Deadly Devotion

by Sandra Orchard

  “Mighty short visit,” Julie said. “Let’s follow him.”

  “What for?”

  Julie looked at her as if she were a few plants short of a flat. “To get your proof.”

  Kate’s confusion must’ve been splattered across her face because Julie started talking very slowly. “Cal’s garage. The ‘go-to’ place. To give more than your car a boost. Looks to me like Al’s a supplier.” Julie started across the street.

  Comprehension finally shook Kate’s brain into action. She grabbed Julie’s arm and yanked her back to the curb. “You can’t be so obvious.” She steered her toward the discount store’s sidewalk display and pulled a T-shirt off the rack. “We need to wait to see where Al heads and then pretend we’re going that way too.”

  Al glanced their way.

  “Act casual.” Kate raised the T-shirt to eye level and pointed out the unique stitching to Julie, who feigned unusual interest.

  A moment later, Al slipped into A Cup or Two, and Kate returned the shirt to the rack. “Shall we have that cup of tea now?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Julie said, this time sweeping her arm for Kate to lead.

  They waited for a delivery truck to lumber by, then hurried across the street and into the shop. The door swung out of Kate’s grasp, and Molly barreled into her before Kate could get out of the way. A round of apologies that drew far too much attention to their arrival followed, and the door shut behind them with an extra loud jangle. So much for being discreet.

  Brewster, paper bag in hand, stood at the cash register watching Beth answer the phone. Beth pressed the receiver to her chest and caught Kate’s attention. “Can you try to catch Molly? Her dad’s on the phone.”

  Kate rushed outside, but Molly had already pulled away from the curb in Beth’s red LeSabre. “Wait,” Kate shouted, jogging after her, waving.

  Molly drove off, leaving a trail of blue smoke in her wake.

  Julie held the door open for Kate and relayed the news to Beth, who relayed it to Molly’s father.

  “Did you know that your car is burning oil?” Kate added.

  “Yeah, Molly’s running it to the garage for me. I feel bad that she missed her call because of me, though.”

  A call from her father? Edward claimed Molly and her father weren’t talking, that he didn’t know she was in Port Aster. Although now that Kate thought about it, she’d heard Molly on her cell phone with him too.

  Beth took the paper sack from Al and handed him a twenty. “Thank your mom again. This stuff works great.”

  “Will do.” Al stuffed the bill in the front pocket of his plaid jacket and left.

  Julie and Kate exchanged a look and beelined toward Beth. “What are you buying from Grandma Brewster?”

  Beth’s cheeks flushed. “You saw that, huh? It’s kind of embarrassing. Here I run a specialty tea shop and I’m buying a mixture of herbs from Grandma Brewster to cure my”—she glanced at Julie and lowered her voice—“morning sickness. I don’t know what she puts in there, but it works.”

  Julie’s eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. “You’re pregnant? Oh, wow! Congratulations.”

  “Shh,” Kate whispered. “Beth doesn’t want anyone to know yet.” Kate peeked into the bag from Al. The dried leaves were crushed beyond recognition, but she could identify a few familiar aromas. “Have you asked Mrs. Brewster what her secret ingredient is?”

  “Every chance I get. If I could replicate this stuff, I’d make a fortune. But she just smiles and says, ‘Don’t worry, I make for you.’” Beth mimicked Mrs. Brewster’s thick German accent. “She learned her remedies in the old country and probably uses stuff that doesn’t grow around here, except in her garden.”

  “Well, I’m so happy her remedy is working for you. You look better every time I see you. If you don’t mind parting with a handful of the mixture, I could run some tests and probably figure out what’s in it.”

  “Oh, I’d feel terrible sneaking behind her back to figure it out, but thanks for the offer.”

  Kate rolled the top of the bag closed and returned it to Beth. “Does Al usually deliver stuff for his mom?”

  “Yeah, I’m told that he’s been her courier since he was old enough to ride a bicycle.”

  Julie’s shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry, Kate. I really thought we were onto something.”

  “Onto what?” Beth asked, her eyes bright with interest.

