Triple Threat

by Koetting, Alexis

  “Do you have a better suggestion?”

  “We don’t even know for sure that seeing someone he recognized is what spooked Al. I know it makes sense that Al would be worried about word getting back to Glynn, but maybe that’s not it at all. Not if they had an arrangement. This could all be a waste of time.”

  “Well, aren’t you a negative Nelly all of a sudden.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You’ve been quiet since Paul mentioned he’d been to the inn.”

  “No, I haven’t! He said that, what, five seconds ago! I haven’t said anything in five seconds, so automatically I’m—”

  “I’m just saying—”

  “Shh,” I said, gesturing toward the kitchen. I could hear the water running and the clatter of cutlery. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. I’m just … frustrated.”

  “You and me both, Samuel.”

  “So what now? We see if any of these people knew Al and then what?”

  “What if it was the other way around?”

  “What?”

  “What if that person didn’t see Al? What if Al saw them?”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “Not even close.”

  Chapter 25

  “We should go too,” Paul said on our way home from dinner. “Not at the same time as Aria and Jeffers, but …”

  “Where?”

  “The Inn. You’d love it!” He moved one hand off the steering wheel and moved it to my knee before adding, suggestively, “We haven’t really had the chance to get away since we’ve been together, so …”

  “Well … I … work most weekends …”

  “We could head up on a Sunday after your rehearsal, spend the day Monday and head back after supper?”

  “That would mean you would have to take a day off.”

  “The clinic would be fine without me for one day.” I was silent. “Or, we could wait until your shows are up and running. Might have a bit more flexibility then. Might even be able to get a couple of days away.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’d have to find someone for Moustache though.”

  “I’m sure one of the techs at the clinic would love to take him. They’re always doing that.”

  “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Of course,” I said, taking his hand from my knee and intertwining my fingers with his.

  “You know, we don’t have to go. If you don’t want to.”

  “I do,” I said. Even as I spoke the words, I didn’t believe them.

  “I just thought it would be nice. I was there for a conference years ago and it sounds like they’ve—”

  “You were there for a conference?”

  “Yeah. Canine orthopaedics.”

  I let out a breath I hadn’t been aware of holding and tightened my grip on Paul’s hand. He took his eyes off the road and stole a glance at me.

  “Bells?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  I didn’t. I didn’t want to admit to him that I was insanely jealous of his dead fiancée and that, ever since he had mentioned having visited the Inn, my mind had been running an X-rated loop of their romantic escape; that I knew our relationship was happening only because she had died; and that I wondered if he would ever love me the same way.

  If? What? How? So many questions sprang to mind. So many assumptions. My insecurities jumped on each one with full force and breathed life into them. I felt my face flush and my hands go clammy at the same time.

  “I need to get out,” I said, self-consciously letting go of Paul’s hand.

  “What? We’re almost there!”

  “Just let me out please. I’m not feeling well.”

  He pulled onto the shoulder. I was out of the car before he’d even had a chance to put the car in neutral.

  “Bells? My god, what is it?” he said, coming around the front of the car to meet me. I was bent over with my hands on my knees.

  “I just need some air. I’m going to walk from here.”

  “We’re so close. Just get back in the car. We can roll the windows down. And when we get to your place, we’ll grab Moustache and walk around the neighbourhood until you feel better.”

  “Paul … I think maybe … I should just be alone tonight.”

  “Bella, what’s going on?”

  “Can we just … talk about this another time?”

  “Talk about what?”

  I was silent. He didn’t push.

  “Okay,” he said. “Will you text me when you get home so I know you’re safe?”

  I nodded.

  He made his way back to the driver’s side door. “Bells, I love you. Whatever’s going on … You do what you need, but know that.”

  I nodded again. “I do.”

  Moustache had built a fort of blankets and cushions on the sofa. One hind leg dangling over the edge was all that gave away his presence. I squeezed in next to him and ran a hand over his belly. He looked at me with sleepy eyes and rolled further onto his back so I could extend my coverage. With my other hand, I pulled out my phone and dialed Natalie.

  “What’s wrong?” she said immediately.

  “Why would anything be wrong?”

  “I got a feeling. What’s going on?”

  I spilled every pathetic detail.

  “Bel, jeez,” Natalie said, when I’d finished. “Why are you so hung up on this?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “She’s gone! It’s over! It was a long time ago!”

  “I know. I know. I know that. I do. But …”

  “But what?”

  “It didn’t end because it was over. She died. It’s different.”

  “Why?”

  “It just is.”

  We were silent for a few moments. Then Natalie came in, gently, “Bella, you are competing with a ghost. And if you are not careful you are going to ruin this.”

  I nodded even though I knew she couldn’t see me. I had run from intimacy my whole life as a means of self-protection, as a way of avoiding re-experiencing the pain of loss. I had filled my quota by the age of eight, and while my heart had miraculously mended and made room for others over time, I knew its broken pieces had been stitched backed together so loosely that the thread could break at any moment.

