“Olivia, I’m not here to make you feel bad. I only want to protect—” Jake cut off and cleared his throat. “I mean, I want to get to the bottom of this case as quick as possible. You hired me to do the right thing, and that’s what I plan on doing.”
“Great,” Olivia said and chewed the inside of her cheek. She grabbed the coffee cups and placed them on a tray.
She ignored the heat creeping up her throat and itching at the base of her chin. He’d said ‘protect.’
“Shall we?” Jake asked and gestured to the tables. “We could discuss the case.”
“Sure,” she replied and grasped the tray hard enough to turn her knuckles white.
Chapter Fourteen
Olivia rolled around in her bed and stared at the ceiling. The lights from the street outside filtered between her gauzy curtains and cast strange shadows on the ceiling, like those that had given her nightmares as a child.
The stretching, clawed hand of a tree branch, or the gentle sway of leaves that flickered across the lintel of the door.
Thankfully, she’d outgrown nightmares and opted for real life.
“Which is a nightmare in itself,” she whispered.
She hadn’t heard from Sebastian in ages, and the case had spiraled out of her control. The Fall Festival was a day away, and she hadn’t finished all the chocolates. Alphonsine was in a state, and Dodger had left her a lovely, poop-shaped present at the foot of her bed that evening.
“Can it get any worse?”
Dodger snored on his doggy pillow in the corner and huffed out his breath in a low whine.
Olivia rolled her eyes and sat up straight. The coffee had kept her awake. That was all. She reached over and clicked on her bedside light, then grabbed her Kindle off the bedside table.
At least she could put her insomnia to good use and get some reading done.
A knock rattled her bedroom door, and Olivia jumped. She tossed the Kindle up, then fumbled it back into her lap.
Dodger snorted and snuffled awake.
The knock came again.
The dog barked and scrabbled to his paws.
“Who’s there?” Olivia asked and glanced at her alarm clock. It was past midnight, for heaven’s sake.
“Olivia?” Alphonsine’s voice trickled through the door. A faint cry.
“Come in,” Olivia called immediately. She always had time for the A’s.
Alphonsine opened the door and plodded inside, then glanced back out into the darkened hall. She shut the door swiftly, but left her hand on the knob.
Dodger settled down on his pillow again.
“You’re up late, Alphonsine.”
“Oui,” the Frenchwoman replied. “I could not sleep. May I sit?”
“Of course,” Olivia replied and gestured to the end of the bed.
Alphonsine took a seat, then inhaled sharply. “I worry about the way I acted.”
“What do you mean?”
“I should not ‘ave broken your rules. I apologize.”
Olivia waved her hands at the young woman. “Don’t bother yourself about it. As long as it doesn’t happen again.”
Alphonsine nodded and hung her head. Dodger got up from his spot, then trotted up to her and put his head in her lap. She ruffled his soft, furry ears and smiled.
“May I ask who he was?” Olivia asked, then crossed her fingers beneath the Kindle. This was her shot. Sure, there wasn’t a concrete guarantee that the man who’d been in the room was the murderer, but it was a start.
“He was a bad man,” Alphonsine said and pursed her lips. “I think I love him, and he act so sweetly, but then I discover he has a wife.”
“Oh no,” Olivia said. “I’m so sorry.”
Alphonsine raised her chin. “He also had this, this terrible cross.”
“Cross?”
“Oui. Angry all the time.” Alphonsine frowned.
“Oh, you mean he had a temper?” Olivia said.
“Oui. He shout at me too many times. So I tell him no more, and he left. I am still sad, though,” Alphonsine replied. She sighed and wiped tears from her eyes. Dodger whined and licked at her wrists.
“Was he angry when you told him it was over?” Olivia asked. The temperament of a murderer.
“Oui.” She sniffled, then dabbed at the tip of her nose. “I tell you his name, but please, you must not tell anyone. I did not know he had a wife.”
“I understand,” Olivia replied, “and I won’t tell anyone. This secret is safe with me.” Everyone made mistakes, and Alphonsine’s had been born of innocence.
