He nodded and tapped his pen on the paper. “Understandable. I’ll try and be quick.” The slight upturn of his lips softened the effect of his rigid jawline.
I rubbed my arms. “Thanks. Do you mind if I grab a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge?”
“Hey, Lorenzo! Pull a water out of that fridge and bring it here,” Barrett called out.
His eyes were a warm brown that matched the color of his hair. The summer sun had deepened the shade of his skin to bronze, and his tall frame was fit and muscular. A tiny scar traced a faint white line around the corner of one eye. The shape reminded me of a crescent moon. As if he knew I had noticed, he raised a finger to scratch the spot.
“Thank you.” I took the bottle from Lorenzo and swigged nearly half the water, desperate to drown out the fear and panic. “I only met her yesterday.”
Barrett arched his brow.
“Fiona Gimble. We talked at this evening’s painting event.”
“You’ve mentioned that.” He flipped the notebook to a blank page. “Did anything unusual happen this evening? Arguments or something that struck you as odd? How about your conversation with the victim?”
I shivered at hearing the word victim. “Right now, I can’t recall anything unusual.” My comment was sort of true. All the glares from the merchants weren’t anything new. Fiona’s snide remarks were hardly a secret since, according to Izzie and Megan, she peppered her column with them.
“Hmm.” He rested the pen on the notepad and raised his chin. “What do you do in New York?”
I blinked, totally caught off guard by the direction his questioning took. “I work in art supplies.” I refused to go into detail about my job and career mishaps.
“You mentioned you came to Whisper Cove to help your sister start her business. I don’t know many employers who let their people up and leave for, how long did you say? Several weeks?”
I shifted my weight and leaned back. My face heated. “Business is slow.”
“I see. Any other reason why you wanted to get away?” He tilted his head.
A prickly sense of irritation rose to the surface. I anchored my hands on my hips. “What does any of this have to do with that poor woman’s murder? My life in New York isn’t important.”
He shrugged. “I disagree. Every detail is crucial. For all I know, you came here because you’re running from the law. Or could be you knew Fiona from another time and held a grudge against her.” He crossed his arms and rolled back on his heels. “Lots of scenarios to explore.”
My anger spiked and simmered under the surface. “Well, I never—”
“Oh, my poor baby!” Mom rushed into the storage room and cradled me in her arms.
Dad was on her heels, giving the detective an evil-eye glare.
I gently freed myself from the tight hold and stepped back. “Mom, Dad, this is Detective Barrett.”
“We know who he is.” Mom puffed her cheeks. “Weren’t you the one who framed that unfortunate lady who lives up north on Haymaker Run? Not a smart way to start your job, if you ask me.”
“Now, Katy.” Dad patted her on the shoulder. “We’re here to support Chloe and not spread rumors about Detective Barrett, who I’m sure will do his best to find the killer. Right?” He puffed out his chest and continued glaring.
I clenched my jaw. The call for their help had been a mistake. I’d tried Izzie, but again, her phone had gone straight to voice mail. “Say, why don’t you both go out front and grab something to drink from the fridge while I finish answering the detective’s questions?” I squeezed each of their hands, then gave them a tiny push toward the doorway.
“But—” Mom frowned.
“I’ll be fine.” I spread my lips into what I hoped was a positive smile.
“Don’t worry. I only have a couple more questions, and then she’s all yours.” Barrett looked and sounded almost relieved to say he’d be done with me soon.
I scowled. Once we were alone, I pulled back my shoulders and lifted my head. “Okay, then. Let’s get this over with, Detective Barrett.”
He pulled a stick of gum from his pocket and popped it in his mouth. “Would you like some?”
“No, thank you. What I’d like is to get this interrogation over with, if you don’t mind.” I fanned my face with both hands. By now, emotional exhaustion was taking over. I could barely keep on my feet, but I doubted he cared.
Barrett chewed slowly for a few seconds. “What makes you think this is an interrogation?”
“Well, isn’t it? You, the detective, are asking me, the suspect, questions.” I sputtered my words.
