The front of the police station looked the same as it had the last time Lydia had stopped in here, with beige walls, brown carpet, and that unmistakable décor that screamed “government agency.” Sergeant Gonzales sat behind the desk on the right.
Huh. Seemed that the bright blue plush toy belonged to him. Somehow, Lydia had thought it was the other officer’s. Had it been given to him by one of his kids?
“Can I help you?” the sergeant asked as Lydia came walking in.
“Is Detective Avery here?” Lydia asked. They hadn’t given him a desk out here. Maybe he worked in a room in the back. Or maybe he was somewhere else, detecting.
The Sergeant considered her request for a moment. “What is this about?”
“I wanted to tell him about a strange occurrence,” Lydia said.
Lydia regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth. She could tell that Sergeant Gonzales was trying to contain an eye roll. How many others had come in here, demanding to see the detective, with the same sort of flimsy excuse?
“Why don’t you just tell me about it?” Sergeant Gonzales said. He smiled at her. Or at least he tried to. He wasn’t a man who was comfortable with the softer side of his emotions, that was obvious.
“Can’t I tell you both at once?” Lydia countered. “That way I won’t have to repeat myself and I can get back to the B&B.”
The Sergeant pressed his lips tightly together, giving him more of a thoughtful appearance instead of his usual scowl. He appeared to be weighing the eventual outcome. After all, Lydia could have waited until she saw the detective later on that evening at the B&B. That she’d come here might mean what she had to say was important.
“All right, let me see if he’s available,” the sergeant said eventually.
“Thank you,” Lydia said, as she prepared to wait. She understood his careful wording left him with the option of coming back without the detective, in case Ellis decided he really was too busy to see her.
However, Lydia didn’t have to wait for long, as both the sergeant and Ellis came walking out into the front of the station.
“What is it?” Ellis asked. He smiled at her, as if he was happy to see her. Not just a detective thing, but as a man.
Lydia was glad that she didn’t blush, because that smile promised all sorts of danger.
“My ex, Neil Roswell, is in town,” she said, nodding at Sergeant Gonzales. “Don’t know if you remember him or not.”
“Quarterback of the high school football team, wasn’t he?” the sergeant said. “We won state that year, because of him,” he said, explaining to Detective Avery.
“Yes, anyway,” Lydia said, trying to move the conversation beyond Neil’s glory days. She’d heard far too much about them. “He’s been spotted in town. Both at Patrice’s bakery, as well as at Guadalupe’s ice cream shop. At the same time!”
The two men looked at each other. “I’m not sure I understand the significance,” Ellis said.
“The person at the ice cream shop introduced himself as Neil Roswell to Guadalupe,” Lydia said. “But Patrice knows Neil on sight. So how can he be in two places at once? Someone is impersonating him!”
“Why would they do that?” Ellis said.
“To throw suspicion on him!” Lydia said. “Isn’t it obvious? The killer must be the second Neil!”
Ellis nodded. “I see,” he said. “Did Neil have a grudge against Schooner Thomas?”
“Yes,” Lydia said. “A big one. Schooner Thomas wouldn’t write any letters of recommendation for Neil, for college. He didn’t get into his first few college picks. He always blamed Schooner for that.”
“When did you say he was first spotted?” Ellis asked, pulling a notebook out of his pocket.
“Last week,” Lydia admitted.
“So before the murder,” Sergeant Gonzales said.
“Yes,” Lydia said slowly. “But it might not have been the real Neil. It might have been the imposter.”
Both officers merely looked at her. Lydia could tell that at least the sergeant wanted to roll his eyes at her, possibly Ellis as well.
“He cannot be two places at once,” Lydia insisted. She knew her ex. And he had absolutely no special abilities.
“You’re right, that is an oddity,” Ellis said eventually. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
Lydia knew she was being dismissed. Would anyone look into it further? Probably not. She wanted to suggest that Sergeant Gonzales could go and interview Guadalupe while the detective went to see Patrice. But they obviously had more important things to do than to actually investigate.