The Frenchwoman bit her lip and stared at the bookshelf on the other side of the room. She nodded once, then stroked Dodger. “His name is Ernest Dennison.”
Shock crashed through Olivia’s mind. Ernest Dennison.
Dennison, who’d hated Lizzy Couture, who’d had every reason to murder her in cold blood. A man who might’ve worn a size thirteen shoe for all she knew.
Olivia’s jaw dropped. “I—Alphonsine, I—oh goodness.”
“What is it?”
“I think Ernest might have murdered Lizzy Couture,” Olivia said softly. She couldn’t be sure of that yet, and she couldn’t jump to conclusions like she had about Kinks McGee.
Alphonsine went pale as a white chocolate truffle. “He is the killer? No!” She exclaimed. “A killer in the house?”
“Wait, let’s not jump to any conclusions yet,” Olivia said, grinding her teeth. “Dear, please fetch me my laptop. It’s over there on the dresser.”
It was high time she did some research. Research before the accusation this time.
Chapter Fifteen
Olivia tapped her slippers on the floorboards and pursed her lips. She shifted the laptop onto her lap and clicked through to Google.
“Now,” she said, “I interviewed Mr. Dennison at the very beginning of this investigation, and he mentioned how much he despised Lizzy.”
“He did?” Alphonsine asked. The color that had drained from her cheeks earlier still hadn’t returned.
“Yes,” Olivia replied. “Lizzy wasn’t a very nice woman. She published a lot of inflammatory stuff about Ernest, Jana, and many others. Of course, that doesn’t mean she deserved what she got.”
Olivia leaned in and wrinkled her nose. She typed out Ernest Dennison’s name, then hit Enter.
“Ernest mentioned he’d had affairs when we spoke to him. I wish I’d connected the dots sooner but how could I—”
Alphonsine made a strangled noise in her throat.
Olivia glanced at her, then grimaced. “Sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Affairs? He has many of these affairs?” the young woman asked, then dabbed at her cheeks again. She formed fists and dropped them into her lap. “Fine,” she said. “We will take down this man.”
Olivia cleared her throat and turned back to the page of results. “All right, so what do we have here? Ernest Dennison, Ohio. No, that’s not him. Dennison from North Carolina. Nope. Ah, here we go.”
Olivia clicked the mouse and opened an article on the web site UpandComers.com, then scrolled down until she reached his name.
“It’s a business profile,” Olivia said.
Alphonsine pointed at the picture. “Oui, there he is. Stupid little man.”
Olivia scanned the text below his name. “Hmm, there’s not much on him. Nothing that could tie him to the crime. Oh wait, here’s something. He owns several businesses, but the most notable is the Dennison Glass Factory. It’s located just outside of Chester. He also owns an IT company.”
“A glass factory? Why is this important?” Alphonsine asked.
Dodger yawned at her feet and scratched around.
Olivia tapped her bottom lip with her thumb. “I’m not sure. I just feel like it is, and I don’t know why.” She clicked back and continued searching.
“Perhaps, this Lizzy woman’s article will tell more of him,” Alphonsine said.
“Perhaps. But that’s the strang
est part. I can’t find her article about him. I remember because I searched the archives, and I searched online after we interviewed Ernest. Nothing. That’s when he slipped my mind as a suspect.”
“Why?”
“I figured she’d taken it down because he paid her the bribe money. But now, I’m not sure.” Maybe there was a more sinister reason for the lack of articles. Then again, did she have real proof that Ernest had murdered Lizzy? The motive was there, and the shoes fit the crime. He’d probably known Alphonsine would deliver the batch of chocolates to the workers in the square on the morning of the murder.
But it was all conjecture. Where did the poison come in?
If only she could find the missing piece of the puzzle.
Alphonsine stifled a yawn with her fist.
“Oh my, I’m keeping you up. Please, go to bed, Alph. You’re going to need all your strength tomorrow.”
