A high-pitched scream cut through the night, breaking the spell. The heads of every elk straightened, and then as one, they disappeared into the trees.
A second scream split the air. Leo, Katie, and I exchanged a brief glance, then like the elk, moved as a unit, though we ran toward the sound.
As we moved, we could hear others running through the forest, all headed in the same direction as us.
No more screaming came, but as we drew closer, we were led by the sounds of a woman close to hyperventilating.
We entered a small clearing and saw Alice and an older woman standing over a dark shape on the ground.
A few steps closer, and thanks to the moonlight, the snow, and my adjusted eyesight, the dark shape took form. Henry lay on his back. His eyes stared sightlessly up into the trees. A gaping wound sliced across his neck.
Though they were always helpful when I needed to know something, I had to admit, I’d at times thought judgmental things about Anna and Carl and their propensity for gossip. Sometimes even about my uncles as well. Within half an hour of opening the Cozy Corgi the next morning, I was taking back every negative thought I’d had. You didn’t have to go looking for gossip as a storeowner; it came to you. And judging from the vast number of people wandering through the bookshop to head upstairs to Katie’s bakery and how few were returning back down, I had the feeling we were going to be the new hub.
Once more thinking I needed to bring on an employee to handle the cash register, I left my post and wandered up to the bakery, Watson following grudgingly along.
I had to eat my words about Watson as well. I would’ve been willing to bet everything I owned on him never being back in the bookstore again once the bakery was in full swing. I’d not taken into account the vast number of people who would linger in the charming space Katie had created. It turned out that as much as Watson adored food, he valued avoiding countless hands on him even more. He was always underfoot in the bookshop. Which, I had to admit, pleased me greatly.
Katie noticed Watson and me arriving at the top of the stairs, and she cast me a wide-eyed glance before turning back to her customer. I hadn’t quite grasped how many people had not yet come back down to the bookshop. The place was filled. Though there weren’t many, every table, sofa, and chair were occupied, and people huddled in little groups whispering excitedly.
I started toward the counter, but then, to my surprise, noticed Carl gesturing emphatically a few feet away. He must’ve felt my gaze as he looked over at me at that exact moment, brightened, and waved me over before turning back to his audience. “Ask Fred, she was there. Henry lay there in the snow, throat sliced open like in a horror movie.”
I started to confirm, but felt strange about it, so I changed directions. “Carl, what are you doing here? I can’t believe Anna allowed you to leave her by herself in Cabin and Hearth.”
He looked at me like I was an idiot, then gestured across the bakery. “She’s getting us another tart. We saw everyone coming over here, so we closed the shop. Didn’t want to miss the excitement.”
Apparently I hadn’t completely misjudged Carl and Anna’s propensity for gossip after all. And strangely, that felt soothing.
As if hearing her name, Anna shuffled over and shoved a plate with the pear tart toward Carl, then plunged a fork into her slice of chocolate cake. She smiled at me, glanced down, then returned the fork to the plate with a clatter and shoved it in my direction. “Hi, Fred, hold this.” She sank to the floor, her gingham skirt billowing around her as she squealed and reached toward Watson.
I swore he grimaced, but he knew one of his favorite treat dispensers when he saw her and allowed the fawning to happen.
Carl took a bite of his tart and groaned in pleasure, then gestured over his shoulder with the fork toward Katie, speaking with his mouth full. “You landed a goldmine with that one, Fred.”
“That I did.”
“I’m betting it’s a matter of weeks before you put the Black Bear Roaster out of business.”
I grabbed his arm. “Don’t say that! We are not in competition with the coffee shop. There is enough business for both of us.” The Black Bear Roaster had been the only coffee shop downtown until Katie opened. The owner wasn’t my favorite person in the world, and she couldn’t serve a moist scone to save her life, but I didn’t want that notion of us trying to put them out of business to start getting around town.
With a final pat on Watson’s head, Anna stood and retrieved her cake. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’re in competition with Carla. And you’re going to knock her socks off.”
