by Louise Lynn
His shoulders deflated a bit at that, and Hazel decided to stop the questions for now. She wasn’t about to hold his need for money against him.
Hazel smiled and patted his arm. “That’s good for now. I’ll see what I can do. Do you have any idea where Amber Ross might be today?”
Travis’s eyes got wide. “Church?”
“It’s well after noon. I think church has been out for a while.”
His cheeks went pink, and he ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh. Amber and her friends hang out at Lakefront Park sometimes. She might be there.”
Hazel knew the spot. It was popular with tourists in the summer, but it was a little too early in the year for that. At least the sun was out, though there was still a sharp chill in the air.
“Thank you. If I have any more questions, I’ll contact you.”
Travis nodded and stood, holding out his hand.
Hazel raised an eyebrow but shook it regardless. “Should I do anything else to help? Question people or–”
Hazel bit her bottom lip, unsure if she should say yes or not. Saying no made her a bit of a hypocrite, considering that’s what Sheriff Cross always did to her, but Travis was only a teenager. And this looking for murderers business got dangerous from time to time. “I think I can handle it right now.”
With a nod, Travis hurried out.
By the time he left, her father had wrapped up his Old West shoot and popped his head into her office. “I don’t know how to use your payment thing-a-ma-bob,” he said and held up the iPad with a little card reader on top.
Hazel smiled and stood to help him. “Thing-a-ma-bob, dad? I thought you kept up-to-date on all this technology stuff.”
He rubbed his beard and shrugged. “I try, but things change so fast it’s hard to keep track.”
Hazel thought about the teenagers with their phones, and realized she understood that all too well.
Checking the park required closing her studio, but Hazel didn’t mind. There weren’t many people coming by, and she felt the familiar urgency to act fill her bones. Plus, Anthony Ray was getting antsy.
She strapped him in his harness and leash and walked out into the lovely spring day. It was a short walk from her studio to Lakefront Park, and sure enough plenty of people were gathered around picnic tables or sitting on benches near the shore of Lake Celeste, admiring the gorgeous blue that the lake was famous for. The wind meant the water was a touch choppy, and waves rolled in at a regular interval.
Hazel scanned the crowd for the girl she’d seen at the coffee shop the day before. There was a certain somberness that hung over this crowd, one she was unaccustomed to.
A group of girls sat near one of the piers. The water wasn’t smooth enough for smaller boats, yet they gathered around it, feet hanging off the edge, and hugging the blonde who’d been crying the day before.
Her eyes were puffy and red now, and Hazel steeled herself to deal with the dreaded teenagers. She wasn’t sure how people who taught high school managed on a daily basis.
“Amber Ross?”
The girl started from her group of friends and their blonde heads turned in Hazel’s direction. Their eyes swept over her outfit, the floral leggings and navy tunic that she paired with boots and a hat to contain her untamed curls. Or maybe they were looking at Anthony Ray, who sniffed toward them and fizzed his tail.
“You’re that photographer lady, right?” Amber said and stood away from her friends. She wore an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of jeans with so many holes in the legs Hazel wondered why she hadn’t thrown them out. Or maybe it was the style nowadays. What was the point of wearing pants if they were more hole than pant?
“I am. And I heard you were dating Brandon Sizemore. I’m putting together a photomontage for the memorial service and wondered if you’d like to offer some words. Or some pictures of you two together,” Hazel said.
She’d rehearsed the lie on the way over, and thought it was the simplest way to get Amber to talk to her. If she straight up said: ‘I’m investigating his murder and one of his friends thinks you may have been involved,’ she doubted the girl would want to talk.
Plus, appealing to her vanity couldn’t hurt.
“Sure. That sounds great,” she said and a look passed between her friends that obviously meant something, though Hazel didn’t know what.
Thankfully, Amber extracted herself from the other girls and walked with Hazel toward the end of the pier. On either side, the blue waters of Lake Celeste slapped the heavy wooden piling.
“How long had you been dating him?” Hazel asked as Amber fiddled on her phone.
