by Meg Muldoon
Daniel also called deputies Owen McHale and Billy Jasper, and got them to sit outside the house in shifts. He even got George Hardin, the Rodeo fairgrounds crowd control monitor and school resource officer, to pitch in on the watch so that the deputies could do their real job.
It took a weight off of my mind knowing that the house was being watched. A huge weight. Daniel could heal up in peace, and I could help him recover without my heart running away every time the doorbell rang. It was actually good for Warren, too. He liked walking on over to the cop car and chewing the fat with whoever was on duty, regaling them with stories about the beer in Scotland.
One morning, a couple of days after Daniel had stepped up security around the house, I got a call from Erik. Daniel was still sleeping. He’d had a restless time the night before and was catching up on some Z’s.
Maybe Erik finally had some news.
But my hopes were dashed shortly after answering the phone.
“I don’t have anything new on Tex,” he said, bluntly. “I don’t have anything promising, period. But I did find something in the Sheriff’s log that piqued my interest.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, earlier that week, before the accident, Daniel visited the Pugmire house twice on a possible animal abuse call. Then he stopped at the McSween house the day after for questioning, it said in the logs, related to the Pugmire animal abuse call. Now I find that kind of interesting, don’t you?”
I furrowed my brow.
It didn’t necessarily surprise me, Daniel going out to those houses. Even though he was Sheriff, the Pohly County Sheriff’s Office was a small operation. Daniel often had to do the duties of a deputy, especially when they were shorthanded.
It did surprise me slightly that Laurel hadn’t mentioned anything about it.
“I don’t see what that has to do with the accident,” I said. “Daniel was just doing his job.”
“Maybe,” Erik said. “But then again, maybe it’s worth keeping an open mind about what really happened that night. We’ve got nothing on Tex Stevens. Don’t you think anything that happened in the week leading up to the accident might be worth following up on?”
“Maybe, but I can’t imagine what that incident could possibly do with—”
Suddenly, I remembered what Tiana had said earlier that week. About how Jo Pugmire had stopped by, not too long after the accident, looking for me.
I didn’t think too much of it at the time. But now, given this new information… maybe it was worth following up with.
“You see, I tried talking to Jo and Harry Pugmire, but neither of them wanted to hear from me because of the article I wrote,” Erik said. “But, uh, I’m sure Jo wouldn’t turn you away, Cinnamon.”
I thought about it for a minute. I went over to the window and looked at the cop car sitting in our driveway. Billy was sitting there, reading a book. I was glad it was him and not George.
I bit my lip.
Then I started writing Daniel and Warren a note.
“Where does Jo live?” I asked.
Chapter 55
I pulled up into the driveway of the Pugmire house, my palms sweaty as they gripped the wheel.
I could have just called her and asked. But some things are better to do in person.
My mind was running through the nasty things she’d said to me after the article had come out.
Come next sheriff’s election, your husband might find he has fewer friends in city government than he used to.
I let out an apprehensive breath.
I hadn’t the slightest clue what Jo had wanted to talk to me about. For all I knew, she had just stopped by to offer her support. Or, more likely, to yell at me some more about setting her up.
This was probably just a dead end.
But Erik was right. Even if it led nowhere, it was important to look into every possible lead. Plus, it gave me something to do to bide the time while Daniel recovered. Something other than think about Tex.
I got out of the car and walked up the driveway, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, though I didn’t know why.
The Pugmire house wasn’t at all what I expected it to be. For some reason, after seeing Laurel’s house, I expected all of the city councilors to live in such opulence. But the Pugmire house was just about the opposite in every way from the McSween Ranch. Almost as opposite as Jo and Laurel were. It was a small, old country house on a few acres of grassland that bordered the woods. There was a barn, but it looked to be run-down and in bad need of a paint job. The house itself also looked like it hadn’t seen a paint roller in years, and long strips of color had peeled off, revealing a faded white base coat.
A thick layer of pine needles covered the roof, and the wooden beams of the porch seemed as though they were splitting and had termite damage.
It was the kind of house that the kids in the neighborhood probably whispered about, especially around this time of year. I could easily picture a couple of ghosts rattling around in a place like this.
I walked up to the door, digging my hands deep into my pockets. I rang the bell, but heard nothing on the inside. I tried it again, but the doorbell seemed to be busted. I started knocking.
A few minutes later, I heard heavy footsteps coming from inside the house.
The door opened.
Jo stood on the other side. She scrunched her face up in surprise.
I was fairly certain I’d never seen Jo Pugmire surprised before.
“Oh,” she said. “What are you doin’ here?”
Jo was dressed in another one of her trademark animal print shirts that was borderline-Mumu. It seemed to be some sort of peacock print, with faded glitter markings here and there that dimly reflected the light. The large print had a way of highlighting Jo’s plump curves that somehow made her seem twice as large as she actually was.
You could always count on Jo for an animal print, some big hair, and bright red nails.
I cleared my throat.
“I heard you came by the shop looking for me the other day,” I said. “I just wondered what it was about.”
