Once Upon a Murder

by Kodi Heart

  “You guys are going to have to go without me.” Robyn pulled into the gas station, pointing toward my aunts standing off to the side of the ice freezers, a Styrofoam coffee cub in their hands. She grinned at me, avoiding Grant. “I have a hot date with Ryan all day tomorrow.”

  Clenching his jaw, Grant climbed out of the car and met Aunt Kathy and Cari. He motioned toward the back door of the car.

  I climbed out of the front seat and motioned Aunt Cari over. I let her have my seat, climbing in the back alongside the window and Grant who was squeezed into the middle of the bench seat. Aunt Kathy claimed the spot on the other side of him, grinning like she’d taken a healthy hit of laughing gas. She closed the door and giggled. “Cari, looks like I'm the one who's going home with the guy tonight. Didn’t you get it last time?”

  Grant’s grin was wide as he settled in beside me, the bulging muscles of his arm pushing across into my space. I wasn’t complaining, but come on. How aware of a man did I have to be? “I'm in a car full of beautiful women.”

  Aunt Kathy reached over and lightly tapped his cheek. She gave him a knowing smile. “You’ll learn that experience will get you everywhere.”

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Oh Mylanta. My aunt was hitting on Grant. Propositioning him like they were meeting at the bar.

  Leave it to me and my unbelievable luck – my evening had gone from potentially relaxing and boring to an attacker and picking up my lusty aunts.

  How many times would I catch them trying to slip into Grant’s bed that night? I suddenly felt like I was going to be the chaperone to my older aunts and the guy I’d loved since school.

  Chapter 16

  “I think I need a big strong man to come down and flip this pancake for me.” Aunt Cari was anything but subtle when she wanted something. Apparently, seeing Grant and his backside on top of the ladder in Robyn's living room was something she wanted. I rolled my eyes and laughed.

  “Aunt Cari, you’re shameless.” I poured another scoop of pancake mix onto Robyn's ceramic griddle.

  Robyn hadn’t gotten up yet. If I were her, I’d wait for the chaos in my kitchen to disappear. One place Robyn didn't like to be bothered was her kitchen. My aunts had definitely taken over the space. If I wasn’t so amused and entertained by the view of Grant on the ladder as well, I’d hide, too.

  Aunt Kathy leaned over and pointed toward Grant and his jeans. She clucked her tongue and tilted her head toward me. “Honey, I think you should go after that. He is yummy.”

  Robyn entered the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “That yummy is my brother. And ew.” She swatted Grant’s butt as she walked by. “You’re giving all these ladies a little too much to stare at there, bro. Time to come down and teach them how to make crepes.”

  I groaned and half-closed my eyes. “No, wait, do you have huckleberries?”

  Crepes were a Hudson family specialty. Grant and Robyn had learned from their dad how to make crepes in such a way that once I’d tried one of theirs, all others had paled in comparison. Both Robyn and Grant had wild huckleberry bushes behind their houses on the ridges along the roads.

  Grant climbed down from the ladder and folded it up. “That has been bugging me forever.” He tucked his refolded pocket multi-tool back into his pocket and shut the ladder. From the looks of it, he’d tucked the wires Robyn had yanked out from the chandelier back up into the base of the light. “We don’t have time for crepes, Robyn. Their pancakes are going to be perfect. We need to get going. I need to check on some work files while we’re over there as well.”

  Robyn stuck her lower lip out in a semi-pout which disappeared when Aunt Cari handed her a plate. “Oh, that looks delicious.” She smiled at my aunts and made her way to her seat.

  Rocking back on my heels, I watched my aunts. Even though we’d only been reunited for a week, it felt like we’d never been separated. Losing my parents still hadn’t hit. I lived in their home and the house didn’t feel like mine. It felt like home, but also like the building and the property waited for its real owners to walk through the door any moment. I hadn’t grieved my parents properly and it was moments like those with my aunts laughing and teasing Grant and my best-friend where I felt the loss keenly.

