But Abigail was aware of how stubborn her aunt was. Her entire family was, and it wouldn’t change. Aunt Charlotte might be nodding right now, but she didn’t look convinced, and Abigail wouldn’t be surprised if she decided to do this anyway. There was no way Abigail could stop her, either. She could continue to protest and tell her aunt she was going to get hurt, but apparently, Aunt Charlotte didn’t care. She wanted to help Abigail, but she was also curious. She wanted to know what was happening. She wanted to be able to tell people that she’d been there, that she’d found out who the killer was. It was ridiculous and stupid and dangerous, but there was nothing Abigail could do. Her aunt was an adult. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” she asked.
Aunt Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by stupid?”
“Tell me you won’t go after the killer. I don’t want to lose you.”
“You don’t know if the killer will do anything to me.”
“I also don’t know whether or not they’ll try to stop you. Please. Mom would be devastated if she lost you, and I would, too. Think about us even if you don’t care about your own safety.”
That seemed to do the trick. Aunt Charlotte nodded. “Fine. I won’t get involved. For now,” she added.
Abigail sighed. She supposed it was better than nothing.
8
When Abigail came out of the backroom the next day, she found Aunt Charlotte at the counter, her head close to Eunice’s. They were whispering to each other. Abigail rolled her eyes and stepped closer, and the women jumped as if she’d caught them doing something they shouldn’t be doing.
Abigail suspected that was the case. She smiled at Eunice, then turned her attention to Aunt Charlotte. “What’s going on?” she asked.
Aunt Charlotte had the good taste to look embarrassed. “Nothing. We were just talking.”
“And what were you talking about?”
Aunt Charlotte opened her mouth, but Eunice beat her to it. “Martha, Randall’s wife. Well, his widow now.”
Abigail sighed. Her aunt’s promise to stay out of the investigation had lasted less than a day. “I thought we’d agreed,” she told her aunt.
Aunt Charlotte looked offended. “I’m not doing anything. I’m just talking with a friend.”
“And you just happened to be talking about Randall’s widow?”
“It’s interesting. Everyone is talking about her. Why shouldn’t I be?”
Abigail couldn’t deny that. Yesterday after work, she’d gone to the grocery store, and everyone had been talking about Randall and his wife. When she’d headed home, she’d stopped at the coffee shop, and the people there had been doing the same. The murder and Randall were the talk of the town, and she wasn’t surprised Aunt Charlotte wanted to talk about it, too. “You know I can’t forbid you to do anything. You’re an adult.”
Aunt Charlotte smiled. “I know you’re worried about me, and I promise I’m not putting myself in danger. I’m just talking to a friend.”
“All right.” Abigail moved away, mostly because she didn’t want to be a part of that conversation. She couldn’t avoid hearing it, though, no matter how hard she tried.
“You think Martha did it?” Eunice asked.
“Maybe. She certainly had a good reason to want him dead.”
“The money.”
There was a pause, then Aunt Charlotte said, “I was going to say that he wasn’t allowing her to get a divorce. The money?”
“Don’t you know?” Eunice’s voice softened even more, to the point where Abigail wouldn’t be able to hear if she made any kind of noise. “I found out that the main reason Martha never divorced Randall was that he held all the money. You know she didn’t have a job. She wouldn’t have had anything if they had gotten divorced, and of course, she didn’t want that to happen. How was she supposed to find a job at almost sixty?”
“She’s younger than that,” Aunt Charlotte pointed out.
“Still. Who would give her a job at her age? So even though she hated Randall, she decided to stay with him. Honestly, I can’t blame her. This kind of thing isn’t easy, especially when you’ve never worked.”
“What about her children? Surely they would have helped her.”
“I don’t know. It’s not like we see them that often, is it?”
“True, true. Still. I can’t see Martha doing this. She might have hated Randall, but she was still with him. She’s been with him for decades. Why would she kill him now?”
“Maybe she reached the end of her patience. It happens even to the best of us.”