  “You’re using this as an excuse, Bel,” Natalie said. “You are feeling so much—maybe too much—and it is freaking you out and you are using Laura as an excuse. None of this is about Laura! None of this is about Paul. This is about you and what you do. What you always do.”

  “Natalie—”

  “You have a wonderful man who loves you. And I can’t promise you that it’s always going to be perfect and that you’re going to live happily ever after. But from where I sit, it’s pretty damn good right now. You’ve had enough hurt, Bel. Try something else on for a change.”

  After a few more admonishments from her and some promises from me, we hung up. I turned to find Moustache sitting at his full height, staring at me under a furrowed brow.

  “I suppose you agree with Natalie?”

  The dog gave a snort.

  “It isn’t so easy for me, you know.”

  Moustache gave a groan that would have rivalled any human eye roll, lowered himself to his forearms, and laid his head in my lap. His beautiful brown eyes looked up at me, all our years together shining behind them, showing me just how easy it indeed had been for me to open my heart.

  I stroked his ears. He wiggled further onto my lap and swatted my phone with his paw.

  I fired off a quick text to Paul saying that I’d gotten home safely and that I was sorry.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “It took you long enough,” he said when I’d answered. Moustache jumped up on him, resting his paws on his thighs and bouncing on his hind legs. “I saw you get in and—”

  “I’m sorry. I got caught up with Natalie. I know I was suppose
d to … I’m awful … I should have … I thought you went home,” I said.

  “Do you really think I was going to leave things like that?” He picked up Moustache’s lion and tossed it into the kitchen. The dog flew after it in delight.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  He reached out, took my face in his hands, and kissed me. I could hear Moustache galloping down the hall toward us and, when I opened my eyes, I looked down to find him standing between us, the lion at his feet, his mouth open in a broad smile.

  Paul threw the lion again. “May I come in?” he asked.

  “Of course,” I said, taking his hand and leading him into the living room. “Do you want a drink?”

  “No. I want you to tell me what that was all about.”

  Moustache saw Paul on the sofa, gave up the game of fetch, and ran over to protect his fort. He plumped the pillows, bunched the blanket, and stamped the cushions all before poor Paul could even think about making himself comfortable. With his stake firmly claimed, Moustache stretched out with a snore, leaving Paul with only a small corner on which to sit. He patted the dog’s rump and moved to the floor. I joined him, and he wrapped a strong arm around me.

  “So …?”

  I hesitated. He gave me a gentle squeeze.

  “I thought—when you said you’d been to the inn—I thought you were there with Laura and I was … jealous.”

  “Bells—”

  “I know it doesn’t make sense. You have past relationships. I have past relationships. They don’t matter. Or they shouldn’t, but … she … does.”

  Paul took a deep breath and kissed my head. “She matters to me too. But she’s gone. I have come to terms with that and I have moved on.”

  “How? It took me years after my parents died. In some ways I’m still not over it. How can you have come to terms with it when it’s only been a few years?”

  “It’s been four years and people grieve differently. You know that.”

  “But—”

  “Bella, your parents died tragically. There’s no way you could have been prepared for something like that. And at such a young age. It’s no wonder it has stayed with you. With Laura it was … a relief, to tell you the truth. In death, she finally found peace, and I guess I’ve always been comforted by that. Maybe that’s why it was easier for me. ‘Easier’ isn’t the right word, but …” I leaned into him and put my head against his chest. “Bells, I love you. I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t wish for things to be any different than they are right now.”

  A tear rolled down my cheek and I buried my face into him. He held me close and, lulled by the dulcet tones of Moustache’s snores, I stayed like that, letting all thoughts of Laura drift away and wishing all thoughts of who killed Al Macie would do the same.

  Chapter 26

  I was late for my class with Vince. Jeffers had called as I’d arrived at the school to tell me that the samples from the rag I had taken from the Penners’ barn had not matched the fibres found on Macie. It didn’t rule out any of the Penners, but it meant we had to keep digging.

  I was rushing around to the front entrance when I saw a group of boys exiting one of the side doors and decided to sneak in that way and avoid the lengthy security measures I’d have to endure if I went to the main door. I was counting on the boys not being sticklers for the rules. I was not counting on one of the boys being Leland Penner.

  He purposely bumped my shoulder as I passed.

  “Nice,” I said, under my breath.

  “You got something to say?” he asked.

  “Drop the attitude, Leland.”

  He laughed, and the other boys started in with some ribbing.

  “That’s enough,” I said in my best teacher voice. “Guys, can you excuse Leland and me for a minute please.”

  “I got nothing to say to you.”

  “I said, ‘drop the attitude.’” Leland put his best stare on and I did my best not to let it intimidate me. “I am here in an official capacity, which gives me authority. You do not have to like me, but you will show some respect.”

  “Or what?”

