by Tamara Woods
"I don't know what you can do either," he admitted. "But it's probably more than what these people out here will do. You remember Watson. He's the sheriff now and he never did like me."
It was true. He'd always had a dislike for Isa and Travis. She'd always assumed he hated interracial couples. They certainly hadn't done anything to be on his radar, but that apparently hadn't mattered.
"That still sounds like you need a lawyer more than a researcher," she countered.
"I'm a mechanic at my Dad's shop. Things aren't going too bad like I said. But they're not keeping a lawyer on retainer good, neither. We'll have to just get a public defender. And nobody needs that for a murder trial," he said.
"If you catch a murder charge, you're just going to have to find the money somewhere," Isa said.
"I know, but I'm hoping that we can stop it from going that far."
"How?"
"You're smarter than anybody that I know, Isa. You're definitely smart enough to find a killer in this backwoods town."
Her eyes widened and she put up her hands like she was trying to ward off his words. "No, no, no, smart or not, that isn't my place, Travis. Who do you think I am, Nancy Drew for the love of Pete?"
"I never did like that expression, 'for the love of Pete.' Who's Pete and why he needs my love? Nobody can ever tell me that." Auntie said, sipping straight from her flask. She was sinking a little bit deeper into her armchair.
"But why do they think you killed him? Just from your fight last night?" Isa asked, ignoring her aunt's shenanigans.
"They probably think he did it because those two boys hate each other," her aunt chimed in.
"I thought you were best friends." Isa looked at Travis in confusion. There was so much to take in.
"Used to be. But everything changes after time, even friendships." He shrugged, putting his cup back on the tray.
Isa tapped on the arm of the chair, leaving imprints in the velvet, trying to piece it all together. "Y'all hated each other and the whole town knew?"
"If it was a secret, it was the worst kept one ever," Auntie said, pouring the rest of her flask into her half-empty teacup. She was going to be going to bed early tonight, Isa could see.
"I regret that now," Travis admitted.
"I bet you do," Auntie said.
Isa shot her a look and her aunt made a big production of pretending like she was zipping up her lip and throwing away the key. Isa rolled her eyes and turned back to Travis. She stared at him for a long beat.
"I don't even know where I would begin, Travis," she finally said. Watching Murder She Wrote, didn’t exactly make her a detective superstar.
"I need somebody on my side who actually wants to find the truth," He turned to her and looked deep into her eyes. "You know me. Deep down in my soul. Do you think I would do something like this?"
His hazel eyes bore into hers and she looked at the flecks of gold that she used to stare into years ago. She saw something there that gave her a flash of nerves. She was the first to look away.
"No, I don't," she admitted. "But that's not the point. I’m still just a librarian."
She sat with that for a minute, sipping her tea. It helped to settle her stomach. She'd been feeling queasy for this entire conversation.
"What do we do now?" she asked, finally.
"I don't know."
A pounding knock sounded at the door, causing Isa to spill some of her tea. Travis handed her a napkin from the tray.
"Why do the police always got to come to somebody's house like that? Just scaring people for no reason." Aunt Maybel grunted as she stood up and walked into the kitchen.
"Don't worry," he said to Isa. "It'll work itself out." He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Isa nodded just as unconvincingly.
And then a policeman she didn't recognize came into the room. He started reading Travis his rights, while his partner placed his hands behind his back. The partner pulled out the handcuffs and she watched him click them on.
Travis looked at her then, and then looked down at ground, his jaw clenched.
Seeing him like that, his head bowed in defeat, touched something inside of Isa that she thought had died years ago. She reacted without thinking.
"I'll do it," she blurted and immediately wanted to take the words back. But her word was bond, so it was time to get her Nancy Drew on. What had she gotten herself into?
Chapter Five
After Travis had been led away, Isa picked up her cell and called Clare. As a reporter, she might have connections to find out where the crime had taken place. Clare hadn't heard anything about the arrest yet and quickly agreed to swing by and pick Isa up.
She looked down at herself and decided jeans and a T-shirt would work. She pulled on a cardigan and grabbed her jacket. She slipped on her shoes and slipped on her two seasons old Gucci bag.
"Be careful, baby girl," Auntie said. "This one act is going to change everything for you. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I don't want to do any of it," she said. "But I have to. Travis is many things, but he's not a murderer."
"Everybody changes, and everybody's got the capability to murder. It just takes the right circumstances and the wrong reason."
She nodded and kissed her aunt on the cheek. She wasn't sure if she believed that, but she wasn't going to argue the point. Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? She thought of the quote of a classic radio show.
"I better look at the cards tonight and see what wisdom the universe has to offer," her aunt said before standing up from the kitchen chair with a little grunt.
Isa still felt surprised to see the age in her aunt's rounded shoulders. Sometimes the realization hit her that her aunt was growing older, just like she was. A wave of sadness swept over her. She wouldn't be around forever. Isa resolved to make things as good as possible for her while they both were here on this earth.
Isa waited on the bottom stair of the back porch for her best friend. She pulled out her phone and did a search on Facespace for gossip. No one had reported anything about the murder yet, but that wouldn't last for long. It was the juiciest news that had hit the town since her cousin Fraya's husband had ripped off so much of the town. Ex-husband, rather.
