by Polly Holmes
A crimson blush covered Mish’s cheeks. “So, you see, Charlie couldn’t have killed Pierre.”
“Of course he could have. We still don’t know his alibi,” Logan said, obviously frustrated.
Michelle twisted her hands together nervously. “He was with me, all right? At the time Pierre was murdered, he was with me.”
“What do you mean with you?” Logan asked.
Michelle huffed. “As in, we stepped outside to discuss how long we were going to keep our relationship secret in a town of gossipy women, considering I’m five months pregnant with his baby.”
A stunned gasp echoed behind Mish and she spun in her chair to see Alex’s expression. “I knew it. I knew it. I knew something hasn’t been right for a while now. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Michelle shot from her chair. “I-I don’t know. I wanted to. I really did, but then I didn’t know how you’d react, and I love working here. I didn’t want to jeopardise our friendship or my job. You know how people can gossip in this town and the age gap between Charlie and me is so big. We just didn’t want all the disgusted looks as people walked past.”
“Nonsense. Do you love him?” Alex asked.
Michelle glowed and it was clear as a summer sky that she was in love. “With my whole heart.”
“Then that’s all that matters.” Alex threw her arms around Michelle and squeezed tight. “I’m going to be an auntie.” She pulled back and her eyes narrowed suspiciously at Michelle. “Wait… Five months? Is that why you were calling in sick just before the Christmas Fair last December?”
Michelle nodded. “Yes. I don’t know why they call it morning sickness when it hits you at any time of the day.”
“So, it was you who Charlie was with at the Watson Creek Hotel last night?” Margarete asked.
Michelle’s brow creased. “How did you know that?”
“Yes, Margarete,” Logan said. His smug expression gnawed at Margarete’s morals. “Do tell us all how you know Charlie was at the Watson Creek Hotel last night.”
“Well.” Margarete paused, the imaginary length of her nose growing as she spoke. “I was visiting a possible new client over that way. I happened to be driving by on my way home, and saw Charlie standing at the door. It was obvious he was with a woman.”
Change the subject. She continued. “So, you were with Charlie at the time of Pierre’s murder?”
Michelle nodded and re-joined them at the table. “Yes, we were outside. We only came in when the speeches started. No-one saw us. Charlie was protecting me.”
A bitter-sweet resolve. “Well, I guess that knocks Charlie off the suspect list. Let me be the second to congratulate you. In my opinion, if people in this town are not happy for you and Charlie, then they’re not worth knowing.”
“Thank you. Now, if you don’t eat those cupcakes in the next the minutes, I swear I will devour them in record time.”
Joyous laughter erupted from the table as hands shot toward the luxuriously self-indulgent treats.
****
Margaret groaned as her stomach suffered self-inflicted agony. She hobbled from the car to the doctor’s surgery, one arm grabbing her stomach and the other holding on tight to her knight in shining armour. “I swear, if I ever eat four icing-laden cupcakes like that again, shoot me, will you?”
Logan’s hearty laugh broke through her dreary stupor and lifting her spirits. “Hey, I know never to come between a woman and her sugary treats. I do want to live you know.”
The flirty banter between them continued, only to be abruptly stopped by a flounce of blue and yellow barrelling toward them at a manic pace.
“Watch out,” Logan yelled as he encased Margarete in his arms and pivoted her out of the line of the oncoming catastrophe. “Hey, look where you’re going. There’s an injured woman here.”
Mary-Jane spun and her arms flew into the air in fright. Her copious shopping bags hooked over her arms almost took out both Margarete and Logan in one swoop. “Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. I didn’t see you. My mind was totally somewhere else. It wasn’t deliberate, I can assure you.”
Margarete looked into the panicked eyes of Mary-Jane and her insides crumpled. “It’s okay, Mary-Jane. All good.”
Mary-Jane’s gaze dropped to Margarete’s strapped ankle. “Oh no, you’re hurt. What happened? Why don’t you come in and see Terry at the chemist? I’m sure he will be able to look at that for you.”
