by Kay Finch
“All interesting points,” he said.
“So you’ll check into these things?”
“I will, beginning when you leave my office so I can work.”
“Oh.” I lifted Hitchcock and stood on uneasy legs.
The sheriff stroked Hitchcock’s head. “You watch over Sabrina. Make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.”
“Mrreow,” Hitchcock said.
“And Sabrina,” the sheriff continued. “This is an ongoing investigation. What we discussed here today stays between us.”
“Got it,” I said.
“I promise I’ll investigate every angle.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
As we left the sheriff’s office, I checked the sky. Clouds had covered the sun and the day seemed dreary, like my thoughts. I wondered if Tyanne knew any of this yet. Lord, I hoped she didn’t know, but I didn’t want Bryan keeping information from her either. What I wanted was for the sheriff to find the killer and lock that person up.
I started the car and drove, not sure where I was going or what I would do next. I drove through town with a million thoughts rushing through my head and found myself at the library construction site. I pulled off the side of the road and shifted into Park, stared at the building that one day soon would hold a copy of Scarlett’s Run. My longtime dream was coming true.
I remembered Jane’s excitement about books, the new library, her new position. I could see where her over-the-top exuberance might get her in trouble at times, but not killed, for heaven’s sake. The whole thing was making me crazy. I had to do something.
I looked at Hitchcock. “First, coffee.”
He blinked at me.
I drove to Hot Stuff and parked where I could see the car from the “To Go” counter so I could keep an eye on my cat.
I patted Hitchcock’s head. “I’ll get the coffee to go and be back in a flash.”
He glared at me and turned away. I imagined him thinking, I’ve heard that before.
Inside, the song “YMCA” blared through the speakers. There was a lull in business, which suited my purposes. I noticed Pauline taking an order at the table where I often sat to write. Max was behind the counter, and he met me there.
“You’re making yourself pretty scarce this week,” he said. “Not writing?”
“I’m working at home,” I said. “Lots going on.”
“I know that’s right. What can I get you?”
“The usual.”
He turned to the counter behind him to prepare my sixteen-ounce to go. I resolved to avoid saying anything even slightly related to my conversation with Sheriff Crawford.
I watched Pauline refilling coffee mugs while the customers leaned as far away from the table as they could to avoid possible coffee splashes. The woman seemed off-balance, like she might topple at any second. I could hear her nervous giggle from where I stood despite the boisterous “Y-M-C-A” chorus.
I returned my attention to Max. “How’s Pauline doing?”
He made a so-so motion with one hand. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about her. She’s not improving.”
“One good thing about being a writer,” I said. “No employees to worry about.”
“Lucky you.” He finished with my coffee and turned around to collect my payment. When I headed for the door, he came around the counter and walked outside with me. I thought he planned to continue with comments about Pauline.
“Heck of a thing about Jane’s car showing up, huh?” He leaned closer. “Tyanne’s husband had nothing to do with her death. I don’t care whose cigarette butt they found by the car door.”
“It was outside the car?” I blurted before I could stop myself.
His eyes widened. “I assumed you knew. You just came from talking to the sheriff.”
Nothing was sacred in this town. I scowled at him. “How do you know that?”
“I have ways.” He raised his eyebrows, then noticed my expression. “Sorry, we have a lot of blabbermouths around here.”
“Apparently so,” I said.
“Anyway, don’t worry about me. I wouldn’t say one thing to point the finger at Bryan. He’s innocent, even if that’s the off-brand of cigarettes that only Bryan smokes.”
My heart rate sped up. “Says who?”
“The other guys, I guess,” Max said.
“I’m sure he’s not the only person who smokes them,” I said. “That’s a ridiculous statement.”
“Might be the only one out at the construction site,” Max said. “Anyhow, the DNA testing will tell the real story. I hear the butt’s already been sent off to a lab.”
My hand was wrapped so tightly around the coffee the cup was buckling. I focused on loosening my grip. “I need to run. Hitchcock is waiting in the car. I’m keeping him close to me while those ladies are in town.”
“The bucket list group?” Max said.
“Yup. At least one of them believes Hitchcock causes bad luck. Makes me want to steer clear of the cottages until they leave town.”
“At least you’re safe for the day,” he said. “The group came in here earlier with your aunt. They’re headed over to Dawson’s Peak today to try zip-lining.”
Chapter 24
I must have been born with an overzealous worry gene. Yesterday, Hitchcock headed my list of concerns. Today, Aunt Rowe and Bryan Clark vied for the top spot. Neither of them would want me nosing into their business or, heaven forbid, telling them what they should or should not do. My worries about Bryan included Ty and the whole family, and for that reason his cause carried more weight.
Aunt Rowe had told me she wouldn’t try skydiving and risk breaking her leg again. I had to believe she would apply the same sound logic when it came to zip-lining. I couldn’t claim to have firsthand knowledge of the activity, but it sounded risky and I would have felt a lot better if she opted out.
I reached an intersection and paused to look each way. Made a decision and turned left.
