by Sara Rosett
I scrambled around to the other side of the tree. I peeked around the tree trunk toward the thick hedges that enclosed the lawn in the direction the shots had come from.
I didn’t see anyone. The hedges weren’t fully in leaf, but the branches were dense and I couldn’t tell in my quick glance if someone was on the other side of the hedges. Beyond the hedges, a belt of woodland stretched darkly up a gradual rise of land.
I turned back toward Coventry House and scanned the wide expanse of green lawn. Moving in any direction would expose me to full view of the hedge and the wood. I tensed, expecting to hear the high-pitched whine of another bullet, but it was quiet except for the patter of rain splashing into the growing puddles on the lawn and pattering onto the tree branches.
“Kate!”
I jumped and looked toward the front of the house, where Paul, the A.D., was trotting my way with an open umbrella hefted overhead.
“No, don’t come closer. Someone is shooting.”
“What?” Paul removed the pencil from behind his ear and shook his head as he closed the distance. “I thought you said something about someone shooting at you.” His tone said he thought it was a great joke, but as he came to a stop beside me and took in my expression, he said, “You’re serious?”
“Yes, unless those were kamikaze bees embedding themselves on the other side of the tree.”
“Kate, I think you’re—” He held the umbrella over me as he took a step away to look at the bark on the other side of the tree.
I gripped his arm and pulled him back. “Don’t do that.”
He came back to stand beside me, his face white. “There’s a bullet embedded in the bark.”
“Yes, I know.” I had my phone out. “I’m calling Jeff.”
He nodded. “Brilliant idea.”
Chapter 11
“WE RECOVERED TWO BULLETS FROM the tree.” Quimby said half an hour later as he sat down across the table from me in the modern and completely updated kitchen of Coventry House—we wouldn’t be filming in there—or anywhere else for that matter today. Jeff and the other security guys had swept the area around Coventry House all the way up into the woods and hadn’t found anyone, but the production had to shut down while the police investigated.
I wrapped my hands around a mug of tea. Someone had brought it to me. I didn’t remember who. It was still pouring, the rain hammering down on the room and sluicing through the gutters.
Elise had been livid, so angry that she couldn’t get any words out. I only had a fleeting glimpse of her as Jeff escorted me and Paul into the kitchen on Quimby’s orders, but that one glance had been enough. Quimby had already been in and talked to Paul and me once. We’d given him the highlights of what had happened. Olney had appeared in the doorway, asking for Paul to go with him, and I’d wondered momentarily if Melissa had been able to snag Olney’s attention.
“So let’s go through this again,” Quimby said, bringing my attention back to him. “You took the call from Jeff Hayes,” he paused to consult his notes. “At two-twelve.”
“Yes, if that’s what my phone log shows, then that’s right. I didn’t notice the time.”
“So you spoke to the walkers and then you left the garden gate?” I nodded, and he said, “Tell me what happened.”
I sighed. “I’ve told you already. It started raining, coming down really hard, and I headed for the tree to get some shelter. “I heard what I thought was a bee buzz by me, which I thought was strange—that bees would be flying around in heavy rain, I mean—but what do I know about bees?” The corners of Quimby’s mouth turned up a fraction. I went on, “I stopped moving for a second to put up the hood of my raincoat.”
“That coat there?” Quimby asked, pointing to the yellow raincoat, which was draped over another chair.
“Yes. That’s mine.”
Quimby shook his head. “That color makes a heck of a target. Go on.”
I tried not to think about someone looking through a viewfinder at my yellow raincoat. “That’s when I heard the noise again. A bit of bark sort of exploded and that’s when I knew it wasn’t a bee. I think I ducked, but I suppose it took a second for my brain to work it out. It was just so…” I shrugged. “I couldn’t quite believe it. Anyway, I heard the whine again and more bark splintered. That got me moving. I went around to the other side of the tree. That’s when Paul saw me and came over with the umbrella.”
