by Reagan Davis
“Congratulations!” I say.
“Thank you,” she says, smiling proudly. “This is our second grand baby. Our grandson is almost two. Our daughter is due in two weeks, and my husband is on call to stay with our grandson when she and her husband go to the hospital to have the baby. Then he’ll stay close and help look after him while they get the new baby settled.”
I ask if she has any photos, but they’re on her phone. Since I have her phone, I don’t get to see any photos.
“I’m supposed to be the one on baby watch,” she says sadly, “but I had to come to Harmony Lake, so Grandpa has to hold down the fort.”
“They’re lucky to have you and that you’re able to help,” I assure her.
“I wish we could do more to help,” she says. “Raising a family is so expensive these days, but we can’t afford to help them financially. That’s why I wanted to sell the land to Mega Mart, it would provide a legacy for our daughter and grandchildren.”
“Did your difference of opinion about the Mega Mart offer cause bad feelings between you and Laura? Did she die before you and she could resolve it?”
“No, thank goodness,” she replies. “When Laura called to tell me about her broken leg, and the family business she needed to discuss with me, she also offered to purchase my share of the land. She thought it was the perfect solution. I’d benefit from the sale, and she’d own the land outright. We’d have no reason to disagree about it, and she could refuse Mega Mart’s offer.”
We leave, locking the door behind us. I return the key to the pill bottle, tighten the cap, and bury it in the urn where it came from.
Chapter 15
At home, Sophie sniffs my legs while I prepare her dinner.
Watching her eat, I wonder if she knows from smelling me that I was at her house this afternoon. Could she smell the scent of the killer the day we found Laura? Was it someone she knows? If Sophie could talk, this case might be solved by now.
Last night, I finished the baby blanket I was knitting for the charity knitting guild, and I still need to block it. It’s been soaking in the laundry room sink since this morning.
I spread some blocking mats on the kitchen table, squeeze the excess water from the blanket, spread it out on the blocking mats, and pin it down. When it dries, I’ll unpin it and give it to the guild to add it to the collection of blankets they’re donating to the AC.
I dry my hands and text Eric.
Me: I’m home. We still on for tonight?
Eric: Yes. Have you had dinner?
Me: Not yet. I’ll make us something. Shrimp linguine? With salad?
Eric: No need to cook. I’ll pick up something.
About twenty minutes later, I open the door, and Eric comes in carrying two bags from Ho Lee Chow. I take the bags from him and carry them to the dining room while he takes off his winter gear.
“You don’t have to feed me every time we see each other,” I tell him. “I’m not giving you information in exchange for food. This isn’t a quid pro quo.”
“It’s the least I can do,” he replies from the front door. “I was such a jerk this morning.”
“Please don’t apologize again,” I tease.
“I’ll try to stop myself,” he says jokingly. “But seriously, I like our meals together, it’s a nice change from eating alone.”
I can’t disagree with that.
I put the bags on the dining room table and go into the kitchen for plates and cutlery.
When I come back into the dining room, Eric is standing at the table unpacking the food. He’s wearing jeans. I’ve never seen him in jeans.
They definitely suit him.
He paired them with a cream-coloured, cable-knit sweater. I’m pretty sure the sweater is store bought, not hand knit, but it doesn’t matter. The fit is flattering, and the sleeves stretch across his biceps just enough to remind me he has biceps. He looks warm, cozy, and temptingly snuggly. I allow myself to look, but just for a moment. Then I tell myself firmly to stop staring.
I put the plates and cutlery on the table.
“These are all my favourite things from their menu,” I say, looking at the spread. “Is that a coincidence or did you ask them what I usually get?”
“I got the same things we ordered in September.” He shrugs. “Remember? We ate Ho Lee Chow at the store while I questioned you.”
“I remember.” I nod. “You can remember a random restaurant order from four months ago?”
“I’m observant, it’s my job.” He smiles and sits down in front of his plate.
I go back to the kitchen and return with napkins and two beers.
“Before you leave,” I tell him, “remind me to give you the dog sweaters that Laura knit for the silent auction. They’re in my bag.”
He nods.
I open both beers and put one in front of him with one of the napkins.
Sophie joins us. She jumps on the sofa a few feet away in the living room, lies down, and lets out a sigh.
“How was your visit to Laura’s house?” Eric asks.
I tell him about the purple palace, the stack of letters under the bed that match the one on Laura’s kitchen table the morning she died, Glenda’s disclosure that Laura offered to buy her share of the AC, and about me keeping Sophie.
“That’s awesome news about Sophie,” he says. “I’m not gonna lie, I wasn’t looking forward to her leaving. I think she and I have bonded. I enjoyed our walks together when you were off your feet.”
Next, I tell him about Glenda lying about her alibi and April finding her phone.
“Glenda would like her phone back. With her daughter so close to her due date, I can see why she needs to be reachable at all times. Can I give it back to her, or do you need it?”
“I’d like to return it to her personally,” he replies.
I get up from the table, retrieve Glenda’s phone from the drawer in the kitchen, hand it to him, then tell him about my trip to the Willows farm yesterday.
