by Tegan Maher
She jerked her chin down in a quick nod. "But go lock yourself in his office first. I'm not taking any chances."
I did as she said, then she faded out, calling, "I'll be right back," as she did so.
Sure enough, it wasn't five minutes before she materialized in front of me again.
"He's on his way here, and he sent a couple of deputies to the airport. Security caught her just as she was boarding. I popped over there just to make sure she didn't get away, and she raisin' one heck of a ruckus, demanding her lawyer and insisting they had the wrong person."
"I bet she was," I said. "She almost got away with it."
Sirens sounded in the background, and I went to open the front gates for them. After Charlie was strapped onto a gurney and wheeled to the ambulance, Gabe, the local sheriff and Dee's boyfriend, turned to me, his expression grim.
We'd built a solid friendship since he'd started dating my best friend, but I could tell that was strained at the moment. After all, this wasn't exactly the first body I'd found.
"I swear, Toni. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn't stand next to you for fear of gettin' struck by lightening."
"Hey," I replied, glaring at him. "That's mean. Besides, it's not like I'm a harbinger of death or something. I just find them."
"Still," he said. "Most people I know have never seen a dead body outside of a college class or funeral parlor, and you stumble across them like others do shiny rocks."
I didn't say anything because he wasn't wrong.
"So tell me what happened here. And why exactly am I picking up the woman from the airport? Ms. Maisey only gave me the bare bones."
After sharing the conversation I'd had with Amelia Pennington, Gabe rubbed his chin.
"You really think she did it?"
"I don't know," I said, wrapping my arms around my middle. Even though it was ninety degrees, I was chilled. Shock, probably, which explained the nausea that had washed over me, too. "I just know what she said and how she acted. She didn't exactly come across as somebody who has a lot of conscience or compassion."
"Well based solely on what she said, it was worth keeping her in town even if she turns out to be innocent. It would have been a nightmare if she'd gone back to Boston." He pressed his lips together and his face softened as he took a closer look at me. "Are you okay to drive? You look like a strong wind would blow you over. I can give you a lift. I need to interview Dee anyway."
I thought about his offer, but shook my head. "Nah. I'm all right. The drive home will do me good. I'll roll the window down and get some fresh air."
"Okay, then," he said, turning back toward where they were loading poor Charlie onto a gurney. "I'll wrap things up here, then see you at the lodge. Oh ... were there any other vehicles here when you pulled in?"
I shook my head. "Nope. Just Charlie's van."
He nodded. "If I think of anything else, I'll ask when I get to the lodge."
"I'm going home, then," I said. "I see a glass of wine in my future, then we have a wedding to plan."
He gave a distracted wave, his attention already turned back toward the crime scene.
I picked my way from the lot back through to the large aluminum building that served as the storefront. As I passed the register, a leather-bound day planner caught my eye and I turned back toward where Gabe and his deputies were. They couldn't see me, and I chewed on my lip for a second, undecided.
Sighing, I gave in to my eternal nosiness and tiptoed to the counter, keeping a careful eye on the back exit to the building. So far, so good.
Using a Snoopy pencil I found on the counter, I flipped the book open and gently used the eraser to turn the pages to the current date. The calendar was a mess—names and phone numbers were scribbled in the margins, doodles covered the corners, and several appointments were scratched out. Between the bleed-through from the page before and the fact that his handwriting barely qualified as chicken scratch, it was tough to read.
My gaze skimmed over the appointments to his last one—sure enough, it was with Amelia. I blew eraser droppings off the time and frowned. During our last conversation, she'd said she'd talked to him that morning, but her appointment was barely an hour before I'd arrived. On a whim, I took out my phone and snapped a picture of the page.
I furrowed my brow as I closed the book. Gabe needed to know about this, but I didn't want to admit that I'd gone through the planner. We'd gotten off to a rocky start, and the last thing I wanted to do was cause friction. With one last guilty glance toward the back, I decided there was no reason it couldn't come up in our conversation when he came to the lodge. I'd just mention having seen the planner in case he missed it.
