“It looks like one of those thriller movies. When a man does something dreadful and later, the wronged party gets a pack of his friends together to take revenge. When I first looked at him, lying dead in a ditch, I thought someone must’ve been hunting him.”
“I don’t watch thriller movies.” Willow tried to gather herself, but it was a lost cause. Her limbs felt limp and heavy, refusing to move on command. “Perhaps that’s why.”
“I probably shouldn’t either. There’s enough stuff like that going on in my day job.” Sheriff Wender looked a tad embarrassed, as though he shouldn’t have put voice to such a wild theory.
“Oh, no!” A memory came to Willow, and she sat up straight, suddenly galvanized by a flood of adrenaline through her system. “I know who might have done it.”
The sheriff looked at her in surprise. “The murder?”
“The car. I went around to see Timothy Kruller yesterday.”
“Yeah. You told me.”
“I thought at the time, it seemed out of character. He had engine grease on his hands. I think he was the one who vandalized Matthew’s car.”
Chapter Twelve
After her brief flood of excitement, Willow felt exhausted. The sheriff had finished with her statement and when she asked if she could leave, he waved her out the door. With him rushing off to visit with Timothy, he didn’t stop to see if she needed a lift home, even though he’d driven her to the station.
Luckily, it was a quick walk but even the time out in the cold air couldn’t revive her. As soon as Willow stepped inside, she settled down onto the couch for a nap.
A knock woke her an hour later. To her delight, Charley stood on the doorstep, looking very handsome with his slicked-back hair and crisp shirt and jeans.
“Did we have plans?” Willow asked anxiously, wondering if her mind was starting to slip.
“Not that I know of,” Charley said with his usual cheeky grin. “A fellow’s allowed to get dressed up for no reason, isn’t he?”
Before she could give him much of an answer, he had his head stuck in her cupboards, trawling for a snack. He pulled together a handful of odds and ends left over from past assaults on her supply cabinets, then sat down on the couch and took her hand.
“Have I told you lately how much I like spending time with you?”
The twinkle in his blue eyes snatched Willow’s breath away, and she mutely nodded.
“That’s good.” He dropped his grasp for long enough to peel the plastic off a wedge of cheese, then picked it up again. “I’d hate for you to think I took you for granted.”
“Why would I ever think that?” Between the late night, the recent nap, and the strange line of conversation, Willow felt the day was slipping away from her. Was this what Alice felt like in her first steps through the looking glass?
“No reason. Just thought that we’ve been chumming along for quite some time now and I know sometimes I forget to tell people how important they are to me.”
“Are you ill?” A stab of fear pierced Willow’s chest, and she squeezed his hand so tightly he jumped, dropping his half-eaten cheese. “Did the doctor say something to you?”
“Eh?” Charley stared at her in astonishment before taking advantage of the two-second rule. “What doctor? I haven’t been to see a doctor.”
With her eyes closed in relief, Willow waited for her heart rate to calm back down to normal and for the day to start to make sense. “Why are you telling me all this out of the blue, then?”
When looked again, Charley was blushing. He wolfed down the rest of the food and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I just thought…”
He trailed off and Willow’s pulse sped up again, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, her life was about to go spinning off track. For the past few months, she’d had everything she wanted. A nice man to spend time with. Friends. A business to nurture and call her own.
It was all going to come to an end.
“The guys down at the bar thought since we’ve been going out so long, you might want our relationship to progress onto another level?”
The doubt in Charley’s voice almost made Willow burst into laughter, but the worried furrow in his brow stopped her.
“Are they the only reason you think that?”
He looked at her as though she was a final exam he hadn’t studied for. If he understood the question, getting the right answer would be a pure fluke. “Yes. I mean, no. I mean… I love you and I want to get married.”
Charley nodded his head as if he’d just made his mind up on the spot. As Willow tried to read his expression, she thought it more than likely that was the case.
“You know I’ve been married before,” she said.
“Yeah.” He looked worried again. “Didn’t I say it the right way?” Charley rubbed his palms on his jeans again—his palms must be sweating. “I could go out the door and come back in and try again if you want?”
Willow took both of his hands in hers, feeling the heat pulsing through his palms. She thought of her deceased husband Molly. She remembered how sometimes, she’d crept around the house like a mouse, scared anything she did or said would be the wrong thing. She remembered how it felt to find out the big decisions in their lives had been made without any consultation.
“I made a mistake and married a man who I didn’t know very well and should never have been with. I wasted a lot of years feeling miserable and at fault, and I’m sure it wasn’t a walk in the park for Molly to be married to me, either.”
Charley nodded and swallowed his throat clicking. “You won’t marry me because you don’t want to make the same mistake again,” he said as though it was the only conclusion.
“I won’t make that mistake again.” Willow squeezed his hands, trying to get Charley to meet her gaze. “The first reason I won’t, is that you’re nothing like my husband. I love you, too. Every time I pick up the phone and hear your voice or answer the door to see you standing outside, it makes me happy. You have nothing in common with Molly and I’m so grateful for that.”
“What’s the next reason?” Some of Charley’s impish grin was struggling to make it back onto his lips again.