“Only forever. What’s your email so I can send you these?”
Hazel rattled it off and watched Amber select pictures to send her. “Yet your friends know he broke up with you, right?”
The girl froze and stared daggers at Hazel. “Who told you that?”
“I heard a rumor that you two got into a big fight at school.” Hazel wasn’t going to tell her what Travis had said.
Amber rolled her eyes, and her hands shook. “We were going out for two years. Then, a month before prom and the week before the Spring Fling dance, the second biggest dance of the year, he breaks up with me. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?” Her eyes filled with tears. If they weren’t authentic, they sure looked it. Though, Hazel wasn’t sure if they were for Brandon or Amber’s own self-pity.
“I can imagine,” Hazel said and tried to look sympathetic. “If you broke up, how come you guys went to the dance together?”
Amber wiped her eyes on the back of her hands. “We already had tickets, and if he didn’t go, you know how suspicious that would look? Sure, we fought. That wasn’t anything new. We were kind of like the Brad and Angelina of Cedar Valley High.”
Hazel wrinkled her nose. “Aren’t they divorced now?”
Amber’s bottom lip trembled, and more tears threatened to fall. “Exactly.”
Hazel fished a Kleenex from her purse and handed it over.
The girl dabbed her eyes daintily, and Hazel remembered what Travis said. She was a cheerleader.
Looking at her, Hazel could tell. She had strong legs, and though she was petite, she wasn’t particularly skinny either. She looked like she could tumble, and that required vast amounts of strength.
Strong enough to break a boy’s neck?
Possibly.
“How long have you been a cheerleader?”
Amber blinked and wiped the mascara and eyeliner from her cheeks. “Since I was a in middle school. But I’ve been in gymnastics forever. Why?”
“You look strong. Look, I’m really grateful for those pictures, but something about Brandon’s death bothers me. Do you know how he died?”
Amber shook her head. “People are saying he was murdered, but no one said how.”
Hazel hoped Sheriff Cross wasn’t trying to keep the how a huge secret, because, if so, she was about to blow it. “His neck was broken. That’s difficult, to say the least.”
Amber stared at the waters of Lake Celeste for a long moment. “How could someone break Brandon’s neck? He was so big. I mean, he could carry me on his shoulders like it was nothing.”
Hazel didn’t doubt that. “Did he do it often?”
Amber looked at her phone and her cheeks went white, even beneath her tan. “He used to. Then we broke up, so, you know.” She tapped a few buttons and Hazel saw the pictures get sent to her email.
Hazel drew in a breath of the crisp spring air. Was it possible that Brandon hadn’t been killed on purpose? What if he died accidentally and someone was trying to cover it up?
Someone like his ex-girlfriend.
“Did he pick you up the night of the dance?”
Amber’s eyes flashed toward her. “What? Did you see the gown I was wearing that night? If he did, he would’ve shown off my thong to everybody. And that’s like Kim Kardashian tacky. And I am not that tacky.”
Hazel smiled thinly. “Of course not.�
�
She wondered what kind of tacky Amber was.
But at least the girl hadn’t caught on that Hazel was asking her about the murder.
Amber glanced toward her friends, and she shoved her hands into her pockets. “I should get back to them. They’re trying to cheer me up because this has been the worst week of my life.”
Hazel thought Brandon Sizemore had a much worse week, considering he was dead. But she decided not to mention that.
She let Amber sashay back to her friends and looked out at the rough waters of Lake Celeste.
Here, she thought she would’ve learned something from a chat with Amber. Have a few of her questions answered, at the least.
However, now she only had more than before.
And she already knew of one other gymnastic murderess, so a second wasn’t too hard to fathom.
Chapter 8
Hazel spent the rest of the afternoon going over the pictures Amber Ross had sent her. They were typical teenage selfies.
Lots and lots of selfies.
A deluge of selfies.
Most of them featured Amber predominantly, with Brandon in the background somewhere. Or, if he was next to her, he was kissing her cheek or doing something else to fawn all over his perfect girlfriend.