  Something Aunt Cari said made everyone in the room burst into laughter, pulling me from the moment. “I want to talk some more about your brother. Even though you’re his sister, you have to admit it’s easy to see why other hot-blooded females are wondering how to hook up with him. A man that’s built like him... he was created to be ogled. Wait, I wonder... with a rear like that, do you have abs to match?”

  She attempted to walk around the island with a predatory gleam in her eye. Grant’s amused grin faltered and he backed toward me like he wasn’t sure what she was going to do.

  Aunt Kathy grabbed Aunt Cari before she could get too far. “He’s not a piece of meat, Cari. That’s enough.” She thrust a plate into her sister’s hands and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Grant. She’s not usually like that. When we found out you and Livvie weren’t together, that pretty much put you on the market and that’s fair hunting season for cougars like us.” She winked and handed him a plate.

  Cari simpered but kept her hands to herself as she slid onto a stool beside Robyn who had dug into her stack of pancakes with fervor. Cari pointed a fork. “Look, it’s simply for science. Do you have abs that fit the way your butt looks? I’d be willing to volunteer, purely for science, to check them out for you. I could be a tribute. What’s that movie? I volunteer as tribute?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Grant who had started laughing.

  His chuckles warmed me.

  “You're not a scientist, Cari.” Aunt Kathy waved a spatula in Aunt Cari's face. “It doesn't matter how many times you try to say you’re scientist, you are not a scientist.”

  “I could be, if men would take off their shirts and let me do an experiment.” She huffed, eating her pancakes and eyeing Grant like he was the reason she was shunned from her preferred profession.

  I couldn't tell if they were joking or serious. I chuckled uncomfortably, they had just worked their way back into my life like the last few years had never happened. Their easy going attitude with me was one of the things I loved about them, but I wasn't comfortable with them eyeballing Grant like he was the next item on the menu.

  Robyn had let my aunts sleep in her bed, while Grant slept in “my” room to help protect him from my aunts and Robyn and I had shared the couch. Or rather I slept on the ground while Robyn dangled half-off the couch.

  Grant thrust his fork at the plate that had magically appeared in front of me on the counter. “Get goin, Andrews. We need to leave.” He ate another bite, drinking some milk while motioning for me to eat.

  “You’re bossy, Hudson.” Two could play the last name game. I playfully glared at him, jerking my gaze to my plate when I caught a glimpse of Robyn studying Grant and I. I would have to talk to her about it soon.

  We dropped off my aunts and continued on to Craig's house. Fortunately, he wasn't more than twenty minutes away in the Valley, but it was still twenty minutes of sitting in the truck with Grant imagining anything I could come up with and lots I didn’t want to come up with.

  After a fairly quiet ride, we pulled into the driveway. After the week I'd had, I just knew for sure I was going to find a dead body or something.

  Grant turned to me, glancing past me to the house. “Look, you’re going to warm us up, and then I’ll slowly take over the questioning, okay? Don’t muddy anything with suggestions. Keep everything simple and to the point. Something isn’t right with this guy. Robyn told me some details about his stories and... if he’s the killer, he could get violent.” He reached out like he wanted to push the hair off my cheek, but he pulled back at the last minute.

  Shadows under his eyes made him look tired like I felt. I nodded shortly. “Of course.”

  We walked up to the deck without incident. When Grant rang the doorbell and Craig came to the door li
ke a normal middle-aged man, I released my pent up breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Olivia, what a nice surprise! Come on in. My wife's in the living room. She’s going to be so excited. We were just talking about your latest release. She loves all your books.” He glanced curiously at Grant as I introduced them.

  We followed Craig into a living room I'd been in before. The previous summer he had all the members of the writers’ group over. His wife, Nancy, had made the most amazing pecan Sandies I’d ever eaten.

  I glanced around the room as if maybe she would have one waiting for me. After my week, I could handle a platter or two of those. I’d eat whatever she put out though, I wouldn’t discriminate.

  We smiled and said our helloes as we sat. I settled into the couch, the leather kind which felt cool to the touch at first but absorbed your heat and became warm and comfortable.

