Murder by Page One

by Olivia Matthews

  Angry car horns carried through the speaker phone. Had someone double-parked down their street again? “I don’t have—”

  This time, my dad interrupted me. “We’ve been following the case through The Peach Coast Crier.”

  Had I heard them correctly? “You’ve been reading the Crier?”

  “We bought an online subscription.” My mother sounded like subscribing to the small town’s newspaper was completely normal. To her, it probably was.

  “Okay, Mom and Dad.” I rose from my desk chair to pace my office. “I really appreciate your calling to check on me, but let’s take a breath.”

  I pictured them sitting together in their warm gold and pale brown foyer. The room was in the front of their two-hundred-plus-year-old home. There were windows on two sides of the room, which during the day flooded the space with light.

  “How can we take a breath?” Beneath my mother’s tense question, a siren blared. Briefly, I wondered whether it was an ambulance. It didn’t sound like a police car or a fire truck. “How can we relax when our daughter’s in danger? There’s a murderer running around loose in your town.”

  Seriously? “There are murderers running around loose in Brooklyn.” My tone was dry.

  “The difference is you were minutes away from us when you lived in Brooklyn.” Dad sounded defensive. “Now you’re several hours and hundreds of miles away. It wouldn’t be as easy or quick to jump in the car and go to you if you need us.”

  I acknowledged his point. “About thirteen hours and thirty-five minutes. It’s a nine-hundred-seven-point-four-mile trip approximately.”

  “That’s our point,” Mom said. “We thought you’d be safer in a small town. Maybe we were wrong. The odds may be that you’re less safe in a town of fewer than one thousand people versus a borough with more than two-and-a-half-million residents.”

  How many more times would we have the “personal safety” discussion?

  Shaking my head, I scooped up Phoenix and carried him back down to our living room. The wood flooring was warm beneath my bare feet. The sun had set hours ago. I lowered him to the floor and returned my attention to my parents.

  “I wish you wouldn’t worry. As soon as the deputies know more about the murder and the investigation, I promise to call you.” This wouldn’t be a good time to tell my parents that I also was working on the case. In fact, there probably would never be a good time to share that with them.

  Mom’s voice was tight with anxiety. “You have to promise us you’ll be very careful.”

  “I promise.” More guilt. “And I do have the home security system with motion-sensing lights outside. Phoenix and I will be fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Has Phoenix gotten used to the new place yet?” Dad asked.

  I glanced toward the foyer. My cat had once again settled in front of the French doors. “Not yet. He’s being very quiet, almost lethargic. He’s just not himself. The first vet said this was normal, but I don’t know. I have an appointment in three days with a new vet for a second opinion.”

  After a few more minutes of chatting with my parents, I wished them both a good night. Collecting Phoenix and his bed from beside the backdoor, I carried both upstairs. “Let’s see if it helps you to sleep in my room.”

  Phoenix looked at me, then looked away. I sensed an eye roll in his response. At least he was responding.

  Chapter 15

  Suddenly, I was wide awake. Why? The clock read two in the morning. What had awakened me? I lay still and scanned my bedroom. Every visible surface. Every shadowed corner. Nothing. I was alone. Well, except for Phoenix who, forsaking his bed, lay snoring softly on the pillow beside me.

  What had—

  There it was!

  The motion sensor flooded my backyard with light. Someone was sneaking around outside my home. My blood turned to ice. My heart sprang into my throat. And stayed there. For a second, I was too afraid to breathe, too afraid to move.

  And then I couldn’t move fast enough.

  I scooped Phoenix from the spare pillow and scrambled out of bed. Startled awake, he drove his claws into my chest. I ignored the pain as I crept to the bedroom’s rear windows. I felt bad for scaring him, but I needed to keep him close. I needed to keep him safe.

  What if someone was trying to break in?

  I peeked through the cream venetian blinds. My backyard seemed empty. I froze, straining to listen. No unidentifiable movements. Then the lights at the left side yard came on. Through the rear windows, I could see the lights illuminating the lawn.