Sorry, Sheriff, I’m not going home. Not yet.
If memory served, the project Bryan was currently working on for the house-flipping couple was in the subdivision of Woodbridge ten or so miles outside town. I had never been there, but I’d driven through the area often enough to have seen the sign.
Hitchcock stood on the passenger seat with his front paws on the door sill. He watched the scenery pass, perfectly content to be headed out on a new adventure. I had the end of his harness leash looped around my right thigh. I needed a better plan to keep Hitchcock secure if I planned to continue making road trips with him. A challenge for another day.
Decorative brick walls stood on either side of the entrance to Woodbridge, accented by well-kept landscaping that included what looked like hundreds of freshly planted pink-and-white begonias. I coasted down the main street and looked left and right, my eyes peeled for Bryan’s truck.
I rationalized my plan to butt into his life—he might welcome a fresh ear, a confidante, or need help with his predicament. Maybe he thought keeping things from his family protected them from the stressful situation. In my opinion, however, what they didn’t know would hurt more.
Dang it, I wanted to confront the man and demand he tell me what the heck was going on with him. That would quickly backfire on me. I’d have to approach Bryan with as much finesse as I could muster. And with no mention of my talk with the sheriff, who’d be mighty unhappy if he knew I was here.
Woodbridge looked like a nice place to live, one that I might consider if I ever wanted to buy a house of my own. The subdivision held mostly one-stories that I guessed were built in the eighties. The era of homes targeted by house flippers—old enough to need updating but new enough that the necessary work wouldn’t cost a fortune.
At this time on a weekday, the neighborhood was relatively deserted. I turned off the main drag to go up and down side streets and soon spotted the Clark Electric truck. I was glad to see that his was the only vehicle in sight. What I wanted to discuss needed to b
e said in private, so I hoped he hadn’t brought an assistant with him today.
I pulled to the curb out front and looked at Hitchcock. “I’m sure Bryan will be thrilled to see us.”
“Mrreow,” Hitchcock said in what I’m sure was a sarcastic tone.
We got out of the car and headed up the sidewalk toward the front door. I heard what sounded like a drill coming from behind the house, so I detoured in that direction. I found Bryan poised on a stepladder beside the back door with a battery-operated drill in hand. He was fiddling with a corroded, dusty light fixture still fastened to the house. A box with a new fixture pictured on the side sat on the nearby patio table.
Bryan saw me from the corner of his eye and lowered the drill to rest on top of the ladder.
“Sabrina. What are you doing here?” He looked down at Hitchcock, who was busy sniffing at weeds coming up from a crack in the concrete patio.
“Saw your truck and thought we’d stop and say hello,” I said.
He lowered his chin and looked me in the eye. “Try again.”
“All right,” I said. “I’m a worrier, and I came looking for you.”
“Why?” he said.
“Because I’m trying to figure out what happened to Jane before you get in more trouble than you might already be in.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he said with a frown. “Did my wife send you?”
“No. She has no idea I’m here.”
“Good.” He lifted the drill as if he meant to go right back to work.
“That’s it?” I said. “You have nothing more to say?”
He looked back at me. “Not to you, I don’t. The sheriff already has my statement.”
“Did he ask you why you lied?” I said.
Bryan glared at me. “Why are you wasting your time here? This is none of your business.”
“Maybe not, but the case is still unsolved. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Sure,” he said, “but the sheriff doesn’t need amateurs nosing around. Go home, Sabrina. Mind your own business.”
He fit the drill bit into one of the screws that held the old fixture to the wall and removed the screw. He went on to remove the rest of them until the fixture hung by wires.
I said, “Sometimes it pays to be proactive no matter what other people think.” When he didn’t reply, I said, “Bryan, I want to help.”
He held out a hand toward me. “Here, you can take these screws. They’re garbage.”
That’s not what I meant.
I walked over to him, and he dropped the old screws into my hand before unhooking the wires from the light. I walked to the side of the garage to drop the screws into a garbage can. Hitchcock stretched the leash to reach grass, where he pounced on an insect. Bryan came down the stepladder, light in hand. He placed the old fixture on the table, then turned to me.
“What do you propose?” he said.
“First, I’d like to know more about the other guys who worked on the library. Did any of them have a reason for wanting Jane gone?”
He heaved a deep sigh. “If they did, I wouldn’t know.”
“You ever see people hanging around? Other than those on the crew?”
“Besides Jane, no. She came out there all the time. Sometimes two, three times a day. Always criticizing, like we didn’t know how to do our jobs.”
“I’m sure that didn’t go over well,” I said.
“Not with Shane Wilson it didn’t. He was already maxed out with demands from the boss.”
“You ever see him arguing with Jane?”
He paused for a few seconds, then said, “Maybe.”
“About what?”
Bryan shrugged.
“Look, Bryan, you’re right. I should be at home minding my own business, writing my book. But I couldn’t stand it if the wrong person gets blamed for killing Jane.”
“What can I do about that?”
