the site alone, so I thought it best not to mention my plan.

  "Other things to do," he said. "All right, then. Guess I'll see you later."

  "Yes and don't forget to mention what a wonderful person Franki is to Detective Fairchild."

  He chuckled. "I will and stop worrying about her. It'll be fine. Stay out of trouble. I love you."

  "Love you too. By the way, I always stay out of trouble. Trouble just doesn't like to stay away from me. Bye. And don't forget to order the pizza with the cheese stuffed in the crust." I hung up and hurried to finished cleaning up. I was forbidden to solve the present murder, so it was time to focus on one from the past.

  Chapter 24

  A plume of dark clouds had settled over Port Danby, and as badly as they seemed to want to release a drenching summer storm, they held onto their contents. But I wasn't kidding myself. I had an hour tops to get up to the Hawksworth site and find out just what the raven had to say. My mind tickled the idea that there was nothing on the parchment but another cryptic message like 'ask the bunny. He's in the loop'. I braced myself for an utterly unsatisfying end to the raven and his message. It had been so long since I started this pursuit, sometimes it felt as if I'd never reach the end.

  Worried that the rain was inevitable, I drove my car up Maple Hill but stopped before pulling up to the house. A bright red mustang was parked halfway between the old house and the gardener's shed. The local teenagers didn't usually show up before dark, but it seemed I just happened upon a pair who preferred daylight. (Not that the daylight had stuck around with the heavy bank of clouds.)

  I parked outside the lot and got out of the car. What was the worst that could happen? The teens might even take off with their romantic solitude interrupted. At least that was what I hoped would happen.

  I climbed up the driveway. Long ago it was lined with stone pavers and a short wall but those embellishments were basically rubble now. The driveway itself was mostly patches of weeds squeaking up between broken pieces of cement.

  There were enough old trees on the lot to give me a few places to hide. I got close enough to confirm that there were two heads inside the car. My hopes that the teens were on their way out were dashed when the doors opened. A light giggle floated out from the passenger's side. A tall, nice looking man emerged from the driver's side. These were not teens but adults. A blonde head circled around the Mustang.

  "Oh my," I whispered to myself. "That is what we call a quick recovery from grief."

  I'd only seen Rico's wife, Angel, once, but with her blue streaks and multiple tattoos, she was easy to recognize. The man, someone I'd never seen before, curled his arms around her and gave her a kiss, a kiss that made it quite clear they were up at the site for a romantic tryst.

  I was supposed to be staying out of the case, but the case seemed to be following me. While I didn't know anything about Rico's relationship with his wife, I did know enough about human character, in general, to know most women didn't take up with someone new just two days after their husband's death. Maybe they'd had a terrible marriage, and she was just waiting for him to be out of her life. It was also possible she was already seeing someone on the side. The couple in front of me looked cozy and comfortable with each other as if they'd been friends for awhile. A number of questions shot through my head. Did Rico know that Angel was seeing someone else? Were they on the outs? Or did Angel kill Rico to get out of the marriage? Without being too judge-y (ah, who was I kidding?) it seemed that a woman who dated one brother, then shifted her focus to another brother might not be the most trustworthy mate. Of course, I didn't know the whole story. Unfortunately, it seemed I wouldn't know the whole story because I'd been left out in the cold on this.

  "All right, Lacey. Stop feeling sorry for yourself," I muttered. My pity party moment passed, and a new idea popped into my head. "Evidence." I lifted my phone and snapped a picture just as the man put his arm around Angel's shoulder. They walked toward the edge of the lot, the place where, on a clear day, you could see all the way to the beach.

  I glanced at my screen. I captured a fairly clear photo of both people, and with his arm still around her shoulders, it was easy to assume they were a romantic couple. This would certainly help Franki by placing another possible suspect onto the list. After all, it seemed Angel was not the slightest bit broken up about Rico's death.

  I debated whether to keep the evidence to myself. After all, Detective Fairchild made it clear that she didn't want me anywhere near the case. But for Franki's sake, I had to show Briggs.

  I sent a text with the photo. "I'm up at the Hawksworth site, and I happened upon this cozy couple. The woman just happens to be Angel Sanders, the victim's wife. Quick recovery, eh?"

  A text snapped right back? "Why are you up there alone?"

  I stared at his text, making sure I read it right. But it was too easy to read wrong.

  My fingers flew as I texted back. "Really? That's your response? This gets Franki off the hook."

  I waited for his next text, one of confirmation and congratulations. Instead the phone rang. I sucked in a breath and answered it before it rang more. "Hello," I whispered. I took a furtive glance around the tree. Angel and her friend were still gazing out at the view, seemingly oblivious to the phone ringing. I spun around to face away from them and hunched my shoulders and whole body forward to create a sort of cone of silence around my conversation. It was probably a useless endeavor, but it was the best I could do considering the lack of an actual cone of silence.

