by K M Morgan
While Paige called it a night, Chloe was too wired to hit the sack. If anything, after the conversation with her friend, her thoughts were even more restless. The natural puzzle-solver that Chloe was, hated staring down so many question marks.
What Chloe needed most was to take her mind off things, or least be able to discuss her concerns with someone. Keeping her thoughts bottled up would only put her more on edge.
This was the kind of moment when Chloe would normally lean on Dylan for comfort. After all, that was one of the perks of a good boyfriend. Unfortunately, she knew that wasn’t an option.
One of the amazing things about dating a doctor was the wild rush of knowing that they had the ability to perform life-changing surgeries. The flipside was that all surgery had inherent risks. There was always the chance that a podiatric surgeon could make a crucial mistake, even if they were at the top of their game. The chances of slipping up only increased when that surgeon didn’t have a full night of sleep the evening before.
Chloe knew that Dylan needed his rest in order to be nice and refreshed for surgery in the morning. She didn’t want to risk throwing him off his game. Instead, she decided to go with her backup plan.
Like all dessert lovers, Chloe knew one thing to be true. When all else failed, pie always came through.
Shannon McGraw, the owner of ‘Pie Paradise’, wasn’t used to seeing her good friend at such a late hour. She knew trouble must have struck, and she was ready to dish out whatever flavor of pie was needed to bring a smile back to Chloe’s face.
“This must be serious,” Shannon replied.
Chloe didn’t mince words. “It is.”
Shannon furrowed her brow. “Please tell me it’s not boyfriend trouble.”
Chloe shook her head.
Shannon breathed a sigh of relief. “Phew. You finally landed yourself a doctor—it would be a shame to have to send him to the doghouse.”
“Don’t worry. My relationship with the doctor is still in tip-top shape. Surprisingly, there was some trouble after the play.”
“Surprisingly? Are you kidding? Where there are actors, drama isn’t far behind,” Shannon joked.
“It’s just a shame that it’s happening to Paige O’Doul.”
“What’s the matter exactly?” Shannon asked.
***
Chloe dished the dirt to Shannon, what little of it she had. That was the problem. Chloe felt like she was trying to solve a giant puzzle even though she didn’t have all the pieces.
Apparently, Shannon felt the same way. When Chloe was done sharing all the details she had, Shannon couldn’t help but look perplexed.
“I’m confused,” Shannon said.
Chloe polished off the last bite of her slice of pumpkin pie. “Join the club. I’m almost at a loss for words here.”
Shannon laughed. “You’re so chatty, your version of a vow of silence is going five minutes without talking someone’s ear off.”
“I said I’m almost at a loss for words. The thing is, I can’t help but feel like there’s something really big that I’m overlooking here.”
“If the sleuth master extraordinaire is at a loss, what chance do I have of figuring this out?” Shannon joked.
“You’re really going wild with those zingers tonight, aren’t you?”
“I zing because I love.”
Chloe laughed. “If I wasn’t so out-of-sorts from the party tonight, I’d zing you back.”
“Wow. You really are shaken up. And I thought I had a bad night.”
“What happened to you?” Chloe wondered.
“Just a couple of really rude customers. It’s nothing compared to the drama at that party you went to. Suddenly my night doesn’t seem so bad after all,” Shannon commented.
“It’s amazing how that works, isn’t it?”
Shannon nodded. “There’s nothing like perspective.”
“I was about to say there’s nothing quite like pie.”
“I guess it’s safe to say you’re feeling better.”
“Dessert has a way of doing that. Although I’m still baffled by this situation with Paige.”
“Do you know what my advice is?” Shannon asked.
“Let me guess. You want me to skip going to the gym tomorrow and come here for another slice of pie instead?” Chloe replied.
“Well, naturally. After all, I’m not just your friend. I’m also a business woman too. And as your ‘pie-tender’, this is my advice—let the answer come to you in your sleep.”
“I think there’s a reason people usually turn to wise bartenders for advice instead of pie tenders. That’s a little too ethereal for me.”
Shannon playfully disagreed. “Get back to me after you’ve had a good night’s rest. I’ll bet when you wake up in the morning, everything will be crystal clear.”
Chapter Eight
Morning came armed with surprises. The first was an abrupt and unwelcome wake-up call. The idea of sleeping in sounded so enticing when Chloe went to bed the night before. With a feisty Welsh corgi running around the house, that was impossible. Rufus arose with a natural boundless energy that would take Chloe two cups of coffee to achieve.
He was no fool. The little guy knew the dog park beckoned with plenty of open space to explore, and ample furry little buddies to roll around with. Even so, Rufus managed to be even peppier than usual. He was zipping back and forth, doing wind sprints in and out of the bedroom. Chloe hadn’t seen him this worked up since she’d taken him to Yappy Hour at Cobley’s restaurant in Brewster. That was a banner day for canine enthusiasm, mostly because Rufus stumbled upon another corgi that enjoyed peeing on fire hydrants just as much as he did.
“Want to go to the dog park?” Chloe asked.
