“Weren’t you supposed to have dinner with Dean tonight?” she asked.
I frowned in confusion, then gasped, remembering that I had a date with the sheriff. “Oh, no!” I looked around the tent and spotted Dean sitting at a table near the front of the tent. “Has he been waiting long?”
“Nah. Just about fifteen minutes or so.” Jennifer spun me around and whipped off my apron, vest, and tie, and fluffed my hair. Then she slid a red cashmere cardigan over my shoulders and gave me a gentle shove. “You’re done for the night. Enjoy it.”
I gave Jennifer a quick hug and grinned. “Thanks. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“You’d better. I need that sweater back, too, by the way.”
I grinned at her before cutting through the crowd to Dean’s table. He stood and pulled out my chair. As I sat down, I noted with interest that he wasn’t wearing his uniform. Instead, he had on a nice black cable-knit sweater over a pair of faded jeans and black cowboy boots.
“You look nice,” I said.
“Thanks,” he said, one corner of his mouth curling with a smile. “So do you.” He swallowed hard and looked out over the crowd. “Busy tonight.”
“Everyone in town is here, I think.” I glanced out into the tent as well and spotted Mom and Adele still sitting at the table they’d been at an hour ago. Luke and Lorelei Williams had joined them at some point during the evening. They were all staring at Dean and I. I could feel flames rise up in my cheeks. I gave Mom a discrete glare before turning back to Dean. I found him staring at me as well. I smiled shyly as I raised a hand and tucked an errant strand of hair behind my ear.
He cleared his throat and looked away. “What’s good tonight?” he asked, looking down at the centerpiece of primroses and daisies that lay on the table between them.
“Everything. Jennifer went all out. She made her usual burgers and chicken sandwiches, but there’s also Mark’s grandfather’s pulled pork and a spicy, citrusy brisket, too. And of course all the usual sides—potato salad, macaroni salad, corn on the cob, coleslaw, tomato salad. Oh, and the desserts, too. Strawberry shortcake, strawberry pie, lemon bars. Like I said, everything is good.”
One of Jennifer’s servers arrived at the table. Dean ordered a brisket sandwich with a side of potato salad and an ear of roasted corn, and I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich with coleslaw and tomato salad. Once our server left, a somewhat awkward silence descended over the table.
“So did you get a chance to talk to those witnesses?” I asked.
“Yes, but they didn’t give us anything new. The servers from the Raven and Fox Pub didn’t remember seeing Barry. That’s not too strange, though. They were really busy during the SummerFest. The chef swears he didn’t use wild carrot in the salad. In fact, he doesn’t use anything like that ever. And no one else remembers seeing Barry arguing with anyone—”
“Except me.”
“Yes, except you. But you and I weren’t in the tent when Barry got his food, so we don’t know if Viki had the opportunity to slip something into it.”
“But she could have, right?” I pressed.
“Sure. But so could have anyone else in the tent.”
“But Viki had the motive—the blackmail—and the opportunity. She was in the tent with Barry.”
“But how would she have known about hemlock? You two never seemed particularly friendly, so she didn’t pick up the knowledge from you.”
“You’re right. She never showed an interest in what I do, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t paying attention whenever Mom and I talked. And she was friendly with Bekah. Maybe that’s where she learned of it.”
“Another thing I’ll need to talk to Bekah about tomorrow. We have an appointment, by the way. She said she works in the morning but felt pretty confident that you’d give her a little time off to come down to the station and talk with me.”
“Of course. Is ten o’clock okay?” Dean nodded, and I made a mental note to close the retail space while Bekah was gone. “I saw Gordon tonight,” I said, changing the topic.
“Oakes?”
“Yes. Viki’s boyfriend. He was making out with some blonde girl. Viki’s not even been buried yet.”
“So?”
“So? He doesn’t seem particularly upset that Viki’s dead. Have you talked to him yet?”
“Not yet. He’s not high on my list.”
“Well, he should be.”
