by Quinn, Lucy
“This thing?” He held the weapon out in his open palm, like he was offering it to me. “This is Claire’s knife.”
“No, it’s not. It’s Austin’s.” I reached for it and he didn’t pull away. Before I knew it, I had the thing in my hand. It was hot from his touch, but I’d disarmed him. Or he’d allowed himself to be disarmed.
“Yeah. He gave it to Claire.” Derek walked back to the couch, pulling the black bag along with him. “She saw him on Monday and he gave her that knife. It belonged to her father.”
Breath caught in my throat and several things clicked at once in my brain, like a kaleidoscope moving into place. Austin meeting Claire outside the bank, finding out she was his aunt, giving over a knife that had once been his grandmother’s prized possession.
And he’d proceeded not to tell either his mother or grandmother about the meeting at the bank. Or about his plan to meet her at the bakery. There were plenty of lies to pick from in Austin’s pantheon.
But the knife hadn’t been in Austin’s hand before the murder. It had been in Claire’s. That put everyone right back on the table as suspects. Including both of the people in the room with me.
Great.
Chapter 21
“You don’t even know for sure it’s the murder weapon.” Derek pointed at the knife in my hand.
He had a point. I turned it over, looking for any signs of blood. There were none. “Well, I know the entry wounds were jagged, this knife has been missing since the murder, and you just told us Claire probably had it on her, so it makes sense this would be the murder weapon.”
“I thought we were going to turn it over to the cops,” Scarlet said, from near the door. “Then they’d determine whether it was the murder weapon.”
“Yeah, until boy genius over here decided to touch it.” I pointed at Derek, more than a little frustrated. This certainly complicated matters with the police. “What else is in there, anyway?”
He bent to pick up the bag and set it on the couch. “There’s an old sweatshirt of hers and a stuffed animal, some books,” he said, riffling through it. “I didn’t intend to touch any of it, but…” He trailed off, looking at the far wall.
He didn’t say the words, as if doing so would make the whole thing real again.
It was a seductive idea—the thought that you could deny the truth of something by not acknowledging it. A complete lie, of course, but a beautiful one.
“We’re going to have to do something with the knife,” Scarlet said. “If it really is the murder weapon.”
In the end, we decided to wait on what to do. Malcolm wasn’t out looking for the murder weapon—he thought the case was solved—and Derek wasn’t doing anything illegal that would cause the cops to come in and search his house. If we found evidence that was strong enough to convince the sheriff to re-open the case, we would turn the weapon over at that point. The police probably wouldn’t collect evidence on a closed case, anyway.
I wasn’t sure I was willing to live with probably, but it would have to do for the time being. If Peter caught wind of this, I was done.
We all left, Derek driving behind us on his way to the funeral home. Scarlet offered to work her magic on Travis at the paper, as she was constantly working to keep this out of the national media attention—which seemed like a full-time job on its own—while I tried to fix the mess at the bakery. But Derek still needed to bury his wife. I’d offered to go along, and he turned me down. We all agreed to text or call if anything happened, and traded numbers.
After the morning we had, it felt like all of us needed to be alone.
As we drove across town, I watched Scarlet out the corner of my eye. Her demeanor had changed quite a bit over the last few days. That prissy, Southern drama queen still lurked under her skin, no doubt. Her down-quilted winter jacket looked like it had cost a thousand dollars. Probably something you’d buy at Barney’s New York. Maybe that part of her would never change. But I could tell this week had changed her—at least on some level.
“How long do you have to stay here?” I asked, turning onto Main Street and driving through the heart of town. I had come to appreciate the landscape and beauty of this place, but I wasn’t sure someone like Scarlet ever could. That was okay. Hollywood would gladly take her back.
“I’ll probably try to make another meeting with that banker about Henry’s mother’s estate. If Henry is—” her voice broke, but she caught herself, “—gone…then I’m not sure what will happen. I certainly don’t have the legal authority to sign for anything, but when I get back to LA, his lawyers will need all of the relevant information. I might as well gather it.”
“Why’d she stipulate that he had to be here in person, if you don’t mind me asking?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “She always had a big thing about him not coming back. She didn’t like to travel, so they never saw each other again after he moved to LA.”
“Wow.” I couldn’t imagine not seeing my dad for twenty years. I hadn’t seen my own mother in twenty years, but she wasn’t alive. Several months without my very-much-alive father had been hard enough.
“Yeah. She wouldn’t come to his weddings, but she’d lay a guilt trip on him every time he called for a holiday about how he never came to see her.”
“When did she die?” I asked, turning the last corner onto Mockingbird Lane.
“Maybe four years ago.”
“That’s a long time not to deal with an estate.”
She shrugged. “He doesn’t have any siblings and he’s the last living relative, so there wasn’t even a funeral when she passed. It was right around the time he landed the big part on Bronson. They shot the pilot that summer, and then he had two long film shoots, back to back. After the show got picked up, he had to be on set pretty much all the time. He just never had a chance to get to it. This was his first genuine break in years, and I think he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. He told me he was running out of time to take care of it, but I figured he he was just taking advantage of the real estate market up here.”