“I know. I don’t see her as a murderer, though.”
“Who, then?”
“We have our pick. Half the people in town hated Randall. What about the mayor?”
“The mayor?” The surprise was obvious in Eunice’s voice.
Abigail shared it. What did the mayor have to do with this?
“You know he didn’t want Randall to open that hotel.”
“That doesn’t mean he would have killed him, Charlotte. Really. I’m sure that as the mayor, he’s used to dealing with these kinds of things. He might not have liked it, but he wouldn’t have killed Randall for it.”
Abigail agreed. She remembered the mayor from when she was a teenager. Of course, he hadn’t been the mayor back then, but he was a good person. Besides, it wouldn’t make sense for him to kill Randall. No matter how much he disapproved of the hotel plans Randall had, Randall hadn’t been anywhere near to making them happen. He’d still been trying to buy the bookstore and Aunt Charlotte’s shop. He wouldn’t have been able to build the hotel without them, and Abigail doubted he would ever have managed to convince Aunt Charlotte to sell. Roger, maybe. Abigail didn’t know him well, so she wasn’t sure about that.
What she was sure of was that Aunt Charlotte would never have sold the shop, which meant Randall wouldn’t have been able to open that hotel unless he changed his plans. That was entirely possible, of course, but since he’d still been trying to convince Aunt Charlotte, maybe he hadn’t wanted to, or he hadn’t been able to. Whatever the reason, Aunt Charlotte’s shop wasn’t going anywhere, and Abigail was pretty sure Randall had known that, too.
“The mayor doesn’t make sense,” Eunice said. “He’s not that kind of man. I mean, if he had to kill every person he disagrees with, we wouldn’t have a town council anymore.”
“That much is true. You remember his face when Janet did that thing at the fair?”
Abigail didn’t know what that thing had been, and she wasn’t planning on asking.
She might not like Aunt Charlotte sticking her nose into the situation, but at least she was doing it with someone safe. Abigail doubted Eunice had anything to do with Randall’s death. She could be wrong, but she didn’t think so. Unlike Abigail, Eunice was one of those people who wouldn’t hurt a fly, and as far as Abigail knew, she didn’t have a reason to want to kill Randall. Her salon was on the other side of the street and not in the spot Randall wanted for the hotel. Abigail had never heard anything about him trying to buy the salon.
Eunice was safe, and hopefully, so were the other people in Abigail and Aunt Charlotte’s life. Abigail didn’t have a way to find out, and the anxiousness made her stomach churn. She prayed Aunt Charlotte wouldn’t become the killer’s next victim, but just in case, she would do everything she could to keep her aunt safe.
Abigail was relieved the day was over. It wasn’t only because of Aunt Charlotte’s sudden desire to become a detective, either. The shop had been full again, mostly with people asking what happened with Randall and what he’d looked like when Aunt Charlotte and Abigail had found him. They didn’t care how many times Abigail told them they hadn’t been the ones to find him. They wanted details, and the more macabre those details were, the better it was for them. Abigail understood, even though she didn’t like it.
She hated having to answer, and she was always quick to turn their attention to the soaps, but that wasn’t why they were ther
e. Still, she’d managed to guilt several of them into buying, so it had been a good day. She could have done without Chief Holden interrogating her, but as she’d told Aunt Charlotte, she understood why he had done it. She hadn’t liked it then, and she still didn’t, but now that he wasn’t asking her about her whereabouts when Randall had died, she could see more clearly, and she had to admit he truly was doing his job. Of course he would interrogate everyone who had spent any length of time with Randall. He had to find out who had killed Randall.
She locked up the shop, turned around to go home, and noticed the bookstore was still open. She hadn’t gone yet, but maybe now was the time. If she was able to lose herself in a book tonight, it would help her relax, and she sorely needed it.
With a smile, she moved toward the door. She was still smiling when she opened the door and walked in.
