by Reagan Davis
“Did Lin mention it when you were there doing a job?” I ask.
“No, she told me at dinner last night,” He looks up at me. “We’re dating. We had dinner last night when I got back into town.”
Another secret I’ve learned this week. I’ll have to remember to add it to the ever-growing list.
“The dating thing with Lin and me is kind of new. Not very many people know yet.”
“Well, I hope it works out, if that’s what you both want, and you’re happy together.”
“Thanks, Megan. I have to run to my truck for a few minutes. I’ll be back.”
Ryan hurries through the store and exits through the back door to the parking lot.
Seconds later, I hear the jingle above the door. Eric enters the store and closes the door behind him.
“Long time no see,” I say walking toward him. “Is this a business call or are you taking me up on my offer to teach you how to knit?”
I’m certain it’s the former and not the latter, but I’m trying to lighten the mood. He looks serious. His jaw is clenching and the muscles around his eyes are tense.
“We found Fred Murphy,” he says.
That’s a relief.
“Alive?” I ask.
“He was in the back of a rented cube van parked in front of 845 Mountain Road.”
Adam’s new office! The look on my face must have betrayed my shock because Eric asks if I’m familiar with that address. I sit on one of the chairs in the cozy area.
“Adam rented an office there. Last week. He’s not open for business yet, but he showed me around on Thursday.”
“Who else knows he rented an office there, and specifically, who knows you were there on Thursday?”
He pulls his notebook and pen from his breast pocket.
“Hannah, we FaceTimed with her while we were there. Lin, the receptionist. Connie and April. That’s it as far as I know. I’m not sure if Adam has told anyone.”
Then I remember!
“Oh! And Ryan Wright. He said Lin told him, apparently they’re dating.”
I don’t know how to ask delicately, but I need to know.
“Is Fred OK? I mean was he alive in the back of the cube van?”
Eric shakes his head and the sense of relief I felt disappears.
I sit in shock, twirling my ring while Eric writes in his notebook. The sound of the back-door closing breaks the silence.
“Hey, Detective Sloane,” Ryan greets Eric and gets back to work on the front door.
“Hello, Mr. Wright, how are you?” Eric responds.
I think I should make myself scarce, so Eric and Ryan can talk privately.
“I’m just slipping out for a minute to pick up a snack.”
I flip the sign on the door from OPEN to CLOSED so they won’t be interrupted while I’m gone. “Would either of you like anything?”
They both decline my offer. I leave through the front door and speed walk to Artsy Tartsy.
April is behind the counter serving a customer. I glare at her with my eyes as wide as I can open them. April widens her eyes to match mine and calls to Tamara who comes out of the office, closes the door behind her, and joins April behind the counter. April finishes cashing out her customer, and we all watch as he leaves.
Even though the bakery is empty, I stand on my tippy toes and lean over the counter as far as I can. April and Tamara both lean toward me until our faces are only inches apart.
“They found Fred. He’s dead. He was at Adam’s new office. In the back of a rented cube van,” I say, barely above a whisper.
I tell them I only have a few minutes because I lied about going to get a snack, so I could fill them in and leave Eric and Ryan alone in the store to talk.
With no time to waste, we start brainstorming. Who killed Fred? How did he die? Why did the killer choose that address? To implicate Adam or me? Maybe he killed himself? Maybe he couldn’t live with what he’d done? Maybe he found out who the real killer was and was murdered, so he couldn’t expose them? Fred was our number one suspect, and now it feels like we’re back at square one.
“Maybe there are two killers,” April suggests. “Maybe Fred killed Paul, and Fred’s murder is revenge.”
Her commitment to believing Fred murdered Paul is strong.
“Paul didn’t have a lot of friends. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of anyone who would kill to avenge his death,” Tamara points out.
“But he has a grieving widow,” I say.
I tell April and Tamara that Ryan knows about Adam’s new office because of his relationship with Lin, and that he was away all weekend working.
