Daley Buzz Cozy Mystery Boxed Set

by Meredith Potts

  Wade shook his head.

  “Then why did it take you so long coming to the door?” I asked.

  “I was in the middle of cooking. I didn’t even hear knocking until just now,” Wade replied.

  “You were cooking, huh? What were you making?” I asked.

  “An omelet.”

  “Breakfast? In the middle of the day? Did you stay up late last night?”

  “There’s no rule saying you can only have omelets for breakfast.”

  “True. But you didn’t answer my question. Did you stay up late last night?”

  Wade shook his head. “No. Not particularly.”

  “What did you do last night?” I asked.

  He narrowed his eyes. “You mean, where was I at the time of the murder?”

  “Now that you mention it, yeah, where were you?” I asked.

  “I already told you I didn’t kill Clarissa.”

  David stepped in. “You sure had reason to.”

  “Why? Because she passed me up for a promotion?” Wade asked.

  “Are you going to pretend like that wasn’t a big deal to you? Don’t bother. Julie told us you were so bent out of shape about not getting the promotion that you considered suing Clarissa,” David said.

  Wade held his pointer finger out. “Taking her to court and taking her life are much different things entirely.”

  “I agree. But here’s the thing. You never ended up taking Clarissa to court.”

  Wade threw his arms out. “So what? You think I decided to murder her instead?”

  “I didn’t say that,” David replied. “Although, I would like to know why you never took her to court.”

  “I was getting around to it.”

  David grimaced. “Lawsuits aren’t usually things you just get around to. When someone is mad enough to sue, they don’t typically go about it nonchalantly.”

  “You and me are a little different, I guess.”

  “No. We’ve very different,” David said. “To start, I’m not under suspicion of murder.”

  “I didn’t murder anyone,” Wade snapped.

  I spoke up. “We’d like to believe you. You just need to give us a reason to.”

  “My word isn’t enough?” Wade asked.

  I shook my head. “Not at all. But there’s another way you can prove your innocence.”

  “How?”

  “Answer my question. Where were you last night?”

  “I was here.”

  “All night?” I asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Was Julie here with you?”

  Wade nodded. “As a matter of fact, she was.”

  My eyes widened. “So wait. You’re telling me that Julie was here between eleven and midnight?”

  “That’s what I just said,” Wade replied.

  David glared at Wade. “Have I told you how much I hate liars?”

  “I’m not lying,” Wade said.

  “Then your girlfriend lied to us, because she told us she was home all night.”

  “I can’t speak for her.”

  “Here’s the thing. Why would she lie and tell us she was at home if she was really here?” I asked.

  “After all, if she was going to lie to us, you’d think she would have told us she was here with you. That way you’d both have alibis for the time of the murder. Instead, she told us she was at home alone, eliminating any chance of us being able to verify her story,” David added.

  “If I had to bet my life on it, I’d say you’re the one who is lying,” I said.

  David folded his arms. “Now would be a good time to tell us the truth.”

  He stared at the ground. “All right. Julie wasn’t here last night.”

  “You were alone last night, weren’t you?” David asked.

  Wade nodded. “Yes. But I was here.”

  “The problem with you lying to us earlier is that it makes it very hard for us to believe you now.”

  “I’m telling you the truth.”

  David gave Wade a wary look. “If you and your girlfriend are so close, why didn’t you two get together last night?”

  “She always wants to go to bed early when she has to work an opening shift the next day.”

  “If Julie was so determined to go to sleep early, why didn’t you get together with some of your friends, then?”

  “They were all busy so I just decided to have a relaxing night at home.”

  “And what did you do here all night?” David asked.

  “Just watched some TV. Nothing special.”

  “That’s a pretty low-key Saturday night.”

  “That happens sometimes,” Wade said.

  “It doesn’t make for a very good alibi, though,” David replied.

  Wade snarled. “For the last time, I didn’t kill Clarissa.”

  “You keep saying that, but you have no way of proving it and you have already torpedoed your credibility,” David said. “Face it. Things look really bad for you right now.”

  “I answered all your questions. There’s nothing more to say,” Wade snapped.

  David shook his head. “That’s not how this works. I’m the detective. I decide when we’re done.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, I’m not saying another word without a lawyer present,” Wade barked.

  David scoffed. “Look who is in a hurry to get a lawyer now.”

  “You heard me. You’re not getting another word out of me,” Wade said.

  David stared Wade down. “I’d look up some lawyers if I were you. You just might need one.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The walk back to David’s car was discouraging for a number of reasons. The most obvious one was that the last interview didn’t bring David and me any closer to uncovering who the killer was. Each suspect looked suspicious in their own way. Unfortunately, David didn’t have enough evidence to arrest any of them.

  But that wasn’t all. The real crusher was that we were fresh out of suspects. Even more, despite all of the questions we had, there was a distinct shortage of answers to go around.

  David was doing a good job of keeping his frustration from boiling over.

  The same could not be said about me. I groaned. “That wasn’t the most productive day of investigating ever.”

