by Fiona Grace
Suddenly, she wondered if that was the real reason Detective Callihan had visited her that morning. Not because he was looking for an excuse to see her, but because he had reason to believe the vandalism was actually somehow connected to Marvin’s murder? Did Detective Callihan know something she didn’t? Was there a link between the murderer and the graffiti vandal? Were both crimes committed by the very same person?
Her mind went into overdrive as she ran the scenario through to its conclusion. The perpetrator, in an attempt to steer the investigation away from himself and toward the most believable scapegoat, had sprayed the slogan on her bakery. Perhaps he’d stayed there in the parking lot after killing Marvin, watching from the shadows, waiting to see which one of the vendors came upon the body first, and, knowing full well the person who found the body would be an instant suspect, slunk off in the night to deface their store and try to frame them.
There were a lot of ifs in that scenario—perhaps too many for Ali to really entertain the theory—but she couldn’t help but feel the paint was somehow a lead. It explained Detective Callihan’s involvement in something that should be a street cop’s job, or how it had even gotten onto his radar in the first place, considering she’d never actually called it in to the cops.
Perhaps she was just grasping desperately at straws, but there was only one way to find out, and that was to speak to the store owner about the green spray paint. If she found out who bought the spray paint, she may well find out who the killer was. The only problem was that if Piper and Teddy had already been inside his store today grilling with questions about his whereabouts, he may already be on the defensive. She’d have to take a slightly different tack.
Excited to have a new route to pursue again, Ali quickened her step.
*
The smell of turpentine wafted in Ali’s nostrils as she entered Sid’s Supplies and glanced around. The metal shelves were stacked tall, filled with all kinds of different paints and art supplies. It was more industrial inside than Ali had pictured in her mind’s eye, clearly catering to a younger, edgier crowd, instead of an older watercolor and fine-arts one. Among the vast array of spray cans, tubes of acrylics, stencils and box cutters were books on contemporary photography, digital art, and graffiti. Sid definitely was definitely aspiring to be a city-slicker, and Ali couldn’t help but wonder why he’d chosen to open his store in a small, beach-side tourist town like Willow Bay.
She went up to the counter where a skinny man in a black beanie hat was drawing a manga-style cartoon with a thick black marker pen. The smell was intoxicating, and Ali wafted her hand in front of her nose as she approached.
The man looked up from his artwork at her. “Hey.”
“Nice drawing,” Ali said, deciding her best strategy here was to break the ice with flattery.
“Ah thanks,” he replied, sounding somewhat self-conscious. “I’m just doodling, really.”
He was clearly doing significantly more than doodling. The manga character was fully formed, an action-hero style woman on a skateboard. Ali suspected he’d probably gotten inspiration from the skater kids doing tricks outside his store every minute of the day.
He snapped the lid back on his sharpie. “How can I help you?”
“Are you Sid?”
He nodded. “Yup.”
“Then you’re just the guy to help.” She held up both her arms to show the streaks of bright green pain running down them. “I have a bit of a problem. I spilled this everywhere. Now I‘ve nothing left to put where it's meant to be, and I can’t scrub it off where it’s not! So I guess I need some green to finish the job, and some white to tidy it up. Will white cover it?”
She decided not to mention anything to do with it being spray paint, or anything to do with graffiti at all, just in case Sid suspected what she was up to.
“Ah,” he said. “Well, the cans are over here. We’ve still got some of that color in stock. As for covering it up… What surface did you get it on? Just the walls?”
He led her through the shelves as he spoke, and they stopped beside the range of spray cans.
“Yeah, just the walls.”
“Then this should do the trick,” he said, bending down and patting a large tin that looked both heavy and expensive. Ali really hoped she wasn’t going to have to shell out a bunch of cash just to keep up the ruse.
“Cool, that looks good. And the green?”
He checked her arms again. “Is it spray paint?” he asked, and there was a slight shift in tone that didn’t go over Ali’s head.
She nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“This way,” Sid said, but his demeanor had subtly changed now, and Ali wondered if he could sense she was up to something.
They stopped by the shelves of spray paints. There were at least a hundred different shades, and Sid began searching through the various greens, comparing the colors on the side of the cans to the streaks of paint on her arms.
“So how long has your store been here?” Ali asked, as he rummaged around, checking the cans. “I’m fairly new to Willow Bay, but I can’t remember if you were here before me or not.”
“About a year.”
“But you’re not local?” She’d noted his accent the moment they’d started speaking. It was a subtle lilt, but enough to tell her he was not a native Californian.
“Texas,” he said. “Corpus Christi Bay.”
“Corpus Christi Bay?” Ali repeated, recognizing the name of the coastal city and trying to work out from where. “Wait. Isn’t that where Sullivan Raine’s from?”
“Yup,” he replied, sounding distinctly unimpressed. Not that it told her much—most people on the boardwalk disliked Sullivan Raine—but she’d thought he would’ve at least acknowledged the bizarre coincidence.
“So how did a Texas guy end up opening a store in Willow Bay?” she asked. She kept her tone conversational, light, and curious. But on the inside, she could feel her nerves rattling.
