In Cold Chamomile

by Joy Avon

  Oh yes—now Callie remembered. The woman was one half of the elderly couple who had offered some book from a relative’s inheritance to the book appraiser, and Mr. King had offered to buy it from them for twenty dollars. The woman hadn’t actually wanted to part with the tome, but her husband had said that then at least a part of the useless inheritance would have delivered some value—or something like that. Callie felt a bit sorry for the woman, who had apparently been forced into the decision and had regretted it right away.

  “I thought,” the woman said, “that my book was maybe still at Haywood Hall, and I could get it back. I brought the money.” She opened her right hand, showing a folded bill. “I just want it back.”

  The deputy still didn’t seem to follow. “You left a book at Haywood Hall yesterday?” he queried with a puzzled look.

  “No, the expert bought it from me. But I never meant to sell it.” The woman bit her lip, her expression crinkling as if she was about to cry. “I only want it back.”

  Judging by the deputy’s expression, he still didn’t fully understand, and Callie walked up to the two of them and said, “Excuse me for overhearing your conversation. Perhaps I can help?”

  The elderly lady nodded at her in grateful appreciation of the offer, and although the deputy seemed less pleased, Callie pushed on. “I organized the Valentine’s event at Haywood Hall, and the expert was there to put a price on books and buy them if the owners were willing to part with them. But I understand you’re not happy with having sold?”

  The woman shook her head violently. “I never was. Bill forced me into it. He never liked Mother, and he just wants to get rid of her things, not caring what they’re worth.”

  “I understand they may have emotional value to you,” Callie said.

  The deputy seemed relieved now that he didn’t have to deal with the upset woman, and he let her talk.

  “Real value as well,” the old lady said with a prim little nod. “That book is worth more than twenty dollars—I know it.”

  Callie decided to let this layman’s guess pass and asked, “Did they tell you at Haywood Hall that the book would be here?”

  “Yes. Mrs. Keats told me that all the things the expert had handled had been taken along by the police. Including my book.” She held out her hand again with the bill. “Here’s what he gave me. You can have the money and let me have the book back.”

  The deputy shook his head. “We can’t hand over something that’s part of an ongoing investigation.”

  “But it’s my book, and it had nothing to do with the murder.”

  The deputy said, “The book is staying right here.” He straightened up a bit, leaning his hands on the edge of the reception desk. “Besides, if you sold it to this expert, technically it’s his now and not yours anymore.”

  “But I want it back. He forced me into selling it. It’s worth much more, I know.”

  The deputy looked at Callie, raising a brow as if to ask what he should make of this. “I will take your name and contact information, ma’am, and then Deputy Falk will get back to you about it later.”

  The old lady protested that she just wanted her book back and didn’t see why he couldn’t give it to her right now, but as he insisted she should provide her information, she did give in with a sigh as he wrote it down on a sticky note. She showed him the money two more times, claiming he had to give the book back to her on the spot, but then, as he wished her good morning and turned his back on her, she seemed to understand she wasn’t getting anywhere and shuffled off, clutching the money in her fist.

  As soon as she was out the door, the deputy said to Callie, “She should understand that once she sold it, it became his. There’s nothing we can do about it. It’s not like he stole it from her.”

  “She made a decision under the pressure of the moment and her husband’s insistence. I don’t see why she couldn’t get her book back if she repays what he paid her.”

  “It just doesn’t work that way,” the deputy said, shaking his head as he put the sticky note on a desk in the back. “The dead man bought it from her fair and square. Just like an old lady to believe it was worth much more. It’s probably just a worn book with mold on it.”

  Callie wanted to reply, but a door closed and Iphy appeared, walking ahead of Falk. She held her head high, and Callie sensed there had been an altercation of some sort, as Ace’s expression was tight, his jaw clenching.

  Iphy passed her without saying anything and went outside. Callie wanted to follow her to ask what on earth had happened, but Ace pointed a finger at her and said, “Miss Aspen, in the office a moment, please.”

  It sounded so formal that Callie feared for a moment she’d be arrested herself. Her heart skipped a beat, and she stood rooted to the ground. But then she tried to laugh off her own fear and followed Ace, with Daisy hard on her heels.

  As soon as they were inside the office and Ace had closed the door, he turned to her and said, “What do you think you’re doing? Your great-aunt wouldn’t admit it right away, but the information she provided to me to clear Mr. Strong gave her away, and after I pointed that out to her, she couldn’t deny it. You went to the Cliff Hotel together last night and have talked to witnesses and suspects.”

  “We didn’t know then that Sean Strong was a suspect,” Callie protested, but Ace ignored her and continued, “You went behind my back, talking to people I hadn’t even had access to, like the victim’s personal assistant, Delacorte. I don’t understand.” He stood a moment, inhaling and clenching his fists, as if he was controlling himself with only the utmost effort. “This morning I come to town, and you invite me to have pancakes with you. I tell you I arrested someone and there Iphy is, running over first thing to tell me how wrong I am to have done this and saying I should have investigated the threats against King instead.”

  Callie bit her lip. She could understand that Ace hated her great-aunt judging his actions, especially the arrest, which he considered justified based on the evidence available at the moment.

