by ACF Bookens
You might have thought I pledged my undying affection given his reaction. He grabbed my hand and kissed it, his lips staying – as usual – far too long on my skin. “I knew you’d like it. Perhaps someday you will allow me to give you a private lesson on how to make it.” He leered at me, and I tried not to shiver.
“That’s a kind offer,” I said, doing my best to equivocate. “Actually, there is something you can help me with.”
“Anything,” he said with such innuendo that I felt myself backing up in my chair.
“Someone came in here on Wednesday and bought five dozen flowers for a young woman at the bank. Do you remember who that was?”
He nodded. “Oh yes, Renee. Renee Forsham. Said something about wanting to thank one of her sister’s employees.”
I stared at Max, trying to process what he’d just told me and realized too late that my gaze was being taken as an invitation.
“Harvey, if I may,” he turned his body so that his back was to Daniel, “I would be honored if I could take you to dinner tomorrow night in Annapolis. I know this charming seafood place – small, intimate.” He leaned over me as he continued to speak. “We would have a marvelous evening—“
“I have plans tomorrow, Max, and I don’t eat seafood. Thank you, though.”
Daniel kicked me under the table, and I realized that I was opening myself up to continued advances if I didn’t just say no, so I did. “And Max, I am completely dedicated to Daniel.” I pointed across the table at my boyfriend who was, to his credit, looking either on the verge of giving Max a few choice words or breaking into hysterical laughter. “I will not go out with you now or ever. Please stop asking.”
I must have been speaking loudly because people at several nearby tables turned to look at us. Max, however, was not chagrined in the slightest. “Harvey, dear, you have not yet dissuaded me from my pursuit. Perseverance is always rewarded.” Then he bowed to me slightly and walked back inside.
The waiter brought our check, and we paid promptly and then skittered down the street, trying to contain our laughter until we were out of earshot. When we got to the corner where we left Main Street to head to my house, Daniel couldn’t contain himself any longer and turned to me, bowing, and said, “My lady, I am your valiant knight. I will fight to the death for your honor, even if you would rather I not. That is the kind of knight I am.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know what else to do, Daniel. I’ve told him no again and again, and he just doesn’t listen.”
He pulled me close. “I don’t know what the answer is, but as long as you’re saying no, I’m good.” Then he held me at arm’s length for a second. “I mean, I’m good if you are. If you want me to speak to him, I will.”
I smiled. “Thank you. You are my knight in shining armor, but for now Lady Harvey has it handled. Be on standby, though, lest I need you to joust for me.”
We walked a bit further in companionable silence, but then I said, “Renee Forsham is sending amorous notes to Cynthia. Do you think they were seeing each other?”
I saw Daniel’s brow crinkle, a sign he was thinking. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. The way Cynthia reacted . . . she wasn’t embarrassed. It was more like she was scared.”
He was right. Cynthia had looked terrified. At the time, I thought it was because she knew Dillard wasn’t supposed to be seeing her, but now, with this new information, I could see that she had actually been very, very afraid. “Poor girl.”
Daniel looked across his shoulder at me. “Harvey, the woman stole from your friend, one of your best friends.”
“I know. I know. I’m not saying she’s not culpable, but something is going on here, something that makes me think Cynthia may be a victim in this, too.”
* * *
The next morning, almost as soon as Marcus came in at eleven, I headed to the bank with our deposit. I’d held it again so that I could take it over in person as an excuse to talk to Cynthia.
As soon as I walked in the lobby, I saw her behind the counter, waiting on a customer. I stood in line, letting tellers take other customers until Cynthia was free. When she saw me, she grimaced but then tried to turn it into a smile.
I walked up and handed her my deposit envelope, and then I quietly said, “Cynthia, you don’t have to tell me anything, but if you’re in some kind of trouble, I’d like to help.”
Cynthia kept counting my money and preparing my deposit. Then, she wrote something on a slip of paper and handed it back to me with my receipt and envelope. It felt a bit like a reverse bank robbery. “Have a good day, Ms. Beckett,” she said with a stiff smile.
