Matcha Do About Murder

by Eryn Scott

  Yet, I thought to myself, maybe she’s smart and is waiting until the chief wraps up the investigation before pulling her getaway.

  I also searched for any evidence that Tabby had access to angel's trumpet or knew how to make a tincture or anything to do with poisoning a person. But if she had anything of the sort, it was locked safely away.

  What wasn’t put away was two more tropical photo albums.

  I flipped through these, but they were mostly of a trip to Central America.

  Jolene emerged from the bedroom. Her eyes looked a little puffy and red, but I kept my focus on the album to give her some space. I flipped from page to page and stared, studying the pictures and the captions I’d been too busy to read before.

  Finally, Jolene sniffed and seemed to collect herself. “The bedroom didn’t help. Nothing even remotely clue-like in there,” she said, unable to disguise the slight wobble in her voice.

  Regular me, sympathetic me, would’ve looked up and said something supportive, or maybe even given her a hug.

  Instead, I stared at the album in my hands.

  “You find out anything out here?” Jolene asked, clearing her throat to get rid of the tickle.

  “Uh, yeah. I think I did.” I glanced up, just as surprised as Jolene looked.

  Gesturing to the photo book, I swiveled so she could see as she stepped closer.

  “Tabitha traveled all over the world.”

  Jolene scoffed, “I know. I’ve read her blog.”

  Having been similarly unimpressed, I said, “But this whole photo book is of Panama.”

  I flipped through a few pages to demonstrate.

  “So?” Jolene asked. “She probably has a hundred pictures wherever she goes and could make a whole book out of each one.”

  “Sure,” I said, “but if you look closely at the captions. These are all from different dates, different trips. Her book on Brazil was all from one trip. But these are all different years. She must’ve been to Panama over a dozen times at this point.”

  Jolene nodded, but I could tell that she didn’t really understand what this might mean.

  She hadn’t learned what I had from Geoff about his jail buddy.

  “The guy that you noticed hanging out near the drinks that morning … the one Chief Clemenson linked to Geoff because they were released the same day, told Geoff all about how his family moved from California to Panama.” Jolene took in the information. But her face didn’t blossom in awe like I was experiencing inside as I figured this out, so I kept explaining.

  “What if that guy was hired to put the poison in Murray’s drink, not by Geoff to get revenge after all of these years, but by Tabitha instead?”

  “Guys do have a way of doing whatever she asks,” Jolene muttered as she pondered this new information.

  “If we can find a way to prove the connection between Mike Smith and Tabitha, the chief will have to take her seriously as a suspect.” I snapped my fingers and kept thumbing through the pictures, hoping for something with people in it, preferably a picture of Tabitha and Mike, hugging or looking like long-lost friends.

  But before we could search any further, the squeak of a key press into the lock of the front door echoed through the house. Without thinking, I yanked open the closet door, grabbed Jolene, and pulled her inside after me.

  I gently closed the door just as I heard the front door swing open.

  Tabitha’s high-heeled sandals clicked on the wooden floor.

  “It’s quite the surprise,” she said to herself.

  There she was talking again like she was with someone. I was about to add it to the anecdotal proof I was building to support this woman being crazy when she said, “What’s it been? A decade?”

  “Thirteen years,” said a man.

  Both Jolene and I jumped in surprise. Jolene grasped my hand with hers, and I could feel her using the coats next to us to steady herself. I took a step to the side and felt a board give way more than I was expecting. It creaked as I took my weight off it. I held my breath, hoping they hadn’t heard anything.

  Tabby must not have because she tsked and said, “Mike Smith in my kitchen. I can’t believe it.” The way her tone softened made it sound like a smirk curled across her lips.

  I couldn’t see Jolene in the closet’s darkness, but I bet her expression was something like mine: excited and terrified all at once.

  We’d officially found proof Tabitha knew Mike Smith, but I didn’t see how we would get out of here alive enough to tell anyone.

