Minnie was clearly flustered. She wriggled on her chair and fussed with her dangling earrings. "I—I didn't think it was relevant. That's a whole separate crime. I reported it to the convention security team. I certainly didn't think it had anything to do with Mason's murder." She was red faced and breathing in shorter spurts by the time she finished. "Am I in some kind of trouble? I was careless with the box. That is on me, but I had nothing at all to do with Mason's death. I didn't care much for the man, but he never bothered me. I avoided him."
Briggs nodded. "You're not in trouble. I'm glad you reported the theft to security. I didn't mean to upset you."
Minnie sniffled quietly, trying to gather herself. "For a moment there, I thought you were accusing me of something. I'm sorry." She pulled a tissue from the box on the table and wiped her nose. "I'm just extra sensitive right now because some club members seemed to be insinuating that I took the money. But what kind of treasurer would I be if I took money from the club?" She sniffled again. "We were all looking so forward to this week. It's just been a nightmare."
Briggs bowed slightly. "Again, I'm sorry for causing you any distress. Just trying to get to the bottom of this murder. We'll leave you alone now."
I flashed a sympathetic smile Minnie's direction and followed Briggs out the door.
We walked a few steps, then Briggs stopped and turned to me. "What are you thinking, Miss Pinkerton?" He was using his adorable, professional tone, but his brown eyes gazed at me very unprofessionally.
"It was Andrew," I said, succinctly, without divulging details. After all, I wasn't about to give away my whole theory without making him work for it.
"That's my thought too, only I'm not quite as confident as you. I haven't figured out a motive yet. When I asked him about the fight he had with Mason, one that a few people witnessed, he brushed it off as some heated debate about binocular brands."
"Then you're in luck because your partner has motive covered too."
The stream of visitors was growing thicker. Briggs took my hand and led me toward a quiet area that had been set aside for people to rest on a bench. Since most people were just arriving, the bench was empty.
"I assume it has to do with the missing money," Briggs said as we reached the bench.
"You assume right. If my theory is correct, I have one bit of evidence to help bring it along. Unfortunately, I don't think it's anything that will hold up in court."
Briggs looked disappointed. "Tell me anyhow. Maybe I can figure out how to use it."
"First of all, I'll tell you something more concrete, something that would possibly help the case. When Elsie and I came here to the convention the first night, I talked with Ivy Eagleton. Andrew had just ordered three dozen brownies from Elsie for the club picnic. Ivy commented that even though Andrew was club president, he was still supposed to go through an approval process for expenditures. She complained that he was always veering off the list of approved expenses. She added that it was probably why he was always having financial troubles of his own."
Briggs pulled out his notebook and wrote down a few sentences. "What was the second thing, the thing that won't hold up in court? I assume it has something to do with your nose."
"Yes, it all began with a very fragrant orange. Minnie had just finished peeling it when Elsie and I carried the cookies into that dreary little utility closet she's using as an office. The bright orange peels were piled high next to the metal cash box. The entire room was filled with citrusy aroma. For me, it was like standing in the middle of an orange tree orchard."
Briggs looked rightfully confused.
"I'm getting to the important part," I assured him. "I shook Minnie's hand. Naturally, I could smell the orange on my hand. She went to pay Elsie for the cookies, so she touched the metal box with her citrusy hands. A half hour later or so, I was introduced to Andrew. We shook hands."
Briggs sat up straight. "His hands smelled like oranges?"
"They sure did. At the time, I figured it was a coincidence or that Minnie had shared some of the orange with Andrew. I asked her but she said she never shared the orange."
"He could have eaten one on his own. It's something I'll ask when I talk to him." He wrote and spoke at the same time. "Do you think the scent on the metal box would be strong enough that if Andrew touched it to steal the money, you would be able to smell it on his hands?"
I arched a brow. "Are you questioning Samantha's super powers?" I asked.
"No, you're right. Silly me."
"Besides, oranges have such a strong smell, almost anyone would be able to smell it on their hands after just touching something with the scent."
"Good point." He sat back and flipped through his notes. His extra appealing detective's brow appeared as he considered all the possibilities.
I sat back and waited for him to look through his notes while putting together the whole theory clearly in my head. It was so organized now, I had to let Briggs hear it.
"Mason's friend, John, told me that Mason liked to get people in trouble," I started. "He once snapped photo evidence of an illicit romantic tryst, and he blackmailed the man into leaving the club because he didn't like the guy. What if Mason caught Andrew stealing from the cash box, and Andrew and he argued about it. Andrew didn't want to get in trouble or lose his standing with the club, so he killed Mason and deleted the photos on the camera to make sure no one ever found out."
Briggs smiled at me. "Maybe it's time to promote you from assistant to partner, Miss Pinkerton."
I curled my arm around his. "I'd like that but there's something we have to do first."
"Catch a killer?" he asked.
"You read my mind, Detective Briggs."
Chapter 35
With Andrew being the president of the West Coast Bird Watching Society, it was easy enough to track him down. He was sitting at an outside table that had been set up to catch visitors on their way into the auditorium. John was sitting with him. The two seemed to be enjoying the summer day as they sipped lemonades and ate hot dogs from the food court. A large umbrella embellished with various birds provided shade.