  Ace continued, “I don’t want a civilian coming in here telling me how to run my investigation. Besides, Iphy knew Strong planned on leaving town first thing this morning, and she didn’t report to me last night to inform me of his intentions. He could have gotten away, leaving me empty-handed.”

  “His flight was booked in advance,” Callie added in her great-aunt’s defense. “He was only here for that one performance at the Valentine’s event.”

  “That performance, huh? That’s what Iphy tried to sell me too. That he wanted to perform here for old times’ sake. Well, I bet you he came especially to meet that expert and he killed him.”

  Callie wanted to protest, but Ace cut her off with a hand gesture. “It ends here, Callie. I realize now how wrong I’ve been to share things from the investigation with you. I shouldn’t have mentioned the arrest this morning. I was happy to see you and spoke to you when I shouldn’t have.”

  Callie’s throat tightened. They’d had breakfast together, felt at ease together, like a real couple, but now …

  Ace said, “I don’t want to say you used me to get the information, but you knew about Iphy’s meeting with this man last night, and you agreed with her to keep his imminent departure a secret from me.”

  “I did no such thing. Like I said, his return flight had been booked in advance, and we even told him he couldn’t leave town because he was also involved in the murder investigation. But he assured us that he had given an initial statement, and as he had nothing to do with the murder—”

  “That’s up to me to decide.” Ace was white with anger now. “I let it go before because you were helping friends or even my sister, but I can’t tolerate this anymore. You have to stop messing with my investigations.”

  “Messing? Like I ruined them or something? Two times I helped you catch a killer. I even risked my own safety for it. Doesn’t that count?”

  Ace said, “That’s just it. Citizens shouldn’t risk their safety—that’s for
the police to do. If something had happened …”

  He was silent a moment, his expression tensing as if he was considering the consequences of Callie getting injured—or worse—during a confrontation with a killer.

  Then he said, “This morning was the last time I will share something of an ongoing case with you. It was a grave mistake, and I regret it.”

  He hesitated as if he wanted to say more, then opened the door and said, “Goodbye.”

  Callie stared at him. Was he serious? He was just kicking her out? Out of the investigation, out of his police station?

  Out of his life as well?

  What did it mean?

  Confused, she stood a moment, trying to find something to say to soften him, then decided this was the wrong moment, as he was just too angry, and she herself was also far from calm. She passed him without saying anything and left the station.

  Outside, Iphy sat in the car, waiting for her. As Callie climbed in and strapped herself in, Iphy said, “Falk probably talked you into persuading me Sean could be guilty. But I don’t want to hear it. Sean may be an impulsive man, but he’s no killer.”

  Callie couldn’t believe her ears. Here was her great-aunt immediately assuming she would listen to Ace and start to persuade her of Sean Strong’s guilt, while moments ago Ace had accused her of siding with Iphy.

  Her hands were trembling, but she forced herself to try to speak calmly. “I’m not trying to talk you into anything. It’s none of my business. After all, you told me precious little. About the past or about what is happening now. And that’s fine. But I don’t want to be caught in the middle.”

  “Of course not. You don’t want a fight with Falk. But he’s doing the wrong thing, ignoring those threats and focusing on Sean only. He’s letting the real killer get away. That certainly wouldn’t be good for his career.”

  “Possibly, but Ace is no mood to listen to such reasoning now. He’s livid about what we did last night. He doesn’t seem to realize that I was against going to the Cliff Hotel in the first place.”

  Iphy sighed and knotted her fingers. “I meant to keep you out of it. Act like I had gone there alone. But when Falk started to cross-examine me—that’s what it was, a cross-examination, as if I was under suspicion of murder myself!” Iphy’s voice shook with suppressed indignation. “I slipped up and mentioned your name. Then he knew, of course.”

  Callie drew a deep breath. Iphy didn’t want to hear a defense of Ace right now, and frankly, Callie didn’t even know if she wanted to defend him. He had just blatantly accused her of conspiring with Iphy. And he had said he didn’t want to see her anymore. That was what he had said, right?

  More or less.

  How could he?

  After all they had been through together.

  But together didn’t mean anything to him. It was always about work. His work, his badge, his reputation. “Miss Aspen” he had even called her in front of the other deputy. He had always taken her to other towns on dates, as if to hide their relationship. Like it was a guilty secret, something to be ashamed of.

  Well, after today he wouldn’t need to be ashamed anymore.

  She clenched her hands and leaned back hard in the car seat. Like she needed him.

  Iphy said, in a forced tone as if she was controlling herself with difficulty, “I’m sorry for involving you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Looking at her great-aunt’s pale face and tight jaw, Callie wanted to reach out and ask her to tell her what exactly had happened in the past between her and Sean Strong, throwing her off balance now. But it seemed unlikely Iphy would want to confide in her at that moment. Better to let the emotions calm down a bit and talk then.

  Iphy drove back into town without speaking to her again. At Book Tea she vanished into the kitchen, where two of her helpers were already baking and asking her why she hadn’t been there. Iphy didn’t answer their questions, but simply took the pink fondant rolled out on the counter and started to decorate cupcakes, which were the weekly special.

