Purple crocus flowers lined the sidewalk to the church, poking through the melting snow and glistening in the early afternoon sunlight. The last funeral I’d attended was my father’s seven years before. In some ways there were similarities. Both my father and Sammy had been murdered. Both their services were well attended. It felt like half of Kansas City had shown up for my dad’s funeral. He was a beloved detective, who’d been on the police force for a couple of decades. Anytime a cop was killed, the community united—especially when an officer was killed in the line of duty, the way my father was, in a crime that elicited an outcry for justice.
It felt like most of Estes Park was cramming into the tiny church. There wouldn’t be room for everyone to have a seat. Similar to an officer being killed, anytime someone young was cut down, people banded together in the face of the tragedy. And of course, like my father’s murder, like any murder, there was scandal. When my dad had been buried, there’d been several suspects already in custody, but not so with Sammy, which only made it all the more salacious.
Katie and I closed the Cozy Corgi for the day out of respect for Sammy. After Katie’s initial shock at my family’s arrival the night before, she had almost seemed like herself during dinner. Even after. Once we got back to my house, she made a quick apple crisp, and we lost ourselves to The Great British Bake Off, as normal. I didn’t press about Katie’s life or her theories about who might’ve shot at her, and she didn’t offer. The only reminder that it wasn’t a normal night had been the sound of the police cruiser driving by quietly from time to time.
Upon waking, Katie was anything but normal. She appeared somber, pale, and slightly shaky. As we found seats near the back of the church, Katie’s hand trembled, causing the funeral program with Sammy’s smiling face on the cover to crinkle. Katie’s gaze seemed fixed on the closed casket at the front of the church. From her other side, Leo peered across her and cocked a concerned eyebrow in my direction. He was clearly worried. I gave a little shrug, not sure what to do.
The rest of my family squeezed into the remainder of the pew and took up a large portion of the one behind. On my left, I noticed my mother’s hand trembling as well. I’d become more and more aware of that recently, of the subtle signs she was getting older. At the moment, though, I couldn’t help but attribute it to being at a funeral. As far as I knew, she hadn’t been to another since burying my father.
I couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t get lost in the memories from all those years ago. In almost every way, I was a completely different person. If the woman I had been back then met the woman I was now, there would be some similarities, some unchangeable core qualities, but they’d practically be strangers, tied together by the love of their father, yet such completely different women with nothing but seven long years between them.
I shoved all that away and focused on being the newest version of Fred Page. I kept my right hand in Katie’s left, fulfilling the role of friend. I kept my left hand in my mother’s right, fulfilling the role of daughter. But I put my eyes to work. What if Sammy’s murderer was in the church at that very moment? Maybe had even arrived early and was near the front?
At that thought, I noticed Carla sitting across the aisle several rows up. I almost did a double take. She sat by a man I assumed was her husband, and held a tiny swaddled form on her chest, dipping her chin to whisper. Maverick Espresso Beaker. I couldn’t find his name humorous in the situation. A matter of days old and already at a funeral. It seemed a little early to me to have a baby out and about, but children had never been my thing, so what did I know? There was nothing wrong with children. I’d just never given them all that much thought. What seemed even stranger was that Carla would make an appearance at all. As far as I knew, the last interaction she’d had with Sammy had been a screaming, threatening tirade. And here she was, sitting in front of her casket. Had she come to gloat?
I reprimanded myself as soon as that thought crossed my mind. Of course she hadn’t. Maybe she’d come by way of apology, some effort to clear the air?
In the first row, I noticed Sammy’s family. Not only were they obvious from their grief-stricken appearances, but because I saw two other versions of Sammy, two other versions of Katie. A woman in her forties and another probably around seventy. Mother and grandmother, I assumed. It took all my effort not to glance over at Katie, to compare their features. Any other time I might have suggested a DNA test. The likeness was uncanny.
It also struck me as odd that I’d never met them. I hadn’t even noticed Sammy’s family never came into the shop. At least not when I’d been there.