  When the rear lights came back on, I tightened my grip on Phoenix. Was the trespasser circling my house? Why? What did they want? My cat squirmed in my arms. Could he hear my heart racing? I kissed the top of his head and murmured nonsense, trying to calm him. Trying to calm myself.

  I crept toward my front windows. Along the way, I grabbed my cell phone. With my right thumb, I dialed emergency services. I pressed Phoenix to my heart with my left.

  “Nine one one. What’s your emergency?” The dispatcher sounded so loud.

  “I think someone’s trying to get into my house.” I peeked out my front windows. I gasped as the motion-sensor lights blinked on.

  Someone was there. Where? In the bushes? Beneath my eaves? On my porch? Why did they keep circling my home?

  Moving stealthily through my house, I checked the doors and windows. The dispatcher bombarded me with questions. I answered just as quickly. My motion sensor lights. Started a few minutes ago. Phoenix and I were alone. My address.

  My need for them to hurry.

  Thankfully, they did.

  Patrol cars with their flashing lights pulled up in front of my house before I’d thanked the dispatcher and disconnected the call. I opened the door to the deputies—and found Jed and Errol on my porch.

  “Ms. Harris.” Jed inclined his head in greeting. “Everything all right in there?”

  “Yes.” The word emerged on a sigh of relief. Despite my previous tense encounters with the deputy duo, their presence instantly made me feel safer.

  Jed’s eyes searched mine as though looking for confirmation that the intruders weren’t inside, threatening me. He must’ve found that confirmation. “All right, now. Cole and I are going to search your property. We’ll be right back, so y’all stay inside for now.”

  Phoenix and I remained on the porch, less than an arm’s length from the doorway. I held him tightly, murmuring soft words and stroking him, giving as well as receiving comfort. A dusting of stars blanketed the sky. A cool breeze carried the earthy scent of the swamp. And somewhere nearby, an intruder lurked.

  Since I remained outside, my motion-detection light stayed on, illuminating the front of my property to the sidewalk. The New Yorker in me remained vigilant in the event the intruder somehow made it past the deputies and into my home. My gaze swept the perimeter from my right side yard, the walkway in front of me, my left side yard, and my—hopefully empty—living room behind me.

  The deputies returned. Jed turned off his flashlight as he climbed the three steps to my porch. “Well, now, Ms. Harris, we didn’t see anyone loitering around your yard.”

  Errol stopped beside him. “Are you sure someone was out here?” As he spoke, he looked around as though double checking that we were alone.

  “Yes, I’m certain. Their movements activated the motion lights.” I was reluctant to let go of Phoenix. It had been a disquieting experience, and my poor cat had been through enough with the move.

  “Probably just some teenagers. They tripped your lights, walking past your house.” Jed adjusted the waistband of his polyester brown stripe pants.

  “Walking past my house at two in the morning? On a school night?” It was only Wednesday. That didn’t seem logical. Even in my old neighborhood in Brooklyn, teenagers weren’t out that late on a school night. And Peach Coast was a much
quieter—and older—community.

  “It could happen.” The older deputy seemed defensive.

  Errol lifted his attention from Phoenix. “Did your cat get out?”

  “No, he was asleep.” I looked from Phoenix back to Jed. “The noises didn’t sound like a group of kids. And whoever it was walked the perimeter more than once. He activated the lights on at least three sides of my house, not just the front. His actions seemed deliberate.”

  My attention shifted to the sidewalk, searching beyond the light to the shadows on the other side. The trespasser had wanted me to know he’d been out here in the early hours of the morning, casing my home while Phoenix and I had slept. I was sure of it. A chill chased down my spine.

  Jed rubbed his upper lip. “Like I said, it was probably a couple of kids, playing a prank.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Kids playing pranks at two in the morning? Does that happen a lot in Peach Coast?”

  “Well, no, ma’am.” Errol gave me a puzzled frown.

