Alibis & Angels

by Olivia Matthews

  Kerry leaned forward, drawing Heather’s attention. “I don’t think Opal’s back from the Board of Ed meeting yet.”

  Heather’s administrative assistant spared a quick glance for Penelope. As the statement left her lips, the look in Kerry’s powder blue eyes transitioned from confusion to shock and finally denial. Heather struggled with those same emotions. She blinked back more tears. Her cabinet—her friends—needed her to be strong.

  Heather looked around the table at her small but mighty team. With the exception of Penelope who Opal had hired after the election, everyone had worked together since the early days of Heather’s campaign. They were as close as a family. How would she find the words to tell them that they’d lost a valued member of that family?

  “I received devastating news a few minutes ago. I’m still trying to process it myself.” Heather met the eyes of each person at the table. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. Our friend Opal is dead.”

  Had her words been too blunt? Should she have taken more time to ease into the tragic news?

  Had Opal’s death been her fault? Heather shivered in reaction to the wayward thought.

  Shock blanked the expressions around the table. After a brief, stunned pause, their responses were swift and stark as they spoke over each other.

  “What? When?” Yolanda’s brown eyes widened in disbelief.

  “This must be a mistake.” Arneeka shook her head as though trying to reject the news.

  Heather slid the box of tissues to Arneeka. Her chief of staff took a tissue, then passed it down the table to the others.

  “I can’t believe it.” Kerry’s hand jerked up to cover her mouth.

  “She’s dead?” Tian’s almond-shaped ebony eyes pleaded for a retraction. She took a tissue, then shoved it toward Yolanda.

  “What. Happened?” Penelope spoke between sobs. Her wide brown eyes were wet in her round, youthful face. Her dark brown hair was scraped back into a bun at the nape of her neck.

  Heather drew a steadying breath. Her office still smelled of the light Italian dressing she’d used on the salad she’d brought from home. Sunlight poured into the room from the windows behind her desk to dance incongruously above the conference table.

  “A short time ago, two deputies came to my office to inform me of Opal’s . . .” Heather stopped, shaking her head. She just couldn’t say the word again. Not now. She continued. “Opal had attended the Board of Ed’s budget meeting this morning. The deputies think she fell down the stairs to the rear parking lot after the meeting.”

  The meeting she was supposed to attend. Heather’s gaze was drawn to the black plastic wastebasket under her desk.

  “She slipped?” Tian’s startled interjection broke the heavy silence.

  Heather brought her attention back to the table. “The deputies said her neck . . . was broken in the fall.”

  A collective gasp rose up from the table. Heather cupped her hand over Penelope’s left forearm as the other woman sobbed quietly beside her.

  Yolanda used a tissue to dry her tears. “Has her family been notified?”

  Heather swallowed past the lump that was burning her throat. “I just left a voice mail message for Deputy Fran Cole with Opal’s parents’ telephone number and home address.”

  Kerry sniffed, wiping her nose with one of the tissues. “I’ll make arrangements to send Opal’s family flowers from all of us.”

  “That would be very nice. Thank you, Kerry.” Heather wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “I’d also like to send her fiancé a condolence card.”

  Kerry made a note on her writing tablet. “I’ll take care of that, too.”

  “Thank you.” Heather turned back to the rest of the group. “Please speak with your staffs right away. They need to hear from us before they hear or read about it in the media. I’ll send you information on our available grief counseling services. The sessions are confidential and voluntary, of course, but I encourage everyone to consider contacting a counselor. We’ve known Opal for years. We may not even realize how deeply her death is affecting us.”

  “If I should get any media calls, how should I respond to their questions?” Tian wiped her nose.

  Heather’s mind flashed back to Shari’s pseudo-interview. “Let’s get ahead of this, please. Could you prepare a statement explaining that we’re all grieving Opal’s loss? Our thoughts and prayers are with her family and fiancé, of course. She was our friend as well as our colleague. But the media should direct specific questions to the sheriff’s office.” She squeezed Penelope’s forearm before letting her hand slip away. “Penny will be our interim director of finance and management.”

