by Cat Larson
If he did, I hoped he borrowed it to buy an engagement ring.
“Yeah. And he can tack on another five for effing up my car. After what he pulled, that’s the last time he’s touching it. I ain’t falling for any more sob stories.”
The nausea intensified. Oh, Violet. What did you do? “What’s wrong with—wait a minute.” I flashed back to what Mrs. Geller had told me. “Fernando used your car?”
Which meant that Violet had taken off in Sal’s car. Not good. At. All.
“If by used, you mean abandoned in the middle of a cornfield in Caledonia, buried in a snowbank, then yeah. He’s lucky I have a tracking device, else I would’ve been really ticked off.”
I gulped. He sounded angry enough already. The last thing I needed was for him to show up here and start poking around for his brother. “Maybe it was stolen? Someone could’ve taken it out for a joyride and…” I shut up, realizing I was hurting the situation. Of course, it’d been stolen. I didn’t need to advertise it.
It didn’t matter anyway because he ignored me.
“Do you know how hard it is to scrub wet grass off interior?” he said.
“Wet grass?”
“Whatever that mutt rolled in got everywhere. Stained it too.”
“Stained?”
“Your idiot boyfriend’s paying for this big-time. Unless you’d like to settle up on his behalf?”
“Settle up?” I flicked myself in the forehead. I was starting to sound like a confused parrot. “But I… I don’t have any money. And he’s not an idiot. He’s your brother, and isn’t family supposed to forgive?”
He snorted, and I almost did as well. I was one to talk about forgiving a sibling.
“Just tell him to step up and be a man, else I’m coming for him.”
The line went dead. Tell him to be a man. Good one. If only it were that easy.
There was no way I was going back to sleep after this. I flipped on a light and began the prerequisite pacing. It was only a matter of hours before sunrise. At least there’d be no chance of oversleeping now.
Fernando was nowhere in sight. I didn’t know if that indicated guilt or embarrassment. Or maybe it meant something else entirely. He could’ve been snoozing away, oblivious to everything.
So… I tapped my fingertips together. My fiancé owed money and my sister had vandalized Sal’s car. It was never Fernando’s. I scanned my memory bank, trying to recall if he’d ever lied to me. I felt assured that he hadn’t. He’d never claimed the car was his; I’d just assumed because he drove it. Other times, he’d come to my apartment on foot, which I never questioned because walking was a given downtown.
I stomped around as if the heavy pounding would reverberate up to my brain and snap the pieces into place faster. Ha! Joke’s on me. If anything, it gave me a headache, making me more muddled than ever.
What information did I have to work with? For starters, there appeared to have been some weird grass incident that occurred either before or after Violet spelled Fernando. She then took off in Sal’s car and drove to Caledonia. Given the size of the rural town, it shouldn’t have proved too difficult to locate the field Sal had referred to. I strongly considered breaking Officer Damon’s inane town-detention rule and traveling there myself. Then logic took over. It’d all happened days earlier and there’d been a blizzard to cover up any tracks. The farmland went on for miles. If there had been any evidence scattered about, Sal would’ve surely discovered it.
I let out a rush of air. The next question—how in the world had she left the cornfield? It wasn’t like she could’ve hailed a nonexistent cab, and there were no bus or train stations in the vicinity. But somehow—hitching a ride?—she’d ended up back in Bigfoot Bay the morning of the festival and managed to take care of Misty before going into hiding again. It was enough to make me feel as if I were drowning in a teaspoon of water.
I returned to the bedroom and looked under the bed. After leaving the coffee house half a day earlier, I’d scoured Violet’s shop from top to bottom, searching for anything that could shed some light. There was nothing out of the ordinary from what you’d expect to find in a soap/tea/stationery store.
The half-full cup shoved to the back of the shelf with murky leaves floating on top that resembled a tribal mask was a little weird, but considering Violet’s witchy “talent” was reading tea leaves, even that wasn’t too out of place.