  “Nothing. Forget it.” Kate quickly scooped together a blend of tea and handed Beth the money. “Um, Beth, why did you tell me Molly had no one when I first asked you about her?”

  “She doesn’t. Not here. Of course, we’ve become good friends. And, well, I didn’t know about Edward.”

  “Hmm.” Kate carried her tea to the table near the fireplace.

  Julie hurried after her. “What was that about? Why didn’t you tell Beth about your grow-op theory?”

  “There was nothing to tell.” Kate pried her suspect list out of her back pocket, smoothed it flat on the table, and jotted down the new information she’d learned.

  “I’m sorry,” Julie commiserated. “It looks like you’ve hit the final dead end.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Kate went over the clues, her mind whirling with new possibilities.

  “What’d I miss?”

  “Edward told me Molly wasn’t talking to her father.”

  Julie jabbed her finger onto the table. “I told you I didn’t trust him.”

  “But you didn’t see his face when he told me that Molly left her folks to be with him. He was over the moon. I can’t believe he was lying.”

  Julie sipped her tea and the silence stretched between them. Then suddenly she set down her cup. “Maybe he wasn’t lying. Maybe that’s what Molly told him. Maybe she exaggerated the rift to win him back, to convince him that he was more important to her than her father’s money.” Julie straightened her teacup on its saucer. “Not that I’m defending him. He had the most to gain from Daisy’s death and the most to lose if Daisy took what she knew about him to the police. Not to mention he had plenty of opportunity to slip poison into her tea.”

  “I agree.”

  “You agree?” Julie repeated, looking a little stunned. “So you do think he did it?”

  “I haven’t ruled out the possibility.” Kate’s heart twisted. She didn’t want to believe he’d played her.

  “Are you kidding me? You accepted a ride with a man you think could be a murderer and then defended him from the guy who showed up to save you. Are you sure you haven’t been drinking tainted tea? ’Cause I think you might be delusional.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Kate took a deep breath to try to dislodge the weight that had settled on her chest. “Okay, let’s look at who we’ve got: Darryl and Gord and their clandestine drug research. The chief who doesn’t want me to investigate—maybe because of pressure from the mayor, or maybe to conceal his dad’s crimes.”

  “Alleged crimes. We have no proof.”

  “Okay, alleged crimes. And then we have Edward and his girlfriend who just confuse me.”

  “That’s because you’re too trusting.”

  Kate looked helplessly at her list. “You’re right. I could keep digging until the cows come home in the hope of finding a piece of evidence that will convict Daisy’s killer. It’s time to take drastic measures. Are you with me?”

  Julie leaned back and raised her palms between them. “Oh no. You’re not drawing me into one of your crazy schemes.”

  “It’s not crazy. I saw it in a movie. We get all our suspects in the same room, here even, along with lots of witnesses so the killer can’t try anything. And then we flush him out. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

  Julie hesitated so long Kate wondered if she was mentally cataloging friends to find a substitute who would fit into the maid of honor gown if Kate went down in a hail of bullets.

  Julie blew out a resigned sigh. “How are we going to get everyone here?”

  “That’s
the easy part.” Before Julie could back out, Kate drew her cell phone from her purse and dialed the research station.

  Marjorie answered.

  “Hey Marge, it’s Kate. Listen. Come by A Cup or Two after work tomorrow afternoon and tell all your frien—”

  Julie grabbed Kate’s arm, pulling the cell phone away from her mouth. “Are you nuts? We don’t even have a plan.”

  Marjorie’s voice chirped through the air.

  Kate pulled back her phone. “Yes, Marjorie. I’m planning to make a big announcement.”

  “Oh my, that sounds exciting. Leave it to me. I’ll pack the place.” Marjorie, all atwitter with her newest scoop, clicked off without saying good-bye.

  Julie glared.

  “Come on, Jules. You want this to be over as much as I do. We have twenty-four hours to come up with a plan. Keith will help.”

  “I could ask Ryan if we can borrow surveillance equipment from his dad’s hardware store.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Kate studied her list of suspects, wracking her brain for a clever way to prod the killer into revealing himself. She picked up her teacup and took a sip. A few drops dribbled from the bottom of the cup onto her paper. As she dabbed the paper with her napkin, her gaze fell to an item she’d scrawled in the margin.