“Oui,” Alphonsine replied. “The Fall Festival.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” Olivia still had two batches of chocolates to make before the morning.
She slapped the laptop lid shut, and Dodger snorted and grumbled around. “Now that you mention it, I should probably get downstairs and get a head-start on the chocolates for tomorrow.” It would help take her mind off things.
Perhaps the answer would work itself to the forefront of her mind while her hands were occupied.
“I can help you, Olivia.” Alphonsine rose from her seat on the bed, her jaw creaking with another yawn.
“No, no. That’s quite all right. I think it’s better if I do this myself. I need the time to think.” Olivia walked her assistant to the door, then opened it. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Olivia hoped that she’d have figured it all out by then.
Chapter Sixteen
Olivia dusted off her palms on her apron and examined the rows of perfectly formed chocolate drops. The sun glimmered on the horizon, and streaks of light sliced through the window panes and settled across the tiles.
“Glass factory,” Olivia said, then yawned and stifled it with her palm. “There’s something in that. I have to figure it out.” Hours had passed, and she still hadn’t gotten to the bottom of the problem.
She tramped out of the kitchen and into the shop. She headed for the stairs and stomped up them, then unlocked the door and entered her home. She had to get ready for the Festival. Those chocolates wouldn’t deliver themselves.
Olivia walked into her room, and Dodger barked his hello. He nudged her with his wet, black nose, then barked.
“In a minute, Dodgy. I just need to do one thing,” she said.
The laptop sat on her bed, still closed, and she hurried to it, then opened the lid. The computer took an age to start up. Olivia sat down on the bed, then drew it into her lap.
“Glass factory,” she muttered again. Something about it itched at the back of her mind. “Glass factory.”
She typed the words into the Google search bar, then pressed Enter.
The results popped up but she frowned and shook her head. “No, that’s not it.”
Olivia tapped her fingers on the keys. ‘Glass factory’ was definitely the first phrase. And the second?
“Arsenic.”
She pressed enter again. The list of results popped up on the screen, and Olivia gasped. Shock shuddered through her chest and into her soul. Her fatigue disappeared.
“That’s it!” she yelled.
Dodger barked and hopped on the spot. His claws scrabbled on the boards.
“That’s it, Dodgy, that’s what I missed.” Olivia leaned in and read aloud: “Arsenic trioxide is a refining agent in the glass-making process.” She sat bolt upright, then placed the laptop on the bed beside her. “He had access to it. And he had a motive, and the right sized shoes. It has to be him!”
Olivia stumbled to her feet and grabbed her cell phone off the bedside table. She clicked through to Jake’s number, then dialed. She pressed the phone to her ear and paced back and forth.
Dodger sat next to the door and tracked her movements. His head wagged from side to side.
Two rings and then, “Hello?”
“It’s Olivia,” she said without preamble, “and I know who the killer is. Ernest Dennison.”
“What? Olivia, I warned you about—”
“I know, I know, and I’m not jumping to conclusions this time. I’m sure it’s him. He runs a glass factory, and he had access to arsenic trioxide because of that. It’s a refining agent in the glass-making process.”
“This is a lot of information to process at six a.m.,” he croaked.
“Look, just tell the cops to meet us at the Fall Festival. And to bring handcuffs,” Olivia said.
“Olivia, are you sure about this? Detective Keene threatened to detain you last time, remember?”
Olivia refrained from snapping back. Barely. “I’m sure, Jake. Make the call.” They probably wouldn’t believe it if it came from her.
“All right. I’ll meet you at your stand.” And then he hung up.
Olivia’s insides twisted. This was it. She had to catch the killer before it was too late. Olivia hopped off the bed and rushed to her closet to get dressed.
Chapter Seventeen
Olivia hurried into the square and glanced around. The crowds had already gathered.
A long line of customers gathered in front of Jana Jujube’s hugging booth, and an even longer one sampled the chocolate drops that the three A’s were handing out at Block-a-Choc’s. They waved at her from their positions, fresh as could be. Alphonsine had rushed the last two trays of chocolates over just ahead of Olivia.