  “I’ll say. I can think of a number of different words to describe this case, but none of them are positive,” David replied.

  “I don’t know how you can keep yourself so restrained at a time like this. I feel like screaming.”

  “Trust me, I’m yelling plenty on the inside.”

  “It’s crazy. I haven’t been this frustrated…well, since the last murder case.”

  “It does seem to be a pattern.”

  “That’s what happens when there’s no smoking gun.”

  “And when you run out of suspects.”

  “Suspects to question, yes,” I said. “But not suspects who look guilty.”

  “That’s the problem, isn’t it? They all look guilty,” David replied.

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from the other cases, it is that looks truly can be deceiving.”

  “Especially when we have no way of proving who really did this.”

  “The question now is, where do we go from here?”

  David shrugged. “I am open to ideas.”

  I bit the corner of my lip. “How about a mandatory lie detector test for every suspect?”

  “I like it. Unfortunately, according to the law, a lie detector test is completely voluntary.”

  “It turns out the suspects aren’t exactly the volunteering type. Just getting them to answer our basic questions was like pulling teeth.”

  “I think some of them would have preferred to have gone to the dentist rather than talking to us.”

  “Talk about a dubious achievement. Congratulations, Sabrina, you’re less popular than a visit to the dentist.”

  David put his arm over my shoulders. “They can hate me all they want. Catching the killer is th
e only thing that matters to me.”

  “That’s why those lie detector tests would really come in handy. Can you imagine what we’d find out if we tested the suspects?”

  “Yeah. We’d find out exactly how much they have been lying to us.”

  “I’ll bet the sheer volume of lies that would be exposed would be staggering.”

  “You do know that it’s possible to beat a lie detector test, right?”

  “I’m aware of that,” I said. “But what are the odds that they’d all be able to beat the lie detector test?”

  “Really low,” David replied.

  “Exactly.”

  “All you’d have to do was hope that the killer couldn’t outsmart the test.”

  “True. But like I said, lie detector tests are completely voluntary.”

  I took a deep breath. “I know. A woman can dream, can’t she?”

  David chuckled.

  “What are you laughing at?” I asked.

  “I just remember when your dream used to be winning the lottery. Now it’s mandatory lie detector tests.”

  “It turns out things have changed.”

  “Yeah. Just a little,” he deadpanned.

  I sighed. “Welcome to the new Treasure Cove, where murders are becoming disturbingly common.”

  “Talk like that and the tourism board will never hire you,” David joked.

  “Are you kidding? If murders like this keep occurring, this town soon won’t have any tourism.”

  “True,” David said. “Tourism aside, do you have other ideas about what to do now?”

  “You mean, besides stewing in frustration?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “No. I’m too tired and much too frustrated to brainstorm investigative ideas right now.”

  “I’m right there with you. I actually think the best idea is to go home, relax, and then get a full night of sleep. We can tackle this case again tomorrow with fresh eyes.”

  “I just hope we can tackle it with some fresh leads, too,” I said.

  “Who knows? A lot can happen overnight,” David replied.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. Every one of the murders that has occurred in the last few months has taken place at night.”

  “Here’s hoping for a quiet night, then.”

  “I’m not just going to hope for it. I’m going to pray for it,” I said.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When I woke up the next morning, I had a full night of sleep under my belt. What I didn’t have was any answers. In addition, it didn’t take long for the same frustrating set of questions about the case to bounce around my head again.

  My pet corgi, Snickerdoodle, believed that he had the solution to clear the fog that was clouding my brain. In my dog’s mind, all of life’s problems could be solved with a walk around the neighborhood followed by a game of fetch in the park. If only life was as simple as my dog made it out to be.

  I took Snickerdoodle out for a walk, which made him happy. Unfortunately, the answers I had been looking for eluded me. The problem was that my brain fog insisted on tagging along while Snickerdoodle and I ambled around the neighborhood.

  Doodle was content to sniff every fire hydrant, light pole, and tree that he came across. That made for frequent stops, which gave my thoughts ample time to wander off. At one point, I became so lost in thought that Snickerdoodle became restless.

  Woof woof.

  The sound of Snickerdoodle barking pulled my head out of the clouds. He gave me an impatient look as he walked so far ahead of me that he reached the end of his leash.

  “All right, Doodle. I get it. You want me to pick up the pace.”

  Snickerdoodle responded with a few more barks.

  For a few moments, while I focused on my dog, all my thoughts about the investigation disappeared. That wasn’t such a bad thing. After all, these walks were meant to clear my head. I would probably spend the entire rest of my day focused on the murder case. That made cherishing these few minutes with Doodle all the more important.

  “Doodle. It’s okay. I’m coming.”

  When he saw me speeding up to catch up with him, he wagged his tail and opened his mouth. With the way his tongue was hanging out, it gave the appearance of him smiling.

  From there, Snickerdoodle turned around and scampered down the street toward Vine Avenue. As he moved down the sidewalk at a pretty solid clip, his nose got in on the action. I wasn’t sure what he had caught the scent of, but Doodle’s curiosity had been piqued. I had to admit, he was surprisingly quick for a stumpy little guy.