The only thing I wasn’t able to investigate sat underneath the bed. I dragged out the locked box again and shook it. I hadn’t found a key on the premises and that drove me nuts. I was close to busting it open but hadn’t sunk to that low yet. Violet was the impulsive one. I refused to stoop to her level by doing something she would do.
But then again… What was even the right thing in this situation? What if the box contained something that could help Fernando? No. I kicked it back under the bed. Unless Violet had shrunk herself and was hiding inside, I doubted anything in there would help. It was probably just filled with tax receipts and business stuff.
The only thing left to do now was wait.
The closer it got to dawn, the heavier my lids became. At one point, I had to hold them open, using my fingers as toothpicks. That settled it. If I had to stay here just one more morning, I was buying a coffeemaker.
When Fernando finally decided to show his little green face, I took that as my cue to pack him up and leave. The sun would rise soon enough anyway.
As I crunched softly over the snow-covered street, I did my best to ignore the peaceful air that blanketed me. Instead, I tried focusing on the sharp chill that stung my nose. For I knew the more I acknowledged the serenity, the more the town would draw me back in. I could feel it happening already, wrapping its gentle breeze around me, whispering sweet nothings in my ear. I tugged my hat farther down to stop the madness.
This was not my home any longer. I’d made that decision years before, and I was sticking to it. Take that, Bigfoot Bay. Pick another girl to woo because your charms aren’t working on this one.
I neared the park; the ice sculptures were fenced off, but the footbridge was free. There wasn’t a soul around and that was a bit of a letdown. I wasn’t expecting a welcoming party, just one person who shared my DNA.
As the sun made its appearance over the horizon, I became gloomier. I’d put a lot of faith into what Mrs. Stein had told me, and I’d fooled myself into believing Violet would be on the bridge again. I stood alone, gazing out on the frozen lake, feeling as trapped as a fish caught beneath it.
“Oh, Fernando. What are we going to do now?”
What? I pivoted, my eyes widening. The trash can at the bottom of the footbridge was smoking. I swung my head around in a panic, searching for something to smother the fire. That had been my first impulse, until I’d realized I was overreacting and the entire town would not be engulfed in flames soon. It was only a dense fog. But a dense fog originating from a garbage can? I went over to check it out.
Tilted on its side was a paper cup from Bigfoot Café, piled atop the garbage. Steam swirled out of the top. It was one of those wacky drinks, and it was still active. How old was it anyway? I wasn’t a dry ice expert, but I couldn’t imagine the effects would last too long.
I hadn’t noticed anyone around the area when I’d arrived, and I’d definitely been looking. The steam was now dissipating so quickly, I was convinced that whoever had tossed it out had just been here recently. Even with my somber mood clouding things up, it didn’t seem possible that I’d miss them.
The B&B was a stone’s throw away and there was light coming from the kitchen. If Mrs. Stein had seen Violet from her window, there was a good chance she’d also seen whoever was by the trash can.
I pushed aside my rapidly beating heart and crept toward the back door. But the more I tiptoed, the more I resembled a shady criminal. It wasn’t wise on my part to sneak around after Misty’s mishap. I imagined Mrs. Stein running out, iron skillet in hand, ready to clobber the figure slinking around the buil
ding at daybreak.
I straightened, making myself appear as harmless as possible, and walked right up to the kitchen door, rapping softly. I knew she was up preparing breakfast, unlike any off-season guest who’d be sleeping.
No answer. I tried again a bit louder. Then I sidled over to the window, only to immediately hurl backward into a heap of snow. At least I hadn’t screamed; considering what had glared back at me, that was quite impressive. I looked up from my accidental snow angel into the angry face of a woman interrupted.
I smiled through my shudder, giving her a little wave, and was rewarded with a deeper scowl. The face disappeared, and I pushed up and brushed myself off, wondering what I’d gotten myself into.
I peeked inside my purse to check how Fernando had fared the fall and saw a disgruntled frog. Then he ducked under the scarf. Hmm. That wasn’t such a bad idea. If I left now, I’d be back at Violet’s early enough to hide out under the covers for another couple hours.
