“Murdered?”
The question came from a middle-aged woman behind them who’d been sheltering in the overhang of the entrance. She took a tentative step forward now, one hand shielding her against the intense sunlight, the other clutching tightly to an expensive-looking red handbag.
“Could you repeat that?”
There was a sob hidden in behind the woman’s second query that indicated she knew Roger on a personal level. While Harmony answered, Willow swept her gaze from the tips of the woman’s high-heeled red shoes to the highlights in her curly chestnut hair, gleaming copper in the sun.
“And who are you?” Willow asked, letting her shock manifest as rudeness. As soon as the phrase was out of her mouth, she knew it would be one of those things that returned, late at night when she was trying to sleep, haunting her for a long time to come.
Too late now to bite back the sharp words. Willow instead tried to soften the edge in her voice with a smile.
“I’m Roger’s secretary,” the woman said with a measure of hesitation. “Or at least I was until a few days ago.”
“He fired you?” Jimmy sounded incredulous. “Oh, that rat! One day he’s going to get what’s coming to him…”
Jimmy’s fury trailed off into confusion as he appeared to realize the day had already been and gone.
“Did you work for Roger long?” Willow asked before she could stop herself. Another phrase to add to the insomnia list for future reference.
Instead of answering, the woman shook her head, nodded, then tipped her head forward to hide her face as tears dripped onto the pavement. “I’m so sorry,” the woman spluttered, pulling a tissue from her bag that wasn’t anywhere near enough to deal with her waterworks. “I-I need to g-go.”
She hurried away while Willow stared after her, still unsure why she’d been so rude to the poor thing. It wasn’t as though she had any reason to—until today she hadn’t even met her. At least not in any way that triggered her memory.
“That poor lady,” Jimmy said, gazing after her. “How on Earth could Roger fire her after she worked for him for so many years?”
“I’m sure he had a good reason.” This time Harmony noticed the edge and shook her head at Willow, so she bit her lip.
“Trisha has been working for Roger Randall for over twenty years.” Jimmy leaned his head closer to the two women, lowering her voice and checking no one was walking close by. “She ‘worked late’ a lot more nights than she probably needed to, if you get my drift.”
Willow got his drift and felt as though a cold hand had reached into her chest, squeezing her heart until it skipped a few beats.
He wasn’t your husband. You didn’t even have a proper relationship. So what if he slept with his secretary? All you did was share a couple of cups of tea.
But that mean voice would have her crying soon, and Willow didn’t want her emotions on display in the high street. Bad enough she looked like a puffer fish thanks to Mavis. She should have stayed at home.
“I hope you’re not interfering with a witness, Mrs. Foxglove.”
Willow was pleased to see Sheriff Wender walk up to their group. A distraction was just what she needed.
“We’re not doing anything of the sort,” Harmony said, her voice brimming with indignation. “And if you wanted to talk to Jimmy before anybody beat you to it, you should have got here a bit sooner. It’s just gone twelve, for goodness sake.”
Willow hid a smile as her friend’s words forced the sheriff back a step. Then she grabbed hold of Harmony’s arm and pulled her away. “Let the sheriff get on with his business,” she stated, “and we’ll get on with ours. Let’s go get that lunch.”
The new café was crowded, but the waiter still managed to find the two women a table. The seating was outside, in the direct sunshine, but Willow didn’t mind. In the tag end of fall, a nice day was a thing to be treasured. Soon enough, the sun would be playing hide and seek until mid-morning, only to scurry out of sight by late afternoon.
“What are you two ladies doing here?”
Willow turned with a smile to see Reg leaning on the café’s ropes. She was about to warn him not to put too much weight on them when one of the supports tilted over, nearly spilling her friend into the midst of their table. Reg recovered quickly, tipping his hat at the few patrons who’d expressed dismay.
“You may as well slip under that and take a seat with us,” Harmony said, still smiling at the display. “It seems safer somehow.”
Reg nodded and smiled in agreement, taking a seat just before the waiter brought out their menus—now one short.
“You don’t mind if our friend joins us,” Harmony said, phrasing it as a statement rather than a question.
As the waiter bustled off to find another menu and place setting, Reg took his hat off and placed it on his knee. Willow couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t worn one—a leftover from the good old days she missed, even though she’d been born in the same year JFK made it unpopular to wear hats.
“Did you see anything good last night?” Willow asked. “The night was clear for viewing, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” Reg agreed, leaning back as the waiter set a hurried place for him. “I did see a lot, as it happens, though very little in the region I was aiming for.”
“What region was that?” Harmony asked, an expression on her face saying she was humoring him. With her mind full of facts and figures, she didn’t pay much heed to Reg’s flights of fancy. Of course, Reg had a brain full of facts and figures too; they just disagreed as to which ones were the truth.
“I was trying to find something to reassure Mrs. Matthewson. She caught a glimpse of something in the center of town that has her worried. I just wanted to stake out the area to set the poor woman’s mind at ease.”
“Take her sherry off her for a few nights,” Harmony suggested. “That might calm down her imagination, so she can rest.”
“Not everything is a hallucination brought on by alcohol,” Reg scolded her.
