Something struck me about the way he spoke, about the desperation in his voice. This was all about him, not about his missing daughter. He needed her here, and he needed it for himself.
Sheriff Black looked at him for a long time. Finally, he answered. “Fair enough.”
“You can’t be serious!” Darrin shouted, which was a relief because if he hadn’t, I was about to.
“You heard the man, Sheriff Dash. He knows his daughter. You might be the highest authority when it comes to pig thieves and barn burners. But here in Harbor Heights, I’m the law. And I say there’s no crime here.” Sheriff Black set his jaw. “Any action on your part will earn you the backseat of my squad car. Is that clear?”
I thought Darrin was going to explode as he answered the man, his face a bright shade of cranberry. “Crystal,” he said.
“Good,” Francis answered. Turning to the crowd, he said, “Go on about your business. After all, there is a wedding today.”
Then, he sauntered out of the room.
Was he serious? Was he really blind enough to think that all of this was some ruse designed by his daughter?
I strode up to Darrin.
He glared at me as I approached.
“You shouldn’t have jumped in like that,” he said.
“You’re right, especially considering how deftly you handled the rest of the conversation,” I answered. “Where’s Aiden?”
“He’s outside with your dog,” Darrin answered. “They don’t allow pets indoors here.”
“Mayor McConnell is here?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. I shouldn’t have been surprised. My dog was as unique as everything else about my new life. The reincarnated former mayor of Second Springs, he always seemed a step ahead. If he was here, it was because he needed to be.
“He came bounding up as we were about to leave. We couldn’t get him to stay.”
Oh no. I did not like the sound of that. Between Charlie’s supernatural nudging, Chloe’s vanishing act, and now Mayor McConnell’s insistence on showing up. this had all the makings of a ‘wrench/murder’ repeat.
* * *
“These people are insane,” he answered slowly, looking at the population of the kitchen disperse. “They’re actually going to pretend that nothing’s wrong.”
“That’s television for you,” I answered, leaning next to him on the counter.
“Be serious,” Darrin said.
“Oh, I am serious. We have to do something about this, you and me. We’re the only ones who can,” I replied, leaning in closer. “Something’s going on here. A woman is in trouble, and I have a feeling this goes much deeper than anyone in this gilded grotto is willing to admit.”
“This feeling of yours, is it going to get me into trouble?” Darrin asked, his eyebrows cocked.
I grinned at him. “Only if we get caught.”
6
I waited out behind the main building for a full fifteen minutes before Darrin came out to meet me. By the time he finally showed face, all tense and stern, I had almost given up on him.
After all, he had been avoiding me for the last few months. It really wasn’t out of the bounds of reason for me to think he’d flake out on me, even with a full-blown kidnapping underway.
“Did anyone see you?” he asked, looking around as he settled beside me.
“I could probably be standing right in front of them, and they still wouldn’t see me,” I answered. “I’m not really part of their preferred tax bracket.” I shrugged. “Besides, they already know what we think of things.”
“They’ve also threatened to have me arrested because of what we think,” Darrin countered.
“Please,” I shook my head. “You threatened to have me arrested at least twice a day when we first met.”
“I meant it, too,” he said without even a hint of irony.
“You never did it though, did you?” I asked, grinning.
“That was different,” he answered. “Besides, I doubt I’d look half as good in a sundress.”
Heat rose into my cheeks, but I pushed it away. I always blushed so easily, and I didn’t need that happening right now.
“Be that as it may, we can’t just wait around here and do nothing. If Chloe Covington really was kidnapped, then our chances of finding her alive decrease with every minute that passes,” I said.
“And if her blowhard father is right and she’s done all this for attention?” Darrin asked, his brows raised.
“I can think of worse things than doing the wrong thing for the right reason,” I said, looking him directly in the eyes. “Besides, you don’t really believe that, do you?”
“After looking at that crime scene, I really don’t,” he admitted. “It was too raw, too genuine. If that was faked, it was done by someone with a background in criminal sciences, not some vapid reality star.”
“She does sound vapid, doesn’t she?” I asked, scrunching my nose. “I mean, I’ve never actually seen the show or anything, and judging from the way Peggy talks about her, you’d think she walks on water. But the whole thing just feels a little-”
“Focus,” Darrin said sternly. “Like you said, every minute counts.” He shook his head. “First thing’s first. We have to get back to that crime scene. I left that room too quickly. Obviously, I figured I’d have the opportunity to go back and search for clues. Since that wasn’t the case, all we can do is hope Mr. Covington hasn’t had some of the staff compromise it by moving things around.”
“Only one way to find out,” I answered, standing up a little straighter.
“How do you suggest we get in there?” Darrin asked, his mouth twisted down into a frown. “I can’t imagine he won’t at least have someone looking at the door from time to time.”
“I’m sure he will,” I answered. “He might even have some of his penguin-suited goons standing guard, but that won’t matter. We’ll get through anyway.”
“And how do you plan on doing that,” he asked, crossing his chest with his arms.
“The same way I did it to you, Darrin. By thinking outside the box.”
