A Deadly Edition

by Victoria Gilbert

  Samantha shot me a concerned glance. “I doubt it, don’t you, Amy? Plenty of other sources for that, including herbal stores in the city, if what I read in the paper is right.”

  “It is used in some traditional medicines. Although not in a concentration meant to kill.” I slid the checked-out book down the counter beyond the point where the security gates would set off an alarm. “But maybe you should mention this to Brad Tucker or someone else at the sheriff’s department, Bethany. Couldn’t hurt to cover all the bases.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks.” Clutching the book to her breast, Bethany bobbed her head in a silent good-bye before scurrying out of the building.

  “I sure hope that stuff wasn’t taken from her garden,” Samantha said, her dark eyes glistening with concern. “Bethany’s had enough trouble in her life. The last thing she needs is to be mixed up in this latest murder.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. Which is why I suggested she talk to the authorities. If someone did raid her garden to concoct a poison, it’d be better that she mentioned the possibility up front.”

  “I guess so.” Samantha straightened a display of brochures from local attractions. “As long as they don’t jump to any conclusions.”

  “Brad Tucker won’t do that.” I considered the fact that Samantha, as a black woman, might have more reason to be distrustful of law enforcement than I did and added, “But maybe one of us should talk to him as well. We could let him know how horrified Bethany seemed over the idea that anyone might have used something from her garden to poison anyone.”

  “And that she definitely showed no glimmers of guilt,” Samantha said thoughtfully. “I can do that, if you want. You should be focusing on your wedding instead of all this murder stuff.”

  “Thanks, that would be a help. Ask for Brad Tucker when you call. He’s the one I trust the most, to be honest.”

  “Okay. I’ll give him a call on my break.” Samantha glanced over at the main doors. “Uh-oh, here comes the Nightingale. Who’s turn is it to trail her?”

  “Yours, but let me do it. I’ll be gone for three weeks after today, so it only seems fair,” I said as I circled around to the front of the circulation desk.

  “Not going to argue with that.” Samantha offered me a brief salute before I headed into the stacks.

  * * *

  The next day, Sunny picked me up and drove to the head of the Twin Falls trail.

  “This one, really?” I squinched up my face. “I don’t have great memories of this trail.”

  “That’s why we need to hike it. Get all those bad memories out of your system,” Sunny said as she threw open her car door and jumped out.

  I climbed out of her bright-yellow Volkswagen Beetle more slowly. As we walked to the start of the trail, I tied my sweat shirt around my waist. It was warm in the sun, but because we were hiking in a mountain forest, I knew I might need more coverage later. “Just so we don’t encounter any fae folk. I really don’t want to be dragged off to their underground lair right before my wedding.”

  Sunny cast me a grin over her shoulder. “I thought you didn’t believe in such things.”

  “I don’t. Mostly,” I replied, as I followed her into the woods.

  The temperature immediately dropped a few degrees as the canopy of leaves overhead filtered out the May sun. The trail, beaten down by many feet over the years, was devoid of vegetation, but on either side of us, pines and hardwoods soared up to the sky. A tangled undergrowth of shrubs, ferns, and weeds filled the spaces between the trees, making leaving the path a dubious and—given the possibility of snakes and other wild creatures—dangerous choice.

  “So what’s this bachelor-party-that-really-isn’t thing that Karla and Scott are planning?” Sunny asked, as I quickened my pace to walk beside her. “I heard Karla say something about it being tonight rather than the traditional night before the wedding.”

  “Yeah, they had to do that for two reasons. One, because they didn’t want to interfere with the rehearsal dinner Friday night. Scott said they knew Richard would absolutely refuse to go out afterwards, because he told them he wanted to get plenty of sleep before the wedding.”

  Sunny arched her brows. “Because he doesn’t plan to sleep much Saturday night?”

  “Ha-ha. Very funny.” I swatted her arm lightly. “Don’t be rude.”

  “Well, I mean …” Sunny flashed me another grin. “But weddings are exhausting, of course. And there will obviously be a lot of dancing.”

