Nick shook his head. “Something to do with the filming. But no, they never left, just settled down and worked things out. So they have an alibi as well. But I’m afraid those are the only folks accounted for at the Ashbury. Everyone else was either in their rooms or about town.”
“Thanks. At least we can eliminate a few people. And the dangerous dames at the corner table.”
He smiled, but it was a weak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Audrey, we don’t seem to be able to find much time to spend together. Do you have a moment to talk?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Not here.” He glanced at the milling crew members. “Let’s walk.” Then he grabbed my hand and led me through the French doors out onto the patio. A narrow fieldstone path led toward the gazebo and a decorative pond.
Large koi clustered near the surface as we leaned on the wood railing of the bridge that spanned a narrow section of the pond. Water bubbled from a fountain. The sky shone bright blue and small birds and bees jumped from flower to flower. It was an almost idyllic setting. And I hoped Nick didn’t bring me out here to break up. With the busy shooting schedule, we’d never talked about my dinner at Brad’s house. Not that I had anything to hide. But then why was I avoiding the subject? And call me a pessimist if you must, but the Ashbury didn’t hold many happy moments for me in the romance department.
“Look at that guy.” Nick pointed to a large orange and white speckled fish that was eyeing us hungrily.
“I think that’s Curly,” I said. “Kathleen started out with three fish.”
“Let me guess. The other two are Larry and Moe?”
I nodded. “And when she added more fish, she kept on with the theme. She added Chico, Harpo, Groucho, and Zeppo.”
“There’s a fifth Marx brother,” he said. “Gummo. He was in the vaudeville act, but never appeared in any of their films. And . . . Shoot, Audrey. I didn’t bring you out to talk about the Marx brothers. I think I’m stalling because this is so difficult for me.”
Here it comes. “Look, if it’s about the other night . . . ”
He shook his head. “You know how many hours I’ve put into the bakery.”
“It takes a lot to get a small business going. Trust me, I know.”
“Yes, but I don’t know that it’s fair to you.” He pulled me to face him, and then lifted my chin so that I was looking into his eyes. “What I’m saying is that I do understand if you want to date other people.”
“You’re breaking up with me.”
“I didn’t say that. Call me old-fashioned, but when it comes to relationships, I can’t think of advancing to the next level unless I had . . . Look, I live in a barely habitable studio apartment above the bakery. In the winter it’s toasty, and in the summer, it’s a sauna. The business just started turning a profit, but not what I’d call a living wage, and certainly not enough to consider . . . well, to consider getting married and having a family. Audrey, if you waited for me, you could be waiting a long time.”
I swallowed hard. Turning toward the pond, I leaned my arms against the aged wood railing and stared down into the water.
Curly hit the surface, sending ripples in all directions. A moment later Harpo did the same, and the ripples met, added to one another, creating an elaborate pattern in their interaction.
But the ripples didn’t touch me.
I could feel the bubble forming around me, that protective isolation shutting me off from the rest of the world. The illusion that I was healed—whole again—evaporated, and the feelings of abandonment returned. Even the blood that ran through my veins seemed to respond. I once learned that in hypothermia, the blood leaves the extremities to protect the organs. But even in the summer heat, there didn’t seem to be enough warmth there to prevent crystals forming, freezing my heart itself.
Nick stood silently next to me, waiting for a response. Even the stupid fish in the pond swam together, mated. But I couldn’t interact anymore. I concentrated on breathing, on keeping a calm expression on my face, but I wasn’t sure that this time I could pretend everything was all right.
“Dating me can’t be a lot of fun for you,” he said. “Unless you enjoy long evenings of Scrabble and cupcakes.”
I happened to adore long evenings of Scrabble and cupcakes. “So you are breaking up with me.”
“No! I’m saying that I understand if you wanted to break up with me. Especially since Brad is back in town and seems to be interested in you. I’m not saying that I would like it, but I’d understand it.”
“So you’re not breaking up with me. You’re just giving me your blessing to break up with you.”
