by Nic Saint
“I see you’re hard at work again.”
I looked up and found myself gazing into the twinkling eyes of Rock Walker. “Gah, you scared me,” I said, placing a hand on my violently beating heart.
“This watch business is tough work,” he said, that amused twinkle still in his eyes.
“You better believe it.”
“Looks like your person of interest is also my person of interest.”
I frowned. “What do you want with Sheena?”
“Not the dog. Its owner.”
Mrs. Evergreen, who’d spotted us both, turned around and walked up to us, looking slightly flustered, yanking Sheena behind her on the leash. “Alice Whitehouse,” she snapped. “Each time I turn around, there you are. I’m starting to think you’re stalking me.”
“I think Alice has developed a crush on your dog, Mrs. Evergreen,” Rock said.
“I just want to make sure the streets of this town are clean,” I said. “And that dog,” I added, pointing an accusing finger at Sheena, “is a menace to public health and safety.”
Mrs. Evergreen brought out her poo bags and held them up defiantly. “I’m following all the rules, Officer…”
“Walker. Detective Rock Walker.”
“This following me around Alice and her cohorts are doing is bordering on harassment, Detective Walker,” Mrs. Evergreen said. “If they keep this up I’ll have no choice but to press charges.”
“That’s rich!” I exclaimed. “You’re pressing charges? I’m pressing charges!”
“Let’s all calm down,” Rock suggested, sounding like a traffic cop now. “The reason I’m here is because I wanted to ask you a few questions, Mrs. Evergreen.”
“She knows she should pick up after Sheena but she blatantly refuses,” I said.
“I’m not here to talk about dog poo,” Rock said.
I stared at him. “You’re not?”
“No, I’m not. No matter how fascinating the subject might appear to you, there are more important matters to discuss right now.”
“Like what?”
“Like Gemma Weston.”
“How refreshing,” Mrs. Evergreen said. “So what do you want to know about Gemma, Officer?”
Rock had taken me by surprise. For one thing, I had no idea Mrs. Evergreen even knew Gemma. And for another, was he actually going to interview a witness in connection with his murder investigation with me present? That was a new development.
He turned to the old lady, whose dog was straining at the leash. She was probably wondering what the holdup was.
“I assume you know that Miss Weston was found murdered two nights ago?”
“Of course I know. Everybody does.”
“You were supposed to have dinner at Miss Weston’s house that night?”
“Me and the other members of the Historical Society, yes.”
“So what happened?”
“What happened was that she wasn’t home. Or at least she didn’t answer the door.”
“So what did you do?”
“Nothing. We figured she’d forgotten all about the dinner and had gone out. So we left. It was only later that we discovered she’d been murdered.” She shivered. “For all I know the killer was right there when we rang the doorbell. Imagine that.”
Rock gave me a meaningful look. The killer probably was there when Mrs. Evergreen rang the doorbell.
“Did you notice anything suspicious? Anyone lurking about?”
“Nothing. If I had, I would have told the police immediately.” She directed a scathing look at me. “That meddlesome watch committee of yours isn’t the only association concerned with the safety of our citizenry, you know. The Historical Society takes the wellbeing of Happy Baysians as much to heart as you do.”
“Sure you do. By smearing our streets with noxious substances.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Prove it.”
I glared at her. “Oh, don’t worry. I will.”
Rock sighed. “Can we focus on the case at hand, please, ladies? Do you have any idea who might have wanted to cause Gemma harm, Mrs. Evergreen?”
The old lady touched her index finger to her lips pensively. “You know? Gemma was the newest member of our society, and in the short time she was with us, she hadn’t exactly made herself popular.”
“What do you mean?”
“Gemma Weston had very specific ideas of what a historical society should concern itself with. She didn’t like the way we were doing things—the way we had been doing things for the last forty years. She wanted to make changes. She was very vocal about it.”
“What changes?”
“For one thing, she wanted us to organize a website. A website, if you please!”
Mrs. Evergreen looked positively horrified.
“What’s wrong with a website?” I asked.
She pressed her lips together and gave Sheena’s leash an annoyed yank. “We don’t go in for all that newfangled nonsense. The Happy Bays Historical Society has been doing things a certain way for the past four decades and we’re not about to change just because some uppity teenager wants to turn us into the latest branch of MTV.”
“Gemma was hardly a teenager, Mrs. Evergreen,” Rock said. “She was—”
“Exactly my age,” I said, with a hard look at the old lady.
“Well, if the shoe fits,” Mrs. Evergreen said with a shrug. “Our leader wasn’t too happy about her ideas. In fact, at our last meeting, when she suggested she take over the organization of the annual Fourth of July public reading of the Declaration of Independence, he practically accused her of an act of usurpation.”
“Who’s your leader?” Rock asked.
“Edsel Pagan. You can imagine he wasn’t too well pleased with Gemma.”
“So Mr. Pagan thought she was trying to take control of the society?”
“Yes, he was, and I think he was right. In fact the other night we were going to take a vote on Gemma’s role in the society.”
“A vote?” I asked.
She gave me a meaningful look. “We were going to kick her out.”
