by Louise Lynn
Oh, the irony!
“Ivy helped me bake those,” I told him, a smile tugging at my pressed lips.
“Your little sister has grown so much,” Dean said as we entered the front of the shop again. “Protective of you. And taller.”
“Urgh! Don’t remind me. It’s crazy how fast they grow. To me, she’ll always be my little baby sis.”
“The one who used to stretch her socks to pretend she had rabbit feet.”
I laughed at the memory, turning to look up at him. When he smiled, he appeared younger and his countenance changed. The lines around his eyes flattened, his gray eyes sparkled, and he looked like the Dean I had fallen in love with when we were inexperienced teenagers with raging hormones.
“Oh, Ivy… I never understood why she did that whenever you visited the house.”
“She was only eight at the time. I guess she found me handsome.”
“Or just inexplicably tall.”
“Detective Harper, I believe we are finished here?”
Dean cleared his throat and tore his gaze from me. On the countertop, the tub of cakes lay half-opened, and I saw that only one had been eaten.
“Give me a moment, Woods, then we can set off.”
Dean shot his colleague a brief nod of his head, but Detective Woods didn’t seem too pleased. I watched him slump through the door, then I turned to Dean, whose eyes were pressed on me. I parted my lips to say something, but my jaw clamped shut when Dean reached a hand toward my face. He wiped the side of my jaw with the tip of his thumb.
“You had a touch of frosting on your chin,” he said, hot breath fanning down my cheeks. “It was driving me nuts.”
“It was?” I breathed, trying to calm down my heart rate. “Those stupid frostings. I try to be careful, but I always manage to smudge it over my face. Or in my hair. Sometimes even on my butt. I mean… what?”
Dean smiled at me, then he glanced over his shoulder, and something dark eclipsed his features. His eyes locked on Detective Woods, who smoked a cigarette beside his car, watching the shop closely.
“I’d better go,” Dean said, turning back to face me. “How about a ride home? It’s dark out, Olive…”
I smiled at him. “Dean. I’m a big girl. Plus, I have some things to pick up on my way home. I’ll be okay.”
He paused, worrying his bottom lip, and then nodded. “I’ll be back to ask a few more questions, should we need it… and maybe some more tea and cakes.”
Wait, I almost blurted out, but I managed to suppress the plea by biting hard on my lips. He wasn’t there to visit me—he was there to investigate. Doing his job. My eyes followed him to the door, heartbeat mimicking his steady footsteps and the whoosh of his black trench coat.
Pausing at the door, Dean looked back and smiled. “And by the way? You look beautiful as always, Olive Darrow.”
I touched my matted hair and felt the heat rise to my cheeks.
And then he was gone.
The door closed behind him, the wind chime singing away, and my heart thudded so loudly in my chest I feared he could hear it pounding from outside.
I forced a hand against the cake display to steady myself. I had to calm down and control my emotions. Getting caught up in an old flame was the last thing I wanted.
Or needed.
Not to mention—I was now the suspect in a murder investigation!
Of one of my customers, no less, who had died in front of the whole town after visiting my shop.
My heart sank to my stomach as the weight of my guilt settled in.
Jenny Walker had been poisoned, potentially by my own tea, and I was one of the prime suspects.
I closed the Maritime Teashop for the second time that day. By that point, it was completely dark outside and a chilling breeze crept over my shoulders, carrying through the sapling trees that lined the empty sidewalks. Despite my exhaustion, I didn’t want to go home and face Mom and Ivy’s questioning about the detectives. And the grumbling inside my stomach seemed to agree with me.
I glanced around the street, at the various family run businesses and parked cars. The all-night diner, Benny’s, glittering in the distance steadied my gaze. Late-night waffles and ice-cream? Not my worst idea, that was for sure. I decided to grab something to eat before heading home. I needed space to think, and most of all, I needed to be on my own.
When I stepped into the diner, I saw Ivy’s best friend—Juno—mopping a spill from underneath a corner booth.
“Hey, Olivia. Fancy seeing you here!”
