“I see. But why did that make you think it would belong to me?”
“We were informed that you owned a similar item. Do you deny that’s true?” Whatever response he had been expecting—weeping, a full confession—Lennox hadn’t gotten it, and it clearly unnerved him. Derek hadn’t said a word through the entire exchange; he was taking notes, and while his face remained neutral, the rest of him seemed to be engaged in a full-body cringe.
“Of course I don’t deny it, I just told you I own one. And no, to answer your next question, I don’t know where it is. I stopped using it a while ago after it kept telling me I’d reached ten thousand steps while I was in the car.”
“So you don’t have it around,” Lennox said. “But I’m guessing you could connect this to your computer and tell us if it’s yours or not, right?”
“That is technically possible,” Claudia said carefully. “But I think you would need to provide a warrant before I agreed to do it.”
“So you admit that it’s evidence?” Lennox puffed out his cheeks and began playing with the zippers on his jacket again, a tic Claudia was beginning to recognize as a sign that the chief felt like he was losing control of the situation. She wasn’t sure if the right move was to try to reassure him, or press her advantage, so she went with her natural inclination.
“I’m not admitting anything,” Claudia replied. “But I believe there’s a procedure for this sort of thing.”
“Okay, so for now maybe we can say that it might be yours,” Derek offered, verbally placing himself between them. “If it was, how do you think it might have ended up where it was found?”
Claudia willed herself to respond calmly.
“How it ended up in the marketplace is easy. With the amount of time I spend there, and how little space I have here, pretty much everything but my underwear has shown up there at some point. I don’t particularly remember when I used the tracker for the last time, but it’s possible it could have fallen off, or I got annoyed with it and took it off and left it somewhere.”
“That’s all nice and simple” Lennox said. “But how does it get from there to under the victim’s dead body?”
Claudia threw up her hands.
“Maybe it was on the floor and it got caught under her when the killer was dragging her around. Maybe it got kicked into that corner some other time and she just ended up on top of it. Maybe Lori found it when she was getting her stuff and thought ‘hey, free fitness tracker.’ I don’t know how it got there, but it wasn’t because of me.”
This seemed to be a good time to bring up another thing she had learned recently.
“Look.” She held out her bare arms so they could see they were completely unmarked. “Lori probably had three inches and at least twenty pounds on me. How do you think I would have been able to strangle her without her fighting at all?”
“By hitting her in the head with a big jar of pickles.” There were probably reasons why Lennox wasn’t supposed to tell her that, but over the course of Claudia’s diatribe he had been growing increasingly agitated, and as soon as he said it, he stood up a little straighter and his hand moved away from his jacket zipper.
“Somebody hit her with the pickle jar? But that thing weighs a ton,” Claudia said.
“And how would you know that?” Lennox pounced immediately, but Claudia was having none of it.
“Because I spent an entire afternoon helping Helen move it around the booth when she was deciding where to put it. Which, in case you were wondering, is why my fingerprints can be found pretty much everywhere on it. And my handprints, and I think my forehead print, from when she wanted to have it on top of the refrigerator.”
That image had the effect of putting a momentary stop to the conversation. The three of them remained there in a tableau: Lennox standing in the middle of the room, still holding the bag with the fitness tracker and looking like someone who was having things not go the way he had expected, Derek leaning against the couch, attending to his new job of chief dog-scratcher, and Claudia, with her back to the wall, exasperated and hoping neither of the men could tell how scared she was. (She assumed Teddy could smell it.)
“Well,” Lennox said at last. “I guess that answers all the questions we have for now. I don’t think I need to tell you not to leave town?”
“You can if you want to,” Claudia said, letting her mouth get ahead of her brain again. She would have asked her better nature how to handle the situation more appropriately, but it was just swearing and suggesting further insults, so she was about to double down on the attitude when she saw Derek’s expression and decided to soften her approach. “But no, I’m not planning to go anywhere. If you have anything else you want to show me or ask me, you can find me right here.”
As conciliatory speeches went, there had been better, but at least it managed to take the temperature in the room down far enough for Lennox to harrumph his way through an exit. Claudia didn’t think this was a good time to ask about reopening the marketplace, but at least there was a little smile from Derek on his way out. These days, she’d take what she could get.
Once she was sure they were gone, Claudia collapsed on the couch and considered her situation. She hadn’t thought it could get worse, but here she was. Lennox might have only had her on his suspect list out of convenience before, but now she had the sense she had been shoved right to the top. And having earned the spot on such a shaky piece of evidence suggested that he didn’t have a lot of other options.
And it wasn’t the only problem. Her explanations for how the fitness tracker ended up under the body were perfectly plausible; the issue was that Claudia didn’t believe them. As lazy as she was about her personal space, she was fanatical about keeping the marketplace tidy, and there was no way she would have just taken the tracker off and left it lying around where it could get picked up or kicked around the floor. If she had left it anywhere, it would have been in her office, but she couldn’t think of an innocent way it could have made its way from there to where it was found.
On the other hand, the office door was rarely locked. If a person was looking for a small object that might have fallen off someone while they were in the process of killing a person, in order to plant it on the body, it would probably be the first place they would check.
