I walked quickly between the two houses. To say my bare feet were uncomfortable on the crunchy, cold snow would be an understatement. After a minute, though, the ice numbed them, and walking wasn’t too painful, thanks to my elevated temperature from the hot bath plus the adrenaline.
I ran up the steps to the neighbor’s house and rang the doorbell. Nobody came. I rang it a few more times. No answer. A pile of mail and flyers sat by the door. The family was out of town. I looked up and down the quiet, dark street. It was late, and the nearest homes were all dark.
Jeffrey meowed that he was bored with this game and wanted to be set down. He jumped from my arms and raced away, running toward my car.
“Good idea,” I whispered.
I shoved Pam’s sketchbook under the neighbor’s pile of mail and ran after him, toward the car. I didn’t have my purse or my keys, but I didn’t need them. The fancy, expensive car I’d been embarrassed about driving in town was now my salvation, with its luxurious keyless entry. I’d never used the feature, but in theory I could open the door and start the engine by punching in a code.
I crouched down by the driver’s side door, so the keypad was at eye level, and so I couldn’t be seen if Pam noticed I was missing from the bathroom and popped her head out of the front door.
What was the code? I hadn’t used it since I’d bought the car a couple of years earlier. The guy at the dealership suggested the name of a child or a pet. I didn’t have either, but as I recalled the conversation at the car dealership, I remembered making the salesman laugh when I made my selection.
I punched in the code: JEFFREY BLUE.
The door unlocked, and the engine purred as it came to life. My code was the name I’d given to my childhood imaginary friend. Now I just had to grab the cat I’d named after him.
I whisper-yelled, “Jeffrey. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.”
Movement on the porch caught my eye. Jeffrey was at the front door, done with our game and ready to go inside again.
The curtains on the living room window were drawn, but shadows shifted as Pam moved around inside the house. It was only a matter of time before she opened the door. Ignoring all my self-preservation warning bells, I cinched the bathrobe tighter and walked in a crouch toward the porch, where the silly cat was sitting.
The door swung open, and there was Pam.
“Stormy Day!” she sputtered. “What the devil are you doing outside in the middle of the night, in my bathrobe?”
She was backlit, the front of her face only dimly lit by the street lamps, but I could see her expression contorting as she worked through what was happening. Here I was, awake, which meant her sleeping pills hadn’t worked.
“Pam, you’re going to laugh at this. I fell asleep in the tub, so I opened the window to get some fresh air, and the cat jumped out. I heard something outside, and I was worried a dog had cornered him, so I went out to rescue him. Silly me, right?”
She wasn’t laughing. “Stormy, get inside before you catch your death of cold.”
Obeying her, I walked up the steps slowly. Her posture changed, and suddenly she was a monster standing in the doorway of her lair, commanding me to come in so she could kill me.
I stopped and took a step backward.
“Actually,” I said. “Since I’m already outside, I’ll go run an errand. Can you believe I left the stove on at my duplex? I won’t be long.”
Coldly, she said, “At least get some shoes.” She slowly backed up, toward the hallway table and my purse. She kept one hand behind her back the whole time. I caught a glimpse of her hidden hand in the hall mirror, and the glint of something metallic.
My heart pounded louder than my thoughts. I held still, my face neutral. She didn’t know that I’d seen the gun. She didn’t know how much I knew.
“That wine was great,” I said. “I’ve got a nice bottle at the duplex that I’ll grab when I’m there. I’ll come right back and pop it open while I help you pack.”
“You’ve lost your mind,” she said. “Come inside and lie down on the sofa. You need some rest. I’ll take care of you.”
She sounded so convincing, so caring. I wanted to believe her, but I couldn’t.
She said, “Don’t be scared. Come inside and let me take care of you, the way a mother would.”
“Pam, did you do Leo Jenkins’ window display at Masquerade?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Of course I did. Why do you ask?”