Surprise surged through me again when I saw Mark, his wife, and Glinda. I almost didn’t recognize them. I wouldn’t have, if not for his size. Mark had abandoned his wizard robes for a black suit, and while Glinda’s black dress was still of the gossamer variety, she’d left her fairy wings at home—either that or they magically disappeared when she left the shop.
Suddenly, I realized the other woman wasn’t Mark’s wife at all. Stupid notion now that I thought about it; his estranged wife wouldn’t be with him at his girlfriend’s funeral. I should’ve recognized Susan instantly given her similar build to her brother, but I wasn’t used to seeing her out of police uniform. She had on a loose-knit black sweater, and her brown hair which was normally pulled back into a short tight ponytail fell softly around her face. Honestly, I was nearly as surprised to see Susan as I would’ve been if Mark’s wife really had attended. Susan had made it clear she had no use for Sammy or her relationship with Mark. It seemed she took her role of being a sister as seriously as she did being a cop.
Maybe the woman was starting to grow on me. Weird.
So there were my suspects, all grouped together. Carla, Mark, and Glinda. The only one missing was Mark’s wife. Only they weren’t suspects, not anymore. I’d been chasing the wrong lead. Sammy hadn’t been killed because she’d turned Carla in to the Better Business Bureau, nor because she’d been seeing a married man, or legally separated man, whatever.
I refocused on Sammy’s casket. Had her murder truly been nothing more than a mistake, simply due to a twist of genetic fate and being at the wrong place at the wrong time?
As the preacher began to speak, Katie’s grip tightened in mine and she began to sniff, clearly trying to keep her renewed crying at bay but failing royally.
That mistaken murder had made it where I still had my best friend by my side, and despite myself, I couldn’t keep from being grateful. But even so, that casket was testament that Sammy’s life had been wasted, for nothing at all.
Even as I thought it, I wondered if I was jumping to conclusions. Maybe Sammy truly had been connected to this somehow. Maybe somebody had a vendetta against her and Katie, but I couldn’t imagine it. Nor did it feel right. Somehow, though so very, very wrong, I was certain Sammy’s murder was nothing more than a miscalculation. That felt right. It also felt horrible. Murder was never good, but still….
As I looked around the sanctuary, at stoic face after stoic face, of new friends, acquaintances, and people I’d never seen before, again I wondered if Sammy’s murderer was there. Sitting close to us, staring at Sammy’s casket, irritated at themselves for their mistake, while occasionally glancing our way, staring at Katie, and promising they weren’t going to mess up a third time.
My thoughts were cut off as Katie lost her battle with self-control and quiet sobs began to rack her body. I turned to her, preparing to wrap my arm around her shoulders, but I was too late. Leo beat me to it, and he pulled Katie to him. She ducked her head and buried her face in the crook of his neck.
He whispered something and made slow sweeping circles over her back.
I couldn’t pry my gaze away from his strong hand soothing Katie. I blinked and my breath caught in my throat. Maybe I’d missed other things besides the point of Sammy’s murder. Things I hadn’t noticed right under my nose.
Perhaps it was nothing more than friendship. Katie, Leo, and I had been on our
way to becoming a new version of the Three Amigos over the past few weeks. Or so I’d thought. If there was any chink in the armor of simply being friends, I thought it was between Leo and myself. I still caught something in his glance every once in a while when he looked my way. An undercurrent of tension between the two of us that didn’t place him as completely in the friendship category as I liked to pretend.
I must’ve been wrong, or there had been a change I hadn’t noticed.
A pang of loss cut through me, which surprised as much as it stung. I wasn’t so ignorant that I hadn’t toyed with the possibility of Leo becoming something more as time went by.
It seemed that chance wasn’t meant to be. Or I’d blown it, waited too long.
I shoved both the emotion and the thought away. I hadn’t been looking for a relationship or wanting one. And even if I had, this wasn’t the time or the place. Sammy’s life had been wasted. And Katie’s was in danger. That was all that mattered.
