by Eryn Scott
I studied her for a moment. “Jolene … I hate to say this—you know, don’t speak ill of the dead and all, but—”
“Why was I with him?” she finished for me, more bluntly than I would’ve put it.
I cringed but nodded. “From what it sounds like, he wasn’t the greatest guy. Carl freely admits that Murray was a much better friend than he was a boyfriend. They’d also known each other the better part of their lives, and you don’t throw out a friendship like that.” I said the last part in my best Carl impression. “But he was kind of awful to you.”
Jolene’s lips pulled up, although there was nothing about the gesture that seemed like a smile. She swiped the heel of her hand across her forehead. “You’re not wrong. I guess I’m used to it, you know?” She glanced up at me. But seeing from my expression that I didn’t know, she added, “Have you heard that song by Dolly Parton? 'Jolene'?”
The haunting chorus of the song played in my mind as I thought through the lyrics. “Please don’t take my man, just because you can. Something like that.”
“Yeah, well it’s like my name’s a curse because I’ve never once been the Jolene in that song. It’s always the opposite for me, begging men not to leave, begging women not to look too hard at my man, and always ending up alone.”
It was then I remembered a line about flaming locks of auburn hair and winced inwardly. Poor Jolene.
As if sensing my pity, she waved a hand at me. “It’s just a song, really. But after a lifetime of being the one left behind, I wanted someone safe, someone who I could finally settle down with. Murray seemed like that man. I knew he had his issues, but he also didn’t seem inclined to leave me either.”
My heart ached for the woman.
“Until …” she said through a sigh.
“Tabby came back to town.” I wrinkled my nose.
She did too. “And I went a little crazy. Snapped, you might call it.”
At this confession, my pulse pounded in my ears, and my cheeks flushed hot. Snapped? Was Jolene about to confess to murdering Murray? I tried to breathe steadily, to not give away how much I was freaking out in my mind.
Visions of me befriending Althea earlier this year, thinking she was my only living friend in town when she’d actually been my grandmother’s murderer, flashed through my mind.
Had I done the same thing again?
I cleared my throat. “Snapped?” I asked, hating that my voice broke a little on the word.
Jolene sighed. “Do you want to know the actual story of how I broke my leg?” she asked, her eyes flashing up to meet mine.
I nodded even though every cell in my body screamed for me to run away.
21
The tearoom spun around me as I saw Jolene through fresh eyes. The woman confessed that after a lifetime of being left for other women, she’d “snapped” when Murray cheated on her.
Snapped.
Did that word ever lead to anything good?
I swallowed as I watched her warily from the other side of the tea bar. And now she wanted to tell me how she really broke her leg. I glanced again at the box of pastries. Had she poisoned them? Was she going to tell me the truth before forcing one down my throat? The evening heat trapped in the tearoom as the sun lowered in the sky closed around me, making me sweat.
“Rosemary, are you okay?” Jolene asked, leaning in closer. “You look sick.”
I coughed. “Uh, no. Fine.” I tried to grin like someone who was fine. “I’m just … you didn’t break your leg falling on ice downtown?”
It had been the story everyone told. Poor Jolene. Slipped on ice on the boardwalk, fell down onto the rocks, and broke her leg bad enough that she’d been out for a few months.
Fear raced through me as my brain ran through the possible scenarios where this story led to her killing Murray. That she’d been in the middle of her recovery when Murray had broken things off with her spoke of a woman scorned and gave her a darn good motive.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t taken her more seriously as a suspect until now. My she doesn’t seem like a murderer, thoughts seemed suddenly naïve and stupid.
When I glanced at Jolene, trying to see if her eyes would give away her murderous intentions, however, I only saw the focus of someone summoning the details of a story.
“It started about a week before I broke my leg, actually.” Jolene looked out the window as if she were replaying the moment in her memory. “Murray had been acting weird for a couple of weeks: secretive, you know?” She glanced at me.
I gulped. “Sure.”