“This is outside the box?” Darrin asked as I ushered Darrin into the kitchen and picked up a cardboard box containing a dozen cream cheese tortes. “It looks more like thinking with the box.”
“Astute of you,” I murmured. “But the extraordinarily inventive thinking I was talking about pertained to what I did earlier.”
“What was that?” Darrin asked, narrowing his eyes.
“As soon as all of this happened, I asked Peggy to do me a favor and stall things.” I couldn’t hold back my smile. “We’ve got the entire kitchen tied up, Darrin. That means no one in this entire horror show of a country club has had even a mouthful of food all day. No appetizers, no cheeses, and certainly no desserts. And check this out,” I said, nudging Darrin toward a semi-hidden corner in the kitchen.
There, sitting on a stool with a fan blowing on it- sending its aroma wafting through a nearby air duct- sat the most perfect apple pie you’ve ever laid your eyes on.
It was piping hot and, if I was right, the perfect push for the already ravenous guests.
“Something tells me these cream cheese babies will make us the most popular people at the party and, with only twelve of them, I wouldn’t be surprised if they incited something of a chase. All we have to do is set them down and wait for the coast around Chloe’s room to clear.”
“You’re devious,” Darrin answered, though he couldn’t hide the hint of a smile that tugged at the edges of his mouth.
“I prefer resourceful, but I guess the result’s the same.” I lifted the cardboard. “Do you want to do the honors?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he answered, waving off the invitation. “It’s your plan. You should be the one to set it into action. Besides, I doubt I’d look very natural carrying out a big pink box.”
“You’d be surprised.” I winked at him and hoisted the box up into my arms.
I plastered a fake smile on my face a
s I marched out of the kitchen and into the common area.
As per my plan, the entire room smelled of sweet, scrumptious apple pie and the guests were practically salivating with hunger.
The first pair of eyes I caught was that of Niles. He glared at me as I made myself at home in the swanky common room, but he could do nothing when I yelled, “Who’s hungry?”
Everyone’s head whipped over as I set the box on a nearby table.
“Oh no,” I said, throwing my hand up to my mouth and feigning surprise. “Looks like there’s only twelve. I guess it's first come, first serve.”
I hopped out of the way seconds before the overdressed onslaught descended on the helpless box of sweets.
They pulled at the sweets, making quick work of the dozen.
“Rich people sure can run when they’re hungry,” I mused, following Darrin toward Chloe’s room.
Two people, presumably those guarding the room, passed by us, not even sparing us a glance as they made a beeline for the box.
Poor things. They’d have a better chance of catching a ride on Haley’s comet than catching one of those cream cheese tortes at this point.
Darrin looked around as he neared the door to Chloe’s room.
“Looks clear,” he said. “Now we just have to hope none of these idiots compromised the scene.”
He pushed through the door, and my breath caught in my throat when I saw which one of those ‘idiots’ had beat us to the punch.
Peggy stood hunched over Chloe’s bed, pushing things around, obviously looking for something.
“Peggy?” I asked, my eyes fixed on her.
Her body tensed up rigidly when she saw us. She gulped hard and even began to shake.
“Peggy,” Darrin asked, moving toward her apprehensively. “What on earth are you doing in here?”
7
My heart leapt into my throat, and a horrible feeling settled on top of my chest. Peggy was in this room, messing with this evidence. Meaning, for whatever reason, she had might have had something to do with all of this.
As much as that didn’t make sense, I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that it was possible, especially after what happened with Harvey.
I knew Peggy. I had grown up with her, as close as two people could be. But I could have said the same thing for Harvey. I knew him too, and it turned out that he was responsible for facilitating horrible things.
Was I about to find out that the same was true for Peggy and, if so, what did that even mean?
What happened in the two years that I was gone to turn all my friends into cold-blooded criminals?
“Peggy?” Darrin asked again. “You’re waltzing around a crime scene. I’m going to need you to answer me. What are you doing here?”
Peggy dropped some papers back onto the bed and shuffled nervously. “I could ask you the same thing,” she answered, looking from Darrin to me and back again.
“Except I’m the one with the badge,” Darrin answered.
“And how much weight does that carry around here?” she asked defiantly, referencing the altercation between Darrin and Sheriff Black back in the kitchen.
“We’ll see,” Darrin conceded. “But you’re still a citizen of Second Springs, Peggy. And I’m going to have to insist that you answer my question.
Peggy swallowed hard again and, as she fidgeted, the thought that she might actually have something to do with this poor woman’s disappearance cemented itself into my mind.
“Peggy…” I started in a small voice, praying she wouldn’t say something to prove my awful thought right.
“What?” She finally shrugged. “It’s good enough for you, but not for me?” She was looking right at me as she continued. “I wanted to find out what was going on here. You told me all those stories about how you and Darrin exposed Angela and Harvey, how you brought them to justice. Well, I just wanted to do the same thing.” She lifted her hands as if to showcase the room. “Look at this place. Anybody who’s even glanced at an episode of Forensic Files could tell you that something horrible happened here. These guys are going to do nothing about it.” She shook her head. “I can’t let that happen.”
