Death by Auction

by Alexis Morgan

“Perfect. I’ll text you when Zeke and I get back from our walk.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  And if she crossed her fingers that Valerie wouldn’t make another earlier-than-expected return, she kept that to herself.

  * * *

  The drive-in was located a couple of miles outside of town along the river. Since the weather was nice, Abby and Tripp decided to stop and eat at one of the picnic tables by the water. After the past few days, she could use the momentary escape from reality.

  While they waited at the drive-up for their order, Tripp glanced in her direction. “You doing okay over there?”

  She leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes. “Yeah, I am. It’s just been a really long day.”

  “Sounds like it. Valerie told me about the ladies wanting to have her arrested. I’m not sure if it was because of the murder or because she is staying at your house.”

  Abby smiled a little. “Actually, for both reasons. I convinced them to give her the benefit of the doubt for your sake.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  She angled herself in the seat to look more directly at Tripp to better gauge his reaction to her next piece of news. “On the other hand, Gage threatened to throw me in your old cell and lock the door. He even said he wouldn’t allow you to bring me cookies or one of Gary’s burgers while I was a guest in the Snowberry Creek jail.”

  Tripp’s eyebrows were riding low over his eyes when he looked at her again. If she had to guess, it meant he wasn’t sure whether or not she was joking. “Was he serious?”

  “I’m still not sure. I ran into him at Something’s Brewing this afternoon. I decided to tell him that I’d found out the names of the men I’d seen Bryce talking to at the auction. To say he wasn’t happy is putting it mildly.”

  Tripp tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I’ll have a talk with him.”

  Abby could just imagine how that would go, so she did her best to head off the confrontation. “No need. He calmed down when I explained that I’d figured out the one name by looking at old yearbooks. He was a little crabbier about me asking Glenda, Louise, and Jean for help with identifying the other one. I don’t think he was impressed by the fact that I swore them to secrecy before I told them anything.”

  “Really? I can’t imagine why.” He slanted her another look. “If there’s a Gossip Central in this town, those three would be on the executive board.”

  She couldn’t really fault his logic, but there was no way she would admit that. “They promised not to say anything to anyone else, and I believed them. Evidently Gage did, too, because he said he would put my reservation at the jail on hold for the time being.”

  “So, tell me about these two guys.”

  Would he feel obligated to share the information with the barnacle? Deciding that it wouldn’t be fair to put him in that position, she shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Come on, Abby. You know I won’t go after them. I just want to know how likely it is that Gage would view them as credible suspects.”

  “Will you promise not to share their names with Valerie?”

  His silence was telling. Even Zeke picked up on the sudden surge in tension because he whined and nudged her shoulder. She patted his wrinkly face. “It’s okay, boy. We’re not fighting.”

  Not exactly, anyway.

  “Fine, I promise I won’t say anything to her unless I think it’s necessary.”

  “Not good enough, Tripp. I told Gage I wouldn’t do anything to interfere with his investigation. He won’t be happy if he thinks I’m feeding insider information to one of his suspects.”

  Tripp immediately started to protest, but she cut him off. “No, I mean it. I know you trust Valerie, and I said I’d give her the benefit of the doubt. That’s as far as I’m willing to go.”

  While waiting for Tripp to launch another attempt to convince her to share everything she knew, a loud rumble caught her attention. She looked around until she spotted several large motorcycles headed their way. They drove past and veered off onto a secondary road, one she wasn’t familiar with. At first she thought they were headed for a cinder block building with a single neon light flashing in the front window that simply read BEER. Instead, they kept going even though a road sign said it was a dead end.

  “Do you know where that side road over there leads to?”

  “I’ve heard there’s a motorcycle repair shop at the far end. Spence, one of the guys at the veterans group, mentioned getting parts for his bike there.”

  It almost had to be the Pratt brothers’ garage. After all, how many motorcycle shops could there be in a town the size of Snowberry Creek?

  Tripp looked a bit puzzled by her interest. “Why are you asking?”

  She considered lying, but what if Gage was right about every thought she had playing out in real time on her face? He’d suggested asking Tripp to verify his claim, and there was no time like the present. “Answer me this. Can you sometimes tell when I’m trying to avoid telling you something?”

  His answer was short and to the point. “No.”

  Relieved to find out she wasn’t that transparent, she tried to come up with a believable yet fictional excuse for her interest in where the bikers had been going. Before she could, Tripp’s next words reined her back in.

  “Not just usually, Abby. I can always tell. You get this guilty look in your eyes if you’re just holding back pertinent information. But if you’re about to tell a whopper, you bite your lower lip right before you start talking.”

  He grinned and pointed at her face. “Just like that, in fact.”

  Well, rats, so much for that plan. She settled on telling a half-truth. “Someone mentioned a pretty rough crowd hangs out at a local motorcycle shop. I was curious where it was.”

  “Why? Are you thinking about transforming yourself into some guy’s biker babe? ’Cause I’ve gotta say, somehow I don’t see that happening. You don’t exactly fit the profile.”

  She arched an eyebrow and gave him a cool look. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted or complimented by your opinion of my assets.”

