“I gotta say, at some point, you have to admit that you’re the common denominator here, Winifred.”
I tried to glare at Officer Green, but I couldn’t quite pull it off for once. She had a point. “I promise you, Susan, I’m not running around killing people.”
“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t.” She shrugged her broad shoulders. “And you are to call me Officer Green, not Susan.”
“Oh, lighten up, Susan.” Sergeant Branson Wexler managed the glare I hadn’t been able to conjure up. “Fred’s not a murderer. And you know it.”
She rolled her eyes and gestured emphatically toward the bakery counter. “Maybe not, but she sure can mess up a crime scene, can’t she?”
“She thought it was me!” Katie pounded the table and glared through red-rimmed eyes. “What did you expect her to do when she thought she’d walked in on her best friend murdered? Just stand there and take notes on her observations?”
Before Officer Green could retort, Branson held his hands out between the two of them. “Let’s all just take a breath. It makes sense that emotions are running high, even more than usual. Casting stones isn’t going to help any of us.”
The four of us were seated at a table across the room from the kitchen section. I had been so focused on Sammy when I called the police, I hadn’t given much thought to who would answer the call. Not that it would’ve changed anything. But even if it could have, I wasn’t sure which I would’ve chosen. Susan Green was the closest thing to a nemesis I’d ever had in my life, but things had been awkward and tense between Branson and me for weeks now. I couldn’t say it was a budding romance gone sour, as that particular bud hadn’t even finished forming before it withered and died. Either way, I most definitely wouldn’t have chosen both at the same time.
I had barely explained the situation to them when Katie showed up. Barging past the police who’d tried to block her way below. For that alone, I suppose I was glad Branson was there, as he allowed her to stay. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t question her later anyway.
“In all your hysteria, I don’t suppose you accidentally kicked the murder weapon somewhere that you would accidentally discover later so you can save the day?” Apparently Officer Green wasn’t completely done taking her shots at me.
“No, I didn’t. I haven’t seen a gun anywhere.”
She cocked her brow. “What about your little dog? Isn’t he the one you typically blame for finding murder weapons?”
Branson followed Katie’s example and smacked the tabletop. “Didn’t I say to lighten up? If you can’t act professionally, leave.”
Susan opened her mouth to retort, then changed her mind. Instead she made a show of studying the notes she’d taken on her pad. “So you both claim that the last time you saw Sammy was yesterday afternoon when she finished her shift?”
“Yes.” The irritation had left Katie’s voice, and she sniffed. “I was busy with a customer. Didn’t even say a proper goodbye, just waved as she was leaving.”
I gripped Katie’s hand and held it over the tabletop as I addressed Susan. “I spoke to her downstairs right before she left.”
“Can anyone confirm that?”
I wasn’t sure why it mattered. It wasn’t like Sammy had been killed yesterday afternoon. But I went with it. “Yes, actually. Regina and Penelope Garble were in the store. They left shortly before Sammy.” Though, I couldn’t remember if they’d been there when Sammy and I started talking.
Branson flinched. “Did you just say Garble?”
Another wave of déjà vu washed over me. We’d done this before as well—though Katie hadn’t been present—Getting grilled by Officer Green about Opal Garble’s murder until Branson had stepped in to intervene. “I sure did. They are Lois and Opal’s distant cousins. It seems they inherited the Garble properties.”
“Really?” Susan perked up at that. “What are they going to do with them? When will they be for sale?”
Branson glared at her. “Do I need to remind you to be professional again?”
Her cheeks flushed scarlet, and she didn’t respond.
Part of the reason Susan hated me so much was that her brother rented a property owned by my family. In her defense, while my mom and stepfather are lovely people, renting from them would be a nightmare.
Figuring it was better to get all cards on the table, I decided for complete transparency. “They want to buy the bookshop. Combine all three properties into one massive store.”
Susan studied me, but I couldn’t read her expression.
“Do you think that has anything to do with Sammy?” The way Branson said it, sounded like he was truly asking for my opinion, not simply trying to humor me.
“No, I don’t see how. Even if they were connected in some way, there’d be no reason for them to kill anyone but me. The property isn’t even in my parents’ name anymore. I’m the only one on the deed.” I replayed Sammy’s conversation before she left. Telling me I was a fool not to take their offer. I couldn’t see how it connected. Probably because it didn’t.
Suddenly I was aware of Branson’s bright green eyes drilling into me. “What are you thinking? I can tell you’re considering something.”
Despite the distance that had grown between us, it was clear Branson knew me enough that I couldn’t fool him. “Nothing really. It’s just that Sammy overheard the Garbles offering to buy the shop. She thought I was a fool to turn down the offer.”
“That wouldn’t have anything to do with Sammy getting killed.” Katie looked at me like she wished I hadn’t shared that information.
“So you’re saying that your last interaction with Sammy was contemptuous.” Susan suddenly looked gleeful.
That was probably why Katie didn’t want me to say anything.
She jumped to my defense before I could get a word out. “Really? What now, Officer Green? You’re going to say Fred has a motive for murder because she and Sammy disagreed about selling the shop?”
