Bound to Execute

by ACF Bookens

  I stared out at the dusky purple settling into night around the truck. Cate was an amazing person, but she was also a huge personality. One afternoon, when we were at a mall in Delaware, she was in a silly mood, so she got up onto a table and shouted, “May I have your attention, please? May I have your attention?” Gradually, the entire food court went silent as this small woman stood on a wobbly table outside the Panda Express. Then, she looked out, grinned, and said, “Thanks. I just wanted a little attention.”

  I had wanted to bury myself in fried rice, but the shoppers loved it . . . and Cate loved their adoration.

  So if I told her that I didn’t think Henri was guilty, especially if I couldn’t effectively communicate that this was still a secret, an important secret, I was afraid word would get out, simply because of her massive relief. I sighed.

  Across the car, Daniel was very quiet.

  “Right? That makes sense, doesn’t it? Not to tell them tonight since Cate will be there?”

  Still more silence.

  “Or are you saying that I shouldn’t tell them at all?” I had this tendency to spiral when I thought someone was judging me, especially if that someone was a person I cared a great deal about. Within the span of three seconds, I can decide that they think I’m a horrible person and that they can’t believe they ever wanted to spend time with me. “You think I’m making a mistake, don’t you?”

  Daniel reached across the bench seat and took my hand. “No, Harvey. I think it’s good to tell everyone, even if only because it eases your conscience. I was just pondering whether or not you should go ahead and tell Cate and Lucas, too. What if she’s hurt that you told all of us but not her?”

  He had a point. A good point, but I still couldn’t shake my concern about Cate’s ability to keep a secret when it would mean less suffering for her friend . . . although Henri was in the know, so maybe if I explained that . . .

  I watched the white line on the side of the road begin to shimmer in my headlights, and I took a deep breath. “Okay, tonight. I’ll tell everyone.”

  “Good. I think that’s a good choice,” Daniel said as he gave my hand a little squeeze.

  We rode in silence the rest of the way to Stephen and Walter’s amazing house, and with each mile, I felt better, more buoyant. I ran through my mini-speech in my head, and by the time I pulled off the highway into their long drive, I was ready. Once everyone had a bottle of beer or a glass of wine, I’d make my announcement and watch relief pass over Cate’s face.

  After I parked, Daniel lifted both dogs down to spare their legs, and I grabbed the banana pudding I’d made. Then, we climbed the steps toward the front door and rang the bell.

  Everyone was in high spirits, and the large open living space was charged with fun and laughter. Our dogs took off to hunt down Sasquatch and Sidecar, and I headed in to find that beer Stephen had picked up while Daniel got waylaid to talk ball bearings or something with my dad by the door.

  I was still running through what I was going to say as I rounded the corner into the kitchen and almost ran into someone. I stepped back and smiled into the face of Cynthia, the bank teller, and my entire speech turned to ash in my mouth.

  6

  “Hi Harvey,” Cynthia said with a broad, white smile. Her hair was in twisted braids on top of her head, and she looked wonderful. I would have looked like an aged Heidi of the goat herders.

  “Oh, hi Cynthia. Good to see you.” I glanced past her toward the six-pack of Starr Hill Love beer that I could see behind her. “Would you mind grabbing me one of those?”

  “Definitely. That beer is so good.”

  I glanced at the Natty Bo can in her hand and smiled.

  “This beer is not good. Not at all, but it tastes like home to me, so . . .”

  “You’re from Baltimore?” National Bohemian Beer was the unofficial beer of Baltimore City. The mascot, Mr. Natty Bo himself with his huge handlebar moustache, stood over the factory and blinked in neon across the city day and night.

  “Yep. Grew up in Fells Point, before it was trendy.”

  I smiled again, at a loss for what to say for the second time in thirty seconds. Cynthia didn’t look old enough to have predated the fashionable upswing of Fell’s Point, but I didn’t think it polite to point that out. “Ah, I do love Fell’s Point.”

