“No, Paul’s got a rock-solid alibi. He was in Denver for Viki’s murder.” He sighed and shook his head. “I can’t believe you talked to her about this. After you promised. But at least you got her to agree to talk to my department about things. But don’t think that gets you off the hook for this.” His eyes went hard. “I’m really kind of angry with you right now.”
“I’m sorry. I just... People talk to me, you know? And I wanted... Well, I just wanted to help you.”
He nodded and picked up his fork to start eating again. I followed suit, and gradually, the silence changed from awkward to simply companionable. I breathed a sigh of relief and poured us both some more tea. “What about Gordon Oakes?” I asked. I had a strong feeling that Gordon had murdered Viki and maybe Barry, too. He was probably also Viki’s partner in the blackmail scheme.
Dean looked up and raised a brow. I gave him an innocent smile. He rolled his eyes but answered anyway. “Can’t find him. After our wagon ride, I caught up to him in the parking lot and scheduled a formal interview with him for Tuesday morning down at the station. He never showed up. I called his employer, and they show him out in the field, visiting customers, but no one can raise him on the phone or radio.”
“What does he do?”
“Cable installer. Drives his own van.”
“A white van?” I felt a frisson of fear slide down my spine.
“I don’t know. I’ll check into it when I get back to the station.” He gave me a level look. “You cannot, under any circumstances, tell anyone about any of this. Do you understand me, Bryony?”
I nodded in understanding. “I swear I won’t tell a soul.” He gave me a disbelieving look but didn’t say anything.
After finishing everything on our plates, we both went back for seconds. As we ate, we chatted about mundane things—the wonderful weather, the successful barbecue and bake sale, the other upcoming SummerFest events. At one point, I almost asked Dean to the dance on Saturday night but lost my nerve at the last moment. I experienced a crippling moment of self-doubt and remained mum. I just hoped that Mom and Jennifer never got word of this lunch. They’d give me such grief over chickening out.
When we were finished eating, Dean walked me back to the Jørgensen Building. Outside of Taylor & Sons, we peered in through the window and waved at Mom and Stephen. Dean turned to me and said, “No more investigating, okay? Stay put tonight.”
“I can’t.”
“What? Bryony, you can’t keep poking—”
“It’s Thursday,” I said, holding my hands up to mollify him. “Mom and I have a standing dinner date.”
“Oh. Well, that’s okay. But you can’t go anywhere else. Alright? Promise me.”
“I promise that I will only go to Shoomaker's tonight for dinner with my mom. I will then immediately return home. I will not pass Go, I will not collect $200.”
He chuckled. “I’ll see you later then. Be good.” He turned and left. I ducked into my shop and stood just inside the front door, watching as Dean walked back towards the restaurant where, I presumed, he’d parked his truck.
“He is really cute, isn’t he?”
I jumped, startled by Jennifer’s sudden presence at elbow. “You have got to stop doing that to me!” I said as I swatted her arm. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Dropping Stephen off for his shift at Taylor & Sons before I head next door. Got a date?”
“With Dean?”
“No, with the Pillsbury Doughboy. Yes, with Dean.”
I shrugged and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “Not with him. It’s Thursday.”
Jennifer laughed and shook her head. “Ah, right. With Glynis. That’s so romantic.” I gave her a major case of side-eye, and she snickered. “Call me tomorrow after your not-date?”
“Of course. See you later.” I gave her a wave as she left and I headed towards the back of the store. I settled down at my computer and went to Google’s search page. I was curious about Barry and Viki’s lives and decided to Google them. It wasn’t exactly poking my nose into Dean’s investigation, was it? I mean, I wasn’t out in the world, asking people questions in person. I was in the cyber world, accessing public information that anyone could find, right? Right. I was not violating Dean’s order not to interfere. He couldn’t get mad at me for doing this.
In short order, I discovered that Barry had been a criminal defense lawyer for ten years until changing direction and becoming an estate planner and tax lawyer twenty years ago. I thought that was a bizarre shift but couldn’t find any information on why he had made such a drastic decision.
