“Hold on a sec,” Olivia whipped out her cell phone, the new one that took digital pictures, and opened the camera application. She snapped three or four pictures of the clearing and stump. “All right,” she said and tucked the phone back into her pocket. “Let’s go.”
“Before we get snowed in,” Jake said.
They huddled shoulder to shoulder and strode between the trees again, toward the Horn house. Their footsteps crunched on the leaves, but soon they would crunch on snow. Flakes settled in Olivia’s hair, and the air chilled her nose.
“Do you want my jacket?” Jake shivered beside her.
“No, I’m good. Thank you,” she said and gave him one of her brightest smiles.
They neared the house, but movement flickered, and Olivia stopped dead in her tracks. She stepped behind a tree, and Jake followed her.
“Look,” she breathed.
Mrs. Horn paced around on the back porch within that yellow police line. She muttered to herself and peered out into the snow. Had she seen them enter the forest? Impossible—both the house and drive had been empty when they’d arrived.
“What’s she doing?” Jake asked.
“Something illegal,” Olivia replied.
Mrs. Horn stared at the spot where her son had fallen to the floor. Her shoulders shook with emotion.
A car horn sounded around the front of the house, and she jumped. Mrs. Horn darted down the back stairs, her footsteps heavy on the wood. She ducked under the line, then jogged around the corner of the house and disappeared from sight.
“Quick.” Olivia shivered out the words. “After her. Before she gets away.”
“It’s like I’m living a movie,” Jake muttered, but he didn’t stall.
They sprinted for the corner of the house. An engine roared in the road in front of the house. They wouldn’t make it in time.
Olivia and Jake skidded to a halt at the corner of the house, cheeks iced from the run. They spotted tail lights retreating, but the car was too far off to identify.
“Shoot,” Olivia said, and pounded her fist into her gloved palm. “Did you see what it was?”
“Not a chance,” Jake said. “Too far away. But I’m almost one hundred percent certain that wasn’t Mr. Horn’s car.”
Olivia glanced back at the porch and frowned. “What on earth was she up to over there?”
“Grieving?”
“Maybe,” Olivia said, but the question hung in the frosty air, unanswered. “Come on, Mr. Morgan, let’s get back to the shop and fill up on coffee.”
“Don’t forget the chocolates,” he said.
Chapter Seven
Olivia handed Jake a mug of hot chocolate.
“Thanks,” he said and settled back on the sofa. Dodger jumped up beside him and nudged the investigator’s arm. Warm, brown liquid splashed onto Jake’s lap.
“Dodgy, no!” Olivia said.
Dodger whined and scooted off the sofa again.
“To the bedroom!” Olivia pointed, and her doggy trotted off down the hall, his claws clicking on the boards and his tail between his legs. “Sorry about that. I’ll get you a wet wipe.”
“No, it’s okay,” Jake said and produced a pack of tissues from his front pocket. “I’m always carrying.” He placed his hot chocolate on the coffee table—on a coaster, thank goodness—then dabbed at the splotch on his jeans.
“Dodger’s a little too enthusiastic.”
“At least he likes me,” Jake said and gestured with the sodden tissue. “That’s a good sign.”
Olivia hurried to the armchair opposite the investigator and lowered herself into it. She didn’t ask what he meant about it being a good sign that Dodger liked him. She didn’t want to read too much into this.
They’d only just gotten back to the uneasy friendship they’d struck up after the death of Lizzy Couture.
“How are you feeling?” Jake asked. “Still cold?”
“No, but I’m concerned about the markings on that stump. When I spoke with Keane, he seemed pretty convinced that the murderer had been inside the house. This makes me think otherwise.”
Jake pulled a face.
“You think I’m wrong?”
“No. I think all the evidence so far is circumstantial at best. I mean, we’d have to research all those symbols. Why was there a fire out there?”
“I don’t know,” Olivia said, and scratched her nose. “And Mrs. Horn’s behavior didn’t exactly help. She seemed so distracted. I wish we could’ve gotten a look at the car she got into. Might’ve cleared a few things up.”