“You mentioned earlier that you looked toward the hedge,” Quimby said, his voice calm and reasonable with none of the slightly accusatory overtones he’d used yesterday when he asked about the length of Alex’s phone call.
“Yes, that’s right. I looked around the tree, but didn’t see anyone.”
He tapped away on his phone, then said, “Did you happen to mention to anyone that you saw Ms. Brown on the path behind your cottage?”
“No—well—I didn’t tell anyone, but Melissa told me she’d heard about it from Felix.”
Quimby’s face tightened as he flicked his finger across the screen on his phone. “That would be Melissa Millbank and Felix Carrick?”
“Yes,” I said, wondering if I’d have any friends left in the production before the day was out.
Quimby put his phone away and stood.
I pushed back my chair. “Are we done? Can I get back to work…well, at least see if there’s anything left for me to do?”
“Yes, except for one thing. Ms. Sharp, I tried to warn you about being careful…”
“What did I do? I was working—doing my job. How was I supposed to know that someone would shoot at me?”
Quimby sighed. “Yes. Well. That is true. All the same, again, please be circumspect in what you say.”
I bristled. “I didn’t say anything. When I got here, the word was already out. People were talking about Alex being a suspect, and the fact that I’d seen the woman who died.”
“Yes,” Quimby said grimly, and then under his breath, he added, “Village inquiries have their own challenges.”
The back door to the kitchen flew open, and Alex came in. “Kate,” he said as he spotted me and came directly over. “Are you okay?”
I thought he was about to embrace me, but he stopped and lightly held my shoulders, his gaze searching my face.
“I’m fine. Everything is okay.” He was close enough that I could see the rain weighing down his hair. I’m not normally a close-quarters kind of person, but I didn’t have any desire to step back from Alex.
“Mr. Norcutt, I have a few questions for you.”
“Of course you do.” Alex didn’t look away from me, and I found his dark brown gaze sort of mesmerizing. I couldn’t have looked away if I’d wanted to.
“I’m fine. Really,” I said.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
Alex ran his hands lightly up and down my arms, then released me. I swallowed and went to get my raincoat off the back of the chair with trembling fingers. Who knew that such a light touch could move me so much? I whipped the coat on and caught Quimby frowning, his gaze shifting between us.
I looked back at Alex. “I’ll wait for you out front.”
“There’s no need for that.” Alex pulled a chair out and gestured for me to have a seat. “Why don’t you stay.”
“Are you sure you want Ms. Sharp here?” Quimby asked.
“Yes. I have nothing to hide.”
“All right then.” Quimby waved his hand, and we all took a seat, Alex and me on one side of the table and Quimby on the other.
“What have you done today, Mr. Norcutt?”
“I dropped Kate here at six then went on to Parkview Hall to oversee the tear down there.”
“And how long were you there?”
“All day. I got the call about what had happened on my way back here.”
“Who called you?”
“Melissa Millbank.”
I looked down at the table, thinking that despite Melissa’s flighty appearance, she was very astute
.
“So you were in your car?”
Alex nodded. “Right.” As Alex spoke, he kept glancing over at me.
“Did anyone see you leave Parkview Hall?”
“Yes. Beatrice, Lady Stone, walked out with me.”
“And what time was this?”
At that question, Alex shifted his full attention to Quimby and said guardedly, “Around two. We finished up quite a bit earlier than I expected.”
I suppressed a groan as Quimby said with exact diction, “I see.”
Alex’s glance flew to me and then back to Quimby. “Don’t tell me that’s when this…shooting…happened.”
Quimby didn’t say anything, and Alex looked back to me. “Afraid so.”
Alex’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe it.”
Quimby said as his phone buzzed, “Yes, rather odd, that.” He read a message which sent his eyebrows toward his hairline. He tapped out a reply, then carefully set the phone down on the table and fixed his gaze on Alex. “Amy Brown’s car has been found.” Quimby waited a moment and studied Alex’s face as if looking for a certain reaction. “Here in Nether Woodsmoor.”
