Matcha Do About Murder

by Eryn Scott

  At first, he appeared upset, then sad, then a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He ran a hand over his jaw.

  “As always, Rosie, you know my mind better than I do. I think you’re absolutely right. I hope you are. Going about the way I’ve been hasn’t gotten me anywhere. I ran away from my duties in life, and I’ve done exactly the same thing in the century since. I think this might be my unfinished business. I’m being kept here to help others, to atone for running away when others needed me.”

  I didn’t try to argue, just listened.

  “So that’s what I’m going to do,” he said, puffing out his chest like he’d just taken in a deep breath. “I’m going to help people. Living people, spirits, whatever, I’m here to serve. Maybe that’s how I can convince the universe or whoever makes the calls about who stays and goes, that I’ve changed.”

  I nodded. “I think it’s a wonderful plan.”

  While I didn’t think he needed to prove anything or explain, it was his journey, not mine. Just as I’d had to do the work and go through my own healing and take responsibility for what my life had become, he had to decide his path forward. I was just glad that path was next to mine again.

  “Your mom’s here for the weekend, then?” he asked, turning back toward the house.

  “She leaves tomorrow. It’s been nice to have her, but it’ll be nice to get back to normal on Monday.”

  “And what does normal look like now? Tell me everything I missed. Did you guys ever figure out who killed Murray?”

  We started walking toward the house, but I stopped, knowing I wouldn’t be able to chat with Asher if Mom was inside.

  “We did. Tabitha’s husband, Stephen, was behind the whole thing. He didn’t actually die that night in the boat fire.”

  Asher’s head jerked back in surprise. “So he was the ghost you said Murray talked about?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t even realize I’d seen him that day on the boardwalk until I noticed a picture of him in Murray’s house, and they confirmed it was Stephen. By then it was too late, and before I knew it he was pointing a gun at us.”

  “A gun?” Asher frowned. “Us?”

  I sat on a log of driftwood. “Yeah, Jolene and I broke into Murray’s looking for the last piece of evidence to prove Tabitha was the killer. But she came home early, and the guy who the police had pictures of leaving prison with Geoff was threatening to kill her. Jolene and I did the only thing we could think of: we jumped out and surprised him.”

  Asher laughed. “And I wonder how I came to this ‘help people’ conclusion. I’ve been hanging out with you too much.”

  I smiled. “Well, Tabitha hit the guy with a lamp and knocked him unconscious, but just when we were about to call the police, Stephen arrived and, get this, was searching for buried treasure.”

  “Like pirates.” Asher pushed his lips forward in an impressed didn’t see that one coming way.

  “Murray and Stephen hadn’t been fishing partners; they’d been running guns from Central America. And being paid in jewels, mostly diamonds it seemed. Tabitha and Stephen wanted to cut Murray out of it when he began to have second thoughts—and when he apparently made a move on Tabitha—so they staged the whole thing to look like the arms dealers had killed Stephen. Murray and Tabitha burned the boat to hide the evidence.”

  “And pinned it on Geoff.” Asher winced as if he’d just realized what this all meant for the guy who’d taken the fall.

  It still frustrated me to think about the jail time the man had served for nothing. “Murray buried the jewels, vowing to never use them because they’d gotten his friend killed, and Tabitha left from a ‘broken heart,’” I said, using air quotes. “But really, she and Stephen moved down south and became even more involved with the gun trade. They'd been living down in Panama for the last couple of decades, traveling around the world and running guns where they could.”

  I thought through all the information the chief had shared after the case had been closed, about how Mike had refused to spill any information on his family in exchange for a lower sentence. But it didn’t matter because one of his “friends” from inside spoke up and helped take down at least half of the family when they were visiting California the next week.

  To Asher, I explained, “Through Mike’s family, the chief found out that Stephen had gotten in a little trouble and needed to make some money fast, so he sent Tabitha up here to get the jewels they knew Murray had hidden in his yard. But once Tabitha was here, she saw her chance to steal the jewels for herself and make a run for it. When she and Murray got married, Stephen became furious and suspicious, so he tried to poison them both, hiring one of the family members who’d just been released from prison to do the job, since he knew wouldn’t be able to get close enough without being recognized.”

  “So Tabitha didn’t kill Murray?” Asher asked.

  “No, but she was the reason he died. And she’s the one who burned down my shed,” I added with an angry exhale.

  “And she survived.”

  I nodded. “The chief actually saved her life. He was the one who called her that morning. He was waiting outside the tea shop and wanted to talk to her, to convince her to be with him instead of Murray. He didn’t know they’d gotten married at that point and was hoping for a grand gesture, which was why he was so weird.”

  Asher frowned. “People faking their deaths, poisoning lovers and friends; this sounds like a Shakespearean play.”

  “Matcha Do About Murder,” I said with a chuckle.

  Asher exhaled a laugh. “I’m glad you’re okay. How were you able to get away from Stephen?”

  I shrugged. “I may have used the Rickster’s advice with the element of surprise. But Tabitha ran. She didn’t get far, of course. They set up a roadblock heading out of town and caught her trying to leave. Her trial is next week. The chief was pretty upset.”