Margarete opened her mouth to speak, but the words spoken were male. “That’s exactly what we were doing. We’re heading to the doctor.”
“Don’t mind me, I was on my way out to Mrs Stevenson’s place with her prescriptions, but then I saw the most gorgeous top on display in the window of Fabulous Creations. I just had to drop in and get it. It’s the last addition to my outfit for Noel’s work party tomorrow evening.” Her lips kept moving while she dug around in one of the large gift bags and held against her chest a pink-and-blue-striped, hibiscus-flower-covered top. “After all, it’s his big night and I must look my best. What do you think?”
A burning sensation bled up Margarete’s calf, an indication she’d been standing on her supporting leg far too long. She wanted to say, it looked like a colourful liquorice all-sorts lolly, but thought better of it. “Wonderful, Mary-Jane. I’m sure you and Noel will be the best dressed couple there. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my foot is killing me. I’d really like to head to the doctor.”
Mary-Jane jumped out of the way, clearing the path to the medical centre. “Of course don’t let me stand in your way.”
Margarete resumed her painful trek to the doctor all the time Mary-Jane’s voice on permanent drone behind her. “Okay, you be careful now, dear. And watch out for the uneven paving. Will I see you at Edith McCorrson’s high tea later on this afternoon?”
Margarete cringed at the thought of spending the afternoon with the overzealous woman, but she had told Edith she would be there. “Of course. I’ll see you then. Bye.”
“Bye.”
It took some time to get in to see Miles. By the time Margarete was finished, she was well and truly ready for a strong coffee. Thankfully, he diagnosed a mild sprain in need of rest.
“You were very lucky it wasn’t worse. I want you to stay off that foot for at least three to four days,” Miles said as he handed her a walking cane from the back of his office door. “Here, this may come in handy. I’d suggest crutches, but if I know you, you wouldn’t use them anyway.”
He knew her too well. How was she supposed to run a café with crutches, let alone find a murderer? “Thank you, Miles. I will look after it the best I can, and I promise to get some rest.” As long as it doesn’t stop me from catching a murderer.
Margarete breathed a sigh of relief as she navigated walking with the cane. It was a hundred times better than hopping around on one foot. A pang of disappointment gripped her chest. The thought of Logan’s arms no longer holding her tight gutted her.
She rounded the corner into the reception area and Logan’s worried gaze found hers. She paused and he was by her side within seconds. Her heart melted. He was one of the most caring men she’d ever met. Margarete could imagine how popular he must be with the youths back in Sydney. Her thoughts were a stabbing reminder of the reality coming all too fast. Would her heart be able to handle it when he left?
“How did it go?” he asked, his voice coated with concern.
She smiled. “Just a bad sprain, but I should be good in a few days.” Her gaze flitted past Logan’s shoulder to the elderly woman standing at the reception desk.
Mrs Stevenson? What are you doing here?
She leant into Logan and pointed to the woman. She whispered, ignoring the taunting musty scent of his aftershave. “That’s Mavis Stevenson.”
Logan’s gaze followed hers. “So?”
“So?” Her eyebrows raised and she looked at him as if she had been speaking gibberish. “So, what is she doing here, if Mary-Jane was on the way out to see her with her prescrip
tions?”
Logan’s mouth rounded in an O. “Good point.”
Gossip wasn’t usually on Margarete’s agenda, but today, curiosity got the better of her. Side-stepping past Logan, she headed for the reception desk. “Mrs Stevenson,” she said, giving the woman a welcoming hug. “So great to see you. I didn’t expect to see you in town.”
“Good heavens. Why not?” She laughed and Margarete couldn’t help but admire the woman. “I know I’m ancient, but this old girl can still get around.”
“Why, you don’t look a day over fifty,” Logan said, giving the elderly woman a smile that she’d remember forever.