“Sounds like you saw her a good number of times when she nosed around the construction site. There could be something important you’re not remembering.”
Bryan pulled out a pocketknife to slit open the box holding the new light fixture. “A lot of the guys reacted to Jane. You know, with the catcalls and suggestive comments. Mostly when Wilson wasn’t around to hear.”
“I can imagine.”
He pulled a piece of Styrofoam from the box and placed it on the table. “I didn’t get it myself. I mean, she dressed real plain, like she didn’t want attention. That woman was one hundred percent about the library.”
“Yeah. I got that from one short talk with her.”
Hitchcock jumped up on the table and scratched the side of his face against the cardboard box flap. Bryan absentmindedly touched the cat’s back.
“What happened between you and Jane?” I said.
He gave his head a little shake. “A dumb accident, that’s all.”
“Tell me about it.”
“She wasn’t even supposed to be on the site without a hard hat. Always said she didn’t need one ’cause she had a hard head. Man oh man, could I believe that one.”
He removed more packing from the box and set it aside, then pulled out the installation instructions. I waited for him to go on.
“Jane came inside where I was wiring the ceiling for recessed lights—the standard type, nothing special. Wasn’t good enough for her—she went on about how we should put in some new-fangled brand I never heard of. The woman got on my nerves something terrible, didn’t care what the specs said. I told her we were sticking with the plan. She wouldn’t shut up about it, and I was sick and tired of listening so I got in her face and told her to leave.”
“Probably not in the same tone of voice you’re using now,” I said.
“Not even close. I was at the end of my rope with her. I got loud. By that point I was yelling and finger pointing. Might have scared her a little ’cause she backed up. Her foot got caught in the extension cord.”
“Oh, no.”
Hitchcock came around the box to Bryan and brushed against his shirt. The cat’s motor was running loud, as if to calm Bryan while he recalled the bad memory.
Bryan stroked Hitchcock’s fur. “Guys came in to see what the yelling was about, in time to see her go down and land on the concrete floor. They thought I shoved her, but I swear I didn’t.”
“So this was the first piece of the puzzle,” I said.
“What puzzle?”
“The one Deputy Rosales is putting together.”
“Oh, her.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s another one could push my buttons pretty easy.”
“Mine, too, but you’d better keep a lid on the temper.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“How do you get along with the other guys?” I said. “Any feuds, past or present?”
“Never,” he said.
“Any reason you know of somebody would set you up?”
He looked at me, eyes narrowed. “You know about the cigarette butt.”
“Yes, and I’m not the only one.”
A flash of dismay passed over his expression. “Does Ty know?”
“I haven’t talked to her, but people at the coffee shop know so it won’t be long. She’s bound to hear the rumor.”
“Hell.” He dropped his head, staring into the box.
“Mrreow.” Hitchcock looked up into Bryan’s face.
“Hitchcock can be a good stress reliever,” I said.
Bryan half-heartedly scratched the cat’s chin.
“When did you go back to smoking?”
He blew out a breath. “A couple months ago, but don’t go telling Tyanne. She doesn’t know.”
I almost laughed. She must have smelled smoke on his clothes if not on his breath.
“I’m smoking an off-brand,” he said. “Trying not to enjoy them too much.”
“You’d have probably been better off with Marlboros or something common under the circumstances.”
“Tell me about it,” he said, “but that ship ha
s sailed.”
“Is there anything else for them to find, like your prints inside Jane’s car?”
“I’ve never been in that car, not once.”
“Good, ’cause anybody could have planted one of your cigarette butts outside the car.”
“Anyone who knew where the car was,” he said. “That’s what I told the sheriff.”
“I hope you’ve established a solid alibi. These other pieces don’t give them enough to pin this on you.”
“Sheriff knows my alibi.”
“Ty said you were looking for a receipt.”
He nodded. “I have a receipt.”
“Where were you that night?”
“Over near Emerald Springs.”
“Ty said something about you running over there for supplies. Is your name on the receipt or only the name of your company? I mean, does it definitely prove you were there in person?”
He stood and turned back toward his work. “Yes. I was there in person.”
I stood, too, and walked around so I could see his face. “This is not the time to hide facts.”
“I didn’t hide one thing from the sheriff,” he said, his voice raised.
“So why’s it bothering you that I’m asking?”
“You’re starting to remind me of Jane.”
“I’m trying to help. If we figure out what happened, we can get you off the hook before this goes too far.”
He turned away, blew out a breath, then faced me again. “Look, Sabrina, I appreciate it. My alibi is kind of a secret. I’d rather not say.”
I raised my voice. “You can’t keep an alibi secret.”
“Well, I can keep it from you. Back off. The sheriff knows everything.”
“Then it’s not a secret. I don’t understand.”
“It’s a secret from you and from Tyanne.”
“You’d rather your wife worry that you’ll be arrested than reveal some secret? That’s ridiculous.”
“Trust me on this, Sabrina. The time will come to reveal the secret—soon—and it has nothing at all to do with Jane’s death. Nothing.”