He chuckled. “Who said you’re a suspect, Miss Abbington? Unless you think you should be.”
“I—can we get on with it?” I waved an arm. “We have a business to run and lots to prepare before our grand opening event, which is less than twenty-four hours from now.” Why did I let him get to me? After all, he was a detective doing his job.
He shook his head. “Sorry, I can’t let that happen. This place is a crime scene. Until I say we’re finished, your shop remains closed.”
I blinked, and my heart pounded. At once, the reality of what happened this evening hit me hard. “Okay. I—um—yes, I understand.” I patted my pockets, searching for my phone, then remembered the crime team had taken it. “Do you think I can have my phone back for a minute? I need to call my sister, Izzie.”
He pointed his pen at me. “About your sister. Shouldn’t she be here this evening?”
A queasiness rolled through me. I clutched a hand to my stomach. From the corner of one eye, I saw Mom flailing her arms in all directions while talking to one of the crime team members.
Dad attempted to pull her away, but with no success.
His voice grew louder, asking her to calm down. However, nothing worked when she grew anxious.
“If you’ll excuse me for a minute?” I rubbed the back of my neck and struggled to keep my nerves in check. Without waiting for his response, I hurried to the front.
“Mom, I think you should go on home and wait for Izzie.” I turned to Dad. “Don’t you agree that would be best?”
As if I’d handed him a lifeline, the officer slipped away and back to work. I waited until he reached the other side of the room, then snapped my head around to glower at my parents. “What the heck was that all about? Mom, you were moving your arms like you were winding up to take a swing at him. Not smart.”
“I overheard the man spouting off about Izzie.” Mom sniffed.
“About Izzie? What did he say?” I didn’t like the sound of that. If the police knew Izzie had made snide remarks about Fiona, not to mention her wish to run the woman out of town, those nasty details wouldn’t look good to them. Then add her vanishing act this evening to the story with no explanation as to where she’d gone? Barrett would be locking her up and tossing the key in Chautauqua Lake.
“He claimed she and Megan were causing a stir and bad-mouthing Fiona. He—boy, does this make me hopping mad—he said he wouldn’t be surprised if one of them killed the woman.” Mom gritted her teeth and balled her hands into tight fists.
“That shouldn’t happen, ma’am. If you point out the officer, I’ll be sure to reprimand him for his conduct.”
I gasped as Detective Barrett spoke over my shoulder. How much had he heard? Somehow, we had to get out of here and warn Izzie. The situation was looking worse by the second.
Mom pointed. “That tall man with short red hair. I believe his name tag said Collins.”
Barrett made a note then looked at all three of us. “Where is Izzie, by the way? I’d like to speak with her.”
“She’s out of town on business.” Mom blurted out the words.
I sighed. “She had another appointment. It was urgent.” I hoped he’d buy the excuse. The blank expression on his face gave me no clue.
“Oh, my.” Mom sobbed and covered her mouth.
Two crime team members pushed the gurney through the shop. Thank goodness a bo
dy bag covered Fiona and the gory details of her murder. I blew out air to ease the tight feeling in my chest.
A rather short and balding man followed close behind the gurney. Once he reached Barrett, he stopped. “Can I have a word?”
Barrett stood off to the side and leaned close to the man’s ear. After a curt nod, he returned. “The coroner needs me, so I won’t keep you. Please let Izzie know I’ll be in touch.”
Mom and Dad headed for the door, but I hung back. I wanted answers. Why was Fiona behind the shop in the first place? What or who had brought her there? I suddenly remembered what happened before she left the event. I paced over to where Barrett stood, engaged in conversation once more with the coroner.
“Her body temperature dropped only a couple of degrees.” The coroner swiped his phone with the tip of one finger. “Sharp object hit the jugular vein.” He cleared his throat, then paused and nodded at me. He pocketed his phone. “I’ll give you the rest back at the precinct, Hunter.”
“Thanks, Ed.” Barrett took a moment to spit his gum into a cup. “Hate when it loses the sugary taste, don’t you?”