She looked past my shoulder for a moment, and then back at me.
“That was… well, it’s nothing that can’t wait until your husband gets better. I heard what happened.”
She shifted her weight nervously from one foot to another. A dribble of sweat ran down the side of her face. She tried to catch it before I noticed, but it was too late.
It was hot, no doubt. The talons of summer were still holding strong.
But I could tell that me being here was making her very uncomfortable.
Was she just feeling guilty over the curt way she’d treated me? Or was there more to it?
I hadn’t ever seen this woman act anything short of self-confident.
I took a deep breath and decided to tell Jo just what I had on my mind in blunt terms.
“I’m not here to chit chat, Jo. I don’t much care for your conversation. But I came all the way here because I’ve got a feeling that…”
That surprised expression crossed her face again. I guess she hadn’t expected little old Cinnamon Peters to be so forceful and honest.
“Daniel visited your house twice the week before the accident on an animal abuse report. He also visited Laurel McSween’s house. I want to know what happened. And I want to know why you came by the shop looking for me after the accident.”
She clasped her hands together awkwardly.
“And I want to know why you’re so Goddamn nervous right now.”
She let out a short, breathy sigh, and then looked behind me again.
Then she met my eyes.
“Come on in,” she said, holding the door open.
Chapter 56
Jo Pugmire poured me a cup of Folgers coffee in a chipped mug while I stared at the photos of her family up on the fridge.
Jo had two sons. One looked to be about middle school age. The other one looked almost full-grown. Ruddy, good-looking
, and tan, he wore a cowboy hat and stood next to a horse in what looked like the most recent photo.
I wondered if this was the boy that Laurel had been talking about. The one that broke Ashley’s heart earlier in the summer.
“That’s my son Michael,” Jo said when she saw me looking. “And that’s his horse, Jim Beam. See, Michael’s been aiming to become a rodeo cowboy for some time. Jim Beam’s his prized possession.”
She sighed.
“I mean, he was.”
She handed me the mug and then sat down at the kitchen table. I took a seat across from her. She blew on the steam curling up from the coffee and stared out the window at the overgrown pasture choked with weeds.
“You did me the courtesy of getting to the point,” she said. “And now I’ll do the same for you.”
She pushed aside her mug of coffee and leaned forward.
“Truth is, I came by your pie shop the other day because I was too chicken to come by the hospital,” she said. “‘Course I knew you wouldn’t be at the shop the day after your husband got trampled by a horse.”
She shook her head.
“I try to put on a brave face for folks in this town,” she said. “But I’ll admit – I’m as scared and cowardly as the rest of them.”
“What did you want to tell me?” I asked.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the pasture out the window. Then she shifted them in my direction suddenly.
“Well, Cinnamon,” she said. “You said earlier that you had a feeling. Well, I’ve got a feeling too. About your husband’s accident. A real ugly one.”
The mug I was holding almost slipped out of my hand. My wrist went limp and I lowered it with a thud onto the table. I stared at her.
“But you see, I’m afraid if I’m wrong,” she said. “That I’m just pointing fingers that I have no business pointing.
But you know what scares me more?”
“What’s that?” I whispered.
“If I’m right,” she said. “Now that thought… that thought right there is a terrifying prospect, Cinnamon. For all of us.”
Chapter 57
I got into the car and just sat there numbly for a few minutes.
It was as if I’d forgotten how to turn the ignition, how to get out of park, how to put it in reverse.
All I could think of was what Jo had just finished telling me.
An outlandish, fantastical story that had all the makings of a Lifetime movie plot.A story of scorn, violence, and madness.
How could any of it be true?
It was crazy. Absolutely crazy.
Jo had to be off her rocker. Completely off into the nether regions of space to concoct a story this outrageous.
Still, her words haunted me.
You know what scares me more? If I’m right.
It scared me too.
I drove back home, Jo’s words echoing in my head the entire way.
Chapter 58
It was evening when I pulled through the immaculate gates of the McSween estate.
I knew I shouldn’t have lied to Daniel, but I did anyway. I knew he wouldn’t like me going out to Laurel’s house.
But I felt an insane need to get to the bottom of this. And nothing was going to stop me.
I told Daniel that Tiana had gotten sick and that I was headed to the shop to do some prep work for the following day. He had tried to convince me to stay. But I was stubborn, and didn’t give in. I charged Warren with keeping him company. When I left, they were playing a round of blackjack. Warren was muttering things under his breath as he lost yet another round.
I made sure that Billy was still outside in the cop car. He nodded to me silently as I walked by. Then I pulled away, the nerves jumping around in my gut like dancing electrical wires.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the polished stone driveway of the McSween estate. It took me a few minutes to gather up enough courage to get out of the car. My heart was pounding hard and fast in my chest just like a runaway horse.
I got out, shut the door behind me, and stared up at the massive estate, glistening in the dimming colors of the evening.
I swallowed hard. My mouth was dry and felt as rough as sandpaper.
