by Maddie Day
“So, what brings you over, honey?” Adele asked me as she laid a knobby, age-spotted hand on Samuel’s wrinkled, darker one, his pale pink fingernails neatly trimmed. He gave her the sweetest smile I’d seen in a long time.
I outlined Corrine’s harebrained scheme for the fund-raiser. “And she wants to do it tomorrow.” I shook my head.
“Hey, she can pull it off,” Adele said. “Corrine’s competent. So she wants me to donate wool? I can do that. Long as it’s tax deductible.”
“She said it’s for the animal shelter, so I guess it would be.”
Adele eyed me. “I’ll bet you really came over here to talk about your father.”
“Maybe. But we’ll do that later.” I glanced at Samuel.
“I can leave you girls alone.” He started to stand.
“No,” I said, holding up my hand. “Sit down. There’s nothing really to talk about. I mean, I found his e-mail address in Tuscany, Adele, but he hasn’t answered. As I’ve been telling myself, I lived without a father this long, I can keep doing it.” I blew air out through pursed lips, and then blinked hard as suddenly wet eyes threatened to make a liar out of me.
Adele stood and kneaded my shoulders for a minute, then she busied herself slicing the warm bread. She set the cutting board and a glass dish of butter on the table, along with knives and three small plates.
“Eat.”
We all fell to buttering and savoring the chewy, crusty slices in silence.
“I chatted with Corrine’s daughter, Danna, this afternoon,” I finally said. “Turns out she’s lived without a father most of her life, too. She said he died when she was a baby, so she never knew him.”
“He was killed, when, dear?” Samuel said to Adele.
“Sixteen, seventeen years ago? Danna must have been a li’l bit of a thing.”
“He was killed?” I stared at him. “You mean, murdered?”
“No, no, nothing like that. He was killed in a hunting accident. Fool rifle went off wrong.” Samuel made a tsking sound.
“There was some speculating at the time if Corrine had a hand in it. It was only the two of them out in the woods, you know.”
“Why would she kill her own husband?” I asked.
“Rumors do fly. He was reputed to be a bully and a philanderer.” Adele raised her eyebrows. “But we have something perfectly legal in this country called divorce. You don’t need to kill a husband to get rid of him. Anyway, nothing came of it. She was never charged with being involved.”
Chapter 22
It had turned into such a brilliant cool fall day I impulsively turned into the north entrance of Brown County State Park on my way home. My van clattered over the boards in the only double-tunnel covered bridge in the state. I flashed my yearly pass to the ranger at the gate booth, then parked near the Abe Martin Lodge and buttoned up my thigh-length black jacket, glad I’d worn sturdy sneakers. The parking lot was jammed, as it was every fall, but the park was big enough that I’d never found the trails too crowded, at least on weekdays. Sure, a murderer was still at large, but walking in a busy state park in broad daylight, with rangers and hikers aplenty, shouldn’t be a risky proposition.
I could spare time for a brisk walk before I needed to get home and do tomorrow’s prep. I set out on Trail One, inhaling the crisp air, gazing at sassafras trees turning from green to peachy orange, their lobe-like leaves hanging down as if sad they would soon lose their grip and become forest mulch. A gray, black, and white nuthatch scampered upside down on the smooth gray trunk of a beech, and a squirrel ran, cheek bulging, up the shaggy trunk of a shagbark hickory, depositing its winter dinner in a crevice and apparently ignoring the beauty of the tree’s brilliant yellow foliage.
A white-haired couple strode toward me in their sensible hiking boots, walking sticks swinging, cheeks pink from exertion in cool air. As I stepped back to let them pass, I returned the blue-eyed woman’s smile. But when I walked on, it stabbed me in the heart that my mom would never be a white-haired senior citizen. She wouldn’t get the chance to find love late in life. She would not ever know of my life, of my successes and failures, whether in business or in love.