  Asher turned his attention back to the house. “Looks like he’s doing okay now.”

  We stared through the window where I could see the chief and Mom chatting as they cleaned up from the book club. We sat there in silence for a moment.

  “What else is going on?” Asher asked.

  I drew half circles in the sand with the toe of my shoe. “Well, Jolene is meeting with her sister today, trying to patch things up. Almost dying will do that to you. And the whole town is abuzz because some rich guy inherited The Pines a few weeks back and he’s moving in. He brought in a ton of contractors and excavating equipment yesterday.”

  Asher wrinkled his nose. “Good. I hope they tear that house down.”

  I didn’t have warm feelings toward the farmhouse since I’d almost been killed there a few months back, but the anger Asher displayed surprised me.

  “I thought you’ve never been there. You said it wasn’t around when you were alive.”

  He shook his head. “Most of the building is new, added on after I died, but the house was there when I was alive.” The way he clenched his jaw made me want to ask more.

  But before I could, I noticed Daphne running toward the teahouse. Then a moment later, the chief ran out, got in his car, and peeled out.

  Asher and I glanced at each other and ran toward the house.

  27

  I burst into the house, using the back door. My mom huddled with the remaining book club members, including Daphne. Asher stood close by my side. After so many weeks without him, it felt right to have him back.

  “What happened?” I asked, looking toward my neighbor.

  Daphne wrung her hands in front of her. “It’s just awful. I was telling them there was a body found up at The Pines.”

  My stomach flipped with discomfort, and I felt the tea and scones from our book club meeting threatening to come back up.

  Another body? But we’d just gotten back to normal.

  So that was why Chief Clemenson had gone racing out of here. Worry gripped my heart as I asked, “Another one of Althea’s victims?”

  The former doctor had be
en running a scam of a restorative center and had killed to keep her secrets. My grandmother had been first, at least, I thought. But I wouldn’t put it past Althea to have hidden even darker secrets. I shivered at the memory of the woman and how she’d been so close to ending my life.

  It turned out there was no need for me to bring up those difficult memories because Daphne said, “No. Very old remains. It looks like they’re from World War I.”

  Mom’s eyebrows rose, intrigued. “How can they tell?”

  “They found his military tags near the remains. They’re the circular kind that they used in World War I, apparently.” Daphne shrugged as if she hadn’t known there even were such differences.

  A hot, metallic taste coated my tongue, and my face flushed with heat. World War I. I wanted to glance over, to see Asher’s face, but couldn’t muster the courage. There were more soldiers who came out of this town. It might not be his body.

  “Could they read the name off the tags?” Mom asked, the researcher in her loving every moment.

  Daphne nodded. “It was a Second Lieutenant Asher Benson.”

  I couldn’t breathe. And I also couldn’t hold off looking at Asher any longer. I moved toward the nearest table in the tearoom and pulled out a chair. Once I sat down, my eyes found Asher’s, but he wasn’t paying attention to me. His gaze focused somewhere far away, past the walls of this house, maybe even to a different time.

  Asher’s jaw clenched tight, so tight that if he’d been alive, I would’ve worried he might break a tooth.

  “Asher Benson,” Mom said through a gasp. “He’s the young man who used to live in this house.” Mom whirled to face me. “The one you had me research. The deserter.”

  Asher flinched at the word, and I cringed, wishing everyone would stop talking about him when he was right here in the room. I longed to hold his hand, to take him away from here so he wouldn’t have to listen to any of this.

  Clearing my throat, I said, “Yeah, I found out he used to live in this house.” Focusing on Daphne, I tried to move the conversation away from his desertion by asking, “How did they come across … this?” I couldn’t bring myself to say, “the body.”

  I knew Asher was dead, had since right after I’d met him. But thinking of his body made it all seem too real. Asher was the strong young man with broad shoulders and dark hair, swept to one side. He had a bit of stubble, a little more than a five o’clock shadow. As he’d explained to me, he’d let it grow for a few days so he could get a nice clean shave the morning he was supposed to meet up with his regiment.

  “They were clearing trees around the edge of the property, and when they pulled up one of the stumps, the skeleton came with,” Daphne explained, finally appearing as horrified as I’d felt this whole time. “What an awful thing to happen.”

  Mom and the others in the room shook their heads, whispering their own versions of Daphne’s statement. Tears threatened at the corners of my eyes as Asher pressed his lips together and turned to face me. Those same blue eyes that had showed concern for me and had crinkled and lit up with laughter seemed almost fractured in that moment.

  And then he was gone.

  I felt like swearing. I had just gotten him back. He’d been doing so much better. But this … I didn’t know how anyone dealt with this. My heart ached all over again.

  “What did you say about him deserting, Kate?” Daphne asked my mom.

  This time I didn’t have the energy to steer the conversation away from the topic. And I supposed it didn’t matter anyway, since Asher left.

  “Rosemary asked me to help her do a little research on the man a couple of months back. We found out he was a World War I deserter.”

  Mom sounded like she could go on about all the detailed researching minutia, but Daphne and the others turned toward me, the same question written on each of their faces: Why would you need to know that?