"Mr. Teslow," Briggs said as we reached the table. Andrew's back had been facing us, so our arrival was a surprise. His face looked cold as stone at first before he plastered on a gracious smile.
"Yes, Detective Briggs, did you need to see me again?" He said again with an edge of annoyance.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do need to talk to you."
John looked somewhat puzzled as he looked at Andrew and then Briggs. "Did they make an arrest?" he asked.
"Not yet," Briggs said.
"I don't understand," Andrew said angrily. "I just assumed you'd be taking Nora in. It couldn't be more obvious that she was the killer."
Briggs tilted his head side to side. "Actually, it's not that obvious at all. I would like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind. We can do it here or, perhaps, somewhere more private."
That request turned Andrew's suntanned face an odd shade of khaki gray.
Andrew took a showy, dramatic breath. "Fine but let me grab my hat. The sun is brutal out here." He leaned under the table and emerged with a floppy canvas hat like the kind my dad wore when fishing. It was adorned with a few pins and badges. He pulled it down over his head.
John pointed up at the hat. "Hey, Andy, looks like the red cardinal feather fell off your hat."
I pulled in a sharp breath, quiet enough that no one noticed. I held it as I sent my mind on a quick memory scavenger hunt. The day of the murder I'd picked up an unusual red feather. I pocketed it thinking it was just a fun souvenir to keep. I'd never considered it to be part of the crime scene. Where was it now?
Andrew grabbed the hat off his head and spun it around. "Must have fallen off." He was grumpy about having to talk to Briggs. He shoved the hat back on his head.
"My pocket," I said on a whisper.
Briggs glanced my direction. "Your pocket?"
I patted the shorts I was wea
ring. "I was wearing these same shorts on Tuesday." I reached into my pocket and felt the withered feather between my fingers. "They've been through the washer." My shoulders bounced in an apologetic shrug, only Briggs had no idea what I was apologizing for. My whole audience was more than a little confounded.
I withdrew my fingers with the washed red feather between them. It was still bright red but a much shabbier version of its former self. "I guess bird feathers don't like the wash cycle."
Andrew's face blanched as he stared at the frazzled red feather. "What is that? It's not mine," he added quickly.
"I found this the day Mason's body was discovered. It was on the forest floor near the murder scene." I smiled sheepishly at Briggs. "I thought it was just a pretty feather. It never occurred to me—"
Andrew flew over the table. The brochures and the membership cards blew up in a violent hurricane and littered the ground. Briggs took off after Andrew and caught up to him before Andrew got more than fifty yards. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of the high school football player when Briggs managed to tackle Andrew and bring him face down on the asphalt. Both men landed with a cringe-worthy grunt.
It took only seconds for a large swath of the visitors inside the auditorium to realize something far more exciting than bird toys and binoculars was happening outside. By the time a sizable crowd gathered, Briggs had cuffed Andrew (still face down on the pavement) and was reading him his rights.
It had been so much fun watching Briggs perform a totally made for television police tackle, I'd forgotten about John standing next to me until he spoke.
"So it was Andrew all along?" John's voice was dry with shock.
"I'm afraid Mason pushed his cruel schemes too far," I said.
More comprehension fell over John's face. "Andrew stole the money, and Mason had proof on his camera."
"That's pretty much the gist of it."
John shook his head. "I told Mason his evil ways were going to catch up to him someday. Seems I was right."
"You sure were. Too bad he didn't listen to his one and only friend. It might have saved his life."
Mayfield Police arrived moments later to take Andrew to jail. Briggs had a profound limp as he returned to the table. He looked to be in some significant pain.
"I was about to cheer you on from the sidelines, but it seems that might be badly timed," I said.
He gave a half grin. "Didn't hurt quite so bad when I was seventeen and wearing football gear." He circled behind the membership table and groaned as he leaned down to pick up Andrew's backpack. He rested the heavy pack on the table, unzipped it and rifled through it until he emerged victoriously with a stack of money. "Guess he didn't have time to spend much of it."
John sat down hard on the chair. "Can't believe Andrew did this. He was always such a decent guy." Minnie, Ivy and a few of the other members made their way through the onlookers toward the table. They looked as stunned as John.
"The sad thing is—" Briggs said to me as we stepped off to the side to let the club members commiserate. "The money theft would have gotten him six months tops. Now he's going away for a long time, maybe life."
I peered over at him. "Maybe there'll be a new Birdman of Alcatraz or whatever prison he finds himself in."
Briggs discretely took my hand and walked me farther away from the action.
"I'm sorry about the red feather, James. This might have been solved earlier if I hadn't stupidly put it in my pocket. It just didn't occur to me—"
He hugged me, stopping my apology midway. The gesture caused another groan. "This getting old stuff is for the birds," he said. "No apologies, you did good . . . partner."
Chapter 36
Lola spotted me climbing out of my car and sauntered across the street. "I hope you're happy, bestie. My boyfriend has decided to stay for the extra month because his boss told him he wasn't needed and that she was doing fine without him."