  Grant had said to keep things simple. I cleared my throat. Folding my hands in my lap, I waited for the small talk to fade. “Craig, your perception of the stories is amazing. Grant had some questions for you, if that’s okay?” I thought I would be uncomfortable or on edge, sitting in their home with the possibility of Craig being a killer, but at that point, I was worn out. My deadline was too close and with the neatness of the knickknacks on the shelves and mantle, there was no way a murder would be tolerated in their living room.

  He smiled at us, holding his wife’s hands while they sat back on the couch across from us. “Of course.”

  Grant smiled kindly and glanced from me to Craig. “Where were you the other night? Not last night, but the Friday before last night.”

  “Oh, Craig was out to dinner with the writers’ group. Aren’t you in the group, dear?” Nancy leaned forward and pushed the tray of scones closer to us on the coffee table between us.

  “No, I’m not a writer.” Grant shook his head at the scones.

  I eyed the blueberry scones with more longing than I think I'd ever felt in my life. My aunts were good cooks and they had made breakfast. I was an emotional eater and things were getting crazy between issues with Grant, someone trying to kill us the night before, and a murderer getting away with killing my ex – I figured I deserved the most baked goods I could shove in my mouth.

  Cocking my head and reaching for a scone with drizzled frosting running down the sides, I shook my head and smiled. “No, I mean, yeah, Craig was there, but only for a few minutes. He said he had something to do with you.”

  “Maybe you're talking about last night.” Craig's eyes grew wide. He looked at me like I had just spoiled the secret about Santa Claus.

  I lowered the scone, thoroughly confused. “You didn’t eat with us at Denny’s. You said you had dinner with Nancy.” My memory was solid and he was trying to make me sound like a liar. What was going on? Why would Craig lie to me and his wife? Could it be because he was out killing people? Was that the secret he was hiding?

  Shifting backwards, I settled against Grant, suddenly more afraid than I’d thought I would. Was Craig the killer? Was that narrowing of his eyes because he was going to shoot us or something? I glanced around the living room for scissors or something else sharp that he might try to kill us with.

  “I'm so confused. What's going on?” His wife moved to perch on the edge of the couch cushion, distancing herself from Craig as if she waited for something to make her fly away. Her polite smile didn’t budge, but a wrinkle between her eyebrows plastered her face in confusion. “I was at my sister’s that night. You said you were going to dinner with the writers group so you couldn’t drive out to stay with me.”

  I ignored everyone and asked point blank, “How did you know about the scissors, Craig? I didn't say anything to you about those.”

  “Oh, is this about that murder? Do you think Craig is the killer?” Nancy was shocked, looking at Craig as if she didn't know who he was. She searched Grant and me like we had the answers she needed. Didn’t she realize we were there for answers ourselves?

  Craig still hadn't spoken, avoiding Nancy’s eyes with his hands tucked underneath his armpits. He shook his head the smallest amount, reaching up to wipe at his suddenly damp forehead.

  Nancy whacked him with the back of her hand. “Why?”

  Startled, Craig ignored us and finally looked at his wife. He blinked rapidly at her. “Why?”

  She jumped from the couch, moving to stand by the gas fireplace. “He said he was at the dinner. I believe him.”

  Grant looked at me, shaking his head at my slack-jawed expression. Did that mean don’t say anything? It wasn’t looking good for that.

  “I’m sorry you believe that, Nancy. I can assure you Craig wasn’t at the dinner. He wasn’t there. I was there the whole time and he was there for a few minutes. He made a brief appearance.” He was gone longer than he was present.

  “I didn't do it.” He finally spoke, staring at his hands in his lap, but his voice was muffled. Omission filled the air with a sour taste. We all smelled it.

  Nancy beat me to the next question. “Then what are you hiding?” She was demanding, insistent. I was glad to pass off the Wicked Witch hat.

  He hesitated, looking around the room for an escape.

  Grant pulled out his phone, and I almost slapped him on the arm. He and that phone were more persuasive than a gun to the head would be. “I’m not trying to be pushy here, but I think it bears saying, I can have the lead detective on the case here in a matter of minutes. If you’re not sure the answer is, maybe you could handle the questions at the station?”

  Craig eyeballed the cell, and then cleared his throat. “I was with... someone.”