“If that’s what you want.”
I stared down at the water, not really seeing it. “Brad and I dated for a long time. Maybe too long. I won’t lie to you. Before he left Ramble, I had entertained thoughts of marriage—of spending my life with him. And I spent quite a few weeks after he left dreaming that he would come back and fall on his knees, admit he was wrong to leave, and beg me back.”
Nick’s water reflection nodded ruefully. I neglected to tell him that Brad had done pretty much that shortly after arriving back in town.
“But,” I said, “a relationship with him now . . . I’d be constantly wondering whether he was going to leave me again. So while I suppose part of me still cares for him, I’m not sure I could trust my heart and life to him.”
“You’re not sure you could, but you’re not sure you couldn’t.”
I bit my lower lip, then shook my head. I also wasn’t sure if I could trust my heart and life to someone who’d just suggested I date other people.
“Maybe you should explore that.”
“Are you trying to push me away?”
“No.” Instead, Nick put his arms around my waist and drew me closer. He gazed into my eyes and removed an errant strand of hair from my cheek before leaning in to kiss me, a long, slow, tender kiss that instantly took most of the tension from my body. I leaned into his embrace and clung to him, part out of affection and part because his kiss left me weak in the knees and I needed the support. Maybe an ice crystal or two melted, just a little bit.
“Does that feel like I’m pushing you away?”
“Nuh-uh,” I murmured into his chest. One of the advantages of dating a baker is that he always smells of cinnamon and vanilla and anise. I breathed deeply of his scent.
“But I want you to be happy, even if it means it’s with someone else.”
I leaned back to speak, but he put his finger over my lips. “That’s all I wanted to say. Now I suspect it’s back to the grindstone for both of us.”
* * *
I walked into the shop with a box of scones and a heart so heavy, I was sure it had sunk to somewhere near my belly button.
Liv, Amber Lee, and Shelby must have sensed my mood, because, after I informed them that we needed to make three more bouquets, they kept up a cheerful banter between themselves without requiring me to say much. But Liv shot me more than a few concerned glances, which I avoided. Until she cornered me in the cooler.
“Are you going to tell me what’s got you so down in the mouth?”
“Well, let me think about that for a minute,” I said. “A nationally known wedding planner has been murdered. A killer is free, roaming the streets. My ex is back in town and being questioned by the police. We have a major job to do, but can’t get the go-ahead on any of the designs. And I think Nick wants to break up with me.”
“Last thing first. Nick wants to break up with you?” Leave it to Liv to narrow in on the one thing that was throwing me the most.
“I think. He said he wants to give me the freedom to be happy, but—”
“Has he given you reason to doubt that?”
“Not him, personally, but all the other men in my life seem to . . .”
Liv set down her flo
wers and drew me into a hug—a little farther apart than usual because of her growing baby bump. “Oh, kiddo. I know you haven’t had the best of luck with the men in your life. And I’m no expert on the species myself. But one thing I’ve learned is that you can’t blame one for the mistakes of all the others.”
“I’m not. I’m blaming him for his own.” Before she could defend Nick further, I brushed past her and back into the shop.
“So,” I said, faking a smile as I stripped the foliage from a stem a little bit too forcefully and ended up splitting it down the middle, “did anyone learn anything today?”
“I did,” Amber Lee crooned. “But I got a whopper and I kinda want to go last.”
“Darnell will be back from a delivery in a few minutes.” Liv peeked at the clock. “And Eric should be here, too.”
The door swung open. “Eric is here,” he said, bringing in several pizza boxes. “And brought dinner.” He kissed Liv on the cheek.
She pulled back, ran her hand along his newly trimmed beard, then leaned back to inspect the hair behind his ears.
“Do I pass?” he said.
“You’ll do.” She reached up to return his kiss.
Eric looked around. “Is Nick here?”
“No,” I said. “He’s working at the bakery tonight.”