Until now, Claudia had been thinking of the murder in terms of Lori, her life and the things she didn’t know about her. If pressed, she might have said that she expected there to be some unknown outsider, who would prove to have turned up in town specifically for the purpose of killing her, and then escaped to somewhere he or she could be found and arrested later. The possibility of it being someone she knew had been in the back of her mind, and Claudia wished it had stayed there.
Because if the killer had framed her, that meant it was someone who knew her, probably someone who knew her well. And if that was the case, then what had been a critical, but abstract question suddenly became urgently, terrifyingly, personal.
CHAPTER TEN
Claudia got up and began pacing around the room. It felt even smaller than usual; like a tomb with a sofa. What she needed right now was some fresh air, with a side of distraction. For someone who lived by the ocean, Claudia spent surprisingly little time at the beach, and this seemed like a good chance to correct that. She was looking for her summer sweatshirt when her computer dinged with an incoming email. It was from a local mailing list, written by her unfriendly neighbor from up the hill, Nathan Rodgers, with the subject line, “Irresponsible Business Owners Bringing Crime to Our Neighborhood.”
Claudia closed the laptop and picked up the new leash she had bought.
“Come on,” she said to Teddy. “Let’s get out of here.”
There were only a couple of beaches nearby that allowed dogs, and neither was likely to be crowded on a weekday morning, even in the summer. Claudia chose the closer one, having discovered the Teddy would ride comfortably in the front seat of her hatchback, but not wanting to press her luck. She parked in
the lot and let Teddy lead the way.
Most of the beaches on this stretch of coast were tucked away in rocky coves, but here, where a freshwater creek flowed into the ocean, there was a rare stretch of flat sand. Like all the beaches in the area, it was a public park, so the amenities were limited to a sandy parking lot and a small building housing some questionable bathrooms, and the decorative features were represented by signs detailing which types of wildlife you were least allowed to interfere with.
A row of dunes, loosely covered with clumps of sturdy grass, separated the parking lot from the beach, where spindly-legged shorebirds picked their way along the water line and gulls argued and eyed everything with suspicion. There were a handful of other people, flying kites or walking along the edge of the surf with their hands in the pockets of their fleece sweaters. It was a typical August morning, with the sun just starting to burn off the fog as noon approached.
The waves rolled in, cold and green, and further up the beach Claudia could see some intrepid surfers paddling out to meet them. They did look a bit like seals in their wetsuits, and she thought she could understand how the local great white sharks sometimes got confused.
There didn’t seem to be any sharks around today, at least as far as Claudia could see, but she still called Teddy back when it looked like she was thinking about going for a swim. Oceangoing predators aside, she had not come prepared to take home a wet dog.
If Teddy was disappointed by this limit on her freedom, she didn’t show it. Within a few minutes she had found a piece of driftwood, which she very much wanted Claudia to throw for her, but she also did not want to give it up, leading to an existential crisis and a brief tug-of-war. Claudia solved the problem by finding another piece, which immediately became more interesting than the first one, starting a stick-tossing relay.
They headed down the beach that way, Teddy chasing, fetching, dropping, and chasing, and Claudia trying to participate without getting too much dog spit and sand on her hands while she thought about life and its alternatives.
Up until that morning, she had been operating on the assumption that her status as chief suspect was nothing more than bad luck. Somebody had to be the last person to have seen Lori, and given the circumstances, it was likely to be her. That their last encounter had been a fight was unfortunate, but unrelated; these things just happened. But the way the fitness tracker had turned up had put a different complexion on the matter.
What if it had been a setup from the beginning? The printouts left for her intentionally, so that she would have no choice but to confront Lori that evening? Had the whole situation been stage-managed, down to the stink bombs in Lori’s purse that were supposed to have made Claudia mad enough to kill? Was there someone else who would have been an obvious suspect if the police didn’t already have one in hand?
Or an unobvious one, even. If the killer was worried that the police would come up with a connection between himself (or herself) and Lori if they looked too closely at her life, the best thing he or she could hope for is that they would be looking somewhere else. And whoever that was, they had to know enough about Claudia and the marketplace to set up the situation, and to know where to find a small personal item of hers to complete the picture.
It was an uncomfortable thought, and as the wind off the ocean whipped her hair into her mouth, Claudia tried to think her way out of it.
There were six stalls in the marketplace, and in theory all of the tenants and their employees had equal access to any part of it. In practice, it was a little more complicated, but not much. The rotating cast of young people who staffed the vegetable market rarely interacted with Claudia or the other vendors; they were generally too busy in their various internal dramas to pay much attention to the adults around them. Orlan Martinez, the owner, had several other locations to manage, and on the rare occasions he was in the marketplace he spent most of his time dealing with faulty refrigerators or questions of optimal produce display. She couldn’t say for certain, but Claudia’s sense was that Lori had ranked in his awareness somewhere below beets.