I stepped back from the counter, lost in thought, and about fell flat on my face when I stepped on something slick. Scowling, I bent down to pick up a satiny navy scarf from the faded gray-brown color of the wood-planked floors that I hadn't seen it. I tossed it on the counter so nobody else would trip and kill themselves on it, then made my way to my car.
Despite having the weight of the world on my shoulders, I smiled a little as I exited the building. Several colorful hanging baskets brightened the porch, swaying a little in the breeze, and cauldron-shaped pots overflowing with petunias lined the steps on the way down.
The world was gonna be a little less colorful without Charlie in it.
CHAPTER FIVE
I NO SOONER MADE IT through the door than Dee pressed a glass of wine into my hand and pulled out the kitchen chair for me. She knew me well—the two things I needed most in the world right then were alcohol and a place to collapse and process.
Bear ambled in from the living room and licked my hand, then collapsed in a heap, his giant head on my feet as he gazed at me with his soulful, liquid brown eyes. Despite my mood, a small smile curved my lips and I bent over to give his ears a scratch. Dogs always knew.
"Are you okay?" Dee asked, worry filling her blue eyes as she took the seat catty-corner to me.
I pulled in a deep breath and took a long sip of wine before I answered. "I guess so. I mean, I just found a dead guy. And believe me—it wasn't pretty." My mind flashed back to when I'd first rounded the corner and found Charlie. The dark, sticky, matted hair, the blank, staring eyes when I flipped him over. I shivered and took another pull from my wine.
"It's just surreal. I should have known something was wrong when he didn't greet me when I pulled up. Charlie always greets me."
Flowers were one of the few instant fixes that could make even the most run-down of houses look better, and over the months that it had taken to get the lodge back to its former glory, I'd often felt overwhelmed. When I'd lose hope, I'd go to Charlie's and buy a hanging basket or a pot of something colorful to brighten both the house and my spirits.
Dee patted me on the back. "At least they managed to catch the old witch before she got away. It's not much, but it's something."
"A small something," I said. "But you're right."
Bear raised his head and glanced toward the front door, then gave a soft wuff. Right on cue, a car door opened and closed, followed a few seconds later by a knock on the door.
"I'll see who it is and get rid of them," Dee said, rising from her chair.
"Depending on who it is, you don't have to do that. Unless it's a reporter or something. Then feel free to give them the boot."
I drained my wine glass and savored the warmth that flushed through me. The urge to pour another glass was almost more than I could resist, but nothing good would come from it. Besides, no matter what, we still had a wedding to plan and a ton of stuff to do in just three days, and we were gonna need every minute.
I poked my head into the foyer to see who'd come to visit and was surprised to see a petite blonde woman talking to Dee.
"Hi," I said, then looked to Dee to make the introductions.
My friend shifted her weight from from foot to foot, consternation on her face. "Toni, this is Stephania Pennington, our bride-to-be."
"Oh," I said.
Next to Bigfoot, she was probably the last person I'd expected to see. "How do you do?"
Before the words were even out of my mouth, I felt ridiculous for saying them. Her wedding—the day that was supposed to be one of the best in her life—was in a few days, and I'd just sent her mother to jail for murder. The answer to that question was obvious.
"I'm sorry," I said before she could answer. "I imagine you're confused and angry, and probably here to tell us you don't want anything else to do with us. I can give you a few recommendations."
She waved her hand. "No, that's not why I'm here at all. And please, call me Stevie. Stephania sounds so ... Boston." She gave us a wry smile. "I'm here because Ginny, Lucas's sister, says you might be able to find out who killed poor Charlie."
Dee and I shared a confused look. "Not to put too fine a point on it, Stephania, but I pointed the sheriff in your mother's direction. I'm pretty sure we already know who killed him."
"But she didn't," Stephania said, and I cocked a brow at her.
