by C Farren
“Let’s go talk to my dad,” she said. “We might be able to clear up some of this mess.”
THE SHERIFF PROTESTED, but in the end, he agreed there was wisdom in allowing Wren to talk some sense into her father. Thankfully he didn’t believe Wick was a killer either, but he had to go with the little evidence he had. Wren was pretty sure if things didn’t turn out as planned the sheriff would lock him up.
The police station was small, so they only had one cell. It was clean, with metal bars and a proper single bed. The walls were white and had obviously just been recently painted. Wick was sitting on the edge of the bed, dejected and pathetic.
“It’s just you and me now,” said Wren.
Wick looked up at her. “No comment.”
“Between my own investigation, and through talking with Benedict, Mom and Keegan, I know pretty much everything.” She tried to hide a smirk. “Did you and Mom have your own criminal nicknames?”
“The local press dubbed us Little and Large.” He laughed. It made Wren’s day. “It was quite rare you’d see a married couple who were burglars and robbers where the wife was much taller than the husband.”
She sat down beside her father on the bed. It was quite comfortable.
“You know you have to tell the truth,” she said. “It’s the only way to clear your name.”
“If I go down now, then this is it. I’ll die in prison.”
“You just robbed a few shops. You might get ten years.”
He looked her in the eye. He was frightened.
“Your mother didn’t tell you about my first stint in prison, did she?” Wren shook her head as he continued. “I was sixteen. I punched the sheriff when he caught me shoplifting. I served six months in an adult prison. He thought it might scare me straight if I saw how bad those places were. This will be my third strike. Wrenny, I’m knocking on seventy. If I go to prison now for any crime, I’ll probably die before my release date.”
Wren didn’t know what to say. Her father was going to die in prison whatever he was charged with.
He doesn’t look old, does he?
He was short, and a little bit overweight. There were deep lines around his eyes and it was clear he looked his age. He was an old man. Her father had aged before her and she hadn’t even noticed.
She pulled him into a hug, getting a whiff of the cheap soap he used. It was a familiar fragrance that brought to mind memories of childhood; him pushing her on the swings; buying her ice creams; taking her to look at the cats in the shelter. Her father was precious to her. She couldn’t live without him.
“What do we do?” Wren asked.
“It’s the principle of the thing,” Wick insisted. He wiped a tear away from Wren’s cheek. “I will never admit to murder, because I didn’t do it, but I’ll admit to the robberies.”
“We gave the money and stuff back to Keegan,” Wren said. “He’s going to give it back to all your victims.” She hated the word. “Sorry. Victim sounds too harsh.”
“Harsh, but true. I shouldn’t have done it. I ruined everything. I just got so desperate.”
He turned away. Wren clutched his hand as he started to weep.
He went on. “I knew deep down that Benedict wouldn’t hurt me, but the gambling got in my head. It made me panic. I had to do something to sort it out.”
“It’s okay,” said Wren.
He turned back to her. His face was resolute, brave.
“Tell the sheriff I have a confession to make,” he said.
“I KNEW WHAT TIME GARRETT left every night. He locked up at 10pm exactly. I knew because I’d watched him do it for a week. He’d go over the place, cleaning everything from top to bottom. No wonder he had a five-star cleanliness rating.”
“Garrett always kept a clean ship,” said the sheriff. He smiled contemplatively. “When we were at school he always had the tidiest locker.”
Wren was sitting on a chair next to her father in the interrogation room. Reba was sat on his other side, nodding and writing things down as her father explained what happened that night. She hadn’t been pleased when they’d told her that he was going to make a confession, but Wick had talked her into it. Shangela the cat was in her usual place on the table, keeping a careful watch on proceedings. The brown tabby took everything in, almost as if she understood it.
“That means the murderer did clean their own fingerprints off the tips jar!” Wren declared. The sheriff glared daggers at her. “Sorry. Just thought I’d mention it.”
The sheriff nodded. “We’d already considered that.”
“Please continue,” Keegan asked.
Wick looked down at his hands. His nails were bitten raw.
“It was about a quarter to midnight when I arrived. I didn’t see anyone leave the Metropolis, but the front door was wide open. The lights were still on.” Wick took a sip from a glass of water and cleared his throat. “I went inside but nothing was amiss at first. I figured that maybe he’d just forgotten to lock up. I went to the cash register and opened it. There was about a grand inside, which I put in a bag.” He looked away. He was getting to the gruesome part of his tale. “I walked forward, almost tripping over Garrett’s feet. He was on the floor.” Wick went pale. He took another sip of water. “I didn’t know what to do. I took his pulse, just to make sure, and that’s when I saw the tips jar on the floor. I picked it up. It was really heavy. I figured someone must have hit him with it. I dropped it and I ran.”
The sheriff’s glare could cut through fog. “You should’ve called me.”
“I didn’t want you to think I’d killed him.”
The conversation continued, her father admitting to all the stores and businesses he’d robbed, some in Snowflake Bay, and several in the city. Some of them happened before he’d gotten into debt with Benedict, which meant that hadn’t been the factor that had forced him back into crime. Wren stared daggers at him when she found that out.
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Wick.