I shrugged. “I hardly ever chew gum.”
He set the cup on the counter and pulled one of the evidence bags from a box.
I flinched. The sight of the object inside, with its bloody tip, made me regret my decision to stick around. I wiped clammy hands on my thighs.
“Does this look familiar?”
I swallowed then pinched my bottom lip with my finger and thumb. “Um … I think that’s a painting knife.”
Barrett nodded. “The weapon used to stab the victim.” Looking down, he ran his fingers along the zipper closure of the bag. “I have to admit, I don’t know a painting knife from a kitchen knife.” He lifted his chin and nodded. “Thank you for clearing up that mystery.”
My heartbeat flip-flopped. I fell hook, line, and the proverbial sinker for the bait he’d cast. I stabbed the air with my finger. “Doesn’t mean it came from our shop.”
He dropped the bag into the box then turned. “You seem defensive, but it’s natural after what you’ve been through. I’m not saying the murder weapon, that being a painting knife, is from this shop. However, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t consider the possibility. Don’t you agree?”
I blinked. A painful lump of defeat lodged in my throat and left me unable to speak.
“Was there something else?” He bent down to lock the lid on the box. “Otherwise, I think we should call it a night. My team is finished for now, and you look beat.”
I pressed two fingers to my neck. My pulse was racing. I took a breath. “I remembered a detail that happened right before Fiona left the event.”
“Oh?” He pulled out his pen and flipped open his notepad.
“She got a phone message and was texting, really fast, like it was urgent. She had this scowl on her face, as if she was angry about something.” I shook my head. “I’m not sure. Then she said a quick goodbye and left a little before nine.” I grew quiet while Barrett scribbled notes.
“You have any idea who she was texting with?” He stopped writing and looked up.
“How would I—no, I don’t.” I sighed. “Why not check her phone?” I didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but his raised brows hinted I failed to hide the surly tone.
He rubbed the line of his jaw with one hand. “No phone on her. The killer most likely took it.”
“Meaning, the killer might be the one she was texting?” I grew tense as my chest tightened and cut off my breath.
The crime team hadn’t found a phone on her or in the shop. However, if I was the texter, I had plenty of opportunity to ditch the device and to delete any messages on my phone. Barrett’s gloomy stare and his dead silence told me he was thinking the same thing. Fine, but where was my motive? I bit down on my lip. Izzie and her shop. People would do just about anything to help protect family. Even murder? I shuddered to think someone could be that desperate.
Barrett raked fingers through his hair. “Look, Miss Abbington. Chloe. Is it all right if I call you Chloe? I’m not jumping to any conclusions. That’s not the way I do things.”
“I heard the coroner.” Panicking, I picked up speed. “He said the victim’s temperature dropped only a couple of degrees. I watch lots of cop shows, and what he said means Fiona died within the last hour, and that means she was murdered while I was here alone. I—”
His hand gripped my shoulder. “Chloe, I have an investigation to run and several leads to follow. What you told me about Fiona’s texting helps. Every detail helps. I’m not accusing you of anything. Please, go home and get some rest.” He pulled a bag off the shelf and plucked out a device. “You can have your phone back. The team’s all done with it.”
I cleared my throat and steadied my wobbly legs. “Sorry. It’s been a terrifying evening.”
“Of course it has. Now, we’ll talk tomorrow. Here’s my card, in case you remember anything else. Meantime, don’t forget to let your sister know I’ll need to speak with her. Oh, and perhaps you should put a sign on the door?”
“Hmm?”
“Closed for business until further notice.”
“Right.” I rummaged through my bag until I found the spare shop key. “Here you go. Please lock up when you all leave. We don’t need to add vandalism to the list of crimes committed this evening.” I nodded. “Thanks, Detective Barrett.”
“Hunter. Call me Hunter. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” He smiled and pulled out another stick of gum.
I waved. Yeah, I knew that trick. Pretend to make friends, get me to relax, and, all at once, I would let my guard down and spill all sorts of details that made me look guilty. “Nope. Detective Barrett works best for me, thank you.” I walked out of the shop.