But he couldn’t have thought she was perfect if he broke up with her.
“What secrets were you hiding,” she asked his smug smiling face. He looked like any jock she’d known throughout her years, and the thought of trying to find his murderer felt a bit strange.
Yet it wasn’t as if he deserved it.
There was something interesting, however, and that was that Travis was also in several of the pictures. Always in the background, like a shadow, following them both.
It looked like he had been friends with Brandon. Hazel should have asked Amber what she thought of Travis. Maybe next time.
It was evening when Anthony Ray complained loudly of being hungry, and Hazel stood from her desk and stretched. She promised Celia she’d apologize to Jay that evening. So, she might as well get it over with before she headed home.
“I’ll be back in twenty minutes at the most,” she told Anthony Ray and scratched behind his ears.
He narrowed his eyes and gave her an annoyed meow, but she wasn’t about to run home, feed him, then come back to the bar. Plus, she didn’t like spending any more time in the Taproom than was absolutely necessary.
The evening chill had set in, and she was happy for her hat at that point. She shrugged her gray wool coat over her tunic and locked her studio before making her way down the street.
The fading light of the sun shone across the surface of Lake Celeste, coloring it golden over the blue. A perfect sunset and she hadn’t even brought her camera. Too bad.
With a sigh, she headed on.
Walking into the Taproom was worse than approaching a group of judgmental teenage girls. Especially this time of night. Hazel tried to ignore how her boots stuck to the floor. If Travis wanted a job, maybe he could help his uncle keep this place clean.
Seventies rock blared from the jukebox in the corner, and several patrons were grouped at the small out-of-the-way tables or tucked at the bar themselves. The steady clatter of billiard balls filled the room as well.
Hazel ignored it all and marched up to the bar, arms crossed.
Jay stood behind the bar, the light shining above him, beacon-like, and gave her a hard look. He wore a formfitting black T-shirt that hugged his powerful biceps. He certainly looked strong enough to break someone’s neck. Even someone like Brandon Sizemore who was slightly taller than Jay himself. “Are you here to ask me if I killed Brandon Sizemore?”
Hazel tried not to breathe through her nose, lest she get a strong scent of whiskey, throw up, and Pine-Sol all mixed together unpleasantly. “Not really. But you did shove a teenage boy against the wall outside the Rockwell Manor the night he died, Jay. You expect me to keep that kind of information from the sheriff?”
Jay picked up a glass and dried it, his eyes focused on the task at hand and his brows furrowed. “Fine. I confronted Brandon. He’s been giving Travis a problem, and I wasn’t about to put up with that. I’m trying to raise the kid.”
Hazel frowned. “Travis said they were friends.”
Jay’s expression went secretive. “Yeah. I guess they used to be, but lately Travis said things between them hadn’t been so great, and he didn’t need any more drama in his life, okay? He had enough with his mom and the people she associates with in Reno.”
“Did you have an alibi when Brandon died?” Hazel asked. She wasn’t exactly sure what the medical examiner had issued as the time of death, but the body had already been stiff. It had probably been there for hours.
Jay looked at her, eyes sharp. “Yeah. I was here, like always. See Benny there? He was here until I closed Friday night.”
Hazel glanced at Benny, but his head was already resting on the edge of the bar, a half-full glass of something dark in front of him. “So, you came here after the dance and opened the bar?”
Jay’s eyes hardened into diamonds. “I can’t just shut my business whenever I feel like it. I’ve got to make a living, so yeah. I took Travis home, and then I came back and opened the bar. I told all this to the sheriff, and he believed me. Why won’t you?”
Hazel frowned. “I never said I didn’t believe you. I just told the sheriff what I saw. I wasn’t trying to accuse you of anything.”
“Fine. Travis said you’d try to find the killer. Clear my name,” he said the last part under his breath as if he were ashamed of it.