  23

  Jolene squeezed my hand in the dark closet. She was trying to communicate that she’d heard it too. This was the clue we needed, the link we’d been looking for. Tabitha must’ve hired Mike to poison Murray for her.

  Jolene was right to use nonverbal modes of communication, though. All of this would be over if they heard us. My heart raced as I wondered how long we might have to wait in hiding until they left, or Tabitha went to sleep.

  My nose itched, and I suddenly became fixated with how much dust was probably in here with us. Sneezing now could mean life or death.

  I fumbled with my phone. If I could get the chief out here to witness this, he wouldn’t be able to deny Tabitha and Mike’s friendship. But when I pressed the screen, nothing happened. Too late, I remembered that I hadn’t charged the thing last night after everything happened with Asher. I squeezed Jolene’s hand, hoping to communicate to her I needed her to use her phone. She simply squeezed my hand back. Gritting my teeth, I knew I couldn’t chance whispering. Which meant we needed to wait out the criminals.

  I leaned closer to the door to hear the conversation happening on the other side.

  “What are you doing here?” Tabitha asked.

  And at first I thought she just meant, at her house, right now.

  “You don’t know?” Mike said in such a sinister way that I instantly doubted their chumminess.

  Tabitha sucked in a quick breath. “The other drink was for me. I was supposed to die with Murray.”

  “You’re a loose end, sweetheart,” Mike said. “He can’t trust you.”

  I could picture her shaking her head as she said, “No. He can trust me. Haven’t I proven it enough?”

  “What was with the radio silence the past few days, then?” Mike asked.

  “I just talked to him the other day,” she said.

  “Yeah, and he said you were weird. You hung up on him.”

  “A neighbor showed up asking a bunch of questions. I had to go.” Tabitha’s tone dropped from the alarmed pitch to her normal low-and-honeyed standard.

  That had been me, I realized with a jolt. I was the neighbor. So she had been on the phone, but with whom?

  Beside me, Jolene fidgeted. Holding my hand as she was, her motion put me off-balance. I stepped to the side to steady myself, but my foot landed on that loose board again. This time my foot sank down a couple inches as the board teetered. I could hear the other end of the board swish against the bottoms of coats as it lifted while my side sank down. Cringing, I lifted my weight off that foot, letting the board settle back into place.

  My heartbeat pulsed so loudly in my ears, I couldn’t hear if they were still talking.

  They weren’t. It was silent. Had they heard me?

  The sound of a gun being cocked made me want to cry. I closed my eyes, ready for the closet door to whip open.

  “Mike, please. I can give you money,” Tabitha pleaded. “I’m close. I swear.”

  I peeled open my eyes, though it made a negligible difference in the inky black of the closet. They hadn’t heard me. He was pointing the gun at Tabitha. While I was relieved, the gun wasn’t being pointed at me, it did little to dampen the severity of the situation.

  “Sorry, Tab. Job’s a job,” Mike said, lacking any emotion.

  It was in that moment that I knew I couldn’t stand by and let Tabitha get shot. I can’t say that what happened next was part of any kind of plan. Honestly, I doubt my brain was even involved in the
decision. But regardless of how it happened, my hand reached out, grasped the closet doorknob, and pushed open as I turned. I let out a hopefully terrifying yell as I ran into the room. The sound of stumbling feet told me Jolene had followed me.

  “Stop!” I screamed as I ran forward, arms raised. I searched the room for the man holding the gun.

  Mike’s eyes went wide, and his grip loosened on the weapon. Tabitha also jumped in surprise, but she was quicker to recover than Mike. She used the extra seconds to reach forward and wrestle the gun from his grasp.

  Just as her fingers wrapped around it, his fist contracted to hold on to the weapon.

  We all jumped as the gun went off. Luckily, it was pointing up at the ceiling. Plaster showered down on the wood floor.

  Fear raked over my skin as I thought about Mike getting a better grip and firing another shot. That was when I realized there were three of us and only one of him. Curling my fingers into fists, I ran toward where he was still grappling with Tabitha. Ducking my shoulder as I approached, I shoved him with all the power I could muster.