  The jerk actually laughed. “I like your assets just fine, Abby, but you lack the hard edge that a lot of those ladies have.”

  Feeling slightly mollified, she finally gave him the answer he’d been waiting for. “The other man I saw Bryce talking to at the auction might be one of the two brothers who own that shop. Gage plans on talking to them. He also warned me to stay away from their place. He didn’t think either of them would present any kind of threat to me, but I guess he’s had problems with some of their clientele.”

  By that point, their order was ready. After paying for it, Tripp said, “Thanks for telling me, Abby. Since Gage is already on it, I don’t see any need to talk to them myself or to tell Valerie about them.”

  He parked the truck and turned off the engine before adding, “For now, anyway. But if Gage comes after her, all bets are off.”

  “Fine, but don’t bother asking me who the other guy is.”

  Before he could protest, she held up her hand. “Listen, I was really hoping for a relaxing meal. Do you think we can forget about anything and everyone connected to Bryce Cadigan long enough to do justice to one of Gary’s meals?”

  Tripp stared at her for several long seconds before nodding. “It’s a deal. Now, let’s give Zeke his burgers.”

  * * *

  By agreement, they limited their dinner conversation to non-murder-related topics. Abby didn’t know about Tripp, but it felt good to concentrate on happier subjects. Although he’d made it clear that he really did need to get back to his homework, he decided there was time to squeeze in a long walk along the river after they finished eating.

  Finally, they headed back to the house. Abby really hated the moments of awkwardness between the two of them since the auction and wished their outing wasn’t coming to an end. It would’ve been nice if their mellow mood could have lasted a littl
e longer, but that wasn’t to be. When they pulled into the driveway, there was a strange sedan sitting where Tripp normally parked. As soon as he turned off the engine, Valerie got out of the car and headed straight for them. The expression on the barnacle’s face made it clear that the good times were definitely over.

  Valerie ignored both Abby and Zeke but tore into Tripp but good. “Where have you been all this time? You never gave me a house key, so I had to sit out here cooling my heels while you two were out doing whatever you were doing.”

  Before Tripp could respond, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Abby and then back at him. “You keep saying you don’t have time to do anything other than study, but you seem to find plenty of time to spend with your landlady.”

  Tripp mirrored the barnacle’s angry stance. “That’s enough, Valerie. Not that it’s any of your business, we just went out for burgers and shakes at the local drive-in. Besides, you said you were spending the evening in Seattle.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Considering it’s only six thirty, there was no reason for us to expect you back this soon.”

  “My evening got cut short. Seems I’ve been put on administrative leave until this mess is over, and my supposed friend wasn’t into spending time with a murder suspect.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Val, but I don’t see how that’s our fault.”

  Rather than immediately answer him, Valerie paused to glance in Abby’s direction. “Do you mind? This is a private conversation.”

  Tripp went on point, clearly getting ready to leap to Abby’s defense, but she wasn’t going to let Valerie sharpen her claws on him when he’d done nothing wrong. “I’m sorry if we kept you waiting.” Then she shook her head. “No, actually, I’m not sorry at all, Ms. Brunn. As far as I’m concerned, neither of us are at your beck and call. If you had asked me for a key earlier, I might have given you one. However, considering you left before I got home, there was no way I could’ve done that even if I wanted to. This is my house, not Tripp’s, so you shouldn’t expect him to provide you with a key, either.”

  It was probably beyond rude to be venting like this, but she’d had it with the woman’s attitude. “For the record, I will remind you that it was not my idea that you stay at my house. If you’re unhappy here, you’re more than welcome to go find a hotel room somewhere. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings one bit. If you want to stay, fine. However, I’d recommend you go straight up to your room and stay there for the rest of the evening. I find I’m not really in the mood for company. Especially yours.”

  Abby directed her next remarks to Tripp. “Zeke and I are going inside now. Thank you for dinner. I had a really good time.”

  While she hated to abandon Tripp, by that point even Zeke was growling. She walked away without a backward glance, her only regret that Valerie wasn’t immediately leaping back into her car and driving away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Back in the house, Abby paced the length of her living room and back again as she considered her options. It would be cowardly to retreat to her own room rather than face her unwelcome guest. On the other hand, the confrontation outside had left her more shaken than she was willing to admit. She was tired of that woman’s presence in her home . . . in her life . . . in fact, even in her town.

  The only way to get rid of her resident barnacle once and for all was to find out who had killed Bryce Cadigan. She would hate it if the culprit turned out to be Valerie, mainly because of how it would affect Tripp. There wasn’t much she could do tonight but work on her list of other possible suspects. After writing down everything she already knew about them, she’d spend some time online to see what else she could learn.

  The sound of the back door opening spurred her into action. She wasn’t going to lurk around downstairs and have to deal with Valerie. For one thing, her pesky conscience was starting to act up again. She wasn’t going to apologize for anything she’d said out in the backyard, but she also didn’t want to pick up the discussion where she’d left off.

  “Zeke, I’m going upstairs.”

