A Buried Body and Barkery Bites

by Aleksa Baxter

  Chapter Eighteen

  Matt made me hold off on telling him my news until after dinner. He said my grandpa had the right idea about priorities and enjoying meals. I secretly wondered if he was just angling for an opportunity to keep me around a little bit longer—not that I minded all that much if he was. I love my grandpa, but there are only so many nights of sitting on the couch eating dinner and watching reruns I can take.

  (I say that, but left to my own devices that's exactly what I did for years when I lived in DC, with only the occasional good night out mixed in. Of course, I worked a lot longer hours back then, too, so most of my nights were work until seven, get home, eat like a zombie while watching something meaningless on the television, and then go to bed so I could wake up and do it all over again the next day. Good times!)

  Over dinner Matt told me about the ridiculous call he'd had to take earlier that day. It seemed Wilhelm had been busy. He'd caught his housekeeper in his home office that morning and fired her on the spot, accusing her of attempted theft. She'd been so mortally offended that he'd even think her capable of something like that that she'd told anyone who would listen about it. And since this was the day each week when she met her extended family of five brothers and sisters and all of their kids for lunch, that turned out to be a very large number of people.

  When Wilhelm found out he called the cops and demanded that they arrest her for smearing his good name. Matt had to inform him that it wasn't a police matter and suggest he call a good lawyer instead, which led to Wilhelm almost getting himself arrested when he decided to throw a punch at Matt.

  "Why didn't you arrest him?" I asked, relishing the thought of that creepy man sitting behind bars for a few hours.

  "Because the satisfaction of putting him in cuffs could never outweigh the headache of dealing with him for the next six months as he sued everyone in sight for the affront to his dignity."

  "I don't know…I think I'd be willing to take that hit."

  I told him about Wilhelm's creepy visit to the barkery and he shook his head. "Well, now that I know that about him, I'll definitely arrest him next time."

  "Good. He needs to be brought down about ten notches." I took a swig of my beer and leaned back. "You still thinking about leaving?"

  He paused a moment before answering. "I don't know. I like it here. A lot. I enjoy helping your grandpa out with the t-ball team. I'm starting to settle in more. But being a cop's hard. Especially when my ex-con of a brother waltzes into town. I don't want to have to arrest him. I'm not sure I can if it comes to that."

  "You're good at it, though."

  He shrugged my compliment off and cleared our plates. As he served up the apple pie and ice cream, I added, "Plus, who knows? Maybe you won't have to arrest Jack. Maybe he'll leave before then."

  Matt laughed a mirthless laugh. "Do you believe that?"

  "No. Not really."

  "Me neither."

  We took our bowls into the living room and sat on opposite ends of the couch. Even with the distance between us it might've been an intimate moment if Fancy hadn't decided to jump up and wedge herself into the space between us, drooling all over herself and Matt in anticipation of pie and ice cream.

  "Fancy!" I pushed on her butt to make her get down, but she just glared at me.

  Matt laughed. "You know, you two are a lot alike."

  He grabbed her sharing plate from the kitchen and set it on the floor by the couch, adding a small bite of apple pie and ice cream. She immediately jumped off the couch and scarfed it down and then looked for more.

  Matt rumpled her ears and dropped another bite of pie onto her plate. "I miss having a dog."

  "They're a lot of work. Don't get me wrong. I love Fancy, but some days…It's like having a perpetual toddler, you know?"

  Fancy whacked her plate with her paw and stared me down, demanding more ice cream.

  When I ignored her and took another bite, she barked at me.

  "Now don't you start with me, young lady. Enough is enough. It is rude to bark inside. You either lie down and behave or you can go outside."

  She harrumphed and put her head down on her paws, still staring at me the whole time like I was some cruel, vicious person who was starving her to death.

  I took three more bites to make my point before finally admitting defeat and giving her my almost-empty bowl. "Happy?"

