by J. C. Kenney
I bit back a spiteful retort and counted to ten in my head. Not all that long ago, I had been in Brent’s shoes. Being accused of murder had been one of the worst experiences of my life, but Matt had been unwaveringly fair, thorough, and guided by the search for truth. Despite my unhappiness with the current situation, his track record spoke for itself.
“I’m sorry, too. I was being unfair. If there’s any way I can help, please let me know.”
Matt surprised me by putting his arm around me. “I can’t imagine how tough this is for you. You’re strong, though. And trust me, we’ll find the killer. The real one.”
I returned to the apartment to find Brent hovering over the stove. The tantalizing aroma of eggs, bacon, and toast made my mouth water.
I was a decent cook and proud of my skills in the kitchen. Brent, on the other hand, was a maestro with a spatula. The meal didn’t matter. When he cooked, it was a production. And a delight to my taste buds.
“Since I’m halfway off the hook, I thought we’d have a little celebratory breakfast.” He sliced a few mushrooms and dropped them onto the eggs. After a minute or two, he flipped one half of the eggs onto the other and sprinkled the omelet with cheese. After adding the bacon and toast, he handed me the plate with a bow.
I spread blueberry jam on my toast while Brent scrambled some eggs for himself. When he joined me at the table, he smiled. “Bon appetite.”
“You’re in a good mood for just being rousted from bed to talk to a police officer.” I chewed on a forkful of eggs and practically melted in ecstasy. There was no way someone who cooked this heavenly could commit something as heinous as murder.
Not that I had any doubts about Brent’s innocence, regardless of Matt’s equivocation.
“Better to be half-exonerated than not at all. To be honest, for a while, I thought I was going to need a lawyer.” He shoveled his scrambled eggs into his mouth like a man who hadn’t eaten in a week. Then again, due to the stress from yesterday’s events, until now his stomach had been too upset for him to eat anything since he’d returned from the police station.
Since I’d eaten some yogurt with fruit before he got up, I slid my half-uneaten plate toward him. He took it without comment and, like a magician, made it disappear in seconds.
After breakfast, I filled our coffee cups and we got comfortable on the couch. Sammy jumped into an opening between us. Ursi, not to be outdone, settled herself on the arm of the couch and bumped my elbow to let me know it was time for head scratches.
“I can’t stop thinking that if I hadn’t been so slow getting dressed or if I hadn’t insisted on stopping to get a card, we might have gotten to the library soon enough to save her. Know what I mean?” Brent scratched Sammy’s ear as the pooch lay his head on his thigh.
It didn’t take Jane Marple to deduce Brent’s question wasn’t rhetorical. The shock of Vicky’s murder had worn off. The denial phase was in the past. We were going to have to come to terms with the sudden, violent loss of one of the most important people in our lives.
What I wasn’t going to allow was to have Brent slip into a deep well of self-recrimination. Asking ourselves “what if” would accomplish nothing. And it sure wouldn’t help catch Vicky’s killer.
Then I had a brain blast. “Let’s go for a walk. The fresh air will do us good and I’m sure Ursi could use some exercise.”
Brent looked out the window. April in Indiana meant the crocuses were blooming, the grass was growing, and the tree buds were popping. It also meant lots of rain.
Today, we had gray skies, but no precipitation. That would work.
A bit later, we were on our way. We had no destination in mind, so we let Sammy and Ursi take the lead. It was enough to simply be out of the apartment and out of doors. Despite the cloudy skies, the breeze from the south provided a touch of warmth. It was a welcome sign that sunny skies and balmy temperatures weren’t far off.
I had to give the fur babies credit for the direction they were taking us. I was a little concerned we’d end up on the Boulevard. While walking along the Boulevard wasn’t in and of itself a bad thing, spending time on the most heavily trafficked street in town would likely mean lots of sideways glances made in Brent’s direction. Neither of us wanted that.