  Yolanda’s eyes softened with compassion. “Penny, let us know if there’s anything we can do to help you.”

  That kind of empathy was characteristic of her team. It always reinforced for Heather that she’d brought the right individuals together to serve Briar Coast. And it always went to her heart. “This is a difficult time for everyone in our office, but we’ll get through it together. Let’s keep our doors open for each other.”

  Arneeka sniffed. “Whatever we need, we’ll be there for each other.”

  “Any questions or final thoughts?” Heather looked at each member of her team. It seemed that they were still processing this painful event. “Please let me know if I should meet with your individual staffs or if we need to bring everyone together. Whatever you think would be best.”

  Heather’s heart broke as she watched her friends leave. Their movements were heavy and uncertain. Their shoulders slumped. She forced herself to turn away from the sight and cross back to her desk. As she dropped onto her chair, her gaze fell to the wastebasket beside her calves.

  She had no reason to believe the threatening messages that had been sent to her had anything to do with Opal’s death. Still she couldn’t shake the nagging sensation that the two were somehow linked. She dug through the used tissues, soiled napkins, chewing gum wrappers, and the orange peels from her midmorning snack until she spotted the crumpled note and envelope. She smoothed the items, then shoved them into her purse, which she kept locked in her bottom desk drawer.

  Now what? How would she prove—or disprove—a connection between these threats and Opal’s death?

  Chapter 5

  “Afternoon, Shari. Cup o’ joe?”

  Deputy Ted Tate’s offer stopped Shari midstride as she approached the deputy’s desk Monday afternoon. Her gaze swung to the homey and pristine coffee station in the quaint little cottage that masqueraded as the Briar Coast County Sheriff’s Office.

  The bullpen’s silver marble flooring and sunny yellow walls created a bright and cheerful environment. However, in the six months that she’d known Ted and his partner, Deputy Fran Cole, they’d done their best to make her feel unwelcome. Now the taciturn Ted was offering her coffee. Their relationship had undergone a complete one-hundred-and-eighty-degree shift since they’d worked together to catch the Briar Coast Cabin Resort owner’s killer, and Shari had given them perhaps more credit than they deserved in her Telegraph article.

  Shari noted Ted’s disarmingly sincere expression. Her editor had wanted her to be on better terms with the deputies, but it was never a good idea for a journalist to get cozy with the people on their beat. It would result in biased coverage, which would be unfair to her readers.

  “No thanks, Ted.” Declining coffee was difficult, but if the deputies’ java tasted as good as it smelled, she’d lose all objectivity.

  Shari exchanged a nod of greeting with Fran, whose desk backed up to Ted’s. There wasn’t even a speck of dust on Fran’s desk. Her manila folders were neatly filed on her credenza. Pens and pencils stood in a black plastic holder. Her coffee mug waited within easy reach of her right hand as she typed on her computer keyboard.

  In his opposing space, Ted’s desk looked like the victim of a burglary. Pens and pencils rolled across various layers of papers and manila folders. A dried coffee mug ring lay like a memento b
eside his computer keyboard. He seemed to be making some inroads on the chaos, though. His bronze nameplate was now visible on his desk. Shari hadn’t realized he had one.

  “Then have some pie.” Ted gestured over his shoulder toward the coffee station with his cracked and stained cream ceramic mug. The scent of warm apple pie floated around the room. The pastry sat in a bakery box branded with the cursive blue logo of the Briar Coast Café.

  Shari gestured toward Ted who sat slumped on his gray cushioned swivel chair. The deputy’s tan shirt and spruce green gabardine pants seemed a bit loose on him. “Have you lost more weight? What’s your secret to resisting the desserts you guys get every day?”

  Ted reached under the small mound of papers and folders on his desk and pulled out an orange. “Fruits and vegetables, but I’d rather have pie.”

  “You’re doing great, Ted,” Fran chimed in with encouragement before returning to whatever she was typing on her computer.

  Ted blushed. “Thanks, Frannie.”

  Shari hadn’t missed the admiration in Fran’s bottle green eyes. She didn’t think Ted had missed it, either. “Frannie?”