Information on Viki was even scanter. She’d grown up in Fort Collins, dropped out of CSU when she was just a year shy of graduating, and moved to Saxon Lake the same year. She’d worked at the bookshop ever since. She didn’t have a criminal record, had never been sued, nor had she ever sued anyone. Her life had been pretty boring and normal until her sudden, violent death. Oh, and the whole blackmail thing.
I closed down my computer and went back out to the front of the shop. Bekah and I handled the influx of customers and patients over the next few hours, and I even had some down time to work in the stillroom, grinding more herbs for pills, mixing teas, and hand-dipping candles that had been scented with eucalyptus and grapefruit essential oils.
We closed the shop at five, and I sent Bekah home. I stayed behind to do the books and prepare the daily deposit. At exactly 5:45, there was a knock at the back door. I jumped and made a little noise of fright. I found my cell phone and dialed 911 before approaching the door.
“Who’s there?” My thumb hovered over the Call button on my phone.
“It’s Dean. Can I come in?”
I nearly fell over with relief. As I deleted the call, I opened the door and found Dean standing there, hat in hand. I smiled and stepped back. “What’s up?” I asked as he came into the shop.
“Well, I’m headed over to Gordon’s house. I’m doing a wellness check since no one has seen or heard from him in a couple of days. And I thought since chances are better than good that you’d eventually go over there, that I’d keep you safe and invite you to come with me. So I can keep an eye on you.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Right. I’ll come. Just give me a second to finish up here.” I slipped the deposit into my bag, turned off most of the lights in the shop, and left through the back door, making sure to lock it behind me. Dean helped me climb inside his giant department-issued pickup and then slid in beside me. Once I was settled, he pulled out into traffic and turned the truck towards Cottonwood Street.
“Where does Gordon live?” I asked.
“On Penstemon. He’s renting Patty Wilson’s carriage house.”
“Why are you really letting me come with you?” I asked after a short though comfortable silence. “I mean, I’m a civilian. I don’t know the first thing about crime detection or crime solving or whatever. I make tea for a living. And don’t tell me it’s just to keep me safe and out of trouble. I don’t buy it.”
Dean smirked at me sidelong. “Well,” he began, “you have a very sharp mind. You see things that I wouldn’t have picked up on, stuff neither of my deputies would have picked up on either.” He shrugged. “And as you said at lunch, people talk to you. People who probably wouldn’t talk to me. So. You’ve helped the investigation. That tip about the hemlock was helpful, even if it didn’t lead anywhere immediately. You turned me onto the fact that Viki acted surprised that Barry had been killed. You found the blackmail lists and Viki. And you got Tiffany to make a formal statement about the blackmail. Before she talked to you, she refused to say anything officially to the department.”
“So I’ve really helped?”
“You’ve really helped. And while I hope you understand that I can’t tell you everything that’s going on with the investigation, and I really dislike you investigating on your own, I do feel like I can discuss some aspects of it with you. Maybe something will occur to you that will
give us a new angle to look into.”
“Wow. That makes me feel... Well, it’s just nice to hear.” I knew I was grinning like a fool and probably glowing so brightly, I could be seen from Denver, but I didn’t much care.
We soon arrived at Patty Wilson’s restored Queen Anne home and pulled down the long gravel driveway towards the small, one-story carriage house in the back. Patty was standing on the carriage house’s stoop and waved when she spotted us. We climbed out of the truck and Patty approached.
“Mrs. Wilson,” Dean said, nodding and tipping his hat to her.
“Hello, Sheriff Jensen. Bryony. What a surprise to see you.”
“Hello, Patty,” I said. “Dean’s letting me tag along in case Gordon needs help.”
“Oh, that’s a relief. I’m just so worried about him, what with Viki being gone and all.”
“When was the last time you saw Mr. Oakes?” Dean asked Patty. I fished in my purse to make certain I had my fully stocked first aid kit inside it.