“I wanted to stay on the coast,” he replied. “It’s what I know. Had to be cheap, of course.”
“Is Corpus Christi expensive?”
Sid let out a derisive laugh. “It was by the time Sullivan Raine was done with it.”
Ali was about to ask what he meant by that but didn’t get a chance, because he was holding up a spray can to her and saying, “There. That’s your color. Toxic-waste green.”
She took the can and forced out a smile. “That’s the one. Thanks.”
As she followed him back to the counter to ring up her purchases, Ali went through what she’d just learned. She needed to know more about his comment about Sullivan Raine. Whether it was significant or not, she couldn’t tell, but it had certainly stood out to her for the coincidence of it at the very least.
“So Sullivan was a big shot property mogul back in your hometown, too, huh?” she said to the back of Sid’s black beanie, as she followed him through the shelves. “Is that why you wanted to get away?”
“Bingo,” Sid replied. “He’d managed to get the rents and taxes jacked up so high already there was no way I’d be able to open a store there. First he drove out the eateries. Then all the entertainment places. Then pretty much everyone else.”
“Bit like here,” Ali commented.
“Exactly.”
They reached the till, and as Sid began to ring up her purchases, Ali heard her phone bleep with an incoming text. It was from Piper.
‘Sorry, Ali. We spoke to everyone on the boardwalk. None of them even knew about the second phase of the bill.’
Ali frowned and put her phone back away. If none of the business owners knew about the bill, then none of them had a motive.
Then suddenly, Ali realized something. One of them did know about the bill, because they went through it before. Sid. The man standing in front of her, ringing up her purchases. He knew Marvin and Sullivan’s plans from his time in Corpus Christi. Which meant he must’ve lied to Piper when she was in here earlier questioning him. Why?
“That will be fifteen dollars,” Sid said, his voice breaking through her thoughts.
Ali reached into her pocket and pulled out a note. But as she handed it across the counter to him, she saw something that made her heart fly into her throat. The fingers of Sid’s outstretched hand were stained with faded paint, just like the skin on her arms. The paint was green. Toxic-waste green…
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Ali gasped, her mind ticking frantically. Was Sid the graffiti artist? Had he used his own stock? Was Sid the killer?
Her heart started to pound with terror.
“You okay?” came Sid’s voice from the other side of the counter.
Ali tore her eyes from the green paint on his fingers and forced out a smile. “Yeah. Great.”
But Sid was clearly no fool. He must have spotted Ali looking at the paint, because a flash of understanding registered in his eyes. He’d been discovered.
It all happened in a flash.
Sid bolted for the door.
Ali went out after him.
She raced onto the sunny boardwalk, squinting against the glare of the sun. Sid was running full speed. The skater kids were staring at him with surprise.
Ali hit on an idea.
“Hey! You guys!” she cried to skaters. “Get him!”
The kids, who she all recognized as customers, just stared at her like she was crazy.
“Isn’t that the cupcake lady?” one of them said to their friend.
“Yes!” Ali cried. “I’ll give you free cupcakes if you get that man!”
It worked. The kids exchanged a nod between one another then took off on their skateboards.
As they flew down the boardwalk after Sid, Ali took chase after them. She grabbed her phone and dialed Detective Sebastian Callihan directly.
“Ali?” he asked as he answered.
“Sebastian,” she panted. “Where are you?”
“I’m on the boardwalk,” he said. “Why?” Then after a pause, he added, “Are you running?” He couldn’t have sounded more baffled if he’d tried.
“The k—killer!” Ali cried, huffing and panting through her words as her legs pounded along. “It’s the graff—the graffiti guy, right?”
Though she personally didn’t know what clue Detective Callihan had found to connect the two crimes, she was certain that was the line he was pursuing.
“We believe so,” he answered in the same calm, cautious, confused voice. “At least, that’s one of our theories. How did you know?”
“Doesn’t matter!” Ali yelled, grasping at her side where a sharp, painful stitch was starting to form. “Point is, I know who it is. And I’m ch—chasing him right now.”
“Ali…!” Detective Callihan cried, in a warning voice. “That’s why you’re running? I thought you were on a Delaney-jog or something! So when I told you to keep out of it, you decided to promptly ignore me?”
There was no time for a debate. Besides, Ali had completely run out of breath.
“Just get here,” she snapped, using up what felt like the last precious supply of oxygen in her lungs.
She ended the call, shoved her phone into her pocket, and kept running. Or at least, she kept fast walking. Running probably wasn’t an accurate way to describe it anymore. It was closer to a hobble, with one hand pressed into her stitch, the other on her pounding heart, feeling like it was about to burst out of her chest.
Luckily at that moment, she spotted the skater kids as they reached Sid and knocked him to the floor. He fell and hit the boards, spinning several times before landing face down on his chest. Whereby the three skater kids enthusiastically flung themselves on top of him.
“Oh thank goodness for that!” Ali exclaimed, and she slowed to a stagger.
Just then, she heard a bark, and turned to see Scruff come galloping along to see what all the fuss was about.
“Bad man!” Ali panted, pointing ahead to where Sid was lying in a heap on the ground. “Get the bad man.”