  “Me, too.” She sighed. “I miss it.” Her face flushed, and she flapped her free hand around. “Don’t get me wrong. I like it here, too. I just—“

  “Believe me, I understand. If you love the city, you just love it. St. Marin’s is not a city, and if you want restaurants that say open past nine or a movie theater or more than three blocks of shops, then this is not the town for you.” I touched her arm. “I moved here from San Francisco. I get it.”

  “You left San Francisco to come here?”

  I laughed. “I did, and for me, it was the best decision ever. But that doesn’t mean this is the right place for everyone. What brought you to St. Marin’s?

  “My job at the bank. It was a promotion, and I wanted a chance to save some money and maybe travel a bit.”

  I tucked away that little bit of info to consider later. “Do you like banking?”

  She crinkled her nose. “Not particularly. But I’m good with numbers. I got my degree in accounting at Maryland, but I didn’t take the CPA exam. I just couldn’t bear the pressure. So banking is a better fit.” She took a sip of her beer, and I saw her eyes scan the room. “Maybe it’ll be easier now,” she said quietly.

  “Ah, yes, I imagine Wilma was hard to work with.”

  “You have no idea. That woman would come in angry and start finding things to complain about – ink pens at the counters not tied down with those little silver ball strings, name plates not parallel to the front of the counter, someone’s hemline a little too short. By the time we opened, most of us just wanted to go back home.”

  I nodded and sipped my beer. One thing I knew was that when people felt like they had someone who would listen, they would often unload a lot, maybe more than they intended to.

  “This one day,” Cynthia continued, “Ariel was talking with a customer, and Wilma walked in, grabbed her by the arm, and literally dragged her into the lobby to berate her about her perfume. Wilma got headaches from perfume, and Ariel must have forgotten.” Another sip from her beer. “I thought Ariel might cry right there, but she held it together enough to finalize the loan paperwork. But later, I heard her crying in the bathroom.”

  Cynthia stopped and looked at me with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I just told you all that. You’re here to have fun with your friends, not hear about my work problems. And anyway, the problems will be done now, I hope.”

  I gave her a small smile. “Why didn’t you quit?”

  A flush of color passed up Cynthia’s neck, and she looked over my shoulder. When I turned to see what she was looking at, I saw Deputy Dillard, and he had the same rosy cheeks as Cynthia.

  I raised my chin and said, “I see you two know each other.” But I might as well have tried to communicate with them telepathically because they didn’t even glance at me. “Well, then, Cynthia, it was nice talking with you. Good to see you, Deputy.” I stared at them a second longer to see if they might snap out of their mutual admiration and respond, but nope. I headed off to find Daniel.

  He was still trapped with my dad, and when I sidled up and put my arm around him, he squeezed my shoulders really tight in the universal signal of “Get me out of here.” I looked at my dad and said, “Dad, Mart is thinking of investing in the winery. I think she could use your advice.” I looked over and caught the eye of my best friend who was standing in the doorway to the deck and mouthed, “I’m so sorry,” as my dad headed her way. Dad could not pass up a chance to give someone business advice. I just hoped Mart would forgive me.

  I tugged Daniel into the alcove by the staircase and said, “Cynthia from the bank is here. I don’t think I can tell everyone the truth just in case she’s
the murderer. Plus, Deputy Dillard is here. He wouldn’t take kindly to me blowing the plan.”

  “Ugh,” Daniel slumped against the wall. “I was looking forward to not having to avoid the topic, too.”

  I stretched up and kissed him. “I know. This is hard for all of us. I’m sorry.”

  He gave me a tight hug just as the front door opened beside us and the sheriff and Luisa walked in. I was pretty sure that she was carrying a tray of tamales, and I could feel my salivary glands come to life.

  “Hi,” I said as I hugged them both and then got right to business. “Are those your tamales?”

  “To grill over the bonfire. Walter wanted to try it.”

  “That is amazing,” I said and was again glad that I’d chosen beer for the night.

  “Have you seen him?” Lu asked.

  I scanned the room again. “Yep, over there by the grill.”

