An Ale of Two Cities

by Sarah Fox

  I held on to the railing with my gloved hand as I carefully made my way up the frosty steps. I’d almost reached the top of the stairway when I paused, listening. I could hear voices coming from Mel’s apartment. One belonged to Mel. I wasn’t positive about the other, but I thought it was Jade’s voice.

  “That’s a false alibi,” Mel said. Her voice was muffled by the door between us, but her words were still clear enough to make out. “And they’ll know it’s false, because it doesn’t match up with what I told them.”

  I hesitated with one foot on the top step, wondering if I should retreat and return another time. I probably should have left, but the words “false alibi” had me frozen to the spot, waiting to hear more.

  “I was trying to help,” Jade said, sounding close to tears.

  “I know you were, but it hasn’t helped. It’s made things worse for both of us. You should have told the truth.”

  Jade said something I couldn’t hear.

  “I think you should go back to the manor,” Mel said, over what I thought was the sound of Jade crying.

  That was my cue to leave or get caught eavesdropping.

  As quietly as possible, I backed down the stairs. I’d only made it halfway down when the door to Mel’s apartment opened. Jade stepped out onto the balcony, zipping up her form-hugging black jacket. She had tears on her cheeks, and when she glanced up and saw me, she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand.

  She pulled on a pair of gloves and then hurried down the stairs.

  “Excuse me,” she said quietly as she squeezed past me.

  I watched her hurry off down the alley and then glanced up to see Mel standing in the open doorway, frowning.

  “Is this a bad time?” I asked.

  Mel’s frown eased up, although she didn’t quite smile. “No. Come on in.”

  I knocked the snow off my boots before stepping inside the door. Mel shut it behind me as I rubbed my gloved hands together, chilled from those few moments spent standing on the stairway.

  “Come and sit down,” Mel said as she headed toward the small kitchen to the left of the entryway.

  “Are you sure?” I felt a bit awkward about overhearing part of her conversation with Jade. “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “You’re not intruding.” Mel smiled before opening a cupboard. “I’ve got coffee.”

  That was enough to make up my mind. I wiggled my feet out of my boots and hung my coat and scarf on a hook by the door, stuffing my hat and gloves into one of my coat pockets. By the time I pulled out a chair at Mel’s small kitchen table, she’d filled two mugs with steaming hot coffee.

  I liked Mel’s kitchen. It was small, and hadn’t been updated in a long time, but the bright blue cupboards gave the room a cheery atmosphere.

  “Is Jade okay?” I asked as Mel set cream and sugar on the table.

  “I’m not really sure how to answer that.” Mel took the seat across from me and poured a bit of cream into her mug. “She’s shocked by Freddy’s murder, but she wasn’t close to him. I don’t think anyone was. But the police . . .”

  I stirred cream and sugar into my coffee. “They obviously didn’t arrest her. That’s a good thing, right?”

  “They haven’t arrested her yet,” Mel amended.

  “You think they will?”

  She leaned back in her chair, one hand wrapped loosely around her mug. “Last night when the police questioned her, she told them she was with me between the time she left the town hall and a few minutes before you found Freddy.”

  “But she wasn’t,” I said. Even if I hadn’t overheard anything, Mel’s current demeanor would have told me I was right.

  “No, not the whole time. But after she left the town hall she did come to see me.”

  “On the green?”

  Mel nodded. “She was upset, crying. Freddy had fired her and she wanted to leave town, but she didn’t have any transportation. Freddy hired a driver to bring them both to Shady Creek, and he wasn’t scheduled to take them back to Boston until this morning. I convinced her to spend the night in town, but she didn’t want to go back to Shady Creek Manor, where she had a room booked. She asked if she could crash at my place. I walked her over here, got her a pillow and some blankets to use on the couch, and then left. I stopped by my studio to get a tool Zoe couldn’t find earlier when she picked up my spares. Then I went back to the green to work on my sculpture. A few minutes later, I heard you yelling for help.”