I admonished myself to enjoy where I was right now. Mom would have wanted me to take in this brightly colored day, not to stew about the unfair timing of her death. I trod on until I came to the sign for Trail Two, which was a two-mile loop I knew passed both the stone Lower Shelter and the North Lookout Tower up on the hill, a classic Lincoln Log cabin built on top of a smaller limestone-brick base. If I hustled, I could get back in time, and a dose of fast exercise was just what the doctor ordered, anyway. Or would have if I had signed up with a doctor, which I’d never bothered to find here in Indiana, since I was blessed with the healthiest constitution of anyone I’d ever met. I never got sick.
Setting out on the trail, I heard a noise and whipped my head to the right. Had I been followed? Catching a glimpse of the white tails of two deer bounding away from me through the underbrush, I laughed. I kept walking and my tension began to ebb. I breathed deeply and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. I’d nearly reached the tower when a loud, sharp report sounded. I froze, then I heard two more shots. Hunting in the state park? That isn’t allowed, is it? I glanced down at my dark jacket and jeans. Great. I wasn’t wearing a thread of bright color. Now what? Thoughts of Danna’s father killed in a hunting accident crossed my mind.
Or maybe this wasn’t an illicit hunter. Maybe it was Stella’s murderer. I swore, turned around, and started to race back the way I’d come, patting my pocket for my phone as I ran. Except the only thing in there were the keys to my van. I swore again. The trail was empty of people. When I took a second to glance behind me, my toe caught on a root and I went sprawling, scraping my palm on a branch and whacking the other elbow on a stone hidden under the fallen leaves. I scrambled up, my heart beating so fast I could barely breathe, but I kept running until I switched back onto Trail One. I slowed to a fast, nervous stride until I was able to gulp a few deep breaths, and then I set to jogging again. I didn’t stop until I emerged in the parking lot. I leaned over, hands on my knees, panting.
“Miss? You all right?” a man’s voice asked.
I straightened to see a stocky, middle-aged park ranger walking toward me. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I said, “I heard shots in the woods. Are people allowed to hunt here?”
“What trail were you on, miss?” He pursed his lips.
“Trail Two. I was getting close to the Lookout Tower.”
“Oh, then it’s no problem.”
“Sure felt like a problem. Look at me. I’m not wearing orange. Shouldn’t I be able to take a hike in a public park without some fool hunter nearby?” My voice had risen so high, it cracked. I swallowed hard.
“You can calm down, now. It wasn’t no hunters. We have an after-school target practice class near there. Don’t worry a bit about it. It’s all controlled and there aren’t no trails behind where the targets are set out.”
Target practice. By children. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, then opened them and tried to smile at him. “Well, thanks, then.”
“You have a good day, now.”
After I arrived home, I parked by the side and let myself into my apartment. Birdy wove through my legs, chirping away, as I tried to walk down the hall. I finally picked him up, laid him on my shoulder, and stroked his head as I walked so I wouldn’t trip over him and break my neck. I set him down in front of his empty bowl. No wonder he was being so cuddly. After I scooped a cupful of dry food into it, he fell to munching and I fell into a kitchen chair.
What a day of discovery. Realizing the black car was Ed’s. Reading in the Sentinel that, in their eyes, I might as well be arrested for murder. Hearing from Buck about the eyewitness report of someone going into Stella’s house. Agreeing to the fund-raiser and then learning of Ed’s trouble with the Board of Health. Finding out Danna and I both grew up fatherless. And seeing firsthand evidence of Adel
e’s boyfriend. The only thing I hadn’t learned was how my father felt about me. Which couldn’t have happened, I realized, since I hadn’t told him I was his daughter. And now it was nighttime in Italy again.
I stood, planning to take a good long shower and get ready for my dinner date. At least that made me smile. I hadn’t had a chance to relax with Jim since Monday night. Maybe we could suspend all talk of murder and suspects and simply enjoy ourselves.
Halfway to the bathroom, I heard a noise from the direction of the store and froze. Nobody should be in my store. Nobody. I reversed tracks to the kitchen and retrieved my phone from my bag. Then I crept toward the connecting door, in which I’d installed a one-way mirror with the window on the side of my apartment. I hadn’t really thought through why, but I had imagined I might have a need to observe what was going on in the restaurant without being seen. Other mirrors were installed around the store because I liked the way it reflected back light and I’d noticed customers liked to look in them, too.
