by Laney Monday
“And she asked you to come here to help her?”
“No, her friend Tola owns this restaurant. My mom hasn’t spoken to me in three years. We had an intervention. Me, Grandpa, the whole family. It didn’t go well. Tola’s the only one she’ll talk to now. She let Tola check her in to rehab, but she can’t afford to pay for it. My mom would never stand for me footing the bill, but if I give the money to Tola, she’ll take it from Tola.”
Walter hung his head. His arms fell to his sides. He looked absolutely emotionally spent.
My heart just about broke for Walter. Here he was, sneaking around in the pouring rain, trying to help his mother. A mother who’d been separated from her family for years. Who was in desperate need. If he’s telling the truth, I reminded myself. How could I know for sure that this had nothing to do with the murder? Walter’s wife had gone out of her way to cast suspicion on Gunter Hatton. That could very well be to divert attention away from her husband.
“Your wife…she said something about Gunter Hatton. It made me think she believed he was responsible for the murder.” Or that she wanted me to think so. But I was guessing Walter wasn’t the sort of guy who’d take well to me implying his beloved soulmate might be dishonest.
Walter looked genuinely perplexed. “Evelyn said that? No, you must’ve misunderstood her. I don’t think she thinks that.” Walter shook his head, sending rain water flying. “She never told me that.”
Interesting. She’d made it sound like they were on the same page, suspecting Hatton of wrongdoing. Hadn’t she said it was Walter who’d persuaded Herbert to run for mayor, for that very reason?
“I’m going to tell Will. He’ll want to talk to you about it, I’m sure. But Will’s your friend, Walter. He won’t leak this. He wouldn’t do that to you.”
Walter shook his head. “Probably not, but other people in the department might. People who want my grandfather’s campaign to fail.” Walter lowered his voice, even though there was no one around to hear. “I think Hatton has some of them in his pocket.”
“Who?”
Walter pulled back. “I can’t say.”
I couldn’t help thinking of Officer Tony Pfeiffer. I wondered if he genuinely suspected anyone in particular, and if he had any real reason to do so. But I’d pushed Walter enough for one day.
“Well, if you’re done here, Walter, let’s get out of this.” I gestured at the rain.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Let’s go.”
I was so wet, so gross, and I’d left my gym bag inside. I didn’t have a spare gi in my truck either. I’d developed the habit of keeping one in my vehicle years ago, but I’d stopped after I moved to Bonney Bay. I ran up the creaky steps and inside to get my bag. It felt so good and warm, sheltered from the wet and wind.
I stood in the spot where I’d left my bag and just stared. Gone. My bag was gone. With my keys inside, my clothes…
Either someone had stolen it, or someone had taken it into the dojo, thinking it had been mistakenly left behind. I spotted a sign for the bathroom just inside the entrance and ducked in there to see what I could do about making myself look presentable. I had to go back into the dojo, where my presence was sure to be noticed, to get my keys and my bag—or, if my stuff was truly gone—to beg someone for a phone or a ride. And who would be the first person to offer me a ride? Jake. If Walter was still around, maybe I could go back with him. But only after everyone at the seminar realized I was mysteriously soaking wet and had lost my bag.
This was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare.
18
There was no way to just disappear. And once I showed back up in there, I’d have to say something. Aargh! What was I going to say? I took a deep breath. First things first.
The bathroom smelled like Pine-sol. It had that old but charming black and white tile and wooden stalls painted dark green. In the corner, on the floor, was a janitor’s sink. A mop was propped up in a wheeled bucket inside it. I moved the mop and bucket, stuck my filthy feet in the sink, and turned on the hot water. Ah, that’s better. Nice and warm. Not quite clean, but…the bottle of Pine-sol rested on a shelf above the sink. I debated between the soap dispenser on the wall and the Pine-sol. I’d have to take my feet out of this nice, hot water and hop over there to get the soap, and besides, something stronger than soap was in order. I didn’t want to track germs all over the mat. Pine-sol won. I grabbed the bottle, struggled with the childproof cap, then began to pour.