  “I’m going to take these out, Hon,” she said to Tuck over her shoulder. “Daniel, can you help me? I don’t know if I can do the deck stairs in these heels.” Her orange spikes definitely required some assistance.

  Daniel gave me a kiss on the cheek and then took the tray from Lu, leaving the sheriff and me standing in the foyer.

  “Harvey, I was hoping I’d find you here. How you been?”

  I put on my best “Good, good, how about you?” face and said, “Eh, I hate lying.”

  He nodded. “I know, but good news. We don’t have to lie anymore.”

  “You caught the murderer?”

  “No, not yet, but the diversion helped, and I think we’ll soon have the evidence we need.” He looked across at our gathered friends and I saw his eyes rest on Dillard and Cynthia. He frowned.

  “Those two are kind of too blonde and perfect for each other don’t you think?” I asked with a smile.

  “Excuse me,” he said and headed for the kitchen.

  I am a terrible person, so I walked right behind him, acting like I needed another beer. Mine was still two-thirds full. I was a slow drinker.

  From my not-so-surreptitious position beside the fridge, I heard Tuck say, “Dillard, may I have a word?”

  The deputy’s face turned a deep red as he apologized to Cynthia and followed the sheriff to the deck. Guilt raging but not slowing me down, I went as quickly as I could to the basement stairs, my second beer forgotten, where I knew I could step out on a patio below the deck to eavesdrop further.

  It was only when I threw open the door at the bottom of the steps that I remembered Ollie was living there. Okay, it was only when I saw the easels, TV, and futon with Ollie on it that I remembered. Talk about embarrassing.

  But I tried to play it off. “Hi Ollie. Didn’t see you at the barbecue and wanted to say hi.” I tried to look really friendly, especially since I’d just burst into his apartment without even knocking. “How are you?”

  Ollie, to his credit, either hid any negativity about my disrespect for his privacy or didn’t have any because he just stood up and gave a small wave. “Hi Ms. B.” He stretched an arm out beside him. “Welcome to my humble abode.” Then, he gave me a smile.

  I smiled back and dropped to the futon beside him with an oomph. Those things are low to the ground. He was watching something I recognized, but I couldn’t quite place it. So I turned toward him instead. “How are you liking it here?”

  He looked around the room. “It’s amazing. I can’t believe they are letting me live here for free.”

  “Yep. They’re pretty amazing.” I watched the TV for a few more seconds, trying to place the movie. “You know, you could come upstairs?”

  “Oh, I know,” he said. “Stephen and Walter invited me. But sometimes, well, sometimes I just need to be by myself. I get time with people a lot at work.”

  I could so relate to that. “I get it.” I followed his gaze back to the TV and when I saw a young Jason Alexander, I finally realized he was watching one of my all-time favorite movies. Anytime I need to be reminded of good in the world, I watched this film. “Wait, you’re watching Love! Valour! Compassion!? I love this movie.”

  He sat forward and looked from me to the screen. “Me, too. They’re all just such good friends.” His voice was quiet and a bit sad.

  “Yeah, they are.” I thought about my life at his age, about how I’d left most of my good friends from college as we set out on our own paths and how lonely I’d been. It had taken me until my late thirties to find good people, and it was only here, now, that I felt I had friends like those in the movie. “You’ll find your lake people, Ollie. You will.”

  He gave me a small smile and turned back to the screen. “I hope so.”

  I patted his shoulder and then pried myself up and out of the futon. “Thanks for letting me stop by.”

  Without looking away from the movie, he said, “You can go out the back door if you want to slip down to the water for some quiet time.”

  I chuckled. He’d known all along that I was headed out that way. “Thanks.” I walked carefully around the easels by the door, averting my eyes in case he didn’t want me to see his works in progress, and opened the French doors onto the patio.

  As soon as I stepped out, I could hear Tuck’s voice. It was quiet, but very intense. “You understand, Dillard? This cannot continue.”

  There was a moment of silence, and then I heard footsteps. I’d missed the good part, but part of me was relieved. If lying to my friends was bad, eavesdropping was somehow worse, and yet, here I was.