  Her breath caught.

  People’s actions, snippets of dialogue, seemingly unrelated goings-on suddenly made perfect sense.

  22

  Tom took a seat in the back corner of A Cup or Two and waited for his dad. The place was surprisingly busy for midafternoon. He recognized most of the patrons as locals, but the table by the door boasted a group of bell-bottomed drifters with psychedelic orange-and-green tie-dyed T-shirts straight out of the seventies.

  He stretched his neck left and then right in a vain attempt to work out the kinks. Without an active case to justify the use of surveillance teams, he’d handled the last two nights on his own. But no matter how many angles he looked at Daisy’s case from, he had nothing. Not on Brewster, not on Darryl, not on Edward. Nothing that would stand up in court anyway. And no leads on who’d posed as Gordon Laslo.

  If Daisy’s killer hired a drifter to play the part of Laslo, Tom might never track him down, unless they got lucky with the fingerprints they lifted from his affidavit.

  No, he needed more than luck. He needed divine intervention. Kate needed his protection more than ever, but she was still too furious at him for dragging her in for questioning to realize that the guy who tried to frame her for Daisy’s murder might try something worse.

  At least she’d agreed to let Dad stay on as her bodyguard.

  Hank sprawled into the seat opposite Tom and set down a frothy mug of some sort of specialty coffee.

  “Since when do you drink froufrou drinks?” Tom quipped to cover his surprise that Hank had stopped the cold-shoulder treatment. The iceberg between them had gotten so frigid, Tom had debated wearing a hat and mittens to the office.

  Hank took a sip of his drink, then circled his tongue over his lips, collecting the froth left behind. “Mmm, mmm. Carla got me hooked on this stuff. It’s really good.” He jutted his chin toward the counter laden with teas. “Better than tea that tastes like weeds.”

  Tom chuckled and at the same time caught sight of Kate sitting with Julie at a table in the center of the shop. Kate’s gaze slid from Hank’s face to his coffee before veering back to Tom. She nodded when their eyes met, but her tight smile suggested she didn’t approve of the company he kept.

  Not that he should be surprised. She’d already pegged him as Hank’s coconspirator once. The softening he’d seen in her attitude toward him, after his desperate search for a bomb in her car, had apparently been short-lived.

  Hank must’ve sensed the direction of his thoughts. “Have you talked to her since you brought her in?”

  Tom swallowed the last of his coffee and slapped the mug onto the table. “Yeah.”

  “I take it she’s still mad?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Tom clenched his jaw and fought the urge to lash out at Hank.

  “Hey, if you like her that much, I’ll have a talk with her. Let her know I—”

  “No.” Tom lowered his voice. “Thanks. You’ve done enough.”

  Hank let out a snort and dropped his gaze to the mug he was twisting in his hands. “I owe you an apology. Two, actually. First for messing with your, uh, love life. Carla overheard what I said about your last girlfriend.”

  “Zoe wasn’t my girlfriend.”

  “It doesn’t matter. The point is, Carla reminded me of all the times you stood by me in high school when . . . well, you know.”

  “What’s the second apology for?”

  “The night before last. I know you were trying to do right by me. I gotta admit that after Adams found the marijuana leaf, I scoured the woods around Dad’s place too. But it was clean. What I’m trying to say is, I didn’t act like much of a friend and I’m sorry. I know you’re true blue.”

  Tom’s jaw slackened as he stared at Hank. Hank, his high school chum. Hank, his boss. Hank, the man he suspected of covering up his dad’s illegal activities. Was the admission a ploy to throw Tom off the scent? An appeal to his loyalty? Or a genuine gesture?

  Questioning his friend’s motives left a bitter taste in his mouth. “That’s okay.”

  Hank half smiled, a look Tom recalled from their teen years—whenever Hank thought he’d gotten away with something. For now, that was probably a good place for Hank to be.

  Tom’s dad straddled the chair between Hank and Tom. “Can you believe how packed it is in here today?”