  Evidently he wasn’t ready to call it a night yet because he remained sprawled on the living room floor. Rather than insist that he come, she gave him a quick pat on the head and then hurried upstairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom. After closing the door, she leaned her ear against it to listen for any sign that Valerie was on her way upstairs as well. Nothing but silence. Despite Abby’s suggestion that the woman retire to her room for the night, she really didn’t care where Valerie was right now as long as it wasn’t anywhere close to her.

  Or Tripp. She really hoped he was back at his own place and getting a chance to study in peace. Even if she didn’t want to offer Valerie any kind of apology, she did feel like he might be entitled to one. Not right now, though. She’d already taken up enough of his time for one night.

  No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than her phone pinged. That didn’t stop her from looking, though. Sure enough, it was her tenant checking in.

  You okay?

  Yes. Mostly, anyway. How about you?

  I’m fine. Sorry Valerie took her temper out on you. I should’ve thought to give her a key.

  Abby closed her eyes and counted to ten before trusting herself to answer. Again, it’s my house, not yours. I didn’t think to give her a key, but she could’ve also asked for one. Either way, it’s not your problem. It’s hers.

  As she waited for him to respond, she could almost hear him praying for patience. At least his next comment made her laugh. Let me know if I need to come referee. Better yet, can I sell tickets and popcorn for the big smackdown? Maybe even take bets.

  For the record, I can take her fair and square.

  Not that she had any intention of fighting fair if she could help it. Tripp responded with an entire row of laughing emoticons ending with a single sentence. I’d never be stupid enough to bet against you.

  Thanks . . . I think.

  My homework is calling. Talk to you later.

  Her mood was considerably improved by the brief exchange. She kicked off her shoes, grabbed her laptop, and climbed on the bed, sitting with her back against the headboard. After opening a new document file, she began typing in all the information she knew about the people Bryce Cadigan had talked to at the auction. It was likely her list was incomplete since she hadn’t tracked his every movement. There was also no guarantee that the murderer had even been at the auction.

  If that were the case, how had the person known where to find Bryce in the first place? She brought up his website and studied it. Sure enough, there was a tab that read “Upcoming Events.” When she clicked on it, a calendar popped up that listed all of his scheduled appearances including dates, times, and locations. Anyone who was interested in tracking Bryce’s movements could’ve easily figured out he would be at the auction that night and been waiting for him out in the parking lot. Someone who wasn’t even on anyone’s radar.

  That complicated things considerably. Had Gage figured that out as well? She’d have to assume he had. After all, from what she’d heard, Gage had had a successful career as a homicide detective with one of the big-city police forces before returning to his hometown to take over as the local chief of police.

  But back to the problem at hand. There wasn’t anything she could do to track anyone who might have accessed Bryce’s calendar, so it was time to move on to other options. She reviewed everything she’d learned so far and found it to be a pitifully short list of information.

  To begin with, she didn’t know how Bryce had actually died. According to Gage, he’d been poisoned. But how? Had he ingested it, or had it been injected somehow? What kind of drug had been used? Clearly the whole process could’ve taken only minutes at best. The sudden realization of how close she’d come to stumbling into the middle of an actual murder didn’t bear thinking about. Shoving that scary thought to the back of her mind, she kept going. What threads could she tug on without putting herself in the crosshairs of t
he killer or even the police?

  She’d already promised to stay away from the Pratt brothers, so she put them at the bottom of her list. Her gut feeling was that the football coach wasn’t actually a suspect. Both he and Bryce had seemed genuinely happy to see each other. That left Denny Moller and Robin Alstead, the former teacher. The few notes next to their names were pretty sparse. Denny graduated with Bryce. The retired teacher was a widow who now worked at the discount store at the edge of town. She also belonged to a local church. Too bad it wasn’t Pastor Jack’s. Abby might have been able to find out something about the woman from him.

  Now that she’d exhausted the information she’d already garnered on everyone on the list, it was time to turn to the Internet to see what more she could learn there. She’d barely started working when she heard Zeke whine and softly scratch at her door. Setting the laptop on the bedside table, she hurried to let him in. He stayed out in the hall, making it clear that wasn’t what he was wanting.

  “Okay, boy, I’ll come let you out.”

  He woofed and trotted back down the steps. She followed him to the kitchen and opened the door. Zeke bolted out onto the porch and then down the steps to the yard. Knowing his nightly patrol could take several minutes, she stepped out to enjoy the evening air. The sun had gone down in the time she’d been upstairs working, so it took her a few seconds to realize that she wasn’t alone.

  Valerie was sitting in one of the chairs with a glass of wine in one hand and a small tablet in the other. From where Abby stood, it appeared as if Valerie was reading an e-book. While it was tempting to ignore her as much as she was pointedly ignoring Abby in return, that seemed foolish considering they were living under the same roof for the time being. Eventually they would have to speak to each other again. The longer the silence continued, the more awkward things would become.

  Someone had to make the first move, so Abby asked, “Are you reading something interesting?”

  At first it didn’t seem as if Valerie would respond, but she finally turned off her tablet and set it aside. “Not particularly, but it’s probably not the book’s fault. For obvious reasons, I’m not in the right mood for a murder mystery.”