He waved back.
Well, that was a good sign … unless he waved at all the Peeping Toms in his yard.
Chapter Twenty-three
“Hi … Grady.”
“Erica.”
Turned out he wasn’t naked after all. He had his swim shorts on. “I, uh, didn’t know you were a knitter.” He was standing in the frame of his door, but I was keeping my distance on the lawn.
“Just taken it up recently.”
I looked down at my phone quickly. Spam text. Of course it was a spam text.
“My mother still runs that knitting group at the library.”
“Right,” I said. “I always thought I should maybe…” There wasn’t any point to finishing that thought.
“So,” he began, “you want to tell me why you were staring at me through my living room window?”
“I wasn’t … doing that,” I scoffed.
Grady held his stern sheriff’s expression.
“Fine, I was, but it was a total accident. I saw you knitting naked, well, not naked, and totally by accident, and I thought, Oh, I wonder if Grady is okay?” I said, nodding. “Because not a lot of sheriffs knit. Naked or otherwise.”
Nothing. Just the stare-down.
“I thought maybe something had happened.”
Grady raised his eyebrows. “Something had happened? Like what?”
“Like…” I flung a hand in the air. “Like maybe someone had died and you were knitting them … something. And then I thought maybe now’s not the right time to inter—”
Suddenly the strangest thing happened. A smile broke out across Grady’s face. Then he laughed. Hard. Like we’re talking almost guffaw territory.
“Um … Grady?”
He shook his head. “I haven’t seen you this embarrassed since…” He shook his head again. “Doesn’t matter. It’s okay. I’m sure it did look weird to see me knitting. Naked.” He smiled again at me, but this time it was no regular smile. Oh no. It was that smirk he always had on his face back in high school. That stupid smirk that always … made me want to jump him. Gah.
“Now what were you worried that this was a bad time for?”
I blinked. Suddenly I had no idea what it was I was doing here. It was a little like rehearsing a play for months—years—only to have the other character flip the script at the last minute … which was probably where that expression came from.
“I was just…”
He planted his hand on the frame of the door and twisted his shoulders side to side.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Stretching. I think I pulled a muscle wakeboarding the other day.” He twisted his shoulders again. “Lower back.”
My eyes darted down, got stuck there for a second, then jumped back up. “Well, stop it.”
“Stop stretching?”
“Yes,” I practically shouted.
He smirked again. “But I thought you liked to … watch?”
My jaw dropped. It dropped so hard I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to get it back up.
Grady laughed. “Sorry. Sorry. Just kidding. Now, you were going to tell me what brought you over here tonight?” He then chewed at the side of his thumbnail, which should have been gross but really just brought a lot of attention to his mouth, and a lot of my body parts were taking notice.
“Stop it!”
He dropped his hand. “I already stopped stretching.”
“Not the just the stretching, the chewing, and … all this,” I said, waving a hand out to him, mainly at his pectoral area. “You need to stop all of it.” I mean, it kind of seemed like he was flirting with me right now, and I wasn’t entirely sure why that was making me so angry, but it was.
Angry … and very, very confused.
Grady looked down at his chest. “I’m not really sure how to—”
“Hey, Grady!” a voice called out from behind me.
I jumped.
You have got to be kidding me.
I felt my shoulders tense. That had better not be who I thought that was.
“Hey, Freddie,” Grady called out. “Come on in.”
Come on …
Freddie brushed by me and up the steps to Grady’s house.
… in?
“What’s Erica doing here?” Freddie asked Grady.
He shrugged. “I’ve been trying to figure that out.”
“Me?” I asked, looking at Freddie. “What are you doing here?”
“I was invited. I called Grady to ask his advice about some permits for the wedding, and he invited me over for a beer to discuss it.”
My eyes snapped back to Grady’s. “You invited Freddie over?”
“I did,” he said with a nod. “Did you want to come in and join us for a—”
“No!”
“You don’t have to yell,” Freddie said. “She’s always yelling … and chasing people.”
I yelled some more in my head—gibberish-type sounds. My brain was broken. I could no longer form words.
“Well, if you don’t want to come in,” Grady said. “What can I do for you?”
“What the hell does that mean?”
This time there was no smirk, just Grady’s eyes darting side to side. “It doesn’t mean anything, I was just asking you again—”
“You know what?” I said, backing away from the steps. “I’m just going to go.”
“Are you sure?” Grady asked.
“And you,” I said with a point, “you need to get back to work.”
“I do?”
“Call Bigly.”
“Are you sure you don’t want—”
“She’s fine,” Freddie said, moving to close the door. “What do you have by way of a microbrew?”
Chapter Twenty-four
“And then Freddie said, What do you have by way of a microbrew?”
Rhonda laughed—then caught my expression and stopped. “You’re right. It’s not funny. But this is good news, right? You always wanted Freddie and Grady to get along.”
“Not without me!”
“These are strange times,” Rhonda said. “But on a more serious note, how is Candace doing?”
I thought my stuff was pretty serious, but not by comparison, I guess.