She waved back, but there wasn’t feeling in it.
Everyone would be at the Fall Festival. Surely, Dennison wouldn’t miss the opportunity to network. “Where are you?” she whispered.
“Right here.”
She jumped and spun on the spot, then let out a sigh. “Jake, you scared the chocolate outta me.”
“As long as I didn’t scare the creativity away,” he said and popped one of her pralines into his mouth. He sucked on it, then wriggled his nose. “I don’t see him anywhere.”
“He’ll be here,” Olivia replied. “He has to be here.”
Jake shrugged and ate another chocolate. He narrowed his eyes, then pointed. “There he is,” he said loudly.
“Shush, don’t point,” Olivia hissed.
Too late.
Ernest Dennison turned around and met their gazes. Olivia froze—she couldn’t look away—and Jake stalled, a chocolate drop halfway to his mouth.
Ernest’s wild-eyed stare flickered from Olivia to the chocolate and back again. He swallowed, then reached up and readjusted his tie.
“Ernest…” Olivia began.
The man turned and took off running.
“Shoot,” she whispered.
Jake crammed the chocolate into his mouth, then sprinted after the murderer. His broad back disappeared into the crowds. Olivia followed, albeit at a slower pace. She’d outgrown full-on sprinting. She settled on a swift jog between the groups of festival-goers.
A few of them waved or shouted a greeting, but she couldn’t reply. Not now. They were too close!
Olivia turned the corner into a side street, then pulled up short.
Ernest stood with his back to a fence that bisected the alley. Jake closed in on him, one step at a time.
“What is the meaning of this?” Ernest asked, his hands raised. He knew. Oh boy, he had to know. Why else would he have run off?
“We know,” Olivia said and folded her arms across her chest.
Dennison glared at her and pressed out his lips. “You.”
“Yeah, me. I know all about it, Ernest, so you might as well save your excuses.”
Jake glanced back at her and motioned for her to calm down.
Olivia ignored him. “We know you murdered Lizzy Couture.”
Ernest’s face went pale, then flushed bright red. “Yeah, I ki
lled her. So what? She was a horrible woman, and Chester is better off without her.”
“Why did you do it?”
Ernest rolled his eyes. “I’m bankrupt because of her. My wife left me, and I’m bankrupt. My business is failing. She needed to pay for what happened.”
“So you murdered her.”
Ernest faltered. “I, I didn’t realize it would kill her. It’s arsenic trioxide, I mean, I didn’t know that it would… ugh! It was a small amount. A couple drops. I just wanted to send her a warning. Make her ill.”
“Well, you didn’t make her ill,” Olivia replied. “You killed her, and there are consequences for your actions.”
“Ha!” Dennison chuckled. “Ha, and what are you two going to do? Arrest me? You’re two misfits who decided to take the law into your own hands.” He pointed at Olivia and laughed some more. “You’re not a police officer.”
“No, I’m not,” Olivia replied.
“But I am.” Detective Keene strode into the alley, his hand on his holster.
Ernest scrambled back against the fence, but it rebounded and pushed him forward instead.
“You heard all that, Detective?” Jake asked.
“That’s correct,” Keene replied. “Mr. Dennison, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent…”
Olivia walked to the mouth of the alley and out into the street. She didn’t need to hear the rest. The case was over, and she had the Fall Festival to attend. Ernest Dennison would get what he deserved.
Oh boy, she had to apologize to Kinks McGee for her behavior.
“Olivia?” Jake hurried up beside her. “Are you okay? You kind of rushed out of there.”
“Let’s just say I’m glad this is all over. Ernest is going to prison, and Chester is safe again.” Olivia smiled at her private detective. “Thanks for your help, Jake. I couldn’t have done any of this without your guidance.”
“You did a pretty fine job of it. I barely did anything.”
“You’re just saying that to be nice,” Olivia said and waved her hands at him. She’d almost messed it up entirely the day before.
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