  “Grandma had been looking into it,” I croaked out the lie. “Found a sticky note and thought I’d follow it to see where it led.”

  They nodded, appeased. Not only had my grandma been known for her odd interests, but her cryptic notes were also well known. It was easier to lie than stumble my way through something even resembling the truth.

  “I don’t know what you read, but Asher Benson did not kill himself.” Daphne fluffed her over-hair-sprayed do.

  Mom blinked. Surprise and then incredulity flashed across her features. No one called my mom out on her research skills without getting pulled into a lengthy debate.

  But I didn’t care about the research. I furrowed my brow as I refused to let myself get too excited about her statement. “What? How would you know?”

  “His”—she stopped to grimace before saying—“skull, it was fractured.” Daphne gestured to her own head with her palm. She motioned to the back of her skull. “Poor Second Lieutenant Asher Benson was most definitely murdered.”

  The tearoom spun around me. Being the only other person in the room who would even slightly understand my surprise, I locked eyes with my mother. Her mouth opened in shock, but a smile curled at the edges of her lips.

  And while it might seem crass to smile about the news that a person had been murdered, I understood. We’d been right to doubt the records. Asher had been right to think he wouldn’t run from his duty to his country.

  Mom and I watched the sun set together that night from the beach. Once the sun dipped below the horizon, Mom gave me the blanket she’d brought out with her and said she was going to read inside for a little while before bed.

  I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders as thoughts churned in my mind. They’d settled from the whirring fervor they’d been in earlier. I just wished Asher knew what I did. It pained me to think of him floating out there, alone and upset.

  Closing my eyes, I inhaled as deep as my lungs would allow. When I opened my eyes again, a familiar presence sat next to me on the log. His wool pants appeared as real as the jeans I’d changed into before Mom and I had come out to see the sunset.

  I held back my grin, not wanting to seem insensitive.

  “Asher, there’s something important you need to know.” I pivoted on my driftwood seat to face him.

  When I did, I immediately caught the sparkle in his eye.

  “You know, don’t you?” The smile I’d been hiding finally spread across my face.

  Asher returned the gesture. “It seems so weird to be excited about something this awful, but I am.”

  Pressing my lips together, I frowned. “I know. I’m so sorry. But I’m glad you were right. I’m sure it’s been weird thinking you know who you were and then being forced to doubt that.”

  He dipped his head in agreement but said nothing.

  “How did you find out?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

  Asher jerked his thumb back toward the cliff behind us, where The Pines was located. “I went to check out the site for myself, saw the damage.” He cleared his throat.

  Eyebrows rising in surprise, I said, “That’s where you went?”

  “Yeah, where’d you think I—” Breaking off, his eyes widened. “You thought I went off to sulk by myself, like I have been for the past month or more. Fair enough.”

  My expression softened. “I shouldn’t have thought that. You’re changing. I need to see that in you too.”

  Asher ran his hands up and down his face as if he were tired, as if he could get tired anymore. “Thanks, Rosie.”

  He set his hands on either side of him. I placed my hand over his—well, technically through his, but it felt like the only thing I could do.

  “It’s good to have you back, Asher.”

  He glanced down at my hand and his. “Thanks. It’s good to be back.” Frowning, he added, “You look freezing. We should go inside.”

  Shaking my head, I pulled the blanket tighter around me. “No, Mom’s inside, so we won’t be able to talk. Plus I want to sit out here and remember tonight forever. The night you were able to prove that you knew yourself, t
hat you were right.”

  “Okay, a little longer can’t hurt, I suppose.” He settled back a little as if he were leaning into his favorite chair inside.

  “So are you still going to keep helping the living and nonliving mission statement?” I asked, turning to stare out at the waves again.

  “Of course,” Asher said. “Even more so now.” When I looked at him in question, he elaborated. “Now, as someone whose life was cut short by a great wrong, I get to be a vigilante for justice. Plus I’d better use my time wisely because now that I know I was murdered, we can figure out who killed me. My unfinished business will be taken care of, and I can finally cross over to the other side.” He smiled big.

  I nodded but remained silent.

  Now that the sun’s rays were no longer visible along the horizon, moonlight spilled over the pebbles, sand, and surf. Asher’s spirit glistened in the silvery light. I understood why people had portrayed ghosts as glowing specters. If someone had seen a spirit in the nighttime, they might think they always glow like this.

  No matter how many times I witnessed it, it was one of my favorite sights. One of, but definitely not my favorite version of Asher.

  The best, I realized with an emotional kick to the gut, was when he was inside the house, looking as real as anything or anyone around him. And that’s the problem, I thought as I glanced over at my friend. I see him as too real, too big a part of my life.

  I needed to work on that because he wouldn’t always be around, and it would be better if I got used to that idea now.

  “Ash, what happened to Abigail?” I asked, looking out into the darkness.

  “What do you mean?” His voice was deep, almost as low as the ever-constant hum of the waves.

  “You implied she didn’t end up well during our conversation about her, but you never finished.”

  He was silent for a moment. I was just about to turn toward him when he said, “That, my friend, might be a story for a different night. Selfishly, I want nothing to ruin the way I feel right now, here with you.”