What was I talking about? Woman up, Samm. I couldn’t leave. This was too important. I smacked my forehead. I mean Eve.
“You pounding the screws back into your head?”
“What?”
Mrs. Stein eyed me through the cracked open door. “What’re doing prowling around my kitchen this time of day, girl?”
“Um.” My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I needed to get a grip. There wasn’t anything to be nervous about; I wasn’t a little kid anymore. She was just a troll. Ugh. I jerked my head. I meant wizzled, old woman.
“You having a seizure or something?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs. Stein, but did you see anyone on the footbridge this morning? Besides me, of course.”
She stared at me like I had tarantula legs for eyelashes. “No.” Then she tried shutting the door in my face.
“Wait!” I stuck out my foot. “Please. This is really important.”
“I already said no.”
“I have another question.” She didn’t respond, but at least she didn’t stomp on my foot. “You told me at the ice festival that you saw Violet Friday morning around this same time. Are you positive it was her?”
She snorted. “You think anyone else around here looks like a walking cherry? Between her coat and that hair, she’s so bright it burns my eyeballs just talking about it.”
I was familiar with the coat she spoke of, and it was… distinctive, but still. Owning a red coat wasn’t that outlandish, but I wouldn’t expect Mrs. Stein to appreciate anything other than shades of burlap.
“That’s all you were going on—a coat? You didn’t actually see her?”
She gave me a ‘you’re too stupid to live’ look. “You’re wasting my time, girl. I was patient long enough, answering dumb questions, but these flapjacks ain’t gonna flip themselves.”
She closed the door before I could get a word out, followed by the window shades. I huffed. Well, that’s that.
But instead of feeling deflated, my bubble expanded. It wasn’t the most enlightening of conversations, but I’d made it through a one-on-one with Mrs. Stein and lived to tell the tale. I wasn’t struggling to crawl out of her stew pot while she batted me down with a wooden spoon, so I took that as my good omen for the day, my kick in the pants. No more feeling sorry for myself. It was time to toss my tiny violin over the bridge.
Next up: ice sculptures.
I followed the fence line until I arrived near the back where the ice tunnel was. The area was not only fenced off but also had the customary yellow police tape circling it. I no longer had the benefit of darkness to conceal me, but I still had the morning hours of early March on my side. Unless it magically turned into a hot summer day, there wouldn’t be anyone, save for a polar bear, venturing down to the lakefront to claim their spot.
After a quick inspection, I hopped the fence and crept to the tunnel. I was closer to the exit; I’d check there first. After that, I’d investigate the entrance. Misty had been found somewhere in the middle, and her body and the surrounding ice had been removed, but the rest of the tunnel remained intact. Even so, I wasn’t brave or desperate enough to crawl through those parts just yet. Hopefully, it wouldn’t even come to that. I could end up finding what I was searching for right away, even if I hadn’t a clue what that was. I’d take anything that gave me a shred of hope.
Although, discovering a note stating Violet’s whereabouts would be most appreciated.
I strolled around as if I were on a casual Sunday walk in the park, which I suppose I was. I just shouldn’t have been doing it inside a blocked-off crime scene. I squatted down in front of the tunnel’s exit and peered inside. A flash of color caught my eye several feet in, plastered against the wall. It was greenish and looked like a blade of grass. Yeah, the ground was covered in snow, but it still wasn’t out of the ordinary to see a piece of grass pop up here and there. I was going to disregard it and walk around to the entrance when something told me to snatch it up.
I reached in and plucked it off the wall, bringing it closer for inspection. It wasn’t grass but—
“What are you doing?”
I jerked back, stuffing the greenery in my pocket, pulse zooming like a chupacabra on a motorbike. Great. Just great. I slowly spun around.
“Hello, Officer Kane.” Mike was also standing right outside the fence, but he looked much less uptight. Whereas, Damon’s arms were about to snap off from him crossing them so tightly. “And good morning, Officer Hansen.”
Mike fought back a smile. “Hi, Samm.”