She held her palms out in front of her. "I know, I know. She ran her mouth and said some pretty incriminating things. But when the rubber hits the road, she's not a killer. Rude, distant, overbearing ... sometimes downright mean? Yeah, she most certainly is. But a killer?" She shook her head, and her blonde hair swung around her face. "Nope. I don't buy it. And I'd like for you to help me prove it. I will, of course, compensate you for your time."
"The chief of police is more than competent," I said.
She dipped her head. "I'm sure he is. But you've met her. She doesn't exactly inspire people to want to go above and beyond for her, and from what I understand, that's what it's gonna take. Besides, two sets of eyes are better than one, right?"
I looked helplessly from her to Dee, who looked like she felt about as awkward as I did. The last thing I wanted was to to interfere in Gabe's work, or worse, go behind his back and work against him, especially since he was currently operating off what I'd reported to him.
"Please," Stephania said, her eyes begging me to understand. "I know how it looks. But I'm getting married in three days. I need my mother to be there, self-aggrandizing attitude and all."
I pulled in a deep breath and huffed it out through my cheeks. "What if I uncover evidence that proves she did it?"
"You won't," Stephania said, but held up a hand when I raised a brow at her. "Okay, if you do, then she goes to prison. Plain and simple. But that's not what you're going to find ... if you go into it assuming she's innocent like you're supposed to."
I snorted. "I'm not supposed to go in at all, let alone with a presumption of innocence. I run a lodge and bartend. My job usually consists of listening to people speculate about gossip, not postulate facts. But I'll do what I can."
Dee rubbed her face. "Gabe's not gonna like this," she said.
"I'm aware," I replied. "Maybe we should just tell him rather than sneaking around about it."
Doubt clouded her face. "I don't know which would be worse. Telling him or not telling him."
Stephania shrugged. "Why not just offer to help? Then you're not going against him and you're not stepping on any toes. If it'll help, I'll ask him myself."
I couldn't imagine that anything was gonna smooth it over, but being the big chicken that I was, I was perfectly happy to let her be the one to pop that pimple.
"Deal."
CHAPTER SIX
ONCE WE HAD THAT SETTLED, we sat down and talked about her wedding. She was being entirely too calm as far as I was concerned, but when I said something about it, she lifted a shoulder.
"I'm a problem solver. Am I worried about Mom? Of course. But I've done all I can to help. We've already postponed our wedding twice, and I'm not going to do it again. We're going to Hawaii on our honeymoon, and the plane leaves first thing Monday morning. We're gonna be on it." She gave me a small smile. "Besides, if we put it off until she's out of jail, you'll be dealing with her, not me. Do any of us really want that?"
Dee was quick to shake her head. "No, we do not. And you're right. If I'm going to get a cake made by Sunday, I need to get started. Please tell me you don't want a big, elaborate deal. I'm going to be pushing it as it is."
She shook her head. "Nope. The entire point of having the wedding here was keeping it simple. I just want to marry Lucas so we can get on with our lives, and frankly, I'm not exactly Miss Fancy Pants, much to my mother's dismay. Three tiers plus the topper. Will that be enough to feed fifty people? I looked online, and it said that would be enough for over a hundred servings, but that seems like a stretch to me. I don't want to have too much cake though."
Dee rolled her eyes. "One, if you're inviting fifty people from around here, you'll be hard pressed to hit the point of too much cake. And whoever came up with those serving estimates has obviously never been to a southern wedding. We're not ones to eat those teeny-tiny slices they count as a serving, but if I use a fourteen-inch round on the bottom, three tiers'll be more than enough for fifty guests with some left over for take-home. Maybe."
She led Stevie into the kitchen so they could look through some cake books. They worked out the rest of the details while I settled in on the couch with my laptop. I called Scout to ask if he knew a few guys who might be able to help us get the lodge ready in time. Fortunately, he did, though that didn't surprise me. I had no doubt he could have scared me up a genie in a bottle if I'd asked. The man seemed to have connections everywhere. Of course, he grew up in Mercy, so it stood to reason that he knew which ears to bend.