  “Then why are you so sure it happened this time?” I looked from Errol to Jed. Errol seemed confused, as though he didn’t understand why I wasn’t buying their explanation. Jed gave me a stony stare. Apparently, that was his story, and he was sticking to it. They were determined to dismiss the incident as the work of adolescent jokers.

  I looked over my shoulder and up and down the street. No one was out now. My neighbors were all asleep. Maybe I was making too much of this. Maybe my conversation with my parents had unnerved me more than I’d thought it had. I wanted to believe the deputies because the alternative—my theory—wouldn’t allow me to go back to sleep.

  I eased my hold on Phoenix. “I appreciate you coming out to investigate.”

  Jed inclined his head. “You’re welcome.”

  Errol’s smile revealed even white teeth. “Our pleasure, ma’am.”

  “Why were you the ones who answered the call?” I glanced from Jed to Errol and back. “I thought you worked the day shift.”

  “Our shifts rotate.” Jed shrugged. “Nothing changes much in Peach Coast, but no two days are the same for us. Is there anything else we can do for you, ma’am?”

  “No, thank you.” I shifted closer to my door. “Thanks again for coming out.”

  Jed turned to leave. “You’re welcome. Again.”

  Errol tipped his hat. “Try to get some sleep, ma’am.”

  “Thank you. Be safe out there.” I carried Phoenix back inside, locking the door securely behind me. “Maybe the deputies are right.” I mounted the stairs back to my room. “It seems odd, but maybe it was just kids cutting through our yard. At two in the morning. On a school night.” I settled Phoenix back onto the pillow where he’d been sleeping. “Whatever it was, let’s keep this incident between us. No need to mention it to your grandparents. Okay?”

  Phoenix curled up and went back to sleep. I took his silence as agreement and crawled into bed beside him. I didn’t think I’d actually sleep, though. A glance at the alarm clock beside my bed showed that the entire event had taken less than half an hour. It had seemed like half the night.

  While Phoenix slept, I stared at the ceiling. In the morning, after my run, I’d survey the perimeter of my house myself. Perhaps the trespasser had left behind marks or evidence that he’d been on my property, footprints or shifted potted plants. The more I thought about it, the more I discredited the theory of the meddlesome kids.

  I believed the incident was something much more sinister. I believed someone had been trying to intimidate me by deliberately activating my security lights, knowing they’d wake me.

  I believed tonight’s visit had been a not-so-subtle threat.

  Coming up empty after walking the perimeter of my house Wednesday morning for signs of an intruder hadn’t reassured me. I was out of sorts after the early morning scare and the deputies’ flippant attitude in response to my emergency.

  Anna May’s warm welcome as I purchased my usual from On A Roll helped settle my nerves. Hopefully, my doctored café mocha and Floyd’s pleased expression—“pleased” was a relative term for the grumpy old guy—when he saw the peach cobbler would further lift my spirits.

  As I neared the exit, I finally registered the oddly familiar reaction of several other early morning customers. Just as on Monday, a handful of them kept shooting furtive and unsubtle glances across the dining area. Following the direction of their interest, I spotted Willy seated at the same front table. He was with Bobby Hayes. The two appeared to be in the middle of a heated exchange. Interesting.

  Like the other café regulars, I wanted to listen in on their argument, but I was too far to hear anything over the competing sounds of conversations, laughter, and espresso machines. Anna May’s café opened early and filled fast. Most of the tables were occupied. The customers who weren’t focused on Willy and Bobby were reading, chatting with friends or family, working on laptops or tablets, or sitting alone people watching.

  As I maneuvered closer to Willy and Bobby’s table, I noticed a narrow coffee station that offered napkins, stirrers, various packets of sugar, creamers, and other coffee and tea additives. I pounced on it. Standing in profile to the two men, I forced myself to appear casual and aloof. I first pretended to go through my carryout bag, which had only the one small box of peach cobbler. Then I examined my café mocha with extra espresso—which was already sweet enough. I plucked a few napkins from their holder to do I-didn’t-know-what with.

