by Thea Cambert
“Oh, I know,” Luke said quickly.
Ben looked at Alice and seemed to make a decision in his mind. “You know what? I’m going to run up to the house for just a minute. I’ll bring us back a pitcher of tea.”
“That sounds great!” said Alice, thankful to her brother for giving her a moment alone with Luke.
When Ben had gone, Luke took Alice’s hand. “I want to talk to you. About Alexandra, and why I didn’t tell you she was here,” Luke said quietly.
“I know. And, I want to talk to you, too. But, we only have a few minutes before Ben comes back, and I need to tell you what happened today. It seems someone other than you didn’t think too highly of Alexandra. Someone here in Blue Valley. A note was left for her at the Valley Inn—a threatening note.”
“You saw the note? How? Do the police have it?”
“Samuel Berkley. He owns the Valley Inn. He let us see it before the police got there. They have the note now. Anyway, Eve—that’s Samuel’s wife—told us that a young woman had stopped by the inn right around the same time the note was left. The Berkleys didn’t technically see her leave the note, but we decided to follow the trail, just in case. We found the young woman right over there.” Alice pointed to the western end of the lake. “At Cozy Bear Camp and Glamp.”
“Did you—” Luke, who was leaning forward tensely cleared his throat and sat back. “I mean, you met this woman?”
“She’d actually been in my bookshop Wednesday at the same time as Alexandra. She has these unusual bright green eyes. Anyway, when the Berkleys described her, I knew it had to be the same woman. So, Owen, Franny, and I went over to Cozy Bear and found her.”
“And?”
“She’s really nice, actually.” Alice couldn’t help the tinge of disappointment in her voice. She wished Olivia had turned out to be even a little bit nasty.
“What does your instinct tell you, Alice? Your gut is usually right.”
“My gut is undecided. Olivia seemed genuinely shocked that it was Alexandra who’d died Wednesday night—which would lead one to believe she didn’t kill her. But then, I got her to write down her contact information so we could enter her and her husband in tomorrow’s pedal boat race. Luke, the handwriting is similar to the handwriting on the threatening note. It’s not completely obvious. She would have had to have tried to disguise it. But I think . . .”
“Listen to your gut, Alice.”
“I think Olivia might have left that note.”
“Did Ben get all this?”
“Yep. He has both the threatening note from the inn and the one Olivia wrote today. He’s sending it in to be analyzed.” Alice covered Luke’s hand with her own. “The bottom line is, if Olivia turns out to be the one who wrote that note, that means someone who had a score to settle with Alexandra is right here on the lake.”
“Where the body was found,” Luke finished. “Good lead, Alice. Have I ever told you you’d make an excellent detective?”
“Yep.”
“Well, it’s true.” He looked at her and smiled appreciatively, then leaned forward and kissed her gently. “Sorry I’ve been a little out of touch these past few days. I really miss taking walks with you. Having lunch with you . . . Just little things like that. I’ve been laying low, I guess.”
“You okay?”
“I’m a little shaken,” he admitted. “It’s not as though there was any love lost between Allie and me, but it’s still disconcerting to see a person you knew . . .”
Alice nodded in understanding. “Of course, it is. I wouldn’t want you to be the kind of person who felt nothing in a situation like this.”
“I also miss work. I’m ready to get back to it. I mean, I’m doing desk work, but it’s not the same. Having Finn home helps a lot.” He grinned. “Seeing you helps a lot, too.”
Alice noticed his beard stubble was getting thicker, and his dark hair was a bit disheveled—a definite departure from his usually tidy appearance. She privately thought he might even be more handsome this way and found herself wondering what Luke Evans looked like when he first woke up in the morning.
“Tea, anyone?” Ben set a tray with a pitcher of tea and three glasses full of ice on the picnic table.
“Thanks,” said Alice, pouring herself a glass.
“I had an interesting chat with Patrick when I picked up the food,” said Luke, taking the pitcher.