“Fine,” she said. She didn’t storm out of the police department. Not quite.
Instead, she walked out like a woman with a mission.
The detective probably considered Neil a suspect. Or something stupid like that. But Lydia was not one of those idiotic women who lived with a serial killer for decades and never suspected a thing.
No, she was going to have to find the real Neil, then prove that the idiot didn’t kill Schooner Thomas.
It was the only way to make sure she would be able to sleep at night.
Lydia tried to enjoy the warm sunshine outside as she stalked up and down the streets of downtown Lake Hope, searching for Neil. It only left her sweating more. Her stomach clenched as if she hadn’t eaten anything, which, okay, maybe she’d kind of skipped eating because of gas and everything.
She found herself staring at any many who was the right height and had dark hair. Was that Neil? The guy holding hands with a much taller woman? Or the guy over there, walking with three other bros who all looked like wannabe hipsters?
Who was the imposter? Where was the real Neil?
Lydia nearly jumped out of her skin when her phone chimed. But it was just Misty texting her, letting her know that Guadalupe hadn’t been able to get a picture. Nor had she been able to get a good look at the vehicle the imposter had been driving. She didn’t think that he suspected her of not believing him, though. He’d promised to come by the next time she was open, which would be Tuesday, as she was closed Monday like many of the shops were.
Lydia constrained herself from stopping every male who bore a passing resemblance to Neil. She possibly freaked a few of them out, following them into or out of a shop until she could get a closer look.
Everyone seemed so happy and carefree. Lydia remembered feeling that way, once. Had it really only been a week since she’d learned of Schooner’s death?
But someone was out there. Someone who had turned on all the gas at the B&B, intending to do both her and her guests harm.
Had the real target been the detective? Lydia couldn’t be sure. Or had it just been to frighten her?
She was sure it hadn’t been Neil. He wasn’t that vindictive. Neil talked a good game. Very little moved him into action, though. Or as Patrice had once said, all hat and no cattle.
Slowly, Lydia wound her way back to the B&B. It would be time to greet the new guests coming in soon. Misty had Sunday afternoons off to spend time with her family, so it would be just Lydia. Misty, like Lydia, worked seven days a week during the busy seasons, though she only worked half days Sundays and Mondays, coming in after Lydia started and leaving after lunch.
For a moment, Lydia wondered if it had been Misty who’d killed Schooner Thomas, or turned on the gas. But she couldn’t imagine why her co-worker would do such a thing.
Unless she was really a criminal mastermind, who just appeared to be friendly with everyone…
Lydia couldn’t help but snort out loud. Misty was comfortable and kind. While all of her own children were grown, she had grandchildren as well as cousins and brothers and nephews and nieces and so on. She would have had to be a master manipulator to have hidden her true nature not just from Lydia but from everyone.
Shaking her head, Lydia finally got back to the B&B. The rooms were all cleaned and set. She could just hang out, maybe do some reading, while waiting for her guests to arrive.
<
br /> Of course, someone was already waiting in the restaurant when she got there.
“Can I help you?” Lydia asked as she came in.
The tall stranger turned. Lydia felt her entire world shake loose, then right itself again.
“Hello, Lydia.”
“Hello, Neil.”
22
Lydia critically studied her ex. It had been five years since she’d seen him.
Neil was dressed nicely, as usual. While Ed and Alan had never liked Neil as a person, they did have to admit that he dressed well most of the time. His black T-shirt didn’t have a logo on it, as he found it morally offensive to be a walking advertisement for anyone (other than himself). He’d maintained all of his hair, as well as his athletic physique, probably with the same amount of complaining and whining as he’d done when she’d been around. His muscular legs looked good in the tan shorts he wore. She remembered joking with him about how he had better knees than she did, and how he should have been the one in skirts. Even his black athletic shoes looked good, more like a millionaire slumming rather than an MBA on vacation.