Wren was calm. “I’m thinking you went back to crime because you enjoyed it, not because you were in debt.”
“It was a little of both.”
Wren waited while her father signed his confession. It was all so straightforward, but he was still signing his life away.
“Will this confession help his case?” Wren asked.
“Probably not,” said Reba. She patted Wick on the arm. “But I’ll fight to keep him out of jail.”
“Just a few more questions now you’re being forthcoming,” said the sheriff. “Did you notice anything else out of the ordinary? Garrett doesn’t usually stop at work late. He’s always been punctual.”
“There was nothing,” Wick admitted. “No, wait, I did hear something. I’m not sure. There was a noise in the back room. I think that’s where the staff has their bathroom and kitchen?”
“That’s right, though it’s like a little corridor that leads off to a few tiny rooms,” added Wren, trying to feel useful. “There’s also the public bathroom, and a small office where Garrett does his paperwork.”
“What kind of noise?” Keegan asked.
Wick shrugged. “I don’t know. Just...sort of a squeaking, creaking noise. I thought it might be a bird at first, an owl or something, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe it was the murderer.”
Wren felt terrified. Her father had been in the same store as a cold-blooded murderer. If he’d entered the premises just a minute or two earlier then he could’ve been killed too to cover up the crime.
“That’s it,” said Wick. “That’s everything.”
The sheriff nodded. “Thank you for finally being honest. I appreciate it.”
“What does this mean? Can I go home?”
It was getting late. It was already dark outside. Wren was tired and hungry, and she was curious about where Fiona had been all day. The angel had popped out earlier and never returned.
“I’m sorry,” said the sheriff. “Normally I would, but I can’t take the risk that you’
ll flee the county. I really am sorry.”
“Sheriff, my father wouldn’t do that!” Wren protested.
He probably would.
“It’s okay,” said Wick. “I was thinking about making a run for it, but I wouldn’t have gone through with it. I couldn’t leave my family.”
Wren smiled sadly. “Oh, Dad.”
“I FINALLY WORKED UP the courage to see you,” Fiona whispered.
The graveyard was quiet as the sun went down. Fiona was all alone. For hours she’d walked back and forth outside the fence, scared to go in. She knew the moment she saw the grave she’d break.
“I’ll bring you some flowers the next time I pop by,” she said, noticing the gravesite was overgrown with weeds. “When was the last time someone came to see you? This is not on.”
She started plucking out all the weeds, trying to calm her temper. He didn’t deserve this.
WREN SAT DOWN ON THE bench outside the station, feeling mentally exhausted. Today had been a very long day. Tomorrow would be even longer. She had a lot to do if she was going to find out who killed Garrett.
I’ve done good so far, right?
Delving into her father’s past and getting him to admit to the burglaries were probably the easy part. He was a man she knew, or thought she knew. Now she would have to investigate strangers, or at least people she knew only slightly. Would they even talk to her? Would they be hostile, or lie? What would she do if she did find out who the killer was?
“How did everything go?” Fiona asked.
Wren almost jumped out of her skin. She hated it when Fiona did that.
“Where have you been all day?” Wren asked. She knew she was taking out her frustration on the angel but at the moment she didn’t care. “Some angel you are.”
“My boss came by for a spot inspection,” Fiona explained. “But I worked through it.”
“That took you all day?”
“She’s a very hard woman to please.”
That she was lying, or embellishing the truth, was not lost on Wren. Fiona couldn’t lie for toffee. She let it be, though. The angel deserved some privacy. If she wanted to tell her the truth she would, in her own time.
They headed back home, which wasn’t far. Wren explained what had happened during the day as they walked. The night air was crisp, not too cold, not too hot, the perfect Autumnal weather. Wren’s favorite season was Winter, but she did love the Fall. Or was that pumpkin pies she loved?
“Sneaky old man,” Fiona muttered.
“At least he’s not a murderer,” said Wren. “It’s not much comfort. He’s going to jail either way, but at least he’s not a murderer.”
“We’ll find a way out of this.”
She wasn’t sure there was a way out of this. The only thing that could get her father acquitted was either a miracle or a sleazy lawyer.
Cedric’s brother...
“Cedric told me his brother had offered his services,” said Wren as they came upon her garden gate. “I think he could get father off, say his mental faculties were impaired because of his gambling addiction or...”
Fiona had stopped in front of her. Something was wrong.
“What is it?” Wren asked.
The words ‘Don’t Be Nosy’ were spray painted on her front door.
Chapter 15
Sleep failed to come for Wren that night. All she could think about was the message on her front door. Was it a threat, or did it have nothing to do with Garrett’s murder? Who knew she was investigating it apart from the police and her family? Was someone watching her?
She sat up in bed, feeling Gracie’s curled up bundle under the sheets. She was like a hot water bottle. Normally the feel of her cat’s silky, warm fur was enough to drown out any anxieties, but this was different. Nobody had ever threatened her before.
Wren pulled out her laptop and watched some crazy cat videos for an hour or two. Sleep still wouldn’t come. She did some star jumps, almost falling over her Persian rug. Sleep still wouldn’t come. There was only one thing for it – she would have to start right now on the murder.
