by Rickie Blair
“How did you get here this fast?”
“I was studying at the library, and we heard the crash,” he said over Emy’s head. “Where’s the driver?”
“He ran off.” I raised a hand to massage my throat. The vein in my neck that always warned of an anxiety attack was throbbing.
At the sound of another siren, I turned my head. Two police cars pulled up, one with a flashing light bar. It pulled sideways to block the street.
I sighed in relief as Jeff got out of the second car.
He hurried over to me. “Were you inside when it happened?”
I nodded. “Yes. With Emy. We’re not hurt.”
He led me to his car. “Sit. I’ll be back in a minute.” Before closing the door, he leaned in. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He hesitated a moment. “You’re positive?”
“Yes. Go do your job.”
“If you feel faint, bend and put your head between your knees.”
“Go. I’m fine.”
And I would be, now that Jeff was here. His presence always calmed me.
A police officer unspooled yellow caution tape while a tow truck pulled in behind the cruiser. It waited, engine idling, as two men in windbreakers discussed the situation with Jeff and Captain Bob. There was a lot of gesticulating.
Emy and Lorne approached me, and I lowered the window.
“The police said it will be hours before we can get back into Emy’s apartment. We’re going to my parents’,” Lorne said. “Want to come with us?”
“Thanks, but Jeff will take me home.”
Glancing over his shoulder to assess the scene, Lorne shook his head. “Why would anybody drive their car into a store?”
A plausible reason came to mind, but I kept it to myself—it was too crazy to voice out loud. Instead, I said, “It must have been an accident. Emy, did you recognize the driver?”
“I didn’t see his face. Did you?”
“Not really,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s weird he ran off.”
She focused her attention up Main Street. “He won’t get far. The police expect to find him within minutes.”
Lorne took her arm. “C’mon, Emy. Let’s get out of here. You should lie down.”
She heaved a sigh. “I guess. See you later, Verity.” They trudged back to the alley, headed for Emy’s Fiat 500 parked behind the bakery.
Across the street, Jeff gave a curt nod to the tow truck driver before heading in my direction. He slid into the driver’s seat beside me. “How are you doing?” he asked, inserting the key into the ignition.
“I’m fine. Did you find the driver?”
He turned over the engine, frowning. “Not yet.”
“Why did he run off?”
He glanced in the rearview mirror before backing up. “The SUV was reported stolen this morning from an underground parking garage in Strathcona. One of those high-rise office buildings downtown.”
“He was joyriding?”
“Looks like it.” He pulled away from the curb. “Emy said she didn’t get a good look at the driver. Did you?”
“No. At first, I was too shocked to even notice him. And then—he was gone. He wore a windbreaker with a hoodie over most of his face. That’s all I saw.”
Jeff turned onto the road that led up the Escarpment. “We’re hoping the parking garage cameras will give us something to go on.”
“How long will the police search for him? It’s only property damage, isn’t it?”
“It’s criminal behavior. You could have been killed. What if you’d been standing in front of the window?” He puffed out a breath, taking a curve in the road much faster than he usually did. “We’ll find him.”
I braced a hand on the dashboard. “Slow down, Dudley.”
He smiled briefly at my reference to the hapless red-coated Mountie of cartoon fame, but otherwise ignored my wisecrack. “Take it easy for a day or two. It’s a shock, and you could have a delayed reaction.”
“Stop worrying about me.” The police radio crackled with a routine observation. I leaned in, trying to hear the details. “It’s been nearly an hour. You’d think someone would have spotted him by now. Maybe he hitched a ride.”
“On Main Street?”
“Perhaps he had a partner, and they were in it together.”
He swiveled his eyes to me before returning his attention to the road. “Hijinks, you mean?”
Sometimes Jeff’s choice of words made him seem a lot older than he was. I backhanded his arm. “Yeah. Hijinks. No, I was thinking more like a gang. What if it was an initiation rite?”
“Your imagination is getting away from you.” He pulled into Rose Cottage’s driveway, then switched off the engine. “It was a joy ride. We’ll find him. Then we’ll charge him with dangerous driving. For starters.”
