No, I needed to trust that Katie knew what she was doing.
The thought of Katie made me realize that the two owners of the Cozy Corgi bookshop and bakery had abandoned their store to someone who’d worked there for less than a day.
I glanced at Watson. “Sammy is pretty much a creepy clone of Katie, which means she can handle just about anything. We’re good, right? It’s not like anybody was buying books anyway.”
Watson flicked an ear in my direction.
“Exactly. She’s got it all under control. We’ll drop by Myrtle’s and see… no. No, we won’t.” I motioned toward the other end of the street. “We’ll go to Alice’s candle store, see if we can get her to talk about cheating. Though how I’m going to do that, I have no idea.” With the sun sinking lower, the January afternoon was getting cooler, and I adjusted my mustard-hued scarf a little closer. “Okay, decision made, let’s go.”
Watson followed and let out a little bark as we neared the end of the block.
I turned back to him and found Watson staring at the door to Black Bear Roaster. Despite devouring his dog treat from Anna, Watson was doubtlessly picturing the countless too-dry scones we’d purchased there before Katie had opened the bakery. “Oh no, we’re not going in there. I’m sure Carla is furious at whatever business Katie’s taking away. Besides, you don’t need another parched scone, do you?”
He whimpered.
We had a staring contest for a minute. I lost, as always. I wasn’t sure why I bothered. Admitting defeat, I shielded my eyes with my hands, and pressed against the window, trying to see if Carla was behind the counter. She wasn’t. Feeling better, I started to pull away, and then noticed someone waving. Carla, holding a baby, sat at the table by the window, less than a few inches away from where I’d smashed myself against the glass. I jerked back, then offered the most awkward wave in the history of waving.
I glared at Watson. “This is your fault. You and your love of bone-dry baked goods. It’s not like I can walk away now.”
For his part, Watson gave a little hop as I reached for the front door, but looked thwarted when I paused by the first table to the right. “Carla. It’s so nice to see you.” Suddenly I remembered the baby in her arms. “Oh, you had your baby.” I leaned closer. He wasn’t the cutest of babies, but newborns rarely were. “He’s adorable!”
“This is Shayla, and she’s a girl.” Carla simultaneously shifted baby Shayla in her arms, exposing her ever-growing belly, and motioned to the woman I’d not even noticed sitting across from her. “She’s Tiffany’s little girl, and I still have one more month until I’m due.”
“Oh!” I attempted a smile toward Tiffany. “Well, Shayla is absolute… perfection.” I cleared my throat. “I don’t want to take up your time. I’m sure you’re busy. We just came in for a coffee and a scone.”
Carla’s eyebrows shot so far up they were hidden behind her blonde bangs. “Really? Can’t you get that at your store? Are you already tired of Katie’s inferior baking?”
At any other time, I would’ve defended Katie with every ounce of fire my long auburn hair bestowed upon me, but I’d already stuck my foot in my mouth too many times in the matter of ten seconds. “Nope. Just had a craving for chai, and Watson loves your scones.”
Figuring out that heaven was near as I said his name, Watson gave another little hop.
At that point, I was certain Carla would never be able to find her eyebrows again. “Your dog loves my scones?”
Synapses stopped firing as I tried to figure out if it was better to make a purchase or throw myself out the front door. “Watson has a very discerning palate.”
And with that, I turned and led Watson to the counter, instantly knowing that I’d chosen the wrong option. Even so, I ordered a dirty chai and a blueberry scone.
I could feel Carla’s eyes drilling into my back. Perhaps it didn’t take the kid two hours to make the chai, but it sure felt like it. Maybe it wasn’t too late to run out the front door.
As I waited, a conversation wafted through the buzzing in my brain. “I’m telling you, there’s nothing to worry about. They don’t have anything on Myrtle.”
At Myrtle’s name, I turned around, and apparently not only had I lost the art of having an intelligent conversation with someone without accidentally being insulting, but I’d also forgotten how to not be obvious.
“You gotta quit calling me. She’s going to be—” The man was sitting at a nearby table, and his words fell away as our eyes met.
