Danger in Daffodil

by Pat Doyle

  I went outside where it was quiet so I could give Steve a call.

  “Steve, what's going on? I just ran into your parents, and they said you went up north to your cabin. What about helping me with this person that someone may have seen?”

  “Don't worry. I was just going to call you. I was waiting until the funeral was over. It's all set up. My hunting buddy is up here, and he's a part-time sketch artist for the police. Don't worry, he's not a policeman himself. He just does some freelance work for them, sketching suspects from eyewitness accounts. He promised me to keep this quiet.

  “I want you to come up here,” he continued. “Bring this person with you. My buddy can make a sketch of the person that he or she saw. Then I'll give the sketch to Andy when I get back. How does that sound?”

  “Steve, that's a great idea! Give me the address, and we'll drive up this afternoon.”

  “Okay, and meanwhile, don't tell anyone about this. The less people that know, the better. You didn't tell anyone else yet, did you?”

  “No, and I won't tell anyone. My friend doesn't want anyone to know either. I'm glad you came up with this plan. I owe you one, Steve.”

  “No problem. See you later.” He gave me directions to his cabin and then said goodbye.

  I went back inside the crowded church basement and found Joey again. I told him of Steve's plan, and he agreed that it was a good idea. We made arrangements to drive up to the cabin around 4 pm. By then, the burial would be over. It was only going to be family members at the burial, so I went home to get some rest.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Joey and I didn't actually get going to Steve's cabin until 5:30. Joey ended up having to sit around and chat with his relatives for a while. He couldn't just leave; it would have looked funny. I called Steve to let him know we would be there around 8:30 or 9:00. It was a three-hour drive, at least. I was glad that Joey was doing the driving. We stopped at Burger King to get a quick bite to eat in the car. On the way up, we discussed the case. Sad to say, we didn't come up with any new ideas.

  My cell phone rang. It was Michael.

  “Hi, Michael. What's up?”

  “Where are you?” He was always asking where I was when he called. Like he didn't trust me or something.

  “I'm on my way up to Steve's cabin. We have some business to discuss.”

  “It's kind of late to be going way up there. If I didn't have to work, I could have gone with you.”

  “That's okay. I'm fine. What did you call about?” I knew he didn't call just to say hello.

  “The police were just here at the theater again. You know that steak knife with the “E” stamped on it? The murder weapon?”

  “Yes...”

  “The police don't want anyone to know what the murder weapon was. They think maybe they can set a trap for the killer. I told them that you were the only person I told. You didn't tell anyone, did you?”

  “No, I didn't tell anyone,” I said. “But Steve knew about it. He mentioned it to me. But his cousin Andy is a cop. Andy must have let it slip.”

  “Hmm. Okay, gotta go.” And with that, Michael hung up. He wasn't one for chitchat.

  “Who was that?” Joey asked.

  “Oh, the manager of the theater where the murder happened. He had a message from the police. They don't want anyone to know what the murder weapon was.”

  “Well, I know from what you said that he was stabbed.”

  “That's okay, you don't know what he was stabbed with. And now I can't tell you,” I said, and I gave him an apologetic look.

  “That's okay. It really isn't important.”

  I must have fallen asleep shortly after that, because suddenly we were turning off the main road onto a small dirt road in a dark forest. I knew the cabin was a few miles off the main road. And sure enough, in a few minutes, we were there. The cabin was surrounded by tall pine trees. We really were up in the deep north woods. I hoped there wouldn't be too many mosquitoes around.

  We parked and started walking. The cabin was small and run down. As we approached, something didn't feel right to me.

  All of a sudden I remembered Michael's phone call, and the fact that Steve knew what the murder weapon was. I got an uneasy feeling. Would Andy really have told Steve such a crucial piece of information? Or could Steve be the murderer? My former boyfriend Steve? I couldn't believe that. This was a guy I knew, and once loved. He couldn't be a murderer.

  But then I remembered Violet at the funeral, saying that Steve blamed Dr. Parnell for his friend Tom's death. He was so upset about it that he wouldn't even come to the funeral. That could be a motive for murder. Could Steve really be a killer? I didn't think so, but I guess I wasn't sure anymore.

  I grabbed Joey's arm. “Stop! Let's not go in.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have a bad feeling...”

  I couldn't finish. Steve was suddenly behind us on the path, not in the cabin at all. And he had a gun! A real gun, not his hunting rifle, and it was pointed right at Joey and me!

  “Steve, what the heck?”

  “Stop right there,” he said. “Turn around slowly and stand with your back to the cabin wall. Put your hands up.”

  “Oh my God,” said Joey. “That's him! That's the guy I saw behind the theater. I'm sure of it.”

  Steve moved the gun from one of us to the other. “Just stay back,” he said. “Back against the wall, and keep your hands up.”

  We did what he said, but I still couldn't believe it. “Steve, what is this? What is going on? Why were you at the theater? And why are you pointing a gun at us?”

  “He must be the killer!” Joey said. “And now he's going to kill us so we don't talk.”

  “Your friend is smart. Just don't get any brilliant ideas. Stay back by the wall. I don't want to shoot you – it has to look like an accident. But if I have to shoot you, I will. I'll figure out how to explain it.” I didn't recognize Steve. I had never seen that look on his face before. Determined... angry... crazy.

  I thought I better keep Steve talking while we figured out what to do.

  “Steve, why did you kill Dr. Parnell?”

  “He killed my buddy Tom. He deserved it. I wasn't going to let him kill any more innocent people.”

  “He didn't kill him on purpose, Steve. And maybe you killed him by accident too. Just stop and think. You don't want to kill anyone else, do you?”