He was only three months younger than she—they’d shared jokes about her being the “older woman” while he’d been a “boy toy.” He looked younger than her as well, people frequently guessing him to be five to ten years younger than he actually was. However, she could see that gray had finally touched his dark hair, right at the temples. Of course, that would just make him look more distinguished, not old. Unlike the few gray hairs that streaked her own head.
“How are you?” Neil asked after a few moments, obviously taking the time to study her as well.
Lydia bet that he wasn’t actually impressed by what he saw. She wore her usual braid with the wisps pinned back, a raspberry-sherbet colored T-shirt, light gray shorts and sandals. She hadn’t gained any weight—she was far too busy cleaning other people’s toilets, as it were. But she had gained wrinkles.
“I’m good,” Lydia said. “How are you?”
Neil nodded. “About the same,” he said eventually. “So, this is your place?”
“It is,” Lydia said. She tried not to be defensive, but instead, to show him just how proud she was. She had her own B&B. She was her own boss. Sure, she worked a lot of hours, but she enjoyed her life, overall.
The dining room was clean, all the mugs, plates, and silverware put away behind the counter, ready for service Monday morning. The chairs and tables weren’t carefully spaced across the floor yet. Later that evening, after her guests had checked in, she’d move all the tables out of the way and mop the floors. Then she’d set everything just so and have a fresh start at the beginning of the week.
It was a place she was proud of. She didn’t care what Neil said or thought.
“Huh,” was Neil’s only comment. Then he turned his eye back to her. “You’re looking good.”
Was he surprised as how well she’d done while he wasn’t in her life?
“Thank you,” she said. “You too.” She paused, and then, because she couldn’t help herself, she had to ask, “So what are you doing here? You hate Lake Hope. Said you were never coming back.”
“I didn’t say that,” Neil said, sounding defensive.
Lydia rolled her eyes and didn’t reply. She wasn’t about to get into that old argument with Neil. She’d threatened to record him on more than one occasion, particularly when he denied having said something that she clearly remembered him saying.
She waited, patiently. She was more than willing to wait him out.
When had she developed such patience? She was actually comfortable in the silence that grew between them. Was this part of maturing? She hadn’t expected or realized it before now.
Finally, Neil replied. “My mom and dad are selling their place. They wanted me to come back and sort out the stuff I’d left here.”
“I didn’t think you’d left anything here that you’d value,” Lydia said, confused. Was he lying? He’d made that claim more than once before as well.
“They were convinced that I had,” Neil said with an eyeroll. “You know how they are.”
Lydia actually didn’t. She and Neil had never spent that much time with his parents either before or after they’d gotten married. She’d heard Neil’s stories about them, but had quickly realized that when it came to Neil, she was only ever getting a single viewpoint on any event. Other people frequently had radically different viewpoints from his. Particularly her own.
“That can’t be the only reason you came back,” Lydia said after a moment, still probing for the truth.
“Maybe I wanted to check up on you, see how you were doing,” Neil said.
“You didn’t even know I was still in town,” Lydia pointed out.
“You’ve already talked with Patrice,” Neil said, laughing.
Well, that was new. Lydia felt herself standing up straighter. Normally, Neil would have been pissed off about Lydia challenging one of his stories. Not laughing.
“True,” Lydia said slowly, not wanting to ask about the imposter just yet. Or possibly ever.
“I could never pull a fast one on you,” Neil said after a few moments. “No matter how hard I tried. I never had anyone stand up to me like that.”
“What, do you miss it?” Lydia asked, letting the sarcasm drip from her words. She crossed her arms over her chest. Their biggest fights had been over Neil’s version of reality versus what had really happened.
“I do, actually,” Neil said with what Lydia had always called his cute boy smile, the one that, at least in the past, had melted her heart.