It took me a second to put a name with his face. And when I did, I gave a little wave. “Hi, Owen.” Well, look at that. It appeared I’d outdone myself on the world’s most awkward wave. I was on a roll.
His expression brightened instantly, and he didn’t lower the phone as he spoke. “Fred Page. Imagine running into you here.” He glanced at Watson, but didn’t offer comment. “Awful business the other night. But I heard you found a pretty little pin to turn in to the police.” Though his lips formed what I thought was meant to be a smile, I felt a chill.
“You know, I heard that rumor, in fact—”
The barista cut me off, thankfully. “Large dirty chai and blueberry scone for Fred, on the counter.”
I glanced back at the voice, and, for some stupid reason, gave a third wave to the teenage barista. “Thank you!” I’d never meant those words more. I gave a brave attempt at a smile to Owen, without meeting his eyes. “Well, that’s me. Watson and I should be off. Nice running into you.” I whirled, and practically dragged Watson across the floor as I scooped up the chai and the scone and booked it out the door. I didn’t stop until we were two stores down.
Watson let out a huff, clearly affronted.
“Don’t give me that attitude. You’re the reason I went in there, remember? That was all your fault. All of it. Granted you didn’t lift up both my feet and shove them in my mouth and down my throat, but still.” I let out a sigh. “Seriously, what was that? Sometimes I wonder if Barry is secretly my real father.” I shuddered at that thought and started to hand the scone to Watson, then remembered he’d just had a large all-natural dog treat. I’d given up on the diet I’d placed him on the month before. He’d lasted a whole ten minutes on it anyway. Even so, I broke the scone in half and handed a portion to him. I took a bite of the other, discovered the scone was still as dry as the Sahara, and despite my hatred of wasting food, tossed it in a nearby trash can.
I stood there, stunned, sipping my chai, hoping the caffeine would take effect and reset my brain. Someone was worried about Myrtle, and apparently was repeatedly calling Owen about it. Maybe it hadn’t been simply one person responsible for killing Henry. Maybe it had been three. And maybe I was completely wrong about my gut feeling about Myrtle.
Watson finished devouring his scone, and looked at my empty hand, clearly expecting the other half.
Before I could remind him that I would be a horrible corgi mama if I allowed him to overdose on sugar, Owen stepped out of the coffee shop and, miracle of miracles, walked in the other direction without even looking our way.
Even so, I wasn’t going to press my nonexistent luck, and I hurried toward Alice’s candle shop, though I wasn’t sure there was any point after overhearing that conversation. At least Watson and I were off the streets and out of Owen’s possible view.
There was a chime as we entered Mountain Scents.
Alice, and an older Asian woman, both looked my way from the counter, straightened, and offered smiles that clearly stated I’d interrupted their conversation. When Alice spoke, her tone was entirely too cheerful. “Fred! And Watson! Petra and I haven’t seen you since the hike the other night. I’m still shaken up about it.”
For some reason, I hadn’t recognized Petra as one of the members of the Feathered Friends Brigade. She nodded and found her voice. “Yes, we were talking about how awful it was. Poor Henry.”
Though I didn’t have a specific reason why, my gut told me they were lying. Although, maybe I was thrown off fr
om my interaction with Owen and prone to suspect everyone at this point. “Yes, it was quite shocking.” I took a sip of my chai, trying to figure out what to say, and then gave the cup a dirty look.
Alice laughed, this time the sound seeming authentic. “It’s all the candles.” She waved her hand in a circular motion in the air, encompassing the hundreds upon hundreds of candles in the store. “All the smells at once change the taste of nearly everything. I don’t notice it anymore, but when I first opened, I thought it was the best diet plan I’d ever had.”
Thank goodness Katie had wanted to open a bakery in the top floor of the Cozy Corgi, and not a candle shop. “That’s kinda fascinating. I’ll try not to take too much of your time so my chai doesn’t get cold before I can drink it without it tasting like lavender.” For some reason I thought that would be a joke, but it fell flat.
“You should try owning an ice cream parlor. I gave up on diets thirty years ago.” If Petra was attempting humor, it felt as flat as mine had.
The three of us stared at each other awkwardly, and I could feel Watson’s judgment. And I had to admit, by that point, it was well deserved.