“I don’t ever want to marry again.” Willow squeezed his hands again, then let go. “These days, when it’s not the be-all and end-all for respectability, I struggle to understand why anybody would. If I needed the government and a license to tell me what my relationship was, I’d be a very sad woman. Unless you have a pressing reason to get married”—she glanced at Charley but he was shaking his head—“then I’d quite like to continue just ‘going out’ if you don’t mind.”
The expression of relief that crossed Charley’s face would have been an insult under any other circumstances. As it was, Willow felt the same emotion flood through her body and she collapsed into giggles.
“Although, I’m sure you’d love having me around every minute,” Charley said, “I’m glad I don’t need to find out if my housekeeping habits would drive you crazy.”
“You mean, like eating everything in my cupboards, unless I nail it down?”
Charley offered her a cookie from her own packet as though it was a gift he was bestowing upon her. She took it and snuggled in under his stretched-out arm. He really was the most comfortable man to sit beside on a sofa. As Mavis jumped into her lap and padded on her skirt until it was the right shape to settle down, Willow saw the similarities.
“I was actually more worried about my habit of stripping off my paint-spattered shirts and leaving them draped over the banister until my wardrobe is completely bare.”
Willow laughed, able to picture the scene perfectly. Then she gasped and sat up, earning a sharp meow from Mavis.
“What?” Charley half-rose from the sofa, his face a mask of concern. “What is it?”
The disconnected pieces of evidence came together in Willow’s mind until they fit like a perfect jigsaw. For a moment, she felt like she embodied the character of Miss Walsham Investigates, j
ust before the big reveal.
“I know what happened.” Willow’s voice rang out with confidence. “I understand now what went on in the Prebbleton’s field.”
* * *
“He wasn’t a poacher,” Willow explained to Sheriff Wender, “but Howard and Tess didn’t know that. I think they must’ve set up booby-traps around their property—at the old shed and the rusting car—where they left cans of paint to fall and mark anyone hiding out there.”
The sheriff clicked his pen, on, off, on, off, until Willow thought she’d go mad with the sound. Every nerve in her body was twisted to its tightest setting. The lights in the station appeared too bright, each sound too loud. Especially those noises which annoyed her under normal circumstances.
“Want to give your pen a rest, mate?” Charley said, providing yet another reason for Willow to love him for eternity.
The sheriff looked startled but stopped clicking. After a few seconds, he laid the pen down on the table and folded his hands in his lap.
“When Harmony and I were inquiring about the paint, we had confirmation the Prebbleton’s had brought it in the past. I never gave it a second thought after that. I’d just wanted to find out who might have made the ‘alien’ in the first place. Once the target moved on to Wilber, I forgot we’d already ascertained Tess and Howard had bought the stuff.”
“Buying a few cans of paint doesn’t mean they had anything to do with Matthew’s death.” The sheriff’s smooth voice played a mean solo on Willow’s last nerve.
“I know that. You have to listen to everything to understand how it fits together. One, the Prebbletons had the paint. Two, we know there was a paint can out by the rusting car, and I think if you ask Wilber nicely enough, he’ll confirm that’s where he got coated in that muck.”
“Let’s just pretend for the moment that Wilber Mount has cooperated and confirmed that for a fact. Where does that get us?”
“The Prebbletons were angry and scared about their cattle going missing. They need the money from the sale of those heifers to ease their debt. Otherwise, they won’t make it through to harvest this year. They’d asked Reg to keep an eye out, but he hadn’t seen anything.”
When Willow glanced at Sheriff Wender to check he was keeping up with her logic, he twirled his hand. Keep going.
“Wilber as good as told us why. He was surprised to see Reg out there at this time of night because he’s been going home earlier, ever since starting his tours. The poachers learned his routine and used it to their advantage. So long as they didn’t head out until after midnight, they’d avoid him out spotting.”
“That makes sense.” The sheriff pulled his notebook out and riffled through the pages. “We’ve had a few noise reports at night that coincided with the poaching but were never able to find the culprit. Each time, it’s been well after midnight the calls came in.”
“Right. But when Reg went out to the Prebbleton’s and saw the ‘alien’ it was only just past eleven. I thought it must’ve been Wilber and Reg just didn’t recognize him because of the shock of his appearance. Now, I don’t think it was Wilber at all. I think the first booby-trap caught Matthew Albert.”
“That’s why he stripped off his clothes.” The sheriff sat forward and pulled his keyboard out. Willow held her breath for a moment as he typed—it must be important to warrant using the machine. Sheriff Wender still preferred to do things the old-school way when he could, using pen and paper and his memory.
“The pathologist’s report says there were signs of the luminous paint on the decedent.” The sheriff tapped again at the page, then swapped to his mouse to scroll through the information. “Yep.” He tapped on the screen. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time because it’s everywhere. Every time I think I’ve got the stuff cleaned up, it turns up in a new location.”
“Matthew must’ve walked to the Prebbletons house to ask for help and got a face full of paint as he went past, or even sheltered inside the old shed. He then ran into Reg who started screaming and ran off, announcing the aliens had landed.”