My gaze was zipping from Quimby to Alex, who looked wary.
“Where?” Alex asked.
“You don’t know?”
Alex’s voice went low. “No, I don’t know. I told you. I didn’t know her. How could I know where her car was?” Frustration and a touch of anger laced his words.
Quimby said, “Amy Brown’s car was found in the small car park at the bike trail that goes from here to,” he paused to consult his text message, but Alex sagged just a bit, and I knew that he’d already guessed which bike trail Quimby would name, as I had. “Here it is. Upper Benning.” Quimby put his phone down, clasped his hands, and leaned forward over the table. “The local constable informs me that it is quite easy to get from the car park to the path behind Cottage Lane. Just a short walk.”
“Yes. I’ve walked it many times,” Alex said, his voice clipped.
“The gray car.” I shifted toward Alex and gripped his arm. “I saw it yesterday when I walked down to the store.” When I was in the church hall, I’d heard Quimby and the other investigator describing Amy Brown’s car, but I hadn’t made the connection.
Alex waved a hand. “See. There you go. Probably everyone who lives on Cottage Lane cuts through there sometime.”
“Hmm…possibly. But you were there recently. In fact, you parked there the day Amy Brown died. It’s in your statement as well as Ms. Sharp’s.” Quimby’s gaze shifted to me for a moment.
I crossed my arms and sat back. “We weren’t looking at cars in the parking area, Inspector,” I said. “We had been blocked from going down our street because of a fire. We wanted to get back to our homes. I didn’t pay any attention to the other cars in the parking area.”
Quimby shifted his attention back to Alex. “But perhaps Mr. Norcutt did.” Quimby leaned farther over the table. “You saw the car, knew it belonged to Amy Brown. She was in the bike race, which you’d both participated in a few days earlier. Perhaps you…connected with Amy then, but now that Ms. Sharp is here…well, maybe you didn’t like it that Amy had returned to Nether Woodsmoor.”
“And I murdered her?” Alex said, incredulously. “No. If your little story that you’ve made up were true…if I’d met her at the bike race, and she returned but I didn’t want her here, I’d just talk to her.” Alex had been speaking quickly, but now he slowed down. “But it doesn’t matter because I didn’t meet her at the bike race. I didn’t know her.” He said the last sentence, slowly, spacing out each word. He stood, shoving his chair back roughly. “I thought honesty was the way to go here. I’ve laid out what I know—very little—but since you insist on seeing everything in the worst possible light and fabricating motives out of thin air, I won’t speak to you again without an attorney.”
Alex stalked out of the kitchen, right into the pouring rain. I stood and carefully pushed both chairs under the table. “If he hurt that woman—Amy Brown—because of me, then why would he shoot at me? That’s what you’re implying. You can’t have it both ways—that he killed her to be with me and then turned around and tried to kill me. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does if you’re the person who can link him to Amy Brown. You saw them together.”
“I didn’t see them together. I saw her walking behind him. I never said they talked or even acknowledged each other.”
“But you didn’t stay to watch what happened,” Quimby said flatly.
“You can’t really think Alex had something to do with Amy Brown’s death.”
“It’s the direction the evidence is pointing, Ms. Sharp. I just follow the evidence.”
Chapter 12
I TOSSED UP THE HOOD of my raincoat and sprinted for Alex’s MG, catching up to him and sliding into the passenger seat seconds after Alex closed his door. The rain drummed against the soft top of the convertible.
Alex shot me a surprised glance. “Are you sure you want to ride with me? There are still a few folks around. I’m sure one of them can give you a ride.”
Almost everyone had cleared out, but I had spotted the parking manager collecting cones, and Jeff stood beside a constable in the shelter of the alcove of Coventry House’s front door.
“Don’t think you’ll get out of giving me a ride so easily. Of course, I’m riding with you.”