A car horn sounded and her phone beeped with a text.
Clare: I'm here
Isa: Omw.
Clare: Hurry up. This story is hot.
Isa: This isn't just a story.
Clare: My bad.
Clare scrolled on her cell while Isa scooted into the cab of the purple Ford F-150.
"Not exactly how I'd planned to spend my Saturday," Clare said putting the truck into drive even before Isa had closed the door.
Isa felt a little sick at the thought of it all. Chad had gone from being a living, breathing person with real-life hopes and dreams to a body. She swallowed thickly and tried not to concentrate on that.
"I didn't expect to be going back there already," Isa said, slamming the door.
"Life comes at you pretty fast sometimes; you never know what you're gonna get."
"Did you literally just mash-up two beloved franchise sayings? I want a divorce."
"You're stuck with me, baby," Clare said with a laugh.
Their levity quickly sputtered as they drew closer to The Rec. The sun was going down earlier was they were nearing fall. The reds and oranges spilling into purpled that stretched across the sky seemed misplaced. The world didn’t make sense right now. The sky’s beauty felt misplaced for such an ugly evening.
They pulled into the gravel lot and Clare navigated around the bigger potholes. The front door of the building had a big "CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE" sign on it. She drove to the back of the building where two police cars, a work truck with H&H Construction logo on the side, and a little red Toyota were parked.
She assumed the truck with the logo was Chad's. "Whose Toyota is that?"
"Wesley got that a few years back."
"Do you k
now how to navigate this place from the back?" Isa asked, her voice low. It felt wrong to be loud at a place where someone had recently died.
"Not really," Clare admitted, her voice just as quiet.
"How do we get inside?"
"Don't worry, I know a guy," Clare said. Isa rolled her eyes. Obviously, she was talking about the owner. She was not slick.
Isa followed Clare's swinging ponytail past the cop cars and into the back of the center. That back door led into a hallway that was almost as chilly as the outdoors. Isa gently pulled the door closed behind her. She'd prefer to not catch anybody's attention if at all possible.
Obviously, the money had been spent restoring the front of the building, as the back hadn't been touched at all. The hallway was that antiseptic powder blue reserved for high schools and penitentiaries. Bland and boring. The carpet under her feet had seen better days, a matted down red with a yellowed plastic runner down the middle. Clare led them with sure feet, taking a left then a right with them walking past closed doors. The musty smell of old building burned Isa's nose. That and the underlying smell of copper pennies made her stomach cramp. Blood.
Her stomach flipped and she felt a little nauseated. Doubt struck her hard. What was she doing here? She was not a detective. Travis was her ex from high school not even recent. He wasn't her responsibility. This was all madness.
"Maybe this isn't such a good—" she started to whisper.
Clare threw up her hand to silence her, almost hitting her on the nose. "Wait a sec," she said, her voice barely making a sound. She pulled out her phone and Isa leaned over her shoulder and watched as Clare texted her "contact." Just as she'd thought, it was Wesley.
Clare: here. Where ru?
Wes: w/police. Sit down in the office.
Clare: kk. How long?
Wes: 10 mins. Maybe?
Clare shoved her phone into her back pocket and glared over her shoulder at Isa, who shrugged at her. Absolutely no shame in her game. Clare pointed to the door behind them. Isa moved out of the way so her friend could lead. Clare pushed the door and it seemed to be stuck. Isa felt that bad feeling in her stomach again.
"Wait! Let's just wait in the hallway," she whispered urgently.
Ignoring her, Clare put her entire body against the door. With a final grunt, it slammed open, the sound echoing in the hallway.
"Oh fish sticks," Isa said under her breath.
Clare gasped and pointed, her skin paling under the harsh fluorescent lights.
She had definitely picked the wrong door. In front of them, there was blood splattered everywhere and the angry faces of some police officers. But the sight of his oddly clean one sneaker against a pool of blood would forever stain her memory. Isa quickly turned her head away, but she didn't think she'd ever forget the look of Chad in her life.
THE LADIES COOLED THEIR heels in The Rec's main office where they definitely walked past before. Watson, the dreaded sheriff who'd always hated Isa, of course, was the one in charge of the scene. Isa was sure his eyes were going to pop out of his head when they'd bumbled into the pinsetter room. The deputy had hurried over and herded them into the actual office. Wesley had one second sworn at them and in the next apologized profusely to the cops.
"I would've preferred to avoid seeing the police again so quickly, Clare," Isa said, crossing her legs at the ankles.
"I need quotes from them for my story anyway." Clare, the eternal optimist.
Isa snorted. "Good luck with that. You think they're going to give you the time of day after all of this?"
Clare flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I'll get my story."
Isa looked around the office, trying to distract herself. The same worn red carpets covered the floor. It reminded her too much of the drying blood and she quickly averted her gaze. Everything in the room could use dusting, some furniture cleaner, or to meet a quick and merciful retirement in a dumpster. The few chairs were mismatched with faded upholstery and cracked surfaces. Isa figured they were leftovers from the original building owners. The mantel above a would-be fireplace had books and wayward files stacked on it. A tiny window halfway hidden by a filing cabinet just added insult to the injury of having no outside view. This guy probably didn't spend a lot of time in this room.