“I agree. I’m going to have to let Detective Keane know she tampered with the evidence.”
“Ugh, just don’t mention I was there. He’ll be furious,” Olivia said. “That stump has got something to do with this. I just know it.”
Jake wriggled his nose. “It’s difficult to make any deductions without anything concrete.”
Concrete. That reminded her of the plaster sculpture missing from the back of the house. Had someone carried it off? Or had it been there, out of sight when they’d stood on the back porch? Perhaps the police had already taken it into evidence.
“That’s where you come in, Mr. Morgan. You’ll have to liaise with police on this one. Get us as much information as you can,” Olivia said. She held her breath—surely he’d tell her to back off yet again, that this wasn’t any of her business.
But it was. She’d been at the crime scene, and so had Sebastian. And his friend, that Kerry girl. He’d stayed with her at her parents’ house after his sleep on the sofa. He needed that alone time, and Kerry knew Jason well. The two of them could work through their grief together.
Jake Morgan looked down into the depths of his hot chocolate. “I’m sorry, Olivia.”
“I know, you can’t do it because it’s unethical, or I shouldn’t get involved or—”
“No. That’s not what I mean.” He put the hot chocolate mug back on the coaster again. “I’ve gotten a few updates from my contact.” Jake reached into his pocket and brought out his cell. He waved it at her.
It was one of those fancy smartphones with the touch screens. Olivia couldn’t work them properly.
“What did he say?” she asked and squished forward. She put down her hot chocolate, too.
“The police are investigating everyone who was in the house. Everyone, but their main focus is on—Olivia, I can’t tell you how sorry I am—but their main focus is on Sebastian.”
“What?” She lurched forward in her seat. “Why? Sebastian didn’t do it. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Jake lifted his shoulders, then let them fall. “They won’t tell me much. All I know is they have a connection that makes Sebastian a stronger possibility for their case.”
“You don’t really believe my son would—”
“Olivia, no. I don’t believe anything without sufficient evidence. And I will help you get through this, no matter what the outcome is.”
Olivia swallowed fear and blocked out the tingle in her throat—the threat of tears. She wouldn’t cry or panic. She wouldn’t let the police arrest her son for a crime he didn’t commit, either.
“Okay,” she said after a second. She sucked in a deep breath. It wasn’t like the cops had arrested her son. She’d have to talk to him about this. They’d had a close relationship since he’d been born. Her only son, her baby who’d become a man and established the same independence that Olivia strived for.
“Are you all right?” Jake asked, and his tan brow wrinkled along well-creased lines.
“Fine,” Olivia said and set her jaw in determination. “I know what I have to do. I’m not going to let this one go, no matter what Detective Keane wants.”
Jake nodded and slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” His soft smile sent warmth through her chest.
At least she had a friend to support her. Then too, all the A’s would have her back. They’d never believe anything ill of Sebastian. Olivia picke
d up her hot chocolate and drank deeply. The swirl of chocolate goodness melted away any of her remaining fears.
“Thanks for coming, Jake,” she said.
“What else are friends for?” he asked and smiled at her from across the living room.
Chapter Eight
Olivia sat on the floral printed sofa in the Walters’ living room and sipped coffee from a chipped mug.
Sebastian sat beside her, pale as a sheet and eyes squeezed shut. The house was empty apart from them, not that Olivia had wanted to run into the rude Mr. Walter anyway. Or Kerry, for that matter. She needed to speak to Sebastian in private.
Her son exhaled and puffed out his cheeks. “I can’t believe this has happened,” he said, without opening his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Sebby,” she said and patted him on the shoulder.
He didn’t tell her not to call him that.
Dodger whined and scuffled around at Olivia’s feet. The Walters had dogs of their own, and Sebastian had ensured her that it wouldn’t be a problem to bring him over.
“I don’t know if you’re ready to talk about it yet,” Olivia said, “but we’re going to have to.”