So who else was there? Could Elias have been so insulted by Lori’s abuse of the art of cheesemaking that he took it on himself to defend the honor of his milk? Might Robbie have a secret in his past that Lori was threatening to reveal unless he signed over ownership of his farm to her? Or should Claudia stop making jokes and take the question seriously?
She didn’t want to.
If she was right, and the murderer had planted the printouts and fitness tracker to frame her, then they must have planned it in advance. That meant someone who not only coldly set out to kill Lori, but who didn’t mind bringing Claudia down as well. That was an uncomfortable thought, almost more than the violence. With some imagination, Claudia could come up with situations that might drive one of these people she liked and respected to feel like killing Lori was their only option, but her? What could she possibly have done to deserve this?
It was a moment of appalling self-obsession, but Claudia decided to allow it. She needed the anger. Without it, all she had left was fear.
So, who might have had reason to hate Lori? There was only one incident she could think of, which hadn’t seemed like much at the time. Claudia had gone away for a few days, about a month after Lori had opened her stall. When she had gotten back, she had noticed a distinct coolness in the atmosphere that had nothing to do with the marine layer. Some discrete questioning had turned up the information that something had happened between Helen and Lori one morning before anyone else had gotten there. But Claudia had had no luck learning the source of the conflict, and ultimately decided that since they were both adults, as long as they weren’t disrupting the business they could work it out between themselves. And she had assumed they must have, because it didn’t come up again.
Or had it? Revenge might be a dish best served cold, but maybe Helen thought it could be improved with a cheese wire and side of pickles.
Or maybe Claudia was grasping at straws, because she was unable to deal with the idea that a person she liked and respected might have killed a woman and tried to frame her for it. Either way, she wasn’t getting anywhere walking on this beach, throwing sticks and beating herself up over what she didn’t know. What she needed right now was someone who would offer her a sympathetic ear, and some lunch.
“And you’re sure it was your fitness tracker? Oh, Claudia, that’s not good.”
“It’s not? And here I was thinking this was the thing that finally turned my week around.”
The look Betty gave her made it clear that Claudia’s sarcasm was not appreciated. Claudia was undeterred.
“Not sure I should have told you that, though. If the police chief asks, you never met me.”
“Claudia, there are so many things you shouldn’t have done, I don’t know if that one even makes the list.”
Betty tossed the brush she had been using back into the plastic bucket and picked up a curry comb. Claudia had found her bringing in one of the horses they used for trail rides, and followed to the barn as Betty had explained that one of the guides thought he was coming up lame, though it was her personal opinion that he (the horse) was faking it to get out of work. But she needed to check him to be sure, which was why he was getting prepped for a ride now.
Claudia picked up a second curry comb and talked while she brushed.
“Anyway, there’s nothing I can do about it now. Lennox has the thing, and as far as I can tell, that’s all he needed to be sure I’m running a business in local, artisanal murder. Not sure what I can do to change his mind, other than finding the actual killer, but I’m open to suggestions.”
“Are you sure you couldn’t have left it there on the floor?” Claudia was starting to wonder if telling Betty everything had been a mistake. Not that she didn’t trust her friend, but the amount of worrying she was doing was making Claudia nervous.
“I can’t be positive, but it doesn’t seem like something I’d do. But there must be a good reason fo
r how it got there.”
“A reason like someone trying to frame you.” Betty finished currying the horse’s haunches and worked her way back up to his shoulder. “Have you thought about getting out of town? You must have some friends back in the city who could put you up for a while.”
“And have Lennox come after me with a posse? No thanks. Besides, I have a business to run, sort of. What’s going to happen to my vendors if I cut and run?
Betty sighed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so stubborn who wasn’t a horse.” She handed Claudia the curry comb and pointed to the bucket. “If you really want to be helpful, why don’t you put these away and hand me the pick.”
“The what?”
“That metal thing that looks like a number seven.”
“Okay, got it.” Claudia’s previous experience with horses had been limited to childhood pony rides and one unfortunate experience on a Grand Canyon tour. (Though, now that she thought back, it might have been a mule.) So it always amazed her how at home Betty was with what were, to Claudia’s mind at least, large and intimidating animals that may at any minute stick their nose in your pocket to see if you had any apples.
With Betty, though, they always seemed to know exactly who was in charge, and as she leaned down and patted the horse’s front leg, it obliging lifted it up, allowing her to start scraping the hoof with the pick.
“Speaking of bad decisions,” she said as she dislodged a rock. “What do you think you’re doing with this Derek guy?”
“Trying not to get arrested by him,” Claudia said, unconvincingly.
Betty was not convinced.
“That’s not what it sounds like to me. Just because a guy is good-looking and nice to your dog is no reason to go and fall for him.”
“Can you think of any better ones? Seriously, though, do you know anything about him?”
“Well, I—Oof, back off, knothead,” she said, as the horse shifted so it could more comfortably rest its weight on her shoulder. Betty shoved back and he straightened up again, huffing in an irritated way. “I met him last spring when we were dealing with some kids riding four-wheelers in the pastures. He seemed nice enough, but he got kind of annoyed when he found out Roy had caught one of them and locked up his bike. Maybe next time I’ll use your name and get better service.”
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