Candy returned carrying a thick ledger and plopped it down on top of the counter. She paged through it, scanning lines of names and numbers. “Here we go,” she said, and pressed her finger to a row. “These are the sales I made for the last few weeks leading up to the murder.”
“You don’t keep electronic files?” I asked.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I don’t like computers. Never have trusted them. My sister’s an author and she told me that she once lost an entire manuscript because her file thingy didn’t back up properly. No thank you.”
“Right.” I leaned in. “You were saying?”
“I’ve only made a few sales in the past week. I’ll read them out to you,” she said. “Glock 43, purchased by Nelly Boggs and Mark Donovan. Smith and Wesson—”
“Whoa, whoa, wait, can you repeat that, please?”
“Sure.” Candy cleared her throat. “Glock 43, purchased by Nelly Boggs and Mark Donovan. They’re a couple, came in here smiling and holding hands like they were buying an engagement ring instead of a nine mill.”
I exchanged a glance with Grizzy.
“Any other names?”
“Mmm, yeah.” She rattled them off, but none of them rang a bell or, if they did, they belonged to folks we knew were serious about home security, like Mrs. Immelmann across the street. I could easily take the short list and run through alibis. I noted the names down, but two stuck in the forefront of my mind.
Nelly and Donovan. Why would they have bought a gun and so soon before Martha’s death?
This only compounded my suspicion that Nelly might have worked with someone else.
“Anything else you need from me, just holler,” Candy said. “I’m happy to do favors for upstanding Sleepy Creekers like you, Miss Watson. You helped bring justice to Franny’s killer. I’m eternally grateful for that. She went to high school with me, you know. Great girl.”
We thanked Candy and walked through the store and toward the exit. She buzzed us out.
I stepped onto the sidewalk and nearly ran over a pole of a man, wearing a wispy mustache and a glittering gold watch.
He stumbled. “Oh my!”
“Sorry,” I called out, and caught his arms. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Learn to watch where you’re going.” He ripped himself free of me and marched off down the street, grunting and growling under his breath.
“Is it just me, or are the folks in Sleepy Creek getting friendlier?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about Mr. Huxley, Chris. He’s always been a crotchety old dude,” Grizzy said.
“Mr. Huxley? Wait, that’s Janine’s father?”
“Yeah, why?”
“No reason.” But I watched the elderly gentleman turn the corner and stride out of sight. Janine’s dad. Could he have been connected to the crime somehow? Or was I just grasping at straws here, after all, there was no evidence that Janine was involved, either.
Besides, I had more important matters to take care off, now. Namely, the fact that Nelly had had a gun and hadn’t disclosed that information to me. If she’d been serious about me investigating, that was important.
Why would she have hidden it from me? Surely, she had to realize that her owning a firearm would make her suspicious, given that she’d benefitted directly from Martha’s death.
“Chris?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re staring into space again.” Grizzy waved her hand in front of my face. “What’s up?”
“I need to talk to Nelly.”
“It will have to wait until after your shift at the restaurant,” Grizzy said, and checked her watch. “If we don’t get back soon, poor Hedy and Martin will be overrun by customers. Look, it’s almost time for the lunch rush.”
“Duly noted.” I followed Griz toward the Burger Bar. Not even burgers could dampen my desire to get to the bottom of it.
The closer I got to the truth, the clearer the picture became, and it was starting to look a lot like the doe-eyed florist, Nelly.
9
After the lunch rush, I excused myself from the restaurant to snack on one of the Breakfast Burgers Jarvis had whipped up. Ironically, we served it at all hours of the day. It was a stroke of marketing genius on Grizzy’s part, and a taste explosion on the chef’s.
I seated myself on a bench outside the restaurant and bit into my burger. The flavors and textures combined, perfectly. The savory of the meat, the creaminess of the egg yolk, and the crisp tartness of the fresh sliced tomato.
I shut my eyes and relished the moment, cars humming by in Main Street.
The lunch rush had been so busy, I’d barely had time to contemplate the gun purchase. Or the fact that Nelly hadn’t introduced us to her boyfriend. Was there a reason for that? Perhaps, a choice to hide him from her friends?
Friends.
I’d always been fascinated by the mindset of a killer. Sure, there was passion and rage and jealousy, but how could someone lack so much empathy they could take another’s life? Could kind little Nelly really have done that to her own mother? Granted, the mother who abandoned her as a child?
Anything’s possible.
I’d learned as much in Boston and Sleepy Creek.
I opened my eyes and took another bite of my burger, my taste buds transported to heaven, but my gaze fixed on the florist’s shop across the street. It was open, and I could barely make out the silhouette of Nelly behind the counter.
I’ve got to do it now. Get it out of the way. If she cares about finding out who killed her mother, she won’t take offense.
A man, tall and broad-shouldered, with ginger hair, strode down the sidewalk opposite. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his jeans, and he whistled a tune, loudly. He stopped in front of the florist’s, slicked his hair back then entered.
I put my burger in its box, lifted my napkin and dabbed.
Now, who was that?