Then, she saw Roger and a woman behind the counter. They were wrapped around each other, and they were kissing, clearly not having heard her come in. She looked at the door, wondering if she would be able to leave without making too much noise, but Roger moved away from the woman and opened his eyes, and he saw her.
His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed. “Abigail!” he said, falsely cheerful.
Abigail smiled awkwardly. “Sorry to disturb you. I saw the shop was still open, and I was wondering if I could get something to read for tonight.”
Roger looked from Abigail to the woman he was kissing, then back at Abigail. “Of course, of course. You’re always welcome here.”
“I’m sorry I’m a bother. I can go if you want me to.”
“Don’t worry about it. Please, look around.” He hesitated, then looked at the woman again. “I just don’t want you to assume.”
Abigail frowned. She had no idea what he was talking about. “Of course not.”
“Martha and I might be together, but it doesn’t mean we had anything to do with Randall’s death.”
It took a second for Abigail to understand what Roger was saying. “Martha? As in Randall’s wife?”
Roger’s eyes widened even more. Apparently, he’d just realized Abigail had had no idea who the woman was until he mentioned it. “Randall and Martha were married. We didn’t have anything to do with his death, though,” he repeated.
“Of course.” Abigail prayed it was true because it would be too easy for Roger and Martha to kill her right now. No one knew she was there. Aunt Charlotte had gone home a while ago, leaving the shop in Abigail’s hands. She had no one waiting for her at home except for Marcel. No one would realize something had happened to her until tomorrow morning, and by then, it would be too late.
But she shouldn’t assume. Even though apparently, Roger and Randall’s wife had been having an affair, it didn’t mean they were the killers. The police usually suspected the wife or husband first, but it didn’t mean they were guilty.
Right?
Abigail cleared her throat. “Don’t worry about it.”
Roger was worried about it, though. “I know I told you Randall was trying to buy the bookstore and that I was having trouble paying the bills, but that doesn’t change anything. Randall’s death doesn’t change anything,” he explained.
He was rambling. If he was trying to convince Abigail he was innocent, it wasn’t working. No matter how many times Abigail tried telling herself that all of this didn’t mean Roger had killed Randall, she now had three different motives for him to do it. He was having an affair with Randall’s wife, Randall had been trying to buy the bookstore, and the bookstore was having money troubles. What was Abigail supposed to do with this?
She forced herself to smile. “Relax. I promise I’m not thinking anything about this. I’m just sorry I walked in on the two of you.”
Roger opened his mouth, maybe to give Abigail yet another reason he couldn’t have killed Randall, but thankfully, Martha stopped him before he could do it. “Abigail. Charlotte’s niece?” she asked.
Abigail had never been so grateful for an interruption. “Yes.”
“How is she? How is her arm?”
“It’s not stopping her from doing pretty much everything she was doing before. She asked me to come home and help her with the shop, but honestly, she didn’t need it.”
While it was true that she had trouble making soap, she was trying to find a way around it. Abigail knew the main reason Aunt Charlotte had asked her to come and help was that Abigail had needed it more than Charlotte. She’d been floundering between the end of her marriage and not knowing what to do with her life, and this opportunity had been perfect. She’d come home, and now, she had a job and a house, even though neither of those were actually hers. It was better than what she would have had if she’d stayed in the city, though, and she would be eternally grateful for this opportunity.
Martha smiled, and she looked like a nice lady, gentle and distinguished. Abigail had a hard time imagining her bludgeoning her husband on the back of the head with a paperweight. “I’m glad to hear that. We were all worried when she fell and hurt herself, but when we offered to help her with the shop, she dismissed us. She said she had just the thing, and now, I realize that thing was you.”
Abigail shrugged. “I might not have been present in the past several years, but we’re still family.”
“And that’s what’s important, isn’t it?”
Abigail couldn’t deny that. “It is.” She looked around. “I should probably go.”
“You wanted a book,” Randall intervened again.
