Abby couldn’t help but laugh just a little. “Gee, I can’t imagine why.”
Valerie stood up and walked to the far corner of the porch, the one spot that offered an unobstructed view of Tripp’s house. “I know you won’t believe me, and I’m not even sure why I care what you think. Even so, I didn’t kill Bryce Cadigan.”
Abby didn’t know, either. “From what I saw at the auction, it was obvious you knew him. Why lie about that?”
The heavy silence was back again. Finally, Valerie turned her back on Tripp’s place to look directly at Abby. “It’s not really a lie. Before that night, I’d never been in the same room with him. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”
Fine, but that didn’t make any sense. Valerie’s anger had been too real, too personal. For his part, if Bryce had had no idea who she was, why hadn’t he simply brushed her aside and gone about his business? Instead, he’d forced her to take the discussion outside. That only made sense if one or even both of them had something to hide.
Abby leaned against the porch railing as she pondered the situation. It would be so much easier if Valerie would simply tell her what was going on, but the woman stared at her as if waiting to see if Abby was smart enough to figure it out on her own. There was only one thing that made any sense—if Valerie hadn’t had problems with Bryce herself, then maybe she was protecting someone else.
Abby studied the other woman for a few more seconds and then offered up her thinking on the matter. “You’re not the type of person who would suddenly go off on a total stranger for no reason. If Bryce wasn’t a problem for you, he must have been one for someone you care about.”
She paused briefly to see if Valerie would deny or confirm Abby’s conclusion. When she didn’t say anything, Abby played the only other card she could. “I’m guessing that someone would be your sister. Tripp said she recently left this area to move to Los Angeles, where you live. Was Bryce Cadigan the reason for that move?”
Valerie didn’t confirm or deny the allegation. Instead, she picked up her tablet and the wineglass and headed for the door. “I believe you were told to stay out of the investigation. That sounds like a good idea to me. You don’t want to get caught in the middle of a situation that has already turned deadly once.”
Well, okay then. Abby supposed Valerie had just offered her a bit of good advice. Even though she hated the thought of having Valerie underfoot for an unknown amount of time, she should probably even follow it. The trouble was, she wanted the woman gone and for things between her and Tripp to go back to the way they were before the auction. That wasn’t going to happen as long as the barnacle remained stuck in Snowberry Creek. Abby watched the clouds drifting slowly across the sky and pondered her predicament. How could she help move the investigation along without getting sucked in too deep? Sadly, neither her mind nor the clouds offered up any viable suggestions.
Maybe tomorrow would be more productive than today had been. She looked around the backyard to locate Zeke. She patted her leg and called out, “Hey, boy, it’s time to come in.”
He briefly looked up from whatever he had been sniffing on the ground but made no move to come running, so Abby pulled out the big guns. “Okay, stay out here if you want. Maybe some other dog will enjoy the pumpkin blueberry cookie I was going to give you.”
That did it. He bolted across the yard and up onto the porch. She hurried to get the door open when it appeared he wasn’t going slow down anytime soon. Inside the kitchen, she bent down to give Zeke a stern look as she offered him the promised goody. “Next time you ignore me, young man, there will be no treats.”
He scarfed down the cookie and then snorted right in her face, splattering her skin with a sticky layer of cookie crumbs and mastiff love. As she wiped her face with a paper towel, Abby tried to imagine how Valerie would’ve responded if he’d done the same to her, and couldn’t quite bring the image into focus. What did it say about her that all she could do was laugh and pat him on the head?
“I don’t know about you, big guy, but I’m ready to call it a day.”
As the two of them made their way up to her bedroom on the second floor, it dawned on her that she’d never gotten around to personally thanking Mrs. Alstead for supporting the veterans group by buying chances on one of the baskets. Maybe tomorrow would be a good day to do a little shopping at the discount store. If she happened to cross paths with the woman, well, wouldn’t that be interesting?
* * *
Since Abby had no idea what hours or even what days Robin Alstead worked, it was a crapshoot if her quarry would even be at the store. Mayor McKay also hadn’t mentioned what the woman did there. If she worked in back or in one of the offices, Abby might not even be able to get near her. At least the trip would get her out of the house for a while.
After their unsatisfactory discussion last night, she was in no hurry to cross paths with Valerie again. As far as Abby could tell, the woman was still asleep when she left the house at nine thirty. Zeke was clearly disappointed to be left behind, but she didn’t want to leave him shut up in the car while she did her errands.
Over a quick breakfast, she’d considered what she actually wanted to ask the former teacher if she did manage to find her. The goal was to garner some information without setting off any alarms. Right now, she’d settle for just getting a better feel for what kind of man Bryce Cadigan had been. Even if the teacher hadn’t seen him in years, she might be able to offer up some insight into what he’d been like when he still lived in Snowberry Creek.
As usual, the store was really busy. After parking, she grabbed a cart and headed for the entrance, falling into line with the other customers on their way inside.