“Ryan’s alibis aren’t always rock solid,” April reminds me.
“He’s dating Lin, though, and seems to like her, so why would he leave a dead body outside her office?” I check the time on my phone. “I have to get back.”
“These will make your snack mission look real,” Tamara says, handing me a bag of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.
I speed walk back toward Knitorious, stop two stores away from the shop, and pull my phone out of my pocket. With the bag of cookies in one hand, I use my free hand to text Adam.
Me: They found Fred at your new office. He’s dead.
Eric looks up when he hears the jingle above the door. He closes his notebook and clicks his pen closed. I see Ryan working at the back door, and it looks like he’s just finishing up. I turn the sign from CLOSED to OPEN and offer Eric a cookie. He declines. Freak. Who says no to a freshly baked oatmeal chocolate chip cookie?
Ryan comes into the store and hands me the new keys and an invoice. I offer him a cookie, and he happily takes one. He says goodbye to Eric and me, picks up his toolbox, and leaves through the back door. I follow him as he leaves and lock the door behind him, being sure to also lock the barrel-lock. Just in case.
I get the feeling Eric is waiting to get me alone so he can ask me more questions.
“Where were you on Friday night, Megan?”
I knew it.
I tell him about my girl’s night with Connie and recommend the show we watched.
Does his question mean that Fred’s been dead since Friday night? Or is that the last time anyone saw him? Today is Tuesday. We found out Fred was missing on Sunday, so what’s the significance of Friday night?
“Where was Adam while you were having a girl’s night?”
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask Adam.” I shrug. “I told you, we don’t really monitor each other’s whereabouts anymore.”
Where were you Adam? All I can think about is his lack of reaction when I told him Fred was missing.
“Why is Friday night important?” I ask him.
“The coroner estimates Mr. Murphy’s time of death to be sometime between Friday night and Saturday morning. Hopefully he’ll narrow it down even more when he conducts the autopsy today.”
That was way more of a response than I was expecting. Or that I’m used to from Eric. Let’s see if he keeps it up.
“Did you find him today?” I ask, hoping he’s still feeling talkative.
“Last night, a local resident reported a suspicious abandoned cube van on Mountain Road. The caller reported first noticing it early Saturday morning.”
That doesn’t exactly answer my question, but it's still more information than I expected. I’m surprised news of another crime scene hasn't made its way all over town, and to the WSBA group chat by now. But Mountain Road is mostly commercial, so if this went down last night, after business hours, people might have already left their offices for the day.
Eric thanks me for my time. I offer him another cookie, which he declines because his willpower is obviously superhuman. We say goodbye, and he leaves through the front door.
Adam hasn’t responded to my text. I check again, and it says, Read, so I know he’s seen it. Where are you Adam? And more importantly, where were you on Friday night?
Chapter 28
It’s almost lunchtime when I hear a
knock at the back door of the shop. It’s Connie. She has an overnight bag in one hand, and Harlow’s kitty carrier in the other. I hold the door for her and notice a box on the ground outside the back door.
“That must be a delivery,” Connie observes. “I wish they’d use the front door when no one answers the back one. If there’s anyone else in the store, it’s almost impossible to hear a knock at the back door. Maybe we should put up a sign.”
I pick up the box and carry it to the counter in the store. It’s heavier than I expect. Our deliveries are usually yarn so even large boxes don’t weigh very much. Connie lets Harlow out of his case and puts her overnight bag on the apartment stairs.
“Funny delivery,” I comment to Connie. “There’s no shipping label on the box. No return address. Nothing. Are we expecting anything from a local dyer? Maybe it was dropped off.”
She shakes her head.
The box is taped shut, and KNITORIOUS is scrawled across the top in black marker. I grab the letter opener from the cup of pens beside the cash register and slice the tape open.