I laughed, pulling up in front of the bed and breakfast and putting the Tank into park. “There isn’t a market up here, to speak of.”
“Well, whatever the reason, he was ready to get it done. We finally both had a break at the same time, so he made an appointment with the banker and I bought the plane tickets.” She put her hand on the door handle, but she didn’t open it. A pensive look lined her pretty features. “Y’know, I just thought of this. If he was planning to do something specific with the money, maybe that was what the deadline was about.”
I nodded, having been mulling over similar thoughts ever since Austin had made the comment about getting money when he turned eighteen. Follow the money was a rule for a reason. It was so often the place where the motive hid. People would do a lot of illegal and immoral things for money. Murder was only one on that list.
“Would he have talked over any of that with the banker?” I asked.
“Maybe his lawyer. He’s still in the state, too, although he’s not here at the B&B with us. He’s staying in Madison Falls at the Hilton.” Scarlet stretched and sighed. “I would so prefer that to this dump.”
When she thumbed toward the old house, I felt my hackles raise again. Scarlet wanted the Stepford familiarity of comfortable beds and perfectly tiled bathrooms, while I was the kind of person who preferred the character of this old house. The history. The depth.
We couldn’t have been more different. But in one thing, we were the same. We’d both cared for Henry. In our own way.
“Do you need someone to stay with you?” I asked. “Are you going to be okay?”
Her pout turned from spoiled princess to genuine sadness, and I couldn’t help worrying about her.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’ll find this Travis person and handle that story. You don’t have to worry about your precious job. Call me if you discover anyt
hing else.” Scarlet didn’t say goodbye when she left the car. Once again, I was alone.
The bakery parking lot was empty when I got back, but Emma’s shop was open, so I went inside. She sat behind the counter, poring over a book—her usual between-customers activity.
She pulled me up a chair and I called all the window shops in the phone book. Peter had been right—no one would be able to get to it for several days, and it sounded like it would cost me thousands of dollars.
Emma convinced me to open for lunch, even though all I had was the Ribollita from yesterday. It was a good idea. It gave me something to do, other than obsess about Henry’s death, the knife, and all the things we still didn’t know.
After the lunch crowd cleared out, I checked the seams on the garbage bag window cover. They seemed to be holding up all right. I could probably afford to stay open most of the rest of the day, although I didn’t like not being able to see into the parking lot. It felt like being blind on one side. Every time the bell rang, it made me jump.
Peter Mayhew stopped by again, giving me yet another warning and eyeing the blacked-out window with severe suspicion. This time, he’d been to the police station and discovered the case of Claire’s murder had been closed. I wondered what the man did all day. He was worse than the coffee ladies with his gossiping. I tried to reassure him that everything was fine, and when I pulled out a file folder of sermons I’d already read, pretending I was desperate to return to work, he finally left.
Whoever had put a bug in his ear at the paper was going to get me fired if Scarlet didn’t work her magic. If I hadn’t just been warned about not stepping a toe out of line, I might have gone down to the paper to crack a head or two. In my clergy shirt, maybe. But I was sure Peter would hear about it.
Scarlet had promised she’d handle it. I had to trust her.
I finished the audio version of the Bonhoeffer book and prepped the pastry dough for the next day. Leo walked in just as I was pouring water for the coffee.
He kept glancing back at the place-where-there-used-to-be-a-window, his eyes wide. “What happened, Miss Vee?” he finally blurted out.
“A tiny accident with a rock. Nothing to concern yourself with.” I gave him a bright smile and mentally added, or your parents, but I decided to keep that nugget to myself. Between Jenna’s appearance at Derek’s and the presence of a Van Andel in the sheriff’s department, I was getting more and more of a sense for just how wrapped up they all were in this case.
I didn’t know why yet.
“Austin’s at his grandma’s again,” he said.
“Do you have homework?” I asked, walking over to the bake case and surveying the remains. The macarons were all completely gone, which was for the best. They didn’t last more than a few days. “Hey, that reminds me, are you still coming in to bake tomorrow morning?”
“What reminds you?” He gave me an easy smile as he leaned against the counter.
“Looking at the macarons almost gone.” I reached in and picked out the last of the bright green ones. Leo took it from my hand and smelled it. I took the last vanilla and we toasted cookies before downing them in a few bites. “I should have called you so you wouldn’t come in. With the traffic from the window, I’m almost out of everything. I’ll have to close before the after-school rush, I think.”
“That’s okay. I’ll just do my Advanced Chem here until you leave. Yeah, I can come in tomorrow morning.”
“Good. We’ll have to try a different recipe this time.”
“Yeah, those green tea ones weren’t your best work, Miss Vee. I don’t know if I’d make them again.” He licked his thumb and his eyes shot to the front door. A second later, the bell dinged.
I turned around, saying, “That’s what the feedback cards said, too. Oddly, that was the one…” But I didn’t continue.
The angry face of Mike Van Andel stopped me.
“Hi, Mike,” I said, backing up like I’d done something wrong. “What can I get for you?”
