Blown Away

by Clover Tate

  I clenched my hand to stop its tremble. Play along, Emmy. Play along. “What should we do about him?” I asked.

  “I need to think it over. There’s a lot to consider here.”

  “Not really,” I said without thinking.

  Annabelle looked alert. “What do you mean?”

  The kettle automatically clicked off. The tea water was ready. “What kind of tea would you like?” I ignored her and turned to the tea cabinet, where my fingers touched a few canisters before resting on the Lapsang souchong canister. Yes. It wouldn’t hurt her badly, but it would slow her down. “How about this one?”

  “Okay.” Annabelle stared at me. “You didn’t answer me.”

  “I mean, Avery’s in jail. She needs to come home. Why not just go to the sheriff?” Yes, the sheriff. Right now I’d even take Deputy Goff.

  “A few more nights won’t hurt her.”

  Anger surged through my body. I spooned an extralarge helping of my mother’s Lassitude Tea into the tea ball and rested it in a large mug. I fixed myself some chamomile and poured hot water into each mug. Rock Point was dead quiet tonight. Frank was upstairs, but I doubted he’d hear me through the old ceiling. Unless I yelled. Loud.

  Annabelle was silent.

  “Here’s your tea.” I pushed the mug across the table to Annabelle.

  “You drink it.”

  I stared at her. Had I given myself away? “Oh, I already have my—”

  “I said, you drink it. That’s not Lapsang souchong. I run a tearoom, remember?”

  Damn it. Lapsang souchong was so distinctive, too, with its smoky scent. I managed a chuckle. “I reuse these all the time. I must have put something different in it.”

  “Drink it.”

  “Why? It’s just—”

  She jolted to her feet and grabbed my sewing shears from the worktable. In a defensive stance, she pointed them at me. My lungs seized with fear. “Drink it.”

  I lifted the tea to my lips and drank, choking at its heat. “See. It’s just tea.” When she didn’t respond, I bit my lip, then said, “Why did you do it?”

  Expressionless, she looked at me a moment, then broke into nervous laughter. “Finally figured it out, did you?” The shears glinted under the kitchen light. “You should have left it alone.”

  My gaze swept the workshop. Fear gripped my insides, and my lungs tightened. The backup scissors were in a drawer by the sewing machine, but that was on the other side of Annabelle, as were the fabric weights and razors I used for cutting patterns.

  “Look at me,” Annabelle said. “I warned you to leave things the way they were, but you didn’t listen.”

  “You were the one who broke into our house, weren’t you?”

  “I tried to warn you,” she repeated. “It would have been best for both of us if you would have left things alone.”

  “I don’t understand. I thought you cared about Miles.” I remembered her dry-eyed sobbing at Jack’s store the morning I met her.

  “Of course I did. But it wasn’t meant to be.” Her tone was devoid of expression.

  “So you murdered him?”

  She let out a long breath as if I were too dense to understand. “I didn’t plan anything. It just worked out that way.”

  “What do you mean?” In the window behind Annabelle, something moved. A face. I forced my gaze back to Annabelle. My brain hummed double time, but a velvety wave of drowsiness lapped at my limbs. That stupid tea.

  “I knew Miles had planned a restaurant as part of Frank’s new resort. I’ll have a part of the resort, too—a teahouse with a beautiful view of the ocean.” Her face took on a dreamy look. “I’ll have a special sunset tea service.”

  The thought of Avery’s sunset view profiting Annabelle gorged my throat with bile. I glanced again at the window. No face. I must have imagined it.

  “What happened?” I asked, willing my eyes to stay open.

  Annabelle snapped to. “I was coming out of the Tidal Basin that night, and I saw Miles headed toward the old dock. He left like he had a date, even singing a stupid little song. It was late, and he shouldn’t—”

  Shouldn’t have been meeting anyone but you, I finished silently. “You followed him to Avery’s boat.”

  She nodded. The hand holding the scissors dipped. She saw me watching her hand and lifted them again. “He knew where the key to Avery’s boat was kept, went into the galley. He was making her a dinner.” She spit out the words. “I couldn’t believe it.”

  While Dave and I sat by the bonfire that night, all this was happening. It wasn’t enough to kill him, though. Was it? “Did he see you?”

  “Yes.” I thought she was finished talking, but as I forced my sleepy mouth open to reply, to keep the conversation going, she continued. “Maybe I lost my temper, but it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about our relationship.” She looked at me to make sure I understood. I nodded slightly. “He was ruining everything. He was going to tell Avery about Frank and my plans—I knew it.”

  The face appeared again. Jack. He’d come back. A queer combination of exhaustion and adrenaline had taken possession of my body. Anything could happen now. Anything at all.

  “Oh no,” I said. If Miles had told Avery, it might have been Avery she would have killed.

  “I had to do it,” she said. “And I’m going to have to kill you, too. I’m sorry, but I have no choice. That’s just the way it is. Sometimes life gives you hard choices.”

  “No,” I mumbled, my brain shorting out with energy, but my limbs heavy. Was Jack just going to stand there? Now he’d disappeared again. He wouldn’t be able to see Annabelle’s knife from where he stood. Maybe he thought he’d better leave since I had a guest.

  Focus. Focus, I told myself. Focus. My latest prototype comet kite hung above Annabelle, a filmy bowl of nylon. Its line was attached.

  “Maybe there’s a way we can salvage this,” I managed to say. “Remember? We can work together to bolster Rock Point.”

  She shook her head, a genuine look of sadness in her eyes. “No, Emmy. I’m sorry.”

  Annabelle turned just enough that the scissors flashed to the side, then raised her hand, the blades pointed at my throat. As if I were watching a movie, I heard a terrified scream rise from my guts.