  “You can count on that.” I side-eyed her. “I hope Fred can dance, so you have a decent partner.”

  “He says he has some moves, but we’ll see.” Sunny glanced at me. “What was the other reason?”

  “What? Oh, you mean why they’re taking Richard out this evening?”

  “Yeah. I mean, they could’ve aimed for tomorrow night.”

  “No, because they planned it around a special event.” I cast Sunny a smile. “Something Richard will love, if I know him. There’s this hip-hop dance crew competition at some venue close to DC tonight, and Karla and Scott have gotten tickets for that.”

  “Very cool. Richard will enjoy it, I’m sure.”

  “Absolutely. And I think there’s barhopping involved later, although poor Karla has to be the designated driver, so she’ll miss out on that fun.”

  “She may be grateful for that tomorrow morning.” Sunny lifted her chin and looked up into the leaves fluttering above our heads. “Beautiful day, isn’t it? And from what I’ve seen on the weather, it should hold through Saturday.”

  “We did luck out with that, if the predictions prove to be true. Kurt arranged for some extra tents on standby, but it looks like it will be a clear day.”

  Sunny glanced at me. “Good ol’ Kurt. Always ready to come through in a crisis.” She frowned. “You don’t really think he’s capable of murder, do you?”

  “Capable? Yes. Do I think he killed Oscar Selvaggio? No.”

  Sunny tossed her head, bouncing her long ponytail. “Someone did. Any ideas as to who?”

  Slipping on my sweat shirt, I considered her question with care. “I’ve accumulated what feels like a lot of unrelated information, so I could make some guesses, but I don’t have a solid theory yet.”

  “Or at least not one you want to share.” Sunny stopped for a moment to tie her shoe. “Like something that involves Richard’s old dance coach, maybe?”

  “Why would you think that?” I said, furiously trying to remember everything I’d shared with her about Adele’s relationship with Selvaggio.

  “Oh, I’ve heard some rumors, that’s all.” Sunny straightened and flashed me a smile. “You know how Zelda is. She apparently saw that Selvaggio guy grab Adele Tourneau at Kurt’s party and said you seemed pretty taken aback when she mentioned it to you.”

  I sighed. “Zelda talks too much.”

  “No joke, but it made me wonder …” Sunny strode off, forcing me to jog to keep up with her.

  “She does have a history with him.” I motioned for Sunny to slow down. “Even more than I originally told you, honestly.” I took a deep breath before I filled her in on all the additional information I’d discovered about Adele’s connections to Oscar Selvaggio.

  Well, not all. I left out any mention of my late uncle.

  “She tried to kill him once before? Wow, that must put her at the top of Brad’s suspect list,” Sunny said, when I’d shared all the facts I’d collected.

  “I don’t know. He still seems interested in Kurt. And then there’s that weird connection to the leader of that drug operation.”

  “Esmerelda?” Sunny swept an errant lock of hair behind one ear. “Fred told me about her. She was responsible for him getting injured and leaving the police force and for his partner getting killed. Well, her gang was, anyway.”

  “I know. Which makes this whole investigation pretty personal for him. But while I can understand an interest in Selvaggio’s dealings with her, I don’t see why she’d want him dead. He wa
s selling artwork, not stealing from her.”

  “Maybe he swindled her?” Sunny stopped for a moment, her gaze apparently caught by something off to her left. “Sold her some forgeries or something? You know that happens a lot, and he apparently wasn’t the most honest person …”

  I grabbed her arm. “Brilliant! That would explain so much. If he cheated her, someone like Esmerelda could easily have wanted him dead. She wouldn’t even have had to do the deed herself. Just get one of her flunkies …” I closed my lips over the next words that had bubbled up to my lips. Esmerelda or one of her henchmen could also have blackmailed someone into doing their dirty work, I thought. Someone who was in their debt …

  Sunny turned her head to look at me. “Shhhh.” She placed a finger to her lips. “Someone’s out there, walking through the brush.”

