by Sonia Parin
She considered calling Mitch to ask if Jon Reed had left the bar but decided against it because she knew Mitch would ask questions, and then Abby would have to tell him about the intruder.
“Is it possible,” she whispered under her breath. Could she point the finger of suspicion at Jon Reed based on a feeling of apprehension? Why would George Mercer’s foreman break into Harold Moorhead’s house?
Standing in the middle of her small sitting room, she raked her fingers through her hair. “I could sure do with an extra IQ point.” But she would settle for thinking clearly.
Exhaustion from the heat weighed her body down. She heard the soft hum of the AC unit which she had left on low. Walking over to the coffee table, she picked up the remote and cranked it up a notch. The unit didn’t respond.
“Argh! This is not the time.” She tried again but didn’t hear the distinct ping sound that signaled a change in the fan speed. Trying again, she stretched her arms out and pointed the remote at the green light on the unit. Still no response.
She dug inside her pocket, drew out her phone and called Mitch. When he picked up, she heard a loud pitched laugh mingling with the lively conversations in the background.
“What’s up?” Mitch asked.
“Help,” she managed.
Mitch must have dropped the phone. In less than a flash, she heard a fist banging on her door.
Abby went to open it and Mitch rushed in, a bat in his hand. “Where is he?”
“Who?”
“You called for help.”
Abby pointed at the AC unit. “It’s broken.”
Frowning, Mitch lowered his cricket bat and strode over to the unit. “You called for help. I thought you were being attacked.”
“Are you saying this doesn’t qualify as an emergency?”
“Hardly.” He pressed a button on the AC and it pinged. “How high do you want it?”
“As high as it will go… and, why did it work for you and not me?”
“It’s called a manual setting. As in, walk up to the unit and press the button.” He grabbed the remote and tried it. “The battery must be dead.”
Abby collapsed onto the couch. “Thank goodness. I thought it had died on me.”
“What’s really going on with you?” he asked.
“Nothing that a cold shower won’t fix. Thanks for rushing to my rescue.”
Mitch refused to budge. “Are you homesick? Is that it?”
“Why does everyone assume…? Never mind. No, I’m not homesick. Although, maybe I should be. I’ve always spent the holidays at home but it’s not as if I can jump on a plane and be there in a couple of hours. We’re so far away here.” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand.
“Don’t you get time off?”
“Honestly, I’m fine. Besides, by the sounds of it, I’m going to be too busy to feel homesick. Again, thanks.” Getting up, she gave him a gentle shove toward the door. “I really need to wash this layer of stickiness off me.”
Half an hour later, she emerged from her cold shower feeling better. Since the window facing the alley behind the pub faced the afternoon sun, she lowered the setting on the AC so it would keep the room cool until she returned later that night.
Stepping out of her apartment, she remembered what had happened just before she had come upstairs.
Jon Reed.
She should call Joshua straightaway and tell him.
Tell him what? That she’d had a strange feeling about the man? Checking the time, she realized Joshua might not even be in the office. She considered sending him a text message but, thinking it would intrude on his down time, she decided against it. Even detectives working a case got to go home at some point.
Her decision became final when she entered the bar and saw Joshua nursing a cold beer. He’d changed out of his suit and into a T-shirt and jeans. As she walked toward him, he laughed at something Mitch said. Abby couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked so relaxed.
“Here she is,” Mitch said. “We were just saying you should only come down at night.”
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard today.” She took the stool next to Joshua. Belatedly, she remembered to look around the bar to see if Jon Reed was still there. He wasn’t.
Had he left soon after that awkward moment or had he lingered for a while?
What if he made his getaway? She’d have to own up to not telling Joshua. Maybe she could tell him in a way that he would figure it out by himself…
She searched for Doyle, expecting to find him stretched out by the fireplace or in front of the AC. “Where’s Doyle?”
“He’s gone,” Mitch said.
“What do you mean?”
“Markus went over to the park to help Bradford with the lights and Doyle tagged along.”
“I see. I’m sharing my dog now.” Until this heatwave, Doyle had been by her side 24/7. Her constant and reliable companion. Wherever she went, he was there with her. At the end of the day, she loved sharing the day’s events with him. Sometimes, she thought he understood every word she said. Other times, he had a worried expression that suggested he might be wondering how safe he was in her hands.
“Are you going to cry?” Mitch asked. “You’re teary-eyed.”
“I suppose he needs a male figure in his life. I only hope he doesn’t pick up any bad habits, like grumbling or scowling…”
Mitch set a beer down in front of her. “Doyle has a cheerful disposition. I’m hoping it will rub off on Markus.”
“Is there a story behind that?” It made no sense to Abby. Markus appeared to have everything, including a healthy relationship with the pub’s chef. “Did someone drop him on his head when he was a kid?”
“No, but we have discussed it at length. In the end, we decided that as the first born, Markus just carries the weight of the world. He likes to shoulder all responsibility. It makes my life easier. If I do something wrong, I can point the finger at him and he’ll happily accept responsibility.”
“I’m so glad I’m an only child.” Abby turned to Joshua. “This is the most relaxed I’ve seen you this week.”