  All at once, the back door’s window shattered. At the same time, I flung my mug at Annabelle and pulled the line suspending the comet kite from the ceiling. It worked. The kite’s fluttering body—the same flaw that kept it from catching the wind—enveloped her upper body.

  As she batted at the kite’s nylon tail, I grabbed for her scissors, which had clunked to the floor. I knelt and her knee struck my side, but I managed to kick the scissors under the stove, fortuitously tripping Annabelle in the process.

  The back door flew open, and I heard Jack running toward us. At last. On the floor, Annabelle had swatted away the kite, now in shreds, and reached for my ankles.

  “You can’t do this to Annabelle Black! You can’t—” she yelled.

  She shrieked when I grabbed one of her flailing wrists. Jack knelt and grabbed the other, and by silent agreement we drew them behind her. I tied her wrists with a lark’s-head bridle knot—thank you, kite making—while Jack dialed 9-1-1.

  Within moments, Frank pushed through the back door, the sheriff behind him.

  And, Lord, was I tired.

  * * *

  After taking Jack’s and my short statements, the sheriff took Annabelle away in handcuffs, saying he’d come out to the house tomorrow with a detective.

  “We can go?” Jack said.

  “I’ll get my bike,” I said, although I didn’t know how I’d manage to pedal. The Lassitude Tea now had completely replaced my waning adrenaline. My limbs felt like tree trunks, and my mouth was full of bark.

  “You don’t look like you’re in any condition
to ride. I’ll drive you.” Jack led me to his car down the block. It wasn’t far, but I could barely walk. I leaned against his warm, strong body. Too bad the car wasn’t a little farther away.

  Once in the passenger seat, I slumped against the window. It was four in the morning; I was starving, drugged, and had nearly been murdered. This girl needed a nap.

  I had a question, though, that I had to ask. “Why did you come back?”

  “Huh?”

  “Why did you come back to Strings Attached?” As soon as I asked, I realized that it could have waited. I was too tired to make sense of anything he might say.

  Jack focused on backing out of his parking spot, and the delay added to my brain’s further thickening.

  “I wanted to ask you—” Jack was saying something, but I couldn’t make out the words.

  “Hmm?”

  “Something something Saturday?” At least, that’s what I thought he said.

  “Saturday?” I mumbled.

  “Yes, do you—?”

  That’s the last thing I heard before I fell asleep.

  chapter thirty

  A week later, I was down on the beach with the latest prototype of the comet kite. I felt good about this one. The sheriff had taken away as evidence the pieces of the last comet kite I’d made. This one was bright orange, and I hoped its tail would soar to the side against the steely sky.

  Bear trotted behind me, staying close since he knew Avery had packed a sandwich in my bag. It was so nice to have her home again. She’d lost weight while away, but Mom—with my blessing this time—had come early on to stay a few days, and she’d filled the refrigerator with casseroles. We’d even finally managed to drink the bottle of champagne I’d bought for Strings Attached’s opening day.

  I’d introduced Stella to my mother, and now Mom was digging up excuses for rides in the Corvette. More importantly, Stella and Avery had a long lunch together and planned another date for the coming week. They had both loved Miles. They had a lot to share.

  With the knife, Frank’s story, and Ace’s confirmation that she was on the dock when Miles was killed, Annabelle had broken down and confessed to killing Miles, burning down his cabin, and trying to kill me. She’d already been indicted, and the judge had refused to set bail.

  After a restorative night’s sleep and several hours of questioning by the sheriff, I’d returned to Frank to apologize again. We’d settled our landlord-tenant relationship, but I had a feeling he’d be investing outside of Rock Point in the near future. Plus, I wasn’t sure I’d ever forgive him for playing with Avery’s feelings like he did. His involvement would come out in Annabelle’s trial. Rock Point might lose a major investor, but I didn’t think we’d be the worse for it. All in all, I knew he was a good man. I guess that greed can just get the best of us.

  The kite was as wide as my arms’ span, so I carefully set it flat, then lifted it above my head to let it catch the wind. It lifted, and straight, too.

  “Emmy. I haven’t seen you for a while.” Jack ambled up, Bear leaping around him. “Hey, guy. Where’s your ball?” Bear dropped his tennis ball at Jack’s feet, and he threw it down the beach.

  “I’ve been around. Just enjoying things being back to normal.” Dang, Jack looked fine, the wind tousling his wavy hair and rippling his fleece pullover. I absently let out a bit more line on the kite. “Have you talked to Dave lately?” I said this more to have something to say than to learn the answer. After all, Dave was at the house practically every day now.

  “Saw him last night. He’s really happy with the new tour guide you hooked him up with. Says he’s going to be able to add some new hikes and even another kayaking trip.”

  So Dave had hired Ron after all. I smiled. I hoped he’d bring Hannah by the shop soon. “That’s great,” I said, and let out more line.

  “I wondered, would you like to take a few kites up to the lighthouse someday? The wind up there is great, and the view can’t be beat.” Jack’s gray eyes locked with mine.

  Was this some kind of kite-shop-owner business meeting—or a date?

  Jack quickly added, “Or we could go see a movie or get dinner, if you’d rather.”

  I’m afraid I was smiling like an idiot. “I’d love to.”

  Bear ran back and deposited the tennis ball at Jack’s feet again. I felt all warm inside, and it wasn’t the quinoa casserole. Jack knelt to pick up the ball and pulled back his arm to throw. Then he dropped his arm.

  “Would you look at that?” he said. I followed his line of sight high above the surf.

  The comet kite hung in the sky like the evening star, clear and bright enough to make a wish upon.

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