by Fiona Grace
Her curiosity got the better of her. She pushed off from the door and took off down the alleyway.
It felt so different in the daylight, so unextraordinary. But Ali knew what had transpired in the parking lot at the other end, and her throat tightened with anxiety as she walked all the way to the other side and peeped cautiously out.
The parking lot was completely empty. There was no sign of the chaos that had taken place the night before. No cars. Not even a piece of crime-scene tape fluttering in the breeze. It was almost as if the terrible event last night had never taken place, and for the briefest of moments, Ali allowed herself to consider that it had all just been another one of her terrible dreams.
That was, until she heard the sound of tires on the gravel, and ducked back behind the wall out of sight, just in time for a large silver car to come crawling into the lot. She watched it round the corner of the building, as it parked, and a man hopped out.
Ali recognized him right away. It was the speaker from last night’s debate! The nervous man with the goatee. She wondered what he was doing there, if the council offices above the town hall were closed for the day. Did he not get the memo? Or had morbid curiosity caused him to return, as it had done Ali herself?
She watched silently as the short, tubby man marched away from his vehicle, one hand rummaging in his pocket before retrieving a big bunch of jangling keys and realized that he was coming right this way. She remembered the side door in the alleyway, which was presumably his destination since the front was chained up and scooted off toward the front of the building. Too late.
“Hey! Who’s that?” he cried along the shadows.
Ali halted. Then she turned to face him. “It’s me. Ali Sweet. From the debate last night.”
“Oh,” he said simply. “Are you here to drop off flowers? You can give them to me. I’ve been sent here to clear them all off the steps anyway.”
Ali instantly felt guilty that it hadn’t even crossed her mind to lay flowers in respect of the deceased man. Her sole focus had been on bringing his killer to justice. She liked to think, in the grand scheme of things, that in itself was the act of ultimate respect.
Ali paused as a thought hit her, and then she stepped closer to the man along the alleyway so as not to have to shout to be heard. “Why are you clearing away the flowers? Marvin’s been dead less than a day. Isn’t that a bit fast?”
The speaker nodded his agreement. “You’d think. But they want the steps clear.”
“They?”
“The council members.”
“Why?”
“For the vote tonight.”
Ali gasped in shock. “You mean the vote for the bill? It’s still happening?”
She had simply assumed, as had every vendor on the boardwalk, that the vote would be cancelled, much in the same way the town hall doors had been locked and the council’s operations stopped for the day.
“Of course,” the speaker continued. “They decided it would be even more disrespectful to Marvin’s memory to cancel the vote than it would be to go ahead with it. So that’s why I’m here, to get the place ready.”
Ali’s stomach started to turn. The bill was still going to be voted on this evening? After everything that had happened, they might all lose their businesses anyway, and Marvin Chessley might still win, even in death?
Ali’s heart began to race as she turned this new piece of information over and over in her mind. If Marvin had been killed for his political views by a rival—as was the theory she was here to test—then they had failed. The vote was still going ahead. Which meant the killer would presumably be in a state of despair round about now, having committed murder out of desperation and gaining nothing.
Just then, she spotted movement in the window of the office above the door where she and Mr. Goatee were speaking. There was someone up in the office, watching them in conversation.
“Isn’t the office supposed to be closed?” she said.
The speaker nodded confirmation. “That’s right. Closed for the working day at least. It’ll be open again this evening for the vote.”
Ali’s eyes roved slowly up to the window once more, and this time she pointed a finger. Her voice trembled as she asked, “Then who’s that?”
The speaker’s face snapped up, following her pointed finger, and he blanched like he’d seen a ghost. “No idea,” he murmured, his eyes wide. He started backing away, before he turned, and took off running.
“Wait!” Ali cried.
She glanced back up at the window to discover the figure had disappeared. Whoever had been watching them knew he’d been seen. Was it the killer? Was he heading this way?
Ali sprang into action. She raced off down the alley, following the footsteps of the speaker. He disappeared from sight, into the lot, and a second later Ali heard the revving noise of a car engine. He was running away! Leaving her to the wolves!
She reached the end of the alley and raced into the lot, just in time to see Mr. Goatee speeding off in his car, its wheels turning so quickly against the loose gravel stones, dust was kicked into the air in his wake.
Ali coughed and shielded her eyes from the plume.
Then a voice sounded behind her. “Ali? Ali Sweet?”
There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. Ali was stuck in the parking lot, alone, out of options. If the man in the window was Marvin Chessley’s killer, then he already knew she was on to him, and he knew her by name. Even if she got away, she wouldn’t be safe.
There was nothing else for it. She would have to be brave and face him.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, and slowly turned around.
Her eyes locked with Councilman Rodrigo da Silva.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
All the breath stuck in Ali’s lungs. She’d come to the town hall on the hypothesis that Marvin’s killer was a political rival, and she’d found the place empty save for one man, the man in the window looking out over the crime scene. Now that man had revealed himself to be Rodrigo da Silva. Marvin’s political rival.
Ali’s mind flashed back to the meeting the night before, to Rodrigo da Silva shouting irately into his microphone. Of everyone in that hall besides herself, Councilman da Silva had been the most vocal about his opposition to the bill. In fact, he’d been visibly furious. Enough to shake with rage. Enough to kill?