Fortunately, it didn’t appear to have the same effect that it had once had. Instead, Lydia felt herself growing angry. Neil always did that to her, made her rage like no one else.
“I call bull hockey,” Lydia said, not bothering to hide the heat behind her words. “You don’t really miss it. Or me.”
Instead of instantly replying, Neil paused to study her again for a few moments.
“No, I actually do,” he said more soberly. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but I kind of need someone to keep me in line.”
Lydia had never even imagined those words coming out of Neil’s mouth. She felt her own mouth open and shut a couple of times.
“You’re kidding me,” she finally said, shaking her head. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. She tightened her arms across her chest, as if hugging herself.
What would she have done if he’d come to her and said those things right after the divorce had been finalized? Would she have changed her mind and gone back to him?
Neil laughed softly. “We all grow up, at some point.”
Lydia could not deal with that right now. Couldn’t even consider that Neil might want to be part of her life again. That was even more unsettling than finding out that a killer lived among them in her town, or finding the gas on that morning.
“When did you get in?” Lydia asked, deliberately changing the subject.
Neil nodded, as if he understood what a bombshell he’d just laid on her. “Last week,” he said.
“When, exactly?” Lydia said, trying to nail down his timeline. She knew he hadn’t killed Schooner. But still…
“Came out a week ago Friday,” Neil said. “Was here for the weekend, then headed back to Seattle. Came back this weekend to finish up.”
Damn it! That meant he could have killed Schooner.
“Peter, one of the owners of Blue Pond winery, thought he saw you on Thursday,” Lydia said. She’d double checked with Bill when exactly he’d thought he’d seen Neil.
“Why would I stop at a winery?” Neil said, confused. “I didn’t leave Seattle until Friday, after work. You know I’m not a wine drinker.”
That made sense to Lydia. Blue Pond was out in the middle of nowhere. Had Peter seen the imposter instead? Plus, Neil liked his beer with the boys. He only drank wine when he thought it made the right impression.
Though whoever had stopped at the vineyard had
asked if they had any beer…
“Did you know that Schooner Thomas was killed?” Lydia said, hoping to surprise him.
Neil gave her a big grin. “Yup. Been looking forward to pissing on the old man’s grave.”
“The police still don’t know who murdered him,” Lydia said. “Any stranger coming into town is going to be a suspect.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Neil said. He looked offended.
Lydia studied him closely. She didn’t think he was lying. But how could she be certain? Neil certainly had changed a lot in the past five years.
“The police will still want to talk with you,” she said.
Neil nodded. Lydia could easily read his expression as, “Bring it.” He was ready to take on the world, as always.
“Where were you this past Saturday night?” Lydia said.
“What is with the third degree?” Neil said. He shook his head, but responded anyway. “Came into town late. Was at a Mariners’ game. Great seats along the third base line. I have a bunch of witnesses as well.”
That actually didn’t help his case, at least as far as Lydia was concerned. He could have come to the B&B when he’d gotten into town and turned on the gas.
Except that he hadn’t even realized that this was her place.
Were the two not connected?
That still didn’t answer who was impersonating Neil, or why they’d tried to implicate her in Schooner’s death by stabbing him with one of her letter openers.
The bell hanging above the lintel rang as someone came in. “Hi!” Lydia said, turning and smiling at them.
“Hi.” It was an older couple who Lydia vaguely recognized. “We’re the Hendricks,” the gentleman announced proudly.
“Right!” Lydia said. They’d stayed with her every year right around this time. She turned back to Neil. “I need to take care of my guests, now,” she explained. “Can you come back here later tonight? Say, after eight?”
Neil shook his head. “Sorry. Can’t. Have dinner with the folks. I’ll be here until Tuesday though. Lunch tomorrow?”
Lydia so wanted to say yes. However, she knew that Theo would kill her if she did. And while Neil was her ex, Theo was still her brother. “Late dinner?” she countered.
The Purloined Letter Opener Page 11
