“Anyway, I heard a woman screaming and altered course to make sure that nobody needed my help.”
Willow had gratefully received the benefit of Reg’s sharp observation skills at nighttime before and nodded in recognition.
“Well, when I reached the cabin where all the noise was coming from, the voices had died down a bit, so I waited outside just in case.” He blushed and shook his head. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything, I was just careful. I couldn’t bear to think about leaving if a woman was in trouble. Imagine if I did, then found out that something terrible had happened the following day?”
“It’s okay, Reg,” Willow said, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. His skin was as dry as old parchment but far softer. It moved easily beneath her fingers. “You don’t have to apologize for trying to help someone.”
“But I didn’t help anybody, that’s the problem.” Reg gave a sigh and returned his gaze to the window once more. “Just when I was about to leave, the couple inside the cabin yelled again. They were in a big fight over their relationship. I’d turned to go when the lady inside flung the door open and shoved the man out. She told him that if he didn’t want to see her any longer, that was his prerogative, but she’d see him in hell before he laid his eyes on another woman.”
Willow knew what was coming. She sensed it from the miserable expressions on her friend’s faces and how they’d turned up in a group to offer their support. Still, she needed to ask the question to be sure. “Who were they?”
“The man pushed outside was Angel Strickland, the sound man from the television show. The woman doing the pushing was Thera Bourne.”
* * *
Soon after, the influx of customers had Willow reaching for her apron and getting back to work. Poor Reg seemed more distraught at giving the news than she was at receiving it, so she made sure he had a fresh pot of his favorite tea before serving the other customers.
Even if she’d wanted Reg to keep the news to himself, it was too late. As soon as he saw Angel’s photo in the paper and read what happened, he’d gone down to the sheriff’s office to tell him everything he’d heard and witnessed. Willow liked to believe she wouldn’t have urged him to stay silent but was relieved that she didn’t have to find out.
Despite her best efforts to continue her blind belief in Miss Walsham’s innocence, even Willow had to admit that the evidence was stacking up on the wrong side.
The trek down to the park to watch the filming might be the last show of Miss Walsham Investigates that Willow ever got to watch.
Chapter Eight
After finishing work for the day, Willow felt restless. The weekend stretched out in front of her like a lengthy punishment. It had so many hours to fill, and she had nothing to fill them with. For a minute, she wished that her tea room opened 24/7, then she’d always have something to keep her occupied. After pacing the length of her living room a few times, she headed outside for a walk.
“Are you going back to the park?”
Willow jumped, one hand to her chest where her heart was pounding. “Reg! You scared the life out of me.”
“Sorry,” he said without looking at all apologetic. “I have been calling out your name for the past few seconds.”
“Then I’m the one who’s sorry.” Willow hooked her arm through his. “My mind has been a million miles away.”
“I get like that, too.” Reg pursed his lips and tilted his head to one side. “Far too often lately, in fact. I wish there were something that would keep me grounded like you have your tea shop.”
“Not that it’s doing me any good,” Willow laughed. “I believe that’s how we got on the subject.” She examined her friend more closely. “You’ve still got an important job in this town. Just because you don’t charge a few dollars per day, doesn’t mean we don’t all appreciate your service.”
At that, Reg gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Half the town thinks I’m crazy for what I do,” he said. “And the other half don’t even know my name.”
“That’s not true, and you know it,” Willow scolded him. “Even if they don’t care about the alien invasions, everyone still appreciates you being the eyes and ears of this town at night.”
They walked on a few steps in companionable silence, then Reg stopped and took both of Willow’s hands in his. “I know that you don’t feel that way right now, so don’t worry about pretending. I came by to say how sorry I was for telling the sheriff what I did. If I’d thought about it longer, I might’ve kept my mouth shut.”
“Don’t say that.” Willow stepped forward and gave her old friend a kiss on the cheek. “You did the right thing, and you know it. I’m allowed to feel miserable about it, but you shouldn’t. It’s not the fault of either one of us that you overheard an argument. If Thera Bourne is in the clear, then the truth will come out, just like you had to tell your truth to the sheriff. You never have to worry about my opinion of you when your actions are on the correct side of good.”
A smile played at the corner of Reg’s mouth, then faded away. “It still doesn’t help your actress friend.”
Willow turned back toward the park—a destination she hadn’t even been aware she was headed until Reg spoke. “Well, let’s have a good look at the crime scene and see if there’s something there that triggers my memory. I was so star struck on the day that anything could lurk up here—” Willow tapped her head “—and I wouldn’t know.”
“That sounds a much better idea than my plan,” Reg agreed.
“Which was?”
“Wallowing,” he said with a smile, and Willow burst out laughing.
* * *
The park, which had been a hive of activity the last time Willow saw it, now lay still and silent beneath the early evening sky. All the equipment used on the day remained sitting out in the field. Someone had pulled tarpaulins over many items to protect against the elements while the remaining gear was left to fend for itself.