  I looked out over the creek behind my friends’ house and took a deep breath. Here, this close to the bay, even fresh water scented the air with salt, and while I was not a beach person in the suntan-lotion-and-wave-diving sense, I did love that smell. It soothed me.

  I decided to walk out onto the lawn and stroll. That alone time Ollie had mentioned sounded pretty great. But as soon as I walked out from beneath the deck, Tuck called to me. I turned and did my best to act surprised to see him there. “Oh, hey Tuck.” I knew I didn’t sound convincing, but he must have been too distracted by his conversation with Dillard to notice.

  “I just got a text from Henri. She and Bear are on their way, so I’m going to let everybody know she’s cleared. Thought you might want to be in here for that.” He gave me a forced smile.

  “Definitely. I’m on my way.” Stephen and Walter had become good friends with Henri and Bear because of their shared love of art, so I wasn’t surprised they were coming, especially since my friends had not for one second thought she was capable of murder. Oh, it was going to feel good to come clean.

  This time I walked up the stairs beside the house and came back in the front door. Daniel did a quick double-take from where he stood by the sofa, and I gave him a wink before I slid in next to him.

  I was particularly eager to hear whether or not the sheriff would announce that his investigation of Henri had been a complete ruse.

  “Friends, I’ve asked our hosts if I can make a quick announcement. Henri and Bear Johnson are on their way over, and before it got all awkward in here because I’m here and they are, too,” he smiled, and a nervous chuckle passed through my friends, “I wanted you to know that Henri is not the person who murdered Wilma Painter.”

  It felt like the whole room sighed, and I looked at Cate over by the deck in time to see relief cross her face like a wave of fresh air. She glanced at me then, and I winced. Her stare was still icy.

  Tuck must have caught the glare because I saw him follow Cate’s gaze to me, and a flash of understanding settled onto his features. “It’s best that everyone here know,” he flicked his eyes to Cynthia, “that Henri was never actually a suspect. I recruited Harvey to keep up that story while we investigated other leads. It was our hope that this fiction would bring us to justice sooner.”

  I risked a glance back at Cate, and she still looked angry.

  “Please put all blame for this situation firmly on my shoulders,” Tuck continued. “It was a risky move in terms of police procedure, but it was an eve
n bigger risk for Harvey.” He raised his Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. “Now, a toast of thanks to Harvey for being a good sport.”

  I felt very awkward now, but as I looked around the room, I saw my parents and Stephen and Walter grinning with their glasses and bottles in the air, and Daniel gave me a little side hug. Mart whistled, and even Lucas was smiling. Only Cate still glowered.

  The relief of having the truth in the air made me a little giddy, but despite the fact that I knew I couldn’t control Cate’s reaction to this news – or anything, in fact – I still felt responsible. Responsible and sad.

  I made my way across the living room to her, and I took her decision to actually let me get there as a good sign. At least I hoped it was a good sign. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  She nodded. “Why did you do it?”

  This was not the question I expected. “To catch Wilma’s killer.”

  “Yeah, I know that, but why Henri? How do you think it made her feel?”

  I smiled, and Cate’s scowl deepened. “Oh, Henri knew, Cate. From before I did, Henri knew. She was in on the plan.”

  Cate tilted her head. “She was?”

  “Yep. I wouldn’t have agreed if she wasn’t. I’m not cruel, Cate.” I studied her face, and she still didn’t look happy. “I thought you’d be thrilled.”

  She looked away from me, then, out over the deck. “I know I should be, but well . . .”

  When she met my eyes again, there were tears in them. “I just wish you could have told me.”

  “Oh, Cate.” I grabbed her in a tight hug, her dark hair tickling my chin. “I wanted to, and if you’d talked to me yourself, you might have figured out I was lying. Everyone else did, but given that you saw Henri every day, it was especially important that you believe she was under investigation. We did it to protect you and her, actually.”

  A warm pair of arms wrapped around the two us. “I’m sorry, Cate,” Henri said. “I know this is hard.”