Scruff didn’t waste a moment. He cantered off at Ali’s command and leapt onto the flailing Sid’s back, along with the three skater kids. Even from here, Ali could hear Sid’s angry cries of, “Get off!” But the kids weren’t budging an inch. Between the three of them, and with Scruff’s help, they had him pinned down. One of them—a girl with long blonde hair—maneuvered herself into a seated position on Sid’s back, then looked around for Ali. When she found her, she grinned a gap-toothed grin and flashed two thumbs up.
From the other end of the boardwalk, Ali spotted Detective Callihan racing toward the heap of limbs and fur. Ali hastened her step. It would be for the best if she was there to explain the whole thing to Detective Callihan rather than let the skater kids tell him their interpretation of events…
She raced up to the flailing, angry lump of Sid. He looked furious, his face red with anger.
“Will you get the hell off me!” he was screeching.
“Hey lady” the blonde girl called. “Those free cupcakes. They do come with frosting and sprinkles, right?”
“They come with anything you like,” Ali told her.
She was so relieved an end had come to the whole debacle that she’d probably bake them a three-tiered cake if they asked!
Detective Callihan reached them, assessing the scene quickly. He flashed Ali a stern, you’d-better-be-right-about-this look.
Ali jumped right in with her explanation, before he got a chance to chastise her for sticking her oar in.
“This is Sid from the art store,” Ali explained. “Originally from Corpus Christi Bay, Texas. Hometown of—”
“—Sullivan Raine, yes I know all this,” Detective Callihan interrupted. “I am a detective, in case you’d forgotten.”
“Oooh!” the skater kids cried.
“Someone’s pissed,” the girl added.
The three dissolved into laughter.
Detective Callihan ignored them. He put his hands on his hips. “Ali. Start talking, now. Why are three kids and a dog pinning him to the ground?”
Ali reached down and grabbed Sid’s hand. He tried to wrestle his arm away from her grasp, but he was pinned down at the shoulders by the skaters, and wasn’t going anywhere.
“He’s the guy who defaced my store,” Ali announced, showing off the green staining his fingers.
Detective Callihan’s eyes widened with surprise. It was definitely a positive surprise. Ali had already guessed Detective Callihan’s interest in the graffiti artist was bigger than just his vandalism of the store, that he was the prime suspect for Marvin’s murder, and the astonished look in his eyes all but confirmed it.
But then Detective Callihan frowned with uncertainty. He retrieved his notepad from the breast pocket of his crisp white shirt. “Sid…” he murmured, flicking through the pages containing all the statements from the boardwalk vendors. When he found Sid’s statement, he scanned it quickly. Then he let out a deep sigh of disappointment. “He has an alibi, Ali. He was at a skate show at the time of the murder. Ticket stubs confirm it.”
Ali couldn't believe it. Sid had an alibi? He wasn’t the killer? Disappointment bit.
The blond girl sitting on Sid’s back looked up. “Are you talking about the skate show last night? They had to cancel it five minutes in. One of the performers broke their arm.”
“It was gnarly,” the boy beside her replied with a gleeful grin.
Ali and Detective Callihan exchanged a look. Sid’s alibi had fallen apart.
Detective Callihan leapt into action, grabbing his cuffs and kneeling down. He snapped them on as he began to read Sid’s rights.
“I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder.”
“COOL!” the boy on Sid’s back cried, at the exact time Sid cried, “MURDER?”
Detective Callihan continued his spiel, before dragging Sid to his feet.
“I didn’t murder anyone!” Sid was crying. “All I did was graff her store! That’s it, I swear!”
Detective Callihan ignored his prot
estations.
As he dragged Sid away, Detective Callihan gave Ali a nod. “Thank you,” he said.
Ali felt vindicated. It was a lovely moment of retribution.
But as she watched Sid being led away, she suddenly remembered something. She’d been so focused on the case that she'd completely forgotten all about the vote!
She had to leave—now!
‘More running,’ she groaned internally, and she turned to race away.
“Hey!” the skater girl cried from behind. “What about our cupcakes?”
“Seaside Sweets,” Ali called over her shoulder as she took off once again. “Come in whenever. I’ll give you all the cupcakes you want!”
And without wasting another second, she raced off down the boardwalk in the direction of the town hall.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Ali arrived at the town hall, out of breath from sprinting. A group of people had congregated outside, and the atmosphere was tense, as if everyone was on tenterhooks. Ali scanned the attendees, noticing Miriyam and Devon, and Cillian, among other vendors of the boardwalk eateries. But it wasn’t just eateries that were represented, she realized. There were other types of business owners here, like Jenna from the bookstore, the man from the vintage clothes store, and the owner of Boardwalk Bikinis. Did Ali dare to hope her message had gotten through? That after hearing her speech, the rest of the businesses had come to realize that they’d be next, that they all needed to stick together? It felt too much like tempting fate.
When she spotted Seth, standing beside Delaney, she beelined for them.
“Hey,” she said, touching Seth’s tanned arm lightly as she emerged through the crowd. “Any news?”
“Ali, hey,” he replied with a smile, which promptly turned into a smirk as he looked her up and down. “Did you run here?”