“Well, ice cream and waffles called on me. Got room for one?”
Juno surveyed the diner—Santa heads and neon tinsel had been slapped against the windows and around the booths—and her shocking white blonde hair swayed past her waist.
“Umm… I think I could squeeze you in.”
The diner was practically empty, and I could see only one person manning the kitchen, and two customers within sight; one squirting ketchup onto a basket of curly fries and the other sipping a straw from a glass of soda, cherry Coke from the pink tinge.
I chose to sit in one of the leather booths that were pressed against the glass wall. The fabric was a neon, sky-blue and squeaked against my jeans as I slipped toward the window. Outside, everything looked to be sleeping. Even the dead leaves, which drifted lazily through the night air, looked as though they were stumbling for a place to rest for the night.
“Would you like a drink or anything, Olivia?”
I looked up at Juno, who leaned against the edge of my booth, and noticed her navy polo-shirt had a generous amount of ketchup all over it. It was a stark comparison to how flawless her makeup was.
“Did you get into a fight with the ketchup?” I teased her.
Out of all Ivy’s friends, Juno had always been the sweetest, and I had known her since she was born. Her mother had gone to school with my own and they now practiced yoga together. Just like Ivy and Juno, they were best friends.
Juno’s cheeks reddened as she glanced down at her uniform. “Yeah, I know. One of the earlier customers had an issue with the bottle. He was three and thought it was hilarious.”
“Ouch, Juno. I’m sure he’ll learn, in time. It just takes—”
“Skill, according to Chef Burrito.” She indicated the slightly overweight chef, hard at work in the kitchen.
“Or a sharp kick in the pants,” I winked at her, “but don’t tell anyone I said that. It’s not customer friendly.”
Juno giggled. “Yup! Anyway, how’s about a drink?”
I scanned the menu and hovered over the narrow selection of milkshakes. “Strawberry milkshake. I might as well live a little.”
“Go large, that’s what I always say!”
Juno typed rapidly into her electronic pad, sending my order straight to the kitchen. When she tilted her head toward the menu above the registers, I saw that parts of her hair were sticky with ketchup and goodness knows what else. Perhaps Juno had been spending too much time with my sister. I smiled to myself. It was most likely.
“Shouldn’t take long,” she added, and then she grinned sheepishly. “Oh, and Happy Birthday. Ivy texted me. Speaking of which! The old woman who died today? I heard she just rolled over in the middle of the street and, well, she just died, man! The whole town’s talking about it.”
“I know. I can’t believe it either. I just hope they find out what happened to her, and soon.” I felt like that guy in a Tell-Tale Heart. I swore mine was beating loud enough for the whole diner to hear, but not out of guilt, out of fear.
Juno folded her arms against the booth and pouted her cherry-red lips. “Her husband must be sick with worry. Poor Matthew. He always comes in here in the mornings for a scrambled egg bagel.”
“He does?”
I hadn’t known that. I certainly hadn’t seen him about town in the mornings. In fact, I only ever saw him when I went to the library, which was infrequently.
“Yup. Every day. And, actually, he sometimes sits where you
are now, so he can watch the pigeons. He’s such a sweet old man. It was hard to believe he married Old Jenny. My granny says he deserves a medal for lasting as long as he did.”
“Hey! Juno! Get back to work,” the chef called from the kitchen, “and put a wet floor sign out for the drink that you spilled—again!”
Juno groaned and scrunched up her face. “My beloved life now calls to me,” she groused, raising her fist toward the ceiling. “Your food won’t be long. I’ll be back in a shake with your… milkshake.”
The kid couldn’t have looked smugger with her joke even if she tried.
“No worries.” I couldn’t suppress my smile. “Take your time, Juno.”
Once she had walked away, I leaned back into the booth and closed my eyes.
Do not think about Dean, do not think about Dean!
I focused hard on not reminiscing about my high school days, and instead, I relayed everything that had happened from that morning onward. There had to be some reasonable explanation for Jenny Walker’s death. Surprisingly, Maggie pouring tea over her wasn’t at the top of the list. But the old woman dying of poison not even an hour later certainly was. And then the police officer who questioned me, followed by the detectives.