“No! I don’t want—”
“So what’s your version, Fred?” Anna cut me off with her mouth as full as Carl’s. “I’d say you’ll have a much calmer account than my husband. This is the first time he’s seen a murder. By this point, it’s got to be almost boring to you. I swear, you moved to town, and people start dropping like flies.”
The couple Carl had been talking to nodded enthusiastically. I didn’t believe I’d met them before, but I offered an uncomfortable smile. “I… ah… don’t know if I would put it like that exactly. And….” I glanced over Carl and Anna’s shoulders and pointed toward Katie as I raised my voice. “Of course, I’ll be right there.” I tried another smile, this time at Carl and Anna. “Sorry, Katie needs me. Enjoy your breakfast.” Without worrying if I had been convincing or not, I headed toward the counter, even though Katie hadn’t even been looking in my direction.
Katie noticed me when I was a couple feet away and grinned. “Perfect timing. Fred, I want you to meet Sammy.” A short woman turned to offer me a greeting, a broad smile on her round face, and I halted. I could’ve been looking at Katie’s twin, or at least her sibling. They even had the same mess of curly brown hair. “Sammy is a baker. She graduated culinary school at Christmas and came home to spend a few months with her family. I’m trying to talk her into being my assistant. Even if only for a few months until we get settled.”
I shook the woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you. It would be great to have Katie get some help. I need to start looking for some myself.”
“Nice to meet you, too. Absolutely love your bookstore. It’s wonderful.” Sammy broke the handshake and attempted to trap a curl behind her ear, it sprung free the second she dropped her hand. “And from the looks of things, I’ll be getting a great experience. You’re crazy busy.”
She even sounded like Katie. It was a little disconcerting. “Well, that’s true, but I’m willing to bet it’ll die down after a day or two. People are excited or something after last night’s events.”
“Are you kidding?” Katie scoffed. “With you around, the adventure never stops. Give us another few weeks and eventually you’ll find another dead body.”
“Not you, too!” I think for the first time in our friendship I gave her an irritated glare. “This doesn’t have anything to do with me. And you were with me, remember? Neither of us discovered Henry’s body. That was Alice, and….” I snapped my fingers trying to remember the other woman’s name. “Lucy.”
Katie shrugged, like that was a minor detail. Then she turned back to Sammy. “Just wait and see. Give Fred a week and she’ll be able to tell the whole town who killed Henry. She’s the best detective the town’s got.”
I wondered if Anna and Carl would loan me the key to their store so I could hide in there for a while. “Katie, don’t be ridiculous. I own a bookshop. I’m not a detective. There’s no reason for me to get involved in this. None of my family or friends have been accused of murder.”
Again Katie waved me off like I was being ridiculous and somewhat daft. “Like that matters.”
I wasn’t about to admit I’d had similar thoughts as I’d fallen asleep the night before. Playing over the interactions I’d noticed at the bird-club meeting, it wasn’t hard to imagine half of those people wanting Henry dead. It seemed like I’d heard him accuse most of the bird-watchers of some form of foul play. That probably got a little old, to
say the least. I hadn’t noticed anything interesting about Owen, but I doubted he felt too kindly toward Henry after being accused of poaching.
I gave my head a shake, clearing the ridiculous things I was thinking. But too little, too late. Katie shook her finger in my direction and grinned. “I know that face, Fred.” She winked at Sammy. “Mark my words, by the time you get your first paycheck, Fred will announce who killed Henry.” She turned back to me, opened her mouth to say something, and then her eyes widened. With a grin, she pointed over my shoulder. “I’m pretty sure he’s not here for my baking.” I followed her gaze and found Branson standing at the top of the steps, observing the packed space. From his expression, clearly Katie had been right.
“It was nice to meet you, Sammy. Sounds like we might be seeing a lot more of each other.” I glared at Katie once more. “And you, don’t go making things worse. There’s enough gossip going around. I’m not getting involved.”