Although she spotted the table near where the terrible death had happened straight away, Willow didn’t head in that direction. Instead, she guided Reg over to where the star’s trailers were located. Knowing that no one would be back to catch them unawares, she let her curiosity guide her. Soon, Willow’s face was flat up against the outside of the windows, trying to peer through the net curtains on the other side.
“It won’t look any different from the RVs you’ve seen inside before,” Reg said with a laugh. “I don’t know what you expect to find.”
“Maybe I just want a bit of stardust to brush off on me,” Willow said, pulling her face away from the glass. “It all seems a lot more glamorous when I see these things on the TV.”
“That’s how they fool you,” Reg agreed. “The magic of the little box is to make things appear more interesting than they are. Even Aniseed Valley looks good when it’s shown on the telly.”
“Don’t you think our little town looks great, even without that?”
“It looks like home, is what it is. And home is never as exciting as something set far away.”
“This is her one,” Willow said, approaching Thera Bourne’s trailer.
“I can read, you know,” Reg grumbled. “Just because I don’t spend every waking hour at the library like Harmony, doesn’t mean I can’t figure out a signpost on a trailer door.”
“Sorry.” Willow laughed as she realized that the actress’s name was front and center. “I didn’t even see that.”
“Hm. Well, I won’t mention your lack of observation skills in polite company, so you don’t need to worry.”
Willow gave him a mock slap. “I have observation skills,” she said with a huff of indignation. “They’re just always focused on the wrong thing.”
“What are you doing here?” a sharp voice called out as they scooted around the back of Thera’s trailer and headed for Presley Sampson’s instead.
Willow whirled on her heel, her pulse ticking loudly in her throat. She relaxed when she saw it was the rude fan from the day b
efore rather than someone official.
“We’re just having a look, mate,” Reg said in a calm voice. “The same as you are, I reckon.”
“I’m here by request of Presley Sampson,” the fan said, lifting his nose in the air. “Who gave you the authority to come around?”
“We don’t need anyone’s authority to visit our own town park.” Willow put her hands on her hips, remembering how the man strode right across the middle of Trisha’s rug. “And I very much doubt that Ms. Sampson knows you’re here at all.” A little mischievous spark rose inside her. “In fact, I doubt she knows who on Earth you are.”
The fan’s expression altered from imperious to enraged within a second. “How dare you! I’m Presley Sampson’s number one fan. I run three different clubs in three cities plus fourteen forums online. She’s well aware of who I am and what I do for her.”
“Yeah,” Reg said, half under his breath. “You’re the weirdo she can’t wait to get away from every time you meet.”
Willow tried to keep a straight face, but the joke tickled her funny bone in the worst way. Within a second, she was falling about with laughter while the fan continued to grow more furious.
“You need to stay out of here. It’s a crime scene!”
The double-edged sword of his insistent cry came back to bite him a moment later as a deputy wandered into their line of sight. “He’s right, you know. It’s okay to have a look around from the sidewalk, but you’d be doing the sheriff’s office a real favor if you stayed out of the park.”
“A real favor isn’t the same as an order.” Reg stood his ground for a second, then shrugged. “Come on.” He looped his elbow through Willow’s again and tugged her back toward the street. “How about we stay in the deputy’s good books?”
If she hadn’t already seen enough, Willow might have put up a better protest. As it was, there was nothing in the park she couldn’t remember easily enough from the day before.
“We’ll be on our way, then,” Willow said with a short curtsey. “And I suppose you’ll want to escort this gentleman—” she pointed to the rabid fan “—out of the grounds as well.”
The fan straightened up, a look of horror on his face. After staring at the set look on the deputy’s face for a split second, the strange man took off, running deep into the woods that bordered the park on the other side.
“I wouldn’t bother giving chase,” Reg remarked as the deputy looked uncertain about what he should do. “That one’s a right nutter. You’re better off to leave well enough alone. I doubt he’ll get in your way again.”
“I don’t know why it is,” Willow remarked as they walked alongside the park on their way home. “But the whole area seems smaller now.”
“That just shows your memory has enough oomph left in it to play tricks.” Reg turned on his heel and looked back over at the area. The deputy still stood by the trailers, his expression as dumbfounded as before. “That’s why nothing is ever as good the second time as you remember it being the first.”
“Except getting together with friends,” Willow said happily. “That always gets better, every single time.”
Chapter Nine
As they drew up close to the house, Willow realized she’d left the sign for the tea shop out on the sidewalk. She folded the board up and propped it against the side of the house, suddenly too tired to be bothered putting it away in the shop.
“Did you want to come in for a hot drink?” she asked Reg and was secretly glad when he shook his head.
“I’ve got big plans tonight, so I need to get on home and organize myself. Otherwise, I’ll end up forgetting something and ruining the whole evening running back and forth.”
“I’ll see you soon, then.” Willow waved goodbye and heaved a sigh of relief as she shut the door behind her. The day seemed to stretch out an impossible distance from when she’d woken up that morning. If tomorrow did the same, then the weekend would go on forever!