The bathroom door banged open. I jolted, and the bottle of Pine-Sol slipped out of my hand. Piney cleaner sloshed across my legs. I scrambled to grab the bottle and turn it upright before its entire contents went down the drain.
A girl, about nine years old, stared at me, wide-eyed. Brenna Battle, the Olympian, standing in the janitor’s sink, barefoot, filthy, and doused in bathroom and floor cleanser. She averted her eyes and ran into a stall. A girl after my own heart. That was exactly what I wanted to do.
I’d probably scarred her for life. I had to get out of there before the kid came out of the stall and was forced to face the awkwardness of my humiliation, coupled with the trauma of realizing someone she’d looked up to just half an hour ago was actually a moron. I hadn’t bothered to roll up my pant legs since they were already hopelessly soaked. Now they were also bathed in the overpowering scent of Pine-Sol. I grabbed a wad of paper towels and tried to dry my feet and my pants. At least my feet appeared clean now.
I caught a glimpse of my hair, hanging in dripping strands from my weeping ponytail. I took my hair down, rung it out, and looked around for a hand dryer. No such luck. I pulled it back again and secured it into a new ponytail. I’d go in there, get this over with, go home, and take a nice, hot shower. And hopefully not have come back with Blythe because someone had taken off with my keys. Relax, I told myself. The truck’s still there, so the bag probably wasn’t stolen.
I neared the dojo door, steeling myself for my impending humiliation.
“Do you smell Pine-Sol?” Someone said from inside.
I swear, I could hear them sniffing even though I hadn’t even walked in the door. I’d just duck in, find my bag—
“Brenna?”
No. Way. What was he doing here?
I turned around and tried to mask my shock and mortification with a smile. “Will. Hi!” I said awkwardly.
He looked at me quizzically. He was clean, dry, and handsome, dressed in jeans and a light sweater that looked like it was made for him. I put my arms around him. His hug was quick, a little stiff. I told myself it was just because I was soaking wet. “I didn’t know you were coming. How did you know I was going to be here?” Or were you just coming yourself, to check out Jake?
“Blythe told me you were coming. I didn’t like it. It didn’t feel right.”
“Blythe told you?”
“Don’t blame Blythe. You know she can’t lie when someone asks her a direct question.”
And Will, with his detective’s mind, didn’t fall for her vague pleasantries and attempts at distraction, which were so effective on everyone else when she didn’t want to answer a question.
“You didn’t answer your phone. I got worried. I thought you might be getting into trouble.” He crossed his arms. “It looks like I was right. What happened to you?”
“I’m fine. Getting a little wet never hurt anybody.”
“What were you doing—with Walter?”
It was an accusation, but it wasn’t a jealous one. Not only was Will not the jealous type, Walter wasn’t the type he’d be jealous of. Nope, I’d bet the hot ramen noodle lunch I’d been looking forward to that Will Riggins suspected I was up to exactly the type of thing I’d been up to. Snooping.
“Walter?” I said.
“You just came in here looking like a drowned rat, right after Walter came in looking like a drowned wookie. No connection?”
“A rat? Why can’t I be a wookie?”
“Brenna.”
“Walter’s friend Tola owns a restaurant ne
ar here. We went to see her.”
“In the middle of the seminar?”
“I’m sure I didn’t miss anything I haven’t seen before,” I grumbled.
The look on Will’s face was unmistakable, as he turned away. He was thinking of just how much I’d seen of Jake Fletcher. Too much for his liking. I wanted to throw up. And smash something. Preferably something of Jake’s.
“So you just stepped out with Walter?”
“No, I wasn’t with Walter, I was following him.” Are you happy now?
“Brenna? Is that you out there?” Jake emerged in the hallway. In his hand was my judo bag. “Where’ve you been? Someone found your bag in the hall.”
I snatched my bag and mumbled, “Thanks.”