Ali’s mind raced through it all, putting together all the clues and puzzle pieces that pointe to Rodrigo da Silva as the culprit. There was the fact that he had not been outside with the vendors during the time frame Marvin was killed;Ali had spotted him through the crack in the back door as she headed into the parking lot, tidying away the chairs and tables with the administrator. At that point in time, Marvin was likely already dead in his car, killed during the five minutes the vendors had headed out and congregated at the front. That was plenty of time for a murderously irate Rodrigo da Silva to stalk out the back door after him, follow him to his car unnoticed in the darkness of the parking lot, and squeeze the life out of him. And if that scenario was really how it had gone down, Ali’s sighting of Rodrigo da Silva through the crack in the back door must have come a matter of seconds after he’d returned to the hall, a matter of seconds after he’d crossed the ultimate line and committed the most dreadful act.
Suddenly she wished the speaker had not run away. Not because of her own safety, but because he was the only other person in the hall besides Rodrigo at the time she’d seen him, which meant he was the one person in the world who could provide the man with an alibi. Without hearing the speaker’s version of events, the theory her mind had conjured may very well be the truth. And she may very well be standing face to face with the killer of Marvin Chessley.
Her face snapped up again, assessing Rodrigo da Silva, searching for any signs on his face that might reveal he was the culprit. Any guilty tells. Any nervous twitches or anxious tics. There was nothing. He looked exactly like the same guy he’d been yesterday, passionate about his beliefs, slight
ly exasperated by the fight, and perhaps a little haunted by all that had since transpired.
“It is Ali Sweet, right?” he said, his Brazilian accent disarmingly soft. He reminded Ali of a kind math teacher, self-consciously nerdy but fiercely intelligent. There was something sharp and knowing in his eyes, and nothing that even hinted at nefariousness.
“That’s right,” she said, her voice unsteady.
“I was hoping to speak to you again.”
A tremble went through her. “You were?”
“Yes. I wanted to tell you how impressive you were last night. You managed to speak to those guys in a way I’ve never been able to. I think they got it, finally. They look up to you. You’re one of them, so they listened to you.”
Ali narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t work out what his game was here. Was he trying to use flattery to throw her off? Or worse—was he trying to make it seem like they were on the same team, dragging her in as an equal partner in the act of murder. Whatever he was doing, Ali had to keep her wits about her. She didn’t trust this man, not even one inch.
“Thanks,” she said, her mind frantic about where to go next. “What are you doing here? The offices are closed.” She wanted to add, pointedly, “out of respect for the dead,” but decided to hold her tongue. She didn’t want to show her cards too soon.
“The hall is closed,” he corrected. “To the public. The offices are still open for us workers.”
Ali jerked her thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of the empty parking lot. “You’re the only one here. No one else thought it was appropriate to come to work today after their colleague was murdered.”
She winced internally the second the words were out of her mouth, realizing instantly that she’d let her own judgement slip out. Indeed, by the change in Rodrigo’s expression, she knew he’d heard it too.
“Not everyone has the luxury of a day off,” he said. “I work tirelessly for this community. It’s not just a job to me. It’s about people. Real people. Real lives. I don’t take that lightly.”
Ali paused as she let his words sink in. Why was he telling her this? Was he trying to explain his actions, to justify them? Was he trying to say he’d killed Marvin Chessley for the greater good? There was only one way to find out. She had to put the pressure on. He clearly had something he wanted to get off his chest.
Suddenly, Ali realized how to get him to show his hand. The speaker had told her earlier that the vote was still going ahead despite the death of Marvin. But did Rodrigo da Silva know that? Right now, he seemed to be behaving normally. So what would happen if she broke the news? If he was the killer, he’d be devastated to learn his plan had failed, after paying such a high personal cost.
“Do you think the vote will go our way tonight?” she asked, careful not to let anything close to sly sound in her voice.
“Hard to say,” Rodrigo replied without missing a beat. “After your impassioned speech, I think we stand a chance.”
Ali studied his face as he spoke. Nothing changed. Not even the smallest hint that the news of the vote was still going ahead had come as a surprise to him.
Instead, Ali was the one who was surprised.
“You knew the vote would continue?” she asked.
“Of course,” he replied. “It’s standard practice. Luckily, it doesn’t come up often, thank the Lord.” He crossed his chest. “But the death of a council member falls under ‘acts of God,’ same as a flood, or a blizzard. It doesn’t give good enough cause to cancel a scheduled vote.”
Ail hesitated, her mind turning it all over. Rodrigo da Silva knew the bill would go ahead come hell or high water. Nothing could stop it, not even murdering Marvin Chessley. Which meant killing Marvin would be futile if the goal was to stop the bill being passed, and that left Councilman da Silva with absolutely no motive whatsoever. He was not the killer.
Relief washed through Ali like a wave. She liked Councilman da Silva, on a political and personal level, and she was glad to come to the conclusion he was not a murderer. But that feeling was quickly replaced by the sting of disappointment. Because now she was no closer to solving the murder. She’d come here looking for a political motive behind the murder, and had come up empty handed.