“Well, one day, Murray broke plans with me last minute. In my other relationships that’s always meant something bad before, so when I was driving home after closing the shop and I saw him driving down Cove Drive, I followed him. I figured I would see where he went. And once I was already following, I couldn’t seem to stop even after he took the road out of town.” Jolene’s cheeks turned red. “I ended up following him all the way to Portland.”
I listened, clueless as to where this story was going. Whenever she looked away from me, I searched the room, staring longingly at the door and wondering how fast I could reach it, how many steps to freedom. Technically, Jolene had been on house rest for the past few months as her leg healed, so I doubted she could outrun me. She was seated across the bar from where I stood. I had the advantage, for sure.
Though if she were a murderer, there was no telling what she might do to keep me quiet.
She continued, interrupting my plans of escape. “He visited a jeweler. I felt so stupid. Here I was, doubting him when he was really going to buy something for me.” Jolene snorted.
“Oh, that’s sweet, actually.” I squinted as I realized this part of the story didn’t fit with what I knew about how the couple ended up.
“Yeah, it didn’t turn out to be something for me. And after that, he met Tabitha for lunch.” Her face became shadowed and menacing again.
“That’s awful.” I picked at something on the corner of the table.
Jolene’s jaw clenched tight. “Yeah, and then two nights later, he canceled plans with me again. This time, he stayed home, and Tabitha came to him.”
I held my breath for a beat, not ready to find out how she knew that detail.
Jolene must’ve read my mind, though, because she added, “I know this sounds like I was doing a lot of stalking, but I couldn’t help myself. I told you, I snapped.”
Wait … stalking was her version of snapped? Taking quick stock of the situation, I realized Jolene didn’t seem wild or crazed. In fact, she looked like if we had a few glasses of wine, we would be just two friends chatting after work.
“I was so mad,” she said, shaking her head. “I wanted to catch them in the act. Like real gumshoe-kinda stuff. But I got scared when Tabitha showed up, and when I was running away, my foot got stuck in a hole in Murray’s yard, and I broke my leg in two places.” Her face sagged in defeat. “I know it’s the most pathetic story ever.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle a little in the wash of relief that followed. She glanced up with a sad smile, and I tried to hide mine.
“It’s not pathetic at all. It’s awful what he did to you.” Now that I didn’t feel like my life was in danger, I wished I had made us some tea to sip on while we talked. I didn’t want to interrupt Jolene, though, as she seemed like she was on a roll. From the way she was sitting taller, it appeared getting the truth off her chest was doing wonders for her conscience.
“How did you get home?” I asked, thinking of the pain she must’ve gone through.
Her face contorted as if she could still remember the pain she was in that night. “I had to use a shovel I found leaning up against the house as a makeshift crutch to even get to my car. I couldn’t call anyone; I couldn’t let them know I’d been spying on Murray.
“And the worst part,” Jolene continued, “was he waited until a week later to break up with me. Said he felt bad at first about my leg, but that he couldn’t hold back his
happiness because something bad had happened to me.” She narrowed her eyes. “I was sure Tabitha coached him on what to say there.”
I remembered my visit to Murray’s house the other day to talk with Tabby. There had been quite a few holes in the yard. Murray must’ve had a terrible mole problem. Did moles live on the beach? I wondered to myself.
“I’m so sorry,” I said quietly.
My heartbeat calmed, and embarrassment traced its mark up my neck in fingers of heat. I was just glad I hadn’t given voice—or action—to my momentary fears that Jolene was the killer. I realized my vision had tunneled in on Jolene in my fear. Now the familiar, calming tea shop came into focus again. The sun dipped lower in the sky but still didn’t seem to have plans of setting soon.
“If we’re sharing sad stories,” I added, “I haven’t even gotten close enough to anyone to warrant being jealous of anyone else they’re seeing.”
Jolene scoffed, “Sure. You just happen to be a beautiful young woman. Guys hate those.”