Instead, Ursi, with tail as erect as a flagpole, took charge and led us across the Boulevard and down the street. She didn’t stop until we were in front of Big Al’s Diner, my favorite restaurant in the world. Rachel owned the Rushing Creek Public House, which I adored, but Big Al’s would always be number one in my heart.
When Sammy got up on his front paws to get a look inside the diner, the door opened.
“If it isn’t one of my favorite foursomes of all time.” Al Hammond, the owner of Big Al’s stood in the doorway. A mountain of a man, he took up the entire entryway, but his intimidating size, shaggy hair, and massive beard couldn’t hide the fact he had the heart of a kitten.
He scooped up Ursi with one hand and gave her a nose boop while he scratched Sammy underneath the pooch’s chin, laughing all the while. His shoulders slumped when he put Ursi down and turned his attention to Brent and me.
“I’m so sorry.” He took me in a giant bear hug. “I know how much Vicky meant to you, Allie.”
When he released me, he wrapped an arm around Brent and gave him friendly pats on the back. “You too, young man.”
We chatted about Vicky for a few moments before Al was summoned back to work. Before he let us go, he dashed into the diner and returned with two steaming, to-go cups of coffee.
“The world’s a little colder today. Thought you might enjoy these on the rest of your walk.”
We thanked him and promised to return soon, without Sammy and Ursi, to try Al’s latest lunch specialty, a turkey burger topped with homemade salsa and guacamole on a pretzel bun. My stomach rumbled just thinking about it.
Resuming our stroll, we headed north and soon arrived at an unsettling destination.
The Rushing Creek Public Library.
The building was dark. A hand-lettered sign taped to the inside of the glass entrance door said it was closed until Saturday. Floral arrangements and a few stuffed animals had been left at the foot of the door.
A shiver went through me that even the hot coffee couldn’t overcome. While Ursi sniffed the flowers, I peered inside. A vision formed before my eyes. Vicky was opening the door, apologizing for making me wait even though opening time wasn’t for another five minutes, just like she did during the summers when I was growing up. After a minute, I looked away. It was not to be.
Not now. Not ever again.
“I still can’t believe she’s gone.” Brent pressed his forehead against the glass. “If only I’d seen something. Or noticed something. She didn’t deserve to die like that. I can’t help feeling like it’s my fault.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t even think it. Someone else murdered her, not you. This isn’t your fault.” I turned us around and pointed at a park bench across the street. We hadn’t discussed Vicky’s murder beyond our mutual disbelief.
It was time to change that.
A minute later, we were seated on the bench, with Ursi curled up on my lap and Sammy seated at Brent’s feet. We had the park to ourselves. I was thankful for the chance to speak freely.
“Tell me about the night before last. When you and Vicky were closing.”
Brent rubbed his hands together in a slow deliberate motion. It was a habit of his when he was formulating what he wanted to say about something. “It had been a busy day. I’d spent a couple of days deciding which books should go into the book sale. Since it was the library’s first sale, Vicky wanted final approval on everything. She was preoccupied, though. I couldn’t get her to focus. On top of that, whenever I closed with her, she always talked about getting a cup of tea and then heading to bed with something new to read. That night, she didn’t. I
t was like something was bothering her.”
“Maybe it was her retirement announcement. That was going to be a big change for her.”
“Maybe.” He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had a pained look, and his eyes were filled with guilt. “When I asked what brought about the decision to retire, all she’d say was this day would eventually come.”
Our conversation was cut short when a woman with a floral arrangement in her hands approached us. Her wavy black hair and stocky build were unmistakable. It was Frederica Hampton, the owner of Marinara’s Pizza Place. Frederica, or Freddie as she was commonly known, was also the president of the library board and one of Vicky’s oldest friends.
Brent shot to his feet and offered his seat to Freddie. I had to suppress a chuckle at the deference he was showing the woman. Then again, her opinion would carry great weight when the decision was made to name Vicky’s replacement.
Vicky’s replacement. God, I hated thinking about it, especially given the circumstances.