  Crossing his ankle over his knee, Grant settled into the couch, a picture of relaxation while the rest of us were wound tight. I’m not sure how he did it, but I wanted that skill. He nodded his head for Craig to continue. “Who? Obviously you're doing something you're not supposed to be doing. Prison isn't fun for old guys.” He added the last with a laugh, but it had a tinge of promise to it.

  “My girlfriend.” Craig sighed, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His shoulders started shaking. Was he laughing or crying?

  I shot a glance at Grant. I wasn’t into making old guys cry. If he had a plausible and verifiable alibi, I was left again as the one holding the motive and the means. He couldn’t have an alibi. I liked Craig. He really was a good guy. I just... I needed someone else to be the killer to take the blame off me.

  Nancy’s dismay was palpable, overriding the disbelief in the room with bitterness and disillusionment. “I would rather you were the murderer.”

  I wished he was, too. I wished it was that easy as finding the man responsible and then getting a confession. Nothing was turning out to be easy.

  “Would she corroborate your story?” I held out hope for two things – two pointed things I wanted more than the other things at that moment. I hoped he was lying, because I would much rather Robyn and I went free. Craig was a good guy with a twisted imagination – but weren’t we all?

  He nodded, sitting back up and wiping at his cheeks. “She posted a picture of our dinner on her profile. I can verify it.” He pulled out his phone and went to her profile, and there was a picture of them 1030 pm in downtown Spokane at a very expensive restaurant. They only took reservations and they required a jacket.

  “He wouldn't even take me to that. He said it was too much money.” Nancy began to cry. I didn’t blame her.

  I shifted uncomfortably on the couch. We had opened a whole can of worms for Craig and I didn’t want to stay to see it explode.

  “How did you know about the scissors, though?” I couldn't believe it, this whole time I was trying to find the killer and I would probably be the one that went down.

  “Kami, Tesha, and I were talking about it. Tesha was adamant that the scissors should’ve been blue.” Craig looked at Grant. “Are you going to call the police?” He tugged at his earlobe and stared at his wife.

  Grant jerked his thumb
to the side toward Nancy. “I think you're going to get a much worse punishment here at home.”

  I left my scone on the plate.

  Chapter 17

  “We already questioned Tesha, Grant. Details and everything came back to her and yet, it wasn't her. She had an alibi. She had the movie stubs. I would second-guess her alibi, if the stubs were for the Riverstone Cinemas in Coeur d’Alene, but we’re talking North Spokane. That's over an hour and a half to my house. It just wouldn't work.” I leaned my elbow against the windowsill of the car door and rested my chin in my palm.

  The weather had decided to turn cloudy and rainy again. That was one of my favorite things about living in the Inland Northwest. Mother Nature had started menopause and she had no qualms sharing it with the world.

  “I don't know. These are the types of things that happen in investigations. It wasn't Craig, that’s fine. We didn’t think it was Tesha, everything is pointing toward her, or maybe her husband? Didn’t you say he helps her with the scenes and the plotting? Cases are usually simpler than we like them to be. Everything's pointing at her. There’s no other way those details of the scene would be so obvious.” He shifted as we sped up on the freeway headed toward Coeur d’Alene and then north toward home.

  I sighed, despondent that I would probably go to prison and become one of those women who got paid in sticks of gum and cigarettes. I didn’t even smoke. “What are we going to do? Davis has to be getting close. Didn't you say I was going to be able to go back to my house soon?” I needed to feed my cat and sit in my home. Although, the more I thought about it, the less sure I was that I would feel safe.

  Had anyone tried cleaning the blood off the deck? My dad would be devastated, if he were alive.

  Grant glanced at me before returning his gaze to the road. He nodded tightly. “Davis will probably arrest you. Everything that doesn’t point toward Tesha points to you. I want to say it’s circumstantial evidence, but honestly? You don't have an alibi, and you disappeared before the police could question you. There's a lot more going on than just hiding you and covering you up. If I wasn't calling in favors with Davis and the department, you and Robyn would most likely be in jail or at the very least in questioning. I’ve lied my badge to the ground to cover up for you two and I have a feeling we’re all going down because of that.”