by Hannah Reed
Oops.
Seventeen
Lori Spandle and I have been getting in each other’s face since first grade when she started our ongoing war by throwing me off the school’s play equipment. I’d broken my arm.
So her little dip in the river was nothing compared to some of our earlier skirmishes.
She came up out of the murky water sputtering and spitting, her round face beet red, which was really nothing new. It was a pleasure to watch as the rental papers scattered in the water, sinking slowly, the ink running in unreadable streaks.
Others stepped forward to help Lori out of the water. I could hear her swearing like a truck driver, showing the world the real Lori Spandle. I immediately stepped back, happy that my small role hadn’t been obvious to the rest of the group. Hunter, however, was on to me immediately.
“Did you really just push Lori into the river?” he whispered, the lightness of his tone cluing me in that he was enjoying the moment almost as much as I was. He’d seen Lori in action and didn’t like what he saw, either. As part of her quest to undermine me, Lori had actually hit on Hunter back in high school, and then again after we reconnected as adults. Wasn’t she supposed to be married? Such a pity our poor cuckolded town chairman, Grant, was stuck with her as a wife! Although her husband wasn’t a great prize himself.
“You’re going to appreciate it even more,” I said to Hunter, leading him away as quickly as possible, “once you hear what she’s up to now.”
I hurried Hunter over to Stu’s, to an outdoor table behind the bar and grill, out of sight, but definitely not out of Lori’s mind, based on my name, which was being taken in a whole lot of vain. I’d have to watch my back with her, but what else was new?
Hunter released Ben from the leash, and he plopped down at our feet, licking his paws.
“Have you told Sally about the Patti connection yet?” Hunter wanted to know.
“I will. Right after we leave here.” At the moment my mind was on Lori and my mother. “Brace yourself,” I warned Hunter. “This is not pleasant news.”
He sighed, one of those really tired kinds of sighs—deep and long, implying he wasn’t prepared for what I had to offer, but was resigned to whatever it turned out to be.
“My mother and Tom Stocke are moving in together,” I told him. Hunter’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I know,” I said. “Who would have thought? Aren’t they way too old for that sort of thing?”
Hunter pondered my announcement for a few minutes then decided to say, “Good for them. I like Tom. He’s good people.”
What? Was I the only one who could see how wrong this was? Holly approved. So did Grams. Now Hunter, too?
I cleared my throat. “There is just one tiny issue that goes along with their decision. One small problem we need to discuss.”
“I’m braced,” he said.
“Mom and Tom are moving in next door to us, into my ex’s vacant house.”
To the casual observer, nothing about Hunter changed much. You’d have to know him as well as I do to see the signs. They were subtle—jaw and lips a little tighter, nostrils slightly twitching (one at a time), Adam’s apple quivering, eyes planted on the river as though deep in thought.
As I waited for him to say something, I tried not to revert to the same old pessimism I’d been struggling with. I wanted to believe in the power of us. He wasn’t going to leave me over this, was he? My mother had never been kind to him. Hunter didn’t deserve what she was about to dish out. In fact, he shouldn’t have to go through any of what my whole family was dragging him into. A body in his new yard, his live-in lover (that’s me) the bearer of poisoned carrot juice, my mother spying from next door, like a vulture, watching and waiting.
If I was Hunter, I might run like hell.
I waited some more.
Eventually, he rubbed his chin. He scanned the river. What was he thinking? Was I turning out to be a liability he couldn’t afford? After what seemed like forever, Hunter finally spoke. “I’m going back to the house for something to relieve the headache I feel coming on.”
The house. During the honeymoon phase, it had been “our” house; then when things got dicey it turned into “my” house; now it was “the” house. Not a good sign.
“Are you okay?” I had to know. Please say yes.
“Probably,” Hunter replied.
Right then, we were interrupted by a very unpleasant piece of news delivered without a single gossipy bit of advance warning. Someone from the top of the bridge, right above us, said, “Well, look what we have here.”
I didn’t have to look up to know that smug, arrogant voice.
Johnny Jay! He was back. And the timing couldn’t be worse.
I should have immediately found Sally when I had the chance and given her the information about Patti. Now the chief was back in town which meant that Sally was back to being just a regular cop. Darn. Well, at least Hunter was here to support me.
Hunter went into professional mode and greeted the chief as he walked down from the bridge to join us. Then Hunter said, “We have a few more pieces of the murder puzzle. Why don’t you sit down with us and we’ll fill you in?”
“I don’t need Fischer’s twisted interpretation of the truth,” Johnny said. “Or anything from her boyfriend, either. You aren’t on this case, Wallace.”
“I know that,” Hunter said. “But you’ll want to hear what we know.”
Johnny Jay pulled a phone from his belt and punched in numbers. Hunter rubbed his forehead.
“I’m trying to explain to Hunter Wallace that he isn’t needed here,” Johnny said after identifying himself.
Hunter closed his eyes and rubbed his head some more.