  She didn't respond (of course) but she certainly seemed to be happy given the gusto with which she licked the bowl clean.

  Matt shook his head as he set his bowl down next to mine. "So. Now that dinner's over, what was it you had to tell me?"

  I filled him in on what Greta had said about the painting and Jack's blackmail attempt as well as Jack's visit that afternoon.

  "Hm. Blackmail, huh? Interesting. Of course, that doesn't give a motive for Kristof's murder. Unless Friedrich caught him trying to steal the painting and killed him for it. But then why not just call it in to the cops as a burglary gone wrong?"

  With the food all gone, Fancy took herself out back, leaving us alone.

  I shook my head. "I have to say…I can't see it in him. Friedrich just didn't strike me as the type to kill someone and dump their body. He'd never get his hands dirty like that."

  "Agreed. I could see him paying someone else to do it, though."

  "Yeah. Fair enough. And whoever did kill Kristof was smart enough to clean up so no one noticed until the body was found. If Hans hadn't gone digging, it might never have been found."

  Matt nodded as he took our bowls to the kitchen and grabbed each of us another beer. It was only Coors, but I hesitated as he held mine out to me. "Maybe I shouldn't. I still have to drive home."

  "You can always sleep on the couch if you need to."

  I turned scarlet even though he was just echoing what I'd said to him the other night. "Pretty sure your brother would have something to say about that given our supposed relationship."

  "Mmm. Indeed."

  Before he could suggest that I sleep in the same bed with him—platonically, of course—I handed the beer back to him. "Some other time, perhaps."

  "Sure." Matt put the beer back in the fridge. "Why does Greta want this painting anyway?"

  "I don't know. I don't even know what painting it is, just that's it's the third of a three-painting set."

  He paced the kitchen, running his hands through his hair until it was messed up in a boyishly attractive way. Watching him pace like that I wondered how much of Jack's fire he had hiding under the surface.

  (What? I'm ruthlessly single, not dead.)

  Finally, he stopped and sat back on the couch. "I'm still not seeing it. But thanks for letting me know. It's a good lead. One we didn't have before."

  "Just be careful, please. I mean, someone did kill him. I'd hate to see something happen to you."

  He grinned at me. "Why, Maggie May Carver, do you actually care about me?"

  I levered myself up from the couch and reached for Fancy's leash. "Oh my. Would you look at the time? I better get going." I shook the leash and Fancy came running.

  Matt stood, watching me with a grin much too much like his brother's.

  I snapped Fancy's leash on. "I'll let you know if Greta clues me in to any other criminal activities. Thanks for dinner."

  He beat me to the door, holding it open but not enough for me to sneak by. "You avoided my question."

  I met those gorgeous blue eyes of his for a long moment.

  So tempting…

  But no. I had…priorities.

  "Yes, I did." I nudged him back so I could squeeze by. "See ya. Thanks again." I raced to my car, dragging Fancy along behind me, never once looking back.

  (I know. I'm a grown woman who should be able to handle a moment like that without fleeing for the nearest exit, but what can I say? There are reasons I'm single. Many, many, many reasons.)

  Chapter Nineteen

  As I drove to work the next morning my mind was preoccupied with the night before. It's
so hard to hold back when you like someone, but it was because I liked Matt so much that I had to hold back. And unfortunately there was no one in my life who'd understand that one. They'd all just say, "Go for it", without realizing why that was such a horrible, horrible idea for me.

  I did manage to accomplish a ton once I got there, though. I cleaned everything in the barkery from top to bottom, updated the online store, and made two batches of barkery bites. All before noon.

  Good thing Jamie had taken a second day off or she would've definitely been asking me what was wrong. And, love her to death, but the last thing I wanted to tell her was that I was spending way too much time and energy thinking about Matt and how pleasant it would be to sit on his back porch drinking beers and watching the sun set every night.