  He let out a grunt as he careened toward the couch. The sweet sound of the gun clattering to the floor echoed through the room. Mike staggered, caught off-balance, but I hadn’t even knocked him off his feet. I suppose I expected Tabitha to pick up the gun, so when I turned around and saw her hurling a lamp at Mike’s head, surprise froze me on the spot.

  The clay base shattered in large chunks as it collided with Mike’s skull. He crumpled into a heap near the couch.

  Blood pulsed in my ears. I worried he might be dead until his chest rose and then fell. Part of me wanted to run and grab his weapon from the floor, but the rest of me shivered at the thought of holding the thing. Even if he wakes up, Mike is too far to grab the thing anyway, I consoled myself.

  “We have to call the police,” I said, grasping for my phone instead of the gun. I swiped at the screen again before remembering it was dead.

  “No.” Tabitha pushed the word forward as she stepped toward me, a hand outstretched as if asking for my phone. “Please, you can’t.”

  Jolene scoffed, “Yeah, because you obviously knew this man and were a part of why Murray is dead.”

  “I had nothing to do with Murray’s death,” Tabitha spit the words as she whirled to face Jolene. Her expression softened, the anger leaving her features like the tide slowly pulling out to sea. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” She paced, her posture deflating ever so slightly with each pass. She stopped and looked at us. “You two need to get out of here.” She gestured to Mike, lying unconscious on the floor. “If you think he’s bad, you haven’t seen anything until you meet his nightmare of a boss.”

  “So he killed Murray?” I asked, tucking my dead phone back into my pocket.

  She glanced at me then nodded. “And I was supposed to die too. I’ve been trying to break free from that life. They found out and wanted to punish me.”

  I thought back to the luxurious travel blog with all the amenities. It looked so lavish, but at what price? It was obvious from Tabitha’s wild state that she would do anything to get away.

  “Come with us,” I pleaded. “Clemenson cares about you. He’ll protect you, not matter what you’ve gotten involved in.” I didn’t really know if that were the case, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

  Tabitha frowned. “Then he’ll be in more danger. I need to disappear.” She closed her eyes. “I’m so close. I just needed a little more time.”

  She moved toward the couch and began flipping cushions onto the ground. Shoving her hands into the creases, she huffed, stepped over Mike’s unconscious body, and turned her focus toward the kitchen cabinets. Pots and pans clanged together as she shoved them aside, running her hand along the backs of each open space.

  “Close to what?” I asked, glancing over at Jolene who appeared equally confused. “What are you searching for?”

  Memories of her patting down Murray’s body when he’d collapsed pushed their way forward in my confused mind.

  “Tabitha, we can help y—” I started to say, but Jolene stepped forward with her phone out and interrupted me.

  “Tell us what you’re looking for right now, or I will call the police.” Jolene’s voice was taut, leaving no room for nonsense. Her fingers moved across the screen as if she were dialing a number.

  Tabitha stopped what she was doing and turned to face us. “Jewels. Murray has a stash of jewels worth millions. He buried them a long time ago, out in his yard. If I can find the stash, I can run away and finally be free of this nightmare life.” Curling her fingers into fists, she said, “I thought for sure he moved them inside because of all the holes in the yard, but maybe I was wrong, and I need to look outside again.” She scratched at her nose and stared at the back door. Then she eyed Jolene’s still outstretched phone and held still.

  I shared a quick glance with Jolene. The holes in the yard weren’t from gophers at all, but from Murray and Tabitha digging for … buried treasure? The thought almost seemed too silly. But the reality of what it meant wasn’t funny at all.

  “How in the world did Murray get millions in jewels?” Jolene’s question was followed by an indignant snort.

  Tabitha seemed tired and impatient, but Jolene typed a few things into her phone and held her thumb over the screen.

  “He and Stephen didn’t make their money through fishing, like most of the people here in Pebble Cove. They made most of their money running guns down to Central America.”