I’d stayed in Sleepy Creek a while, and sure, I didn’t know everyone, but I’d gotten used to the faces around here, and I’d never seen this guy around. Could he be the guy Nelly was dating? And if so, what on earth was he so happy about?
I closed my box, got up, and hurried across the street. I’d been meaning to speak to Nelly about what had happened, and now seemed the perfect time. Especially if it got me a glimpse into who the boyfriend was.
The bell above the door tinkled as I entered the shop.
Nelly leaned over the counter, her palms tucked beneath her chin, making eyes at the new guy. He grinned at her in turn.
“Hi,” I said.
“Oh, Christie!” Nelly straightened, a dreamy smile on her face.
The guy turned toward me. Freckles across his nose up close, ice blue eyes, and stubble along his chin. He stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you. Nelly’s told me about you and your friend Griselda. Name’s Donovan. Donovan Marks.”
I shook his hand. “You already know my name,” I said.
“Sure do. Your reputation precedes you in this town. The big Boston detective.”
“Sure. Without the ‘big’ part.”
Nelly laughed, a sound that was nothing like her normal chuckle. She kept staring at Donovan like he was Santa Claus or something. Or a magical fairy that would grant her a wish.
Maybe I was being cynical, but I’d never felt like that about anyone before.
“You work at the Burger Bar, yeah?” Donovan asked.
He had a strange accent I couldn’t quite place, like a mixture of different places. I didn’t like that—I was usually pretty good at identifying people and their habits, but this guy was neat. No ketchup stains or wrinkles. As far as I could tell, he cared about his appearance, and that was it.
“Yeah,” I said, slowly, gesturing with the box in my hand. “I’m on my lunch break. Thought I’d come by for a chat with Nelly.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Nelly said. “I’m always happy to chat, but I did want to spend some time with Donovan.”
�
��That’s OK.” The boyfriend waved a hand. “I’ve got the whole day free, Nels. I can hang around for a while.” He glanced at me. “See, I moved to town a week ago. I’m living next door to you, actually, on the right side?”
“Huh?” I blinked. We had Ray Tolentino on the right, depending on which way you looked at it.
“Or the left. Ha, depending on which way you look at it.”
Creepy. “I had no idea anyone had moved out,” I said. But then, I was mostly at the Burger Bar or walking Curly Fries or chatting with the terrible twins. “Welcome to the neighborhood, I guess.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
That made this even more awkward. I cleared my throat. “Nelly, perhaps it would be best if I spoke to you in private. I have a question for you, regarding… Martha.”
“It’s fine, Chris. Anything you need to say, you can say in front of Donovan. I tell him everything.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him. He rounded the counter and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
I wasn’t the most professional waitress in town, but I did draw the line at public displays of affection. It seemed inappropriate. I hadn’t found the reason for that type of thing yet. I couldn’t picture any circumstances under which I’d cuddle Liam in public.
Don’t you dare think about him now. Focus. The gun.
“Why didn’t you tell me you bought a gun a week before your mother was shot?” Boy, I’d never been good at mincing my words. “You want me to check out what’s going on around town, but you omitted information. Why?”
Nelly grew pale. Donovan blinked as if he couldn’t quite register what I’d asked.
“Well?”
“I—It was a gift,” Nelly said. “Donovan was worried about me living in Sleepy Creek, what with all the murders going on, so he bought me the gun as a gift. Are you accusing me of something?”
“Everyone’s a suspect,” I replied. “I have to follow the leads. You realize how suspicious this looks. You two buying a weapon together, Martha dying, and you being the benefactor of the estate.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Nelly’s eyebrows drew downward. “I didn’t. I didn’t even have the gun with me on the day of the—I don’t know how it wound up being used by the killer.”
My eyebrows lifted. “Your gun is the murder weapon.”
“I think it’s time you leave,” Donovan said.
Nelly hugged Donovan and buried her face in his shirt, her shoulders shaking.
“Now. And don’t come back.”
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll leave. But you can bet that I will get to the bottom of this. That’s what Nelly asked me to do, and that’s what’s going to happen.” I didn’t like that I’d hurt Nelly’s feelings, but she hadn’t been honest with me from the start.
I left the florist’s and, possibly, my friendship with Nelly behind, frustration and guilt gathering in my gut.
10
Grizzy had taken the late shift at the Burger Bar, and I had the evening to myself to mull over the murder weapon, Nelly, and my new next door neighbor. The mind boggled at how he’d sneaked in under the radar, but there it was.
I stood in the living room, the curtains on the side window drawn back, and watched the fence that separated Grizzy’s home from the one next door. The lights were on, but I couldn’t make out any movement.
“Hmmm.” What if Donovan and Nelly had acted as accomplices to take down Martha?
It seemed unthinkable. Nelly had been nothing but a sweetheart since I’d first moved to Sleepy Creek, but then, she might have been acting all along. Involved in the murders. What if she was a Spider?
“Now, you’re being ridiculous.” I took a breath and let the curtain fall back into place. “Maybe the pressure of this is getting to me. Am I losing my touch?” I was talking to myself again. So that had to mean something.
I turned and found Curly Fries seated directly in my path to the kitchen, her yellow eyes ghoulish among the black fur.
“What?” I asked.