  “So right before Freddy was killed, you were both alone for . . . how long?”

  Mel stared into her coffee. “It was probably fifteen minutes from the time I left my place to when I got back to the green.”

  “So neither of you has an alibi.”

  “No,” Mel confirmed. “And the cops know Jade lied because I’d already told them the truth about leaving her at my place and going to my studio. I’m sure they think she was trying to cover up for me or herself.”

  “What’s the real reason?” I asked.

  “She had a motive for wanting Freddy dead and the cops think I did too. She wanted to keep us both off the suspect list.”

  Instead, she’d probably bumped their names right to the top.

  Chapter 11

  When I left Mel’s place, I went straight to the salon. Aunt Gilda and Betty both had clients when I arrived, but it looked as though those appointments were in their final stages.

  “Why don’t you get yourself something hot to drink?” Aunt Gilda suggested over the sound of the hairdryer Betty was using. “You look like you could use it.”

  The walk from Mel’s apartment had left me chilled to the bone—again—so despite the coffee I’d just had, I took Gilda up on her offer. There was a small table in the salon’s waiting area with coffee, tea, and a selection of mismatched cups and saucers. I poured myself a cup of tea and checked out the snacks. Instead of forgotten cookies, today there was a plate of Aunt Gilda’s gingerbread on the table. I helped myself to one of those as well, and then another. Gingerbread was my favorite holiday treat.

  Aunt Gilda was straightening her client’s hair with a flat iron, but she finished up shortly after I’d settled into a chair with my tea and cookies.

  “What have you been up to this morning?” she asked once her client had paid and disappeared out the door into the cold.

  “I visited Mel, but that’s all I’ve done so far.” I set my teacup on the coffee table beside a stack of magazines and joined my aunt across the room where she was sweeping up hair clippings. “She’s a suspect in Freddy’s murder,” I said quietly.

  Aunt Gilda halted midsweep. “What in the world?” She glanced at Betty’s client, a woman in her fifties, who was in the midst of paying for her haircut. When the woman had left the salon seconds later, Gilda continued. “Why would Mel want to kill Freddy Mancini?”

  “Mel killed him?” Betty sounded shocked as she came out from behind the counter.

  “No, of course not,” I said. “But she’s a suspect. He trash-talked her to some of the reporters and he was her main competition. Plus, the ice pick used to kill Freddy belongs to her. Someone stole her tools earlier in the evening, but the cops might think she set that up because she planned to kill Freddy.”

  “If she’d planned to kill him, she wouldn’t have used her own ice pick,” Betty said. “Mel’s smarter than that.”

  “She is,” I agreed. “But the cops don’t know that.”

  Aunt Gilda continued sweeping. “It doesn’t sound good for her, but her supposed motive isn’t that strong. Surely there are others who had far more reason to kill him.”

  “I think so,” I said. “But it doesn’t help that Freddy’s assistant lied and said she and Mel were together when Freddy was killed. She told the police that after Mel had told them the truth—they were both on their own for a while around the time of the murder.”

  “Freddy’s assistant?” Betty said. “Why would Mel have been with her?”

  I explained about t
heir history and how Jade had asked to crash at Mel’s place after Freddy fired her.

  “That’s not good,” Aunt Gilda said as she discarded the swept-up hair clippings. “What if the police believe she still has feelings for Jade? They might think she has an additional motive—revenge on behalf of Jade after Freddy fired her.”

  “I know,” I said glumly. “That had occurred to me too.”

  “What about Jade?” Betty asked. “Do you think she might have killed Freddy?”

  “Mel doesn’t think so,” I said. “But I’m not ready to rule her out.”

  Aunt Gilda tucked a lock of my red hair behind my ear. “Let the police take care of it, honey. I don’t want you in any danger. I’m still shaken up from what happened to you back in October.”

  There were times when I still felt shaken up too, especially when I woke up from nightmares caused by my run-in with a murderer in the fall.

  I gave my aunt a quick hug. “I’m not planning to do anything dangerous.”