  Although I strained to tune out other sounds, I still couldn’t decipher their dispute. I could only hear their tightly controlled, angry voices as they threw words at each other. Waves of hostility rose from their table. Their body language was combative. Fingers jabbed the air between them. Arms flew up and out like overly dramatic band conductors.

  Seconds after I’d settled into my performance at the coffee station, Bobby surged from his seat and stormed out of On A Roll. He walked right past me. His strides were so quick, they generated a breeze that ruffled the napkins beside me. What had their argument been about? Could it impact the deputies’ case against Jo?

  Squaring my shoulders, I approached Willy. “Good morning.”

  He gave me a polite smile as he briefly rose to his feet. Tension shimmered around him. Angry color marred his pale cheekbones. “Good morning, Marvey. How are you?”

  “I should be asking you that question.” I studied him with concern. His eyes were shadowed and bracketed by dark circles. Like me, he must not have gotten much sleep last night. But whereas nerves had pulled me from bed early, I suspected grief was the reason for his restless night.

  Willy gestured toward the spare seat at his table, the one Bobby had just vacated. “Do you have time to join me, or do you have to get to work?”

  His change of subject didn’t escape me. I decided not to push him. Yet.

  I checked my watch before sitting. “I have a few minutes. Is that your breakfast?”

  The white porcelain mug he embraced with both hands looked like it contained regular black coffee. Anna May must’ve been disappointed. She loved making the fancier drinks.

  Willy shoved his broad hand through his thick hair. “I’m not very hungry.”

  I sat back on my chair, aware of the frequent and furtive attention we drew. “How long will you be in Peach Coast? You must be anxious to return home.” Back to people who could be supportive as he grieved. Being here couldn’t be helping him process Fiona’s death, especially if he had to endure scenes like the one I’d witnessed between him and Bobby.

  “The sooner, the better.” Willy’s knuckles turned white as his hands tightened around his mug. “But I want to do whatever I can to help the deputies catch Fiona’s killer first.”

  “Of course. I’m so sorry.” I felt bad that I may have upset him, but his response triggered another question in my mind. What had Willy given the deputies as his alibi? Granted,
they didn’t require much, unless your name was Jo. Betty had been cleaning. Bobby had been watching TV.

  Willy claimed he’d driven his own car straight to To Be Read, and hadn’t arrived until shortly after four PM. Had the deputies found a way to verify that? Note to self: Ask Spence to verify the time Willy had checked into the Peach Coast Inn. The hotel was one of his family’s many holdings.

  “I don’t know how much help I can be to the deputies.” Willy looked around the café as he drank his coffee. Did he notice the attention we were getting? “I reckon there’s a whole town full of suspects they can pick from. But they don’t seem to think their investigation will take long.”

  Was that because they were only focusing on one suspect, Jo—who, by the way, was innocent?

  Frustrated, I turned my attention to the scene outside of the window beside us. The sky was a blinding shade of blue. A few old live oaks, Georgia’s state tree, flourished along the sidewalk.

  Turning back to Willy, I sipped my mocha. The creamy, sweet, caffeinated drink sent a jolt through my system. A couple more sips, and I just might wake up. “I’d think the deputies would appreciate having you here. It must be helpful to their investigation to have the insights of someone who knew Fiona well and cared about her.”

  “People who cared about her are definitely in short supply around here. That’s one of the reasons I’m making arrangements to have Fiona’s body sent back to Beaufort. I think she would’ve wanted to be laid to rest with family.”

  I blinked. “Wouldn’t Fiona want to be buried beside Buddy? He was her family.”

  Willy’s features tightened. Storm clouds gathered in his piercing gray eyes. “Was he? He surely didn’t act like it.”

  “Because he didn’t defend her against Betty’s malicious gossip, you mean?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.” Anger flashed in his eyes like bolts of lightning.

  “Then why didn’t Fiona leave him?”

  “She should have.”