by Carly Winter
"You don't know," Byron replied. "You want it to be true because she's your friend, but you have absolutely no evidence to back up your feelings."
As I stared at my fingernail that had turned black, I realized he had a valid point. Carla had been distant since the murder and didn't seem very concerned that the sheriff had her in his crosshairs. Touching base with her to find out what was going on with her case was more difficult than getting a politician to be truthful.
Maybe she felt guilty about what she'd done and was ready to go away for it.
"Are we finished here?" Byron asked.
"I guess so," I said. "I was just hoping you'd look at the other people I mentioned."
Byron stood, his chair scraping against the tile. "I'll run it by the sheriff."
I followed him to the front door.
"Will you step outside with me?" he asked, his voice quiet.
"What's up?" I asked before closing the door behind me. The sun had set and the cold air gave me goosebumps, even though I wore a long-sleeved shirt.
"Are you still seeing that druggie?"
I sighed as my anger heated me from within. "He's not a druggie, Byron. He had some problems in his youth but has straightened himself out."
Lightning cracked and lit up his face for a brief second. His brow furrowed in fury, he fisted his hands at his sides.
"Once a druggie, always a druggie, Tilly. Trust me on that."
"It's really none of your business who I'm seeing," I said through gritted teeth. "Is there anything else?"
Another bolt cracked in the sky. Byron's features softened and I swore his eyes teared up just a bit before he glanced over at Derek's house. "I just don't understand what happened between us. I thought we got along really well."
Ah, yes… the one conversation I had desperately wanted to avoid. How did I tell him that he bored me, that I found him nice to look at, but his head was emptier than an abandoned dumpster?
I didn't. I wouldn't hurt him that way.
"Byron, it's not you. It's me."
Regret coursed through me as the words hit the space between us and I tried to backtrack to save myself. "What I mean is, when you asked me out, I'd just gotten divorced. I should have said no. I wasn't in a good place mentally."
"And now? What about now?"
I glanced over at Derek's house. Yes, I was in a better place, and some of that had to do with my budding relationship with Derek, but most of it had to do with me feeling a lot better about myself. I excelled at my job and I had wonderful friends. I'd lost weight. I'd made my house mine and erased Tommy from it. So yes, things were looking up, but that didn't mean I wanted to date Byron.
"I'm doing well," I said, deciding to be honest. "It's just not going to work between us."
He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. "This hurts, Tilly."
"I'm sorry to upset you," I said, laying my hand on his forearm. "I don't want to do that."
A gust of wind whipped across my porch and sent a chill down my spine. I needed to wrap this up.
"I hope we can still be friends, Byron. There's no reason why we can't spend time together in that capacity."
He nodded and stepped off the porch. Just as I was about to head inside, he turned around. "Are the chickens okay?"
"They're fine. Tinker is still having her love affair with them."
Byron glanced around my driveaway as the rain pelted him. It reminded me of a romantic movie where the woman had just broken the man’s heart and he walked away in the downpouring rain, his will to live gone.
Finally, he looked back at me. "Take care, Tilly."
"You too," I replied. "I'll see you around, and feel free to stop by anytime."
As soon as he slid into the patrol vehicle, I went back inside, feeling terrible. At least I had been more honest and nicer to him than Tommy had been with me during our separation.
"It's so cold out there," I said, my teeth chattering.
"Winter is coming," Debbie said, her voice ominous. "Almost time for me to break out the peppermint coffee and caramel donuts."
"I hope we don't get too much snow."
"You and me both, Tilly. You and me both."
I picked up another puzzle piece and studied what we'd accomplished. I tried it in a couple different places, and finally snapped it in. Even though it was only one piece, I raised my hands in triumph.
My thoughts returned to my conversation with Byron. If he was only going to pass my theories on to the sheriff instead of actually investigating them, chances were good they'd be ignored. I needed to follow up with some of my suspects. I could do that under the guise of being a reporter, but I may be confronting a murderer, which was dangerous business.
12
The next morning, I stood at my kitchen sink gulping down a quick cup of coffee and holding Belle when I saw Derek walking from his house to mine carrying a box I recognized as one from Debbie's Deliciousness.
"Oh, my word, Belly-Belle," I murmured as I stroked her head. "That man has brought us donuts. He keeps getting better and better at this dating stuff. Before long, I'm going to think he's perfect."
She swished her tail and meowed.
"Let's go see. I just hope they're sugar-free."
I opened the door as he bounded up the steps. "Good morning!"
"Hey, Tilly," he said, his face breaking into a large smile. "I was hoping you'd have time to have breakfast with me."
The way he stared at me curled my toes. It was as if I had become the most important person in his life and he couldn't wait to be with me.
"I have a few minutes," I replied, stepping aside and allowing him to pass. “That's really sweet of you. Thank you."
As I followed him to the kitchen, I set Belle down. She immediately began weaving in and out of his legs and he handled it like a pro—barely a misstep.
He sat down at the kitchen table and Tinker burst through her dog door and over to Derek, her tail wagging a million miles an hour.