I laughed. “No. I’m serious. I might look mostly normal, but I’ve got baggage.”
Jolene eyed me suspiciously. “Your hair is really long. Did you belong to a cult, growing up?”
I snorted, way too delighted with the fact that she didn’t know. “Oh, I almost don’t want to ruin this. How have you not heard about me? I thought everyone in this town knew everything about everybody?”
Jolene shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve been a little self-absorbed the past few months, focused on my own issues.”
Even though I loved Jolene not knowing about my past, I also didn’t want to leave her guessing, so I gave her the short version of my story.
I told her how my dad had died in the car accident, that I had technically died too for a minute, but I’d come back. I explained how I’d been diagnosed with leukemia because of all the testing they did on me after the accident.
“That’s why my hair’s so long.” I ran my fingers through it. “After I watched it fall out, I realized how precious it is, and it made me never want to cut it again. I do … cut it, just not very often.”
Jolene’s mouth hung open for a moment. Her hand shot up to cover it as she gasped. “Omigosh, I’m so sorry. The cult thing sounds so rude now.”
I put up a hand in a stop sign, hoping to halt her worries. “No, seriously. It’s okay. I think it’s funny. It’s nice that you don’t tiptoe around me. I don’t want that to change. And even though I know others are aware of my past, this town seems like I’m getting a fresh chance at life, honestly.”
The reminder of second chances, of leaving the old you and the past baggage behind, reminded me of my promise to Geoff. I felt suddenly awful for focusing on my tea shop and dropping my efforts with the case.
“If you’re okay with it, then why do you look so depressed suddenly?” Jolene asked, gesturing to my face.
“Oh, I was just thinking about … reputations.” I petered out.
Jolene’s story about snapping hadn’t actually been a confession of murder, but that didn’t change the fact that she had a motive. I wasn’t sure I should tell her about the other suspects in the case. I fidgeted from one foot to the other from where I stood behind the bar.
As if she knew exactly what I was thinking about, Jolene said, “Well, reputations can be hard to overcome. I hear you. I’ll deny it if you say it outside this room, because it’s an unpopular opinion around here, but I don’t really believe Geoff is guilty.”
When I raised an eyebrow at her, she added, “I know I said I was happy he was getting what he deserved, but the more I think about it, the more it doesn’t make sense.”
“Jolene,” I said, hesitant. “I feel the same way.”
“Right? I mean, the person it makes the most sense to investigate is—”
“Tabitha” we both said at the same time.
Eyes wide, we stared at each other.
“But the chief’s not investigating her,” we both said again. Well, Jolene said Raymond, not the chief, but it was close enough.
Jolene shook her head, adding, “Yeah, and he’s having drinks with her down at the Geoduck right now, staring at her like he’s a lost puppy. All the men in this town do.”
“How can something that’s so obvious to us be so hard for them to see?” I asked in frustration. “I wish that I could hand them proof, something that would change their minds.”
Jolene’s expression loosened, and she stood up. “Let’s go get it, then.”
My head jutted back in surprise. “What?”
She wheeled her hands in a come on kinda way. “She’s out with Raymond. Knowing the Geoduck crowd, they’ll be hours. Let’s go break into Murray’s house and search the place. Then at least we’ll know for sure whether or not there’s something we’re missing.”
Even though her rationale was working on me, I still wrinkled my nose and pursed my lips. “I don’t—”
Jolene interrupted me, holding up a key. “Would it help if we weren’t actually breaking in?”
“Where’d you get that?” I asked, eyes wide.
“I dated the man for almost a year. So what do you say?” she asked, holding the key forward.
Biting my lip for a moment, I finally said, “Let’s do it.”
22
A branch hit me in the face just as a rock underfoot shifted, and I rolled my ankle.
“This was a terrible idea,” I grumbled.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you before,” Jolene whispered from behind me.
I grabbed on to a tree trunk to pull myself up the last bit of the rocky hill separating the two sides of Misty Drive.