Patrick Sullivan owned the Smiling Hound and was always glad to greet his customers and catch up on local goings-on. In fact, Patrick probably knew more about what was happening and who was seen where and with whom than anyone else in town. If you wanted the local scoop, Patrick was your man. Even Jane Elkin, owner, editor, and reporter for the Blue Valley Post often checked with Patrick when she was doing investigative reporting for an article.
“He told me he saw Alexandra Wednesday night,” Luke continued.
Alice and Ben both sat up straighter.
“I don’t like gossip, you know that,” Ben said.
“We know,” Alice assured him. “Go on.”
“Patrick said Alexandra was at the Hound almost until closing Wednesday night. She was flirting with Norman McKenzie.”
“Norman? Pearl Ann’s gentleman caller?” Alice pictured the tall, lanky man who’d been dating Pearl Ann Dowry, owner of the Blue Beauty Spa on Main Street, since the fall. “Was Norman flirting back?”
“Patrick only said that they’d been sitting at the bar, talking, and then when Alexandra left, she was a little drunk—and she left with Norman.”
“And that was just before she died,” said Ben. He looked at Luke, sighed, and finally said, “Zeb thinks she died somewhere around midnight, although he can’t be a hundred percent certain. We’re still waiting on the final word from the ME.”
“So, maybe Alexandra somehow decided to take a midnight swim in the lake after drinking too much?” Luke scoffed. “I mean, that just doesn’t sound like her.”
“It doesn’t sound like Norman, either,” said Alice. “He’s such a nice man. It’s not like him to pick up a drunk woman at a pub.”
“But, it does bear looking into,” said Ben. “We have to remind ourselves that we don’t always know people as well as we think we do.”
Alice’s eyes drifted back over to Luke, who met her gaze with a steady one of his own. “Alice, I didn’t have anything to do with Alexandra or her death. She came to my cabin Wednesday morning, and that was the last I saw of her. I didn’t tell you about it because, well, I wanted to forget it even happened. And, the headache I had that night? That was the worst stress headache I’ve ever had. I went to bed early. If she drowned right out there—”
“She didn’t drown.” Alice didn’t mean to say it. She knew she wasn’t even supposed to know it. But, she couldn’t help it.
“What?” Luke looked shocked.
“Alice!” Ben scolded.
“I . . .I didn’t mean—” Alice looked at Ben, then back at Luke.
“No, no,” said Luke, getting to his feet. “I understand. You can’t say anything else. It’s okay.” He turned to go, but then stopped and turned back. “I’m just glad to know you’re on the case and making progress. I know you’ll get to the bottom of this mess.”
Alice couldn’t tell in the evening light whether Luke was looking at her or at Ben—most likely, he was looking at both of them.
“Thanks for the dinner!” Alice called to Luke’s retreating form. He gave a little wave but didn’t look back again. “He hardly touched his food,” she said, looking at Luke’s half-eaten sandwich. “I’m worried about him.”
“Me, too,” said Ben. “This is an emotional roller coaster for a man who rarely cracks. But he’s holding it together.”
“I’m glad he has Finn back.”
“Me, too.”
“I know he didn’t kill anyone.”
“Me, too.”
Alice and Ben sat in silence a few moments longer, looking at the Maelstrom in all its glory.
&
nbsp; “We’d better call it a night,” Ben finally said. “Big day tomorrow. I’ll see you here at seven, so we can warm up and pedal over to the starting line. By the way, I miss Franny and Owen being here tonight. I figured they’d join us—help us decorate the old girl.”
“Me, too. They were very mysterious about what they’re up to this evening,” said Alice.
“Hmm.”
“I’m sure they’ll be at the race in the morning to cheer us on.”
Chapter 11
“Okay, you two. Spill it.”
Alice had come home from Ben’s to find Owen and Franny in the garden, huddled around Owen’s laptop.
“What?” asked Franny, a look of wide-eyed innocence on her face.
“Nice try, with the doe eyes there, Franny, but I’m on to you. What are you up to? I know you, and I know you’d never miss a lakeside feast from the Smiling Hound for nothing. And spending time with Ben. I had to eat extra onion rings, and now I’m all bloated.” Alice turned to look Owen in the eye. “Out with it, Owen.”