Eric opened his mouth as if to add something, but Liv elbowed him in the ribs. Eric and Nick had become buddies. If Nick and I broke up, Eric would miss his camaraderie.
Darnell arrived as we carried the food to the fieldstone table in the consulting nook, and soon everyone had divvied up their favorite slices dripping with gooey mozzarella.
“So, what did everybody learn today?” Eric said.
Shelby licked a blob of sauce from his thumb. “I got nothing at the Brew-Ha-Ha, just chatter. And my dad was out on a job, so I haven’t had a chance to talk with him yet. But I think I might have gotten a hint as to the wedding design in the craft store. They’re having a great sale on ribbon, by the way. But I started chatting up Miss Laurie. Next thing I know, she pulls out her cell phone, and there’s a picture of Gigi in her store. Holding silver ribbon. So I bought some just like it. I thought maybe we could sneak some into the bouquets.”
“Make sure I get the receipt so I can reimburse you,” Liv said.
“Do you know when the picture was taken?” I asked.
“I was getting to that,” Shelby said. “Miss Laurie told me she’d just finished her lunch.”
“And Miss Laurie likes to eat her lunch early,” Amber Lee said, “because people stop in for yarn and such during their own lunch breaks. So that picture was probably taken sometime after eleven, but probably before noon.”
“Which puts Gigi only a couple blocks from the church with plenty of time to get there if she wanted to off Gary,” Eric said.
“To off Gary?” Liv stared at him. “That’s it. I’m getting rid of the TV.”
“But why would she want to kill her co-host?” Shelby said. “Their chemistry made that show.”
I took a bite of my pizza and chewed. I hated withholding information from my coworkers, but Mrs. June’s job was more important. I struggled to swallow and sipped my soda, forcing a glob of congealing cheese down my esophagus. “There could be any number of reasons. We only know their television personas. They could be much different in real life.”
Amber Lee turned to me, her wide eyes flashing.
“Did you want to go next?” I asked.
“Nope. I still want to go last, but you are very perceptive.”
“Well, I didn’t get anything from my secretary,” Eric said. “Said she had her head buried in our monthly reports all day, trying to fix a discrepancy of twelve cents.”
“Slave driver,” Liv teased.
Eric sent a smile in her direction. “But I did learn a thing or two at the barber shop. Not sure if it’s all that relevant.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Lou told me two strangers came in. An older gentleman and his daughter. He thought they might be part of the show.”
“An older man. Did he have a straggly beard?”
“I guess he did when he came in,” Eric said.
“He left clean shaven?” Amber Lee asked.
“He would have if the daughter had her way. Lou said they argued something fierce over it.” Eric blushed. Liv had insisted he show up for their wedding clean-shaven, and he had complied. But that was before Liv realized that his baby face would make him look like a twelve-year-old groom. They’ve since hidden their wedding pictures and Eric went back to the bristly look. “I heard he got a decent trim. Should look fine on camera. Although Lou also told me that she made an appointment for him the day of the wedding. They’re making bets down at the barber shop on how much facial hair he’ll be allowed to keep.”
“So that puts the bride and Daddykins also a few blocks from the church,” I said.
“Audrey,” Liv said, “this is Ramble we’re talking about. Everything is a few blocks from the church. So what did you learn today?”
While they ate, I told them about Bixby making Brad cool his heels and my visit to the Ashbury.
“So that adds a couple more suspects,” Liv said.
My jaw dropped. “Now, wait—”
“Not Brad.” Liv rolled her eyes. “He may be a jerk at times, but I don’t think he could kill anyone. I meant Dennis Pinkleman and Jackie. Any thoughts about either?”
“Well, Bixby took poor Dennis into custody without even asking who started that altercation outside the Ashbury. I kind of feel sorry for the guy.”
“So he drove all the way from Cleveland just to get a glimpse of Gary and Gigi?” Eric asked.
“I guess he’s a rabid fan,” I said.
“Fan as in he likes watching the show?” Amber Lee said. “Or fan as in having a roomful of grainy images pasted on all his walls? That makes a difference.”
