by Beth Byers
“Split up,” Zee said. “If you go on the other side of the house, close the curtains before you turn on the lights. Henrietta doesn’t sleep well, and she paces.”
I imagined what I’d find was something that would have pictures of people’s indiscretions. What we needed was Jane’s stuff, but I would be damned if we didn’t take it all, find the people who were being blackmailed, and let them know it was over.
I took the bedroom. We were all wearing the kind of plastic gloves I used with my baking at the diner. They should keep our fingerprints as safe as they kept the cakes I made. I’d started with under her bed—nothing. And gone through her dresser. She had a lot of lacy underwear for an old lady. Donna’s vanity was amazing all wide and covered with beautiful little crystal bottles. She had an epic amount of makeup and perfume, and after I lifted one of the lovely crystal bottles, I realized that she’d bought these things with the money she’d stolen from her victims. I set the bottle down carefully, losing all admiration for it—lovely though it was.
I moved onto the closet where I paused after I opened it. It was stuffed full. Given as how I’d only ever seen Donna in sensible flats, it was extraordinary the number of heels she owned that a lady of the night might also purchase. I quickly dug through the drawers of the dresser in the closet but found nothing other than clothes. The closet door slammed as I was pulling a hat box down from the shelf, and I screamed. I couldn’t help it. It was just so unexpected. I turned and tried to open the door to yell at whoever had scared me, but the door wouldn’t budge.
What in the…I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Mattie, ignoring her greeting to say, “Someone locked me in the closet.”
“Someone knocked Jane down,” Mattie said.
“Oh goodness,” I said, slamming my shoulder against the door, but I couldn’t get out. The smell of smoke was terrible without the alleviating effects of the window I’d cracked.
“I can’t get out,” I told Mattie.
“Zee’s coming,” Mattie said, sounding furious. I could hear Jane cursing in the background as Mattie explained, “Whoever it was got out the backdoor and…”
Oh no.
Mattie cursed as she added, “She was carrying something.”
My curse echoed Mattie’s. What if whoever it was had Jane’s evidence? We were going to have to figure out who else was being blackmailed now, and then…narrow it down to who could have knocked Jane down and was female if Mattie’s guess on the sex of the person was right.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief when Zee let me out of the closet. I had been trying not to focus on how I felt trapped, but my heart only slowed down when I made it out.
“It’s worse than you know,” Zee said. “That stupid cow who I will hunt down and destroy called the police.”
“Oh,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. I heard a door slam and then I heard an all too familiar voice. Simon. I felt like a naughty and recalcitrant child when I followed Zee downstairs. He was yelling at Jane and Mattie, but when he turned to me, he fell silent.
“It’s my fault,” Jane and Zee said together.
I gave them both a scathing look and said, “I am responsible for my own choices.”
“What the…” Simon choked off his shout and ground out, “What are you doing here? What are you looking for? Do you really think you…four…are capable of finding evidence that police officers can’t? Why are you here?”
All of us looked at each other and then back at him without a word.
He shouted, “This is a crime scene.”
Jane flinched, but Mattie fluffed her hair from the knit cap, winked at the uniformed officer, and said, “You know we didn’t kill Donna.”
“That doesn’t mean, Mattie Lynn Parker, that you didn’t destroy evidence and make it impossible for me to find the killer. I should arrest all of you.”
“But you won’t,” Mattie said, smiling winningly. “Since someone locked Rose in the closet and shoved Jane over and fled carrying something. I mean…you could keep yelling at us, or you could go after them through the trail in the woods. You remember the old avalanche lily trail? Did…”
She glanced at him and then winced dramatically as she said, “You guys did already walk the trail, didn’t you? Seems to me that would be an easy enough way to get up to Donna’s house without being seen.”
His mouth snapped shut and then he said, “Go home. Do not let me catch you trying to muddle in this investigation again.”