I walked up and with a shaky hand, I rang the doorbell. A few minutes later, Laurel answered, holding a glass of white wine in one hand.
She raised her eyebrows.
“Why, Cinnamon,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I know,” I said, forcing a phony smile. “And I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve been cooped up in my house for days, and I was just thinking, I could really use a girls’ night, you know? But if you’re busy, just say the word and I’ll—”
“No, no,” she said, grinning. “It’s actually perfect. Bernie’s staying late for a city council meeting and Ashley’s out too. I’m all by my lonesome here in the house. Again.”
She rolled her eyes.
“So you see, I’d love some company.”
“Great,” I said.
“Let me get you a glass of wine,” she said, letting me in. “I’m sure you need one after everything you’ve been through these past few weeks.”
She was right about that.
I did need one.
I needed to find the courage to do what I came here to do.
Chapter 59
We were out on the deck again, sitting in those same Pottery Barn chairs that we had been sitting in the first night she’d invited me over for drinks. The sunset was turning the sky brilliant shades of magenta.
But I couldn’t enjoy it. I was too busy wringing my hands, thinking about what I was about to do.
Starting to doubt myself.
Maybe I was off my rocker too. Maybe I was about to make a huge mistake.
Laurel sat across from me, drinking white wine and making small talk. I kept looking at her, wondering if Jo was right.
“Once, when me and Bernie were courtin,’ I tried making him a batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies in my dorm using a microwave oven,” she was saying. “I nearly broke the poor boy’s teeth. They came out as hard as—”
“Where’s Ashley tonight?” I said, suddenly.
She raised her eyebrows in surprise as I interrupted her.
“Oh, Ash? She’s in town at the movies with some friends,” she said. “You know, I can’t believe that in less than a week, she’ll be headed to Stanford. Time sure passes quickly, Cinnamon. It seems it was only yesterday when she was just a little girl. We used to make breakfast together in the kitchen, and she was so little, she’d have to stand up on one of those chairs to reach the counter. Now here she is, all grown up and headed to one of the best schools in the…”
I took in a deep breath, and decided to take a wild shot in the dark.
A shot that was going to burn any bridge I’d built, or planned to build, with Laurel and her family.
But that was a risk I was willing to take.
“I know what she did to Michael Pugmire’s horse, Laurel,” I said. “I know the whole story.”
She stopped talking, and looked as if she’d just been stabbed. Her face went pale.
I decided to let it all out while she was still too stunned to stop me.
“I know everything. About how Michael and Ashley started dating. And one day, he broke it off with her. And how that very next day, his horse, his prized stallion, ends up with a broken leg, just by standing there alone in the barn. How does that happen, Laurel?”
She started to say something, but I didn’t let her get far.
It was time to go all in.
“I know that the Pugmires called Daniel out when it happened. Michael Pugmire told him that he knew Ashley was the one who hurt the horse. Daniel was looking into it the week before his accident. He came out here and talked to you and Ashley about it. And she denied it. But Daniel knew something was off.
He told the Pugmires as much, and that he was going to get to the bottom of it. And that he’d see to it that justice wou
ld be served. Just as soon as the Rodeo was over.”
“Cinnamon,” Laurel said between gritted teeth, her pale face now turning bright red. “What are you saying, doll? Stop this. You don’t know what you’re talking ab—”
“You’re saying that she’s innocent? That she didn’t do it?”
Laurel slammed her glass down on the table and cleared her throat.
“You’ve been talking to Jo, haven’t you?” she said. “That wench.”
“This isn’t about Jo,” I said. “But as long as we’re going there, Jo seems to have a very different version about why your two families don’t get along. And it’s got nothing to do with Harry being in love with you once upon a time. She told me about that real estate deal all those years ago. How your husband screwed Harry out of all that money.”
“She’s a liar,” she said, her voice cracking. “And so are you, Cinnamon. You come here accusing my daughter and perpetuating these horrid lies. And after I’ve been so kind to you and your family?”
She shook her head angrily and stood up.
“Shame on you, Cinnamon.”
There was no turning back now, I realized.
“You’re a liar too, Laurel. You made me think you wanted to be my friend. When all you really wanted was to get on Daniel’s good side. You wanted to use me. As if being my friend would stop him from arresting Ashley for—”
“Fine,” she said, holding up her hands. “Fine. Maybe you’re right, Cinnamon. Maybe you’re right. But you can’t blame me for doing that. Ashley, she’s…”
Water started flooding her eyes. Perfectly-shaped tears popped out of them, flowing down her cheeks.
“Do you know how hard Ashley worked to get into Stanford?” she said. “Four years, this kid has been pouring her heart out. Staying up late every night, studying until two in the morning. Getting to school hours before everyone else. Joining every stupid club under the sun just so her application looked good. And then after all this, this little white trash Pugmire kid comes in and tries to ruin it all. I mean, he was terrible to her, Cinnamon. You should have seen what dating him did to her self-confidence. And she just took it, until finally he ended it. Just out of the blue, for no good reason.”