“Bryony,” he said, and his tone made me think he was all out of patience with me. But I didn’t care. This was important. I just knew that Gordon had something to do with all of this. “I don’t need you—a civilian, I might remind you—to tell me how to do my job. If I uncover something that makes me think Gordon is involved, I’ll call him in for questioning. Until then, let me handle this, okay?”
“Fine. But what if it was his voice I heard on Viki’s message? She called me at nine-thirty. That’s about when Doc said she was killed. You should really talk to him.” I looked away from him as my arms came up and crossed over my chest. Dean sighed and shook his head. I couldn’t help it; I knew I was acting petulantly, but his rebuke had stung.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll consider it.”
The waiter arrived with our meals, and a strained silence descended over the table as we ate. After we’d finished our main courses and were waiting for coffee and strawberry shortcakes with fresh whipped cream, Dean asked, his voice tentative, “Would you be up for a wagon ride after dessert?”
A slow smile spread across my face, and I nodded. “Absolutely. That sounds really nice.”
He smiled back, clearly pleased with himself for asking. Coffee and shortcakes arrived, and we ate them slowly, savoring every bite. Jennifer had outdone herself with the food tonight. Everything I’d tasted had been the best cooking she’d ever done. Deann and I left right after our dishes had been cleared and joined the short queue for the wagons. Ours was pulled by a matched pair of russet-coated draft horses with white-blond manes and tails. We sat side by side on one of the short benches in the back of the wagon, drifts of straw floating around our ankles like thin strands of gold.
The night was cool but comfortable, and the skies above the village were perfectly clear and studded with bright stars. Dean pointed out constellations for me: Taurus, Cassiopeia, and Orion. The wagon rumbled down Saxon Avenue, turned on to Blue Spruce Street, turned again onto Clear Creek Avenue, then onto Ponderosa Street before heading back to Saxon.
When we arrived once more at Civic Center Park, Dean helped me down from the wagon and held my hand for a moment too long. We stood inches apart, eyes locked, and for a brief, beautiful moment, I thought Dean might kiss me. He was distracted, however, by Gordon Oakes’s sudden appearance. Gordon was crossing the street, leaving the park, hand in hand with the blonde girl he’d been kissing earlier that night.
He dropped my hand and flashed me a quick smile. “Thanks for dinner and for the wagon ride, Bryony. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned on his heel and dove into the crowd, hot on Gordon’s heels.
“Bye,” I said but was certain that Dean hadn’t heard me. With a heavy sigh, I turned for the parking lot and my car. Minutes later, I arrived at a cold, dark house. After locking up, I headed up the stairs to my bedroom. The bedside lamp was on, just as I’d left it before going to the bonfire. Beryl and Lily were curled up together in the middle of my bed, and Beryl’s loud, rumbling purr made a nice harmony with Lily’s softer, more ragged purr. The noise filled the room when they saw me.
“You’re both so sweet,” I told them and gave them a few scratches beneath their chins. Beryl squeezed his eyes shut at me, looking decidedly pleased with himself, while Lily made her strange little trilling noise and pushed her face along my thumb. I changed into my pajamas and slid into bed, curled around the cat’s warm, purring bodies.
CHAPTER NINE
I went in early to work on Thursday morning. Bekah’s questioning had gone smoothly the day before, but unfortunately, she’d been no h
elp to the investigation. She told Dean that she couldn’t remember ever discussing hemlock with Viki, but didn’t discount the possibility. They had occasionally talked about Bekah’s work, but there hadn’t been an in-depth discussion about hemlock specifically that she could recall.
After some work in the stillroom and seeing a few patients, we hit a lull. I sent Bekah back to my office to do some studying for her upcoming certification tests. She was nervous about them, but she had an amazing grasp of the material and a sharp mind. I told her that she’d do fine and would probably even get a higher score than I had.
Just before lunch, Tiffany Bright came into the store. “Hi, Bryony,” she called out with her usual brilliant smile. She was dressed in a deep purple suit with a short skirt, her golden-blonde hair pulled back into a French braid.
“Hey, Tiffany,” I said, seeing her in a new light now that I knew her secret. “Can I help you find something?”