Inside the box is a rock. A familiar rock. I’ve seen this rock somewhere before. Connie peeks inside the box, but neither of us pick up the grey, heart-shaped rock. Harlow is rubbing his head against the open flaps of the box and tries to jump inside with the rock. Connie picks him up and cuddles him. He purrs but keeps pulling away from her and toward the box, so Connie takes him into the kitchenette and gives him some kitty treats to distract him.
“Why would someone send us a rock?” she asks.
We’re both a bit shaken by the weird delivery. This rock is familiar. Where have I seen it before? It’s on the tip of my brain, but I can’t quite place it. I move the box to the coffee table in the sitting area, where we both sit on the sofa, and resume staring at it.
Connie asks me if I’ve heard about Fred—and that’s when it comes to me!
“This is the rock Kelly uses to keep the back door open at Hairway to Heaven!” I shout, like I’m shouting the winning answer on a TV game show.
Connie and I look more closely at the rock without touching it. It’s grey with a few streaks of darker grey, and on one edge, there are rust-coloured blotches.
“Connie, I think this could be blood. I don’t remember these blotches when I saw this rock the night Paul died.”
Connie walks to the front door, turns the OPEN sign to CLOSED, locks the door, picks up her phone, and calls Eric. I take out my phone and snap a few photos of the rock and the box.
Eric looks at the rock and nods. This somehow makes sense to him.
“This is another murder weapon, isn’t it?” I ask. “Was Fred murdered by chance? Maybe by a hit to the head?”
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he starts asking questions.
He asks what time we noticed the box. I told him what time I opened the door for Connie. Before that, the last person to use that door was Ryan, when he left about two hours before.
No, Connie says, she didn’t see any people or vehicles behind the store when she returned.
No, I didn’t hear anything strange from the parking lot, and no one knocked at the door, that I heard.
No, the store doesn’t have surveillance video.
No, we don’t think Wilde Flowers has surveillance video either. In fact, we don’t think any of the businesses on Water Street have surveillance video. Well, maybe Charmed & Dangerous, the jeweler, but they’re way up the street.
Eric calls for another officer to come and collect the rock and the box it arrived in.
He tells us he’s also having the back door dusted for prints, “just in case,” then he goes outside and retrieves crime scene tape from the trunk of his car which is parked in front of the store. He uses the tape to block access to the parking lot so cars can’t come or go. Then he tapes the area around the back door so no one will touch it or the doorknob.
We watch him go next door to Wilde Flowers. Knitorious shares a driveway and parking lot with Wilde Flowers, so we presume he’s going to ask Phillip if he noticed the box, or any people, or cars in the parking lot today.
Standing in the store with Connie and the box, I feel a shiver travel down my spine. Why bring the murder weapon here? Was the killer hoping I’d touch it and leave my fingerprints on it? Is it a warning that I’m next? Is Fred’s killer and Paul’s killer the same person?
If there are two killers, it’s an odd coincidence that they would both send me something from the murder scene. I feel unsafe and can't shake the feeling someone is watching me. It’s horrible not knowing who in your small town is killing people and either trying frame you as the murderer or warn you that you’re next.
Connie suggests we leave the store closed for the rest of the day. Good idea, though it doesn’t seem like we have a choice anyway, since it’s basically a crime scene now.
A uniformed officer opens the front door and says he’s here to pick up the box and the rock. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Harlow gracefully and sneakily leap onto the table where the box is. Connie sees it too and scoops him up and away from the table before he can get into the box with the rock. He really wants that box. I offer to take Harlow up to Connie’s apartment where he can’t cause any trouble.
I take Harlow from her and pick up her overnight bag on my way up the stairs. I put Harlow and the bag in Connie’s apartment and close the door before he can bolt back downstairs.
I stop part way down the stairs and text Eric to ask if it’s OK to go home. I tell him I feel sick and don’t want to be here anymore today.
Then I text April and tell her about the latest murder weapon showing up at Knitorious and text her a couple of the photos. I tell her Knitorious is closed for the rest of the day, and I’m heading home.