Rufus wagged his tail. It was more of a rhetorical question. If Rufus was strong enough, he would have dragged her out of bed and down the street hours ago. Chloe often wondered what it would be like to wake up every morning with a level of enthusiasm so off the charts that it made a kid on Christmas morning look low key in comparison.
“All right, cutie. Just give me a couple of minutes,” she continued.
Chloe instinctively reached for her phone to see if she’d gotten any messages overnight. She thought maybe she’d have something from Paige. That wasn’t the case. What she did have was a text from Dylan.
It read: ‘I had a great time last night. Can’t wait to see you later. Call you when I get out of surgery.’
Chloe couldn’t help but swoon. She was starting to have some serious feelings for Dylan. When he first asked her out, she told herself to take things slow, to let things unfold at their natural pace, and most of all, not to get too wrapped up too soon. With each date they had, it was hard not to feel like they were building something special.
Just as Chloe’s head was drifting into the clouds, Rufus barked, bringing her right back to reality. When she turned to him, he almost looked like he was smiling. Chloe knew her daydreaming could wait. In the meantime, Rufus deserved his walk.
To be fair, Rufus wasn’t the only one excited about a trip to the park. Chloe could use the cardio as well. She did have an unscheduled slice of pie to burn off from the night before. Unlike her furry friend, Chloe didn’t have a natural reservoir of morning energy. She needed some caffeine and fast.
“One cup of coffee first, then we’ll go,” Chloe insisted.
Rufus wouldn’t listen to reason. He was one motivated pup, and there was no deterring him. He barked again. Then another time. And another.
Chloe started to become concerned. Rufus wasn’t like himself this morning. She wondered if this was one of those times when her pup knew of trouble on the horizon. Animals had a way of sensing things. Chloe always knew when a storm was about to hit because Rufus would run around like crazy, then hide behind the toilet in the bathroom hours before the first crack of thunder.
Judging by her pup’s behavior this morning, another storm was coming. Only this time, it was a different kind. Unfortuna
tely, since she couldn’t speak K-9 and lacked any pet psychic powers, Chloe could only guess the specifics of what her dog was trying to tell her.
Chloe got up to make a cup of coffee, but her doorbell rang before she had a chance to reach the kitchen. How odd. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Why would she be? If it was up to her, she wouldn’t even be awake right now.
She approached the door and peered through the peephole. What she saw made her jump backward. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Part of her wondered if she was seeing things. After all, it was early, and she hadn’t had her first cup of coffee yet.
The doorbell then rang again. She looked into the peephole once more, with the same result. There was no denying the truth now. The fact was, two police deputies were standing on her doorstep.
Chloe had a feeling her question would take a backseat to theirs. What a way for déja vu to strike. She hated to delay opening the door, but she knew only bad news was waiting for her. It wasn’t like those police officers had been sent to deliver a big foam check worth millions of dollars. No, when the boys in blue were at someone’s front door, it meant trouble.
Even though Chloe had done nothing wrong, she still got nervous around law enforcement officers. Her gut was also acting up on her. A sense of dread came over her. Finally, she took a deep breath and opened the door.
The déja vu continued. It turned out the same two deputies were at her door as the last time she’d been approached by the police. Chloe quietly prayed that the circumstances would be different this time. During their last encounter, the deputies had come to her place with questions about the murder of Marty Diamond.
One thing was different from their previous conversation. The cops had gotten burlier. These guys must book it straight to the gym the minute they got off duty. Talk about some serious guns.
“Yes?” Chloe said.
The brawnier of the two, Deputy Stanton, spoke up. “Ms. Cook. Interesting seeing you again.”
“Interesting is not the word I’d go with.”
“I suppose not. I assure you, this is not the Monday morning any of us had planned,” Deputy Stanton continued.
It was an odd sight getting such a dry and understated response from a man that was big enough to wrestle a grizzly bear. The more amazing thing was that the deputy didn’t seem to be aware of this odd contrast.
“They should outlaw Mondays. It’s the only day of the week where good things never happen,” Chloe said.
“Speaking of, I’m afraid there’s been some trouble, and Detective Thicke would like to talk to you about it.”
“About what exactly?”
The deputy then said five words that gave Chloe chills.
“The murder of Ryan Foster.”
Chapter Nine
The deputies brought Chloe to the scene of the crime, which happened to be Ryan Foster’s house. The place was crawling with cops. All the activity seemed to be focused on Ryan’s garage.
Both Ryan’s garage door, as well as the side door leading into the garage, were open. A forensic specialist was dusting the knob of the side door for prints. Anyone that had met Ryan Foster knew he was different than the average guy on the street. It turned out his garage was just as unique as he was.
Most people kept things like cars and power tools in their garage, maybe even the occasional rake or lawnmower. Not Ryan. He’d converted his garage into a man cave with a billiard table, couch, and big screen TV.
Ryan’s body was hunched over on the couch. There was a big gash on the back of his head. With some simple deducing, Chloe came up with a theory as to how Ryan had been murdered. The killer came in through the most-likely unlocked side door of the garage, snuck up behind Ryan, and struck him once, or multiple times, on the back of the head while he was watching TV.