Mavis giggled and swatted him lovingly on the arm. “Oh, aren’t you the charmer? I can see why our Margarete is so taken with you.”
What? Margarete’s cheeks burned and her body flooded with heat.
“Don’t be shy, dear. I may be old but I’m not blind. I say go for it. Life’s too short to waste. Trust me,” she said as she grabbed a paper from the temp receptionist.
Could she not see Logan standing right next to her? Margarete chanced a quick glance in Logan’s direction. His eyes glittered and a cheeky smirk spread across his face.
Margarete did her best to ignore the growing heat rising from her chest. “So, what brings you into the doctor today? Are you sick?”
“Goodness, no. Fit as a fiddle. I just popped in to make another doctor’s appointment for George, pick up his prescriptions and grab a few supplies.”
“Really?” she said, her brows raised.
Mavis tutted. “I may be eighty-four, but I’m perfectly capable of running a few errands. I’m not over the hill yet, dear.”
“Eighty-four?” Logan asked, folding his arms across his chest. “You would have to be the youngest eighty-four-year-old I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”
Mavis’ cheeks turned a rosy red.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs Stevenson. I didn’t mean that you couldn’t come into town. I just thought it pointless, since Mary-Jane was on her way out to your house to deliver your prescriptions.” Logan’s face fell and their eyes met in secret agreement.
Why would Mary-Jane lie about visiting Mrs Stevenson?
“Oh, she is a darling. I told her the other day while I was in the chemist not to worry this week. I had to come into town today. I bet we’ll cross paths somewhere along the way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, George does like it when I’m home to prepare his lunch.”
“Of course.” Margarete learned in and Mavis gave her a hug.
Mavis beckoned Logan toward her. “And you too, young man. Don’t think I’m leaving without a hug from you.” Logan smiled and stepped into her welcoming arms.
Her departing words were enough to freeze Margarete to the spot.
“You two make a lovely couple.”
Chapter Thirteen
Logan shoved his hands in his pockets. Satisfaction bellowed up from the base of his stomach and lodged in his heart. He grinned as he walked beside Margarete. “She’s a lovely woman. I bet she knows everything that happens in this town.” Margarete’s gaze stayed locked on the path ahead. She was ignoring his comment.
Clearly, Mrs Stevenson’s parting comment was not up for discussion. As they reached the car, Margarete finally found her voice. She clicked her fingers and pointed at Logan as if a light bulb had just reenergized her thoughts. “Police station.”
His brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”
“We need to go to the police station,” she said as she opened the passenger door.
“You need to go home and rest,” he said over the roof of the car before joining her inside. “The doctor said rest, so rest it is.”
She frantically shook her head. “No.”
Logan couldn’t believe his ears. “What do you mean no?”
“No.” She repeated firmly. “We need to go to the police station before we do any resting. Surely Kayne will know something by now and I kind of want to know if he was able to follow up on Ryder Stone.”
Logan’s gut twisted in knots just thinking of Margarete on the trail of a possible murderer. He bit the inside of his cheek, fighting against the urge to give her one more strong talking to about her adventures last night.
The silence between them stretched and it wasn’t until Margarete cleared her throat and spoke that he realised the mood had taken a sharp downturn.
Margarete shuffled in the seat and slid her handbag strap over her shoulder. “I know you think I should head home and you’re probably right, but it’s my life in the balance here. There will be plenty of time to rest after I’ve proved my innocence. I’m happy to walk.”
Walk? Are you crazy, woman? She wouldn’t be able to walk five hundred meters, let alone the distance to the police station at the other end of town. Annoyance was slowly eating away at Logan’s calm demeanour. “Margarete, you are not walking across town with a sprained ankle. I’m happy to drive you. But if I do, do you promise to go home and rest after we get an update from Kayne?”
Margarete’s eyes glowed a hypnotising brown hue and Logan’s irritation melted away. She clapped her hands together at her heart. “I promise. Thank you.”