“Don’t give me your stink eye, Alice. My lips are sealed.”
“So, you admit you’re hiding something!” said Alice, pointing an accusing finger at Owen.
When neither Franny nor Owen responded, Alice crossed her arms and said, “Fine. Don’t tell me, then.”
“If you must know, we’re working on a project,” said Franny.
“Franny!” said Owen.
“I can’t help it!” said Franny. “I can’t handle Alice’s stink eye!”
“Go on,” said Alice, trying to intensify her glare.
“That’s right!” said Owen, putting an arm around Franny. “We’re working on a small project!”
“What kind of project?”
“Never mind,” said Owen. “We’ll tell you tomorrow. Meanwhile, don’t you want to hear what we found out from studying Alexandra’s blog?”
This caught Alice’s full attention. “You learned something new?”
“We’ll show you,” said Franny, scooting over so Alice could sit.
“Also, we’ve been waiting for you to get here so we could try these beauties,” said Owen, opening a bakery box with six tiny cakes inside. “I see no reason why we shouldn’t sample a couple of prospective wedding cakes while we fill you in. We’ll start with pumpkin-caramel-cinnamon.”
“How am I going to fit any more food into my stomach tonight?” asked Alice with a groan. “I’m serious. On Monday morning, we’re turning over a new leaf! Extra miles and clean eating!”
“Just try a bite,” said Owen.
“Mmm. Tastes like fall,” said Franny, taking a bite and getting a smear of frosting on her nose.
“That frosting on your nose is a maple chai buttercream,” said Owen, biting into his own cake.
“It’s so comforting,” said Alice. “So warm.”
But Owen frowned. “Nope, this isn’t it,” he said.
“Owen, you’re being entirely too picky. All of these cakes have been outstanding,” said Alice.
“Okay, look here,” said Franny, scrolling through the Alexandra’s Adventures archives. “Here’s an entry dated a year ago this week. Alexandra writes about what she carries in her purse.”
“What’s in my bag,” Owen said, rolling his eyes. “I mean, like we’re really going to believe she carries around a stethoscope in that five-thousand-dollar designer purse!”
Alice marveled at the professional-quality of the photos, which featured a buttery leather purse, its contents scattered about and surprisingly color-coordinated.
“She made it look like the purse just spilled open,” said Franny. “But the irony is, she probably took an hour to arrange it exactly the way she wanted it.”
“I bet,” said Alice. “I mean, the way that pack of bubble gum is just casually lying on her open passport so we can see that she’s been all over the world, apparently while chewing gum, and—oh.” Alice slumped back in her chair, stricken.
“What?” Owen squinted at the computer screen. “Oh.”
“What?” asked Franny, looking back and forth between the other two.
“Right there,” said Owen, pointing at the artfully arranged contents of Alexandra’s purse.
Franny leaned forward, then used the mousepad to zoom in. “Ohhh.”
Right in between a pair of sunglasses and an expensive lipstick—just under one of the keys on a designer keyring—was an open locket containing a small photo of Luke.
“Well, they were engaged this time last year,” said Owen.
Alice sighed. “That was probably shortly before they broke up, since Luke moved here in October.”
Franny gave Alice a sideways squeeze. “More cake,” she said, looking at Owen.
“Yes!” Owen passed around the second sample, a decadent pistachio cheesecake topped with shaved dark chocolate.
“I need this cake in my life,” said Franny.
“Owen, you’ve outdone yourself,” said Alice.
“This isn’t the one,” said Owen. “Back to the drawing board.”
“So, what was it about this What’s-in-my-bag article you found so interesting?” asked Alice, looking back at the computer screen and trying to avoid letting herself hone in on Luke’s photo.
“Oh—right!” said Franny, scrolling down to the bottom of the article. “It’s actually in the comments section. See here, where PeachJam2033 responded to the article?”
Alice leaned forward and read aloud. “’You should be careful with the things that you treasure. Someone could take them all away someday.’” She leaned back again. “Wow, that’s undeniably creepy.”