“What if he did it on purpose?”
His black eyes drilled into me for several seconds before he answered. “What makes you think that?”
“Nothing,” I said hastily.
He continued to stare.
“Well. When that SUV came across the street…” I hesitated. “Jeff, it didn’t look like an accident. It headed straight for us. The driver didn’t even try to turn away.”
He frowned. “I thought you didn’t see the driver.”
“I didn’t. Not clearly enough to identify him. But he crashed head-on into the bakery. I think he did it on purpose.”
“Hmm.” Jeff’s fingers tapped on his thigh as he stared through the windshield, brow furrowed.
A chill slid down my back as I watched those tapping fingers. “What is it?”
He ran a hand across his mouth before slumping back with a sigh. “Frank said you might be in danger from his associates.”
“What?” I blurted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t believe him. I still don’t. When I followed him, I saw no evidence of associates. He didn’t meet with anybody, other than Wilf. I think it’s a story.”
“Why would he make that up?”
“I’m not sure.” Jeff shook his head, frowning. “Still, we shouldn’t rule it out.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“Sorry. Occupational hazard.” He turned to me with a forced smile. “The crash at the bakery was probably an accident, Verity. You’d be surprised how often someone drives into a storefront. Usually they’re distracted by a phone call or a text. Sometimes an elderly motorist hits the accelerator instead of the brake. The driver could be inebriated. Or—” He lifted an eyebrow. “It could be a crash-and-grab.”
“A what?”
“They crash a stolen car through the window and grab the goods. But that doesn’t usually happen during the day.” He hesitated. “Unless the driver had a sudden hankering for butternut scones.”
I laughed in spite of myself. “You’re going to regret that.”
He reached over me—pausing longer than necessary, his eyes on mine—and opened my door. “Just be careful.”
Inside Rose Cottage, Boomer—overjoyed to see Jeff back this soon—pranced and whirled on his hind legs. Jeff settled me on the sofa under a comforter, with the TV remote and a mug of tea close at hand, before departing. He bent to tickle the dog’s ears while giving me a last look.
“Take care of yourself,” he cautioned.
I raised my mug in salute before he closed the door.
As soon as his cruiser cleared the driveway, I flung the comforter to one side and bounded off the sofa, determined to check out my theory. I hadn’t told Jeff about it because—well, it was ridiculous.
But I couldn’t help wondering where Frank Thorne had been during the 5X crash-and-no-grab. And if he knew the man at the wheel of that SUV.
Chapter Eleven
I’d locked Boomer in the kitchen of Rose Cottage, slipped on my coat, and opened the front door when I was stopped dead in my tracks.
Aunt Adeline stood on the front porch.
“What are you doing here?”
Her expression was grim. “Family conference.”
Frank stood beside her. Adeline shoved him toward the door.
He stalked across the threshold while holding up his hands in a feigned gesture of helplessness. “This was not my idea, Verity. I was minding my own business when Adeline decided to make a hell of a scene in the Tipsy Jay. Nice little place, that. Is it new?”
He slipped off his coat, then handed it to me, but kept his boots on.
As he brushed past, a faint whiff of beer hit my nostrils.
Frank must have noticed the Jay’s sign, with its four-foot-high purple bird, across the street when he left Emy’s bakery that morning. I was surprised Katia Oldani, the proprietor and chef of the Tipsy Jay, would serve alcohol at such an early hour.
With a glance at my watch, I realized I’d lost track of time after my traumatic morning. It was nearly two, well past the eleven am opening time.
The plump and amiable Katia was a sucker for good-looking men. She’d been hitting on Jeff for years, to their mutual amusement. Frank, who was closer to her age, would have recognized a pushover for his charm. It probably only took one glance from those laser-blue eyes to get the draft flowing. Knowing Katia, it was likely on the house, too.