“For certain? Tuesday night. I saw him at the barbecue.”
“And nothing since then?”
“No, but that’s not so strange. It’s rare I see him,” Patty explained. “He’s a good tenant. Pays his rent on time, never throws loud parties, never complains about things. He’s very quiet. The only time I know he’s there is when I see his van in the drive here.”
“What color is that van?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s white, with those smoked windows and the company’s logo on the side.”
I locked eyes with Dean. He nodded in understanding before turning to Patty and saying, “Mind if we go in now?”
“Well, you’re really not supposed to without a warrant,” Patty said slowly. “But with all the deaths lately, I suppose I can let you in if you promise not to touch anything.”
“Promise.” Dean stepped back and allowed Patty to open the carriage house’s front door.
“Stay out here,” Dean said to me before going inside. His expression brooked no debate.
I nodded. “I’ll keep Patty company,” I said and crossed my heart again. He smirked at me and shook his head in consternation.
After Dean disappeared into the gloom of the small house, Patty turned to me and asked, “Do you think Gordon has anything to do with Barry and Viki’s murders?”
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I just don’t know either. You always hear neighbors say after someone’s gone crazy that he was so quiet and never bothered anyone. I guess you really do need to worry about the quiet ones.”
We continued waiting until Dean reemerged from the depths of the house. “No one’s here,” he said. “His closet’s empty, drawers pulled out and emptied, shoes and hat and coat are gone. I think he’s in the wind.”
“Is he an official suspect?” Patty asked. “Did he do it? Did he kill those people?” Her hands were shaking, and I worried about her. She’d been to see me a few times for her high blood pressure.
“I don’t know,” Dean answered, not unkindly. “Not yet. I’m officially naming him a person of interest in Viki’s murder, though. Probably Barry’s, too.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
“A person of interest is someone we want to talk to because he or she’s got information about a case. A suspect is somebody we think may be involved in the crime.” I nodded my understanding, and he turned aside and radioed McGill to ask him to prepare a search warrant request. “I’ll meet you at the station,” he said to McGill. “I’ve got to make a stop before I can head over to Judge Bartlett’s to get him to sign the warrant. And send Nichols over to stand watch at Oakes’s place, too.”
“Ten-four, Sheriff,” was McGill’s static-filled reply.
Dean turned to Patty and said, “Make sure no one enters this building until Deputy Nichols arrives. She’ll be along shortly.”
“Yes, Sheriff.” Patty looked pale.
I took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, Patty,” I said. “Dean and his deputies will keep you safe. You go on home and lock up once you’re inside. If you feel faint or if you’ve got a racing pulse, you call me immediately, okay?”
Patty nodded and headed across the neat lawn to her own home. I watched as she turned on lights in every room and checked window locks and drew the curtains.
“Come on,” Dean said. “I’ll drop you off at your car.”
I climbed into Dean’s truck, and we spent the rest of the drive in silence. Once we arrived at the Jørgensen Building, Dean said, “Be careful, Bryony. We don’t know where Oakes is or what he has planned. If he’s the one who’s been watching you, he might have it in his head to hurt you because he thinks you know something.”
I shivered with fear. I took a deep breath, though, and squared my shoulders. “I’ll be fine, Dean. Thanks for your concern, though.”
He nodded and waited until I headed into Shoomaker's. I heard the powerful engine roar and the squealing of tires as he raced back to the station. Spotting Mom sitting at our usual table, I made a beeline for a chair and sat down hard in it.
“Are you okay, darling?” Mom asked, her eyes worried.
“Yeah. Just...” I shook my head, trailing off as I remembered my promise to Dean. “Just a long day.”
“Hey, stranger!” Jennifer called out from the counter when she spotted me. “You want your usual, ladies?”
“Yes, please, Jennifer,” Mom said with a smile.
“Okay. One green chile chicken sandwich, fries, and a lime Coke for Bryony, and a Reuben, side salad, and vanilla root beer for Glynis. Coming right up!” Jen disappeared into the kitchen. I could soon hear her humming as she prepared our food.