“Hey, Mavis. Do you want a bite to eat before I crawl into bed?” The question was a redundant one. No matter how close to feeding time it was, her kitten was always prepared to tuck into another meal. The Maine Coon cat weaved in and out of Willow’s feet as she opened the can and spooned out chunks of chicken and bacon in gravy.
“This was a delicacy when I was a little girl,” Willow told Mavis as the cat set to work. “My mother would turn over in her grave to think I was feeding such things to a pet.”
Back then, pet food had been a choice of raw mince that had to be cooked up at home and would stink the house out, or whatever leftovers the animals could beg for themselves.
Not that Willow could keep a pet when she was a girl—even if her allergies hadn’t bristled every time an animal came near, her mother would have died rather than take on another mouth to feed. The responsibility of raising a child had nearly been her undoing.
“Do you want to sit on the sofa and watch the TV for an hour, or should we head straight up to bed?”
Willow asked to be polite but was glad when Mavis yawned so widely that it appeared her head would flip open backward. Her eyes were already taking rests with every blink, not bothering to open all the way since there was nothing there to see.
“Tomorrow, perhaps we can take a walk out in the woods,” Willow suggested as she washed out the empty cat bowl and put it on the side of the sink to drain. She picked up Mavis as the kitten seemed set to trip over its own paws and nuzzled into her neck.
The resulting sneeze told her how tired she was if Willow needed another reminder. Her doctor had arranged allergy shots that usually worked a treat, but as soon as her body wound down, the sneezing and watery eyes came straight back.
“Or, you might need to romp around in your playhouse tomorrow.” Mavis didn’t seem perturbed. Although she was rapidly outgrowing the linking tunnels and playhouses that Reg had once built for his own cat, the kitten still found hours of entertainment inside its walls.
Besides, Mavis acted like she was liquid. No matter how big she got, there wasn’t a tiny space she couldn’t squeeze into or through if the cat set her mind to it.
“Night, night,” Willow called out as her sleepy head hit the pillow. Mavis returned a tiny meow just before she drifted off into a dream.
* * *
Willow slept in fits and starts that night. She would talk aloud to people who weren’t there, waking herself and frightening Mavis. The third time she did so, the kitten grew so perturbed that Willow opened the door to allow her to choose a more restful place to sleep. After that, sleep seemed an impossibility. So thinking, Willow fell into a new dream.
She was back at the park, aware of what was happening—had happened—but unable to articulate it to the surrounding people. Mavis scurried under the table to hide, and although Willow wanted to turn and find Angel to warn him, her feet had other ideas.
Her disobedient legs carried her straight to Mavis’s hiding place as the mood of the onlooking crowd took a turn for the worse. They jeered and booed as Willow bent down to retrieve her kitten. Although she wished to yell back at the assembled crowd she would just be a moment, she wasn’t the entertainment they’d come to see, her mouth froze shut, sealing in the words.
With her kitten plucked out of the tangle of wires, Willow dreamed that she backed up, this time diverting at the last second so she wouldn’t bump into Thera. Instead, the woman gave her a nod and walked across to Angel. She patted him on the arm and told him she was sorry for snapping at him earlier. Farther along, Presley and the director Claud made eyes at each other while discussing how she’d take the lead role just as soon as they forced Thera from the show.
The flash from a camera jolted Willow back into wakefulness, along with a new thought. The dream Thera might have been contrite, but that wasn’t anything Willow had seen.
But just because she hadn’t born witness to something didn’t mean nobody or nothing had. “Trisha’s camera,” Willow said to the empty room. She needed to get a look at those photos.
* * *
“Of course, you can sort through them,” Trisha said to Willow’s request much later that morning. “Though I doubt there’s anything of interest on there. The sheriff’s office has already looked, and they saw nothing they thought worthy of mentioning.”
Willow felt a tiny shard of disappointment wedge into her chest and tried to ignore the sensation. It stood to reason that the sheriff would already have thought of checking any photographs taken on the day. Just because Willow hadn’t grown accustomed yet to everybody carrying a camera in their phone, didn’t mean Sheriff Wender wouldn’t think to take a look.
“I didn’t take as many photographs as I thought I would,” Trisha mused as she scrolled to the right starting point on the little screen. “Just a few of Thera whenever she was in the shot. I was hoping to get more when the action started rolling but that never happened.”
“These are wonderful,” Willow assured her as she peered at the tiny screen. The words weren’t just a sop to Trisha’s confidence, either. The frames were filled with people caught mid-movement: laughing, talking, performing for a camera that they didn’t know was there.
“You think so?”
“I do.” Willow flicked through a few more and came to an abrupt end. “You have a real eye for this. I think every single one of these shots is better than any photo I’ve ever taken.”
She flicked back through the images, more slowly this time. With her eyesight, it took a while to recognize the different faces in each image, but once Willow memorized the clothing, it became easier.
“See this,” she said, holding out the phone to Trisha. “The two of them don’t look like they’d had a blazing row the night before, do they?”
Trisha moved closer to gaze at the photograph. In it, Angel and Thera were standing side by side, both of them paying attention as Claud gestured with his arms wide apart.
Tea Shop Cozy Mysteries - Books 1-6 Page 30