  Panama, I realized. That was why Tabitha had been there so many times. I knew it had something to do with all of this. Any triumph I felt was quickly quashed by what it meant.

  “Murray was breaking the law?” The question sounded so naïve as Jolene asked it.

  Tabitha rolled her eyes. “He was a terrible crabber and an even worse fisherman. When he inherited his uncle’s boat, he was going to sell it, but Stephen and I moved back to town, and Stephen convinced him to keep it. He knew someone who had a connection looking for a way to get guns down south using boats. They paid us in diamonds and jewels, things that were hard to trace. Told us not to sell them all at once.”

  “So you did marry Murray for his money.” Jolene spat out the accusation.

  Tabitha frowned. “I didn’t want to, but he asked me, and I hadn’t found what I was searching for yet. I said yes to buy myself a little more time to look, but …” She swallowed the end of the sentence.

  “But you still planned to leave him and steal from him.” Jolene crossed her arms in front of her chest, keeping her phone clenched in one palm.

  Tabitha held up her hands. “Not all of it. Just enough that I could get away. Murray doesn’t have any family who could use the money, and he didn’t even want it. That’s why he buried it. After that night, he told me he never wanted to touch it again.”

  “What night?” I blurted, realizing I’d said it aloud and not in my thoughts. But somehow, I felt like I already knew.

  The night of the fire. The night Stephen died.

  Geoff’s sincerity about not being the one who’d set the fire clanged in my brain like a warning bell.

  “You and Murray set the fire, didn’t you?” I asked, but it wasn’t really a question, especially after seeing the way her face tightened.

  Jolene sucked in a breath. My heartbeat jumped up in tempo. Tabby did the same nervous check over her shoulder. Her gaze lingered on something on the wall. I was just about to accuse her of killing her first husband and blaming someone else when my attention caught on what she’d been looking at.

  A picture of Murray and another man standing on a boat was framed and hanging from a wall around the corner. They had their arms around each other’s shoulders and smiles on their faces as bright as the orange waders they wore. They looked to be almost my age and happy.

  “That’s him, isn’t it?” I said. “Stephen.”

  But as his name left my lips, my stomach dropped. I didn’t need to see Tabitha’s nod
to know it was Stephen. Fear spiked through my limbs.

  I’d seen him before. The morning Murray had died, Stephen had been walking along the boardwalk by Jolene’s shop. He was the ghost Murray had seen.

  Of course you saw him, I admonished myself. You can see ghosts and he died off the coast. He’s probably been hanging around town.

  The goose bumps rising along my arms insisted that wasn’t right. If he’d died right around the age he was in the photograph, he should’ve been the same age as a ghost. I didn’t know the rules, but all the ghosts I’d encountered seemed to be represented as they age they were when they died. He’d been older. Murray’s age.

  “Stephen never died that night, did he?” I asked, my words seeming to bring a frigid chill into the sweltering room.

  Tabitha’s expression froze into a terrified grimace. At first, I thought she just didn’t like being reminded of that night, but then I heard the footsteps behind me.

  The chill from a moment before hadn’t been from my words but from the back door opening. And inside strode Stephen, a gun clenched in his hands.

  24

  The gun in his hands should’ve scared me the most, but what actually won out was the smirk on his face.

  His attention barely lingered on me or Jolene. It was as if we were nothing more than flies, annoyances to swat away and forget. His focus didn’t even stay on Tabitha all that long. Instead, his eyes slid to Mike’s body on the floor. He leaned closer to get a better look.

  “I don’t see too much blood, so I’m assuming he’s only unconscious.” Stephen raised his eyebrows and looked at Tabitha, who nodded quickly.

  He spent the next moments checking the bedroom and closet, keeping his gun trained on us. Then he walked back into the center of the room.

  “I figured your precious policeman would be here with you. He’s been following you around like a lovesick puppy for the past few days. But as it’s just the three of you, I think I can handle myself, unlike Michael over there.” He sneered at the man’s body.