As I reached my car and slipped into the driver’s seat, my phone rang. Staring at the screen, I slumped down and opened the call. My voice trembled. “Izzie. Where have you been?”
“Sorry. The evening’s been crazy busy. How’d the event go? I’m anxious to hear all about it.”
“Oh, you’ll be anxious, all right. Izzie—” I gripped the phone. “Izzie, something horrible has happened. Fiona is dead.” I winced as she gasped.
“What? How?” Her words ended with a hiccup.
I explained in as few words as possible about the murder. “The sight of her was so awful. Then that Detective Barrett with all his questions had my hair on end. Even worse, Mom and Dad came. They didn’t handle matters well. I never should have called them, but you weren’t answering your phone. Where were you?”
“This is terrible.” Izzie whispered her words.
“I know. How awful for her.” My head pounded. The sight of waves lapping against the lakeshore nauseated me.
“And for my shop. How will the business survive after a murder happened there?”
My throat tightened. “Izzie. A woman is dead. Don’t you think—”
“Of course. I don’t know what I’m saying.” A nervous titter released. “Poor Fiona. She may not have been friendly or kind, but no one deserves that.”
Was it my overly suspicious mind at work, or did her words sound emotionless and without a hint of sincerity? “Okay. I’m wiped and need some sleep. I’ll see you at home.” I stabbed the end call button before she could say another word and pulled onto the road.
Sure, the business could suffer, but we had more important concerns. Fiona was dead, and, as far as I knew, Izzie and I might end up Detective Barrett’s prime suspects. Without a doubt, my alibi sucked. I had been alone in the shop doing cleanup. I had access to sharp objects, like painting knives. I clenched the steering wheel, picturing the look on Barrett’s face when he showed me the evidence bag with the bloody knife. Thank goodness I hadn’t touched anything from the crime scene. Barrett and his team wouldn’t find a single print to match mine.
I turned onto Sail Shore Drive. Reaching within a few yards of the house, I spotted Izzie’s jeep. What about
her alibi? If she had been with someone this evening, he or she could prove Izzie was nowhere close to commit the crime. I groaned. Lots of pieces needed to fall into place before I’d stop worrying.
I parked behind Izzie’s vehicle and sat for a while. Through the front window, I could see into the living room. Izzie pulled the curtain shut and turned off the light. Coming to Whisper Cove was supposed to be my turning point and the chance to do something worthwhile by helping Izzie with her shop. I rested my chin on the steering wheel and closed my eyes. Only, right now, instead of sharing the opening of Paint with a View, we were sharing a murder.
Chapter Four
“I can’t tell you. I promised.” Sitting next to me on the edge of the boat dock, Izzie dipped her toes into the water.
A gull cried as it dove to catch a fish, then flapped its wings until it soared into the air once more. I tugged at the clamshell brim of my sun hat to shade my face from the morning sunlight. “Who did you promise?”
“I can’t tell you that, either.” She kicked her foot and splashed water on both of us. “Maybe we should talk about when to reschedule my grand opening, since the date I planned is ruined, all because the shop is a crime scene and off limits. The murder happened outside. Detective Barrett is being difficult.” Her lips curled into a pouty expression.
“He’s being thorough and doesn’t want to overlook any evidence, inside the shop or out. In case somebody at the event last night turns out to be a killer, you know?” I scratched the top of Max’s head.
“Seriously?” Izzie threw up her arms. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, of course. I’m thinking like a detective, and you are sidetracking the conversation. Even if you won’t tell me your whereabouts, the detective will want to know.” I pulled my feet out of the water and turned to face her, tucking one leg under the other. “In fact, he might suspect you’re trying to hide something, which doesn’t usually go over well in a murder investigation.” At the very least, she shouldn’t keep secrets from me. We’d always had that sister bond and supported each other. It was like she didn’t trust me. I reached for her hand. “Look. You have an alibi, so tell him. Then he can scratch your name off his list of suspects. Isn’t that how it works?”
A Brush with Murder Page 4