I narrowed my eyes, watching him stroll into the living room. While sitting outside the bakery in Jeff’s cruiser, I had not noticed Frank in the crowd milling around after the crash. If he was in The Tipsy Jay across the street, how had he missed the commotion?
Adeline followed him into the living room, pausing only to shuck off her own coat and hand it to me before slipping out of her boots. She thrust out her chin to indicate Frank’s back. “I found that layabout draped over a bar stool. We’ll need tea, Verity. And sandwiches if you have any. I didn’t have time for lunch.”
Before I could shut the door, Gideon pushed his way in. Wordlessly, he removed his jacket and hat and handed them to me before following the others.
Balancing three coats, two scarves, and a hat, I struggled to close the door with one foot. After a futile glance about for spare hangers, I dumped the outerwear on the floor. The freeloaders could sort it out for themselves.
Frank, seated on the same sofa cushion he’d favored on his last visit, and Adeline, in an armchair across from him, were already arguing.
“I told you where I was. At the Tipsy Jay. Ask Katia.”
“I did. She said she was in the back, rustling up lunch for you, for at least ten minutes. You could easily have made a phone call or even stepped outside.”
“For what purpose?”
Adeline leaned back, crossing her arms. “To signal your associate.”
Frank snorted. “That’s ridiculous.”
My aunt’s voice rose. “Verity was nearly killed. You need a better alibi than that.”
“Alibi?” Frank spit out the word. “Can you hear yourself, woman? Surely you’re not implying I would harm my own daughter?”
“That’s exactly what I’m implying.”
Within a second, Frank was on his feet, glowering, hands clenched by his side.
I hustled over to calm them down. “I was never in any danger, Aunt Adeline. Neither was Emy. We were well away from the window when that… vehicle crashed into it.” I placed a hand on Frank’s arm. “Come on, Dad. Sit down.”
I uttered the word Dad sarcastically, but it had the desired effect. Frank slumped onto the sofa, still scowling.
“Can someone please tell me what this is about?” I asked.
Frank muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, That woman is crazy. Although he’d used a word more colorful than woman.
Adeline’s eyes narrowed.
“Cut it out, Frank,” I said. “That’s not helping.”
Gideon slapped his knees, and rose to his feet. “Why don’t I get us some coffee?”
Thanks, I mouthed, taking the armchair beside my aunt. I wanted to ask Frank why he told Jeff I might be in danger, but I was afraid to do it in front of my aunt. Instead, I simply gave him an expectant glance. “Well?”
“Don’t look at me. This little gathering was your aunt’s idea. She’s got some fool notion about that accident at the bakery.” He hesitated. “You and Emy are okay, aren’t you? You didn’t get hurt?”
My aunt harrumphed. “Fat lot you care. You never left your stool.”
“By the time we realized what was happening, the street was clogged with police cars and firefighters and gawkers milling about. I didn’t want to make it worse.” His brow furrowed. “How was I to know Verity was still inside?”
“That’s true, Aunt Adeline,” I added. “The last thing we needed was more people cluttering up Main Street. By the way, how did you hear about the accident?”
She pulled a cell from her pocket, then waved it at me. “Two dozen texts.” With a gesture of disgust, she dropped the phone in her lap. “People heard that crash for blocks. You must have felt it in the Tipsy Jay, Frank.”
“I was in the toilet when it happened,” he said. “Never heard a thing.”
In my mind, I reviewed the Jay’s layout. The kitchen was in the back and the bathroom was in the basement. It was entirely possible neither Katia nor Frank heard the initial impact. I turned to my aunt.
“You haven’t told me why you felt it necessary to call a family conference.”
Her intense gaze drilled into Frank. “Because I want to know who was behind this.”
Frank spit out a disgusted, “I had nothing to do with it. It was obviously some kid out for a joy ride.”
“Did you pay him?”
He gaped at her, momentarily unable to speak. “What?” he spluttered.
I harbored suspicions about what Frank was doing in Leafy Hollow, but it seemed unlikely he would pay someone to injure his own daughter. How would that accomplish his stated goal? Although—I wrinkled my brow. If I was out of the way—in hospital, say, with an anxious Jeff by my bedside—Frank could search Rose Cottage without fear of interruption.