  “I have to kill you. Otherwise I'll go to prison. My parents will never be able to stand it. It will kill them for sure. So I'm sorry, Ginger, but I have to do it. My parents will never know. Neither will anyone else. It will look like an accident. A car accident.”

  “Where's your buddy? The sketch artist?” Maybe he could save us, I thought.

  “He doesn't exist. I invented him to get you up here. I wanted you to come up here where it's quiet. No people around to interfere. It's just you and me here, so you better do what I say.” He nodded meaningfully at his gun.

  “So Andy didn't tell you about the steak knife. You knew about it because you were the killer!” I exclaimed.

  “I didn't talk to Andy at all,” Steve said. “Do you think I would want to involve the police in this?”

  Oh God. So no one knew we were here at all. It didn't look good for us. My knees were shaking and I felt faint.

  “Why did you use a steak knife from Ed's?” I didn't really care, but I wanted to keep him talking and occupied.

  He smiled at that. “I was helping Tammy fix her porch. I stole one from her house when she wasn't looking. They always suspect the ex-wife anyway. This way they would suspect her even more.”

  How diabolical. He deliberately threw suspicion onto an innocent woman. I couldn't believe this was the Steve I knew. And to think I had suspected poor Tammy myself.

  I tried to keep him talking some more. I didn't know what else to do. “How did you even know Dr. Parnell was at the theater?” I asked.

  “Oh, my parents told me. They were sitting in his waiting room, w
aiting for my father's appointment with him, when he stormed out the door, saying he was going to the movies. I couldn't believe it when my parents came home and told me. How irresponsible. He didn't care that my father had an appointment; he just left. I knew then that I couldn't let him continue. He could have killed my father next. And who knows who else? He wasn't fit to be a doctor. HE was the killer. I was just doing what I had to do.”

  Steve was delusional, I saw. He thought he was doing the world a favor by getting rid of a killer doctor. He probably would explain killing Joey and me to himself as a good thing too, somehow. I didn't know what could save us now. It seemed we were doomed.

  I didn't realize it, but as we were talking, Joey was edging us toward the corner of the cabin. Suddenly he pushed me around the corner and jumped after me.

  “Run, Ginger!” he yelled.

  Steve was right after us. He shot Joey in the leg, and Joey went down screaming. “Don't wait for me, Ginger. Run!”

  I didn't want to leave Joey there, but I had to get help, or Steve would kill us both. I ran as fast as I could, weaving between the pine trees. How would I find help, way out here in the boonies?

  I could hear Steve crashing through the underbrush toward me. At least that meant he left Joey alone. He probably knew that Joey couldn't go anywhere with his wounded leg. But that meant he was after me, and I would have to run fast.

  Then I heard a shot, and Steve went down, dropping his gun. Suddenly we were surrounded by police officers, and one of them had a gun trained on Steve, who was wounded. A couple of other officers were giving first aid to Joey. They said his wound wasn't too serious. He would be okay.

  I sank to the ground in relief. “How did you know we were here?” I asked the officers.

  “Your friend Michael called the police in Daffodil. When he told them that Steve here knew what the murder weapon was, they knew he was the killer, and dangerous. Luckily you told Michael you were on your way to Steve's cabin. The Daffodil police called us up here and told us the situation. We're from the police department closest to this cabin. They got the address of the cabin from Steve's parents. We got here as quickly as we could. We silenced the sirens when we got close, since we didn't know what kind of a situation you were in here.”

  “Thank you so much, officers. We can't thank you enough. If it wasn't for you, we'd be dead for sure. Steve was trying to kill us so we wouldn't tell what we knew.”

  “You'll have to thank your friend Michael. It was his quick response that saved you. He called the Daffodil police as soon as he got off the phone with you.”

  EPILOGUE

  Everything turned out okay. Except for Steve, of course. He'll be in prison for a long time. And I feel bad for his parents. But they didn't die from the shock. They went on with their lives, sadder, but as well as could be expected.

  I still couldn't believe it that Steve was a murderer. It just goes to show, you never really know what people are capable of.

  I did end up breaking up with Michael. Not that day. I was too thankful that day to do anything but thank him over and over. But a few days later, we went out for dinner, and I told him. He didn't seem too surprised. Maybe he felt things had run their course too. At least there were no hard feelings between us.

  Joey recovered fully from his leg wound. I was so glad. As soon as his leg healed, he headed back to Colorado. He was just in town for a visit, after all. Sure, he flirted with me, but it was nothing serious. You know you can't depend on those cute bad boys to stick around.

  As for me, I learned a ton about detecting and solving a murder. Especially what not to do. Never go to a remote area to meet a suspect. I didn't know he was a suspect at the time, of course. So another thing I learned is to suspect everybody. But I haven't lost my faith in human nature. And I still want to write mysteries. I can't wait for my next adventure, this time as a single lady!

  THE END

  Thank you for reading. This is the first book of the Daffodil Cozy Mystery Series.

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  About the Author

  Pat Doyle loves writing cozy mysteries. Her current series is set in Wisconsin, where she spent 40 years of her life. Pat worked in IT for many years, until she decided that she liked reading cozy mysteries very much and wanted to start writing them.

  Pat grew up as a US Military Brat in France and Germany. She moved to Wisconsin at age 18 and attended Marquette University, where she majored in Mathematics.

  In between writing mysteries, Pat loves to travel and do acrylic painting. She now lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

  You can find Pat online at https://patdoyle.com/, or sign up for her newsletter and find out when new books are coming out at https://patdoyle.com/get-email-updates/.