“No,” Harmony agreed. “There’re many things bring on hallucinations. Belief in strange flying creatures from other planets, for instance.”
“Stop bickering, you two.” Willow waggled her finger at both of them. “We’re meant to be having a nice lunch out to cheer me up, not staging a public fight.”
At once, both her friend’s faces fell in dismay, and Willow felt a nip of regret.
“How did the glasses work out?” she asked, covering in the silence that threatened. “I haven’t gotten them out in the years since Molly died, so I hope they were still okay.”
“They were grand,” Reg said with a smile. “I trust you don’t mind me holding onto them for a few nights more?”
“You can hold onto them forever if you like. I’ve no use for binoculars.” As Willow said the words, Reg was already shaking his head.
“I know you don’t like people to touch Molly’s stuff. It won’t be for long anyhow. I talked to Gordon down at the pawn shop, and there’s a pair out back where the owners haven’t paid their ticket. Another day or two, they’ll forfeit, and he promised to let me know before they go up in the window display.”
Talk of the pawn shop made Willow feel uncomfortable. She hated to think of people in town being so hard up that they had to cash in their prized possessions. Although Willow had scraped along sometimes, choosing lesser cuts of meat and pinching pennies by shopping for specials, she’d never been brought that low. When she was growing up, Willow didn’t remember that same level of poverty she sometimes saw about her now.
That’s because you never looked hard enough, her mother’s voice remonstrated inside her head until Willow shook her away. “What did you see that was so interesting anyhow?”
“I’ll show you,” Reg said, pulling out his camera and flicking through the pictures until he reached the ones he sought.
Willow took the camera from him, cradling its weight as she peered at the small screen. She had reading glasses in her bag,
but they were for sitting at home on the sofa, not for use in public.
“What is that?” Willow was genuinely astonished to see what looked like a flying saucer taking up half the screen.
When Harmony rolled her eyes, Willow handed the camera along to her. “Well? What’s your explanation, then?”
“My explanation is, the two of you need to invest in spectacles if your eyesight is genuinely this bad.” Harmony placed the camera in the center of the table, pointing to the object. “That is not a UFO in case you were wondering. It’s a garden variety egg.”
“Why would an egg be flying across the town square?” Reg said, scoffing. “Now who's the one thinking crazy thoughts?”
“I presume someone threw it,” Harmony said, an edge creeping into her voice. “Let me see.” She began to flick through the images taken before and after. After a minute, she gasped and pulled the camera closer to her, minutely examining the frame.
“What is it?” Willow asked, feeling her heart pounding quicker with renewed excitement. If she didn’t have a peaceful day soon, she’d need to get into her doctor’s office to have a checkup.
“Reg.” Harmony shoved the camera back into his hands, tapping her fingernail on the screen. “You’ve caught a crime on camera. You need to take this to the sheriff’s office at once!”
Chapter Seven
“Is it Roger’s murder?” Willow asked, half of her not wanting to hear the answer.
When Harmony shook her head, she relaxed back in her seat, putting a palm flat against her chest.
“It might be related though.” Harmony pointed to the image again, but all Willow could see were tiny splotches. “That’s the teenager who ran into trouble last year for painting graffiti on the Robinsons’ fence. It looks like this time he’s been caught throwing eggs at a car.”
“What teenager?” Reg plucked his camera out of Harmony’s grasp, edging his shoulder between them when she tried to take it back. He peered at the screen through watery eyes, and Willow pulled her reading glasses out of her bag.
“Try these. They won’t be your prescription, but they might help.”
Reading glasses couldn’t be worn in public by her, but Willow saw no problem with others using them.
“Oh,” Reg said, disappointment evident in his voice. “Yes, I see. That’s the Layton kid. Trisha’s son.”
“The Trisha we just met?” Willow frowned and looked at Harmony, who appeared to be connecting the dots.
“That’s right.” Harmony clicked her fingers. “Mael Layton. Yeah. If Trisha is his mom, then I guess that’s reason enough to be acting out like that. If even old Jimmy is upset she got fired, imagine what her son must feel.”
“But what does his mom getting fired have to do with him throwing eggs?”
“Because,” Harmony said, pulling the camera forcibly out of Reg’s hands, “this is Roger Randall’s car he’s vandalizing.”
Willow stole her glasses back, straight off Reg’s face, and peered at the screen again. The smudges and smears immediately reassembled into a picture. She nodded.
“That’s Roger’s car, all right.”
Suddenly, she didn’t feel like having lunch. Willow just wanted to go home and crawl back under the covers. If there was one day that had gone wrong from the moment she woke up, this was the one.
“Come on, then,” Harmony said, getting to her feet just as the waiter arrived tableside to take their order. “We’re not staying. We need to get this vital evidence straight to the sheriff!”
They did get the evidence into the sheriff’s office but getting it to the sheriff himself took a much longer wait. The lobby of the station was nothing much to speak of, just a couple of wooden chairs Reg insisted the ladies took while he remained standing. Given the way he kept flexing his arthritic knee, Willow wished he’d just taken the seat.
When half an hour had passed, Willow walked up to the receptionist—Mary Jo Parsons, voted most popular in high school, and Willow couldn’t remember another single fact about her—and reminded her they were there.