The sun was only just setting, and it wasn’t completely dark out yet. I worried we would be too visible, especially dressed all in black like we were. In the nighttime, the black outfits might cloak us. Right now they only brought more attention to us. I’d hoped climbing up and over the rocky median in between the Misty Drive loop would keep us hidden.
It might be doing that, but it was also scratching and bruising me. The rocks were all made of that breakable shale that crumbles on contact and we ended up sliding and skidding our way down the other side.
The one consolation was that it spit us out right next to Murray’s house as his house and mine were on almost opposite sides of the looped road.
Brushing spiderwebs and sticks and leaves from her T-shirt, Jolene strode ahead, jogging across the road and into Murray’s yard.
“Hey, careful,” I whispered forcefully as I jogged after her.
When she stopped and looked back at me, confusion written on her features, I pointed to the many holes littering Murray’s yard and then to her leg.
“You just recovered from the last time, lady. Watch yourself,” I whispered as I passed her and hid behind his old truck.
“He sure has a gopher problem,” Jolene said with a tsk as she joined me crouching behind the truck. “There has to be three times as many holes since I hurt my leg. Murray used to cover them so no one would get hurt, but maybe he just stopped caring.”
It definitely seemed that way. And Tabitha obviously didn’t either as there were even more holes since I’d last been here.
Looking to Jolene, who pulled out the key to the house, I nodded, and we slunk over to the porch. She fiddled with the knob for a few more seconds than I was comfortable with. And just as I was contemplating bagging the whole thing and running back home, the doorknob turned and we slipped inside.
We skirted around the door, locking it again behind us.
We hadn’t been able to locate any gloves in my house, so we were wearing long-sleeve T-shirts with the sleeves pulled over our hands. Definitely not the most professional way to keep our fingerprints off things, but hopefully still effective.
Scents of burnt toast and coffee lingered in the air, but in a faraway sense that told me Tabitha hadn’t done any cooking in here since Murray died. The house was quiet and unlit, well, except for one lamp left on in the living
room and the light above the stove in the kitchen. Having gotten used to the waning light outside, our eyes adjusted to this dim light. I shoved the flashlight, I’d brought with me, into my back pocket, knowing if any neighbors saw the stark beam of a flashlight flashing around the empty house, they would surely alert the chief.
Jolene and I stood in the middle of the main room made up by the living room and small kitchen. We each scanned the space, our gazes meeting in the middle. I hated that there was as much uncertainty, as much question on her features as was in my heart and head.
Where should we even start?
“We could check in the bedroom. See if she’s hiding anything important in there,” Jolene said as if she’d read my mind.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Sure,” I said, instead of calling her out for wanting to check out the bedroom for more personal reasons. “I’ll search out here.”
Taking a step as Jolene disappeared, I felt the ground shift suddenly under me. I let out a cry as I windmilled my arms to keep my balance.
“You okay?” Jolene came running out of the bedroom.
Heart hammering in my ears, I looked down to see the long rug running the length of the living room and toward the kitchen, askew. It must’ve slid when I’d stepped on it.
“Ugh, sorry,” Jolene said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know how many times I told Murray he needed to get a grip under that rug. He told me it was good, that it kept him on his toes. I told him it was going to put someone in a cast one of these days.”
Using my toe to shift the rug back in place, I shook my head. “I’m okay. Just took me by surprise. I’m a little jumpy, I guess.” I smiled at Jolene to show her I was okay.
She nodded and went back to searching the bedroom. More carefully this time, I moved into the kitchen where I noticed a nook that held a desk. If there was a paper trail showing that Tabby was selling the house and, therefore, would’ve had a motive to kill Murray to get it, I hoped they would be in that desk.
I opened all the drawers, rifling through the papers as I skimmed their contents. My face creased closer and closer together as disappointment scrunched up my features. There wasn’t anything that proved Tabby was trying to sell the place.