A couple of kids, about ten years old, poked their heads out the doorway and stared at me. They giggled and whispered. I looked at Jake and tried to fight the heat in my cheeks. “I had to step out for a minute,” I said.
“No kidding?” Jake noticed Will taking my bag for me. Jake looked him up and down. “Who’s this?”
Had he always been this haughty? This pathetically full of himself? Maybe I’d been blind to it. Maybe I’d been so used to Jake that I didn’t notice it. No. This was new. It was just that he’d never felt threatened before, when it came to me. And that meant he still had feelings for me. He felt that I was his in some way. I’d been his athlete for ten years. It was only natural that he’d feel like he had a stake in what happened to me, whether it was really appropriate or not. I could understand that. I could understand caring who I ended up with, even though it wasn’t any of his business. But this was something more.
Just as I opened my mouth to do the honors, Will stepped forward to introduce himself. “Officer Will Riggins.” He shook Jake’s hand firmly.
Maybe I was biased, but to me, unlike Jake, Will came across as classy and confident. My nervousness about the two of them together was replaced by a surge of pride, then sadness and even…shame. If only I could take it back. If only I could change it. There should have been only Will.
Jake said, “What brings you here, Officer Riggins?”
I stepped forward. “Will’s a friend of mine. A good friend.”
“Oh?” Jake raised his eyebrows. Then he smirked at Will. “Good luck with that.”
“Excuse me?” Will said. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing against you or Brenna. It’s just that I’ve known Brenna most of her life. She doesn’t do relationships.”
Will straightened up. He took a step closer to Jake. “She does now.”
I put my hand on Will’s arm. It was tense, though his tone was cool. Will adjusted his arm and took my hand.
“Good-bye, Jake,” I said. “I have to go.”
Jake shrugged again, then turned and went back into the dojo.
Will said, “Are you in the mood for something hot to eat?”
I nodded. “Soup. Ramen. Let me change first.”
“Yeah, you might want to do that.”
“Thanks,” I said. But my heart lifted a little bit. He wasn’t too mad to tease me. That was a good sign.
Twenty minutes later, Will and I were seated at a little restaurant a few blocks away, sipping ramen.
Will squirted Sriracha hot sauce on top of his ramen. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today, but I just wanted to beat that Jake guy to a pulp.”
“It’s not you; it’s Jake. I want to pulverize him, too.”
“Yes, but at least you know you could. He could bury me, couldn’t he?”
I wasn’t so sure. It had never really been Jake’s role to try to beat me, even in practice. He was my coach, not my training partner. Jake was a former Olympic alternate. And he was a man. If everything else was equal, gender mattered. But that wasn’t the point, and it certainly wouldn’t make Will feel any better.
“You bury him as a man, Will Riggins. He couldn’t handle this.” I waved my hand at myself. “He couldn’t handle being there for me when I really needed it. And then, he wasn’t man enough to be faithful to Blythe.”
“Still, if you could hand him his you-know-what, that would be nice to see.”
“I’m trying to be more ladylike, Will, and you’re not helping.”
“Sorry. I’m not usually such a bad influence.”
I laughed. “No, that’s my job.”
Will’s expression turned serious. “I was so worried about you. Blythe told me you’d be at the seminar, and when you weren’t…I was about to check with Highway Patrol. I know you’re not used to driving in Seattle. And then I saw your name on the sign-in sheet and your truck in the parking lot. I could just see you, following some crazy clue. Running into the wrong people. I can’t believe I ever said anything to encourage you—”
“I’m not a child. You put yourself in danger every day.”
“I have a gun and a badge. Sometimes a bulletproof vest.”
“So…I guess you don’t want to know what I found out?”
Will sighed. “Just spill it.”
I sat back against the couch, a towel around my head, my feet in the warm, foamy water, listening to a voicemail from Harvey. I’d missed his call while I was making a fool of myself in Seattle. Apparently, Harvey had pushed the town council into holding a special meeting about his sidewalk this coming Monday. I got the distinct impression that I was supposed to feel guilty for not securing the everlasting safety of his roses already, or least Gunter Hatton’s demise.