“Thank you, Cynthia. You, too.” I held off on opening the note until I got outside, but then I flipped the piece of paper over and read. “I’ll come to the store on my lunch break.”
Bingo. I knew it. She was in trouble, and I was going to get to help. I realized that there was something wrong with reveling in another person’s misery because it made me feel useful, but that was a psychological problem to tackle another day. I hurried back to the store so that I would be there whenever Cynthia came by.
But as I waited, Mart’s voice started sounding in my head. “Harvey, don’t be too trusting. She could be playing you.” I tried to shake off that doubt, but I knew that my imaginary Mart was right. Cynthia was in something deep, and she knew I knew. Maybe she was going to try to scam me . . . or worse. I had to have my guard up.
I was grateful she was coming to the store since it was a public place and the weekend tourist traffic had started to come in. There wasn’t much opportunity for me to be in danger. Still, I was glad Marcus was there. I gave him a heads up that Cynthia was coming by and that I wasn’t sure what she might tell me. “Can you keep an eye on us?”
“You got it, Ms. B.” He nodded solemnly but then a little smile crossed his lips. “How was dinner at Chez Cuisine last night?”
I groaned. “Don’t ask.”
* * *
Cynthia came in just after noon, and I pointed to the chairs in the fiction section. She shook her head. “I need to look like I’m shopping.”
“Oh, right. Okay. Romances?”
“Perfect.” We strolled over to the romance shelves and feigned interest in the newest Megan Squires titles.
“So what’s going on, Cynthia? The flowers?”
She shot me a look and then stared at the shelf in front of her. “I guess you know Dillard didn’t send them.”
“I do.” I didn’t feel like I needed to lie to her about that.
“She’s blackmailing me.” Cynthia’s voice was so quiet that I almost didn’t hear her.
“What?! How?” I wasn’t quite ready to let her know that I knew about the theft from the co-op accounts.
Cynthia sighed. “About a year ago, Wilma caught me stealing from a customer’s safety deposit box that they had neglected to lock. It was a few hundred dollars, something I justified by saying it was my hazard pay for working for Wilma.”
“Oh,” I said. “What did Wilma do?”
“She actually was very kind. She made me tell the customer, pay back all the money with interest, and let them decide if they wanted to press charges. They didn’t. I think because Wilma went to bat for me. But she didn’t fire me, and she didn’t turn me in herself.” Cynthia let out a long, slow breath. “It was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me.”
I wanted to ask why Cynthia had been stealing, but I knew that wasn’t the point, so I let it go. “Okay, that does sound kind. But how does Renee fit in?”
“Well, Wilma told her sister about the incident, I guess, and the next thing I knew Renee was opening accounts at our branch and then threatening me if I didn’t transfer money into them. She wanted fifteen hundred a month at least or she’d go to the police.”
I put my hands up over my head and looked up at the ceiling. “So you took the easy money in the co-op accounts?” I was grateful that I didn’t have to tell Cynthia that Ariel had already figured that out
for us.
“I’m so sorry, Harvey. So sorry. I just didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to go to prison.”
I nodded. “I get it. I mean, I don’t like it, but I get it.” I picked up another book and pretended to show it to Cynthia. “But why did Renee want the money? Was she broke?”
“I don’t know. It felt personal.” She shook her head. “A couple times she said things like, ‘Wait until the FDIC gets wind of this.’ Like she really just wanted Ms. Painter to get in trouble.”
“Ah, so this was some sort of sibling thing,” I asked.
“Yeah, but maybe more than that, too. I’m not sure. She seemed kind of scared, too, worried. But I don’t know why.”
My brain was working fast, but I didn’t have enough information to put it all together. “And the flowers?”
“She’s kind of into me, I think. I’m not sure. She keeps asking me to dinner, and I keep finding excuses, hoping that she won’t get mad and turn me in. But those flowers, they were really creepy.” She stared at her hands. “We never did anything, Ms. Beckett. I don’t know what she was talking about – the park, and my mouth and all that.”