  The helpers exchanged astounded looks but then turned to their own chores, one cutting a goose shape from gingerbread dough. Once baked, it would be decorated with white frosting and a blue jelly bean to represent the blue carbuncle found inside it in the famous Sherlock Holmes tale. The other helper was cutting out letters. The idea to form your own names or messages of love had been a great success at the event, and they had decided to make it a part of the tearoom’s offering as well.

  Callie watched the bustle a moment and decided she wasn’t needed there. She was just about to leave when someone asked where Peggy was, as it was her shift too.

  “I’ll go see where she is,” Callie offered at once, eager to get away from the charged atmosphere. She walked the stretch from the Book Tea to Peggy’s house, going so fast that Daisy could barely keep up with her. Anger surged in her veins, and she just wanted to kick something. How could Ace treat her like that? Of course he hadn’t been happy that Iphy showed up, pleading for Sean Strong, or that he had found out through his cross-examination, as Iphy had called it, that both Iphy and Callie had been to the Cliff Hotel last night to speak with Strong. As if they would give sensitive information to a potential killer.

  Callie sighed as her anger retreated to make way for regret and worry. She didn’t know if Sean Strong was a killer. She did know Iphy was sort of under his influence, and if he was somehow caught up in crime, that could be very dangerous. She should have told Ace about the bond between Iphy and Sean right away that morning, when he had revealed the arrest to her. She had, of course, mentioned that Iphy knew Sean from before, but Ace obviously had no idea this meant Iphy was willing to take risks for him. And Callie had wanted to explain a bit more, but there had been so little time.

  Callie halted and rubbed her forehead. She had handled part of it wrong, even without realizing that in the moment. To protect Iphy, she should have involved Ace from the beginning, instead of keeping him at arm’s length. Of course, Ace had been angry when Iphy had been forced to reveal everything, and not in a neutral way, but to defend someone Ace had just locked up. What a mess.

  And aside from them having had contact with Sean Strong last night, which she might have been able to explain as contact between old friends meeting up again, they had also talked to Seth Delacorte, the dead man’s assistant. There was no excuse for that. It had been wrong. Ace had let the guy go back to his hotel to sleep off his shock, and before he had managed to take a statement they had talked to him. What had they even been thinking? Helping Mrs. Forrester, sure, but …

  It was a poor excuse. Callie only had to put herself in Ace’s position to know she had been wrong and it must have been very irritating for him.

  No. Not just irritating. Even potentially disastrous for his career. People knew they were dating. Even with Ace’s precautions of not advertising their relationship, there were locals who knew. Or at least suspected and gossiped about it. If she then appeared in places talking to witnesses, as he had put it, it looked odd. It could get him in trouble.

  Why had she done it?

  She bit her lip. She should have apologized right away instead of acting like she still supported her decision to do it. Then Ace wouldn’t have been so mad and told her to leave.

  He’d told her to leave.

  It was all over.

  After all, could he turn her out of the station like that but still appreciate her company privately?

  Callie sighed, and Daisy pushed herself against her leg with a low whine. Callie lifted the Boston terrier in her arms and cuddled her. “I don’t know how I’m going to solve this, girl. But let’s find Peggy first.”

  At Peggy’s house she went around back and found Peggy in the kitchen, on the floor, surrounded by a ton of reusable food storage containers. There was a stack of lids lying to her left side, which she was trying to match to the bowls. Apparently, she had thrown herself into some early spring-cleaning.

  As Peggy noticed Callie at the back doo
r, she jumped to her feet and checked her watch. Her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry it got so late. I’ll get my things and come right with you.” She rushed off and reappeared soon after in her coat and carrying her bag.

  They locked up and left. Peggy didn’t say much as she walked beside Callie, her collar turned up against the breeze, which still had a winter’s bite.

  “You could have called,” she offered at last.

  “I wanted a walk.” Callie took a deep breath. “The murder is on my mind.”

  “I see.” Peggy seemed to perk up now that it was about something other than her complicated relationship with Quinn. “Can I help?”

  “I don’t think so. Ace really doesn’t like us snooping around.”

  “We don’t need to snoop around. Just listen well to all the gossip at Book Tea. Didn’t you tell me that before, after the murder this summer?” Peggy nodded with a satisfied smile. “I could use something to take my mind off things.” She rushed to add, “Have you heard any more about why someone would want the man dead?”

  “Just that he was rude to people, pushy, and self-centered. That usually means people hurt others and create enemies. But for someone to kill him, it must have been pretty bad.” Callie tried to adopt a light tone. “There were people, for instance, who didn’t like the price the appraiser had offered for their wares. But would they kill for that?”

  Peggy shrugged. “Maybe if they felt cheated in a big way.”

  “There was a lady this morning who wanted her book back.” Callie told it as if the incident had played out at Haywood Hall, not wanting to reveal to Peggy that she had been to the station that morning with Iphy. She figured it was better to keep her great-aunt’s former entanglement with the suspected baritone under wraps.

  Her head hurt thinking of all the things she had to keep a secret from this person and that. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

  Peggy said, “Well, you can decide to part with something and then regret it. I hope she can get her book back.”