“Your captain wants to speak to you,” the chief said snidely, handing the phone to Hunter. Johnny Jay’s territorialism has been broadcast far and wide and nobody challenges his authority unless they want a long battle. It just isn’t worth it to most other law enforcement agencies.
Hunter listened, then disconnected and handed the phone back to the chief. “I need to get going,” he said. I suspected he was being called off to preserve the peace. Hunter and Johnny Jay have gone a few rounds in the past and this had the potential of escalating into one of those manly pushing and shoving and in-your-face situations. His captain was probably doing a smart thing.
“You’ll be okay?” Hunter asked me.
“I can handle myself,” I half truthed, then watched him take off with Ben.
The chief eyed me with a scowl. “You and your sister stay put. Don’t attempt to leave town.”
“When have I ever run away from a fight with you?” I replied, playing tough. “I live for these moments.”
“Fischer, I’m going to keep reading my legal book until the time is right, and then I’m going to throw it at you.”
“Bring it on,” I said.
“And where is that nosy neighbor of yours?” he asked. “I’d like a word or two with her.”
“You’re on your own there.”
I went back to the store, tired from a very long day. After making sure everything was stocked properly and running smoothly for the evening with the twins on duty, I went home.
Later, when Hunter and Ben came home, we sat on the front porch, eating Chinese carryout right from the boxes. We didn’t really have much to say to each other.
Patti’s house was dark.
So was Mom’s future home.
Male bullfrogs called into the night, trying to attract females. The river hummed with awakening nocturnal life.
When Hunter went inside, I decided to push my kayak out onto the river and spent the next few hours paddling around, clearing my mind of all thoughts.
When I returned, Hunter and Ben were back outside, waiting for me on the bank. Hunter wrapped his arm around my shoulders and we walked into the house, which still seemed to be waiting for the right possessive noun to make it special.
Eighteen
Bright and early Monday mo
rning I tended to my bees, greeting them as they came out on their little hive porches and flew off to forage. The summer months are carefree in the apiary, since honeybees are able to find so many flowering plants. Some of my bees landed on me before taking off, up close and personal with all those little eyes. I wasn’t wearing my bee suit but I’d taken the standard precautions, most of which are plain common sense. As I tell visitors in advance:
Don’t wear perfumes or strongly scented shaving creams. Either the bees will mistake you for a flower, or they will take a strong dislike to your smell and let you know how they feel. Either way, you might get stung.
Wear light colors (whites and beiges). The very worst would be a bright floral pattern. Same reason. Don’t look like a flower.
Since honeybees are naturally curious, they will crawl inside loose-fitting clothing, get trapped, and start stinging. Sweat pants with elastic cuffs and rubber bands to keep them out of tight places are a beekeeper’s best friends.
Don’t go barefoot, especially in a yard like mine where I encourage clover and dandelions to sprout freely. Little critters can’t see giant feet descending until it’s too late for both of you.
See? All common sense.
After my bee hello, I had to deal with a canoe on the river. I don’t usually pay any attention to traffic on the river, but these two guys were taking pictures of my backyard from one of Stu’s rental canoes. I threw a stone or two and they took off. The nerve!
Then I tossed a Frisbee for Ben until I was exhausted (he could have played forever), packed my man off with a kiss, and walked down Main Street to open the store. Milly Hopincourt showed up first. Thankfully, everything seemed back to normal, the way it should be, the way I needed it to be.
“I’m handling all the meals for the Paines’ guests,” she informed me.
“You shouldn’t have to do that.”
“Max is paying me very well. The extra cash will come in handy. Besides, I’m enjoying it so much I’m considering opening a catering business.” With that, she headed down the aisles to stock up on supplies for her next round of meals.
Carrie Ann came in next, saying, “Sure has been a lot of action around here.” I noticed how fresh-eyed she was. As her cousin and friend, I pay attention to things like that. We can’t let her dive back into the bottom of a bottle of beer, or vodka, or whatever she used to drink, which was just about anything she could get her hands on.
“The police chief is back in town,” I told her.
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry,” she said. “That man has one big vendetta against you.”
“Tell me about it.”
My cousin settled in behind the cash register while I straightened my Queen Bee Honey display and considered Johnny Jay’s prejudiced attitude and fat-skulled head. Not listening to the information Hunter and I had was downright unprofessional on his part. By now Sally must have run a background check on Nova, and the chief should already know that Nova and Patti had been married to the same man. Even the most incompetent investigator should’ve been able to track down that info. The part about Patti wading into the river, though, was an important detail only known by Hunter and me.
So, since Johnny had gotten all snarky and cut us off, did we have any further obligation to keep trying? What had he said about me, that he didn’t need my twisted interpretation of the truth? Fine then. Johnny Jay could take a flying leap, that’s what.
I was beginning to understand how Patti could have written that awful article to redirect the investigation away from herself. Because my whole family could profit from a little redirecting right back at her with the news that she had been the last one to see Nova alive. Murder, I’m finding out, brings out the finer pointing in people.
But even Hunter had fallen silent on the subject, at least for now. Knowing him, he would decide he had a professional obligation to report what I’d told him about Patti, but it wouldn’t begin or end with the chief. Hunter would backdoor it through his own department.