“And, look here,” said Owen, reaching over and scrolling to the bottom of the next blog entry—a look at what Alexandra had eaten for lunch that day. Alice caught sight of the picturesque array of fruits, vegetables, cheeses, and a rustic chunk of dark bread, with a glass of red wine and chocolate truffles for dessert. The comment Owen pointed to read, Watch what you eat. You might get sick.
“It goes on and on,” said Franny. “Every post Alexandra wrote for the whole year, right up until she wrote this one.” She stopped scrolling and turned the laptop toward Alice.
“Oh, yes, I noticed this one when I was reading through the blog. Mini-Vacay in the Smokies. She wrote this just a few days ago. It’s about her plans for her trip here.”
“That was the last post she wrote, before—” Franny looked at Alice.
“And look,” said Owen, scrolling down to the bottom of the article. “PeachJam2033 strikes again.”
“’See you in Blue Valley,’” Alice read slowly. “Wow. I’d read lots of Alexandra’s posts, but didn’t think to read the comments. This is serious. This peach jam person could most definitely be our killer.”
“Did Ben have any new information about the police investigation?” asked Franny.
“Now, you know Ben can’t tell me about classified stuff,” said Alice.
“Oh, right,” said Owen with a snort. “Alice, we all know you can get that bird to sing when you need to.”
“Actually, Luke did find something out, but . . .”
“But, what?”
“But, I hope it doesn’t pan out,” said Alice. “Luke talked to Patrick Sullivan tonight when he picked up our food at the Hound. Patrick told him that Alexandra had been there late Wednesday night. Drinking. A lot.”
“Wednesday night—as in, the night she died,” said Owen.
“The very same,” said Alice. “In fact, according to the coroner, Alexandra was probably killed around midnight. Patrick said she left the pub about that time . . . with Norman.”
“Norman McKenzie?” Owen said, standing so abruptly he almost knocked his chair over.
“No way!” said Franny. “He adores Pearl Ann!”
“That’s why I don’t want it to be true,” said Alice.
Owen looked across the street at the Smiling Hound, where the rooftop garden lights still glowed merrily, and the chatter of the cust
omers could be heard.
“We have to go over there,” he said.
“It’s Friday night. Half the town will be there,” said Alice.
“Exactly,” said Owen. “Norman and Pearl Ann go there every Friday night. We need to ask some questions.”
“Plus, we can talk to Patrick. See if he remembers any other details about Alexandra that night,” said Franny.
“I have an early boat race in the morning,” said Alice, hesitating. “Ben will kill me if I show up tired.”
“Tough tootsies,” said Owen, picking up his empty cake box resolutely. “We’ve got a killer to catch.”
Chapter 12
The Smiling Hound was the place to be on a Friday night in Blue Valley—for locals and tourists alike.
Patrick Sullivan greeted Alice and her friends as they came through the door. “Hold on, now. Shouldn’t you be resting up so you can defend your title tomorrow morning?” he asked, giving Alice a playful nudge.
“It’s in the bag, right Alice?” said Owen with a chuckle.
“Why are you chuckling?” Alice asked him. “The Maelstrom is all decked out and ready to win.”
“Come into the bar,” said Patrick. “The place is crowded tonight with it being both a Friday and a holiday weekend. You three doing good business across the street?”
“Sold a lot of coffee today,” said Franny, taking a seat on one of the pub’s comfortable barstools.
“I actually sold out of my special red, white, and blue cupcakes,” said Owen. “Hilda’s baking another batch as we speak.”
“Does Hilda ever sleep?” asked Patrick.
“I suspect she might be one of the un-dead,” said Owen. “But that’s fine by me if it means she’s willing to bake at all hours. It works out well. I bake before dawn in the mornings, and she usually takes over the kitchen in the evenings.”
“Hey, guys, what can I get you tonight?” Taya Helms, Patrick’s head bartender set a bowl of homemade salt and vinegar potato chips down in front of them.
“You might want to try our special Red, White, and Booze Rum Freeze,” said Patrick, sitting down next to Alice.