Once again Sheriff Bigly had promised Candace that they would look into it.
At least she had dropped Candace back to the retreat—hoping to have a word with me—but we had thankfully not crossed paths. She had also shown Candace the picture of Justin on Lyssa’s phone again. Candace was pretty sure that was the guy who had come crashing out of the shed. He had a distinctive spiky haircut.
I filled Rhonda in on all this then added, “Candace is staying at the retreat today because Joey’s finishing up some work on Mr. Garrett’s back porch.”
“That’s good,” Rhonda said. “So you made any headway on finding out what was in Lyssa’s bag?”
“Nope. I can’t think of a way to get that information that doesn’t involve me getting arrested.” I sighed. “You know, I’m starting to think it might have been a bit unrealistic for us to promise Candace we’d find Lyssa’s killer before the wedding.”
“What?” Rhonda snapped. “What kind of attitude is that?”
“A realistic one,” I said pretty miserably. “I mean, it’s not like I didn’t want to crack this case. For a whole bunch of reasons.” Candace. The town. Lyssa … especially for Lyssa. “But I just don’t think it’s going to happen.” I held my hand out. “Pass me the gummies.”
She pulled the candy bag away. “No way. These gummies aren’t for quitters.”
“But I bought them.” They were a peace offering for the missed lunch. “And I’m not saying I’m quitting. I’m just saying I may not be able to solve this in time for the wedding.” I waved my hand out some more. “Come on. It’s an emergency.”
“You have a gummy emergency?”
“I have licorice stuck in my teeth, and I was hoping if I ate some gummies, I could dislodge it.�
�
“Forget it. No gummies for you.”
“Rhonda…”
“You need to get hungry … for justice.”
I blinked at her.
“No, you listen to me,” she said, straightening herself up in her seat. “This situation doesn’t call for ‘sad sack Erica.’ It calls for ‘crazy, who knows what she’ll do next Erica.’”
I let my head loll to my side, so I could look out the window.
Rhonda whacked me on the thigh. Hard.
“Ow!”
“You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself this instant.”
I rubbed my thigh. “I’m not really feeling sorry for myself. I’m feeling sorry for Candace and—”
“Well, then it’s a good thing she’s got you on her side, isn’t it?”
I shot Rhonda a very skeptical look.
“Come on, you’re no mere mortal.”
That earned her an eyebrow raise.
“You’re Erica Doom,” she said, adding some serious gravity to the doom. “How many murderers have you helped bring to justice?”
“A handful.”
“A handful,” Rhonda repeated, mimicking my pouty voice. “That’s awesome! Where’s the Erica who somehow feels it’s her job to solve each and every crime that happens in Otter Lake?”
I sighed. “Maybe she’s on vacay with Grady.” I hoped they were having a good time. Maybe drinking maitais by the lake. Playing volleyball. Eating—
“Well, you get her back here and get her back out there!” Rhonda pointed out the window.
“Get her back out where?” I asked with a frown. I was getting confused referring to myself in the third person. “That’s the problem. I don’t know what to do. Lyssa’s not from Otter Lake. She has little to no social media pres—”
“So?” Rhonda asked, looking like she was close to smacking my leg again. “Follow up on all your leads. Go back and see Tommy. Ask about the shiner—you know, if you can get close enough to ask. Talk to Candace again. See if there’s anything else she remembers. Canvass the neighborhood. Nobody ever said investigating was easy.”
We sat in silence for a moment. I prodded at the piece of licorice stuck in my teeth until it gave way. “You know what? You’re right.”
“I know am right.”
“I’m going to do it,” I said with a nod. “There’s still time. I’m not giving up. I have to at least try.” No, I wasn’t about to sit back and do nothing while someone I cared about suffered. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to figure out what happened to Lyssa in time for the wedding, but trying was better than doing nothing.
“That’s the spirit. Oh! Here we go.” Rhonda tossed the gummy bag into my lap and whipped up her camera. Our target was walking across the lawn with another tree resting on his shoulder.
Now that “fix Erica time” was over, I was thinking it was time to address another situation. A Rhonda situation.
“Um … Rhonda?”
“What?” she asked, camera clicking furiously.
“I need to ask you something.”
“What is it? I’m trying to concentrate here.” I could tell. Rhonda always stuck her tongue out just a little bit at the corner of her mouth when she was really focused on something.
“Um…” I just needed to say it. “Why … why are you still here?”
“What do you mean?” She never took her eye from the target.
“You have enough photos,” I said. “We have enough photos. You have photos of him lifting trees. You have photos of him digging in the dirt. You even said you’ve got a couple of photos of him moving a boulder. You’ve built a case for the insurance company. He’s not hurt. I think it’s time to send those photos off and call it a day.”
Rhonda took a few more snaps then rested the camera on her lap. “I can’t. Not yet.”
“Why not?” I asked, studying the side of her face. She was refusing to make eye contact with me.
“It’s hard to explain,” she said, suddenly looking pained. “But something’s just not right about this whole situation. And I can’t leave until I figure out what it is.”