I peered into the window, but I didn’t see anyone skulking about. My view didn’t reach to all the corners and behind shelves and counters, though. Damn it. Should I call 911? I wasn’t about to go in there myself, not in a county where the majority of adults toted guns. My heart was a giant jackhammer in my chest. Good thing I hadn’t poured more than a short shot of that liquor Adele had offered.
I got real close to the window and tilted my head, trying to see if I could spot anyone at the far edges of its view. Nothing. Maybe the noise was from the wind, which hadn’t let up its gusting all day. Could be a false alarm. I still wasn’t going in there until I thought it was safe. I retreated to the kitchen and grabbed my keys off the hook. I made my way quietly outside around to the front. I could check out the rest of the interior from the big windows facing the street. If I didn’t see anybody, I’d go in that way.
An unfamiliar car was parked out front. Huh? If someone had broken in, would they leave their car sitting there for everyone in town to see? Speaking of that, a Jaguar rolled by, giving a beep as it passed. I cringed, but I gave a little wave to Corrine in the driver’s seat. So much for sneaking up, unnoticed. I was still going to try. I tiptoed up the side stairs of the covered front porch running the width of the building and pressed my nose against the glass farthest from the door, my heart mimicking an Indy 500 race car revving up for the start of the race.
But I was peering right smack-dab into the back of the six-foot-high freestanding drinks cooler. I moved to the next window, which unfortunately was not as clean as it should have been, since I’d run out of time before the grand opening and never got around to washing all the outside glass. I rubbed a round spot clean, but I still couldn’t spy anyone.
“Robbie? What are you doing?”
“Yikes!” I whipped my head to the right. “What in—”
The screen door slapped closed behind Phil, who stood with head atilt staring at me, two empty baking sheets in one hand.
“What in what?” he asked. “What are you doing out here?”
“Jeez, Phil. You about gave me a heart attack.” I sank into the closest rocking chair, patting my chest. “I thought I heard a burglar in the store. Or worse, a murderer. I was trying to look in the window.” I obviously needed to start paying more attention to my surroundings. He was the fourth person to sneak up on me in probably that many days, or fewer.
He snorted. “So now your dessert man is a thief?” He held up the pans. “Just dropping off your order for the weekend, ma’am.”
“But how did you get in?”
He jangled a bunch of keys with his other hand. “With the key you gave me months ago? You don’t remember?”
I squinted and wrinkled my nose. “Oh. Maybe I do remember.” I parceled out the words like I was a really slow person dealing cards.
He laughed and sat in the next chair over, which complained with a mighty creak.
“Thanks for bringing the desserts. Good thing I didn’t call the cops, right?”
“You could say that.” He rocked and creaked back and forth. “I phoned and texted you a bunch of times, but you didn’t pick up.”
I checked my phone, which I still clutched in one hand. Sure enough, the volume was completely off. The voice mail icon and the text icons were both lit up, though, and the tiny red light in the corner of the display blinked insistently.
“I was over at Adele’s.” I looked at him. “Did you know your grandfather and Adele were hanging out?”
“No, but he’s been looking awfully cheerful lately. He even asked me to go clothes shopping with him in Bloomington. Said he needed to update his wardrobe.”
“I apparently surprised them both at Adele’s this afternoon. All rosy-cheeked and dressed kind of slapdash.” I waved a hand at the car in front of the store. “But that’s not your car, is it?”
He shook his head. “Swapped out with my mom. Mine’s in the shop.”
“Big to-do here tomorrow night, did you hear?”
“Corrine’s fund-raiser?” he asked.
“Crazy. Got anything you want to donate? And will you come?”
“I can do up a certificate for a month of Friday desserts,” he said. “Delivered with a song. How about that? And a couple extra trays of brownies for the event itself.”
I laughed. “I like it. All of it.”
Gazing down the street, he stopped rocking. “Speaking of the police.” He pointed.