I tell him about running into Jay Singh, Mrs. Willows’ confession that they lied about their cardiology appointment because they don’t have a strong alibi, and Mr. Willows not wanting people to know about his cardiology appointment.
“Were you as shocked as I was to learn that Dr. Val White’s uncle is the CEO of Mega Mart?” I ask.
His eyes open wide, and he tilts his head. “Really?”
“That’s what Mrs. Willows told me,” I reply. “I haven’t confirmed it though.”
“I’ll look into it,” he says.
“Did you notice that Mrs. Willows car is a four-door, grey sedan?” I ask.
His mouth is full of Cantonese Chow Mein, so he nods.
“That’s three people who know Laura and have a car matching the description of the car the postal carrier saw in her driveway the morning she died,” I observe.
“Who’s the third?” he asks.
“The Sweeneys,” I say. “I saw them driving it this morning.”
He nods, swallows a mouthful of food and takes a swig of beer.
“She was driving that car on Tuesday,” he tells me, “when she was volunteering with Meals on Wheels.”
I guess that’s the Sweeney’s whereabouts accounted for when Laura died.
“Speaking of the Sweeneys,” I say, “Brian mentioned that the AC was robbed just before Christmas, and they stole all the medication.”
“That’s right,” he confirms. “We arrested two guys from Harmony Hills for it about a week ago.”
“Was digoxin among the stolen drugs?” I ask.
“It was,” he says, “among many others.”
“When you arrested them, did you recover any of the drugs?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “The drugs were long gone. They probably sold them within hours of getting them. And before you ask, they either don’t know, or won’t say, who they sold the digoxin to.”
My phone dings.
Craig: Have you had a chance to look at your schedule? How doe
s tomorrow night look? After that I’m working nights until Saturday.
“Is everything OK?” Eric asks. “Your face tensed up when you read that text.”
“Yup,” I reply, “it’s just Craig.”
“Megan, if seeing Craig makes you happy, you should see him. I was a jerk about it this morning, but I promise I won’t be a jerk about it again.”
“If I want to see Craig,” I say smiling, “I wouldn’t let you being a jerk stop me.”
“I’m sure of that,” he says.
We finish eating and turn on the TV to check the score of the hockey game. We settle on the sofa, with Sophie between us, and watch the game until intermission when Eric gets up to leave.
“I don’t mind walking Sophie before I go,” he offers.
“Thank you,” I say, “but now that I’m back on two feet, I won’t have to impose on everyone to walk Sophie.”
“It’s not an imposition.” He shrugs. “I enjoy it.”
We say goodnight and he leaves. As soon as he drives away, I remember I was supposed to give him the dog sweaters from Laura.
I fire off a quick text to Craig telling him tomorrow night doesn’t look good to get together, then I help Sophie put on her sweater, and attach her leash. I bundle myself up, and we go for a walk.
When we get back, I change into my green flannel pyjamas with sheep on them. After I brush my teeth, wash my face, and put my hair up, I cuddle on the sofa with Sophie. I open my laptop and visit the Let Me Take A Cellfie website.
According to their Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ) page, customers receive their DNA results via email, two to three weeks after the samples are received by the Let Me Take A Cellfie lab.
I need access to Laura’s email to see if she’s received the results.
She must have sent the DNA samples to the lab before she broke her leg, because when she broke her leg, she went straight to the hospital and stayed there for a week. She was only home for a few hours before Eric and I found her. She died six days ago, so it’s probably been at least two weeks since she sent the samples to the lab. The results could be sitting in her inbox, waiting to be read.
What the FAQ page doesn’t answer is whether the results are sent to both people who provide samples, or just the person who paid for the test and mailed the samples to the lab. If both parties receive the results, Laura’s potential love child could already have them.
I’m about to close my laptop when I remember the other thing I want to look up.
I go the Mega Mart website, find and read the About page for the CEO, then search the internet for articles and posts that include information about his family.
Chapter 16
Tuesday January 14th
It’s snowing. Big fat snowflakes that grab hold of each other on their way to the ground and cling to your hair and eyelashes. The air isn’t as frigid today. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still below the freezing mark, but we’re enjoying a much-needed respite from the frigid wind chill.
I park behind the store, and Sophie and I walk around to the front, then across the street for a walk in the park.
I shake the snowflakes out of my hair, and Sophie shakes the snowflakes from her sweater and exposed fur.
I'm kicking the snow from my boots against the brick wall beside the front door before we go inside, when Glenda comes out of Wilde Flowers with a broom and begins sweeping the light dusting of snow from the sidewalk in front of the shop onto the street.
“Good morning, Megan,” she says. “Thank you again for your help yesterday. I’m grateful I didn’t have to do it alone.”
“Anytime,” I say. “It was nice to see a glimpse of Laura that I never got to know.”
I want to tell her about the DNA test packaging I found and talk to her about accessing Laura’s email, but Phillip comes outside.
He congratulates me for getting to keep Sophie and congratulates Sophie for getting to keep me.
While we’re making small talk, I start to get chilly and want to go inside.
“Glenda, would you mind meeting me at Laura’s later?” I ask. “I want to pick up the rest of Sophie’s things, and I think I saw a bag of her food in the kitchen.”