I frowned. “What do mean, something’s not right?”
She threw a hand out. “Like what is somebody with that much potential doing committing insurance fraud?”
I cocked my head at her. “Um, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that all you know about him? That he’s committing insurance fraud?”
She leaned back into her seat. “Oh no, you learn a lot about a person watching them hour after hour. He’s … he’s a good guy.”
“Really. And what is it exactly that leads you to believe he is a good guy?”
“Well, for one,” she said, straightening up and looking at me, “he tosses bits of food from his lunch to birds.”
“That’s it?”
“No, that’s not it,” she said with a frown. “But it is pretty adorable.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t cancel out insurance fraud. And it is possible he was just littering and the birds were there.”
“Nope.” She pointed out the windshield. “Look at how he is handling that tree.”
I took a quick look out the window. “I’m not sure I want to see how he handles … wood.”
She snatched her gummy bag back from my hands. “Don’t be disgusting.”
I chuckled. “I’m sorry. Can I have the bag back?”
“No.”
“Fine,” I said, throwing my head back against the seat. “Tell me how he handles the trees.”
“Look for yourself.”
I did. I did look for myself. I had no idea what I was supposed to be seeing though. “It’s a half-naked guy carrying a tree across the lawn. Why does he always have his shirt off?” For that matter, why did Grady always have his shirt off? It was very annoying.
“No, look at how careful he is with them. He never breaks a branch. He always digs the hole to just the right depth. Then he really gives them a good watering.” She let out a long, slow breath. “I’m willing to bet every one of them survives its first winter.”
“You’re starting to scare me.”
“What?” she asked, looking at me wide-eyed.
“Rhonda, he’s a target.”
“So…?”
“So?” I fired back. “I’m starting to think you’re falling for the target.”
She looked back out the front. “I am not.”
I dipped my chin into my chest and stared at her.
“I just … kind of want to talk to him before we turn him in.”
“What?” I said, swiveling against the passenger door so I could fully face her. “You can’t be serious. Freddie will lose his—”
“I know. I know,” she said, closing her eyes. “I won’t actually do it.” She sighed. “I was just thinking it would be nice if I could.”
I kept staring at her. “But you won’t.”
“I won’t.”
“Because you’d mess up any chance we’d ever have of working with an insurance company again.”
“I know,” she said miserably. “And I won’t, but I can’t let this go yet. I just know there is something more going on here, and I can’t leave until I know what it is. Besides, we want to impress the insurance company, so we need to be thorough.”
“I don’t know, Rhonda,” I said. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with—”
“And why is it you and Freddie always get to be the idiots when it comes to love?”
I sighed and slouched back in my seat. “Just lucky, I guess.”
* * *
Again, Rhonda was right. Not about our insurance scammer being a good guy, but about the fact that I needed to get back out there. And I knew just where to start.
The gazebo.
I still hadn’t checked out the crime scene since Bigly had scared me off, but it was about time I did. I doubted that I’d find anything there given that the police would have combed through it by now, but that wasn’t the point. I needed to follow every l
ead. Look under every rock. Explore every avenue … or dirt road that led to the gazebo, as the case may be, on Big Don’s nephew’s bike.
One never knew what surprises might lie around the bend.
What the…?
I skidded to a stop and leaned back onto the bicycle seat, my feet balancing me on either side.
This … this was a surprise.
I brought a hand to my brow in a vain attempt to deflect some of the sun bouncing off the lake. The gazebo was actually a beautiful sight. Someone had strewn white gauze all around the structure and it was rising and falling gently in the breeze. It must have been hung the day before the wedding—in fact, I could see one side of it sagging where it had lost its pinning—but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was, why was it still up? And why were all the plastic bins still there? And the chairs? It looked like the crime scene hadn’t been touched. In fact if it weren’t for the police tape fluttering around the gazebo railings, it would look like the sheriff’s department had never been there at all.
Huh.
Okay, well, yes, I had figured that Bigly would have to bring in a specialized crime scene investigation team, but shouldn’t they have come and gone already? What the heck was going on?
I glided down the bumpy walking path that led to the lake.
This made no sense. While my first impression of Bigly hadn’t exactly been a warm one, I didn’t get the feeling that she was incompetent.
There was something off about all this.
I stopped again right at the entrance to the gazebo. I couldn’t go down to the dock because the police tape clearly said DO NOT CROSS, but I didn’t need to, to see the supplies all neatly stacked and pushed to one side.
Freddie must be going nuts, not being able to get his hands on that stuff.
Yup, this was all very odd.
I scanned the shoreline on either side of the gazebo then turned to do a full three sixty. It was a beautiful spot and the trees blocked most of the view of the neighboring cottages, but—
Just then I caught sight of movement in the woods to my side.
I scanned the trees to pinpoint it.
There.
Somebody was there. They weren’t moving now. But they were definitely there.
And …
They were wearing a windbreaker. It was the same person I had seen outside of Candace’s!
Down the Aisle with Murder Page 13