“Why didn’t you go in again and change it for him? I was there today, and he said he had to change it himself. Are you avoiding him? Or are you avoiding standing inside a display window, handling a snowman somewhere the whole town can see you? Is there a reason you don’t want anyone to make a connection between you and professional-looking snowmen?”
She slumped against the side of the doorframe as though tired. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been busy,” she said.
“Busy trying to set my father up for killing his neighbor?”
She let out a laugh that sounded like a fender collapsing. “You certainly do have a wild imagination,” she said.
I continued, “You were planning to be long gone by the time the snow melted in the spring and the body showed up. You were going to watch from a safe distance while the police turned my father’s life upside down. That was your revenge for him breaking your heart.”
She made a tsk-tsk sound. “He didn’t deserve me, anyway. Neither do you.”
“What about Murray Michaels?” I asked. “Did he deserve to be drugged with your sleeping pills and then strangled to death? What did he ever do to you, Pam? Did he steal your newspaper one time too many? Was that a good enough reason for you to kill him?”
“You saw him,” she said. “He had that smug, self-satisfied look on his face. He’d found himself a young woman who didn’t know any better, that little wisp of a waitress. I saw how she looked at him when she refilled her coffee at the Olive Grove. She didn’t know what a filthy old fool he was. She was falling under his spell.”
I shook my head. “She was his daughter, Pam. She was his daughter. And now, thanks to you, she won’t ever get to know him.”
“Good riddance,” she said.
Jeffrey rubbed against my shin. I leaned down and scooped him up.
Pam said, “Give me back my cat.”
“No.” I stepped down the porch steps until I was on the cement walkway. My feet were so numb; I had to use my eyes to check that I was on solid ground.
She drew herself up tall and brought her hidden hand into view. She pointed the gun at my head. Pam didn’t have police training, or she would have pointed it at my chest, giving herself a broader target. I didn’t point this out to her.
“Pack a bag quickly,” I said. “I’ve called the police, and they’re on the way now. You’ve got a head start. If you get in your car and drive, you might be able to get away, or you might be able to concoct a defense they’ll believe. But if they show up in a few minutes and I’ve got a bullet in me, that’s going to be a tough one for you to talk your way out of.”
She kept the gun aimed at my head. “You’re bluffing. You don’t have your phone. You couldn’t have called the police.”
“Do you really think I came over here without a plan? Does that sound like me?”
She made a growling sound. “And do you think I won’t shoot you?”
I continued backing away steadily. “I’d rather be shot on the front lawn than shot in my father’s living room.”
The night cracked with the sound of Pam’s first shot. She missed my head, as far as I could tell, but even a lousy marksman can get lucky.
I turned and ran toward my car, zig-zagging to keep my head from staying in a straight line of sight. Another shot rang out as I pivoted again, hard.
Breaking glass tinkled. She’d hit a window of my car.
I dodged and crouched down low, putting the car between me and Pam.
She screamed, “Stormy! Get back
here!”
“I changed my mind!” I yelled back. “I’d rather not be shot at all!”
I huddled behind the back tire. She fired off another bullet, which shattered the window of another car, across the street.
“Young lady, get back in the house right now!” she screamed.
“Why? Am I grounded?”
She answered by firing off another shot.
Jeffrey squirmed in my arms. He didn’t know what a gun was, but he knew better than to come to the house when Pam was screaming for him. So did I.
Chapter 43
I dove for the driver’s side door, which was thankfully already unlocked. I tossed the cat in first and followed, keeping my head down low. The engine had been running since I’d punched in the code, and was warm and ready to go.
I threw the car into gear and punched the gas with my half-frozen foot. Another gunshot cracked through the night.
Drive, I thought. Just drive.
The car accelerated with a purr. I sailed through three intersections before I even considered touching the brakes.
I kept checking the rear-view mirror. My feet were numb, and the rest of my body felt equally strange, as though all the atomic particles that were part of me were ready to go elsewhere, separately.