I let my eyes follow where his finger pointed. A South Lick police car drove toward us, although not with all the bells and whistles lit up. “This better not be what I’m afraid it is.” I shivered.
“I read the Sentinel online today. Agree. It better not be,” Phil said, his eyes glued to the cruiser.
But the car didn’t slow at the store. We watched as it kept on going.
“Did you see that?” he asked, with a sudden turn of his head toward me.
I nodded, keeping my gaze on the police car until it turned the corner a few blocks into town, in the direction of the police station.
Wanda was driving, and Don O’Neill sat in the car. Not in the front seat, either.
Chapter 23
I locked my back door at two minutes before six o’clock and hustled down the drive, clutching a bottle of wine. It was only a ten-minute walk to Jim’s condo downtown, but I hated to cut time close like this. Although, even if I was late, I doubted Jim would have a dog in that hunt. I wore a pair of jeans I thought flattered my posterior, tucked into knee-high leather boots, and finally decided on a tunic-length soft sweater in a deep rose after trying on and discarding nearly every sweater I owned. My hair, which I’d rearranged about sixteen times, now fell in loose curls on the shoulders of my jacket.
I’d never been to Jim’s home before. His law office? Sure, a dozen times. He’d held the closing for the store there. Before then, we’d met to arrange the purchase details; and after that, to get all the permits sorted out, with no help from Stella. But I’d passed his building bunches of times, the one he’d pointed out on our way home from the roadhouse on our date that seemed like weeks ago instead of only six days. The downstairs of his building housed the consignment shop, as well as Wheelworks, the bike shop where I left my cycle for tune-ups.
I walked fast, even though I’d rather be cycling. I was overdue for a long ride. I got all kinds of itchy when I didn’t get out on the roads for a few days in a row. I could have ridden to Adele’s this afternoon, but I’d thought it might end up making me late for dinner. Tonight I didn’t want to ride home in the dark with wine in my system. Not another soul was out, not even on this stretch of Main Street. South Lick shut up like a hermit crab at the end of the business day. There were only a couple of restaurants to draw people out, and the one bar was on the other side of town.
So it looked like Don was in custody. He must have been the person the eyewitness saw going into Stella’s house before Stella was killed. I wished he weren’t the murderer, but wishing didn’t have any pl
ace in a crime investigation. At least the authorities focusing on him should take the pressure off me.
Cutting through a narrow path running alongside the bank, I took the shortcut down the alley behind the row of shops. The sun hadn’t yet set, although clouds were blowing back in and the light was dim between the backs of the three-story buildings on either side. Glancing up, I saw lights on in a couple of windows up high, but there weren’t any windows at street level, only locked metal doors.
I heard a rustling behind me and checked over my shoulder, but it was only dry leaves twirling in the wind. Maybe walking alone in an alley with a murderer on the loose isn’t such a hot idea. No, I told myself, Don is sitting safely in a jail cell. Or is he? But what if Buck was wrong? Maybe he’d only brought Don in for questioning and then let him go. I scrabbled in my bag for the reassuring feel of my phone, extracting it and sliding it into my jacket pocket. Anyway, it wasn’t a very long alley.
I’d almost reached Walnut, the cross street I was heading for, when a loud, high-pitched noise zinged past me. A puff of red dust popped out of the bricks in the wall to my left. I stared at it and swore as I broke into a run. Another shot landed in the pavement where my foot had rested a second before. Yelling, I didn’t take the time to see where it came from. I ran as fast as my short legs could take me, not stopping until I was in the clear, smack in the middle of Walnut.
The shots stopped. I stared back at the alley, but no one emerged. If somebody was shooting at me, I was in big trouble. And this wasn’t any after-school target practice, either.
A car honked and I levitated like a kangaroo, emitting a screech as I did so. I was standing in the middle of the street, after all. I gave a weak wave at the impatient SUV and made my way to the far sidewalk. My legs barely held me up, and my brain was as full of Jell-O as my legs.
I should call the police. And hurry to Jim’s. No reason not to do both, I finally told myself. I pressed 911 and set off at the fastest stride I could muster.