Who could blame him?
The door creaked opened and was sharply closed behind them. Isa waited while the person stood there, apparently assessing them.
"A nosy reporter and her stupid friend. What do you have to say for yourselves?"
Isa's spine stiffened at being called stupid but she didn’t react to the bait.
The shoes squeaked across the carpet and the owner of the place was standing in front of them.
"Clare, I told you to wait in here," he whispered frantically, leaning forward, showing part of his balding head. "What am I supposed to do now?"
"I got the rooms wrong, I'm so sorry, Wes," Clare said. She patted his bald spot. "Don't worry. Everything is going to be fine."
"What am I supposed to do with you two now?" he asked, projecting his voice as he stood. "It's not like you're kids. I can't call your parents."
"If you're calling anybody's parents, it's hers," Isa said, pointing her thumb in her best friend's direction. "She got me into this mess."
"Throw me under the bus, why don't you?"
"Consider yourself thrown."
He cleared this throat and adjusted his putrid green tie. It went perfectly with his rust orange work vest that matched the curtains. Other things that weren't included in the remodel.
"You could just tell us what happened and let us go before the police come in here," Clare smiled brightly.
He tried to glare for a second, but he couldn't under the light of her smile. He smiled back, his weaselly little face caught in Clare's glow.
"I never could resist you, Clare. All right, I came in late in the afternoon, I opened the door and saw Chad. How the heck am I supposed to clean that?"
Isa ignored his commentary. "What about the security cameras?"
He shifted from one foot to another, a grimace on his face.
"They're just there for looks right now," he admitted. "Who expects anything like this would happen in Whisper Valley?"
Isa nodded. It was true, the town wasn't exactly a hotbed of danger and intrigue. It was the kind of place that lulled people into a sense of security. Everybody knew everybody. But even in Mayberry, people could surprise each other.
"You know Wesley, I remember how much you didn't get along with Chad. And it doesn't seem like he had chilled out at all..." Isa trailed off when he turned his furious gaze on her.
"Are you accusing me of something?"
"Nope, but I do wonder where you were during the wee morning hours."
His lips thinned and his face flushed red with anger. Temper, temper Isa thought. "I was at my mother's house. I still live with my mother, okay?"
"Can she verify where you were?" Isa said.
"I'm only having you hear out of the kindness of my heart and because Clare is one of my favorites. You need to watch yourself." He wagged his finger at her in warning. It felt less threatening than condescending. Isa decided to let up.
"There's no shame in living with your Mom, Wesley. Clare does and I moved back in with my aunt," Isa said. He just looked at her in anger.
"Don't take offense, Wes. I bet the police asked you these same questions," Clare said.
"Yeah, but I didn't expect this from my friends," he said grudgingly.
Friends? Isa wondered. Are we friends?
"I didn't mean to offend you, Wesley, I just want to get to the bottom of this," Isa said.
He wiped his hands like he was dusting all of it away. "No harm, no foul."
After waiting for a beat, Clare asked, her tone curious. "What is that room anyway?" Clare asked.
"It's the one behind the bowling alley where we can manually reset the pins and stuff," he said.
"Isn't this building normally locked?" Isa ask
ed.
He shook his head and cleared his throat again. "What am I supposed to do with you two?" He started chewing on his thumb's skin nervously.
"Tell the police that you know us and you'll take care of it," Clare said.
"And we won't be back here until the investigation is over," Isa said.
He shook his head. "I don't think it'll be that easy."
"Why is the body still here?" Clare asked.
"Apparently, it takes a few hours for the forensics to get here. Being rural and all that. The police are staying here until they get here." He shuddered. "I wish they could hurry up and get here so that...thing wasn't still in my building."
Isa grimaced in sympathy. It was one thing to have to clean up after a kid's birthday party or some drunkards spilling too much on a floor. But this was horrible.
"Do you think it'll damage your bottom line?" Clare asked.
He shrugged. "I have no idea really. I don't know if anything like this has ever happened in Whisper Valley."
"What a terrible thing to be first in," Isa said.
"I'm going to do some research in the newspaper archives and see if it really is. That could be an interesting angle for a follow-up story," Clare said, making a note on her phone.
"As long as you're thinking about your career in my time of need, Clare," he said.
She didn't look the least bit repentant as she finished her notes. "Hey Wes, don't take it personal. It's my job, homie."
"Maybe you should let law enforcement do their job and not get in the way of police procedure," said someone behind them.
Isa turned and there stood Watson decked out in his perfectly pressed uniform with the darkest scowl on his face.
"Freedom of the press Watson, look it up," Clare said. "Speaking of, what is the estimated time of death? Do you know if this could've been an accident? Who are your suspects?"
"You were trespassing on a crime scene. You're in serious trouble." He stood tall over them and it seemed like his chest expanded as wide as the satisfaction in his eyes.
"I invited them here. They didn't mean to open that door. I think it'll be a mess of bad press and bad feelings in the community if you were to press this," Wesley said.