While it would’ve been handy if Mrs. Alstead was one of the greeters, that would’ve made it awkward to carry on any kind of conversation without clogging up the busy entrance. She also didn’t want to get the woman in trouble for discussing private matters on company time. Her frustration grew as she started walking up and down the aisles. Obviously this wasn’t going according to plan. She tossed a box of crackers in her cart and then tried to get a box of her favorite cereal from the top shelf. It slid back just out of her reach even when she stood on her tiptoes.
She was about to give up when someone walked up behind her. “Here, let me get that for you. I’ve got my stepladder with me.”
Miracle of miracles, her would-be helper turned out to be Mrs. Alstead. Clearly the gods were smiling down on her today. Abby stepped back out of the way while the woman set her three-step ladder in place. She handed down the box of cereal and then used the opportunity to straighten the other boxes on the shelf before stepping back down.
As she folded the ladder, she offered Abby a practiced smile. “Was there something else I could help you with?”
It was now or never. Abby smiled back. “You’re Mrs. Alstead, aren’t you? I’m so glad to have run into you. I headed up the committee that organized the veterans auction the other night. I believe you were one of the lucky folks who actually took one of the baskets home.”
Then she held out her hand. “I’m Abby McCree, by the way.”
Mrs. Alstead looked a bit hesitant, but she finally gave Abby’s hand a halfhearted shake. “The basket was lovely.”
Still trying to establish some sense of rapport, Abby asked her another question even though she already knew the answer. “Which one was it?”
“The one for knitters.”
“Oh, that’s right. The yarn shop did a lovely job on that basket. Personally, I put all of my tickets in the bag for the one from the bookstore. My to-be-read pile just got a whole lot taller, so I’m all set when those rainy days start again next fall.”
To delay moving on, Abby made a show of picking another box of cereal and adding it to the cart while she kept talking. “The committee is so pleased with how much money we raised for the veterans in the area.”
“I’m glad to hear it. My late husband was a veteran, so I wanted to show my
support.”
“Well, just know it was much appreciated.” Then Abby sighed. “It’s just a shame that the success was overshadowed by the tragedy at the end.”
Mrs. Alstead’s expression hardened. “I still can’t believe Bryce is dead. That awful woman was clearly furious with him for some reason, but that doesn’t excuse her killing him.”
Maybe Abby wasn’t the only one who’d seen Valerie arguing with Bryce. “Do you have any idea what she was so upset about?”
Mrs. Alstead’s mouth was a straight slash of anger. “No, but I think she was determined to embarrass him in public.”
If that was true, why would Valerie have waited until she could catch him alone near the door? And why would she have let him take their discussion outside? Since that line of questioning was going nowhere, Abby shifted gears. “I only met Mr. Cadigan on the evening of the event, but I’m guessing you knew him much better. I understand you were his teacher in high school.”
The woman looked a bit puzzled and took a step back. “Yes, I was, but how would you know that?”
Abby hurried to explain before Mrs. Alstead went into full retreat. “I was trying to make sure I thanked everyone I could the night of the auction including those who bought chances on the baskets. I was going to approach you, but I saw you were standing with friends and didn’t want to interrupt. Meanwhile, I was talking to Mayor McKay and asked if she knew your name. She told me you used to teach at the high school. I guess I just assumed that you would’ve had Bryce in your class.”
Looking only slightly mollified by the explanation, Mrs. Alstead said, “Oh, of course. That makes sense. Despite the tragic ending to that evening, I was so glad he found time to talk to me. Bryce was such a nice young man and a good student back in the day. I’ve followed his career for years and was pleased to see the amazing career he built for himself.”
How had Abby so totally misread the body language when Bryce had cornered his former teacher at the auction? “So you two were still close?”
That garnered Abby a firm denial from the woman. “Not at all. It’s just that particular graduating class was extra special to me since it was my first year of teaching. I had those kids both as juniors and seniors. Regardless, I think all teachers take personal pride when one of their students achieves greatness. Everyone who knew Bryce took pride in his success.”
Okay, that wasn’t true. Abby could name several people who didn’t fit that description, but the woman was entitled to her opinion. Maybe it was time to change subjects. “I also saw Denny Moller at the auction, too. Was he another of your students?”
At the mention of his name, Mrs. Alstead relaxed and smiled. “Yes, he was. Denny was one of my best students. I had great expectations for him, but unfortunately he lost his chance for a football scholarship during his junior year. That accident involving his knee was a real tragedy. I tutored him at home to help him keep up with his studies while he recuperated from one of his surgeries. I know he was disappointed to not be able to go away to college like Bryce did, but he’s built a nice life for himself as a plumbing contractor.”
Before Abby could figure out a way to press her for details on the nature of the accident, the radio clipped to Mrs. Alstead’s apron pocket crackled. She snatched it up as if she were drowning and someone had just thrown her a lifesaver.
“Mrs. Alstead here.”
The disembodied voice was staticky and difficult to understand, but it evidently presented no problem for Mrs. Alstead. The person on the other end said something about needing her to check in the stockroom for another case of the macaroni and cheese that was on special.
“I’ll take a quick look and let you know.”
Then she turned her attention back to Abby. “It was nice meeting you, Ms. McCree. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should get back to work.”