He smirked and shook his head. Margarete continued to amaze him. She was an enigma to him. One he was going to very much enjoy deciphering. “You really know how to turn on the charms, don’t you?”
An earnest expression washed over her face. “Logan, even though my career is headed down the gurgler, these past few days have only been bearable because you have been here. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”
Margarete’s words hit him where he breathed, and his pulse sped up. “Shall we?” he asked, turning the engine over in an attempt to cover his unease.
****
A flutter scurried up Margarete’s spine and she did her best to hide the shiver that engulfed her body. Her heart felt more alive during these past few days with Logan than it had in the last five years. “I hope Kayne has some answers he can share.”
“It would be nice to know that he has been actively doing his job over the last twenty-four hours.” Logan pulled into the disabled carpark at the front of the police station and cut the engine.
“Y-you can’t park here,” Margarete stuttered. “This is a disabled carpark. I’m not disabled, just injured.”
“I’m sure we can get away with it.” Logan leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I won’t tell, if you won’t.”
Logan’s sexy scent wafted through the air, playing havoc with Margarete’s senses. Her eyes fluttered while her mind tossed around images of her protector. Images that should never have been allowed to surface. She swallowed.
“Your car, your fine,” she said and quickly exited the car.
Get it together, woman. Murderer first, or have you forgotten how you will spend your next birthday if you don’t sharpen up? Distractions can wait. Even gorgeous, sexy ones.
Margarete hobbled through the entrance of the police station, with Logan close behind. As she entered, her gaze locked onto Alison, who was perched high in her chair behind the reception desk. “Good morning, Alison. Is there any chance we could speak to Senior Constable Pendleton, please?”
“Mmmmm,” Alison said, her lips thinning as she eyed Logan up and down. “The senior constable is rather busy at the moment and I know he doesn’t want to be interrupted. Can I take a message?”
“It’s pretty important that we speak with him,” Margarete said, refusing to let Alison brush her off. “Tell him we have some important information, pertinent to the Pierre Bellamy case.”
Alison swivelled in her chair, but before she could make the call, Kayne magically appeared to the left of them. He was on an obvious trajectory that would have him colliding with them, if he didn’t look up from the papers in his hands.
“Margarete. Logan,” he said, stopping short of barrelling them over like a bowling ball. His eyes cast downward toward the walking cane. “What are you doing here, and what have you done?”
“We have had a few new developments,” he said, bypassing them and heading towards the opposite side of the foyer.
“So, what are they?” she asked, curiosity eating away as her insides.
He stopped and turned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not at liberty to say, but we are following up on a few leads.”
Not at liberty to say. Margarete sucked in a deep breath and crossed her arms. “So when are you at liberty to say, Senior Constable Pendleton? When I’m sitting in the witness box, looking at life in prison for a murder I didn’t commit?”
“I don’t think that’s what he meant,” Logan said, easing his hand over hers. “I’m sure Kayne is doing everything possible to find the truth.”
Mixed emotions screwed with her head. On one hand, she knew her behaviour was out of line, but on the other hand, the uncertainty of her current situation was making her batty. Logan’s soft hand squeezed hers and a splash of ease washed over her. What was it about this man that calmed her?
“I’m sorry, Kayne. That was rude of me. I’m just so frustrated. I know someone is trying to pin this murder on me.” She paused and stuck her injured foot out. “I’m not much use for anything.” Her eyes glistened with tears and she struggled to hold them back.
Kayne looked at her foot, then back again. This time there was a glint of understanding in his eyes that gave her hope. “Actually, there may be something you both can help me with. Do you have anywhere to be in a hurry?”
Margarete shook her head, but it was Logan who piped up. “As long as it involves a chair for Margarete to sit on and rest, we have all the time in the world.”
“Great. Follow me,” Kayne said, leading them down to the computer room. “We’ve been going through the footage from the anniversary party at the country club and there is one section that has us stumped.”