“Yeah, I’m looking for a gift for my boyfriend.” She flashed me a smile, but I detected a bit of nervousness in it. “He hasn’t been sleeping very well lately.”
Oh, I’ll be he wasn’t. Was he worried about a divorce in his very near future? I left the register area and moved over to one of the shelves that displayed our stock of pre-blended teas. One of them was a variation of the one I’d made for Viki. I took a box of it off the shelf and handed it to Tiffany. “This is our best-selling sleep aid.” I paused for a moment before saying, “Is Paul allergic to ragweed?”
Tiffany’s mouth opened in shock, and she gaped at me for a long moment. “What? P-Paul? My boss? I’m not... He’s not...” She closed her mouth, and her pretty blue eyes filled with tears. “How did you know?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said with compassion, reaching out to take Tiffany’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze. I felt like a heel for making the girl cry.
She yanked her hand out of mine and crossed her arms over her stomach. “Did Viki tell you?” she asked, her voice sharp. “She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone. I’m glad she’s dead.” Her eyes grew wide once more, and she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, no,” she moaned. “I didn’t mean that. I just... It’s just all so awful.” She shook her head and began crying once more.
Way to go, Bryony, I said to myself. “Come into my office, Tiffany. I’ll make some tea, and we can talk if you want.” She nodded and followed in my wake.
Bekah was sitting at my desk, her nose in a pile of books. She glanced up, saw Tiffany’s tears, and closed the books. “I’ll go up front,” she said, rising from my desk and giving Tiffany a soft, compassionate smile. She left my office and closed the door behind her. Bekah was going to make an amazing herbalist.
I pointed to one of the chairs across from my desk and said to Tiffany, “Have a seat here. I’ll put the kettle on.”
Tiffany dropped into the chair and reached for a tissue from the box on my desk. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “This is all such a mess,” she said, sitting back and clutching the crumpled tissue in her hand.
I made some tea—catmint, chamomile, valerian, and hops for Tiffany, lapsang souchong for me—and then settled down at my desk. “How did it start?”
She took a sip of the tea and sighed. “The affair or what Viki was doing?”
“Either. Both. I’m here to listen to whatever you want to talk about.”
She gave me a tentative smile. “The affair started when I was still in real estate school. Paul was one of the guest speakers, and I was attracted to him right away. We were careful not to carry on in town or when we were around other people, but I guess Viki found out anyway.”
“When did she first approach you?”
“About a year ago. She brought Paul proof of the affair—photos of us coming out of a room together at the Lodgepole in Idaho Springs, photos of us kissing at the Vintage Moose where we’d meet on Saturdays sometimes. Then she approached me and showed me the same photos.”
“How much did she ask for?”
“At first, it was $1,000 a week. But after three months or so, she started demanding $2,500.”
“From both of you?” Tiffany nodded. I whistled softly and did some quick mental calculations. Viki was making close to $150,000 a year, and that was just from Tiffany and Paul. Who knows how many other people she had on the hook? The strange thing was, Viki never gave any sort of indication of her wealth. She rented her house, didn’t drive a fancy car, didn’t wear expensive jewelry or clothing. I wondered where all the money was going. Maybe her partner—if she had one, that is—took it all.
“I know. It’s stupid, and we should have gone to the sheriff about it. But if Alicia finds out, Paul will lose everything—his house, his kids, his business. It’s all in Alicia’s name.” Tiffany’s tears started anew. I handed her a tissue, trying hard not to feel disgusted at this situation—both Viki’s actions as well as Tiffany and Paul’s.
“How did you pay her?”
“Every Thursday, we were supposed to leave the cash inside a particular fake rock in Saxon Lake Park.”
“Thursday?” Tiffany nodded. That was Viki’s regular day off. It made sense. “Did Viki ever mention a partner?”
“No, never. We only ever dealt with Viki.”
I sighed unhappily and gave Tiffany a level look. She cringed and looked away. “You have to talk to Sheriff Jensen,” I said. “And you have to stop seeing Paul. He won’t be the bigger person, so you have to. It’s not just you two your affair is hurting. It’s Alicia and Taylor and Nichole, too,” I told her, mentioning the Holmes’s children.