  Tom winced at the sight of how many more people had poured in without him noticing. This business with Kate was making him sloppy. A detective couldn’t afford to let his personal life interfere with his job. Maybe Hank had done him a favor.

  Kate’s gaze drifted to his table again, and the kick in his heart said he didn’t want Hank doing him any favors. Too bad she didn’t have a tea to cure stupidity. He could have used some of that. Tom followed the direction of her gaze as it tracked across the shop. Behind the counter, Darryl and his wife were engaged in a heated discussion. Dark circles shadowed Beth’s eyes, and she appeared to have lost some weight. Apparently, her claim that she’d been sick the night he’d spotted her following Kate hadn’t been entirely a lie.

  Hank’s dad approached the two and made a T sign with his hands.

  As Beth reached for the brown paper bag in Al’s hand, Tom gauged Hank’s reaction.

  If he was wary of his dad’s actions, Hank didn’t show it. He downed the last of his coffee and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I gotta go. Dad and I are going fishing. Nice to see you again, Keith.”

  “You too,” Dad nodded. “You should buy a box of Beth’s donuts to take with you.”

  “Good idea.” Hank shifted his attention to Tom. “You on the night shift?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll bring you in a fresh grilled perch.” He winked. “See ya later.”

  Dad hitched a thumb toward Hank’s departing back. “You two seem to be getting along again. Have you written him off as a suspect?”

  “Nope.”

  Edward stood at the counter chatting with Molly, who glowed under his attention. For her sake, Tom hoped Edward had been straight with him.

  Hank interrupted the lovebirds’ tête à tête, apparently asking for donuts as Dad had suggested, because Molly folded a piece of cardboard into a box and picked up the tongs. Al Brewster joined Hank and pointed to the tray of jelly-filled donuts.

  “Well . . .” Dad drummed the tabletop, a satisfied lilt in his voice. “Looks like all our suspects are here.”

  Tom snorted, remembering Kate’s suggestion that they stage a sting. His gaze skittered past Al, Darryl, and Edward. “Only person missing is Gord.”

  “You don’t seriously consider him a suspect in Daisy’s murder?”

  “I have as much reason to suspe
ct him as anyone else.”

  “Then why haven’t you brought him in for the thefts at the research station?”

  “Let’s just say I’m keeping my options open.”

  Dad tipped his chin down, his gaze on Kate.

  Julie’s fiancé, Ryan, now shared Julie and Kate’s table, and the volume of their discussion rose by the second. Julie’s face flushed as nearby patrons started to take notice. Kate, her red hair tied in a ponytail that bobbed with her animated gestures, seemed oblivious to the audience they’d attracted. She slapped her hands on the table. “I’m telling you, Daisy was murdered.”

  The entire room hushed, and like one person everybody turned to look at Kate.

  She surged to her feet, her attention fixed on Ryan. “And I know who did it. Do you hear me?”

  Tom choked on his coffee. What was she doing?

  At the counter, Darryl, Edward, and Al gaped at the spectacle. Not one of them looked uneasy about her declaration. But Hank . . .

  Hank stormed toward her, his face streaked with rage.

  Kate suddenly clutched her throat. Her mouth opened and closed in frantic, jerky movements. But no sound came out.

  23

  Tom’s throat constricted at the sight of Kate’s glassy, too-large eyes. He rushed past Hank, circled his arms around Kate’s waist, and dug his fist under her rib cage, thrusting hard to dislodge the blockage to her airway.

  “Epi,” she squeezed from her throat, then slumped in his arms.

  Tom’s muscles quivered uncontrollably as he eased her onto a chair and helped her hunch over the café table in her fight to pull in a breath. “Someone call an ambulance.”

  Julie ripped an epinephrine pen from Kate’s purse and thrust it into the air. “I found it.” She scrambled around the table and rammed the injector into Kate’s thigh.

  Tom’s heart stopped for a long, painful moment, then careened against his ribs like a runaway car when she gasped. He smoothed the hair away from her ashen face. Dark shadows rimmed her closed eyes. Her breaths came in shallow gasps.

  Rubbing her back, he struggled to keep his voice calm. “You’ll be okay. Breathe nice and easy. The ambulance will be here in a few minutes.”