  Aunt Gilda didn’t look entirely convinced. She was about to say something when the bell above the salon’s door jingled.

  “Good morning, April,” she called to the bundled-up woman who stepped inside.

  “Do you know where I can find Penny Blaine?” I asked quickly, knowing I didn’t have much time before April O’Hare took her spot in my aunt’s chair.

  “She works at Sibyl’s yarn store across the green,” Betty said before Aunt Gilda could answer.

  “Sibyl as in Sibyl Hawkes?” I asked.

  “That’s her,” Aunt Gilda confirmed. “Now, Sadie . . .”

  “My hair’s an absolute fright in this cold weather,” April O’Hare said as she bustled over our way.

  “Don’t worry,” I rushed to assure my aunt. “I just want to talk to her.”

  I didn’t think I’d succeeded in reassuring her, but she got April settled at the hair-washing station and turned on the water. I drank down the last of my tea and took the cup into the small kitchenette in the back before getting all bundled up again.

  I called out a cheery good-bye and waved as I ventured out into the cold, nibbling on another piece of gingerbread. I hesitated out front of the salon, half turning to go back inside. Part of me wanted to tell Aunt Gilda about the books that had gone missing from the Inkwell. She’d understand why I was so upset. But now she was busy chatting with April, and it wasn’t something I wanted to talk about in front of anyone else.

  Not wanting to let my spirits slump, I tried to push the missing books from my thoughts and crossed Sycamore Street to the village green. I took the opportunity to admire the ice sculptures in daylight while listening to a group of carolers singing the “Coventry Carol.” They were dressed in Victorian outfits and I envied the women their cozy muffs.

  As I snapped a few photos of the ice sculptures and carolers, I spotted a familiar figure across the green.

  “Booker!” I called out, shoving my phone into my pocket.

  Wearing a thick winter jacket and a hat pulled down over his shoulder-length braids, Booker was almost as bundled up as I was. All he was missing was a scarf.

  “Morning, Sadie,” he said as he came over my way. “Mel’s sculpture is wicked good.”

  “It really is,” I agreed.

  “She definitely deserved to win.”

  I pulled my scarf up over my chin. “Has Damien talked to you about the hockey tournament yet?”

  “No. What about it?”

  “We decided the Inkwell should have a team. Do you play hockey?”

  “Nope. I can’t even skate. If we were talking football, soccer, or baseball, there’d be no problem, but skating . . . You might as well ask me to fly.”

  “Darn,” I said with disappointment.

  “Sorry. Is there anyone else you can ask?”

  “Maybe.” I was already sorting through the possibilities in my mind.

  As I parted ways with Booker, I texted Cordelia, asking if she was interested in joining the team. By then, my fingers and toes were going numb, so I headed over to Purls of Wisdom on Hemlock Street. I hadn’t been in the yarn store before. Although Aunt Gilda had taught me how to knit when I was ten, I’d never been very good at it. I could make a lumpy scarf if necessary, but I hadn’t picked up a set of knitting needles in several years.

  Even though knitting had never become a real hobby of mine, I couldn’t help but admire the store as soon as I stepped inside. It was cozy and warm, as I’d hoped it would be, and the shelves were bursting with color. I wiped my feet on the mat inside the door and pulled off my gloves, unable to keep myself from fingering the soft balls of yarn on the nearest shelf.

  “Good morning!” Sibyl Hawkes called out as she approached from the back of the store where several women were sitting around a table, working on knitting projects.

  “Morning,” I returned.

  “It’s Sadie, right?” She continued on before I could confirm that. “The trivia night at the pub was such a blast. Will you have more in the future?”

  “I’m hoping to,” I said. “I’m so glad you had a good time. And I was very impressed by your team’s knowledge.”

  “Many of us knitters are avid readers,” Sibyl said with a smile. “Now, is there anything I can help you with?”

  “Actually, I was just going to have a look around, if that’s all right.”