“Oh man, yeah, that is creepy. Maybe she was setting you up or something?” I kind of hoped that’s what it was. Otherwise, Renee Forsham sounded like a stalker.
“Cynthia, I think you need to tell the sheriff what you’ve told me.” I said this gently, hoping not to cause her to panic.
But she surprised me and said, “Yeah, I know. That’s why I came here. Ariel told me about how you helped her tell him about where she was living.” She looked at me with round eyes. “Will you go with me?”
I honestly didn’t really feel like being another escort for a girl with a confession, but I also didn’t know how to say no. Cynthia was obviously in distress, and it was equally obvious that Renee Forsham was not the kind, grieving sister she’d made herself out to be. I agreed to go, as support, but also out of curiosity.
As we walked to the station, I texted the sheriff and told him Cynthia and I were coming over “with another confession.”
“Oh, okay. See you soon,” was his reply. I was again impressed by his ability to be nonplussed no matter what.
At the station, Tuck greeted us at the front desk and walked us back to his office. I knew he was probably expecting some of our conversation, and I appreciated that he used discretion but also didn’t make this feel like a casual visit.
As soon as we sat down, Cynthia started talking, and she didn’t stop until she’d told the sheriff everything from the theft to the blackmail to the dozens of flowers.
Tuck listened and made notes, asked questions for clarification, and reassured Cynthia, as I had done on the walk over, that once Cate understood the situation, she would not want to press charges.
To that effect, I took the liberty of discreetly texting Cate the most crucial info to which she replied, “Oh, how awful! How is Cynthia?”
I knew she’d get it. “Okay, but shaken up, of course.”
“Of course. I need to get our money back, but please tell her that I’m sorry she was put through that.”
“I will.”
By the time Cynthia had told Tuck everything, she looked both relieved and exhausted, and Tuck offered to have Harriet, the dispatcher, drive her home. “Thank you, but I need to go back to work.”
“Actually,” Tuck said, “I want you to stay away from the bank today. I’ll talk to your manager. Let her know what’s going on. You need to be away from any interaction with Renee Forsham, okay?”
Cynthia’s eyes got very wide. “I’m not in any danger, am I?”
The sheriff came around the desk and sat down in front of her. “No, I don’t think so. But just to be safe, can you stay with a friend tonight?”
Before Cynthia could say something silly about Dillard or such, I spoke up. “We’re having Ariel’s housewarming party tonight after we move her in. Why don’t you hang with me at the shop until we close? Then you can help us move her in and stay the night with Mart and me. Sound okay?”
Our guest room was getting a lot of use. I made a mental note to text Mart and give her the 411.
Cynthia let out a shuddering sigh. “Okay. If it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble at all. I think Mart might even have some clothes you can borrow.” I stood up and stretched. “I’m a bit, um, wider than you are, but you can definitely borrow some big comfy PJs from me.”
The sheriff gave me a grin. “Will there be face masks and pillow fights?”
“What is with men and the slumber party jokes?” I asked as I put my hand on his forearm. “Thank you, Sheriff.”
He walked us out into the lobby, and I lingered back for a moment. “Tuck, I know you probably can’t or won’t tell me anything, but just for the sake of Cynthia, I wanted to ask. Are you any closer to catching the murderer? I mean, it doesn’t seem like this theft and the murder are related, right?”
The sheriff made a very pronounced movement to the right with his eyes, and I glanced over to see Deputy Dillard watching us intently, a fact that the sheriff apparently wanted me to note.
“I’ll take that as a ‘No Comment’ then,” I said with a smile. “Guess I’ll just have to figure out the answers myself then?”
“Harvey Beckett—” but I was already out the door before he could finish his sentence.