“I know,” she said, fighting back tears. She took a deep breath and stood up. “I’ll go see the sheriff right now. And I’ll... I’ll break it off with Paul tonight. Thanks, Bryony.”
I stood up, too, and moved around my desk to give her a hug. “It’ll be alright. Here,” I said, picking up a box of the same tea blend I’d made for her and handing it to her. “On the house. One cup every night before bed. It’ll help. And come see me in a week or so, okay?” She nodded, and I walked her out. I stood by the large front window and watched her drive in the direction of the sheriff’s office, then dug my phone out of my pocket and called Dean.
“Jensen,” Dean answered. He sounded curt. I worried that I was interrupting something.
“Um, hi, Dean,” I said, hesitation robbing me of my typical cheerful greeting. “Bad time?”
“Hey, Bryony. No, it’s not. I’m just driving back up from the CBI in Lakewood. What’s up?”
“Well, I was wondering if you had any plans for lunch?”
“Nope. Wanna meet at the Red Dragon?”
“Of course,” I answered with a grin. “What time?”
“Let’s say forty-five minutes. Sound good?”
“Perfect. See you then.”
We hung up, and I busied myself with more work in the stillroom, this time mixing goat’s milk, honey, and oatmeal for a skin-soothing bath. At one, I set out for the Red Dragon Chinese restaurant after turning the sign in the shop’s window from Open to Closed. Bekah was headed to Sunny Side Up for a Monte Cristo and some of the best fries in Colorado. Since it was a beautiful day, I decided to walk the three blocks between the Jørgensen Building and Ponderosa Avenue, where the restaurant was located.
Once more, I felt someone watching me. I stopped and turned in a slow circle, scrutinizing the buildings, street corners, and alleys around me. The only thing that aroused my suspicion was a white van that turned left off of Saxon Avenue just past my shop. It seemed familiar. Who did I know in a white van? No one sprang to mind. Maybe Dean knew. I’d ask him at lunch.
Dean was already there, seated at a booth in the back of the restaurant, close to the huge all-you-can-eat buffet. He was nursing a plate of spring rolls and a small cup of the restaurant’s famous jasmine tea. I scooted in across from him and poured myself a cup of tea. Dean offered his plate of spring rolls to me without a word, and I took one with a smile, pausing only to dip it into a little
ramekin of duck sauce before biting off the end.
Once we’d finished with the spring rolls in companionable silence, I followed Dean through the buffet line, piling sweet and sour pork, house fried rice, spare ribs, and more spring rolls onto my plate. I returned to our booth, balancing a laden plate and a bowl of egg flower soup in an amazing feat of acrobatics.
We ate in silence for a while, until both of our plates were mostly empty, and we’d ordered another pot of tea. “Do you know anyone in town who drives a white van?”
“White van?” He frowned in thought. “Some of the service people with the utility companies drive white vans. Why?”
“I feel like one has been following me for the past day or so.”
“Following you?”
“I’ve felt eyes on me a couple of times, but I haven’t seen anyone around. Today, I saw a van turning past the shop.” I shrugged. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
“Get a plate number for me the next time you see it.”
“I will.” I fell silent and then said carefully, “So, I... uh... Well, I talked to Tiffany Bright today.”
Dean set his fork down with deliberate slowness and fixed me with a look that had me wincing. “What did you talk about?” he asked in a level voice.
“Viki. The... The, uh...” I glanced around the restaurant and found it mostly empty. I leaned forward and lowered my voice just the same. “The blackmail.”
“You talked to her about the case? After you promised not to speak to anyone?”
“Yes. It just... It just sorta happened. She came into the shop looking for something for her boyfriend. I asked if Paul was okay and... Well, it just went downhill from that.”
His mouth compressed into a thin, tight line and the muscles at the corners of his mouth bunched. “Tell me what you two discussed. Exactly.”
I repeated the conversation for him as best as I could recall, ending with, “Tiffany said that if Alicia finds out about Paul’s affair, she’ll get everything in the divorce. The kids, their house, Paul’s business.” I gave Dean a significant look.
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