by Amy Lilly
"Wade brought me a change of clothes. I'm going to go grab a quick shower while he goes and gets my things out of the car. He needs to grab his wheelchair, too. We’ll be right in the next room if you need us." Juliet and Wade headed down the hallway. I was alone with Grant. Juliet and Wade obviously didn’t think he was a threat, but the evidence against him was stacking up.
"You want me to help you wash?" Grant had a clean dishtowel in his hands. He picked up a glass and started to dry it.
"That's okay. I can do it. You're probably tired after working all day, so you can head on home. Wade and Juliet have promised to hang around tonight. I should probably get some sleep after last night."
"I wish I could've been here for you, Phee." His voice softened and he said, "I know that we're just friends, but I'm here for you if you ever need me. And one day, if you decide you want to be more than just friends...."
"Grant, I don't think I am going to see you in any other light than as a friend. I'm sorry." I didn't meet his eyes and continued to wash the dishes in the sink. I felt like I was walking a thin line here, but I needed to let him know that I just didn't feel that way about him. "I wasn't going to tell you, but I guess I should. I've started seeing Clint." I said it quickly and waited for his reaction. My hands gripped a fork under the bubbles just in case I had to defend myself.
"That's great, Phee," Grant said. I looked up at him with surprise. "What? Listen, I'll admit that I have feelings for you, but you have also been my best friend for years. I just want you to be happy. If Clint is what makes you happy, then I'm glad. A little hurt and maybe a whole lot jealous, but I’ve tried, and I guess it wasn't meant to be. I'll be here to pick up the pieces if it doesn't work out. I know you've been half in love with Clint for years, but his track record with women isn't the best. From what I hear, he changes women as often as I change my underwear." I released the fork and turned to look at him.
I felt the tension slide off my body as I realized that there was no way that Grant could be a murderer. He wasn’t upset about Clint and me at all. Surely if he was the killer, he would have reacted with anger instead of calm acceptance. "I know Clint’s dated a lot of women, but I've got to take a chance. And thanks for making me feel like crap!" I teased him. "Grant, you are such a great guy and we've been through thick and thin together, but I just don't feel "that way" about you. Maybe it's because I saw you shove a green bean up your nose on a dare."
"I had to defend my honor. I rose to the challenge of nose-stuffing at the lunch table and was victorious." He thrust out his chest like a knight in shining armor. "However, I did learn to never pick dare again during a game of Truth or Dare. You play for keeps."
"You really are the best. Some woman is going to be lucky to have you, and then I will probably hate her for stealing away my friend." I gave him a fierce hug.
"I'll make sure she is tall and blonde and a cheerleader. That will pay you back for not picking me!" He play punched me lightly on the arm.
"Speaking of tall, blonde cheerleaders, was the married woman Carla?" I asked abruptly. I needed to know.
"Yeah, it was." Grant refused to meet my gaze. "It was right after I moved back into town and was looking for a house. She was my real estate agent. To be honest, she said she was separated, but I kind of knew it was a lie. I guess I let myself believe it because mentally, I was back in high school and she was the hot cheerleader."
"Oh, Grant. I thought you hated her. I just never imagined you would sleep with Carla," I admonished him.
"It was one time and instead of feeling like a big shot, I felt like a total loser. I mean, it's been almost ten years since high school and I still felt like this nerdy guy who wasn't allowed to sit at the table with the jocks. Here I am, a big shot attorney with a sports car, a home and a great career, and sometimes I still feel like I am still sixteen. Afterwards, I called it off. I had to duck her calls for a week. After that, I didn't hear from her again. The only time I talked to her again was at the breakfast. Mad at me?" He gave me a hang dog look.
"No. I kind of understand myself. I guess we are growing up, aren't we?"
"Yep." He grinned. "I think I am so much more mature than you though.”
"Ha!" I rolled the tea towel and snapped him playfully.
"I rest my case,” he laughed. "I'm going to head home and let you get some rest. Call me tomorrow?"