"Hey, girl!" he said, scratching behind her ears. "I'm glad to see you, too."
I poured two cups of coffee and joined him.
"Debbie said you like sugar-free." He opened the box.
"That's true. Thank you. Have you had these? The strawberry is amazing."
I pulled one out and set it on a napkin in front of me.
"Debbie said those were your favorites."
I groaned after taking a bite, then covered my mouth with my hand. "It sounds like you and Debbie are in cahoots."
"Just want to make sure I got you the right donuts," Derek said as he ate. "These are good."
We sat in silence for a few moments while we devoured the deliciousness.
"So, what's on your agenda today?" he asked as he sat back in his chair and took a sip of coffee.
"I'm going up to Little River for a few hours, but then I'll be back at the office this afternoon."
"What's in Little River?"
"I'm writing an article on Martinez's Mexican Fiesta. There's someone up there I need to interview."
I rose from the table and went to the refrigerator to get the cream for my coffee while hoping he didn't ask me any further questions. I didn't want to lie, but I also knew he wouldn't approve that I was planning to see Darryl Hill, the owner of the Mexican restaurant Jake had shut down for health violations. I'd tried to call, but the only number I'd been able to find had been out of service.
There was no way for me to tie him to a story except through Jake's murder, and Derek cared enough to not want me investigating that.
"What are you doing today?" I asked, hoping to change the subject. "Anything exciting?"
"Actually, yes," he said as I sat down.
"What's that?"
"Well, first, there's going to be a little ceremony at the school. I bought them new instruments for the band class, and they're going to be playing for me today."
I stared at him a beat, shocked to my core. His well of generosity shouldn't surprise me,
but it did. In the past few months, he'd also purchased computers for the library, blankets for the homeless shelter, and spent a few evenings reading to the kids who lived there. I admired that he sat on a stack of cash and wanted to help others.
His kindness actually brought tears to my eyes.
"Why are you crying?" He reached for my hand, his blue gaze shining with concern.
"You're the nicest person," I replied as the tears fell and I wiped them away.
"Not always, Tilly," he whispered. "When I was on drugs, I did some horrible things. I guess I'm trying to atone for my behavior back then."
We hadn't really discussed his past in great detail. I knew he’d stolen from his parents and his father, Mr. York, had said that the stress of his addiction had killed Derek's mother. But besides that, I knew nothing.
The life of a drug addict was completely foreign to me. Did I want to know the horrible things he'd done, or would it only taint my growing appreciation of him?
People were not perfect, and the world was not made up of black and white. Shades of gray lay everywhere and people could change.
"Perhaps sometime you can tell me about your past... what your life was like when you were on drugs."
Derek took a sip of his coffee before answering. "I don't know if that's something I want to share with you. It wasn't pretty."
"I'm sure it wasn't, but I think we should discuss it."
"You're probably right," he replied with a sigh. "But not now."
"No, definitely not now. What's the other thing you're going to do?"
"Well, I bought the orchard next door, and I'm having the land razed."
This stunned me more than his generous gift to the band club.
The orchard had burned down about five months ago and the owner, Bill Rupert, had simply disappeared.
"Did the property go into foreclosure?"
"It did. I've had my attorney watching for that, and I scooped it up. I don't know about you, but I'm tired of looking at those black, mangled trees."
"Oh, goodness, yes! The orchard was so beautiful, especially when the trees were in bloom. I miss them."
"Why don't you think about what you would like to see over there?"
"Are you going to keep the property?"
"I don't know. I could turn it and make a profit, but I'd also like to have some control over what's done with it. I don't think we need any more cows with incredible escape skills around."
"Agreed," I said with a laugh.
We finished our coffee in comfortable silence, then I glanced at the clock. "I really need to get going."
"Of course," he said, quickly standing and grabbing both of our coffee cups, then hurrying over to the sink.
We walked out the front door together, and I said goodbye to Tinker and Belle before shutting it.
"Have a great day, Tilly," he said, running his hands over my arms.
My heartrate quickened. Was it his touch or all the coffee I’d consumed? "You, too."
Butterflies tickled my belly and heat rushed into my cheeks.
"Can I give you a kiss?"
"I'd really like that," I whispered.
As his lips met mine, I couldn't think of a more perfect way to start my day.
The drive to Little River went smoothly--very little traffic and no road construction, which surprised me. It seemed like they always had that stretch of highway torn up for some reason or another.
I tried to breathe through the nervous energy coursing through me. My ex lived in Little River, and although chances were slim I'd actually run into him, I worried I would. We weren't exactly friendly after our last conversation when I'd told him to come get his stuff or I was donating it to Goodwill. He'd never showed, and I'd followed through on my promise. I just didn't want any confrontation with him to ruin my day.
I'd found Darryl Hill's address through Google, and when I pulled up in front of the closed Mexican restaurant, Cantina Mexicana, I sat in the car staring at the abandoned building.
"What the heck?" I murmured. "Did I drive all the way up here for the wrong address?"