Susan jotted down notes as she replied, though she managed to keep her tone neutral this time. “We have to investigate every angle. No matter how small or unlikely. A woman has been killed.”
Branson groaned.
She shot him a glare. “I’m sorry, Sergeant Wexler? Would you disagree with that?”
“No. Obviously I can’t disagree with that.”
Officer Green refocused on me. “Though we don’t know the exact time, Sammy was killed many hours ago, possibly yesterday evening. Can you account for your time? Did you return to this location at all?”
“I didn’t come back here until this morning. And last night Katie, Leo, and I had dinner at Habanero’s.” I kept my gaze firmly fixed on Susan and away from Branson. Even so, I noticed him flinch at Leo’s name. “After that, it was just Watson and me for the rest of the evening.”
She jotted more notes. “So, no alibi, then?”
Katie and I exchanged glances, and she rolled her eyes in frustration. She had already been a suspect in a murder; maybe now it was my turn.
“I promise you, Fred. I am not going to let them turn you into a suspect in this investigation.” Branson’s expression was sincere, almost protective.
It was just the two of us at the table. Susan had already headed back to the station, and Katie waited downstairs for me. “I’m not asking for any special treatment, Branson. It’s fine by me if I need to be a suspect. I didn’t do it, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
A wry grin cut across his face. “I’m surprised you can say that without laughing.”
“What does that mean?”
He shrugged. “You’ve made it very clear that you find the police department and our skills lacking.”
“I don’t want to argue, Branson. Not again.” Though it was taking every ounce of my willpower not to use my fingers to count off the number of murders I’d solved lately compared to the police.
“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to argue. But it sounded that way; I know it did.” To my surprise,
he reached out and took my hand. “I was trying to assure you that I know you didn’t do this. I guarantee Susan knows it as well. She’s just being… Susan.”
I studied our clasped hands on the tabletop despite myself. It felt good to have him touch me again. But nothing had changed. Not really. I pulled my hand free. Before I spoke, I made sure to keep my tone steady, almost cold. “If this is another way of telling me to keep my nose out of it, then—”
“It isn’t.” He reached for my hand again, then pulled back.
Smart man.
“It really isn’t, Fred.” This time when he spoke, he sounded almost desperate. “I know I messed up on Myrtle’s case. I shouldn’t have cut you out like I did. And once more, you solved it, not us. I’m not going to make that mistake again.”
“Even so, Branson, I don’t want….” His words played back through my mind, causing me to hesitate. “Wait a minute. Are you saying you’re not telling me to keep my nose out of it?”
He nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. As long as you’re not impeding the investigation, which you wouldn’t, then I won’t stand in your way. In fact, I’ll help you however I can.”
I studied him. I could not figure this man out. “You’re back and forth, Branson. One minute you’re complimenting my skills in solving murders, and the next you’re telling me to mind my own business, and now here we are again. Will you change your mind tomorrow? You’re fickle, and I don’t know if I can trust you.”
Branson flinched. “Okay, I deserve that.” His gaze flicked to my hand. It was easy to see he was using every ounce of willpower to not reach for it a third time. “I admire your skill, Fred. Your brain. I promise that I’m not going to let you be an actual suspect, and I also promise to not get in your way.”
More because I was tempted to let him take my hand than anything else, I stood. “I should get to Katie. I don’t really think either of us should be alone right now.” I started to walk away, then paused, looking back at him. “Oh, and Branson?”
He looked at me hopefully. “Yeah?”
“Just so we’re clear. I was going to figure out who killed Sammy with or without your blessing.”
He grinned and proved once more he was an intelligent man by keeping his mouth shut.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” From the passenger seat of my Mini Cooper, Katie looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
I refocused on the other cars in the parking lot, unable to meet her gaze. “Black Bear Roaster is just as good a place to start as any.”
“Maybe we should slow down a little.” Katie gave a tentative touch to my forearm. “I thought we were going to your cabin.”
“We are.” We’d just left the police at the bookshop. I’d suggested we go to my house to pull ourselves together, but as soon as we slid into the car, I began to feel antsy. I turned back to Katie. “I thought you were dead. I was absolutely devastated.” A compassionate expression crossed her face, and she started to speak, but I cut her off. “And then I was relieved when I realized it was Sammy. Relieved, Katie. That she was dead.” I looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m still relieved.”
She blinked a couple of times, and tears brimmed on the edge of her lashes but didn’t fall. “It sounds like you feel guilty about that.”
“Of course I do! I’m not glad Sammy’s dead, but I am glad it was her and not you.”
“I don’t think there’s anything to feel guilty about for that, Fred. That’s normal.”
“I know.” And I did. Anyone else would feel the same. The people we love the most are just that, the people we love the most. Everyone else came second. Still, the relief that had flooded through me as I looked at Sammy’s face somehow made me feel responsible... Not responsible, but… something. And responsible was the closest label I could come up with. “I need to figure out who killed her. I owe Sammy that much.”
“I don’t really know if you do.” Katie gave a sympathetic smile. “But I wouldn’t expect anything less. However, I don’t think barging into Black Bear Roaster is the best plan right now.”