  "You're whispering," he said.

  I was just miffed enough at his earlier response to bite back. "You're quite the detective." My whisper had gotten louder. (There was nothing more awkward than trying to be sarcastic in a whisper.

  "I want you to get out of there. Now."

  "I'm here on the Hawksworth investigation so stop ordering me around." I'd given up entirely on the whisper. It just wasn't an effective tone to use when trying to defend oneself. "Send that picture to Fairchild. It's very incriminating."

  "It might be, but more importantly if it is, and Rico's wife planned this with her lover, then you're standing all alone at an abandoned house site with two killers." The urgency in his voice caused a pang of guilt about the way I'd spoken to him.

  "I hadn't thought of that. I'm hidden behind some trees, but I'll head down the hill. Just se
nd the picture. It'll get Franki off the hook."

  "Just get out of there and call me the second you get back home."

  "It's cute. One minute you're ordering me around and the next you're sounding all worried and fretful."

  "Lacey—"

  "I'm on my way. Goodbye."

  "Were you spying on us?" a man's voice said angrily from behind.

  I froze and without moving my head, peered down at the phone in my hand. It would only take a flick of my thumb to call Briggs back. His words about being alone with two possible killers dashed through my mind as I contemplated my next move.

  I took a steadying breath and turned back to face them. "I was just going to ask you the same thing? You're after the same thing as me, aren't you? I'll get to the clues first. I've been working on this too long to let someone else solve the mystery of the Hawksworth murders." Their expressions grew more and more confused as I rambled on. Finally, the man put up his hand to stop my rant.

  "Listen, lady, we were just up here looking at the view." He chuckled but Angel was busy scrutinizing my face. She either recognized me or was trying to figure out why I looked familiar. But I kept up my ruse.

  "That's what they all say. It doesn't matter though. I'm already close to solving the whole thing." (I hoped some parts of my deception were true.)

  "We'll be leaving now." The man raised a brow and looked at me as if I was crazy. I supposed I did sound a little off kilter.

  Angel willingly turned away with her boyfriend. I breathed easily, sure I'd just scared them off without incident. After all, a kooky woman running around babbling about mysteries and murder wasn't exactly conducive to a romantic evening.

  Halfway back to the car, Angel stopped. Her friend took a few steps before noticing she was no longer next to him. She spun around. I pretended to be interested in something at the base of the tree. "Hold on, didn't I see you in Mayfield at the campground this afternoon?" Her voice sounded brittle and accusatory.

  I glanced up with a look of surprise. "You're right. I saw you there too. What a coincidence. Well, I've got to be on my way." I turned around and walked hurriedly toward my car.

  Behind me, I heard car doors slam and tires slowly grind over dirt and gravel. I didn't look back as the Mustang followed closely at my heels. My pulse pounded as I fingered the phone in my hand. To add to my predicament, the first heavy drops of rain started to fall. I was a good twenty yards from my car. Running to the car might make them suspicious. They might give chase, and since I was on foot, I was at an extreme disadvantage.

  The rain gave me the excuse I needed to pick up my pace. I went from a jog to a run. My pulse was even faster by the time I reached my car. I didn't look back at the Mustang. I held my breath as I opened the door. The wheels scraped dirt then asphalt as it took off down the hill.

  I sat inside the car, watched the massive drops of rain streak down my dusty windshield and gulped in air. This murderer chasing gig could really take a girl's breath away.

  Chapter 25

  I had finally caught my breath and slowed all my adrenaline filled muscles back to normal when my phone rang triggering some of my alarm again. It was Briggs. I made the snap decision to not go into details about the last few minutes. After all, the Mustang was gone and nothing untoward had happened.

  "Hello. I know I was supposed to call you but—"

  "Yes?"

  "It's just that I'm so close to solving the Hawksworth thing. The couple has left so everything is fine." I leaned down to peer up at the sky. "Except the weather."

  "And the fact that you're completely alone up there on that hill."

  "James, stop. I'm an adult. I'm in Port Danby, the cutest, sweetest little sea town on the Pacific. You've got to stop treating me like a little girl."

  A moment of silence followed.

  "You're right. Sorry. I just worry about you when you're out chasing killers."

  A bolt of lightning lit up the sky. "But this time, I'm chasing a killer from the past. It's not as if Harvard Price can come back from the grave to terrorize me in my pursuit."

  "Harvard Price? So you're set on Price having something to do with it?" There was a hint of concern in his tone.

  "Obviously, I still need more evidence, but why do you sound so worried?" A clap of thunder startled me. I twisted around to grab my sweatshirt from the backseat. The summer storm had brought in a layer of cool air.