Mattie winked at the uniformed officer again and took Jane by the hand before she started crying. I went to follow but Simon took my arm and held me back. The others glanced back, except for Zee, who called back, “Wrap it up. Like I said. Before he figures it out.”
“I…” I stopped. I didn’t have anything to say. I didn’t know what to do. I took a deep breath, searching for something, but he just shook his head. “Leave Marks.”
Simon waited until the uniformed officer headed out of the front room of Donna’s house.
I hadn’t thought about how we were destroying evidence. How would they tell the difference between what we’d done and what the other person had done? And given what I knew of Donna…it could have just been another one of her victims who’d locked me in the closet and not her killer.
“I don't know what to say,” I said, rubbing my arms. I couldn’t explain. If I gave Simon a hint of what was happening, his mind would worry at it until he either figured out Jane’s secret or demanded the truth. I wasn’t sure that Jane could meet that demand and deny it. Not in her current state of mind.
“You said you didn’t want to investigate this.” He sounded tired. I didn’t want to be the cause of the way he sounded, but I knew I was.
“I didn’t,” I confessed.
“But you’re here. You can’t let them push you around like this.”
He clearly wasn’t thinking all that straight. Jane was a straight arrow despite her mistakes in the past and Mattie was lazy. Of the four of us, Zee was the only one who was straight pushy, and I’d turned her down flat. He wasn’t putting the pieces together about how this had come about, and I supposed I should be grateful for it.
“Did you make up that stuff about Henrietta?”
“No, of course not,” I said. “She did say those things.”
“You don’t think Henrietta killed Donna, though.”
I didn’t think Henrietta was spry enough to knock Jane down or lock me in the closet. But, given the hate in Henrietta’s voice when speaking of Donna, I did think that she’d have watched Donna’s house burn with a cup of tea in her hand and the phone on the hook.
“I think Henrietta hated Donna with a passion. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that Henrietta is found spitting on the grave or sewing the earth with salt.”
Simon took my shoulders and examined my face. He finally asked, “Really?”
“Really.” But I didn’t think Henrietta killed Donna. A statement that would not pass my lips until after Jane had back her evidence.
“Please stay out of this,” Simon asked gently.
I couldn’t give him the assurance he wanted. I leaned just a little closer, hoping he’d hug me. When he did, I closed my eyes in relief. I was pretty sure I was falling in love if I wasn’t already there, and I…didn’t know how to balance Jane’s need with Simon’s perfect right to keep us out of his job.
“I’m sorry,” I told him. I was, but it wouldn’t change what we did next. “Did you find out about the dogs?”
He pulled back and frowned at me and then said, “No one wants them.”
“Except me.” I wiggled out of his hands, pushed up on my tiptoes, kissed him on the cheek and said, “You’re a good man, Simon. I feel better knowing you're in the world.”
Chapter 6
I didn’t sleep. It was the guilt. I had been waiting for Simon—taking the advice Mattie gave me for our date and not pushed or jumped ahead of him. I’d known for a while that I wanted to be something—m
ore. And as soon as he started to adjust in his stolid ways, I had ignored what I knew was best for the two of us to help Jane. I’d broken into a crime scene and searched it for evidence that I had no intention of sharing with him.
As that replayed through my head over and over again, I sort of fell asleep, woke up, fell back asleep. Whenever I dreamed, I dreamed stressful things. My cottage was on fire or the diner. Dead Donna was chasing me down the street. I couldn’t find my purse. Zombies were on the beach and rushing at my tiny little cottage.
I woke before my alarm went off and got up slowly. It hurt to move, but I was better today. The breathing treatments had been helping, and I hadn’t been in that smoke all that long. It shouldn’t take too long to get back to myself.
The problem with Jane was that she needed to tell her husband and her son regardless of what else happened. They deserved to know. But that was my opinion, not hers, and I couldn’t make that choice for her. As much as I wanted to just smack her around for paying blackmail for years, it was her story to tell.