Due to the placement of both the couch and the TV away from the side door, the killer probably came in undetected, due to the volume of the program on the television. If Ryan had seen the killer, his body wouldn’t be directly facing the TV.
Even more troubling than the sight of the dead body was the item Chloe saw on the ground beside the couch. It was a golf club that had blood stained on the club face. That was an odd item to find in Ryan’s garage, considering there were no other golf clubs nor golf bag in sight. The real problem was the item was familiar to anyone that had seen or heard of the play Paige was starring in.
The murder weapon in the play was a putter, one that looked just like the one that was next to Ryan Foster’s couch. In the show, Paige’s character had used the putter as a murder weapon for a very specific reason. Her character was a long-suffering wife whose husband had an affair with a professional female golfer. It seemed like poetic justice that Paige’s character would kill her philandering husband with a putter.
Chloe liked when art imitated life only when it pertained to romantic comedies, not murder mysteries. Suddenly, things were not looking good for Paige O’Doul. That left an unsettling feeling in Chloe’s stomach. It was bad enough that someone had been murdered, but no doubt one of her oldest friends would now be considered a main suspect.
Chloe was staring down two very unappealing possibilities. Either Paige had actually murdered Ryan Foster, or the real killer was going a long way to frame her for the crime. Chloe wished there was an ‘Option C’, but that just wasn’t the case.
Paige certainly wasn’t helping her case any. She had been uncharacteristically secretive and tight lipped with Chloe last night. Still, Chloe could hardly believe that someone as kind as her friend could be capable of this.
Chloe spotted Paige in the driveway while Deputy Stanton approached Detective Todd Thicke in the garage. The minute Paige saw Chloe—she rushed over to her.
“This is unbelievable,” Paige said.
Chloe nodded. “It’s a nightmare, all right. I knew things were out of control last night, but this is ridiculous.”
“I can’t believe the police brought you here. I’m so sorry that you got dragged into this.” Paige sighed.
Chloe looked around and saw the rest of Paige’s old college acting troupe on the edge of the lawn.
“By the looks of it, everyone that was at the party last night has been dragged into this,” Chloe replied.
“I feel so awful. If I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have invited you. We could have just met for pie or something.”
“Paige, do you have any idea who might have done this?”
Just then, Deputy Stanton returned from the garage. “The detective is ready for you.”
Chapter Ten
Chloe and Paige were put into a lineup with some all too familiar faces. There was Adam Foster, his wife Lily, Olivia Ellerby, Sasha Irwin, and the greasy-haired man who flung Ryan’s body into a car outside the party last night.
Detective Thicke stood in front of the lineup with a notepad at the ready. Todd was a bulky, bespectacled man in his midfifties with a round face that matched his beer belly. The detective had the frame of someone that once had an athletic body, but who had spent too many days at his desk gobbling up donuts, and not enough days burning off those calories on the beat.
His detective skills were no doubt a little rusty as well. Cape Cod was hardly known for murders. It didn’t help that Chloe had upstaged the detective by solving the last case. The detective had an unflinching look in his eyes like he was prepared to do anything to keep that from happening again.
He addressed the lineup as a whole. “A murder has occurred. Ryan Foster was killed last night, and I think one of you was responsible for his death. I want to make one thing clear to all of you—I’m not going to stop until I find out who did this. Mark my words, justice will be served.”
Detective Thicke then approached Ryan’s girlfriend, Olivia Ellerby, first.
“Ms. Ellerby, where were you last night between ten and eleven o’clock?” Detective Thicke asked.
“I was at my apartment,” she answered.
The detective furrowed his bro
w. “At your apartment? Why weren’t you with him here? You two were seen leaving the party together.”
“I had him drop me off on the way home,” Olivia explained.
That answer only made the detective more curious. “Why would you do that instead of coming back here together?”
“It was a rough night, all right?”
“No, it’s not all right. It doesn’t make sense. You’d think a couple would want to comfort each other after the night you both had.”
“Look, sometimes it’s best to have a little time alone,” Olivia said.
“Speaking of being alone, was there anyone back at your apartment that can verify you were really there?” Detective Thicke asked.
She shook her head. “I was by myself.”
“What you’re saying is that you have no one to verify your alibi then, right?”
Olivia began to lose her patience. “I already told you, I was at my apartment last night.”
The detective stared her down. “At least that’s your story.”
Detective Thicke scribbled a note on his pad, then moved to Ryan’s brother, Adam Foster.
“How about you, Mr. Foster? Where were you between ten and eleven?” Detective Thicke asked.
“I was at home,” he answered.
The detective quickly turned to Adam’s wife, Lily.
“Can you verify that?” Detective Thicke asked.
Instead of letting his wife speak, Adam answered for her. “She can.”
The detective turned back to Adam and glared. “I didn’t ask you.” Thicke then turned his attention back to Lily. “Can you verify that your husband was at home?”
Lily took a deep breath, then shook her head. “No.”
Adam groaned.
The detective was far from done with Lily. He gave her a piercing stare. “Why can’t you verify it? Were you not at home?”
Lily took another deep breath. “No. I wasn’t.”
“Where were you then?”