I leaned forward toward Mom and said in a hushed voice, “Since this’ll be all over the town by tomorrow, I feel like I can share this with you now.”
Mom’s brows flew up, and she leaned closer to me. “What? You and Dean are getting married?”
Not bothering to respond, I said, “Dean suspects Gordon Oakes of Viki’s murder. Maybe Barry’s, too.”
“Gordon Oakes? Viki’s boyfriend?”
I nodded. “They were blackmailing a bunch of people around town.”
“Blackmail? Who?”
“I can’t say. But I’m sure it’ll be in the paper next week. The whole thing.”
Mom looked disappointed but shrugged it off. She seemed happy with what little I could tell her. She had a scoop that no one else had, and that had to make a consummate gossip delighted. We ate our meals, split a piece of Jennifer’s sinful pecan pie, and said our goodbyes.
There was no cat puke waiting for me anywhere when I got home, nor was there blood or tufts of fur that indicated the cats weren’t getting along. I found Beryl curled up in the cast-iron tub again, while Lily was sprawled out on my bed. She watched me from between slitted eyes as I changed into my pajamas. I refreshed their kibble and water and made some cocoa to accompany a batch of oatmeal-raisin cookies I’d baked the week before. I cuddled with the cats on the couch as we watched His Girl Friday. Thoughts of Gordon Oakes, Viki Childress, and Barry Shubitz were put on hold for a while as I watched Cary Grant woo Rosalind Russell. I couldn’t help but notice that Dean was even more handsome than ol’ Archibald Leach.
CHAPTER TEN
After lunch the next day, Dean called me over to his office at the sheriff’s station. Business was very slow, and I’d already seen all of the appointments set for the day. After checking in with Bekah, I headed over to the station, which was located across the street from Civic Center Park. On my way into the station, I paused for a moment to look out over the park. The fairy lights on the big blue spruce sparkled in the sunlight, and children played on the fields and playground, happy to be free of school for the next three months. I remembered how much I enjoyed Summer Break and wished for a moment that I could drop what I was doing and go spend some time on the swings. They’d always been my favorite part of any playground, and it had been years since
I’d been on a swing set. Maybe I could convince Jen to join me one afternoon. She loved it just as much as I had when we were little.
I turned away with a wistful sigh and headed inside the sheriff’s station. Dean was waiting for me just inside the front doors, dressed once more in his khaki-colored uniform shirt and pants, a heavy leather gun belt riding low on his trim hips. I never thought I was the sort of woman who went head over heels for a man in uniform—not like Jennifer, anyway—but I did have to admit that Dean wore the sheriff’s duds well. Possibly even better than his flannels and tight jeans.
“Let’s go on back to my office,” Dean said. He headed toward a metal detector and X-ray machine. “Drop your bag here.” He nodded at the X-ray’s conveyor belt.
I raised my brows in surprise. It must be policy that every visitor went through the same security protocol before going deeper into the building. Dean would, no doubt, have gotten in trouble if he’d let me sneak around it. I dropped my purse in a plastic box and added my car keys and a handful of loose change into another, smaller plastic box. Then I headed through the metal detector. It beeped. Dean smirked at me.
“Got a bomb vest strapped beneath your jacket?” he quipped.
“Yep. Should I take it off?”
“Your jacket or the bomb vest?” he asked. I gave him a level look, and he chuckled. “Yes, take off your jacket. Send it through the X-ray.”
I did as I was told and went through the metal detector again. It beeped a second time. I gave Dean an exasperated look. “Can’t we just skip this? I’m not carrying a gun. Or a bomb. Or even a knife.”
Dean took a handheld wand from one of his deputies. “You can’t skip it. How would it look if I let my killer smuggle the weapon in that she used to kill me? Arms out,” he instructed. I rolled my eyes but complied with his instructions. Dean ran the wand over my outstretched arms and down my torso. The wand started beeping as he ran it over the front of my body. He raised a brow. “Underwire?”
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