Abigail nodded, even though she wasn’t sure she would be able to read anything after what had just happened. Her thoughts were twirling, and she could only imagine what her aunt would say if she told her what she’d seen. She wasn’t sure she would, but she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to this than what she thought. “Of course.”
“What do you like reading? Romance?”
Abigail hesitated. She’d liked reading romance once, but now, it put her on edge. “Actually, no. Do you have any good mysteries?”
“I have just the thing.”
Roger rushed away from the counter. They were all nervous, but especially Roger. Abigail knew more about him and Martha than anyone else, and it had to be unsettling. Abigail, on the other hand, was praying that Roger and Martha had nothing to do with Randall’s murder.
When she left the shop, she had two mystery books to read, and many more questions than she’d had before she’d walked in. No matter how much she didn’t want to believe that Martha or Roger had something to do with Randall’s death, she couldn’t help but wonder. Did Chief Holden know about their affair? He might have found out, but then, maybe not. The only reason Abigail had was that she’d walked in on them. Should she tell him?
Abigail didn’t know, and it left her uneasy. She didn’t want to spy on people, but if she had to choose between Randall and Martha and Aunt Charlotte or herself, she knew which way she’d go.
Abigail had a hard time not thinking about Randall’s murder on her way home. Even walking along the sidewalk couldn’t distract her, and she was grateful to be in Dunter Harbor where no one would try to follow her, or worse. She was safe, and that left her too much time to wonder if Roger and Martha had killed Randall.
She wanted to think they hadn’t. She liked Roger, even though she didn’t know him well, and Martha had been perfectly nice. Abigail couldn’t imagine them deciding to kill Randall, or even killing him in the heat of the moment.
That didn’t mean they hadn’t.
Abigail sighed, grateful to reach Aunt Charlotte’s house. She had to stop thinking about the case. She didn’t want to obsess over it, but she couldn’t stop turning various hypothesis over in her mind and trying to understand who had killed Randall. She blamed her love of mystery novels for that, and while she was annoyed that her life had seemingly become one, she couldn’t deny it was thrilling—as long as she wasn’t a suspect. She wasn’t sure Chief Holden believed her when she said she had nothing to do with the murder, and
even though she wanted to think he would eventually, she couldn’t get rid of the sensation that she might end up behind bars.
Maybe Aunt Charlotte wasn’t wrong to want to investigate this on her own. It was a spectacularly bad idea if she was the one to do it, but Abigail was younger, and she didn’t have a broken arm. Even if by some miracle she managed to find the killer and they came after her, she’d have a better chance to make it out in one piece than Aunt Charlotte.
But no. Abigail should have faith in Chief Holden. So far, he hadn’t done anything that would make her think he didn’t know what he was doing. He’d interrogated her, but he wasn’t doing anything he shouldn’t. As far as she knew, he was questioning everyone involved, and unfortunately, that included Abigail and her aunt.
Marcel was waiting for her when she finally got home. He started screaming at her as soon as she opened the front door, which made her roll her eyes. “Aunt Charlotte spoils you,” she said as she toed off her shoes.
She pushed them to the side and headed to the kitchen. Marcel wouldn’t leave her alone until she fed him, and with her luck, he’d trip her, and she’d break her arm, too. Then she and Aunt Charlotte would only have two working arms between the two of them.
He finally left her alone once he got his food, and she turned her attention to dinner. She didn’t enjoy cooking much, although she did like to bake. She couldn’t eat chocolate chip cookies for dinner, though, so she opened the freezer, smiling when she found the ready to bake fish slice. She’d grabbed it the last time she’d gone to the store, even though Shannon, the owner, had wrinkled her nose as she bagged it and had told Abigail she should take better care of herself. Abigail didn’t have the energy to cook from scratch, not now that she was taking care of the shop. She wasn’t used to this kind of work, and she hoped that eventually, she’d get used to it enough that she wouldn’t feel like she could sleep a week by the end of every day.
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