  Ted’s blush deepened. “That was a slip.” He shoved the orange back under the pile of papers on his desk.

  Fran ignored their exchange. She hit a few keys on her keyboard before giving Shari her attention. “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks.” The invitation to sit was another first for Shari in the sheriff’s office.

  Shari unfastened the black buttons of her midcalf-length, emerald green wool winter coat. She folded the coat on the back of the gray fabric guest chair before sitting. The office was cozy and warm compared to the frigid February temperatures beyond their doors.

  Fran gave her a curious look. “Are you here about Opal Lorrie’s death?”

  Shari crossed her right leg over her left and shifted to face Fran. “Has her family been notified?”

  “We just called them.” A cloud moved over Fran’s thin features. “They were devastated, of course. And now they have to tell their other kids.” Fran rubbed her eyes with the fingertips of her right hand as though trying to ease the heartache of the sympathy call.

  Shari swallowed to relieve the tightness in her throat. “I’m so sorry for their loss.”

  Ted swallowed a drink of his coffee. “We all are. You writing a story on it?”

  Shari didn’t sense the usual hostility from Ted when he asked that question. “Opal was a well-known and well-liked public servant. People will want to know how she died.”

  “Accident.” Ted balanced his right ankle on his left knee. He took a drink from his coffee mug. “She fell down the stairs to the Board of Ed’s rear parking lot.”

  “You won’t get much of a story from that.” Fran gestured toward Ted. “This death isn’t your usual murder investigation.”

  Shari pulled her reporter’s notepad and a pen from her oversized brick red handbag. “This story’s value will be in paying tribute to Opal as a public servant and perhaps offering readers some cautions about slip-and-fall accidents.”

  Ted made a face. “That’s not much of a story.”

  “Was Opal wearing heels?” Shari couldn’t recall Opal ever wearing high heels. With her shoe fetish, Shari would remember that.

  “She was wearing flats.” Fran confirmed Shari’s supposition.

  Shari glanced toward the front of the bullpen where a large picture window allowed a flood of natural light to bounce off the bright yellow walls. “It’s cold, but most of the ice has melted from the sidewalk.” She returned her attention to Ted. “Are the steps in disrepair?”

  Ted took a deeper drink of coffee. “No ice at the scene. Steps were fine.”

  Shari looked from Ted to Fran. “Was there anything unusual about the scene?”

  “I don’t think so.” Fran shook her head. “Nothing seemed out of place. Everything looked normal, except for Opal’s body, of course.”

  Ted shrugged his burly shoulders. “Nothing.”

  Shari rubbed her brow to ease the frown developing there. “Then what caused Opal to fall?”

  “Tripped.” Ted sounded like he was stating the obvious. Perhaps to him, he was. Shari was starting to wonder.

  “Falling is the second leading cause of accidental deaths, not just in this country, but around the world. Traffic accidents are the first.” Fran leaned back on her chair. “It’s unfortunate and tragic, but Opal’s death was a freak accident.”

  Shari could buy that, except... “Briar Coast’s municipal buildings are usually pretty well maintained, especially in the winter to keep people safe. Has anyone else ever died from a fall down those stairs or any municipal building stairs?”

  Fran looked to Ted, then back at Shari. “No.”

  * * *

  “It’s good to see you again, Mayor Stanley.” Sister Lou greeted the public servant with a handshake and a smile. She’d been called to the congregational office’s reception area late Monday afternoon to collect her unexpected guest.

  “Please call me Heather, Sister Lou.” Heather’s hands were exceptionally cold. It was as though she’d carried the black leather gloves clenched in her left hand when she should have been wearing them.

  Or perhaps Heather’s poor circulation had been brought about by whatever was weighing on her mind. The mayor’s expression was strained. Her smile was stiff. What had caused the haunted look in her wide violet eyes?

  “Thank you for that compliment, Heather.” Sister Lou released the mayor’s hand.

  Heather gave Sister Lou an apologetic look. “I’m sorry to interrupt you.”