“I’m working hard at it.”
As if by mutual agreement, no one mentioned the case. That suited Abby just fine. Jon Reed could wait. Although, if he did anything hasty, it would be on her head. Regardless, she tried to think of a way to give Joshua enough information to let him figure it all out by himself. “The place looks great with the Christmas decorations up.”
“Yeah, everyone’s been whistling a happy tune and drinking lots of beer.”
She tried to think of something else to say that didn’t have anything to do with the case. Drumming her fingers on the counter, she found a way to mention the subject while skating around it…
“Correct me if I’m wrong.”
Leaning against the counter, Mitch grinned. “With great pleasure.”
“Jon Reed is your version of a cowboy.”
“That’s right.”
“So, he would know how to hog-tie a cow.”
“Rope and tie? Most likely, but he doesn’t need the skill.” Mitch went on to explain most cattle were ear-tagged rather than branded.
“But he would know how to take control of a large animal.” The intruder had managed to grab and tie her without any effort whatsoever.
Abby watched him exchange a look with Joshua.
“Probably. Why do you want to know?”
“Curiosity.” She took a sip of her beer.
When Joshua looked over his shoulder, she knew that he’d made the connection. Abby suspected he might have been looking to see if Jon Reed was still at the pub.
“Do you know how long he’s been working for George Mercer?”
“All his adult life. He’s in his thirties.”
“So, I guess he must be quite loyal to George Mercer.” Loyal enough to cover for him or to do anything that needed to be done.
Mitch moved away to take care of a customer, leaving Abby to de
cide if she should share her suspicions with Joshua or not.
He finished his beer and turned the glass in his hands. “What’s on your mind, Abby?”
“Sorry. You probably came here hoping to switch off and take time out from the investigation.”
“Not until the killer is caught. I’m just pretending to be taking a break. There’s no escaping it. You end up taking your work home or wherever you happen to go.”
Abby lowered her head and then leaning in, said, “I picked up a strange vibe from Jon Reed.”
Chapter 18
When the sun finally set, Abby and Joshua set out for the park on the edge of town where they found Bradford and Markus making final adjustments to the lights.
They hadn’t mentioned Jon Reed again but Joshua had placed a call to make sure Jon Reed didn’t suddenly decide to go on vacation.
Bradford and Markus stepped back.
“So, what happens now?” Abby asked them.
Markus snorted. “We’re waiting for Joyce. We’d never hear the end of it if we tested the lights without her.”
Doyle looked up at Markus and then made his way over to sit by Abby who couldn’t help wondering if he would much rather be with the boys.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joshua checking the time. He’d been quieter than usual. Abby considered making some small talk but decided against it. If she talked, she might say something about the case. Since he hadn’t brought it up, she assumed he didn’t want to talk about it. Everyone deserved a break, even when a killer remained on the loose…
A car pulled up. A moment later, Faith walked toward them. “Looks like I’m just in time.”
Within the next few minutes, more and more people arrived. At the end of the tree lined clearing, Abby saw a large pine tree and assumed that would eventually be decorated.
“Do you all do this every year?”
“Not officially. We just want to make sure the lights are working for our Christmas carols night. This year, we’re hoping to collect ten thousand dollars for the hospital.”
“That sounds like a lot of money from a small community,” Abby observed.
“It would be if it was just us but, at this time of the year, we get some of the larger land holders coming into town.”
Finally, Joyce made an appearance. Still dressed as a Christmas angel, she nodded and gave the go-ahead.
Bradford and Markus did the honors by pulling the switch. A colorful display of lights twinkled back at them. They had done a terrific job of stringing up the lights between the trees and light poles creating a backdrop for the stage area where the carolers would stand.
A hum of admiration made the rounds with everyone waving off the insects that had come out to prey on them.
“I guess that’s that,” Faith said. “I’ll see you all at the pub.”
“Now it’s really beginning to feel a lot like Christmas,” Joyce said as they walked back.
Abby was just glad no one had started singing. The night air felt sultry enough for her to want to hurry back to the air-conditioned comfort of the pub. “As if your elf and angel outfits didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Joshua leaned forward and laughed. “I’ve only just noticed them.”
“You’re kidding. How could you miss them?” she asked even though she already knew the answer. Clearly, his mind had been on more serious matters. Forgetting herself, she asked, “By the way, did you have any luck with Stevie Garth?”
Several seconds ticked by before he answered. “Yes.”
“Sorry, I guess you’d rather not talk about it.”
Shrugging, he said, “The wrench is missing from the truck.”
“At least he didn’t have to cut his honeymoon short,” Abby mused. She watched Doyle trying to discourage a moth from settling on his nose. “I have to ask.”
“Go ahead.”
“Do you know for sure Stevie Garth is away?”
Joshua nodded. “Yes, he’s on an island up north.”
“I guess he’s now officially the only electrician in town. Does the business go to Harold’s brother?”
“Actually, no, it doesn’t. It goes to Stevie Garth.”
Joyce looked at Joshua. “Doesn’t that make Stevie Garth a suspect? Yes, I know. He wasn’t here, but he could have paid someone to bump Harold off.”