  I did not have time for that. For the thoughts—that were distracting enough—or for Jamie's well-intentioned but misguided intervention in my love life. I was happy for her and Mason, but that did not mean I needed to go down that path anytime soon, thank you very much.

  Fortunately for me, Abe and Evan came in mid-morning to pick up a large order of barkery bites and cinnamon rolls for the Creek Inn and I was able to join them for a quick catch-up while they sampled Jamie's cheesecake.

  "So…" I leaned closer. "Tell me, who did Jack Barnes go home with night last night?" (Because I just knew he'd hooked up with someone the way he came on to every single woman in sight.)

  Abe frowned at me. "Jack hasn't been to the Inn."

  "Are you sure?"

  He chuckled. "Trust me, darling, Jack Barnes is the type of man you don't forget. If he'd made it to the Inn at any point since he returned to town I would know."

  "But he told Matt that's where he was headed."

  "And since when does Jack Barnes tell the truth? Especially to a cop? Must've been headed somewhere he didn't want Matt to know about."

  I quickly changed the subject to the latest small town scandal—a local girl who'd had a torrid affair with some Austrian ski instructor over the winter and was now knocked up—but after they left I picked up my phone to call Matt and let him know.

  And then I stopped myself. What business was it of mine if Jack hadn't gone to the Creek Inn the night before? He was a grown man and Matt wasn't his keeper. I decided to just let it go. As Jack had said so eloquently when he came over for dinner, it was none of my business.

  Our lunch rush was unusually slow that day and I realized it was because none of Luke's crew, half of whom seemed to eat at the café every day, were there. And Greta's house staff hadn't been there that morning either. She employed two sisters who carpooled into work together and always stopped by for their coffee and a cinnamon roll each morning.

  When Greta and Hans didn't arrive at their usual time, I figured maybe Greta had given everyone the day off and had stayed home to enjoy the peace and quiet. But my gut told me it was something else. Unfortunately, I didn't even have Greta's number to call her.

  But I did have Luke's.

  Cringing at the very thought of talking to him—although it was better now that Jamie had left him behind for Mason—I called his number.

  "Maggie. To what do I owe the pleasure?" he purred into the phone.

  "Hey, none of your guys came into the café today. You working them to death or what?"

  "No. Greta texted me and said to take the next couple of days off."

  "The next couple of days? I thought you guys were going to be hard-pressed to finish all your work before the weather turns?"

  "We are. Now we probably won't make it at all. But the client speaks and I listen. You should try it sometime."

  "Haha. Funny. When did she text you?"

  "I don't know. Middle of the night."

  "She texted you in the middle of the night and told you not to show up at her house for the next couple of days?"

  "Yep."

  "Alright. Thanks."

  That gut instinct of mine had turned into a cramped feeling of dread.

  Not knowing what else to do, I called Matt.

  His phone rang forever and I wondered if he was screening my calls, but he finally picked up. "Maggie. What is it?" He sounded distracted, but it was too late to hang up at that point.

  "I'm worried about Greta. She didn't come into the barkery today and Luke said she texted him sometime in the middle of the night and told him not to come in for a few days. I'm pretty sure she did the same with her house staff."

  "She's probably fine, Maggie."

  "Yeah, probably." But I didn't believe it. "Any chance you could swing by and make sure?"

  "Sorry. Can't. I'm tied up here. Some guy tried to pick-up a young girl walking down the highway in Creek but she ran to the police station and he drove off. We're all out trying to find him."

  "Oh, yeah, okay. That's definitely gotta be you priority." I picked at a spot on the counter, not knowing what else to say but not really wanting to just let it go either.

  "I can ask one of the officers in your area to swing by if you really want me to," he said, but I could hear the strain in his voice. He was tracking a child predator. What was my gut feeling that something wasn't right up against that?

  "No, that's alright. Thanks for the offer, but I'm sure it's fine. Hope you find the guy."