"I'm pretty sure I didn't use those exact words."
Lola pushed her hands into her pockets and rocked back and forth on her feet with a grin, as if she couldn't wait to tell me something that I probably wouldn't want to hear. I'd texted Amelia twice during the whole arrest event at the auditorium, but I never heard back from her. I assumed she was too busy with customers, but the smirk on Lola's face told me something had happened.
"Well, you might want to dial Ryder right back up because I think you just lost one of your assistants. Of course, I'm not privy to the details. All I know is what I saw through my shop windows as I was busy being a nosy antique seller."
I sighed loudly. "Oh no, did Barbara leave?"
"Not Barbara." She smirked. "Amelia. So I guess you'll need Ryder after all."
"Amelia? Are you sure?"
Lola cast a raised brow at me. "They're pretty easy to tell apart. I was busy cleaning my front window, all while giving therapy to your bird, who is, by the way, sitting on my counter pacing back and forth like an expectant father."
"What? Why is he there? Ugh, how could so much go wrong in such a short amount—" I checked my phone. "Oh jeez, guess catching the killer took a little longer than I thought. Poor Amelia. I'll call her and apologize."
"So you caught another psycho, did ya?" she asked.
"Not sure if he was psycho, but some people do make outrageously bad decisions." I glanced toward my shop. "I better find out what happened while I was gone. Although, I'm pretty sure I already know. I might have to fire Barbara after all."
"Probably a good idea, otherwise that crow is moving in with me for good." Lola headed back across the street. I took a deep breath so I could prepare myself for whatever awaited me in the shop. It was my fault. I shouldn't have stayed away so long.
I walked inside. Barbara was humming to herself as she swept up a pile of leaves and cut stems. "Oh, there you are. I wasn't sure if you wanted me to finish the orders that Amelia left undone."
"No, I'll do them. Where is Amelia?"
Barbara gave a non-committal shrug. "She said something about not feeling well, then she just left. Guess it's a good thing I was here to hold down the fort."
"Uh, yes, thank you." I was non-committal too. I looked pointedly at the perch. "And Kingston?" Even though I knew where he was, I was curious to see what Barbara had to say about his whereabouts.
Barbara glanced over at the perch and tried to pretend that she'd forgotten all about the fact that a crow lived in the shop during the day. "Oh, that's right. I haven't seen him. I think he went out about an hour ago."
"But I told you only I could let him out." My muscles grew a little tauter.
"Yes but he was sitting on his perch staring out the window longingly, so I let him out to have a little flight around the neighborhood. It's good for him. He's a wild bird, after all."
"No, there is not one wild bird feather on his body, and he always stares out the window. So does my cat but I assure you he is just watching the activity outside." I headed to my office but stopped and looked back at her. "Exactly when did Amelia decide she wasn't feeling well? She was fine when I left for lunch." (Especially because you were out of the shop, I wanted to add but didn't.)
Barbara held the broom with one hand and rubbed her temple with the other. "Let me think. Oh yes, she was sitting at the computer inputting order numbers, and I happened to glance at the monitor. I told her she was doing it wrong and that there was a much faster way to do it. Her face grew red. She hopped up and said she wasn't feeling well and that she had to go home. So she left." There wasn't even an ounce of comprehension in her words. Barbara was completely clueless about other people's feelings. She was great with flowers, but if I was going to have to choose between Barbara and Amelia there was no contest. Besides, it seemed Kingston might very well return to the wild if he had to stay in the shop with Barbara.
I took a deep breath. "Barbara, I'm going to give you a check for the hours you did this week, but I'm afraid this isn't going to work out for me."
She stared at me, unblinki
ng, for a long pause then laughed. "You're so funny."
"Actually, no, I'm totally serious. Please get your things. You can come back tomorrow to pick up your check."
She let the broom drop. "Fine, this shop was beneath my skill level anyhow."
"Great, then this works out the best for both of us."
Three minutes later, with a great deal of huffing and snorting, Barbara left the shop. I texted Amelia with the news and sent a long apology by email. She texted back a smiley face emoji with the words 'see you tomorrow'.
I sat at my desk and rested back. My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I badly wanted to write to Ryder and let him know I needed him back. But I stopped myself. It would be selfish and wrong. I'd just have to get through the rest of the summer on my own. I was finished trying to fill Ryder's shoes. And I was never again going to tease Elsie about not finding a suitable assistant. It seemed I just happened to get lucky the first time when I hired Ryder, and now my luck had run out. Thinking about the word assistant prompted me to reach for my phone.
I tapped the screen.
"Hello," Briggs' mellow, deep voice flowed through the phone.
"Say it one more time," I said.
"Say what?"
I softened my tone to make it sound flirty. "You know—the thing that makes me all giddy and flushed with excitement."
He sighed into the phone. "Partner."
"Just what a girl wants to hear."
Lemon Lavender Shortbread Cookies
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London Lovett is the author of the Port Danby, Starfire and Firefly Junction Cozy Mystery series. She loves getting caught up in a good mystery and baking delicious, new treats!
Cornflowers and Corpses Page 16