“You can’t let that happen?” Darrin balked. “You’re not qualified for this.”
“And she is?!” Peggy asked, motioning to me. “Come on! I mean, at least I own the pie shop.”
“I own it,” I muttered under my breath. Of course, I didn’t. I used to own it, but that was back when Rita Clarke was still breathing.
“What sort of qualifications does she have, anyway?” Peggy asked.
Other than being raised by the best sheriff Second Springs had ever seen?
No. Once again, that wasn’t me anymore.
“She used to be a private investigator,” Darrin answered.
“She did?”
“I did,” I said, looking in Peggy’s direction.
“That’s what she told me,” Darrin answered.
“I did! I did tell you that, because it’s true.” I answered, remembering when I had told Darrin that. I made up some story about being hired by Amelia Hoover to look into the wrench murders. Unfortunately, I hadn’t taken the time to run the story by Peggy.
However, I'd backed off of that and, as far as I knew, Darrin believed me to be the reincarnated version of Rita Clarke…as much as he believed anything, anyway.
Still, the story helped prove our point, and anything that stopped Peggy from throwing herself into the line of fire was okay by me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I spent the last few years as an investigator. It’s why I was so drawn to the crimes back in Second Springs,” I answered in an even voice.
“So you’re a former private investigator who just so happens to have an impeccable eye for desserts?” Peggy asked, obviously leery of the idea.
“I’m an enigma. What can I say? The point is, I’m qualified for this, and you’re not. So, if you’ll just go back to what you were doing, I’m sure there are more than a few hungry guests who’ll be thrilled to see you back in the kitchen.”
“No.” Peggy shook her head.
“No?” I asked. “But I just made so much sense.”
“Maybe,” Peggy answered. “But you’re forgetting one thing. I was raised alongside Rita Clarke. Who, in case you hadn’t heard, had one of the most brilliant deductive minds this town-maybe even this state- has ever seen. And if her dad hadn’t cautioned her against it, she’d have been one of the best detectives around these parts, too. She might have even had your job, Darrin.” Peggy shook her head again, and I saw the beginning of tears in her eyes. “Now I’m not saying that I’m as good as her, or even as good as either of you, but you don’t live that close to the sun without getting at least a little bit tan. Couple that with the fact that I am the world’s biggest Southern Debutantes fan, and I’m an invaluable ally here.” She set her jaw. “And if Rita Clarke were here, she’d tell you the same thing.”
I hated this, being told what I would do like I was some kind of figment of people’s imaginations. Was this what happened when people died? Did they just turn into caricatures of themselves who were used to fit the narrative of who their former friends thought they were supposed to be?
It made me feel icky. It made me feel alone all over again.
“You know, something tells me she wouldn’t,” Darrin said, his eyes darting over to me for the slightest of instances. “Something tells me she’d want you to stay out of it.”
“Could be,” Peggy answered. “But if she was here, she’d also tell you that I almost never listened to her.”
She’s definitely got me there.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Peggy said, leveling one of her patented ‘neurotic mama hen’ looks at us. “Neither am I. Sheriff, detective, pie maker with a business degree; the way I see it, we’re all on an even playing field. Now we don’t have a lot of time. I doubt it’ll be too long before somebody doubles back to this room. We better get a mo
ve on.”
Darrin looked at me, and I quirked my mouth to the side.
As was almost always the case when dealing with a fervent Peggy, we had unequivocally lost.
“Fine,” Darrin consented. “You can help, but just for now. If things get dangerous, you’re out.”
“I’m glad you said that,” Peggy said. Smiling, she pulled up one of the papers that had fallen on the bed when we first barged in. “Because I think I found something.”
8
“What is that?” I asked, looking hard at the slip of paper in Peggy’s hand. It was purple and folded in the middle, and- even from here- I could smell a hint of strong perfume wafting over from it.
“It’s evidence,” Peggy answered, a tone coloring her voice that reminded me of the way I used to speak all those years ago whenever I’d get too involved in one of my dad’s cases.
What had I done to her? Had knowing me really affected this girl so much that she-like me- would go rushing headlong into danger just to say she could? Or was this a case of a super fan getting in the middle of one of her idol’s more compromising moments?
It didn’t matter. Whatever the case, Peggy was right. It was evidence, and that meant we needed to investigate it.
“Let me see that,” Darrin said and stepped forward. Peggy handed him the slip of paper, eyeing him as she let it go, like she was handing over her only leverage.
I moved beside Darrin and peered at the purple paper. Strewn across it in squared letters read the phrase ‘I know what you’re doing. You won’t get away with it’.
“That’s sort of ominous, isn’t it?” I mused, looking over at Peggy. “Where did you find this?”
“In an envelope shoved into the pages of one of Chloe’s photo albums,” she answered, pointing to a large ringed binder sitting on the counter.
“That’s old fashioned,” I muttered, looking at the massive book of pictures. “I figured a girl like her would keep most of her memories on her phone.”
Twice Layered Murder Page 4