“Did you come in for a candle?” Though she smiled, Alice seemed as ready to get the show on the road as I was.
This had been a mistake. At least so soon after my interaction with Carla and Owen. I needed time to process through things. And to remove my foot from my mouth, where it seemed stubbornly affixed. I decided to be honest. I wasn’t capable of pulling off anything else convincingly at this point. “No, I actually came by to talk about the other night. I was wondering what you ladies noticed in the forest.” I shrugged at Petra. “Well, I didn’t know you were here, but that was the luck of the draw. Two birds with one stone, I suppose.”
Both of their eyes widened again, and it took me a heartbeat to realize that I’d received confirmation that my foot was indeed still in my mouth. One does not reference killing birds with stones to ornithological-obsessed people. Especially when one of their own had been murdered.
“Sorry. You know what I mean.” That was doubtful. At this point even I didn’t know what I meant anymore.
“Aren’t the police investigating Henry’s death? I did hear that you found one of Myrtle’s pins at the scene, but aren’t they taking it from there?” From Alice’s tone, I was certain there was going to be a call to the police as soon as I walked out the door.
I attempted to skate around that question. “It’s just that… Katie is thinking about joining.” Turned out I was wrong. The truth wasn’t going to cut it. And even as I continued, I knew the lie would fall flat, as everything else had. I should dial Branson and hand them the phone to get it over with already. “I know that Katie is an adult and able to make her own decisions, but for some reason, I feel protective. And I don’t know if joining a club where someone was murdered, most likely by someone in that club, since we were the only ones up there, is the best idea. So… I thought I’d ask you, as two other women, how safe you feel.”
They stared at me.
“Well, you know, with all the talk of poaching and everything. I don’t want Katie to get mixed up in something.” I should’ve followed Alice and Petra’s lead and kept my mouth shut. “If there is a poacher turned murderer in the group, I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to join.”
“Poacher?” Petra flinched, her gaze darkening. “You know, maybe it’s bad to speak ill of the dead, but you shouldn’t give a word Henry said a bit of credence.” For a second it looked like she was about to launch into a sermon, then she sniffed and gave an apologetic glance toward Alice. “You know, I’ve been gone from the ice cream parlor too long as it is.” She hurried past Watson and me with another glare and out the door.
I’d not meant to hit a nerve, or even to imply anything, but it seemed as far as Petra was concerned, I’d done both. And it felt like it was more than me sticking my foot in my mouth. I focused on Alice, hoping I’d not already managed to shut her down. “Sorry, I know I interrupted yours and Petra’s conversation. I can come back later if you’d like.”
Alice hesitated, and when she spoke, her words were slow and deliberate. “Fred, you are always welcome in my store. But I’m not sure what you’re looking for here. I sell candles, that’s it. In my spare time, I enjoy bird-watching and gathering with like-minded people. I don’t have any clues to give you.”
“No, I told you, I’m here because….” I let the words fade away. It was pointless. And even though I knew anything else I could possibly say would also be pointless, this was clearly the one chance I would have. Once I walked out the door, I was certain she really would call the police, and probably never speak to me again. So, once more, I tried for the truth. I reminded myself that I was Percival’s niece, so I opted for the blunt truth.
“Honestly, Alice, you’re right. I am here because of Henry’s murder. Henry, as Petra demonstrated, made a lot of enemies. Constantly accusing other members of the group of cheating or poaching, and who knows what else.” As I spoke the truth, some of my confidence came back. “In talking to other people who are in the club, your name came up as someone Henry was right about.” I nearly stopped there but decided to push a little further, milk the chance for everything it had since it would be my last. “It seems his accusations about you cheating to earn your badges were true.” Though the next part was speculation, I decided to take the risk. “Some are saying that you’ve gotten your son involved in your cheating. That he’s provided you fake recordings from the school in Denver where he is studying to work on sound in movies.”
“It’s bad enough you imply Petra might have something to do with Henry’s death.” All timidness fell away, as did any hint of friendliness in her tone. “But don’t you dare bring my son into this. He was not in those woods that night.”