Hazel shrugged. “You’re all he has, so I don’t want to leave him homeless. And I’m sorry the sheriff kept you at the station so long. But he’s trying to solve a murder. The murder of a teenager.”
Jay let out a sigh and nodded. “Yeah. I know.”
“And I’m sorry,” Hazel said slowly and carefully in case the words got caught in her throat.
Jay let out a short huff of laughter. “Okay. Forgiven, Hazel Hart. I’m sorry too. For making a big deal to Cece. I was just mad. But, I can give you a drink on the house.” He gave her that signature Jay Turner smirk.
Hazel sighed. “Shirley Temple, please.”
Not that she was averse to drinking alcohol, she preferred wine or champagne to anything else. But the Taproom didn’t keep any good wine or champagne around.
Jay laughed again. “You got it. One Shirley Temple coming up. How about I give your boyfriend a beer too.”
Hazel blinked. “Boyfriend? I don’t have a–” before she could finish, Jay nodded at the pool table, and Hazel snapped her head around to look.
Sheriff Cross was there, leaning over it with a cue stick in his hands. He wore civilian clothes instead of his typical uniform. She blinked three times before she realized it wasn’t a mirage or trick of her tired brain.
Sheriff Cross in jeans and a long-sleeved navy-blue T-shirt.
She felt her mouth fall open and snapped it shut.
“No need to stare so hard. He’s not about to disappear,” Jay said.
Hazel shook her head and snatched the drink he slid across the bar toward her. He gave her a bottle of beer with it, and she carried it over to Sheriff Cross.
Why was he here?
Well, that was obvious. He was playing pool.
She didn’t know he liked pool. Or the Taproom.
She wasn’t sure if that was disappointing or not.
“Sheriff,” she said and handed him the beer.
He took it with a smile that wasn’t his usual smirk. Thank goodness. “Ms. Hart. I wondered when you’d notice me.”
Right. She marched in with only one thought on her mind and hadn’t paid attention to anything else in the room. That was being a bad detective.
“I-I didn’t know you liked the bar,” she said and sipped her Shirley Temple. It was a touch too sweet, but she didn’t mind. At least he put enough grenadine syrup for her to taste it.
The c
row’s feet at the corners of his eyes pulled. “I don’t come often. And it’s not for the atmosphere either. Pool helps me think.”
Hazel had never been fond of the sport, probably because she was absolutely terrible at it. But Celia was good. She said it had more to do with geometry and puzzles than actual strength.
As Hazel watched Sheriff Cross line up the cue ball, she realized her best friend was right. He pocketed three colored balls, though she couldn’t see exactly how he managed to figure out how to do it.
“Tough case?” she asked, and he turned and leaned against the table.
He took a swig of his beer before nodding. “Yeah. To put it lightly. And the worst part is I haven’t had a chance to dig into it yet. I had to give a press conference yesterday, and I spent hours talking to the parents. The deputies have been questioning everyone they can but—” He shook his head and his voice trailed off.
Hazel reached over and patted him on the arm. Her fingers tingled where they touched his taut muscle, and she forced herself not to tug them away. “I figured. At least you eliminated one suspect.” She nodded toward Jay.
Sheriff Cross let out a laugh. “Yeah. Eliminated him, but I didn’t come up with any new ones. How about you?” He took another swig from the beer.
Hazel felt her cheeks go pink and took a too sweet gulp of her Shirley Temple to compensate. “Me? Suspects?”
He gave her a level look. “I know you. And I know you’re looking into this. For once, I’m not going to stop you. Unless it gets way too dangerous. But tell me if you have anything.”
Hazel glanced around, but there weren’t any ears within eavesdropping distance. Still, she dropped her voice. “I talked to Jay’s nephew, Travis. He said the girlfriend or ex-girlfriend, had a pretty good motive. I talked to her today and she’s strong. Cheerleader strong. She could’ve broken Brandon’s neck with her legs. Did you find any other evidence at the scene?”
Sheriff Cross blinked. “Broke his neck with her legs? Is she a Bond villain?” That smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.