Unless…
The light bulb flashed in Ali’s mind. She fixed her gaze on Rodrigo, seeing him now as an ally, a crucial informant who could help her solve the case.
“Marvin was only a councilman for three days,” she said. “That’s right, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Who held the role before him?”
“Thomas Bacon.”
“Thomas Bacon,” Ali repeated, her stomach rumbling unwantedly as the mention of one of her favorite breakfast foods reminded her that she’d barely eaten. “Had he held the position for long?”
“Only fifty years,” Rodrigo said with a chuckle.
Ali’s eyes widened. Fifty years was a long time to hold on to a job, only for it to be ripped out from under your feet by a smarmy silver fox bussed in to be a proxy of a Texan cowboy! What if this was the guy who’d killed Marvin? Not someone politically opposed to him, someone politically aligned with him? Someone who was furious he’d lost his job?
“Thomas Bacon must have been stung when he lost his job of fifty years to a guy who didn’t even live in the community.”
“I don’t think so,” Rodrigo replied, shaking his head. “Councilman Bacon was planning on retiring soon anyway.” Then he lowered his voice, his brown eyes darting left and right quickly as if checking for eavesdroppers. “Besides, Marvin made sure it was beneficial for him to step aside.”
Ali gasped, instantly understanding what he was saying. “They made a back-room deal? A secret handshake?”
Rodrigo nodded. “Sullivan paid Councilman Bacon handsomely to step aside so his own guy could take the reins.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“Of course. That’s why I’m telling you. You proved to me when you stood up in the town hall last night that you understand the corruption that goes on behind closed doors and are willing to do something about it.”
It was a lot to take in, and Ali felt the weight of it all pressing on her shoulders. Not only had Rodrigo confirmed what she’d long suspected—that Sullivan was gaming the system—but he’d also put a huge burden of responsibility on her. Suspecting dodgy dealings and knowing them were too different things. She couldn’t, in good conscience, sit on this. Just like with Marco and his sham lawsuit, when she saw injustice taking place, she had to do something about it.
But first, she had a murder to solve. And now that she knew that Marvin only got his job with the complete collusion of the man he’d taken it from, she could cross Thomas Bacon off of her suspect list. He had no need for revenge, and thus no motive. He wasn’t the killer. Neither was Rodrigo, his opponent, who knew full well that killing the man would not kill the bill.
Which brought Ali full circle. The murderer wasn’t a vendor on the boardwalk whose business would be ruined by Marvin’s bill. It wasn’t a political rival. It wasn't a political ally. Then who the heck was it?
She was growing increasingly frustrated. But there was just too much at stake to give up now. Somewhere, somehow, there would be a clue that blew the case wide open. The smallest crumb that unlocked the whole thing. She just had to find it.
“This deal,” she said, looking into Rodrigo da Silva’s sharp, brown eyes. “Between Sullivan and Marvin, and Councilman Bacon. It doesn’t stop just at the boardwalk eateries, does it?”
The Councilor’s eyes sparked with evident surprise, and even the smallest hint of awe that Ali had worked it out.
“No,” he confirmed. “That’s how it starts. Death by a thousand cuts. First it’s the eateries, then it’s the entertainment venues. Sullivan doesn’t just run a steakhouse franchise. He has a cineplex. Ice rink. Bowling alley. I’ve seen the proposed bills, Ali.” He shook his head. “It would devastate Willow Bay.”
&n
bsp; Ali gasped. The plan between the property mogul and his councilman friend was far more extensive than she’d ever realized.
She cast her mind back to the moment she’d first heard the name Sullivan Raine. It had drifted into town off the back of a rumor. A rumor that turned out to be true. In other words… a leak.
“Do you think someone leaked that information to us?” Ali asked. “I mean, all us vendors knew before it was common knowledge that there was an unfair tax bill on the horizon. So if we knew about our bill, then the entertainment owners might also know about their bill.”
“It’s very likely,” Rodrigo confirmed with a nod.
Ali’s mind was set into overdrive. Her investigation had broadened tenfold. Now it wasn’t just the vendors on the boardwalk who wanted Marvin dead, it could very well be anyone with a business on the boardwalk. The case had been blown wide open.
“I—I have to go,” Ali said, her voice shaky from the million thoughts spinning around in it.
“Think about what I’ve told you, please?” Rodrigo da Silva asked her. “We really need a hero to save this town, and I really think that person might be you.”
The tone in his voice sent chills down Ali’s spine. There was so much more at stake here than she’d ever realized when she threw herself into this investigation. And she was more determined than ever to solve the crime and save her dream life.
*
Everything Ali had learned percolated in her mind as she ran back to the bakery. Her conversation with Rodrigo da Silva had thrown up more new leads to pursue, and Ali was eager to pursue them.
She pushed open the bakery door and staggered in to discover Teddy and Piper inside.
“YOU!” Teddy was screaming, his face red with rage, a finger of accusation pointed at Piper. “You’re a MURDERER!”
Piper’s eyes welled with tears, and she shook her head, her hands raised into truce position. “It wasn’t like that. I swear to you. It was an accident.”