Alex smiled weakly. “I understand if you don’t want to, Kate. Quimby thinks I murdered...good grief, I can’t even remember her name,” Alex said with a bitter laugh. “Too bad Quimby isn’t here to witness it. Of course, he’d just assume that I had a one-night stand with her and wanted to get her out of my hair now that you’ve shown up.”
“Alex, don’t.” I shifted sideways to face him, pressing my shoulder into the seat. “I don’t think you had anything to do with Amy Brown’s death. You’re the only suspect he has. That’s the reason he’s focused on you.”
“Right. Amy Brown. It’s such a forgettable name.” He rubbed his forehead. “But it won’t be long before he shows up at my door with search warrants, looking for her DNA or something that will link me to her.”
“But he’s not going to find anything.”
“No,” Alex said, but in a tone that indicated it wouldn’t matter. Alex started the car and drove slowly down the drive and through the gates. Once back on the road, he turned the wipers to high, picked up speed, and we both fell silent. I was sure Alex was preoccupied with his conversation with Quimby, but I was thinking more about why someone would want to shoot at me. Had I just been an easy target in my yellow raincoat for some mentally unhinged person who’d decided today was the day to take a few potshots at a random person?
“Kate.”
“What? Oh, sorry,” I said, realizing the car was stopped directly by the front gate to my cottage. “Lost in my own thoughts.”
“What were you shaking your head about?” Alex asked.
“I don’t understand why someone would shoot at me. I was trying to work out if it could be some random crazy person, but I don’t think so.”
Alex dropped his hand from the wheel. “I’m a jerk. That—discussion—I had with Quimby completely wiped everything else out of my mind. Are you really okay?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah. I mean, I feel a little skittish.” I glanced around, taking in the dark trees bunched at the end of the lane. “I want to think it was a mistake, but that’s not likely is it?” I rushed on before he could reply. “But then if it was on purpose, and Quimby seemed to think it was, why would someone shoot at me?” I pushed Quimby’s explanation out of my mind. Alex wouldn’t kill Amy Brown in the first place, so I couldn’t be a threat to him.
“I don’t know.”
“Am I a threat to someone?” I asked. “Do I know something…did I see something that I haven’t realized? But that can’t be what happened because I certainly didn’t see the murderer. You and Amy Brown were the only people on the pa
th. I don’t know any more who murdered Amy Brown than…than…Inspector Quimby.”
“You’re absolutely sure you didn’t see anyone else on the path that day besides me and this Amy Brown?”
“No. There was no one else.” I settled my tote bag on my shoulder as I prepared to step out of the car. “Maybe it was to scare me, but again…why? If I didn’t see anything, why frighten me? Unless of course it’s someone who doesn’t like Americans and just wants me to leave. Oh, wait, I think I just described Elise.”
Alex turned the car off and pocketed his keys. “That would be going a little far, even for her. I’ll come in and take a look around for you, make sure everything is okay.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“Kate, someone shot at you today. I’m not going to drop you off at an empty house and drive away casually.”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
The rain pummeled us as we came up the path, and we were soaked by the time I got the sticky door lock open. We fell into the entry, cascades of water dripping off our coats and shoes.
“I’ll try not to make any more of a mess,” Alex said, gesturing to the puddles of water. He hooked his waterproof jacket on the door handle, then worked off his shoes and left them by the door. “I’ll just have a quick look around.”
I hung my jacket on a hook by the door and wiped my damp hands on the back of my jeans.
Alex looked around the front room. “Intriguing choice of décor.”
“It’s a great conversation starter, I’m discovering.”
“I can see how it would be. I assume you’re going for irony. Utilitarian furniture contrasted with the excessively cozy surroundings to make a point.”
“What, you don’t like it?”
“Err—actually…”
I laughed. “I’m not nearly so deep. Leftovers from the prior tenant.”
“Ah. I see. Yeah, it’s not really your style,” he said as he checked in the kitchen then took the steps two at a time to the loft.