Then Johnny Jay would come looking for me. I couldn’t shake that man no matter what.
Right before lunch, my mother showed up, but I’d known she was coming. Without talking to me first, Carrie Ann had put her back on the schedule. Which should’ve made me mad, but it was a good decision on Carrie Ann’s part. Mom and I exchanged pleasantries, making me think she’d decided to give me at least the same courtesy she extended to people she didn’t know. Progress—I think.
Then I took off for Holly’s house.
When I pulled up, Johnny Jay was just leaving.
“The noose is tightening,” he said. “I have an entire jail block in reserve for your family.” He smirked before driving off. Johnny Jay needed serious counseling to get past whatever he had against me. It was clouding his judgment. The guy has always been a bully and a jerk, everybody in town knows that, but the excess attention he spends on trying to bring me down isn’t healthy. For either of us.
Holly, Max, Gil, and Camilla were all congregated around an outside table covered with delectable dishes, thanks to Milly. I saw Effie out in the rose garden, wearing some kind of netting all over her body.
“Chance must not have eliminated the spider threat,” I said to my sister.
“No!” she said. “Effie says they’re still all over the place. Chance doesn’t want to spray chemicals, so they have to handpick the spiders wearing thick gloves or try to squash them underfoot, and now more are hatching.” Holly shivered at the thought of creepy-crawly critters.
“What was the police chief up to?” I asked after pulling her aside. Camilla hadn’t even acknowledged my existence, but Gil gave me a big smile and wave.
“Asking a whole lot of questions, the same ones everybody already answered, but this time around a few more details came out.”
Darn! If only I’d been a little earlier, I might have learned a lot more from Gil and Camilla’s official statements. “Anything revealing?”
“Well, it’s no secret that Gil and Camilla had a hard time putting up with Nova, but that’s sort of beside the point.”
“Why’s that?”
“They both have ironclad alibis for the entire period of time the chief asked about.”
That certainly surprised me.
“Go on,” I said.
Holly leaned in and whispered, “They were together. In Gil’s room. And they weren’t one bit embarrassed about it, blurted it out right in front of Max and me when they could have kept it private between them and the chief.”
Now that she mentioned it, I remembered Gil and Camilla looking a bit cozy together during dinner at Holly’s. Except . . . “Camilla was out on one of your ATVs that morning,” I said. “I saw her myself. Has everybody forgotten that?”
“That was earlier in the morning. The chief only asked about our whereabouts between eleven a.m. and leaving together for your house.”
“And those two were in bed together then?!”
“Actually they have much better alibis than I do,” Holly said grimly. “Nobody can back me up. Or Max. We both were off alone. Max was in his office and I was hiding out in my own room.”
“Somebody’s lying. I think Camilla did it.”
Holly shook her head. “The chief seemed satisfied with their story.”
“So neither of them had an opportunity to add poison to the juice?”
“Apparently.”
Rats! There went my pet theory. I sighed and thought about the new information. And came up with another idea—Camilla and Gil were in on it together! They could’ve been in bed together in more ways than one. Camilla could have been out selecting the perfect poison while Gil arranged their alibis.
All I had to do was prove it. I’d keep it to myself for the time being.
Holly clutched my arm. “Johnny Jay told me his noose is tightening around my neck. I can actually feel it. He wasn’t at all nice to me. What am I going to do?”
“Relax,” I told her. “He threatened me with the same noose. In th
e end, justice will prevail.” Which I didn’t believe for one second. I’ve been on a jury during a trial and seen firsthand how random “justice” actually works. But I had to say something to reassure her.
My sister forgot all about her own problems when I told her about the Harry Bruno, Nova, and Patti triangle.
“Nova and Patti, married to the same guy? That Patti is such a mystery woman,” Holly said when I finished. “Do you believe her?”
“She said Nova was dead by the time she got to her. If Nova had drowned, Patti would be suspect number one. But poison? That was premeditated, and Patti claims she didn’t identify Nova as Harry’s second wife until she showed up in my yard. Patti didn’t have time to arrange to murder her with poison.”
“Passion is a strong motive.”
“She didn’t do it,” I said, firmly.
I sure hoped I was right.
Nineteen
When we rejoined the others, talk around the lunch table had to do with the police chief’s visit, their orders not to leave town, and whether Johnny Jay really suspected any of them.
I slid into a chair next to Max and kept quiet as a mouse, but listened like an owl.
This whole thing was starting to remind me of one of my favorite board games, Clue.
Holly and Max’s house is a lot like the layout of the original board. A millionaire’s mansion with a library, billiard room, conservatory, the works. Except we already had a pretty good idea where it happened (or at least began)—in the bedroom, on the nightstand where the juice glass had been found, then on into my backyard. And the murder weapon wasn’t a lead pipe or candlestick. It wasn’t even a revolver. It was poison, which I didn’t remember being an option in the game.
The only question left was who did it? Ms. Scarlett (aka Camilla)? Or Colonel Mustard (Gil)? Or both of them working as a team?