She shrugged. “Whatever you say, Winifred Page.”
After giving her a final glower, I turned, and Watson and I headed over to Branson. “Hey. Need some breakfast?”
He shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m here to talk to you, actually.” He pointed down the steps. “Maybe we can go downstairs, have some privacy?”
“Of course.”
He turned instantly and headed to the bookshop. I followed, Watson at my heels. I’d not caught even a glimmer of flirtation in Branson’s eyes or in his tone. He had to be there for professional reasons.
As we got to the bottom of the steps, the front door opened, two women walked in, crossed the bookshop, gave a friendly nod in our direction, and headed up to the bakery. A glance around revealed that Branson and I were alone. “It’s a good thing Katie opened the bakery upstairs. Otherwise all the books would be bored not getting to see anyone walk past them.”
“I’m sure that will change. Your bookshop will do fine. At least once tourist season begins.” Branson attempted a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. For some reason, he seemed nervous again. He reached down to scratch Watson’s head, but Watson ducked out of reach. “Not the cuddliest of dogs, is he?”
“No, never.” It wasn’t true. He went completely gaga over Barry—and Leo, for that matter. “I can tell you’re not here to talk about Watson or the bookshop. What’s going on?”
He didn’t hesitate further, which I appreciated. “Obviously, I heard about what happened last night. We’ve been out at the murder scene all morning.”
“And what? Has Officer Green determined that I was the one who killed him somehow?” I forced a laugh. Neither Branson nor Susan Green had been the officers to arrive at the park the night before, but Officer Green made no secret of hating my existence. Her doing such a thing wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest, though I couldn’t picture Branson going along with it.
“No, of course not. You’re not involved this time. Not even as a witness. You’ve already given your statement as to what you saw, but you weren’t even the first on the scene.” Again, I had the impression he was nervous. “That’s why I’m here, Fred, to let you know that, for once, you’re not involved. None of your family is. None of your friends or anyone you’re close to. I… didn’t want you to worry.”
“I know that. I wasn’t worried. I was teasing about Susan, mostly.” I started to laugh, but then I had a thought, one I knew with certainty was spot-on before I spoke. “But that’s not why you’re here, is it?” I tried to keep my voice neutral. “You’re not concerned about me being worried. You’re making it clear that I’m not involved, or more precisely, to keep my nose out of it.”
He grimaced. “I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth. I would never word it like that to you.”
Despite my efforts to keep my tone neutral, I placed my hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes. “So that isn’t why you’re here, then? You’re okay with me putting my nose in it?”
He narrowed his eyes right back at me. “Why would you put your nose in it, Fred? It doesn’t involve you.”
Anger flitted through me, even though I’d been saying the exact same thing mere moments ago upstairs. “If I recall, the last time someone was killed in Estes, you gave your blessing for me to figure it out. And I did. Mostly.”
“You were trying to clear your friend’s name. I wasn’t going to tell you no. But again, Henry’s death has absolutely nothing to do with you. You need to stay out of it.”
“I’m fairly certain I’ve made it clear that I don’t like being told what to do.” I knew it was ridiculous, and maybe even childish, but I tilted my chin and met him straight in the eyes, even if I did have to look up slightly to do it. “And I had absolutely no intention of getting involved.”
He nodded, looking relieved momentarily, and then his green eyes narrowed once more. “Had no intention of getting involved?”
“Just what I said. I had no intention of getting involved.” In the back of my mind, I could hear my mother chiding me for acting like a spoiled brat. But I could also hear my father laughing. “You’re the one who came here, Sergeant Wexler. You came to me. I’d say you’re the one trying to get me involved.”
He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “Really? You’re going to take that route? You’re better than that, Fred.”
“Am I? You think after a couple of dinners that you have me all figured out.”
For a second he looked like he was going to argue, but then he shut his mouth and glared. Watson let out a soft warning grumbling in his throat, and Branson glanced down, then returned his attention to me. “You have skill, Fred, you do. And like I’ve told you before, you have your father’s innate instincts.” His tone had grown placating, but hardened again. “However, you own a bookshop. Stick to selling books for this case. Let the police do their job.”