  "You might have noticed that you're not exactly the present Mayor Price's favorite person. Not sure if exposing that his great-grandfather was a heinous murderer is going to do much to tighten up your friendship."

  "At this point, I don't think he could like me less. You can't expect me to stop now, James. I'm so close."

  "I know. I won't stop you. Just be careful. Are we still on for pizza later? Or have I annoyed you with all my cautions and reminders?" he asked.

  "You have been a touch annoying, but I can manage to eat a slice of pizza with you. I'm just going to spend a little time in the gardener's shed. There. Now you know where to look for me if I turn up missing."

  He paused. "Not funny."

  "I know. Sorry."

  "By the way, I left a message for Fairchild letting her know I had some information on Rico's wife that might interest her. She hasn't returned my call yet."

  The scoffing sound slipped from my lips before I could stop it. My hope that it was too quiet to hear through the phone was flattened by his throat clearing.

  "I'm sure she's out doing interviews," he said.

  "Probably." Or 'maybe she was so focused on the wrong suspect she didn't want to hear or see anything that might blow her theory' was what I wanted to say but didn't. I was always glad to talk to Briggs, but the raven was waiting. "I'll see you in a few hours for pizza. Bye."

  The clouds still hung heavy in the sky, but the stubborn raindrops seemed to be holding tightly to their puffy sky anchors. A few drops fell, just enough to make the asphalt on the road give off its greasy scent and to make the dust on my car look like muddy streaks. With the Mustang gone, I decided to drive right up to the site. I was no longer feeling shaken from the earlier incident, so I was ready to get back to the investigation.

  I parked the car close to the spot where the Mustang had been parked. This new nugget of information certainly put Rico's wife front and center. The question was—would Fairchild think the same thing when she saw the photo?

  While the drops were few and far apart, when they did land they were fat and heavy. I raced across to the gardener's shed and yanked open the lock. The clouds outside made for even less light inside the dank, small building. My phone would have to act as a flashlight. (Handy little devices those phones.)

  I knew precisely the focus of my visit to the museum, so I wasted no time. It wasn't a place to linger, especially on a rainy day. On my last visit, Ryder's unexpected call, to let me know the shop was busy, had thrown me off course. I'd pushed the raven back on the shelf haphazardly. It no longer sat in the original circle, easy to spot from the dust on the shelf. The raven's beak was turned to the side, and the corner of the marble base hung off the edge of the shelf.

  I chided myself for being so careless, then proceeded to lift the bird up. The taxidermist had done an admirable job, but the raven was brittle from age. I gently laid it on its side and used my car key to pry away the two wax seals that held the yellow parchment in place. Wax was a particularly good sealant considering how well it had stuck to a smooth piece of stone for over a hundred years.

  While the menacing looking carrier raven was brittle, the note he had stashed beneath his long talons was fairly well preserved. I considered tucking it in my pocket and taking it home to read, but I was too anxious to know the contents.

  Once again, I had to douse my excitement in case it turned out to be nothing more than another cryptic message or, worse, a suicide note from Bertram, himself, warning the reader that he was going to kill his family and himself. That new possible theory nearly drained the b
reath from me. Could I have been wrong the entire time?

  "Nah, couldn't be." My words echoed back to me, giving me the fortification I needed to unfold the parchment.

  I recognized the writing as Bertram's based on his signature and notes on the account ledger. It was a solid, manly, elegant scroll, one that fit a man of wealth in that time period. Unlike today, back then, your penmanship was important, it was a mark of your status in life. It was also a tad more flowery than nowadays, which made the note slightly hard to decipher, especially given the lack of light. I held the brittle parchment in one hand and directed my phone light over it with the other. I adjusted both hands to remove the glare. It was dated October 4, 1906, three days before the murder.

  To whom it may concern,

  * * *

  If you have found this note I'm am most likely dead. I placed the message about the raven in my account ledger hoping an accountant or lawyer would discover it upon settling my estate.

  * * *

  What I have to say is of grave importance to my beloved town of Port Danby. I have it on good authority that Mayor Harvard Price has been keeping two sets of books for the town. He has skimmed hundreds of thousands of dollars from the town's coffers. The spare account book, the decoy, shows a perfectly balanced budget, but in truth, Port Danby is deeply in debt due to his mismanagement and thievery. When I brought it to his attention and told him I planned to expose his corruption, he became irate, a monster filled with rage. He threatened to kill my entire family. This is why I've kept quiet. I can not, will not endanger my wife and children. However, I am still in abject fear that Price will take out his revenge on me. While I'm alive, he is still vulnerable. I have purchased a new home on the east coast and will be packing up my family to move as far away from the vile man as possible. In the meantime, all our lives are in peril. I have written this note in case the unthinkable happens. Please make sure it gets into the right hands so Mayor Price can be brought to justice.