She needed, however, I thought, to be the one to tell her story. It would mess up her son if he found out from some random message or rumors or however it all came out. I figured it would come out. If Zee had realized Jane was lying about the pregnancy, some other people might have known too. Or maybe they’d seen Jane with Jason. Maybe they’d always wondered who J.J.’s dad was. Just because they hadn’t said anything didn’t mean they weren’t quietly wondering.
There was one thing I thought I could do. I headed into the diner. I wasn’t late and I was surprised to see that the new dishwasher had arrived.
“What’s your name?” I asked, thinking I was the worst boss ever.
“Danny,” he said.
“Sorry I forgot,” I told him. “Long day.”
“Rosie, my Rose,” Az said from the kitchen. “Passes are given for ladies who rescue dogs from burning houses. You know this. I made you a double shot espresso and french toast.”
“How’d you know I’d be in on time?”
“I know you, my Rose,” Az said in his deep, dark voice. He was like chocolate covered espresso beans in human form all rumbly and delicious. If I weren’t half in love with Simon, I’d be half in love with Az.
Az, however, had his eye on a pretty little barista from across the way. I smiled at him and bumped his fist and took the all the sauce options for my french toast. Butter, maple syrup, and fresh strawberries with whipped cream.
“You want hash browns?” Az asked. I nodded. Somehow breaking into a house made me extra hungry. Or maybe it was the sleeplessness. Or maybe it was that I’d had tea and vicodin for dinner. Or perhaps it was the guilt.
“Eggs over medium?” I begged.
“Well now,” Az said. He threw some sausage down on the grill for me too, and I hopped up onto the counter to eat on the other side of the window while he cooked. “Someone is hungry today. What you been up to, my Rose?”
“Can you tell by looking at me? Naughty things,” I joked even though I really did feel guilty about what we’d done. If we ruined Simon’s case, I wasn’t sure I could forgive myself let alone expect him to forgive me.
“Zee was humming, and she wasn’t talking crap about you not playing her little game,” Az said, glancing at Danny and then saying, “Those tomatoes aren’t going to slice themselves.”
“What you think?” I asked, nodding towards the hall where the kid was making his way from the dining area to the kitchen.
Az’s face said he didn’t have a lot of hope. I didn’t either. We needed someone who was happy enough living the low-income lives we lived. Granted…I’d inherited money from my grandparents, but it turned out that no one wanted to be a dishwasher or a waitress for long around here. I didn’t really blame them, Oregon was expensive, but finding someone who wanted to work around here was difficult.
“What about the waiter? What’s his name?”
“Hector,” Az replied with a wide grin that said my forgetfulness was super funny.
“He starts later,” Az said. “To help cover the last hour. Zee rearranged the schedules.”
“Of course, she did,” I said. I took another bite of my french toast and told Az, “You’re a genius.”
I finished my breakfast while Az prodded Danny through the slicing of the tomatoes. When I scraped my plate, Simon came through the door. I turned to Az and then said low, “buckwheat pancakes, all the fixings.”
Az laughed and shook his head and I crossed to Simon with decaf coffee.
“Hey,” he said. I sat across from him, crossing my arms over my chest, and examining him. His gaze lingered on me with a question in his eyes.
“What I did was wrong,” I told him. “But I can’t feel like I’m always one step from infuriating you into taking off.”
His gaze fixed on me and he said, “You been talking to Mattie?”
“You know I have,” I said.
I could feel his gaze on me as he considered me.
“It’s not a strange thing to ask, you know…you keeping out of crime scenes.”
“I won’t go into one again,” I said. “I hadn’t thought it through.”
“So what are you asking me?”
I took a deep breath and then said, “I need to be able to help my friends if they ask me. Even if it means doing stuff you don’t like.”
“You’re investigating the murder? You expect me to just let that go?”
“I don’t care who killed Donna,” I said. “I’m sorry that she died. From what I can tell, she was horrible. I’m not upset because you have every right to feel like I should stay out of your cases. I’m upset because I spent the evening thinking that whatever this is…is over. And that it was my fault for what I did, and I don’t want to feel disposable.”