"Ok. Thanks for stopping by." I walked him to the door.
"Anytime, Phee. That's what friends are for," Grant wrapped his arm around my shoulder and hugged me to him. He opened the door. Clint was there with his hand raised to knock. It dropped to his side and the look on his face was thunderous. I squirmed uncomfortably under Grant's arm. "Hey there, Clint. I was just leaving. I came over to help watch over my friend here. With all this crazy stuff going on in town, you can never be too careful."
"Grant." Clint bit off his name between clenched teeth. "Perfect timing. I needed to talk to you anyway about all this so-called crazy stuff. I think my office would be a good place to have that conversation, don't you?"
"Sure, I'd be happy to help your investigation. Thanks again for dinner, Phee. Call me if you need me." Grant just couldn't resist the last little jibe at Clint. I guess he wasn't going to give up quite as easily as he said. "Okay if I follow you in my car, Deputy?"
"That's fine." Clint was bristling with anger. "I'll talk to you later, Phee." He turned and strode off the porch towards his car.
"Okay," I said in a small voice and shut the door behind me. I leaned against the door and heaved a sigh. Clint was obviously livid that Grant was here. It wasn't my fault that he had shown up. Clint had to understand that Grant and I had been best friends all throughout high school. If he gave me a chance to explain what happened, I knew he would calm down. Clint was wrong about Grant, too. Grant wasn't trying to hide anything. If he was the murderer, would he have admitted to having a relationship with Carla? He didn't really have anything against Huey as far as I knew. And if he hadn't killed Carla, then he couldn't have killed Duane. I sighed in frustration. Investigating was a lot harder in real life. I needed to get my little gray cells working harder.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
“You are my best friend as well as my lover, and I do not know which side of you I enjoy the most. I treasure each side, just as I have treasured our life together.” - Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook
The next morning, I woke up early. Wade and Juliet were still asleep. I walked quietly into the kitchen and made myself some coffee and went to grab the morning paper. When I stepped out of onto the porch, I saw Clint's truck parked in my driveway behind Velma. He looked to be asleep in the driver’s seat. I pulled my robe tighter around my waist to stave off the morning chill and walked over. His head was back against the headrest and his mouth was slightly open. I rapped my knuckles against the driver's side window. Clint startled awake and looked around wildly until he realized where he was. He gave me a grimace and opened the truck door to step out.
"So angry with me you decided to sleep outside?" I asked.
"No. By the time I got done down at the station it was after midnight. I went home, let Watson out for a bit, but I couldn't sleep. I was worried about you, so I drove over. All the lights were out. I didn't want to wake you, but I didn't want to go home, either. I'm worried, Phee."
"Come on in the house and let me make you a cup of coffee. I take it that you didn't arrest Grant?" I walked back into the house and he followed behind me. "Wade and Juliet are still asleep."
Clint poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. "No, I didn't arrest him. He admitted to having an affair with Carla, but says it was a one-night stand and not anything to kill her over. I actually believe him on that one. He claims he was at his office working when Duane was killed. A stock clerk at Abe's Market across the street didn't leave work until late since it’s his job to mop the floors after they close at nine. He left around 11:30 and said the lights were on in the law firm and he could se
e the shadow of someone sitting at their desk. Plus, he saw a "sweet ride" sitting in the parking lot and went over to check it out. Grant's car was definitely parked at his office. It's not an airtight alibi, but I don't have enough to hold him."
"I didn't invite him over here. Wade ran into him and told him what had happened. Grant kind of invited himself to dinner. I didn't know what to do," I explained. "Grant wants to be more than friends, but I told him I wasn't interested in him."
"I know," Clint sighed. "He was pretty forthright and a little arrogant about how he thought that I wasn't good enough for you. He let me know in no uncertain terms that he planned on biding his time and waiting until I got bored with you and moved on. I wanted to throw his ass in a cell just for that."
"Are you going to get bored with me?" I asked in a small, quiet voice. I held my breath waiting for his response.