I’d gotten just a tad distracted with this murder thing. But hey, maybe this meeting wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe leaving Harvey to handle things on his own for a few days hadn’t turned out so bad after all.
“Don’t drop your phone in the water, Brenna,” my sister warned me.
I stuck my tongue out at her and set the phone down. I’d taken a long, hot shower, and now my feet were getting some extra attention and cleansing. She’d rested a basin on a towel on our coffee table and ordered me to put my feet in it. Whatever Blythe had put in the water was making my skin tingle. I didn’t complain. I liked to think the tingle was doing something. Preferably killing whatever had survived the Pine-Sol bath and my steamy shower.
“Five more minutes. Then it’s time for the scrub,” Blythe said.
Right about now, removing a few layers of skin sounded like a pretty good idea. While I soaked, I filled Blythe in on my ordeal. Blythe turned bright red on my behalf at all the embarrassing parts, killing any hope I had of kidding myself into believing it hadn’t been so bad.
“What do you think, Bly?”
“I think I should’ve been there to watch you choke the life out of Jake.”
Yeah, I couldn’t help sharing that part of the story. I’d kept the weirdness of Jake’s meeting Will to myself, though. “I meant the investigation. What do you think I should do next? Should I pay Evelyn another visit? Fish around for what she meant?”
“You could just ask her outright.”
“No, I don’t think that would work with her. Should I just start looking into Gunter?”
“No, the police have to be taking care of that already. He was one of the last people to see Mrs. Hermiston alive, and he argued with her.”
“You’re right. I should be pursuing leads that they don’t have time for. But I feel stuck.”
“You’re just tired. You had quite a day.”
“You’re right. Today wore me out. I can’t even think. Tell me what you think, Bly.”
“Well, it was a crime of passion. I’m absolutely convinced of that.” She handed me a tube of foot scrub. “It’s time for the good stuff.”
I wasn’t convinced someone couldn’t have tried to make it look like a crime of passion, even if it was well planned out. Wouldn’t that be a smart way to throw the police off your trail? But I kept that to myself for now.
Crime of passion. Okay. Maybe it was time to reconsider that possibility. The trouble was, passions were running high that day, for a lot of people. And whether th
e murder was planned or spontaneous, most of those passions were related to the race for mayor, in one way or another. All but one. One person had been upset that day, and it had nothing to do with the election. But it was someone very close to the victim. Dina Hermiston’s Grandson, Zack. But Dina was on Zack’s side. His sister, Delaney, had made that clear. She coddled him and gave him money. Now, if Delaney had been killed, that would make more sense.
I scrubbed my feet with the gritty, minty stuff, then toweled them off. I felt so much better.
“Brenna?”
“Sorry. I guess I spaced out.”
Blythe hesitated. “Is everything okay between you and Will?” she asked softly.
“What? Why?”
“Well, when I talked to him earlier, he just didn’t sound right.”
“The investigation’s wearing on him. And I guess he wasn’t happy to find out I went to Jake’s seminar.”
“Why would he be upset about that? What did you tell him about Jake?”
It would’ve been so easy just to say I’d told him Jake was a jerk. But that would be a lie. A lie to my sister. Kind of like the lie of omission I’d been living for the past few years. Will was still pretty upset that I hadn’t told him about Jake a long time ago. I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to tell Blythe the rest of the story about Jake Fletcher.
19
“Last night, when I went over to Will’s house, we were talking about us—about me and him.”
“And?” Her eyes sparkled and her question was practically a squee.
Oh, no. Did she really think good news was coming? Maybe she thought he’d proposed and I was dragging my feet. Of course she’d talk some sense into me and all would be well. Will and I would start planning a fairytale wedding and everyone would live happily ever after. Why did I have to burst her bubble? Why was this so hard?