I nibbled on my lips, wondering how much trouble I was in. “Wow, you guys are stealthy. It’s not nice to sneak up on someone before they’ve had their coffee.” I clutched my chest for effect.
Damon sighed loudly, unnecessarily. His stance already told me I wouldn’t be deemed Most Favorite Person that day. “Do you not understand what ‘keep out’ means?”
I raised my shoulders. “Yes?”
Damon dropped his head. “Samm.”
“Yes?”
“Get out of there.”
“Okay.”
I ducked under the tape and vaulted back over the fence. If they really wanted to keep people out, they should’ve made it more challenging. I wasn’t exactly a track star, and I could easily hurdle it.
“Were you just about to go inside that ice tunnel?” Damon asked.
“What? No!”
“That’s what it looked like to me.”
“I was only investigating the outside. Honest.”
“You don’t think we’re doing a good enough job?”
“It’s not that.” I held my purse as close to me as possible without making it obvious I was hiding something. Did he have the right to search it? “I just stopped by to see if anything triggered my memory so I could help you boys solve the case more quickly.”
“If we need your help, we’ll let you know. Until then, stay out of it.”
“That’s kind of hard to do when your entire life is wrapped up in the outcome.” Damon cocked an eyebrow. It was a dramatic statement but true.
“It’s not safe to be around the unmaintained sculptures. If any of these icicles would happen to break off while you’re near them—”
“I understand,” I said, cutting him off. “Perfectly.” I gave them a big smile. “So, what are you two up to this morning?”
Mike’s lips curved up, but surprise, surprise, Damon’s expression was a tad grumpier.
“Samm.”
“Yes?”
“Leave.”
“Right.”
I saluted him and walked back toward the street, my feet leading me straight in the direction of Bigfoot Café. I had a hankering for coffee with a side of information.
This time when I peered into the coffee house window, there were a good number of people inside. Once I was sure Griffin wasn’t one of them, I went in. I was not in the mood to defend my expedition to the footbridge, and I knew he’d ask.
Clare wasn’t behind the counter
but instead a Zen-looking guy who appeared anything but at the moment. It was a shame that strands of his long, beautiful dreads would probably be all over the floor before his shift was over. There was only one of him and a dozen impatient customers in line. Dang. It obviously wasn’t the best time to ask questions and expect more than a frazzled grunt in response.
As I waited my turn—there was no way I was skipping the coffee—I planned my next errand. I’d tack a few chocolate muffins on to my order and then swing by Amy’s. I didn’t know what time she woke up, but at this rate, it’d probably be noon before I got out of here anyway.
Finally, I was at the head of the line and greeted with a sigh. “Yes, can I help you?”
I felt for the guy. If barista had been one of the many items listed on my resume, I would’ve jumped over the counter and given him a chance to catch his breath.
“A large dark roast, please.” I pointed to the pastry case. “And three of those double chocolate muffins. To go.”
His shoulders looked like a couple of elephants had been removed from them. “Thanks for not ordering the drink special. Those things are killer.”
My heart sped up. “Killer?” My luck had turned. Was this man forking over an easy clue along with my bag of muffins? I tucked them alongside my purse.
“Yeah, everyone wants one and they take so freaking long to make. I can’t wait till we stop serving them.”
Oh right. They weren’t literally a killer, of course. Did I think I was in a Murder, She Wrote episode?
He poured my effortless coffee and set the cup on the counter. “Everyone wants them, huh?” I asked.
“Yep.” He rang me up as I took a sip. Delicious.
“So, if I asked you who ordered one bright and early this morning right when the café opened, what would you say?”
He handed me my card. “I wouldn’t say anything. I’d just laugh.” Argh. That was what I figured. “Besides, I wasn’t even here then. It was supposed to be my day off, but the person scheduled went home sick and I had to come in.”
“Sorry to hear that.” I stepped aside to let the next in line place her order. I’d already taken up too much of his time, but I had the feeling he’d welcomed the break. “Well, hang in there and have a nice day.”