  "Me, too." The note of steel in his voice made me kind of hope someone else found the guy instead of Matt. He was a good stand-up guy and a good cop, but someone who tries to abduct a kid? That person deserves some rough treatment. And even a good man can cross the line given the right circumstances.

  Chapter Twenty

  I paced the store for another half hour before I finally decided to run by Greta's house myself. I packed up a slice of Jamie's heavenly lemon cheesecake and a box of cinnamon rolls so I'd have an excuse for dropping by, asked Betty if she minded sticking around for another hour and keeping an eye on Fancy, and then I headed out.

  I knew it was probably nothing. And I honestly am not a fan of just dropping in on people—maybe because when I'm home alone I run around barefoot in my pajamas and am never fit to entertain company—but I had to be sure she was okay.

  Her house was on the top of a nearby mountain with expansive views of the entire valley. I call it a house, but really it was a full-blown mansion. Two stories with wings of rooms off of a central entryway and a manicured lawn that stretched away in all directions. There was even a fountain in the middle of the arched driveway to complete the look.

  (A fountain? Seriously? In Colorado? Someone should remind her that this was not Italy. That thing was going to be frozen solid come winter. And we weren't exactly overflowing with excess water to be wasted on something like that. Rich people, I'm telling ya.)

  There were no vehicles anywhere in sight, but there was a six-car (or more) garage off to the side of the house where I assumed Greta and her husband would park. Not necessary in the summer, but good practice for the winter.

  I stepped out of my van into the most serene silence. I took a moment and looked towards the valley, letting the complete awe I felt at the beauty of nature overwhelm me. It was glorious with the green valley spreading into the distance, the white puffy clouds in the sky, the mountains rising up on either side with the sunlight lighting their peaks. And all of it beneath an incredibly blue sky.

  For one moment I regretted not taking the path of excessive wealth.

  But then I reminded myself that this kind of opulence was what my heirs would've enjoyed after I'd slaved for decades in air-conditioned offices and spent my life on trans-continental flights and living in hotel rooms. If I'd taken that path and had a ski home like this, I would've maybe spent ten days a year in it and probably spent each one of those in my office working and ignoring the view.

  Or so I told myself.

  Because there was always the Greta route. Marry a geriatric billionaire and achieve instant wealth.

  Unfortunately, my heart seemed to run more to handsome cops who lived in trailer homes. (Although, Matt's home did ha
ve a stunning view as well…So maybe I could have it all still.)

  I didn't hear a dog barking, but then again, Hans wasn't exactly the barking type. Or maybe Greta and her husband had just decided to go away for a few days and hadn't wanted anyone around while they were gone. There were no obvious signs of danger or violence from what I could see.

  I almost left right then, but there was just something in my gut that told me I had to see this through.

  I slowly walked up the three front steps and rang the bell trying to decide whether the ongoing silence was peaceful or ominous.

  No one answered.

  I tried to look through the glass on either side of the door but it was stained glass and too thick to see through. I put my ear to the window, but couldn't hear anything either.

  I paused, trying to figure out what to do next. I was tempted to step into the beautifully manicured bushes next to the entrance and peer through the large window there, but that seemed a little extreme. Instead I followed a path around to the back of the house, thinking maybe someone was out back or…something. I didn't know. I just knew that now that I'd started things, I had to finish them.

  I still didn't see anyone or hear anything, just a couple birds singing in the trees behind the house, but I kept going, looking around for a sign of…whatever.

  I was busy telling myself what I fool I was for thinking something was wrong when I reached the back door.

  It was open. Not by much. Maybe an inch or two. Like someone had tried to pull it closed but hadn't quite managed to do so.

  I approached it carefully, trying not to make a sound just in case. I looked around, waiting for someone to jump out of the bushes or run at me from the garage, but nothing happened.

  I stopped in front of the door. There. Right on the edge. A dark smudge. One that looked a heckuva lot like blood.

  That worried feeling in my stomach solidified into a gut punch.

  I'd been right. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.