Chapter 9
While Mrs. Evergreen went on her merry way, finally taking an ecstatic Sheena on her walk, Rock and I stayed behind to discuss the case.
“We have to interview Edsel,” I told him.
“We?”
“Well, you know what I mean.”
“I don’t think I do. Why don’t I interview Edsel, and you don’t.”
“Because I’m as involved in this as you are.”
“Do I need to remind you that—”
“This is a police investigation and since I’m not a cop I’m not invited to the party? No, you don’t have to remind me, Rock. I think you’ve made your point abundantly clear. And I think I’ve made it abundantly clear I don’t give a hoot what you or my dad think. I’m going to catch Gemma’s killer, with or without your help.”
“Wow. That was quite a speech.”
“I’ve been saving up.”
“I can tell.” He thought for a moment, then finally said, “Tell you what. I’m going to turn a blind eye on your meddlesome ways for now.”
“Seeing as you can’t stop me anyway.”
“Short of arresting you for interfering with an ongoing investigation, no, it doesn’t look like I can stop you.”
“Since I’m my father’s daughter you can’t arrest me, you mean.”
He gave me a wry smile. “Good point. I hadn’t thought about that.”
“So we’re interviewing Edsel?”
He uttered the sigh of a long-suffering man. “God, I never thought I’d say this, but yes, we’re interviewing Edsel Pagan to find out what he knows.”
“It’s obvious he had motive to kill Gemma,” I pointed out.
“Now all we need to establish is whether he also had opportunity. What do you know about this Edsel?”
“He’s a crackpot,” Gemma said, suddenly appearing out of thin air. “And so are the other members of
the Historical Society. Did you hear what that stupid old woman just called me? An uppity teenager? How dare she!”
I tried to ignore Gemma as best I could, which wasn’t easy, as she wasn’t the kind of woman who liked to be ignored.
“Um, not much,” I said. “He and his society organize bus tours to visit all the historically significant places, like Hartford Manor and Mulcock Towers. They also organize lectures and have devoted a small wing of the library to showcase their collection of donated items and artifacts. He’s an elderly gentleman.”
“He’s a fossil!” Gemma cried, stomping her foot again. “So they were going to kick me out, huh? And after I cooked them a feast! I bought a freakin’ duck!”
“Uh-huh,” I said. I swallowed, for Rock was starting to look at me funnily.
“Why don’t I set up the interview and pick you up?” Rock suggested.
“Great idea,” I said, wanting this conversation to be over. I couldn’t risk Rock finding out I was talking to Gemma’s ghost at the same time I was talking to him.
“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Gemma asked suddenly, shifting her attention from the Historical Society to Rock. “Isn’t he the cop that was snooping around my backyard?”
“He’s—you’re the cop investigating Gemma’s murder, Detective Rock Walker.”
Rock arched his eyebrows. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“Well, I think he’s doing a great job. With a face like that, he’s bound to figure out who killed me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, her comment sparking a sudden and very unexpected surge of jealousy.
“That I’m glad you remember who’s in charge of this investigation,” Rock said, looking puzzled.
“A face like that opens doors, Alice,” Gemma explained. “If a hunky cop like Rock showed up on my doorstep asking me a bunch of questions I’d answer them and then invite him in and offer to bear his babies.” She laughed at her own joke.
I wasn’t laughing. I didn’t think her sudden interest in Rock was funny. Nor did I think feeling jealous was funny, either. Jealous of a ghost? Over Rock, a guy I barely knew? Come on, Alice, snap out of it, I told myself.
“Yes, you’re in charge,” I told Rock. “And yes, we’re going to find your killer,” I told Gemma. “I mean, Gemma’s killer,” I quickly corrected myself.
Rock shook his head. “I think you need a break, Alice. You’re starting to repeat yourself. Why don’t I call you once I’ve set up the interview? Deal?”
“Deal,” Gemma said, and tried to high-five Rock. Her hand went straight through his face, though, which was a very awkward sight.
I grimaced, then managed to force a smile and said, a little huskily, “Deal.”
Rock stalked off towards his squad car and both Gemma and I stared after him.
“He’s got a really nice patootie,” Gemma said in a low voice.
I sighed. “Yes, he sure does.”
Rock turned and gave me a quizzical look. “Did you say something?”
“No,” I said, giving him an awkward wave. “I’m fine. See you later.”
“Later,” he said, languidly slipping into his car and driving off.
“Too bad I’m dead,” Gemma said. “I could have gone for that.”
I gritted my teeth but didn’t speak. This case was wearing me out.
I set foot for the mortuary, as I didn’t want to be late for work, and I’d just rounded the corner when I stepped into a very big, very wet pile of dog poop. It was still smoking.
“For crying out loud!” I yelled, shaking my fists at the sky. I knew just who this doo belonged to.
Just then, Mabel’s red Mini came zooming down the street and parked right next to me. She took one look at my soiled sneaker and shook her head disapprovingly. “We need to catch that woman. She’s getting out of control.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said, scraping off the worst parts on the storm drain.
She showed me something that looked like a pair of elaborate goggles. “Night vision goggles,” she said. “In case we need to catch her at night.” She switched a button and the goggles powered up with a distinct whine. It looked like Mabel was even more motivated to catch Sheena in the act than I was. If that was even possible.