“I had no intention of….” My mind caught up with Branson’s words. “What do you mean this case?” Why this case? What’s different about it?
Once more I could swear Branson seemed flustered, but it was such a quick flash I couldn’t truly be sure. “I already made that clear, Fred. This doesn’t involve you. Your stepfather isn’t accused of murder, neither is your friend and business partner. The only thing it has to do with you is that you happened to be in the same forest when Henry was killed. If somehow that makes you a suspect, then I suppose that would also be true for Katie… and Leo.”
Watson whimpered at Leo’s name.
Granted, Branson truly had hit one of my biggest triggers right on the head. After I left my marriage, I swore I would never be told what to do again, especially in a way thick with condescension, so maybe my haze of anger was coloring my perception. I was sure it was. Well, whatever. “Was that a threat? That if I don’t listen to you then the police attention might turn toward Leo?”
“Don’t be hysterical, Fred.”
I laughed. It was that or punch him in the face. “Call me hysterical again, Branson, and I’ll make sure to demonstrate to you what that word truly means.”
“Now who’s threatening?”
I opened my mouth to retort, but shut it again. He had a point. And even if he didn’t, there was no good way for this to end if we kept going. As much as I hated to admit it, he was the policeman. I couldn’t see him doing something as petty as arresting me or charging me with anything, but unlike him, a few dinners together didn’t make me feel like I had the full measure of Branson Wexler. Which this conversation made more apparent. “Thank you for dropping by. I’m not sure if you noticed, but things are quite busy upstairs, and currently, Katie is the only paid person on staff dealing with the madness. I have work to do.”
“Fred….” His voice softened, and he reached for me.
I took a step back.
Branson dropped his hand, but his voice lost all hardness. “I’m sorry. I really am. I know I handled this wrong.”
For one disgusting moment, I nearly said it was okay, that I understood, and on the one hand, I did. H
e wasn’t wrong. He was a policeman, a sergeant. I sold books. There was no other request he could make that would make any more sense, and I didn’t care. “Yes. You did.”
“Again, I’m sorry.” He attempted a smile. “But even though I handled it poorly, I need to know that you understood.”
“This is your way of fixing it? Implying that I don’t understand simple English?” Okay, even I had to admit I was being petty at that point.
“Fred.” His tone held a hint of warning.
“Yes, Sergeant Wexler. I heard your words, and I understood them. Thank you for checking.”
He tilted his head, and I was certain he was about to ask me to clarify. That it wasn’t enough to say that I understood, but that I would comply.
Maybe not an unreasonable request from a police officer to a civilian. But one that might prompt a second murder in this space in the span of a couple of months.
Seeming aware of that fact, he gave a sharp nod. “Very well. Glad we understand each other. And I am sorry that I’ve ended up offending you.”
At least that much was different from my ex-husband. Although at this point, it wasn’t nearly enough of a difference to matter. “I need to get back to Katie.”
Another nod. “Have a good day, Fred.” He glanced down. “You too, Watson.”
I glared after him, watched him walk out the door and then out of sight past the large windows.
He was right. I knew that. And I was willing to bet Branson had done what my father would have if he’d been in a similar situation. Although I’d like to think my dad would’ve handled things smoother with a woman he cared about. And I truly did think Branson cared about me.
I also knew that in some way, I was being childish. I wasn’t simply going to find out who killed Henry because Branson told me not to, but that was part of it. I couldn’t pretend to care too much about Henry’s death. It was horrible for anyone to be killed, but outside of getting to witness the body firsthand, it didn’t feel any more personal than a story on the news. And, like Katie had implied, part of me had already been mapping out what might’ve happened. Maybe that would have been enough to get me involved. Probably so. But either way, Branson had made my choice perfectly clear.
Bickering Birds (Cozy Corgi Mysteries Book 3) Page 5