What do I do first?
She needed to make a list of all the possible murderers and their motives.
“I need a pen,” she muttered, switching the light on. The clock said it was almost five am. “Pen...”
She started rummaging around in some drawers. She found old cinema stubs, a failed attempt at crocheting a hat for Gracie, and her wedding photo, still in its gleaming golden frame.
“I look so happy,” she muttered sadly.
Alex looked so dashing and handsome in his tuxedo. His smile was even wider than her own. Had there ever been a couple as happy as they were on that day? Had there ever been a couple as miserable as they were on the day they called it quits? She still missed him.
“I’m sure we could’ve worked it out,” she whispered.
They’d tried to make things work, but the trust had gone on both sides. What was the point in staying married when neither partner trusted or had confidence in the other?
She went through the next drawer down and grabbed a cheap notebook and a pen with a pink fuzzy haired troll stuck on the end. She grinned and went back to her bed, eager to begin.
The first person on her list had to be Jordan Knowles. As much as it pained her to admit it, he had more than enough of a reason to kill his father. They’d had a serious argument that had led to an assault. What was the argument about?
Katie Knowles. Garrett’s wife was a vile woman who had also argued with her husband the day of his death. Was the argument about Jordan’s beef with him, or was it something entirely different?
Aarna (she didn’t know her second name). The barista worked at the Metropolis, and so knew Garrett, so she had to be added to the list. Plus, she was very, very distressed over her employer’s death – perhaps too distressed? She’d also quit the day of his death, and she seemed to think it was her fault Garrett was dead.
Wren couldn’t think of anyone else. The only other person she knew that Garrett had a personal relationship with was the sheriff, and he wouldn’t murder anyone. He was the law giver, not the law breaker.
Would he?
She hesitantly added Sheriff Fisher to the list. He’d known Garrett all his life. They were best friends. He probably knew secrets even Garrett’s wife didn’t know. Was he the cause of the argument between Garrett and his son?
Veronica Van Clark. She’d opened up a coffee shop down the street that was doing badly. She’d even tried poaching some of Garrett’s customers while Wren was there. Could she have killed Garrett in revenge? Would she do something so brutal over such a petty thing?
Before she knew it, the sun was up. She opened her curtains and looked out across the street. The big house with the huge oak tree out back had a for sale sign stuck in the middle of its front garden. She hadn’t noticed it before. Still, it was time. Mrs. Rison had moved to a retirement community after her husband died and her kids had been begging her to sell it ever since.
Wren missed Mrs. Rison. She would pop over occasionally with a batch of her signature M & M cookies and they’d chat. She still managed to pop over to see her at the retirement community from time to time but it wasn’t the same.
There was a pieous meow and Wren looked down to stroke Gracie. It wasn’t Gracie. It was the black cat her little one had been playing with the other day under the gazebo.
“What the heck are you doing in my bed?” Wren shrieked. The cat ignored her. “Hello? Are you listening to me?”
Gracie was curled up next to the black cat and they were grooming each other. It was utterly adorable. Serenity returned.
“I guess I have two cats now,” Wren mumbled.
Something was familiar about the black cat. She’d never gotten a good look at it before but she could swear it was Mrs. Rison’s cat, Casper. Hadn’t the old woman taken her feline friend with her when she’d moved? Had it run away to return to the only home it knew, or was it just a coinci
dence?
She stroked the newcomer and tried to find its collar under the mounds of silky black fur. Wren had never stroked fur so thick, and the cat itself was enormous. It was probably a Maine Coon.
“Hmm,” she said, locating the collar. It was rainbow striped. “You’re definitely Casper. I better phone Mrs. Rison and tell her.”
Both cats were now fast asleep. Wren shoved the notepad under her pillow, gave both of her furry friends a pat on the head, and climbed back in bed. She fell asleep almost instantly.
“ARE YOU SURE?” WREN asked. “I know how much you love him.”
“I couldn’t get him to stay,” Mrs. Rison admitted. “He missed his old stomping grounds too much.”
“This is probably the next step in becoming a crazy cat lady, but I’ll keep him. He seems to really love Gracie.”
“Wouldn’t a cat wedding be grand? My grandson loves stuff like this. He’s a wedding planner.”
Wren smiled as Mrs. Rison gushed over her grandson, Adam. He was the one who bought Casper the rainbow collar. He was married to her ex-husband’s brother Hannibal and they lived in New York City. The old lady was immensely proud of him. He even had his own TV show on Cable.
“Anyway, I better go,” said Wren. “You probably know about all the trouble we’ve been having in town.”
“A murder!” Mrs. Rison exclaimed. “How ghastly! I used to be good friends with Garrett’s father before he died. Garrett Senior loved Katie like a daughter, and she looked up to him like a father. Both father and son were such good people.”
“You’re right there.” It wouldn’t hurt to ask. “Is there anything you can tell me about the family? My dad is being accused of Garrett’s murder and I need to prove him innocent. Anything you can tell me would help.”
The line went quiet for a moment. Wren watched her two cats taking it in turns to eat from the food bowl. How polite.
“Brenda?” Wren asked. “Are you still there?”