As our large group exited the church after the funeral service, Branson caught my eye from where he waited at the bottom of the church steps. I looked back to tell Katie I’d only be a second, but she was saying something to Percival. Leo noticed, though. He glanced at Branson, back at me, and gave a nod.
There was that look again. The one I saw from time to time. The one that had accompanied his flirting when we’d first met but had faded over the past weeks.
Or not. I’d done a fairly decent job of solving a few murders since moving into town, but apparently I was no more advanced in the romance department than I had ever been. The old Fred Page was still present and accounted for.
I held up a finger, letting Leo know I’d only be a moment, and then hurried to Branson.
“Hey. Thanks for all you’ve done with having the police department check on Katie and me. It really makes this easier.”
He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Gotta keep you safe.” He flashed a smile, but his gaze darted behind me, and I was certain it landed on Leo. “Looks like you’ve got your whole gang together.” When he refocused on me, I didn’t have to wonder at his expression. It was clear. There was both challenge and jealousy in his eyes.
If he’d seen what I’d noticed during the service, he wouldn’t have needed to bother.
“Yeah, we’re trying to surround Katie with as many family and friends as we can, both to keep her safe and to give her some support. I didn’t quite realize how hard this was hitting her until today.” I wondered how much to share but decided I wasn’t betraying Katie in any way. “I think she’s feeling guilty. It really is such a waste that Sammy died for nothing.”
Branson shrugged again, and his expression shifted. “I wouldn’t say for nothing. Your best friend is alive. That’s a pretty big something, right?”
I started to respond but didn’t know how. He didn’t sound cold necessarily… just… matter-of-fact? I wasn’t sure. Either way it was unsettling. Though, not really fair. Hadn’t I thought something similar a couple of different times since discovering Katie was the target?
Then he was all business. “Have you gotten her to open up at all?”
“No.” I shook my head. “She still says she isn’t the target. That the shooter must’ve thought she was me that night. But I can tell she doesn’t actually believe it.”
“That’s ridiculous.” He looked over my shoulder again, and this time his eyes narrowed, his irritation clear. “It’s a complete waste of time and not helpful at all. She’s fortunate. I can’t blame whoever it was getting her and Sammy mixed up, but Susan was right—missing her twice by the river the other night was pure sloppiness. Whoever it is has no idea what they’re doing. Which on the one hand has kept Katie alive so far, but it also makes them more dangerous. Less predictable. The sooner Katie can get it together and help us figure out where to start, the quicker we can end this.”
And once more, though cold, his words echoed some of my feelings. Maybe that was why they annoyed me as much as they did. They sounded horrible coming from Branson’s lips, but were an echo of my own sentiment. “This isn’t easy for her. It only makes sense that she feels guilty, that Sammy was killed because they looked alike. You can’t expect her to get over that with a snap of the fingers.”
“Yes, I can. And she needs to, especially if she’s hoping not to be the next funeral we all go to.” His green eyes leveled on mine, both hardening and growing in heat. “More importantly, the longer she takes, the longer you are in danger by association. If you can’t get her to open up tonight, I’m going to bring her into the station for questioning tomorrow.”
I flinched and straightened to my full height. “You can’t do that. She hasn’t done anything wrong. And if anything, that will make her even more closed off.”
A small smile cracked his lips. “That’s one of the things I like about you. Your temper can flare quicker than striking a match.” Despite his words making me even angrier, he chuckled. “I know you well enough to realize that’s my cue to go.” He gestured around us. “Don’t yell at me. Remember we just got out of a funeral.”
I sputtered—actually sputtered—and was so mad I couldn’t find the right words. Especially when his words were accompanied by that grin of his. I’d read of such things happening before, but I’d never experienced it.
“I’ve told you before, Fred. You’ll always be safe with me. And I’ll keep that promise. Even if I have to shake some sense into your friend to do it.” He offered a little nod, turned, and walked away.