Mabel drove on, to take up the next shift, and I walked off, intermittently stopping at clumps of grass peeking between cracks in the pavement to remove more poo from my shoe. I was sure Mrs. Evergreen had done it on purpose, knowing exactly where I would step. Well, that was just ridiculous, of course, but it sure felt that way to me right now.
Chapter 10
When I got home that night, I was beat. Between working my regular job, hunting down a killer, and trying to take down Mrs. Evergreen, I was starting to get the feeling I was in way over my head here. Fee, home early from the bakery, had already started preparing dinner. It was just going to be her and Rick, as Mom had called to tell me I was expected for dinner at my parents’ place.
Oh, goodie. I couldn’t wait to rub my dad’s face in his deceitful ways. And I didn’t care that Mom was there. Maybe she was in on this conspiracy, too.
I dragged myself through the door and into the living room.
“Honey, I’m home!” I called out.
Fee’s head popped out of the kitchen and her brows knitted when she caught sight of me. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks. That’s just what I needed to hear.”
“No, but are you sure you’re all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I did. Several times.” I checked around. “For all I know she followed me home.”
“Nope. Gemma isn’t here. Unless she managed to make herself invisible.”
“What happened to ghosts sticking to the place where they died?”
“I guess Gemma doesn’t know about that rule.”
“Gemma does whatever she pleases,” I grumbled, and told Fee about my hellish day. When I got to the part about my dad purposefully sabotaging my career, she gasped and clasped a hand to her face, totally forgetting she was holding a spoon of cream and splashing it across her face.
She wiped it off absentmindedly. “Oh, no, he didn’t.”
“Oh, yes, he did,” I said bitterly, plunking myself down on the couch.
“You need to have a long talk with your dad.”
“Oh, trust me. I will.”
I took off my sneakers and studied the soiled one. At the funeral home I’d already applied some of my uncle’s more powerful cleaning solutions to remove the yucky stuff, but when I sniffed I could still smell they hadn’t completely done the job. And they were my favorite sneakers, too. My Scooby Doo ones. The ones I like to wear when I’m sleuthing, since I think some of Scooby’s powers will rub off on me. The only thing that had rubbed off on me was Sheena doo, not Scooby Doo.
“Did you hear from Mabel?” I asked.
“Nope. I’m sure she’ll catch Mrs. Evergreen in the act.”
“I’m sure she won’t. That old lady is smart as a fox.”
“I don’t get why she does it. Is it really so hard to clean up after your dog?”
“Apparently it is for some people.”
“There should be a law against it.”
“There is a law against it, Fee. Which is what we’re trying to impose.”
“Oh. Right.”
Gaston, our trusty cat, came waddling up to me and rubbed himself against my leg. Then he started sniffing at my shoe. “Yup. That’s exactly what you think it is,” I told him when he looked up and eyed me accusingly. He then gave a plaintive meow and stalked off, tail high. Apparently he wasn’t happy with what I’d brought into his house either.
The door swung open and Rick walked in. “Hey, Alice.” He walked through to the kitchen and pressed a kiss to Fee’s lips. “Hey, honey. Yum, smells good in here.”
“I smell good,” Fee corrected him.
He gave her a sly smile. “Yes, you do.”
I watched the d
isplay of affection with a pang of jealousy. No matter how hard I tried to deny it, I wanted me some of that good stuff. And before I could stop myself, I found my thoughts wandering back to Rock Walker. Crazy. I’d only known the cop for two days and already I was ready to play house with him. No way.
“I saw Rock today,” Rick informed me, dropping down on the next couch and throwing a crumpled copy of the New York Chronicle onto the coffee table.
“Hey, guess what, so did I,” I said, sounding more sarcastic than I’d intended.
He studied me for a moment. “Is it safe to assume you and the new denizen of the Happy Bays Police Department don’t see eye to eye?”
“You guessed right.”
“Alice and Rock made a truce today,” Fee said, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “They’re going to be working together from now on. But don’t tell her dad.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” Rick said. “So how did this auspicious occasion come about?”
I shrugged. “Necessity, I guess. Looks like he needs me as much as I need him.” Oops. That didn’t come out right.
Rick grinned. “Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. Rick has a way of using four-letter words. It’s the reporter in him, I guess.
“It means that you like Detective Walker a lot more than you like to let on.”
“I don’t even know Detective Walker, so how can I like him?”
“Oh, I think you like him just fine,” Fee said, siding with Rick. She’d seated herself on the arm of the couch next to her boyfriend and they were both giving me looks of bemusement. I didn’t like it when they started playing matchmaker.
“Rock seems like a nice enough guy,” I began.
“But…” Rick prompted.
“But he’s a cop, so basically he’s a flawed human being.”
“Ouch,” said Fee. “And that from the woman whose life dream is to become a cop.”
“Cops, especially detectives like Rock, don’t make great boyfriend material, that’s all I’m saying. They become so obsessed with their cases that they forget they have a home life to return to. As a consequence, they become moody, obnoxious and turn into nasty and annoying drunks. I’ve seen it happen.”