“Hardly. He’s really torn about Harold’s death.”
“Wait a minute. How does he know the business is his?” Abby asked.
Joshua looked away.
Joyce nudged her. “I don’t think he wants to tell us.”
What did Joshua know and why didn’t he want to tell her? Abby looked up at the night sky. Stars sparkled back at her. She tried to switch off but it didn’t last. “Hey, that sort of makes sense of the pram.” Had Harold decided to adopt Stevie Garth in the way men who didn’t have children and yearned for one did?
Including the pram in his model village suggested he wanted to announce it to the world. Only… no one ever got to see his model village.
Did any of that tie in with the murder? The only person who would be affected by Harold’s gift of the business would be his brother but Joshua had already cleared him of any involvement.
Who else might have been affected?
George Mercer. He’d been interested in getting the land. What if he’d heard about Harold’s intention to change his will? He might have assumed Harold had wanted to give Stevie Garth the house and land as well as the business. What if George Mercer thought he wouldn’t be able to buy the land from Stevie?
“You’ve got your thinking face on,” Joyce said.
“Yes, but my mind is full of what ifs.” As well as a rising suspicion about Joshua’s silence, she thought. She couldn’t shake off the feeling he was keeping something from her.
Joyce looked over her shoulder. “You’ll have to excuse me. It looks like Bradford is trying to get out of going to the pub for dinner. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Is it my imagination or has it cooled down?” Abby asked.
“Don’t get your hopes up. This is only a temporary respite so enjoy it while you can.”
When they reached the pub, Faith, who’d driven there, waved them over to a table. “Hurry up. I’m starving and I want to order.”
Joshua excused himself for a moment. Abby waited until he was out of earshot to say, “He’s keeping something to himself and I’m beginning to think it’s not fair.”
“You think it’s something vital?”
“Must be and I get the feeling it’s something that’s got him worried.” She told Faith about Stevie Garth inheriting the business and she agreed that maybe Harold Moorhead had planned on favoring him in the will too.
“He must have really liked Stevie.”
“What do you know about him?” Abby asked. “Did he grow up in the area?”
“Nearby. Let me think.” Faith grabbed a bread stick and started munching on it. “You’ll have to ask Joyce. She’ll know.”
“Actually, I remember Bradford saying something along those lines.” Abby looked over her shoulder to see if Joyce had arrived. Instead, she saw Joshua heading toward their table only to stop half way to answer his phone. After a brief conversation, he looked up, mouthed an apology and left. “Heavens. He didn’t even come by the table to say goodbye.”
“Who?”
“Joshua. I hope that means he’s found a lead.”
“Without telling you about it?”
“It’s his job.” Sitting back, she smiled. “I guess I get the night off.”
“Let it go, Abby. Listen to yourself. Let it go and go back to sleep.” Punching her pillow, Abby checked the time. Five in the morning. Light peaked through the corners of the curtain. The sun would be coming up soon. Another day. Another dead-end. And she had just spent a night tossing and turning.
She rolled to the edge of the bed and, scooping in a deep breath, she swung her feet to the floor.
“I’m awak
e so I might as well be up.”
Half an hour later, she was showered and dressed. Doyle had opened an eye a couple of times but, each time, he’d gone back to snoozing.
Abby sat on the couch and grabbed her phone. Scrolling through the photos she’d taken of Gloria Mercer, she tried to see beyond the happy smiles.
If Harold’s photos of the model village were to be taken seriously, the woman had been having an affair with Harold for years. Abby mentally underlined that. Shrugging, she murmured, “At the risk of missing another vital clue.”
When she heard a delivery truck pulling up outside the pub, she checked the time and couldn’t believe she had spent an hour looking at the photos.
She checked her messages. Nothing from Joshua. He would be talking to Jon Reed that morning. Joshua knew how to do his job. If Jon Reed had anything to hide, Joshua would get the information out of him.
She sent Joyce a text asking about Stevie Garth. Apparently, there was some sort of story about him.
A message came through just as Doyle padded his way into the sitting room. “Good morning, sleepy head.” Knowing his routine, Abby waited for Doyle to have a drink of water. Then, they both went downstairs.
“Same tree?” she asked.
Doyle gave it a sniff and then trotted over to the next tree to do his business.
While she waited, Abby read the message. A big question mark from Joshua. A second later, he called.
Realizing her mistake, Abby said, “Sorry. I sent the message to the wrong person.”
“Why are you asking about him?”
“Same reason I always ask questions. Reporter’s curiosity.”
“I realize you want to get your story but I wonder if you might take a back seat for a while.”
“Why?”
“The more complicated the case, the higher the risk,” he explained. “Anything could go wrong. A suspect could get a tip off before the police have a chance to speak with him…”
“You think I’ll get in the way.”
“Abby, you’ve already been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He huffed out a breath.
“So this is about me now? You know I can look after myself. And I think you also know I wouldn’t jeopardize your investigation. If I find something that I think can be of value to you, I contact you straightaway.” Abby looked into the distance. She understood his frustration.