* * *
Cynthia spent the rest of the afternoon in a chair with Mayhem and Taco at her feet. I was never going to be a “pets are people” kind of person, but I definitely knew that they understood people, especially people who needed comfort. Rocky kept our guest supplied with hot chocolate, and I checked in with her every once in a while just to see that she had all she needed with her cocoa and her romance novel. Clearly she was fine because she barely broke her eyes from the page to smile at me when I passed.
Mart sent me text updates on Ariel’s move regularly, and at about six, Cate and Lucas came in. “Mart mentioned that Cynthia was here and would be coming to dinner,” Cate said. “I don’t want her to worry about seeing me or anything, so I thought I’d stop by. Let her know it’s okay.”
I hugged her and said, “Thank you” before pointing her over to the chair where Cynthia had ensconced herself.
I really wanted to hear that conversation, but I miraculously minded my own business and went about tidying the store and preparing the cash register drawer so we could leave right at seven. After all the drama today, pizza, friends, and celebration sounded so great.
A little before I closed, Cynthia and Cate returned to the front of the store, and Lucas got up from his chair in the café, where he’d been reading A Man Called Ove, which I’d handed him when it looked like Cynthia and Cate might be talking for a while. While I rang up the book with my friends and family discount, Cynthia and Cate kept talking, and I could tell just from the casualness of their conversation that all was well.
“We’re going to go ahead and take Cynthia with us, if that’s okay with you, Harvey? Figured she could maybe use a little wine to shake off this day.”
Cynthia smiled and held up her book. “Plus, I just finished this. I never would have thought I’d like it, but it’s so funny.” Bridget Jones’s Diary had won over another reader.
“She’s been trying to get me to read that for weeks. I’ve been refusing because it seems ridiculous, but maybe I’ll have to give it a shot,” Cate winked at me.
“I’ll see you guys in a bit. Don’t eat all the Hawaiian pizza.”
After they left, I spent the next few minutes reshelving the few remaining books and helping Rocky clean up in the café. Friday nights in this small town bookstore were pretty quiet.
At seven on the dot, Rocky and I locked up, and she headed out for date night with Marcus. He’d spent the afternoon helping Ariel move, and I expected he was ready to spend some time with his girlfriend and not with a bunch of middle-agers who would be in bed by ten p.m. at the very latest. I imagined Arie
l and Cynthia felt the same, or maybe, I wondered, they would enjoy being with people who didn’t feel the pressure to seem lively and busy. When I was their age, the weight of social expectation felt so heavy. Now, I couldn’t care less. If I wanted to spend Friday night eating pizza and drinking wine with friends in a one-bedroom apartment, I would. Tomorrow night, I’d be up for TV and popcorn at home with my guy. That was all the social influencing I needed to do.
Daniel had brought my truck by on his way to Ariel’s earlier, stopping in to tell me it was parked on the street, a gift I was especially grateful for since I really didn’t want to make the walk home or ask him to come back into town to get me.
Mayhem jumped right in the truck, and Taco graciously lifted his front end so I only had to heft his rear up. Then, they went directly to their crates. I, however, had to climb awkwardly into the bed, a feat that could not by any means be described as graceful, and shut the kennel doors. Fortunately, a long day of sleeping had worn the pups out because they were each curled up inside their respective boxes by the time I closed them in. Thank goodness they weren’t puppies. That would have been a fiasco.
I took a moment to load Ariel’s new address on my phone and texted Daniel to say, “Be there in fifteen,” and then headed out of town on Route 13 going North. The streetlights of St. Marin’s ended in just a few blocks, and soon I was in the dark night of an Eastern Shore evening. Light pollution was almost nonexistent here, and I rolled down my window and enjoyed the breeze as I occasionally glanced up at the stars above me.
I was a couple of miles outside of the town limits when blue lights came on behind me. My first thought was that Tuck was pranking me. He was notorious for his jokes on townsfolk, but when I saw Dillard step out of the patrol car, I decided it must be something else. I hoped no one was in trouble.
“Hey Harvey,” he said. “Sorry to pull you over. But all your taillights are out.”