  The uncertainty in Heather’s voice was another cause of concern. The mayor was known to be unapologetically assertive, forceful, and arrogant. What had caused this uncharacteristic vulnerability? “Let’s talk in my office.”

  “Thank you.” Heather’s relief was tangible.

  Sister Lou waved good-bye to the sister on duty at the office’s front desk. Heather fell into step beside Sister Lou as they walked the short distance down the wide hallway to Sister Lou’s office. Fluorescent lighting danced against the pale gold walls. Their steps were muted against the thick warm rose carpet. Their path took them past conference rooms, offices, administrative assistants’ desks, and a breakroom. Most of the doors were open, allowing Sister Lou to catch parts of murmured conversations and laughter.

  At her office, Sister Lou stepped aside and gestured for Heather to precede her across the threshold. She closed her door as the mayor shrugged out of her royal blue cashmere winter coat. Heather folded the garment over the back of the well-cushioned powder blue guest chair to the right of the walnut wood desk and settled onto the twin chair beside the wall. Sister Lou reclaimed the powder blue executive chair behind her desk.

  “How can I help you, Heather?” Sister Lou offered an encouraging smile.

  Heather leaned forward to set her black faux leather purse on the floor beside her feet. She straightened, flexing her shoulders beneath the navy jacket of her conservative pantsuit. “I need your help to find out who’s been sending me threatening messages.”

  Sister Lou inhaled a quick breath. She caught the sweet, comforting scent of white tea potpourri from the bowl on the bookcase beside her. Her eyes widened in shock and concern. “Someone’s threatening you?”

  Heather’s gaze was direct and emotionless. “I’ve received two letters that were obviously meant to intimidate me. They were sent anonymously, of course, by some coward, so I haven’t taken them seriously. Until today.”

  Sister Lou tensed. “What happened today that changed your mind?”

  “I received the second threatening letter this morning.” Heather’s voice trembled. She took a moment and a deep breath before continuing. “Opal, my finance director, attended a meeting for me. Now she’s dead.”

  Sister Lou gasped. Her right hand flew to cover her mouth. “Oh, dear Lord. I’m so sorry.”

  “The deputies believe she fell down a short flight of
stairs.” Heather’s gaze lowered to her clasped hands on her lap.

  Sister Lou rose and circled her desk. She sat sideways on the guest chair beside Heather’s and took the other woman’s hands in hers. Even though her office was warm, Heather’s slender fingers were cold and trembling. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Opal Lorrie was a wonderful person with a promising future. She’ll be missed by so many people.”

  Heather’s head was bowed. Her hair swung forward to mask her profile. Sister Lou didn’t think the mayor had heard the words she’d spoken. She had the sense that Heather had turned her attention inward. Sister Lou felt the other woman’s grief as her own. Tears fell from Heather’s eyes and landed on the back of Sister Lou’s hand as she held the grieving woman’s fingers.

  “She was driving my car. Wearing my coat.” Heather seemed to be speaking to herself.

  Sister Lou tightened her hold on Heather’s hands. “Are you saying you don’t believe this was an accident?”

  “I’m sorry,” Heather mumbled, using her fingertips to wipe her tears from the back of Sister Lou’s hand.

  “There’s no need to apologize.” Sister Lou drew back her hands. “Do you think the person behind these anonymous letters is responsible for Opal’s death?”

  Heather lifted her head to meet Sister Lou’s gaze. Her eyes were pink and wet with tears. “Yes, I do. I can’t prove it, but I can’t believe that she just tripped.”

  “Have you shared your suspicions with the deputies?”

  “What am I supposed to tell them?” Heather stood to pace Sister Lou’s office with jerky, impatient steps. “That I think the anonymous coward who’s been sending me threatening letters pushed a member of my team down well-maintained municipal steps to her death? They’ll think that I’m crazy.”

  Sister Lou tracked Heather’s movements. “They won’t think that. You’re the mayor.”

  Heather sent Sister Lou a skeptical look from over her shoulder. The public servant spun on her navy heels to pace away from the large rear window. She turned her back to the late winter scene of barren trees and evergreen bushes. The access road wound its way past rolling lawns just beginning to emerge from the snow.