If Jenny truly was poisoned, then who could have done it? I had her tea shipped out in bulks from Thailand, and had been using the new box for nearly two weeks already. So, how could the tea have been poisoned?
Unless someone had spiked it…
But the only people who’d been close to Jenny since she entered and left my shop, were me, Ivy, and Maggie. The rest of the customers had been scattered around the floor, tourists, and businessmen, mostly lining up for their morning refreshments. Sure, Jenny Walker wasn’t the most likable of characters, but I couldn’t wrap my head around that someone wanted her dead. And I certainly couldn’t believe that someone inside my shop had done it.
I made a mental list of the possible suspects, excluding myself.
Malachi had found Jenny Walker in the middle of the street. Surely I couldn't suspect him of killing her simply because he'd been the one to find her body? He was the sweetest boy in the whole town. Did he have a reason to kill Jenny?
I didn’t know, but he had shoved a piece of paper in his pocket, one that he obviously hadn’t wanted anyone else to see.
Mom? Well, yes, my mom had always despised Jenny—since before I was born. She had even frequently talked about slipping laxatives into her Friday morning tea. But never poison. I knew my mom, and she wasn’t capable of murder. Not to mention, Mom had visited the shop while Jenny was found dead. She did have a set of spare keys for the Maritime, but there was no way on earth my mom had plotted to kill someone.
My mind strayed toward Maggie White. She’d been the one to show aggression and spill tea over Jenny, in front of everyone. No. When it came down to it, Maggie didn’t have a bad bone in her. I had felt her rage, too, when Jenny targeted the otters. And while I felt Maggie capable of throwing tea into someone’s face, killing couldn’t possibly have been her intention. Otherwise, like Ivy had said about Mom, Jenny would’ve died long ago.
The mysterious, navy suit business guy? He’d been a little off with me from the get-go and seemed reluctant to even tell me his name. But he’d also been the last one to speak with Jenny before she died—and it had looked like an argument. If I was going to point a finger at anyone, it was at him.
Then why did the killer wait until now to strike? Obviously, fate had decided that Jenny’s time was up, but… poisoning her with my tea?
I opened my eyes again, and at that moment, the world seemed to lurch into action. Juno brought over my order, the front door burst opened, and I saw Ivy and Mom trudging inside with a gust of wind.
“We had a feeling you’d be here,” Mom said, sitting down across from me, and giving me the ‘mom’ look.
“How come?” I raised an eyebrow at her and took a sip of my milkshake.
As I gazed at her with unblinking eyes, I was pretty sure a halo hovered above me.
Ivy slumped down into the booth and stole a corner of my waffle, drizzled in hot maple syrup. “’Cause you always want ice cream when you’re sad. And you always come here when you’re even sadder.”
“So, I’m a walking cliché.” I dug deeper into my ice cream. Over a mouthful, I grumbled, “Great! Now everybody knows my weakness.”
Despite their unexpected appearance, warmth swelled inside of me. Hot tears pricked behind my eyes. I knew I was just exhausted—it had been a long day—but I was also humbled by the fact that they’d come looking for me.
Then I saw the cupcake in Mom’s hand, complete with a lit candle.
“Now, I know you don’t like birthdays, but we figured that everyone deserves to make a wish on their birthday.”
“You figure this every year, Mom.”
“No take backs!” Ivy said, pinching another slice of waffle. “You gotta make a wish. Darrow rule.”
With Ivy, Mom, and Juno at my side, I couldn’t possibly escape from them. And I still had a milkshake to finish.
Closing my eyes, I hovered over the candle, and I made my wish.
I want to find out who killed Jenny Walker.
When I opened my eyes, and gazed out the window, I could see the Maritime Teashop perfectly from where I sat.
Chapter Five
“But who could have killed her?” Ivy said as she bussed the table near the window, the one Jenny Walker always sat at.
A stain on the armchair was from the spilled tea the day before, and I knew I’d need some fabric cleaner to scrub it out.