"Phee, I can't promise you anything right now. I don't have a crystal ball, and I can't predict the future. But what I do know," he reached over and grabbed my hand, "is that I want you and I care for you. I don't plan on going anywhere. How about we just take it one day at a time and see how it goes?"
"That works for me," I said letting out the breath that I was holding. "I like one day at a time." I smiled at him.
"Good. Glad that's settled because I'd hate to have to punch Grant in his perfect little teeth," Clint deadpanned.
"Clint! That's not funny. Grant and I have been friends forever. He was my friend when I had braces and Christmas tree shaped hair. He's really a good guy and I think you'd like him if you got to know him better." I waved my spoon from my coffee at him in admonishment.
"I'll take your word for it," Clint grimaced. "I'm at a standstill with this investigation now that Grant is somewhat in the clear. Maybe I've got this all wrong, and it isn't related to you. Maybe the rose was a random prank. I keep picking away at the threads connecting all the cases and coming up empty. There has to be something that ties them all together."
"I just hope you figure it out before someone else gets killed." I shivered as I wondered who would be next. "I'd better get ready for work. It’s just me there until this afternoon, so I'd better jump in the shower."
"Do you need some help?" Clint raised his brows at me lasciviously. "I am here to be your bodyguard after all. I wouldn't be doing a very good job if I left you alone in the shower."
I got up and held out my hand to him. "Let's see how well you do investigating me." He stood up and took my hand.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“What if I take you apart and turn you into a toaster oven, how would you like that tin can?” - Julie Kagawa, The Iron Daughter
I arrived at work still smiling. I unlocked the doors and switched on the lights. I put my bag and jacket in my office then pushed a cart towards the overnight book drop. There were only a few books in there and something white was stuck underneath of them. I reached in and tugged it out. It was an envelope with my name on it. Someone must have a fine and stuck an envelope with money into the book drop. I opened it up and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Written in block letters, it said, "I TRIED TO PROTECT YOU BUT YOU CHOSE WRONG AND NOW YOU MUST PAY." I dropped it quickly and backed away. I dashed across the library and picked up the phone to dial the sheriff.
"Miller's Cove Sheriff's office," a nasally voice said.
"This is Ophelia Jefferson over at the library. I just received a threatening note. Can you send someone over right away?" I gasped out trying to fight the rising panic. I was locked inside the building and was safe for now, but someone clearly wanted me out of the picture. They had poisoned Carla in broad daylight in a crowd. I wasn't safe anywhere.
"Hold on," the tinny voice said. I heard a muffled conversation in the background. "Miss Jefferson, Sheriff Dawes said he'll be there in less than three minutes. He asked that you don't open the doors to the public and stay put for now."
"Alright, I'll wait by the door. Thank you." I hung up and watched through the windows as I saw Sheriff Dawes walking down the street at a brisk pace from his office. A moment later, I opened the door to let him in. Charlie was the only one waiting outside. "Charlie, we're going to be a few minutes late opening up. Can you hang out here for about ten minutes and let people know to just hold tight?"
"Sure thing. Is everything alright?" Charlie gave me a concerned look.
"Everything's fine. Just need to speak to the Sheriff for a few minutes, and then I'll open up," I reassured him. I closed the door and locked it again.
"Where's this note?" Jaime demanded. "I swear this town is going crazy. Three murders in a week and now there are threats against you. I am at my wit's end. If we don't get a crack in this case soon, I'm going to have to call in the state police to help."
"I'm scared, Jaime." I wrapped my arms tightly around myself and shivered from fear. I walked over to where I had dropped the note on the floor. The sheriff pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and picked it up carefully by the corner.
"I rushed over here without my evidence kit. Do you have a clean bag I can put this in?" I walked over to the supply closet and pulled out a large Ziploc bag that we used to place children's craft project pieces in. I held it open and he carefully placed the note in the envelope and then sealed it shut.