“No problem. Thank you again for supporting the auction the other night and your help getting the cereal for me.”
She watched as Mrs. Alstead hurried away. The brief conversation had created more questions than answers, but there was no way she could hang around the store and hope to be able to ask them. For now, she’d finish her shopping and then return home to see if she could learn more about how Denny Moller had lost his scholarship. She might be completely off base, but right now she’d bet anything that Bryce Cadigan was involved.
It could be nothing more than that they played on the same team. But maybe, just maybe, what had happened in the past might be worth killing for in the present.
Chapter Fourteen
Abby’s eyes felt like sandpaper. She’d spent hours on the computer reading up on the football seasons when both Bryce Cadigan and Denny Moller had been on the Snowberry Creek team. She’d started with their freshman year and worked her way through all four years of Bryce’s high school career. It told a fascinating story. She just wished she knew if she was reading too much into what was actually being said.
It was clear that Denny was the upcoming star, scoring the most points and garnering the biggest headlines. The reporter who had covered the games for The Clarion at the time clearly thought Denny had a shot at a successful college career and even hinted that he might even get to go pro after that. He’d been the total package with size, speed, and great hands.
The few mentions of Bryce Cadigan weren’t nearly as glowing. She had to wonder how well that went over with him. Granted, she hadn’t spent much time in his company, but it was clear to see that he took great pleasure in being the center of attention. Hardly an expert on the game of football, Abby had watched enough games with her ex-husband to understand the difference between Denny being the starting receiver while Bryce had been his backup.
That had changed after Denny got hurt. There were remarkably few details about the exact nature of the injury, but it was clear that it had taken multiple surgeries to repair the damage. There had been an investigation afterward, but apparently the final report had been sealed. In the end, the reporter had described it as an “unfortunate accident” that had ended not just the season for Denny, but his entire career. The article had gone on to say that a scout from a prestigious university thought it was a real shame because the boy had shown such promise.
During their senior year, Bryce Cadigan’s name had replaced Denny’s as the headliner in the paper’s coverage. The team ended up with a winning season but didn’t make it past the first round of the postseason tournament.
In the end, Denny had become a plumber while Bryce had gone on to a successful career in broadcasting. Abby printed the last article, stuck it in a file folder with the others, and set it aside. That done, she didn’t want to think about anything more complicated than which flavor of doggy treats she should bake next for Zeke. Better yet, she’d stock up on some of Gage Logan’s favorite cookies in case she needed to have a bribe handy.
There was no sign of Valerie when she went back downstairs, which was fine with her. Zeke was dozing in his own personal sunbeam in the living room. He lifted his head long enough to blink at her sleepily. Evidently deciding she wasn’t doing anything exciting, he dropped his head back down on his paws and resumed snoring.
She headed for the kitchen, turned her aunt’s old radio to a classic rock station, and then began pulling out all the ingredients she needed to make Zeke’s favorite treats. Twenty minutes later, she finished cutting the dough with a paw print–shaped cookie cutter and slid two trays of cookies into the oven. It didn’t take long for Zeke to appear in the kitchen doorway as he sniffed the air with great interest. She laughed and wagged a finger in his direction.
“Sorry, but your share of the booty is still baking. Then they’ll need to cool before you can have any.”
He gave her a reproachful look about the delay and then plunked down on the floor in the far corner, clearly moving his nap into the kitchen to monitor the progress on his cookies. She didn’t blame him. Although she’d never actually tasted the batter herself, the combined scents of blueberries and peanut
butter made it tempting.
She turned on the mixer to cream the butter and sugar for a double batch of chocolate chip cookies. While that processed, she gave in to the urge to sing along to the music as she chopped the walnuts.
“Something smells good.”
Tripp’s deep voice startled Abby into nicking her finger with the knife. She whirled around and pointed the sharp blade right at him. “Darn it, Tripp, what have I told you about sneaking up on me like that?”
He reached around her to snag a paper towel off the roll while somehow managing to look both apologetic and amused at the same time. He put pressure on the small cut on her finger. “Sorry, but I did knock before I came in. I guess you were singing too loudly to hear me. At least I assume that’s what that noise was.”
“Very funny.”
When she tried to tug her finger free of his grasp, he tightened his hold on her hand. After checking her cut again, he rewrapped it with a clean part of the paper towel. “Give it a minute. It’s still oozing. I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly like the taste of blood mixed with whatever you’ve got going on in that bowl. Assuming, that is, that you’re willing to share when it’s finished.”
“I’m making chocolate chip cookies, and right now me sharing them is doubtful.”
Her threat didn’t seem to impress him at all. “Do you keep bandages in here someplace, or do I need to get one from the hall bathroom?”
What did it say about their relationship that Tripp knew right where she kept the first-aid supplies? At least this wasn’t as bad as the time someone had thrown a rock through her living room window while she’d been sitting right in front of it. She’d stepped on broken glass in her efforts to get both herself and Zeke away from the threat.
She nodded in the direction of the other end of the counter. “There are some in that drawer, but I can take care of it myself.”
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