“Why?” Sebastian asked, and his eyelids flickered up. He met his mother’s gaze. “It’s the cops, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Detective Keane has always had a sore spot for me, and I think he’s transferred it to you.” She didn’t apologize. Detective Keane was beyond reason. He’d blocked her countless times.
Sebastian rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. “I just can’t believe it. I’m stuck in a state of shock, permanently. It’s like, who would want to hurt him?”
“You’re not worried that the police think you might’ve—you know.”
“No. I don’t care what they think, Mom. I know I didn’t hurt him,” Sebastian said. He bent and ruffled the fur on top of the Labrador’s head.
“I’m trying to figure out who did,” Olivia said, “and I need your help.”
“How?” Sebastian didn’t know about Olivia’s adventures over the past few months. They’d kept in contact, obviously, but she hadn’t seen any reason to freak him out with details of her investigations.
“I need you to talk to me about Jason,” Olivia said. “I know that’s going to be tough for you, but can you do it?”
“Yeah, I can,” Sebastian said and straightened on the sofa. He glanced back out the window behind them at the snow-covered lawn and the laden branches of the trees. “If it’s for Jason, I can do it.”
“Awesome,” Olivia said. She took a notepad and pen out of her handbag and placed them in her lap.
“Are you serious?” Sebastian asked, a twinkle of humor in his eyes—the first she’d seen since that fateful night.
“I’m investigating, love. It’s what I do nowadays,” Olivia said.
“Mom, don’t make me worry about you, please.”
“You don’t need to worry. Now, settle down and answer my questions.” She patted him again, and he rolled his eyes.
“Shoot,” he said. Dodger whined again and nudged his knees, demanding attention. Olivia had squeezed her dog into a doggy sweater that morning—it’d been as easy as dressing an octopus.
“You and Jason were friends,” Olivia said.
“Close friends. We met at the beginning of the year,” Sebastian said. “He’s a great guy. Friendly with everyone at college.”
Olivia scribbled down notes. “You and Jason got on well then? No bad blood?”
“Of course not. I mean, we’d fight once in a while. But, like, everyone does that! It’s not a big deal.” Sebastian shrugged and finally resumed petting Dodger. The dog quieted at last.
“Do you know of anyone who might’ve wanted to hurt Jason?” she asked, pen poised above the paper, her gaze glued to her son’s face.
He frowned, and conflict warred behind his eyes. He stroked his index finger across one bushy eyebrow. “Yeah, actually. Uh, I guess it’s not fair to say that he wanted to hurt Jason, but I do know someone who didn’t get on with him. At all.”
“Who?”
“Mr. Horn,” Sebastian said, and fidgeted his hands into his lap.
Dodger groaned and plonked down across Sebastian’s sneakers.
“Jason’s father?” Olivia asked.
“That’s right.” Sebastian ground his teeth. “Mr. Horn hated Jason.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Jason told me,” Sebastian said, “and I heard countless arguments over the phone between them. Mr. Horn hated the fact that Jason wasn’t studying to be a lawyer.”
Olivia’s mind flashed back to the strange argument she’d witnessed between Jason and his father on the night of the murder. Minutes before the lights went out and Jason had been killed. But then, Mr. Horn had been at the table with Olivia during the blackout.
Surely, he couldn’t have had enough time to track down his son and attack him?
“He threatened Jason, too. He threatened to take his allowance away. Jason worked part-time jobs just to have enough money to eat,” Sebastian continued. “And Mrs. Horn, ugh, she was no better.”
“Why?”
“She never stood up to her husband. Jason told me that Mr. Horn had been mean for years, and it’d only gotten worse as Jason had grown older. Jason was an only child. Mr. Horn wanted him to take over the family business.”
“And when he didn’t, he got angry,” Olivia said.
“Exactly.”
Olivia wrote down the information. It wasn’t enough, though. Mr. Horn was a disappointed parent, sure, but that didn’t mean he’d killed his only son. He’d been angry, yet the argument had felt like a rerun. Like it happened often and was no different from any of the others.
“Was Mr. Horn ever violent?” Olivia asked.