I stared after him for several seconds. I had a crazy notion of bending down to pull off one of my cowboy boots and chuck it at the back of his head. I gave in to the fantasy for a heartbeat, picturing him smacking face-first into a pile of snow. I even pictured Susan chugging over to give me a high-five. The man was obnoxious. Cocky, overprotective, and controlling, but the most annoying part was his continued ability to say things I was thinking and leave me feeling like a jerk.
Making sure my expression was controlled, I turned around and headed back to Katie and Leo and my family.
Maybe it was good. With Branson’s voice echoing around in my head, it would keep me from saying something I’d regret with Katie and pushing too hard.
They quieted as I approached.
“Any news?” Mom sounded hopeful.
“No. It’s hard to know where to begin with no motive.” And see? I did it right there, less than thirty seconds after being irritated at Branson for the very same thing. I took an opportunity to remind Katie we were waiting on her. I could’ve said a billion other things—mentioned there wasn’t anything back from the DNA sweep, or if they’d found a thread of fabric caught in the tree the shooter had been in—any of the number of questions I hadn’t even thought to ask Branson. Nope, just like him, I laid it all at Katie’s feet.
“Well, I think we all need a good reminder that we’re alive.” Barry slipped his hand into Mom’s and addressed the group. “How about we all go grab a bite to eat somewhere?” He glanced at Katie, Leo, and me. “You three have been hanging out a lot at Habanero’s. Want to do that?”
I started to say it sounded good, but Katie was quicker. “Actually, I appreciate the offer, but I’m feeling the need for a little regrouping time. I think I’m done with large crowds for the moment.” She hurriedly pointed at me as several members of my family started to object. “I’m not saying I’ll be alone. I’ll be with Fred. I just need… some time. But thank you.”
Once they were convinced she wasn’t going to bolt, goodbyes were exchanged and my family headed off. Katie turned toward Leo and me. “I’d like to talk to both of you, actually.” She glanced down at her hands, gave a shake of her head, and looked back up. “And I need to give these something to do. How about we go to the Cozy Corgi? We can order something in, and I can bake. If there’s any way I can get through this, I’ll need to bake.”
Get through this? I almost clarified, but I thought I knew what she meant. Or at least what I hoped she meant. Mayb
e Katie was ready to talk.
“Of course, sweetie.” Leo threw an arm around her and gave a quick squeeze again. “Whatever you need.”
Sweetie. That was new, too.
Katie didn’t seem to notice, so maybe it wasn’t new to her. She smiled over at me. “We both know Watson’s going to be snotty from being left at home alone. You want to get him and meet us at the shop?”
It took me a second to answer. Katie and I had driven in together, and now she was going to drive with Leo. I started to look at him but stopped myself. I was being ridiculous, as Branson would say. Especially about something I said I didn’t want. The only things that mattered were keeping Katie safe and figuring out who was trying to kill her.
“Brilliant idea. I’ll grab Watson and meet you guys there.”
I was nearly to my car when I heard my name being called. Pausing, I turned around and found Regina and Penelope Garble, dressed in black and heading my way.
Regina was a few paces ahead of her sister and still waving as she came up to me. “We were hoping to run into you. What a happy coincidence.”
Happy coincidence? I looked back at the church as if I might have accidentally gone somewhere else and hadn’t remembered. “You were hoping to run into me at the funeral?”
She nodded, unperturbed. “Yes, just awful what happened to your employee.”
“Just awful,” Penelope repeated, while still staying behind Regina and not managing to sound any more authentic.
Regina didn’t wait. “We spoke to your father yesterday.” Her brow creased. “Stepfather, I mean. Sorry. I knew he owned the property before you. I thought maybe he still had some investment or claim to it. He assured me the property is one hundred percent yours now. He’s a character, that one. He wanted to buy our properties, not the other way around.”
Penelope nodded emphatically. “Made a rather astounding offer, actually. I didn’t realize quite how much value we had on our hands.”
Savage Sourdough (Cozy Corgi Mysteries Book 4) Page 11