“Ms. Hampton. Please join us. We were just reminiscing about Vicky.”
“Thank you, Brent.” She shook my hand as she sat. “Good to see you, Allie. How’s your mother?”
We chatted for a few moments about pleasant things before I offered my condolences.
“Thank you.” She looked at the flowers and wiped a tear from her cheek. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. Rushing Creek simply won’t be the same without her.”
“I have to leave town Sunday, but I’ll do all I can to help you and the rest of the library’s staff until then.” Brent looked at the library for a moment, then shook his head. The sadness radiating off him was palpable.
“I appreciate it. I’m sure the rest of the board members do, too. I heard about your trip to the police station yesterday. I hope it wasn’t too traumatic.”
Brent shrugged. “No. It was stressful, but Chief Roberson was just doing his job. He actually stopped by earlier today to let me know I’m pretty much in the clear, so that’s good, I guess.”
“That’s definitely good. I couldn’t see you as the murderer, anyway.”
“You knew Vicky as well as anyone.” I nudged Ursi away from the flowers. “Do you have any idea who would want to harm her?”
Freddie raised an eyebrow. “Are you putting on your private eye hat again?”
I’d made a promise to Brent. But Vicky was my hero. If I could help catch her killer, I would.
“This isn’t about me. It’s about Vicky and getting justice for her.” I flexed my right hand. On some days, especially cold, damp ones, the knuckles still ached from being broken in the act of catching a killer the previous September.
“Agreed.” With her free hand, Freddie scratched Sammy behind his ears. “This time around, arresting the murderer should be a snap.”
“Why do you say that?” Instantly, I was on high alert, ready for any information that would clear Brent and solve the murder in the process.
Freddie straightened her spine and cleared her throat. “I know who killed her.”
Chapter Five
“What?” Brent and I uttered the question at the same time, our shocked response upsetting Ursi so much she jumped from my lap.
My blood turned to ice as I processed Freddie’s claim. A hand squeezed my shoulder. It was Brent. He was leaning on me for support, with his eyes closed and his hand literally over his heart.
I took a deep breath. Composure was needed. When I was calmed down a bit, I asked the million-dollar question. “Who?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” She stared at me for a few seconds then at Brent. When neither of us responded, she tugged on the collar of her jacket. “It was Porter. Had to be.”
“How do you know? Did Chief Roberson talk to you?” My hand had locked itself around Freddie’s wrist. If this woman knew who killed my hero, I needed details.
Freddie lowered her gaze until it fell on my hand around her wrist. I released her with an apology.
“Don’t worry about it.” She grimaced as she rubbed her wrist.
Evidently, I’d squeezed a little too hard. Okay, a lot too hard, but this was critical information.
“The chief talked to me yesterday afternoon, after he released you”—she nodded in Brent’s direction—“and Porter. Since I’m the library board president, he thought it was important to bring me up to speed on the whole sordid affair.”
“And he told you who did it?” I kept my tone neutral, but, on the inside, I was trembling with impatience.
“Not exactly.” Freddie stared at Ursi, who was sniffing her black leather shoes. “But it doesn’t take a genius to know who did it. It was that horrible man Porter.”
I blinked a couple of times as I absorbed the information. Of course, Porter would be a prime suspect. But the murderer? Surely, Matt could have shared that with us. Then again, maybe not, if he had a reason to keep information close to the vest.
“If you’ll excuse me, ladies. I need to take Sammy someplace where he can use the restroom.” Brent squeezed my shoulder and led Sammy toward the other end of the park.
My guess was he needed to be alone for a minute. I couldn’t blame him. He and Vicky had become good friends in the year and a half they’d known each other. It was a relationship vastly different than the one I’d had with her. Their relationship had been one of equals, business colleagues. So much of ours had been a relationship between an adult and a child that, even in recent years, it was still more like that of a mentor and mentee.
Freddie’s brow crinkled as Brent and Sammy took their leave. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset him. I thought you’d like to know.”