I pulled out my phone and looked it up again. The almighty Google told me that Darryl Hill lived there, in apartment number two.
"Maybe Google is wrong."
While debating whether or not to drive back home or knock on the front door of the abandoned building, I saw a man walk around from the back of the restaurant and over to two mailboxes by the sidewalk that I hadn't noticed before.
Was there an apartment behind the main structure?
I pushed the drive gear into park and slid out of my truck. A few papers fell to the pavement, and I reached down and grabbed them, then threw them back into the truck. I really needed to clean it out. The man had gathered his mail and was walking the way he'd come.
"Excuse me!" I said, breaking into a jog.
He glanced over at me and waited.
"What can I do for you?"
"Hi," I said, surprised I wasn't completely out of breath. Exercise really wasn't my thing. "My name's Tilly Bordeaux with the Tri-Town Times. I'm looking for Darryl Hill."
"That's me," he said, his brow furrowing in curiosity. "What’s this about?"
I pegged him to be in his forties, tall, and so bald, except for the black mustache, I wondered if he'd ever had hair. "I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about Jake Martinez and his restaurant."
He pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. I could feel the anger simmering just beneath the surface. "What about him?"
"I assume you know he's dead?"
A slow smile spread across his face. "Oh, yeah. I think I read about it... last week or so?"
"Yes."
"Best day of my life."
I nodded, fully understanding his joy. "I heard what he did to you."
"Put me right out of business," Darryl grumbled, pointing at the restaurant. "Had me shut down."
"Yes, I know."
"As far as I'm concerned, the jerk got what was coming to him."
"I've been hearing that a lot."
"Who drowns a rat because he can't handle the competition?" Darryl said, shaking his head. "Disgusting behavior."
"Did he admit he did that?" I asked.
"Oh, yeah. I confronted him about it. He fully copped to it without saying a word."
"And how did he do that?"
"He laughed. Just laughed like destroying a man's livelihood was the funniest thing he'd ever done. He was guilty."
A burst of wind blew, and I thought I felt a couple of raindrops fall from the gray sky as my hair whipped my face. "I looked at your Facebook page, Mr. Hill. There were so many negative comments from José. Why didn't you block him, or delete them?"
"Oh, believe me, I tried," Darryl replied. "At first, I had no idea who he was, but after asking around a bit, I figured out he worked for Jake. It seemed like I couldn't delete his comments fast enough. Couldn't figure out how to block him, though. I'm not real good with the computer, and that social media... well, I think it’s just stupid."
"Why did you have an account then?"
"One of my servers said I needed one to get the word out about the restaurant."
"I see."
Social media had become an intricate part of most people’s lives.
"Why are you asking me about Jake and his restaurant?" Darryl asked.
Now came the tricky part. I didn't want to make it seem as if I was accusing him of murder, but I had to get a read on his threat. Had it been empty, or had he meant it?
"Jake's daughter, Sophia, told me you threatened to kill Jake."
"I sure did."
"Well, he was murdered."
"Can't say I'm sorry to hear that. Are you asking me if I did it?"
I shrugged and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. "It crossed my mind."
Darryl laughed and shook his head. "I didn't kill Jake. I would have liked to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze the life out of him after what he pull
ed, but I never did."
Did I believe him? As I studied his face, I thought I saw truth there, but I couldn't be sure. Was he admitting to the threat, but trying to cover up the crime?
"Are you going to open up your restaurant again?" I asked.
"Maybe. Haven't decided. Don't know if the state will even allow me to."
I glanced over at the building again, feeling bad for the man. "Well, if you do, give the Tri-Town Times a call. I'd be more than happy to write up a piece on you for the paper."
His smile widened and his face softened as if he'd just met the kindest person alive. "That's nice of you. What did you say your name was again?"
"Tilly. Tilly Bordeaux."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Take care, Mr. Hill," I said over my shoulder as I walked away. Derek’s good nature seemed to be rubbing off on me. Not that I’d been a mean and nasty woman before, but I’d lost a lot of faith in humanity when Tommy left. Doing nice things for others felt really good.
When I opened the car door, the papers flew around inside the cab. I glanced at the building and noted a small dumpster by the side of it. Might as well take care of my garbage problem now instead of waiting until I got back to Oak Peak.
I grabbed the papers and walked over to the dumpster. When I lifted the lid, I noted two containers marked Rat Poison.
I stared at them a second and memorized the brand, then threw in the papers and shut the lid.
Interesting.
Jake had been poisoned, but I didn't know what the substance had been. Darryl Hill had two containers of poison, but he'd also thought he had a rat problem, so they could have been purchased to deal with that. It was something to keep in mind moving forward, especially if I could find out what type of poison the murderer had used.
I pushed opened the lid again, glanced around the empty parking lot, then pulled out my phone and quickly snapped a few pictures of the bottles. When I got those, I stepped back and took a few shots of the dumpster and finally, the front of the building with the dumpster visible in the frame.
Regardless of his claims of innocence, Darryl Hill had motive, and I might have discovered the weapon.