Willow ducked her head down to hide a smile, tinged with sadness. She knew from her own experience how frightening a sight it was, to see a glowing man emerge out of the darkness. Reg had fled the first time, but he’d held his ground when they ran into the second man. He’d protected her, even though he must’ve been frightened again. She must remember to tell him that and ease his mind about being a coward.
And Matthew Albert, distraught, cold, covered in muck and with a broken-down car, went toward him for help only to send Reg fleeing in terror.
“I don’t know if he knocked on the Prebbleton’s door or if they just heard the commotion and came out. Whatever happened, there must’ve been some sort of confrontation or sighting. One of them issued a warning shot—the one that struck Matthew in the side.”
“The poor man,” Charley muttered, and Willow had to agree. Matthew Albert might have cheated a few townsfolk out of money, but he hadn’t deserved what happened to him. A terrible confluence of strange incidents that resulted in his death.
“Once he’d been hurt, I think Matthew stripped off his clothing, so they couldn’t see him to shoot again. Given that he ran away, and got quite far from the house, it’s possible they didn’t even know they’d hit him.”
The image of Tess’s white face, struck with horror at the sight of a glowing man, recurred to Willow. But you’re dead, Tess had whispered just before fainting, mistaking Wilber for Matthew Albert.
“Without any clothing on a night bitter with cold, he wouldn’t have lasted long,” Sheriff Wender mused. “Especially not when he was losing blood. If he’d only gone back to his car, he might have made it through the night okay, but I suppose he thought that was the first place they’d look.”
When Willow first put the pieces together, she’d felt an emotion close to exultation. Now, having recited those same facts to the sheriff, she experienced the empty ache of loss.
Sheriff Wender ordered the deputies back out to the farm, this time on the instructions to search out the shed for paint and to look for abandoned items of clothing. When he finished his instructions, he seemed surprised to see Charley and Willow still sitting there.
“Thanks for everything,” the sheriff said in a warm voice. “But we can take it from here. It’s a good theory but we need to be able to prove it.”
As Willow walked out of the office, she leaned hard on Charley for support. The gray skies of winter dragged at her spirit, turning her insides just as dull and lifeless. Instead of the triumph of solving a complicated puzzle, there was no reward.
“How about we order in something nice for dinner and sit on the sofa, vegging out and watching TV?” Charley looked at her with a concerned gaze, his blue eyes searching.
“You pick the restaurant,” Willow said, forcing a smile. “I’ll just grab a glass of water.”
She walked into the kitchen, staring blankly out at the garden. The turned earth had dried out with the recent frosts, turning a chalky gray. Except for one corner of the raised bed. There, Willow could see the first bright green shoots of the daffodils raising up out of the ground to greet the spring.
Willow swallowed her water and turned back to the lounge with a renewed sense of hope. Yes, there was death and grief and awful things happened. So, too, there was life, and kittens, and good men who needed to be teased.
Chapter Thirteen
“And here we are. The end of the tour.” Reg led his group of eager followers into the room, giving a grandiose sweep of his arm. “Feel free to order anything you like, so long as you pay for it.” There were a few giggles. “If you’d like any further information on anything, please see Harmony for a brochure.”
Harmony rolled her eyes at Willow before turning to greet the tourists determined to extract every last local fact from the tour. Since she’d teamed up with Reg, the tours had become enriched with more accurate detail, while her partner continued to add the spark.
“Oh, I swear. If we didn’t cut these groups off at twenty, we would’ve been leading an entire woman’s bowling team around the place as well.” Reg might be grumbling but Willow could easily sense the pleasure behind the words. To be a hit, and at something he’d never even dreamed of trying, must be a satisfying feeling.
Rather like starting up a herbal tea shop in a country that thrives on coffee!
Willow sorted out the tour guests, ensuring everyone was seated and had their orders before she made her way over to her two friends. “How was it this morning?”
Harmony and Reg had been thick as thieves the previous weekend, making a large adjustment to the middle of the trip. Since Reg no longer spent every waking hour stalking creatures from another planet, he had free time to spare. Thankfully, he put it to good use.
“I think it’s much smoother now we lead them on the natural progression of history through the town. With a few embellishments here and there, we’re off to a good start.”
“Perhaps a few less embellishments,” Harmony added, “and a few more hours spent memorizing the facts, and it’ll be even better. Some of these old tales don’t need any more pizzazz. They’ve got enough deceit and intrigue without any being made up.”
“Ah, but then every tour would be exactly the same, and that’s no good for either of us. If we don’t add a bit of spice, here and there, we’ll grow bored, and that’ll be the end of us.”
“I don’t think you’d ever grow bored with our town or grow boring.” Willow moved away to catch an order for a second round of ginger slice, then rejoined them. “Considering the demand for your services, though, perhaps it’s time you upped the price.”
“Really?” Reg pursed his lips and exchanged a glance with Harmony. “Because we’ve both been thinking of moving to a different payment model.”
“Oh, yes?” Willow thought of the burgeoning stack of bills by the counter. As usual, she had more than enough to cover the current month, but she couldn’t quite rid herself of the fear that the next month might be different. “What’s the new idea?”
Tea Shop Cozy Mysteries - Books 1-6 Page 49