Within an hour, I'd managed to make arrangements with the head of the ladies auxiliary to borrow the tables, chairs, tableware, flatware, and serving pans they used for socials, and I'd ordered six cases of stemless wine glasses and coffee cups from a local vendor who'd promised—bless his heart—to get them overnighted. He had the forethought to suggest tablecloths, too.
I was working on a to-do list when Bear jumped up from his bed and loped to the door, tongue lolling and tail wagging. There were only two people he did that for aside from Dee and me—Scout and Gabe. Since I'd just talked to Scout, I knew my time was up.
"Knock, knock!" he called, pecking on the screen door.
"C'mon in," I said, setting aside my laptop. Dee's in the kitchen talking wedding cakes with Stevie."
He creased his forehead and I craned my neck to look up—and up—at him over the back of the sofa. He stood well over six feet, and was built like an athlete. He didn't usually have to go beyond just showing up to restore order, regardless of the circumstance.
"Stevie who? She didn't say she'd scored another wedding cake. That's great!"
I grimaced. "Stevie is Stephania." I gave that a minute to settle in, and when he didn't make the connection, I sighed. "Stephania Pennington. Amelia's daughter."
Dawning crossed his face and he stepped around and slid down onto the couch beside me. "So she's still goin' through with the wedding even though her mom's locked up for murder?"
"About that," I said, deciding to bite the bullet and tell him myself. "It seems Jeremy is best friends with Lucas."
He nodded. "Yeah, those two have been thick as thieves since the first grade. What about it? Is that why they want to have it here? Jeremy's throwing you guys the business?"
I shook my head. "I wish. No, Amelia basically pissed off everybody in town, and this was their last option. But that's not all."
"Okay, what is all?"
"She sorta asked if I'd look into the murder. She swears her mother didn't do it, and she wants somebody on the inside."
His face had gone an unhealthy shade of red.
"And Jeremy may have mentioned how I've ... err ... gotten lucky on a couple of other cases," I finished lamely.
He tilted his head and looked at me.
"So tell me what you think," he said, his voice lowered. "You're the one who sicced me on her to begin with. Do you still think she's guilty?"
I cast a glance toward the kitchen to be sure Stevie was still occupied, then
leaned toward him. "Honestly? Maybe. I think she's awful, and I don't think it's beyond her. We know she was there, and we know she was enraged. I'm not saying I believe she did it beyond a shadow of a doubt, but I think she's a solid suspect."
Gabe leaned back into the corner of the couch and propped his ankle on his knee, then studied me for a moment. "I can't officially let you into the investigation, but I'm about finished fighting with you about looking into things on your own. We're friends, and you're Dee's best friend. I don't want that kind of friction."
"So what do you propose?" I asked, suspicious about the unexpected turn.
"I propose that we work together, but on the sly, and I'm the boss. I have three deputies out right now either sick or on vacation. I'm undermanned and overworked as it is. It would be stupid to turn down help, and you have—as bad as I hate to admit it—proven you have a good eye and excellent instincts. And I know you're gonna do what you want, anyway. How about you do your thing, I'll do mine, and we'll share information?"
"That works," I said, then thought about the day planner. "Did you see his appointments for today?"
He huffed a disbelieving breath out through his nose, but his eyes were sparkling with humor. "I should have known you'd see that. Did you look in it, too?"
I grimaced a little, but wasn't going to lie about it. "Yeah, I did. Amelia told me she'd been there earlier that morning, but her appointment was at three. That would have been right before she came to the lodge."
"Yeah, I saw that," he said. "Of course, she could have misspoken, but it's not exactly common to mix up morning and evening. It's not looking good for her, you know."
"Oh, believe me. I know," I said.
"And so do I," Stevie said as she came into the room. "I assume you're the sheriff?"
Gabe started to push to his feet, but she waved him off then took a seat in the recliner beside the couch. "I'm not under any illusions. I know she looks guilty as sin. Shoot, if I were you, I'd have put her under the jail. But I would have been wrong. I'm telling you both—my mother didn't do this."