  “It’s probably just an animal,” I said, but lowered my voice.

  “I saw something moving. Just a flash, but too tall to be an animal,” Sunny whispered.

  A chill peppered my arms. “A bear?”

  “No, not that bulky or shaggy. I think it’s a person.”

  “Someone lost their way? Or a hunter?”

  “It’s not hunting season, although that doesn’t always stop people.” Sunny took a few steps off the path. As she peered into the dense foliage, I heard rustling leaves and the snapping of twigs.

  “Maybe we should move on,” I said, tugging on her arm.

  She nodded and backed away from the edge of the forest. Keeping an eye on the side of the trail, we both set off at a jog.

  “There’s a side path. Leads to Delbert Frye’s cabin,” I said, my voice breaking slightly.

  Sunny gave me a thumbs-up. “Good idea,” she mouthed at me, while footfalls echoed behind us.

  Right before we turned onto the side trail, I glanced over my shoulder just long enough to glimpse a tall, thin, dark-haired man stepping out of the woods.

  Lance Dalbec, I thought, picking up my pace. Who has no reason to be out here, wandering through the mountain forest, unless he actually is chasing me. “Run,” I whispered to Sunny.

  We rushed toward the small circle of light at the end of the trail. That was the clearing, close to a cabin owned by Delbert Frey, a hermit who, among other things, had a gun he was not afraid to use to threaten trespassers.

  Who would protect us, if we could reach his house in time.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sunny and I raced across the short stretch of open field that separated the woods from Delbert’s rustic cabin. As we clattered up the rough steps to the front porch, I stared back at the trail, but saw no one. Apparently Dalbec had not seen us turn off the main path.

  Which didn’t mean that he wouldn’t eventually figure that out and backtrack to follow us. I pounded on Delbert’s front door as Sunny leaned against one of the porch posts, her chest rising and falling under her Vista View Farms T-shirt.

  The door opened a crack. “Amy Webber, what are you doing out here, girl?” said the grizzled older man who peered out at me.

  “My friend Sunny and I were hiking the Twin Falls trail, but then we spied this man who seemed to be following us …”

  The door flew open. “Get in, get in,” said Delbert Frye.

  I rushed inside, Sunny on my heels. Delbert, a short, wiry man in his eighties, grabbed the shotgun from a gun rack right inside the door and stepped out onto the porch.

  I crossed the main room of the cabin, which was almost as dim as the forest. There were no overhead fixtures, only standing lamps that cast yellow ovals of light over isolated areas, and the small windows cut into the exposed log walls didn’t provide much illumination.

  “This is definitely rustic.” Sunny looked around, her gaze sweeping over the handcrafted furniture that filled the room and the faded rag rugs that covered the wooden plank floors. “I like it.”

  I pointed up at the shelf that ran in a continuous track around all four walls. It was set far enough below the timbered ceiling to accommodate stringed instruments of all shapes and sizes. There were fiddles, banjos, and a variety of dulcimers. “There’s Delbert’s passion on display. Making those instruments and playing folk music.”

  “Beautiful,” Sunny said, her eyes widening as she surveyed the shelves.

  I motioned to a seating area near a stone fireplace. “We can have a seat, I think. Delbert will make sure that guy doesn’t try to approach the cabin.” I sat down on a pine settle draped in a woven wool blanket.

  Sunny plopped down beside me. “I’ve heard plenty of stories about Mr. Frye. Some of them from you. I think you said he scares people off with his shotgun but has never fired at anyone?”

  “Yeah, he can intimidate without actually doing any harm,” I said. “He’s a brilliant musician too. I think I mentioned that as well.”

  “I’d love to hear him play,” Sunny said, examining the instruments filling the high shelves. “I bet the grands would as well.”

  “Unfortunately, he’s very shy about performing,” I said, closing my lips over my next words as Delbert entered the cabin.

  Closing and locking the front door, Delbert lifted the shotgun back onto the rack. “I spied some dark-haired fellow over by the entrance to the trail, but the minute he saw me, he skedaddled.”