The streets were nearly empty, but I kept looking over my shoulder. I expected to see Pam, whipping out from behind a building, careening after me in a monster truck, leaning out of the window with a roaring chainsaw. She would be screaming about giving me a really short haircut.
I saw her in every shadow, my imagination making up for all the time I’d spent with her, not knowing she was a killer. I’d actually felt sorry for the woman. I’d eaten the french toast she made with her murderous hands.
Jeffrey was also on edge, and without the restraint of a pet carrier, he was free to act out his anxieties. He’d started off underneath the passenger-side seat, out of sight but howling. After a few blocks, he emerged and scaled the back of my leather seat, all the better to meow loudly in my ear.
Cold air whistled through the car, thanks to the bullet hole in the rear window. I shoulder checked. A vehicle was approaching from behind, its bright headlights preventing me from seeing the driver. I breathed easier when I made out the shape of the vehicle as that of a truck. Pam’s vehicle was a car. Unless she’d learned the fine art of hot-wiring, the person behind me wasn’t her.
Jeffrey howled in my ear. Either he was picking up on my panic, or he thought we were going to the vet again. He was not happy, in any case.
“We’re safe now,” I told him.
He responded by singing me the song of his cat people. For an encore, he jumped onto the dash interior and wedged himself against the windshield, still meowing about the evening’s horrible ordeals.
A traffic light up ahead turned red. I tried to tap the brakes, but my tingling foot stomped the pedal. The car lurched to a graceless stop. Another vehicle pulled up next to us. Jeffrey hissed. I turned my head slowly to the left, following Jeffrey’s fearful gaze. I fully expected to see Pam with the gun, or a chainsaw, or perhaps both.
Much to my relief, I found the bearded face of Logan Sanderson.
I lowered my window and croaked, “Hello.”
Logan lowered his passenger-side window and leaned over to say, “Is it considered normal in Misty Falls to drive around in a bathrobe with a cat on your dashboard?”
“Yes,” I said. “But if you don’t have a cat, you can use a dog or a ferret.” I gave him an I’m-not-crazy smile before checking over my shoulder for Pam.
Logan said, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but you look like a woman who knows how to have fun.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you need chocolate?” he asked. “I wasn’t going anywhere in particular, but I had a massive craving for road trip food. I am currently in possession of five kinds of chocolate, plus potato chips, pretzels, and something the gas station clerk recommended personally.” He held up a bag of gummy worms.
“I’d love some, but I have to go turn in my father’s girlfriend for murder. Pam Bochenek killed Murray Michaels.”
His eyebrows raised higher and higher. “You did it. You found the snowman killer.”
I nodded. “If you’ll excuse me, I should get to the police station to give a statement.”
“Do you think you’ll need a lawyer? I’m asking you seriously.”
“I didn’t kill anyone, but I can pass your card along to Pam.”
He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “I have a better idea. As the town’s newest lawyer, I should get better acquainted with the local law enforcement. You’d be doing me a favor by letting me come along.”
I couldn’t argue with that, but I did have one important question. “Will you bring the gummy worms?”
“Of course.” He pointed to the traffic light above us. “Light’s green. I’ll follow you to the police station.”
Chapter 44
I walked into the police station with nothing but a colorful bathrobe and an irritated cat. The night receptionist didn’t even pause to say hello before paging for an on-duty police officer.
We were met by Officer Peggy Wiggles, who ushered the three of us back to an interview room. She asked what happened, and I had a tough time slowing down enough for her to understand me. I did communicate that they needed to send cars to Warbler Street for Pam Bochenek, who was armed and dangerous.
Officer Wiggles didn’t doubt me for an instant. If anything, the expression on her face conveyed satisfaction that she’d suspected the killer was Pam all along. She had, after all, been the one who’d commented on how professionally made the snowman had appeared.
She left us in the interview room while she went to coordinate with the other officers.