“Nothing. I need Leo to come with me.” He put his hands on his hips, standing wide like Superman, though he was dressed more like a lumberjack in his flannel shirt and jeans.
“Dad, we talked about this—”
“Just for this afternoon,” Mike said, not giving up the hard look. “You can come back tomorrow.”
Leo shook his head but didn’t talk back. The tone of his dad’s voice didn’t leave any room for argument. “I have my own car. I’ll see you at home.”
There was some kind of silent conversation between the two of them as they glared each other down. They were much better at communicating this way than Scarlet and I were, because there was no more talking after that. Mike left Leo and I behind the bake case. He did turn back once at the door, giving his son a pointed—but silent—look.
“That was chillier than it needed to be,” I said, shaking out my limbs like I’d just gone on a run. There was a twinge of adrenaline in my body and I had to calm myself down.
“He’s mad at me because I decided to keep the job here. Tried all night to keep me from coming back to work.”
I cocked my head to one side. That struck me as so odd. It had to be about more than just my support of Henry, didn’t it? Something else was going on.
Mike was the one who’d stopped Derek and told him about the duffel bag, wasn’t he? How did he figure into this whole thing?
“Hey, can I ask you a quick question?” I said as Leo grabbed his backpack.
“Fire away.” He shouldered his coat on, then his pack, and stood waiting to hear what I would say.
“When is Austin’s birthday?”
Leo raised a dramatic brow. “You gonna make him a cake or something? You never made me a cake.”
“No, but that would be something good for you to practice. I could have you come in early on his birthday, and help you make him a cake.” I traced my finger along the edge of the counter. “When would that be?”
“Oh, it’s not until the end of May. After school’s out. Like, the very last day or something. We can talk about it later? I gotta go.” He waved at me and walked out the door. I followed him, locking the door behind him and flipping the Open sign to Closed.
Mike Van Andel still sat in his truck in the parking lot. Once he saw his son, he called to Leo to follow him, started the vehicle, and backed out without acknowledging me.
Yes, there was something very strange about his behavior.
I decided to grab my purse and follow him, as well, just to see where he was going. The Tank didn’t exactly blend in with anything, but maybe that would work to my advantage. No one would think I’d try following them in a car like that. Besides, the town was pretty small. It would be easy to pretend I was going somewhere else, and I could always pull in somewhere unexpected.
By the time I was inside the Tank, Leo had already pulled away. He was headed down Main Street, and I skidded out to follow him. He was a few car lengths behind his dad. We wound through the outer parts of town, past houses and a church and a convenience store.
When we got to the stop light, which was green, Mike turned right. Leo did the same. The light turned red, but I had an easy vantage point, so I watched as they drove all the way down to the end of the block and pulled up in front of the Rocky Mountain Bank.
Instead of following, I went straight at the light and then took the next right and circled around. I parked the Tank outside the newspaper office.
I hurried down to the end of the sidewalk, ducking into one of the stores across from the bank. It was a drug store, and I walked to the big picture window. It gave me a good view of Mike and Leo, who were standing outside the bank talking. No, arguing. Leo’s body language said that he was not only impatient, but mad. He was all tightness and hard, closed-mouth breaths.
Austin came through the sliding front doors, hands fisted and mouth pressed in a line. He didn’t see Leo or Mike, and kept walking down the street. Mike made a gesture and Leo ran after his friend.
&nbs
p; A round-faced clerk came over and asked in a bubbly voice if she could be of any assistance. She even called me Reverend. I let her sell me a couple of postcards and then ran through the front door as soon as Mike Van Andel pulled away from the bank parking. He went back the way he’d come, taking a left on to Main Street.
I had no idea where he was going, but my heart was starting to race again, and I couldn’t help worrying that he was on his way back to the bakery to talk to me about something. At least he hadn’t seen me. At least I didn’t think so.
Should I follow Leo? With his dad gone, I might be able to ask Austin some questions about the knife. Like what Claire had planned to do with it.
Austin and Leo were still walking down the opposite sidewalk, only together now, and I needed to know what they were saying to each other. I hurried back to the Tank and pulled out onto the street, following the two boys at a bit of a distance.
I cranked the window open and a cool blast of air hit my face. I tried to drive up alongside them, nonchalantly, but they stopped talking as soon as they saw me. The only thing I heard was—“You can’t blame her”—blowing on the air.
“Need a lift?” I asked, leaning over the console. I knew Leo had his car with him. I’d seen him take it, but it was the only excuse that came to mind.
Leo shook his head, pulling on his pack and looking back at the bank. “I’m good, Miss Vee,” he said.
“I’ll take one.” Austin jumped off the curb and into the car, and before Leo could protest, we were off.
“Where to?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful.
“Home.” The word was sullen, and he crossed his arms, settling back into the seat.
“Your wish. My command.” I turned off Broadwater street, just in case Mike Van Andel had circled back around to check on the boys, and headed back up toward Austin’s house in the bluffs.
He looked out the window mournfully.
“I thought you were at your grandma’s house this after.” I put a little smile behind my words, but he didn’t even glance at me.