She meowed and flicked her tail.
“You had better not be asking me for food. It’s still fifteen minutes until feeding time,” I said. “You know the rules, cat. I feed you early, Grizzy gets angry with me, and we both have to go on an extra walk tomorrow. Play fair.”
She meowed again.
“It’s for your own good. Look at you. You’re already getting slimmer and healthier.” This was partly because we’d taken a plate of cookies over to Mrs. Immelmann across the road and begged her to stop feeding Curly.
She’d called us two days ago and let us know that Curly had thrown the cat version of a tantrum upon realizing that Mrs. Immelmann wouldn’t feed her anymore. She’d scratched up her window sill, gone number two in the flower bed, and killed a bird in protest.
“Sometimes, I think you’re too smart for your own good,” I said.
Curly gave a low growl.
I ignored it and walked past, heading for the kitchen. She batted my legs then followed me, a purr starting up in her kitty throat.
“Is that what you think?” She wound between my ankles. “It’s still not time. See?” I pointed to the clock above the counter.
I set about making coffee, occasionally tripping over Curly, muttering under my breath.
The murder weapon belonged to Nelly. Yet they hadn’t arrested her. They would know it was hers, and that meant they didn’t have enough evidence to put her away. Perhaps, Nelly had had a solid alibi leading up to the moment when she was struck over the head? Or they had no fingerprints. It could be, that Nelly’s gun had been kept in a safe at the mansion, and that—
A knock rattled the front door, and I paused, holding my mug. It was upside down. Whoever the visitor was, they’d saved me from pouring coffee onto the bottom of my cup rather than into it.
Another volley of banging knocks.
“Just a moment!” I called out, and put my cup down the right way up.
Curly meowed, but stayed put.
I headed to the front door and opened it.
Liam stood on the doorstep wearing his uniform and a frown.
“Uh oh,” I said.
“Uh oh, indeed. May I come in?”
“Of course.” I led him through to the kitchen, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Can I get you something to eat? A cup of coffee?”
“Coffee’s fine,” he said. “Thanks.’
I poured two mugs, brought them to the table, and set out the cream and sugar.
Liam accepted the coffee but didn’t take a sip. “Why did you accuse Nelly Boggs of murder this afternoon?”
“I didn’t,” I replied. “I merely asked why she hadn’t told me that she had bought a gun a week before her mother was shot.”
Liam groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, Christie.”
“What? I know I’m not the best with, uh, emotional conversations, but it seemed the appropriate thing to ask.”
“Firstly, no, that’s not appropriate at all. And secondly, you aren’t supposed to be getting involved. You’re making this incredibly difficult for me. I’ve cut you a break several times, and now, things are even more complicated. We’ve been on a date together.”
I swallowed. “Hold on. Before you reprimand me for doing the wrong thing, you should know… Just wait here.” I got up and hurried through to the living room where I’d dropped my bag on the table. I withdrew the Kleenex from the side pocket and walked it over to Liam.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“A projectile I found at the crime scene.”
“What?!”
“Behind the piano, underneath the window sill. Clean shot through. I don’t know what that means for your case or why it wasn’t found during the initial sweep of the scene, but there it is. I’ve been meaning to give it to you.”
“Tell me you didn’t break into Nelly’s house to get this.”
I sighed. “We were invited over for dinner.”
Liam shut his eye
s. “That means there was more than one shot fired,” he said. “We’ll have to look at the scene again.”
“I found it and handed it in. That’s got to count for something.”
“It counts for you getting in a whole mess of trouble if you don’t back off. I’m done giving second chances, Christie. This is for your own good.”
“Look,” I said, and paused to take a sip of my coffee for strength and courage. “You and I both know that that’s never going to happen. I mentioned to you in the past that I’ll take the consequences that come. Liam, when I arrived in Sleepy Creek, I wanted to get back to Boston and keep my nose clean. Now, I want to figure out what’s going on here, even if that costs me my job or lands my in jail for interfering. I don’t expect you to do your job any different. I just… I’m trying to do the right thing.”
He didn’t say anything.
“And the fact is, this case reminds me of my mother’s in a way. Nelly’s mom died. She needs help solving it. And I guess I’m too over-enthusiastic.’
Liam turned his coffee mug in a circle on the kitchen table. “I don’t expect you to change who you are, Christie. Just don’t do anything illegal to get results. If you want to gossip or chat with people I won’t do anything to stop it, but I draw the line at removing evidence from a crime scene. I’m letting it slide, now, but next time, call me. Call me first.”
It was as good as permission as I could get from him. “Thank you,” I said.
“And I think it’s best if we don’t go on another date until after this case has been solved.”
“Agreed.”
Liam rose from the table. “Then I’ll get going. I’ve got to get this evidence back and check out the scene again. Though, at this point it’s clear the evidence may have been tampered with.” He gave me a quick smile, one that set free the butterflies in my belly, then left the kitchen. The door clicked shut a moment later.
And that was it. I had my suspicions, and all I could do now was poke and prod and hope I didn’t cross the line.
Curly Fries meowed at me from next to her kibble bowl.
The Breakfast Burger Murder Page 5