"I doubt there are any fingerprints on it. Whoever is behind all of this has been very careful about leaving evidence behind." Jaime shook his head in frustration. "Listen, Phee. We got results back from the rose left on your door. It was human blood and once we get full results back, I am sure it will match Duane’s. The person doing these murders is seriously disturbed. I want you to be careful. I don't have enough men to protect you full time, but you should be safe inside the library and I will send someone by every hour to check on you, okay?"
"Believe me when I say I plan on staying right here and not being alone with anyone. I have to tell you, Jaime, this has really made me scared. I just can't imagine what I have done to make anyone this angry at me." I shivered again.
"It says you chose wrong. Any idea what they could be talking about?" Jaime asked.
"I don't know. I mean, I'm trying to think if I have made any choices on the library or...." I stopped. "I chose Clint over Grant. That's the only choice I've made. I don't know why someone would want to kill me over that though. Grant was even okay with it, so I know it’s not him. Could it be some woman in Clint's life who’s angry that I'm with him? The only way they could know is if they’ve been watching me. The only people who know are Wade, Juliet, Grant and now, you."
"You might be on to something there. Clint's left a few women in his wake. I didn't know you and Clint were together. Are you sure that's a good idea?" Jaime gave me a fatherly look. "Don't get me wrong, Phee. I like Clint and he's a good officer, but he also has a reputation for loving them and leaving them. I've been friends with your dad for too long to not give you a little friendly warning."
"I appreciate that, but I'm a grown woman. I can look out for myself in the romance department."
"Ah, Phee. Don't be angry with me. I forget you aren't a little girl anymore. Just be careful, okay? I'm going to take this back to the office and process it. If you think of anything else this morning, call me. I'm going to catch whoever is doing this and lock them up." Jaime gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder and headed out of the library. I followed behind him and opened the doors to the public. Charlie had been joined by a few more folks waiting to get in and there was a flurry of whispers as they watched the sheriff leave the building.
"Are you okay, Phee?" Francis Palfrey asked me with concern. "What was the sheriff doing here at the library? Did someone break in and steal something?"
"I'm fine and no, nothing was stolen. Just a bit of a scare, but it turned out to be nothing," I reassured her. "I guess I am just a little bit on edge with all of these murders going on." I hurried away so she wouldn't see my face and realize I was lying. I kept myself busy so I wouldn't dwell on the threatening note. I was shelving books
in the 500 section of nonfiction when a book caught my eye. Poisonous Mushrooms of North America was the title on the spine. Pulling it out, I flipped through it. When I came to the page on the Amanita bisporigera also known as the Destroying Angel Mushroom, I noticed that the page was turned down on the corner. I wondered if the book had been how the murderer had figured out how to kill Carla.
I hurried back to my desk and called Sheriff Dawes. The receptionist connected me through immediately.
"Sheriff, I think I know how the murderer learned how to kill Carla. I have a book here at the library that tells all about poisonous mushrooms. I remember that I had it on display when Duane was giving his talk the other day. I was flipping through it a minute ago and saw that someone had turned down the page on the exact mushroom that killed Carla. I've been careful touching it. Do you want to come get it and dust it for prints?" I carefully placed the book on my desk and waited.
"It'll be hard to use prints from a book to prove someone killed Carla since anyone could have touched it there on the shelves. You are a public library, after all. But go ahead and put it in a bag. I'll send someone over in a bit to get it and see if we can get any usable prints." Jaime instructed before disconnecting the call.
I put the book in a bag and placed it in a drawer in my desk. They might not be able to prove the person who handled this book was the murderer, but I bet it would put them on the right track. Shutting the desk drawer, I tried to put it out of my mind and get back to work.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
“Murderess is a strong word to have attached to you. It has a smell to it, that word - musky and oppressive, like dead flowers in a vase. Sometimes at night I whisper it over to myself: Murderess, Murderess. It rustles, like a taffeta skirt across the floor.” -Margaret Atwood, Alias Grace