  “The minute he saw your gun, you mean,” I said.

  Delbert Frye’s smile lit up his weathered face. “Most likely.”

  “I think we should call Brad,” Sunny said. “Some stranger following two women on a mountain path is a bit suspicious.”

  “More than you even know,” I said, as Delbert crossed the room and sat on a worn armchair whose springs visibly pressed against its floral-patterned upholstery. “I’ve encountered him a couple of times before,” I added, before describing my run-ins with the supposed art broker. “To be honest, I don’t think that’s his real career.”

  “More likely some kind of criminal,” Delbert said, running his fingers through the fringe of white hair that encircled his bald pate. “He had the look of a con man.”

  “I think you’re probably right,” I agreed, before turning to Sunny. “And you’re right too. We should call Brad about this.”

  “I’ll give him a shout,” Sunny said, sliding her cell phone from the pocket of her yoga pants.

  Delbert pointed to a larger window at the back of the house, over the sink. “Better reception over there.”

  Sunny nodded and walked over to the kitchen area, punching in numbers she’d obviously memorized when she and Brad were a couple.

  “So, Delbert”—I pressed my spine against the wooden back of the settle—“are you going to attend my wedding or not? You haven’t actually responded to my invitation. I thought maybe you were planning to escort Mary Gardener, who has sent word that she’ll be there.”

  Delbert’s face reddened, a clue, like the cinnamon streaks in his beard, to what I suspected was his original russet hair color. “Not sure. Big crowd, isn’t it? And Mary has another date.”

  “Kurt?” I smiled. Mary Gardener, an elderly woman who kept alive the oral tradition of the area’s mountain folktales, had been a housekeeper at the orphanage where Kurt lived as a child. They’d bonded there and remained friends ever since.

  “Yep, that Kendrick fellow. Mary told me he asked her as soon as you and your fiancé set the date.” Delbert glanced up at the display of instruments. “Truth is, I wouldn’t mind coming, ’specially as my great-niece will be there with that man of hers. But I don’t really feel like I’d belong at such an event.”

  “Nonsense,” I said. “Like you said, Mary will be there, as well as Alison, and probably a few other people you’ll know. And it isn’t going to be a really formal occasion, so you don’t have to worry about that. We’re getting married in my fiancé’s backyard, and the reception will simply spill over into my aunt’s garden.”

  “All right then.” Delbert met my gaze with a wary smile. “But only if I can be there as a musician rather than a guest.”
He pointed at the dulcimer leaning up against a stool near the hearth. “I’d feel more comfortable that way. I like to be doing something useful rather than just standing around.”

  “I won’t argue with that,” I said, as Sunny walked back across the room. “I’d love for you to play something at the wedding or the reception. Whichever you prefer.”

  “Really?” Sunny sat down beside me, her bright gaze fixed on Delbert’s face. “You’re going to play something at Amy’s wedding, Mr. Frye? That would be splendid.”

  Delbert shrugged. “Good practice before my great-niece’s ceremony, I guess.”

  Sunny’s elbow banged into my arm. “Are Alison and Brad getting married?” She shot me a sharp look. “I hadn’t heard that.”

  “So I’m told. Didn’t think it was a secret,” Delbert said, his expression sobering as he obviously remembered that Sunny and Brad had been involved in a relationship before Brad started dating Alison.

  “I think that’s wonderful.” Sunny’s beaming smile seemed to set Delbert at ease.

  I shot her a sidelong look. I knew she didn’t care that Brad was marrying Alison but suspected that she didn’t like being the last to know about it.

  “What did Brad have to say about our encounter in the woods?” I asked, hoping to divert her attention from this slight.

  “He’s sending deputies out to search for Dalbec. They definitely want to question him. Apparently, the sheriff’s department has had some suspicions about the guy ever since he showed up in Taylorsford.”

  Ever since I told them a slightly altered tale about some stranger matching his description running into me and then tracking me down at the library, I thought, but decided not to voice this thought aloud.