“I don’t know, but we need to find out to clear our names,” I said and absently rubbed Buttercup’s ample belly. He rolled over and purred.
“Our names? I thought it was just you that…” Her voice trailed off when she noticed my glare. “Right. I work here too. Do they suspect Mom?”
I snorted. “Doubt it, but they should. We still don’t know that she’s not responsible.”
Ivy gave me a withering look and put her hands on her hips. “Mom would not kill Jenny Walker and let you take the fall for it.”
“Unless she didn’t know I’d take the fall for it. Maybe she passed Jenny on the street and threw a poison pearl into her tea?”
I knew it wasn’t true, at least, I hoped, but the list of people who really wanted to do Jenny Walker in was much too long.
“Okay, besides mom, who could have done it?” Ivy asked and leaned against the counter.
The morning rush was over, and even though it was a Saturday, Main Street was nearly deserted. I doubted it had anything to do with Jenny’s death. More likely, the whale watching tours weren’t back on shore yet.
“Well, we need to look at it objectively like they do on Law & Order. Who had a motive to kill Jenny Walker?”
Ivy stared at me. “Um, everyone? She was the worst old bag in town. She made me break out for a month when I was twelve, just because she could. She threw that weird dust into my face.”
I winced. She did the same to me but in high school. At the time, I thought Dean was going to break up with me because of it. He didn’t, but it was the sort of thing a teenage girl worries about. Thinking about him stung my chest. I shoved that thought aside. Clearing our names was more important.
“Yeah, but we need to have solid motives for other suspects or the police won’t believe us.”
Ivy snatched a pen from the counter and grabbed the notepad we scribbled orders on. “Okay. Motives, besides us. She was always rude to Maggie White.”
I nodded and crossed my arms. “True, and Maggie did spill tea on her, but that doesn’t mean she killed anyone.”
Still, Ivy jotted down her name. “Who else?” she asked and furrowed her brows.
This was harder than I thought. Ivy was right; everyone in town had a reason to hate Jenny Walker, and if hate was all it took for a motive…
“Maybe we’re looking at this backward,” I said. “Maybe it’s not ab
out who had the best motive, but who had the means. Who spent the most time with her. What about Matthew?”
Ivy’s eyes lit up. “Oh, the husband. I’d believe it. After being married to her for so long, anyone would want out.”
I bit back the desire to laugh and failed. Miserably. “True, but why now? And why marry her in the first place?”
Ivy shrugged and added his name to our list. “She entranced him and once he came to his senses it was too late. To death do we part, and all.”
That sounded like typical Jenny Walker. I’ll bet our mom would even confirm so if we asked. “Who else was in the shop yesterday? We should add them too since it’s possible the poison came from them.”
Ivy worried her bottom lip. “That English businessman. Carly and her mom. Maggie. You and me. Do you really think a six-year-old did it?” Ivy looked at me from under her dark fringe, the ends flicking into her eyes.
“Probably not, and her mom didn’t go near Jenny. They never do. This would be easier if we knew what kind of poison it was,” I muttered and grabbed a few boxes of unmixed tea.
I needed to add the dried flowers and fruit to them to make sure we had enough for the next day.
Ivy grinned at me. It was the same grin she had as a kid when she put a live crab in Travis Myers’s sleeping bag at a beach campout. “Ask Dean. I mean, Detective Harper.”
I felt my cheeks flush and ducked my chin to my chest. “There’s no chance he’d tell me anything.”
“Not even if you ask nicely?” she said and raised her eyebrows suggestively.
“He thinks I killed someone. I don’t think he’ll give me clues about the case,” I said with more force than I meant, and pulled out the box of rose hips.
Ivy frowned. “I don’t think he really thinks you, or I, did it. There’s no harm in trying.”
“Unless he decided I was being suspicious and threw me in jail,” I countered.
Her expression sobered. “That’s illegal. The police must have a reason to question you, and they can’t hold you without charging you with anything for over twenty-four hours. Don’t you watch CSI?”