“He must be a bit obsessive to travel that far. And then there’s Jackie,” I added. “Jackie and Dennis acted like they’d both been outside the Ashbury all day, but that area was kind of chaotic. They must have left to find food and to use a bathroom somewhere.”
“Not at the Ashbury?” Darnell asked.
I shook my head. “The Ashbury is closed except to cast and crew. Ken Lafferty is guarding it, so to speak.”
“Then he should know who was coming and going,” Liv said.
“Not sure. He was there this morning when I arrived for shooting the flower segment, and when I arrived later this afternoon, but . . .”
“That sounds like an interesting ‘but,’” Amber Lee said.
“He was at the church when I got there.” I tried to play the scene over in my head. “First one at the scene. He was there before Bixby, even.”
“That’s because he was at the deli when that bell started ringing,” Darnell said. “Officer Lafferty, that is. I heard he got a call and charged out of there, leaving his lunch unpaid for and sitting on the table. His waitress was not happy.”
“They know where to find him,” Amber Lee said.
“Then someone must have replaced him guarding the Ashbury,” Liv said. “You know, I bet Mrs. June might know. Wait—didn’t the show have its own security guards?”
“Yeah, the first day,” I said. “The guys with the black clothes and the mirrored glasses. Fat lot of good they did. Come to think of it, I haven’t even seen them since. I’ll keep an eye out for them when I head back to the Ashbury tomorrow.”
I turned back to Darnell. “Learn anything at the soccer fields?”
Darnell stroked the stubble on his chin. “Just rumors. One guy said he saw Gary walking down Main Street. Asked for an autograph for his daughter, but Gary passed him like he didn’t hear.”
“Was Gary alone?”
“The guy didn’t mention
anybody with Gary. And I think he would have told me. Some of the guys in town seem to think his murder had something to do with Gary’s orientation.”
“Hogwash,” Amber Lee said. “Is it my turn now? Because I can’t wait any longer.”
“Spill it,” Liv said.
Amber Lee’s face broke out into a huge grin. “Well, speculation at the Underdog was the same as at the soccer field, only they were all buzzing about how they met one of the crew. Said he ordered the All-American number four with onion rings and a Diet Coke.”
“They didn’t get a name?” I asked.
Amber Lee shook her head.
“Did he have an accent?”
“They didn’t mention one.”
“Probably Marco, the cameraman.” I figured if he had an accent, they would have mentioned it, since they got his lunch order down to the minutest detail. “This puts him in town near the church. Did they have anything else to say about him?”
“Not really. Said he kept to himself—although my burger was excellent.”
She waited, obviously enjoying the rapt attention of her audience before she dropped her bombshell.
“But then I went to the beauty parlor. Or salon, or whatever they’re calling it these days. I had no sooner sat in the chair, before it all came out. It seems that Gary’s orientation was all a big act for the camera. He was straight, and . . . wait for it . . . he was secretly married. To Gigi Welch.”
Oh, Mrs. June. The secret’s out. But they didn’t hear it from me.
Chapter 9
A small nosegay bouquet wasn’t going to make it all better, so I went for a large vase full of gorgeous purple Dendrobium orchids (love, nobility, beauty). Not that orchids would make it all better if Mrs. June lost her job over the revelation of Gary and Gigi’s secret marriage. And not that I had anything to do with the word getting out. Unless someone overheard my conversation with Mrs. June and repeated it.
So first thing in the morning, I was marching the flowers up the sidewalk toward the municipal building that housed police headquarters, as well as most other government doings in Ramble, and almost literally ran into Rita Watkins, the mayor’s wife. She burst out the door, letting it close behind her. When we met midway on the sidewalk, we did one of those little dances where you try to get out of the way, but whichever direction you step, the other person steps the same way. After four or five of these side-to-side steps, she brushed past me without a word of greeting or help for the florist struggling with the large arrangement.
For Whom the Bluebell Tolls Page 10