Immediately, I discarded the idea. He hadn’t been the ideal father, but it was impossible to believe he’d physically harm me. Even Adeline had said, Frank was never violent. I wondered what had happened to change her mind. Or was she merely trying to shake information loose from her detested ex-brother-in-law by shocking him into a confession?
“That seems a little far-fetched,” I said.
“See?” Frank made a gesture. “Even Verity doesn’t believe your nonsense.”
Tilting my head, I gave him a curious glance. “It is odd that an unknown person would suddenly crash a car into Emy’s bakery and then run off.”
Adeline asked me in a low tone, “The police haven’t found him?”
“Not yet.”
She harrumphed again. “In such a tiny village? He couldn’t have escaped that easily. Somebody helped him.”
My voice was equally low as I bent my head nearer to hers. “How?”
“Gave him a ride. Probably waited for him.”
I nodded slowly. “But why?”
“I’m still here,” Frank said in an exasperated tone.
Adeline raised her voice. “And yet, you haven’t said anything relevant. This is a family emergency, and, unfortunately, you’re family. But don’t push it.”
“Thanks,” he said drily.
“If you’re so anxious to say something—speak up already. Do you think it was a deliberate attack?”
He twisted away. “It’s possible—”
My aunt slapped a palm on the arm of her chair. “I knew it.”
Frank ignored her air of triumph. “It’s possible,” he repeated, “that somebody targeted you, Verity, to scare me off.” He raised a warning hand when my aunt opened her mouth. “It’s possible. I don’t know for certain that it’s true.”
“And who would this ‘somebody’ be?” she asked.
“I can’t tell you that.”
The air in the room had turned f
rigid, so I tried a note of caution. “The police believe a joyrider stole the vehicle from a parking garage in Strathcona.”
“And drove it all the way to Leafy Hollow before smashing it into a storefront? Emy’s storefront? While you were inside?” Aunt Adeline inclined her head.
It did seem quite a coincidence when she put it like that.
Frank leaned in, his tone urgent. “If you’d just let me search—”
That was when the penny dropped—along with my jaw. “Somebody else wants this bequest you’re searching for. Enough to crash a car into a storefront to scare me into handing it over.”
“Now who’s getting ahead of themselves?” Adeline asked in a low voice.
“Verity’s right. It’s possible,” Frank said in a dejected tone.
Adeline swiveled her head with cobra-like intensity. “What did you say?”
Shrugging, he looked away.
“What did you say?” my aunt thundered.
“Coffee?”
Gideon stood in the doorway, bearing a tray with steaming mugs and slapped-together ham and cheese sandwiches. Not a moment too soon. If the collective blood sugar in that room had dropped any lower, we’d have been at each other’s throats.
He set the tray on the coffee table, and we all leaned in—after elbowing Boomer out of the way.
After a few moments of sipping coffee and munching bread, I put my half-drained mug on the table and straightened.
Adeline mimicked my movements, regarding me expectantly.
Frank continued to placidly sip his coffee, although his gaze flicked nervously over the rim of his mug from Adeline to me and back again.
Gideon, who had taken the remaining seat on the sofa, placidly stroked the little terrier’s ears. Boomer had enthusiastically jumped onto his lap—ostensibly because he loved Gideon so much, but really, I suspected, so he could keep an eye on the sandwich platter. Occasionally, he whimpered, obviously confused about why that food was not in his stomach yet.
“Settle down, Boomer,” I said, raising my eyebrows at Frank.
He placed his mug on the table. “I’ve told you everything I can.”
“Not good enough,” Adeline said.
Frank glanced at Gideon, perhaps hoping for a little male support and camaraderie. Gideon merely tweaked Boomer’s ears while giving his full attention to Adeline. Their united front was a given. Even though they’d never fully owned up to their past exploits, I suspected Gideon had as much experience repelling criminal activity as my aunt did. Frank wouldn’t find an ally there.