  I channelled every ounce of Emma Samuel’s tough-asnails exterior I could muster. I was determined to hold my ground.

  “Or I’m sure Principal Harvey can find room for you in his office.”

  “Ooo-oo,” he said, feigning fear. “Mr. Harvey’s been friends with Da for years. He’s not going to do anything.”

  “Well then, perhaps I should skip Mr. Harvey and go straight to your dad.”

  That seemed to do the trick. Leland Penner may have held me, Gerald Harvey, and other elders in little regard, but the threat of telling his father caused a fracture in his foundation. And once there’s a crack …

  “Fine. I’m sorry for bumping you,” he mumbled and turned to join his friends.

  “I’m not finished.”

  He turned back to me with a groan. I had Emma Samuel locked and loaded. There was no turning back.

  “You saw someone else. That morning.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When Detective Jeffers asked you if you saw anyone else at the school the morning Mr. Macie was killed, you hesitated and looked to your father.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Who else was here?”

  “I told you—”

  “Who else?”

  “Dude!” one of his friends called. “Are you coming?”

  “We can talk down at the police station if you’d rather,” I said, giving my words more weight than they actually had.

  “Just go on,” Leland said to his buddies. “I’ll meet you over there.”

  His friends headed off in the direction of the McDonald’s across the street.

  “I didn’t see him,” he said to me when he was sure they were out of earshot. “I just saw his car, so I assumed he was in the school.”

  “Mr. Leduc?”

  “What? No. He drives that green piece of crap,” he said, pointing to a green Honda Civic that had, indeed, seen better days.

  “You know what all the staff drive?”

  He shrugged as if knowing such a thing was the most natural thing in the world. “Mrs. O’Connell drives the grey dinky car. Mr. Flynn’s got the Jeep there. Clementine is Madame Irvine’s—”

  “Clementine?”

  “The orange Matrix. She’s a bit crazy.”

  “Okay, whatever,” I said.

  “And you drive the Echo.”

  That he knew what I drove gave me the willies. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to show him that he didn’t scare me, but really it was to steady my trembling hands.

  “I’m only interested in whose car you saw,” I said.

  Leland shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. If I wasn’t mistaken, he looked frightened.

  “Leland, does this person know you saw him?”

  “I didn’t see him!”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. His car.” More hesitation. “Has he threatened you?”

  “He didn’t do anything! He’s not that kind of person!”

  “All right,” I said, changing tactics. “But maybe he saw something that could help us. It would be really great if we could talk to him. No one’s in any trouble. We can leave your name out of it. We just want to talk to him.”

  At that moment, the fire alarm sounded, and students began spilling into the hallway and out the doors past us. Leland looked me straight in the eye as he backed away and blended into the crowd.

  “So he told you nothing?” Jeffers said when I called to tell him about my run-in with Leland.

  “He told me someone else was definitely at the school that morning. That’s not ‘nothing’!”

  “But he didn’t tell you who. Not only that, he didn’t tell you what kind of car, what colour—”

  “It’s more than we had, Jeffers. Now we know for sure someone else was involved. It’s confirmed! It rules out the Penners, Vince—”

  “W
here was Leduc’s car?”

  “What? I don’t know.”

  “He was there that morning. Why didn’t Leland see his car too?”

  “I … don’t know. I don’t see how it matters now. We have Vince’s story. He didn’t do it. And we know there was someone else in the building. And this someone else is very likely Al Macie’s killer!” Jeffers was silent. “Am I the only one who thinks this is good news?”

  “Are you still at the school?”

  The firefighters were still doing their sweep of the classrooms. I was standing off by the side of the road, a little apart from where a number of staff and students had gathered. Some people had managed to grab coats, but most huddled together or bounced on the spot for warmth. It may have been spring, but winter was taking its time packing up its things and moving on out.

  “Yes, we’re just waiting to be let back in.”

  “Leland could be lying, which means the Penners are still very much in it as far as I’m concerned,” Jeffers said.

  “True,” I said in resignation. Jeffers had succeeded in deflating my mood.

  “And see what you can find out from Leduc. Ask him if he saw any other cars there that day.”

  “He told us he didn’t see anyone.”

  “Just ask! And ask him where the hell he was parked. If he left his car off-site, someone else might have done the same. From the sounds of it, everyone and his uncle were at the school that morning. I refuse to believe no one saw anyone else. Someone is covering up something.”

  I caught up with Vince in the hall and made my apologies for having missed the start of class. He was polite and professional but by no means friendly.

  “You didn’t miss much,” he said. “The students had just gotten in their groups for the showcase on Thursday. If you work with one group, I’ll stay with the other. I’ll do a final rehearsal with them tomorrow and then we’re good to go. If that works for you?”

  “That sounds good,” I said. “And I’ll get here early on Thursday to help out.”

  “It’s first thing, so …”

  “So it shouldn’t be a problem. Listen, before we go in, there’s something else I need to ask you.”