I flinched, completely thrown off. “I wasn’t saying he was, Alice. Simply that he’s helping you cheat to earn your badges.”
“So what?” She sneered, her lips curling over her teeth, reminding me of what people said about mother bears. I’d not meant to threaten her son, but it seemed she was taking it that way. “They’re a few badges. Pieces of embroidered fabric. Nothing to kill someone over. If you want to go around accusing other people, then I suggest you talk to Benjamin, ask him how he helped Silas get all his.” She began to walk around the counter, and despite being several inches taller than her, I backed up in the face of her fury. “How dare you think that my son or I would murder someone for a bunch of stupid badges.” She thrust out both her hands at me. “Get out of here. You and your dirty little dog. Get out of my store.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice.
The shelter of the Cozy Corgi was in sight when I noticed Katie hurrying down the sidewalk from the other direction, her eyes bright with excitement. I bypassed the entrance to the bookshop to meet her, having to pause a moment to pull Watson away from the front door. He was either ready to get in from the cold or simply tired of seeing his mama make a fool of herself.
Katie grasped my hand as we met, and her voice was breathless. “How did things go for you? Any luck?”
I winced. “Judging from your expression, I’m guessing you had a better go of it than me. Why don’t you start? You were with Myrtle for quite a while.”
“Well, I probably spent longer researching that kakapo bird than I truly needed to, but I’m glad I did. Mentioning it to her was like opening Pandora’s box.” Though still excited, her giddy smile softened slightly. “You know, I genuinely like her. Granted, she’s a little obsessive and strange, but so am I. Personally, I think both of those are redeeming qualities.”
I rather thought so myself. And despite Myrtle’s and my tense relationship, the more time I spent with her, the more I liked her as well. Although after hearing Owen’s phone call, I wasn’t sure I could trust my gut. “I hope you’re right. But what did she say about Benjamin?”
“Well….” Katie hesitated for a second. “She was careful about wh
at she said regarding Benjamin, honestly. I couldn’t get a good read on why. She wouldn’t say that she wasn’t with Benjamin when Henry was killed, but she didn’t say that she was either.”
“What does that mean?” A large man bumped into my shoulder without apology as he tried to step around Katie, Watson, and me. I motioned toward the wooden bench affixed in the sidewalk close to the street. “Actually, why don’t we sit? I know there’s not too many tourists wandering around downtown, but we’re still kinda in the way.”
Katie followed me to the bench. After glaring for a few seconds, Watson curled up underneath, between our feet. “I think it means she wasn’t with him. But she’s not exactly going to tell me that, is she? Not if Benjamin is her alibi. And not if she feels protective of him.”
“So, between what you felt when you spoke to Benjamin and now with Myrtle, and combine that with what Carl told me, I think we can safely assume Benjamin is indeed lying to cover for Myrtle.” At Katie’s confused expression, I remembered I hadn’t filled her in yet. “Oh, sorry. Carl suggested that he saw Benjamin with other people in the woods. Although, there was a gap in time that doesn’t make what he saw very helpful. But combined with what you’re feeling, I’d say it’s accurate.”
“But I still don’t think Myrtle killed Henry. Maybe Benjamin is just trying to protect her or her reputation, not helping her get away with murder.”
I filled her in on what I’d overheard from Owen’s phone call.
Katie looked less certain. “Whoever he was talking to is worried about the police having enough evidence to pin on Myrtle?”
“It seems that way, if I understood what he was saying. Granted, it was one side of the conversation, but it seemed pretty clear.” We had to be missing something important, although the simplest answer was that Myrtle was the one who killed Henry. Even if I didn’t understand why. “I think I’ve been assuming that the reason Henry got killed was somehow connected to the poaching. It doesn’t make sense for someone to kill Henry over his accusations about cheating over badges, even if he was obnoxious and abrasive.” I relayed the interactions I’d had with Alice and Petra. “Whatever’s going on, I think there’s a lot more to the Feathered Friends Brigade than weekly meetings and badges. Though I can’t tell if it’s one big thing that everyone’s in on, or whether several different secrets jumbled together ended up getting Henry killed.”
Bickering Birds Page 9