“You go ahead, Megan,” she replies. “You know where the key is, and we trust you.”
They laugh.
“I’d feel more comfortable if you were with me,” I implore.
She agrees to meet me after we close up tonight.
I go inside, take off Sophie’s sweater and my coat, hang them up in the back room, and switch on the lights in the store. Then I turn the sign from CLOSED to OPEN and get to work checking the store email and voicemail.
I hang up the phone, and the familiar jingle of the bell prompts me to look toward the door where I see PC Amy Andrews and PSD Tundra entering the store. Amy closes the door behind her.
Sophie runs over with her tail wagging, excited about having another dog in the store. She’s bouncing around him playfully and sniffing him.
“Hi Megan,” Amy says. “Is Eric around? He’s supposed to have a package for me.”
I think she’s referring to the package of dog sweaters for the silent auction.
“Do you mean the dog sweaters?” I ask. “I happen to have them right here.”
I reach under the counter, pull the package out of my tote bag, and put it between on the counter between us.
“I do,” she replies, “but I kind of need to speak to him about something else too. I sent him a text, but he hasn’t replied.”
“His car was out back when I got here,” I say. “I’ll text him and let him know you’re here.”
Me: A colleague is here to see you.
He replies almost instantly: Be right there.
“He says he’ll be here in a minute,” I say, smiling.
I nudge the package of dog sweaters toward her. She doesn’t pick them up.
I expect Eric to come from the back room because that’s where the stairs to the apartment are, but instead he comes through the front door carrying a to-go tray from Latte Da with two take out cups in it.
“Morning, Amy.” He smiles at her.
He hands me one of the cups and shakes the snow out of his brown hair.
While Eric and Amy are talking, I sip my surprise mystery coffee and discover it’s a cafe mocha with extra whipped cream. I savour the caffeinated treat while watching Sophie try desperately to convince Tundra to play with her.
She sniffs him, lowers the upper half of her body to the floor in a downward dog pose and yelps playfully while wagging her tail. She even tries nipping at his huge Malinois paws.
He notices her, wags his tail, and sniffs her, but then he seems to remember he’s a professional dog who’s on duty and goes back to ignoring her.
Mixed signals much?
I sense Sophie’s confusion, and I feel for her. Sometimes I wish a certain officer of the law would notice me, and just when I think maybe he does, he goes back into cop-mode and talks to me like I’m a witness.
I shift my gaze from Sophie and Tundra, to Amy and Eric. Like Sophie, Amy is flirting with Eric. She’s giggling, touching his arm with one hand and twirling a strand of her hair with the other. She’s young and pretty. She’s thirty-ish, short (about my height), blonde hair, brown eyes, and has deep dimples when she smiles, which I notice she does often when she flirts.
“Amy,” I interrupt, “is Tundra allowed to have a dog treat?”
“Sure,” she says, “he’d love one, thanks.”
I call Sophie, and we go to the kitchenette to get treats for her and her friend.
“You’re such a flirt, Sophie,” I say, putting one of the shoe-shaped treats from Tamara on the floor in front of her. “I might need you to teach me how to do that, someday.”
I come back into the store and put two bone-shaped cookies on the floor in front of Tundra, then I give a second cookie to Sophie.
I hear Amy suggest to Eric that they go to the reunion-fundraiser together. Er
ic tells her he already has a date.
He has a date? Who’s his date?
Then he reminds her that she’ll probably be busy with the silent auction anyway, so they wouldn’t see each other. She agrees with him, but she sounds disappointed.
They’re still talking. I don’t know what they’re saying, because I’m busying myself in another part of the store, but I hear muttering, punctuated at regular intervals with her giggling.
“Thanks for the dog treats, Megan,” Amy calls out.
“Anytime,” I say. “Have a good day.”
She picks up Tundra’s leash and turns to leave.
“Amy!” I call out.
She turns around and I hold up the package of dog sweaters.
“Don’t forget these,” I say. “They’re the reason you came in.”
We laugh and she leaves.
I have another sip of my coffee.
“Thank you for this,” I say, holding up my cup. “It’s such a nice treat. How did you know what to order?”
“I ordered the same thing you ordered for yourself yesterday,” he replies.
“Your powers of observation are amazing, Detective Sergeant.”
We wish each other a good day, and he stoops down to give Sophie some rubs, then stands back up and leaves for work.
I text April.
Me: I need a huge favour.
April: Of course!
Me: Thank you!
April: Just admit you have a crush on your upstairs tenant, first.
Me: Seriously?
April: Seriously.
Me: Fine.
April: Fine what?
Me: He’s hot, not sure it’s a crush tho.
April: That wasn’t so hard, was it? What do you need?
I tell her what I need, and then I delete these texts so no one will ever see them.
“We’re just pretending,” I remind April. “We aren’t really here to adopt a pet. The goal is to talk to Dr. White and ask her some questions.”
“I know,” April replies. “We can look, but we can’t take any home. Except maybe just one.”
“No,” I tell her firmly. “T will kill me if you leave here with a pet.”