“He won’t be too long,” Mary Jo replied, ignoring the fact that too long had already been and gone. They were now working on far too long, or really far too long for sure.
“It is very urgent that we speak with him,” Willow repeated. “It’s related to the murder of Roger Randall.”
“Oh, I know, hon. I made sure to tell the sheriff that when I passed on your names the first time. I’ve already sent him one reminder, though. If I push through a second to his computer, he’ll just think I’m nagging.”
“Perhaps you should be nagging him,” Harmony said. She stood up and joined Willow at the counter. “This is most irregular. We’re talking about evidence that might help solve a murder, and you’re just keeping us sitting out here waiting for a good hour.”
“Not quite that long, hon.”
They retook their seats, Willow’s stomach rumbling. “If I’d known Jacob would take this long to see us, I would’ve just stayed and eaten our lunch.”
“Try this,” Harmony said, rooting around in her bag and producing a Pez dispenser brimming with candy. “I don’t know why, but these things always cheer me up.”
Willow wavered for a second, but candy would just make her stomach call out for food even worse. She handed it back reluctantly just as Sheriff Wender finally came to wave them through.
As they walked in, Jimmy Niko walked out. It took Willow a few seconds to recognize him without the familiar sandwich board covering his midriff. She frowned as he trudged out of the station.
“Don’t you think you should be keeping tabs on Jimmy?” she asked as they followed the sheriff through into his cubicle. “He’s certainly the one in town with the biggest grudge against Roger.”
“He’s also got an alibi,” the sheriff said, hastily adding, “not that it’s any of your business.”
“It’s all our business,” Harmony stated firmly. “There’s a killer on the loose in our small community, so we’ve all got a vested interest in making sure you bring him to justice.”
“Or her,” Sheriff Wender said with a sharp nod at Willow.
Although a multitude of vibrant phrases sprang to her lips, Willow managed to keep them in check. The last thing she wanted was another visit to the interrogation room. It was only tolerable to walk into the station again knowing she was free to leave.
“We have some evidence of Roger’s car being vandalized,” Willow said. She nodded to Reg, who handed over the camera, looking concerned as the sheriff picked it up and started to flick through the images.
Sheriff Wender winced as he reached some of the final pictures. “Ooh. You’d think eggs would just wash off, but if you don’t get to them quick enough, there’s something in the albumen that binds to the paint. That looks like someone’s got a nasty clean-up job on their hands.”
“Not just someone,” Reg said with a stamp of his foot. “That’s Roger Randall’s car the kid is throwing eggs at.”
“Really?” The sheriff looked at the images again, then pulled his keyboard toward him and started to type. “Oh, here we go. You’re right!”
The surprise in Sheriff Wender’s voice was the most insulted Willow had felt all day. “Of course, we’re right. I know that license plate by heart. So should you, by now, if you were working this case seriously.”
She folded her arms and sat back in the chair, glaring at the sheriff.
The man’s cheeks flushed with color, and he pointed a finger at Reg. “This is good evidence of vandalism, but I don’t see what it has to do with the murder. We’ll keep this in the meantime.” He patted the camera. “And I’ll have someone return it to you when we’ve taken copies of the photographs.”
Reg looked positively alarmed at that news. Willow made a mental note to look through Molly’s belongings again. She was sure there was a camera stocked away somewhere. Even if it weren’t digital, Reg would know people who could still develop film.
“It’s
not just that, Sheriff,” Harmony said in a respectful voice. The tone appeared to calm the sheriff back into a state of equanimity, and he nodded at her to continue. “The boy in those photos is Mael Layton. His mother is Trisha Layton.”
The sheriff nodded, then stared at Harmony long enough, waiting for her to continue, that it became apparent he didn’t make the connection.
Willow sighed. “Trisha Layton was Roger’s secretary for twenty years.” Her tone of voice suggested everyone should know that, even though it was information new to her that morning. “Roger fired her a few days ago, and her son was caught on camera by Reg vandalizing his car last night. If he was angry enough to risk acting that way in the middle of the square with people about, imagine what he could have done if he came across Roger alone somewhere.”
Sheriff Wender held up his hand. “Okay, I get it. Thanks for this. I’ll pass the information on to my superiors and follow up on the lead. Do you have anything more?”
The three of them shook their heads and left the station. Willow, for one, felt quite disgruntled. “We’re practically doing his investigation for him, and Jacob can’t even be bothered to say thanks!”
“Maybe we should,” Harmony said in a thoughtful voice. “After all, it’s your neck on the line and your boyfriend who needs justice. Much as I respect the office of the sheriff, I’m disappointed in his reaction right about now.”
“I don’t know.” Reg took a step back. “Meddling about in official affairs is a good way to end up getting yourself disappeared. I’ve read about that happening often enough.”
Harmony stared at him with a frown, and Willow wondered if she should point out the contradiction of someone disappearing but everyone knowing about it. Better to leave it alone, she thought.
“I for one think just having a nice meal and thinking about all this tomorrow would be a better idea. Although I don’t mind passing over information to the sheriff, beyond that I don’t think we should become involved.”
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