“Not that I know of. Honestly, I don’t think Jason would’ve told me if he was. He was a proud guy. The only reason I knew about any of this was because he couldn’t avoid telling me. We shared a room,” Sebastian said, and rubbed his eyes again.
“Is there anything else you can think of?”
Sebastian shook his head. “No. Sorry, Mom. I’m just so tired. Mr. Walter doesn’t seem too happy about me being here. He’s got me sleeping on the sofa.”
“What?” Olivia bristled. “I’ll speak to him about it. Or I’ll ask Alphonsine to—”
“No, I’m really okay. I want to be here. Kerry needs support, and so do I. We’re the only ones who really knew Jason.” The dark circles under his eyes seemed even more apparent now that he’d mentioned the lack of sleep.
“I could call a hotel. Book a room.”
Sebastian took her hand in his and squeezed it. “I’m fine. I promise.” Then he gave her a massive, heart-melting hug.
His bear hug brought back memories of him as a five-year-old, reaching up to tug on her skirt and ask her for help with his shoelaces.
“Don’t worry, honey,” she said. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Chapter Nine
By the next morning, the vicious cold front had passed, and a watery sun peaked out from behind a bank of puffy white clouds. The snow had melted, leaving patches in the gutters and the grates on the sides of the road.
“So, what do you think?” Alvira asked and switched Dodger’s leash from one gloved hand to the other.
Snow or not, their breaths still misted in front of their faces.
“I’m not sure what to think yet,” Olivia said. “I don’t think I have enough evidence to make a deduction.”
They walked around the block, along the drying concrete, Dodger still outfitted in his woolen sweater. His tail wagged from side to side. The cold had never bothered him. Nothing could dampen Dodger the Great’s spirits.
“Mr. Horn hated Jason,” Olivia muttered, “and Mrs. Horn acted really strange the other day when Jake and I checked out the house. Then there’s that stump with the carvings.”
“Ugh, that gives me the chills,” Alvira said and shook her shoulder
s. “It sounds like some kind of magic. Or, I don’t know, something creepy. I can’t quite place it.”
“I know what you mean,” Olivia said. She’d had the same reaction to the mystery stump, the carvings, and the used fire pit at the back of the Horn home.
They turned the corner and carried on down the road, toward the distant bench that acted as a bus station. A familiar figure sat on it, head down, long blond hair peeking out from the side of a hoodie.
“What’s wrong?” Alvira asked.
Olivia nodded toward the lone figure. “Think she’s catching a bus? I bet Detective Keane wouldn’t approve.”
Dodger barked, and the girl on the bench jolted upright. She turned and looked at them, capturing Olivia’s gaze with her own. Tears shone on Kerry Walter’s cheeks.
Olivia stopped beside the bench and placed a single gloved hand on its edge. “You okay?” she asked. “I didn’t expect to find you out here.”
“I wanted to go shopping,” Kerry said. She blinked, and another tear detached itself from her waterproof mascara coated lashes. “Tried retail therapy. It doesn’t work.” She patted the bags beside her.
“There aren’t any nice stores in Chester,” Alvira said, and sympathy swam from her tone. Dodger barked again, but Kerry didn’t flinch this time.
“You’re right,” Kerry replied. “Target isn’t that bad, though.” She patted the bag again. “I—I just wanted to forget for a while.”
“I’m sorry about Jason,” Olivia said and took a seat beside the girl. The bench’s cold surface stung through the seat of her jeans.
Kerry nodded, and her bottom lip quivered. “You’re Sebby’s mom,” she said, “right?”
“That’s right. I was there. I don’t know if you remember.”
“How could I forget?” Kerry shook her head and gulped. “I keep replaying that night over and over again in my mind.”
“I’m sorry,” Olivia said, again. It didn’t make an impact on Kerry’s doleful expression. “You, Jason and Sebastian were close. Best friends?”
“Yeah. Three best friends. But Jason and I were more than that,” Kerry said. “We’d just—we’d just started dating. I saw a real future with him.”
Fudgement Day (Chocolate Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 3