  I glanced at the women around the table. Penny was standing next to one of them, guiding her through a stitch.

  “It’s absolutely fine,” Sybil assured me. “Don’t worry about the class. We often have them going on while the store’s open. Feel free to browse all you like.”

  A phone rang over on the checkout counter.

  “Let me know if you need any help,” Sibyl said before hurrying over to the phone.

  I wandered slowly from shelf to shelf, fingering the balls of yarn and admiring the gorgeous colors. Every now and then I shot a sidelong glance toward the back of the store, wondering if I’d have a chance to talk to Penny. After ten minutes or so, I was about to give up and head back to the Inkwell when Penny’s students pushed back their chairs and began packing up their projects.

  I pretended to be interested in some unspun, braided fleece near the class table as the students slowly made their way out of the store, chatting with each other as they pulled on their winter gear. One woman stayed behind to speak with Penny for a few minutes, but eventually she too headed for the door.

  Penny made a circuit of the table, pushing the chairs in, but I managed to catch her eye.

  “Do you need any help?” she asked me.

  “I’m just browsing, really,” I said. “But I did want to offer my condolences to you.”

  “Condolences?” she echoed with confusion.

  “I understand you were close to Freddy Mancini.”

  A dark shadow seemed to pass across her brown eyes. When she spoke again, there was an edge to her voice. “At one time, but not for many years.” Her gaze sharpened. “You were the one who found his body.”

  “That’s right.”

  Penny tucked the last chair under the table. “In that case, you’re probably deserving of more sympathy than I am.” When she saw the surprise on my face, she explained, “It might sound terrible, but I had no affection left for Freddy. Not even a drop. He didn’t treat me well in the past or in the present.” The shadow returned to darken her eyes again. Her hands tightened around the back of the chair she’d pushed under the table, her knuckles turning white. “Freddy was a self-absorbed, arrogant jerk.”

  The bitterness in her voice startled me. I’d known that Freddy had treated her badly on the day of his death, but after seeing her in tears at the Inkwell, I hadn’t expected such anger from her. The other day she seemed much more hurt than wrathful. But maybe that hurt had since transformed.

  Penny released her grip on the chair and forced a smile. “Sorry. It probably seems insensitive to talk about him like that now that he’s dead, but he really wasn’t a good
man.”

  “That seems to be the general opinion of him,” I said. “And I got to observe that myself at the chili supper.”

  “I heard he clashed with Leo there. That’s what happened pretty much every time they crossed paths, especially since the Boston incident three years ago.”

  “Boston incident?” I asked with interest.

  “Leo had lost his job here in town, so he went to Boston and asked Freddy to let him work at his restaurant. He was even willing to work as a dishwasher. But Freddy told him he wasn’t sophisticated enough to set foot in his restaurant, let alone work there.”

  “Wow.”

  “Right? They didn’t get along all that well before, but ever since there’s been nothing but hatred between them.”

  All the more reason for Leo to be on my suspect list, I decided. I’d already known that he had no love for his half brother, but now I had to consider the possibility that Leo had wanted revenge. Maybe when Freddy showed up in Shady Creek, lording his success over everyone, it was all too much for Leo. Of course, Penny was one of my suspects too. How quickly had her hurt feelings morphed into anger? Had it happened before Freddy’s death?

  I couldn’t forget the ball of burnt-orange yarn that had tumbled out of her bag at the pub.

  There was a good chance I was talking to Freddy’s killer right now.

  Swallowing back a nervous lump that had suddenly lodged in my throat, I decided to steer the conversation in a slightly different direction. “You didn’t make it to the chili supper yourself?” I asked casually.

  “No.” Penny straightened some balls of yarn on a shelf. “I had a headache, so I went to bed early that evening.” She finished fiddling with the yarn. “This is your first Winter Carnival, right? Didn’t you just move here a few months ago?”

  “In the summer,” I said.

  “I know the murder has put a damper on things, but I hope you’ll have a chance to enjoy the festivities. The carnival’s always good fun.”