“It’s been a trying couple of days. I’m sure it’s nothing personal. What did Chief Roberson say to you?”
“He told me what happened, about you and Brent finding Porter hovering over Vicky’s body. Then he said he’d questioned both Brent and Porter.” She leaned close to me and spoke just above a whisper. “I’d bet my restaurant Porter’s the culprit.”
Now things were making sense. Matt hadn’t made a collar. Freddie was simply guessing.
I despised gossip. In Rushing Creek, rumors moved faster than the luxury car the great Jay Gatsby himself drove. I needed information, though. Even if it lacked a solid basis in fact. While I had Freddie’s attention, it couldn’t hurt to find out what she really knew, or thought she really knew.
“Why do you say that? I thought Porter was a decent guy.”
“That’s what he’d have everyone think, but underneath that friendly façade, he could be scary. People think he had a harmless crush on Vicky, but that wasn’t the case.”
The last part caught my attention. I was among those who figured Porter’s feelings for Vicky weren’t much more than platonic. I asked for details.
“He’d become obsessive. He kept bringing her flowers, even though she’d asked him to stop over a year ago. Sometimes, she’d hang out at my house and vent that she didn’t feel safe when he was around.”
“If she was feeling threatened, why didn’t she go to the police?”
Freddie ran her fingers over the flower petals. “You know this town, Allie. She was afraid that if she made an official complaint, word would get out. She didn’t want to deal with the gossip. I don’t think she ever fully recovered from the nasty rumors about her divorce.”
I racked my brain to dredge up memories of Vicky’s divorce. She and her husband had split up twenty years ago, so my recollections were fuzzy, like an out-of-focus photograph. I’d deal with that issue later, though.
“But if he had a crush on her, why would he kill her? It doesn’t make sense.”
“He wasn’t thinking clearly. Did Brent tell you she was planning on retiring and moving to Florida?” When I nodded, she took a deep breath, as if trying to build up the courage to share her thoughts aloud.
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“I think he couldn’t bear the thought of living without her. He must have overheard her telling Brent and…”
I wrapped my arms around myself, unable to find the words to catch up with the mixed emotions swirling within me. When I finally found the words, they were less than insightful, but it was the best I could do. “So, one of those ‘if I can’t have you, then nobody can have you’ situations, huh?”
Freddie shivered, and I didn’t think it was due to the chilly April temperatures. “When you put it that way, it seems awfully cold, but yes.”
“Wow.” My limited articulation abilities obviously hadn’t improved. Then my brain finally kicked in. “Okay, I get the why, but what about the how? When Chief Roberson stopped by this morning, he said the preliminary autopsy report indicated poisoning was the cause of death.”
Freddie half-smiled. “That’s easy, unfortunately. You know Porter used to own the hardware store, yes?” She reached down and scratched Ursi between the ears. “When he retired, he got really involved with the garden club. Those flowers he brought Vicky? He grew those himself. Wouldn’t surprise me to find out he slipped her some plant-derived poison.”
“Yikes. Forgive me for saying, but that’s kind of harsh, isn’t it?” I grimaced. The thought of someone right here in little Rushing Creek, Indiana, growing something he knew was poisonous was more disturbing than anything out of a Poe story.
And I’d seen with my own eyes some awful things in my hometown.
Freddie clenched her jaw and gave me a long stare. After a silence that seemed to go on for hours, her shoulders sagged. A tear escaped and ran down her cheek. She wiped it away as she sniffed. “Vicky was more than my library colleague. She was my neighbor. She was my friend. I guess my emotions are still too raw to keep my mouth shut, but I want justice for her. I hope you can understand that.”
“Of course. We all want justice for her. The thought of Porter killing someone…” I gathered Ursi and held her close. “He seems like such a nice guy.”
“Yes, well, looks can be deceiving.” She got to her feet. “I’ll just add these flowers to the memorial and then I need to get to work. Come see me at the restaurant. We can reminisce about Vicky over some breadsticks.”