Simon frowned and leaned back. “Rose,” he started.
“I just want you to think about that,” I said. “I don’t want to push you into something that you’re not ready or that I’m maybe not ready for. I guess…I don't know what I want. I just don’t want to feel disposable. That’s all.”
“Rose?” His voice was lower than I expected. And I couldn’t read the feeling behind it. The question itself made me think that he might want something.
I took a deep breath and admitted, “I don’t know anything other than I didn’t sleep well, I’m sick that this is happening again, and I’m all twisted up inside.”
“Then don’t let Zee and the others drag you into this again. I don’t know what they want, but Rose…you don’t have to be part of it.”
I smiled at him, refilled his coffee cup with decaf, and then delivered the buckwheat pancakes, sliced tomatoes and grilled asparagus and mushrooms. He looked at his food, back at me, and grinned—just for a moment—before he said, “Really? You were the one who…”
“Messed up?”
I grinned and shrugged and left him with the food he didn’t want. Zee glanced at his table at the pot in my hand and said, “Well…that’s one way to handle things. You need to put in an order, and I have some ideas for you.”
“For me?”
“For us,” Zee admitted. “I like Jane and Mattie, but they’re slowing us down.”
I took a few orders, made sure Az was okay and followed Zee to my office. She stayed only long enough to explain, “I put a list of names there. I know you didn’t get rid of the files Jenny had. Look them up. See if their stuff is worth killing over.”
I closed my eyes at that order. It was a good idea. It was a real good idea and might just narrow down our suspects from the entirety of Silver Falls. If…Zee’s list included the murderer or the person who might have taken Jane’s evidence, we might just be able to end this thing. Otherwise, we’d be spinning our wheels.
I pulled out my phone and called Jane. She didn't answer, but she was working at the clinic, so I just left her a message.
“Jane, I care about you.” I paused, struggled with my next thoughts, and admitted, “I think you need to
talk to your son and husband. But…Zee has some ideas. We’re following them up. Stay calm.”
The list wasn’t all that long which made me feel better about the town but also concerned. What if it wasn’t one of these people?
They were Betty—the whiney cake lady, Henrietta Golden, Shawn Robinette, and Joseph Jeans. I wondered about the people I’d seen Donna interact with. There had been that young girl, Roxy, who’d been more than capable of locking me in a closet and knocking Jane over.
I dug through the files and honestly…in the right hands…they might all be worth killing over. That was the thing, wasn’t it? I would like to believe that I’d have told my spouse if I were having a baby with another man. I’d like to believe that rather than being blackmailed, I’d have forced the blackmailer’s hand. But the reality of it was…what did I know? I had never had a relationship that had crossed the line into truly serious let alone been a mom.
What about with Betty? She’d committed a crime that you could be arrested for. And Henrietta—her daughter had a baby and given it away to a family in town. Would you commit murder for your grandchild and daughter’s happiness? What about Shawn Robinette? The woman was as frilly and entitled as they came. I’d only met Shawn once, but given her sprayed out hair-dough and incessant wearing of 5-inch heels, I doubted she was the one who’d climbed through the woods to set that fire. Let alone broken into the crime scene to linebacker her way through the group of me and my friends. But—if Donna had known what Shawn had done—paddled the bottom of one of her students—maybe? The kid hadn’t told, but Donna had pictures. Pictures that would probably lead to Shawn losing her job if not her teaching license.
Jenny knew that Paige, the boutique owner next door, had cheated on her husband. What if it had been Jenny? Zee could just not know.
I sighed as I took my notes and then I hated myself for still having the files. I had to do something about this. This darkness in my life needed to go. I needed to not have a closet full of secrets.
I slammed my hand down on the table and rose. I didn’t want to be part of this. I didn’t want to watch my customer’s come inside and see if they looked happy after Donna’s death. I didn’t want to analyze Henrietta coming in happy for some reason and assuming it was death and not something wonderful.