I knew she was right about that, too. “Is there any other lead you have? You spent more time with Sammy than I did. Do you know of any other conflicts she had with anyone in town?”
A blush rose to Katie’s cheeks. “No. We spent a lot of time together, but we only talked about baking, really. She was a master baker. The only other conflict was what was growing between her and myself.”
“Exactly. And we both know you didn’t kill her. And no, it doesn’t mean that Carla killed her either, but who knows…? After that crazy display, I wouldn’t put it past her.” Carla had never seemed violent to me, just abrasive and a lackluster coffee shop owner. But dry baked goods didn’t equal homicidal.
Again Katie looked at me like I was crazy. “She just had a baby. You think she got out of the hospital, came to the Cozy Corgi, and shot Sammy?”
Irritation spiked. Though I tried to hold it at bay. The last thing I wanted was to be annoyed with Katie. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t making sense. But how in the world could she expect me to just go sit at the house? “I don’t know what I think. I only know I have to go there. I have to do something.” I glanced at Watson, who was sitting in the small back seat glaring at Katie for taking his spot, then back at Katie. “Stay here with Watson. I won’t be long.”
“Fred.” As I opened the car door, Katie grabbed my arm once more. She flinched at my expression, and I tried to adjust. She pointed to my clothes. “You’ve still got blood on you.”
I looked down. Sure enough, I’d forgotten. The police had allowed me to clean up before the interview, but there was nothing I could do about my clothes. I snagged a jacket I’d tossed into the backseat. “I’ll put this on. No one will see. I’ll be right back. Turn on the car if you get cold.” I handed her my keys, closed the door, and buttoned up my jacket as I headed toward Carla’s coffee shop.
The minute I stepped through the doors of Black Bear Roaster, I knew Katie was right. It was a mistake.
Not a shocker.
The place was packed. Of course it was. The Cozy Corgi was closed for the rest of the day and the next. After having missed crucial evidence at the past couple of crime scenes, it seemed the police department was taking no chances. That, or Officer Green was simply enjoying herself at my expense. Katie’s bakery had become gossip central, so with it closed, people came back to Carla’s. Not to mention after Carla’s outburst the day before, people were probably having similar thoughts as me, and wanted to see the show.
It turned out, I realized, as all eyes turned my way, that I was the show.
I nearly turned and left. But whether it was stubbornness, pride, desperation, or knowing that the police were still in my shop investigating, I wasn’t sure. I just knew I needed to do something. Straightening my shoulders and lifting my chin, I walked to the counter. Despite the crowded space, there was no wait.
The teenage barista looked as if he was afraid I’d come to create a show as well. “May I help you?”
Though the minute I’d walk through the door I could feel the silence fall over the other customers, whispers began to trill at my back. I tried to ignore them and focused on the barista. “I’d like to speak to Carla, if she’s available?”
“Um…” He licked his lips. “She… just had a baby yesterday.” He pointed over the counter toward my feet. “Pretty close to where you’re standing right now.”
I straightened my back, or at least attempted to before realizing I’d already done that. At five foot ten, I was often aware of my height compared to most people. It seemed impossible that I could feel so small. Even more proof that Katie had been right, this had been a mistake. Obviously. “So I take it she didn’t come in today?”
He shook his head.
Following his lead, I licked my lips. “Did you happen to—” I lowered my voice “—work here the same time Sammy did?”
“The dead girl?”
I flinche
d, then nodded.
“No.” He shook his head. “When did she work here?”
“I have no idea.” I started to turn around, to face all the eyes drilling into my back. To ask one of them if they knew when Sammy had worked here, or even if she had. Ask them what the connection was between Carla and Sammy. Why Carla was so furious, not only with Katie and me, but with Sammy specifically. Somebody had to know. Gripping the edge of the counter, I held myself still. Obviously I wasn’t thinking clearly. Anything I did next would cause more harm than good.
After taking a deep breath, I forced a smile, though who knew what it actually looked like. “I’d like a dirty chai and a cranberry-orange scone, please.”
The barista looked like he was going to argue or question, but then he blinked and gave a small nod. “Large?”
By the time I walked the two blocks back to the parking lot, I’d chugged the entire dirty chai and eaten most of the stale-as-cardboard scone—not tasting the thing. It was either that or run through the streets like a crazy woman.
Katie looked at me expectantly as I slid into the driver’s seat, but I shook my head at her. “Don’t ask. Please. And let’s never talk of it again. You were right. Let’s go to my house. Once we’re there, I might ask you to perform a lobotomy. I think I’m done with whatever’s taken up residence between my ears.”
I handed the remainder of the scone to Watson, who happily did his impression of a shark in the backseat.
I thought Katie and I would spend the afternoon going over possible suspects or motives. Maybe searching online for information about Sammy. Instead I made tea and lit the fire. Katie turned on The Great British Bake Off show, as she most often did. We each snuggled up under blankets on either side of the sofa, Watson snoring between us, and fell asleep.
Surprisingly I didn’t dream. No visions of entering the bakery, no flashbacks of how Katie’s doppelganger had looked on the floor. Not even a stress dream of walking naked into Black Bear Roaster with everyone staring at me. Nothing. Just blissful oblivion.
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