  “What is it, Doodle?”

  As he rounded the corner at Vine Avenue, the source of his fascination became clear.

  Snickerdoodle had been on the tail of another dog. A cute little West Highland terrier, no less. What a furry little pup it was, too. I loved westies. If I felt like Doodle could handle having another dog around the house, I would have gone to the local animal shelter years ago and gotten him a companion. Alas, Snickerdoodle was the kind of dog who wanted me all to himself.

  Doodle wasted no time bounding over to the westie and greeting him with a bark. The westie responded in kind. It wasn’t long before the two dogs were sniffing each other like they were old friends.

  While the dogs played nice with each other, trouble brewed between myself and the owner of the westie. Not because I wanted it to, mind you, but because we had a history.

  Melissa Wilcox did not like me. The tall, thin, twenty-eight-year-old had an angular face and long blond hair. Judging by the angry look in her green eyes, she had also not stopped holding a grudge against me.

  Her beef with me stemmed from my investigation into Andrew Stewart’s murder months earlier. Melissa had worked for Stewart’s Chocolate Shop. She had also been having an affair with Andrew. So when he was murdered, naturally she became a suspect. Ultimately, she was innocent of the crime, but Melissa still resented that she had ever been considered a suspect in the first place.

  Last time I had run into her, she had made her discontent quite clear. That recent conversation was even more awkward, considering that she had been with William Bolton at the time. As I had come to learn, William was a member of the secret society that my boyfriend and I were trying to investigate.

  For better or worse, William was not with Melissa right then.

  Melissa’s anger, meanwhile, was ever present. She scowled. “Oh…you.”

  I did not let myself be thrown off by her surliness.

  Instead, I plastered a smile on my face. “Melissa, funny running into you here.”

  Melissa narrowed her eyes. “Funny isn’t the word I would use.” She looked down at her dog and tugged on the westie’s leash. “Boy, it’s time to go.”

  “You know, maybe this is fate—”

  She shot me a glare. “What are you talking about?”

  “We keep running into each other. Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something.”

  She groaned. “The universe is probably just trying to torture me.” She tugged on her dog’s leash again. “Come on.”

  “By the way, I didn’t realize that you lived in the neighborhood,” I said.

  She ignored me and tugged on her westie’s leash again. “Come on, Butterscotch, it’s time to go.”

  My eyes lit up. “Wait a minute. You named your dog, Butterscotch? That’s so cute.”

  Her icy demeanor did not thaw one bit. Melissa’s focus remained on her dog. A desperate tone came to her voice. “Butter, come on.”

  Butterscotch didn’t pay any attention to her. The westie was too busy rolling around on the ground with my dog.

  “Let him have his fun,” I said. “He’s having a good time with Snickerdoodle. Besides, I won’t bite.”

  Melissa snarled at me. “If I haven’t made myself clear enough, I have no interest in talking to you.”

  The two dogs were completely oblivious to the drama that was unfolding above them. That was probably for the best. I had no
interest in arguing with Melissa. If only she shared that sentiment.

  “Just because you’re holding a grudge against me doesn’t mean you should take it out on your dog,” I said.

  “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “Look, I’m sorry about what happened during the Andrew Stewart investigation. I understand that you may never forgive me for questioning you about his death, but I assure you, I just wanted to bring his killer to justice.”

  “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be treated like a killer? To know that you are innocent, but worry that you’ll be sent to jail for a crime you didn’t commit? It’s terrifying.”

  “I can’t pretend to know what that was like for you. All I can say is that I’m sorry. If you don’t forgive me, I understand.”

  She stared deep into my eyes. A few moments later, she glanced down at our dogs, who were licking each other.

  “Our dogs do seem to really get along,” she said.

  “Dogs are simple like that. They don’t come with any baggage. They just live in the moment. Humans work a little differently.”

  Melissa scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

  As I glanced at her, I saw a troubled look on her face.

  “Why do I get the feeling that your anger isn’t just directed at me? Is something else bothering you?” I asked.

  “What makes you think I’d tell you if there was?”

  I nudged my head at the dogs. “Butterscotch doesn’t look like he’s in a hurry to go anywhere. Isn’t talking to me better than standing here in awkward silence?”

  She looked down at her dog then sighed. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

  “Sabrina, don’t act like we’re best friends.”

  “Fine.” I took a step back. “What brings you to this neighborhood?”

  “I, uh, live a couple of blocks away.”

  “Since when? I thought you lived on the south end of town.”

  “I moved.”

  “Well, welcome to the neighborhood. You enjoying it?”

  “It’s all right.”

  So much for small talk. This conversation was going nowhere fast. If I wasn’t careful, we’d be discussing the weather soon. With the conversation stagnating, I decided to change the subject. There were some other issues I wanted to bring up, and since Melissa clearly wasn’t going to be leading the discussion, I figured there was no better time than now to get into meatier topics.