Jeffrey sat on his own chair, having a personal grooming session. I patted his soft gray head, and he gave me a look of annoyance. He’d already cleaned that spot, and now he would have to wash it again.
I turned to Logan. “Thanks for coming with me. You don’t have to stay for the whole thing.”
“Did you say something?” He shook his head as though waking up. “I couldn’t hear you over that bathrobe. It’s really loud. Are those pelicans or flowers?”
I looked down at my ensemble. “The pattern is rather spectacular.”
“At least it brings out your pretty eyes.”
I snorted. “How would you know? You’re colorblind.”
He gave me a funny look. “How did you know I was colorblind?”
I gave him a Mona Lisa smile. “The same way I tracked down the killer. I’m clearly a brilliant detective.” I tried to close the front of my bathrobe and appear more respectable, but there was no use. “And I’m humble, too,” I added. “Be sure and mention that to Tony Baloney when we see him.”
“Tony who?”
“Officer Tony Milano. You met him already, for all of about a minute, at the vet clinic. Why were you there, anyway? Do you have a cat? A dog? A fish?”
“None of the above,” he said. “What’s your connection to this Tony guy?”
“My father’s a cop. Well, he was. He’s retired now. Tony trained with him and was his partner for a while. I’ve known him forever.”
“Ah,” Logan said with a nod. “I thought maybe he was your boyfriend.”
“Yuck. Tony’s old and gross.”
“Hmm.” Logan looked at me with the cool expression of someone skilled at detecting lies.
His cool blue eyes tracked down, moving languidly along my neckline. I adjusted the bathrobe’s overlap to preserve my modesty as best I could.
“What about you?” I asked. “Did you move to Misty Falls by yourself, or will someone be joining you at the duplex?”
“Are you inquiring as my landlady?” he asked cheekily. “Will I have to pay more than a fifty-five-percent share of the electricity bill?”
“To be fair, you should pay more if you have excessively long showers.”
“I�
�ll keep that in mind.” He sorted through the pile of junk food he’d brought in and opened a bag of pretzels, offering them to me first.
“These are good,” I said, reaching for another handful.
“I’m glad to see a smile on your face,” he said. “You’ve had a tough night, and it’s part of a good lawyer’s job to put his client at ease so she can function.”
“So, you’re just doing your job?” A squeak of disappointment made its way into my voice.
In a serious tone, he said, “I might joke around at times, but I take my work very seriously. Stormy, if you ever need me again in a legal capacity, please don’t hesitate to call.” He smiled warmly. “Or knock on my door.”
“For legal matters,” I clarified.
“Or to borrow a cup of sugar,” he said.
“A cup of sugar? That won’t happen. I never bake.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Never say never.”
Wiggles came back into the room, interrupting our exchange. “Everything’s under control,” she said. “Pam Bochenek is in custody, and we’re going to get a psych evaluation.”
“Good,” I said. “Something is not right with her. My father mentioned something about her losing her sense of humor, and he wasn’t wrong. She actually found me amusing at some point, and I know I haven’t changed, so I did a little research online. Apparently there’s a type of corticobasal degeneration that could explain some of her personality changes. It’s rare, and I know it’s not the sort of thing that turns regular people into killers, but it could have clouded her judgment.”
Wiggles nodded. “We’ll leave the mental assessment to the professionals. When did you know it was her?”
“I’m embarrassed I didn’t figure it out sooner,” I said. “Back at my place, sitting on my coffee table, is a vase she made for me at the paint-your-own ceramics place. It has the exact same crooked grin as the snowman she built around Murray Michaels, but it’s a different face from the one that was in the window at Masquerade because that was a store-bought snowman. I saw Leo Jenkins putting it away, and I was thinking what a shame it was the snowman hadn’t given us more of a clue, but then my eyes wandered over to the cards posted on his corkboard. I saw Pam’s business card for her window display business.”
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