Eric texts back and says I can leave. He says he’ll drive me. He didn’t ask if he could drive me, or if I’d like a drive, he told me he’s driving me home. I suspect he wants to speak to Adam before I get a chance to.
I ask Connie if she needs me to stay, and she says no, she’ll be fine, and Archie is on his way to keep her company. I tell her the new keys for the store are in the register, along with Ryan’s invoice.
Eric and I ride in silence to my house. Adam’s car is in the driveway.
I drop my keys on the table by the door and march right over to the dining room table, where Adam is doing whatever it is he does on his laptop.
“Why didn’t you respond to my text? I know you saw it!” I say urgently.
I’m almost shouting, not quite, but close.
“Oh, jeez, Meg! I’m sorry,” he says, smacking his forehead with his palm. “I did see it, but I was on the phone trying to arrange business insurance for the practice. By the time I hung up, I forgot to text you back.”
Really?! I text him that someone is dead, and it slips his mind to text me back?
Eric and I bring Adam up to date, and I show him the photos I took of the rock. He’s very quiet, he’s thinking.
“You took photos of the evidence?” Eric asks me.
I nod and show him the photos on my phone.
“Other than Connie and April, and now Adam, who else have you shown them to?” he asks.
He’s right, but I’m a little offended by his assumption, nonetheless.
“No one else,” I say.
“Where were you on Friday night, Adam?” I ask.
I need to know, and Eric would’ve asked him anyway.
“I was here until about 6 p.m., then I walked over to The Embassy for dinner. Friday is Fish and Chip night, halibut or haddock. I chose halibut. I ate, had a couple of pints, chatted with Sheamus about golf, and left after the Leaf’s preseason game ended. I got home around 10 p.m.?”
He snaps his fingers and looks at Eric.
“Phillip saw me, he was pulling into his driveway as I was walking to the front door. We said hello. He wanted to talk to me about the garden.”
He looks from Eric to me.
“He says you’re an over-wa
terer, Meg.”
I feel guilty thinking even for a minute that Adam might be responsible for what happened to Fred. The Adam I know isn’t capable of murder. At least I don’t think he is. I hope he isn’t.
Is he really incapable of murder, or do I want to believe he’s incapable of murder? Now I’m second-guessing myself. I feel exhausted, defeated, and confused.
I go into the family room alone and flop onto the sofa. Eric and Adam continue to talk in the dining room, and a few minutes later, Adam walks him to the door and Eric leaves.
“Meg, I think it’s time for us to lawyer-up.”
“Of course, you do,” I respond. “You’re a lawyer and lawyers always think that.”
I know a lawyer will limit Eric’s access to us, and what we can tell him, which would likely slow down the investigation. A lot. I also know that I have nothing to hide because I didn’t do anything.
“If you want to lawyer-up, go ahead,” I tell him. “I’m not doing anything that might slow down the investigation.
“Speaking of lawyers,” he says, “I’m supposed to go on my annual golf retreat tomorrow with the guys from law school, remember? Well, I emailed them and cancelled. I don’t feel comfortable being almost four hours away from home with all this going on, and I still have a lot to do if I’m going to be ready to open the practice in three weeks.”
What? I completely forgot that was happening this week. I stopped putting Adam’s events in my calendar weeks ago. No! He needs to go. I need him to go. We’ve been together way too much lately. I would have the house to myself for two glorious nights! This two-night retreat is the break we both need.
“No! Don’t do that,” I demand, waving both of my hands in front of me. “Email them back and tell them you’ll be there. You planned this months ago, and we’ve already paid for it.”
I’m trying to appeal to his sense of practicality.
Think, Megan, think! Give him all the reasons he should go.
“Listen, Adam, you’ve had a really hard couple of weeks. You left the firm, you’ve been blackmailed twice, attended a funeral, we’ve spent an uncomfortable amount of time together which has been stressful, we’re being investigated for murder, we’re still adjusting to Hannah being away at school, you’re trying to set up a new practice in less than thirty days…”
