Back in the Mustang, Shannon drove down the road and parked. “What are we doing?” I asked.
“Just want to see what Mr. Taylor does now.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“I never believe anyone. Not fully.”
He’d better not be talking about me. “If he’s telling the truth, Cheyenne might be the last person to have seen Rosemary alive.”
“How inconvenient that Cheyenne is dead.”
I snorted. “Makes for a stronger argument that the cases are connected.”
“We’ve known that was likely all along. But connected doesn’t mean the same perp.”
“No.” I sighed. “Did the crime people find anything on Cheyenne’s body? Something I might be able to get an imprint from?”
“They should be finished processing everything in the morning or after lunch at the latest, but it was pretty much just what you saw on Saturday.”
“Well, she was wearing some jewelry I could read, and a costume. A lot of the costumes at the theater have some kind of an imprint. They aren’t like regular clothes, but even those hold an imprint if the experience is potent enough.”
Shannon scowled, and I felt my stomach clench, not at his expression but at what I’d said. We both knew dying created very strong imprints. “I was hoping you wouldn’t have to do that.”
I shrugged. “So was I.”
Minutes ticked by as we sat in silence. I looked over to find him watching me with those eyes that stole my breath. All at once my exhaustion vanished, and my nerves hummed with anticipation.
“Autumn,” he said, his voice sounding gruff and unused, though we’d just been talking. “At the theater when we were alone in the kitchen . . .”
The moment I’d been waiting for. Maybe. “Yeah?”
Another ten painful seconds passed before he reached for me and I for him. My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it. He didn’t. “Are you always hungry?”
“Pretty much.” I grinned, my eyes going to his lips. It was time.
A revving engine broke our concentration. Shannon glanced toward the cabin. “Looks like he’s leaving.”
“Means he’s telling the truth then. At least about Rosemary.”
“Maybe.” Shannon sighed and started his engine. “We should follow to make sure.”
“I thought you weren’t on duty.”
He gave me a faint smile. “You’ll never forgive me if we don’t do everything we can to find her. Or yourself.”
He was probably right. I still had nightmares over our first case together and the little girl we’d found too late.
As we followed Taylor, my heartbeat eventually returned to normal, and the exhaustion crept in again. I fell into a doze and wasn’t aware of anything until we pulled in front of my long-closed shop where I’d left my car.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Shannon said.
“Taylor?”
“He went straight home. Which is what you should do.”
I was awake enough to feel disappointment and exhausted enough that it must have shown in my face. He reached over and touched my chin, turning me to face him. “Unfortunately, we’re not alone.” His eyes went to the Herb Shoppe where the lights were still on. Through the glass front, I could see Jake walking to the door. That was enough to bring me back to my senses. I couldn’t hurt Jake, not here, not like this.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll come to the station.”
“I’ll check on the vic’s clothes. What time would be good?”
“I’m not sure. Can I let you know? Maybe early afternoon. Tawnia and I have an appointment.”
He lifted a questioning brow.
“With our biological grandmother,” I conceded. “But Rosemary’s disappearance is more important, so let me know if they clear things early.”
“Okay.”
I slid from the car and into the rain. Wearily, I tugged on my hood, already missing the fluffy snowflakes at the cabin.
Shannon dipped his head toward me before driving away.
Jake emerged from his shop, locking the door behind him. “I thought that was you. I was just going to call. See if you were up for something tonight.”
“What are you doing here so late?” Not waiting for me, I hoped. Knowing him as well as I did, I bet he wanted to ask about Shannon but wouldn’t because he’d promised to be patient.
“Inventory. I had nothing else to do, and it’s overdue. Guess what? We got a little busy this afternoon, so I called Thera in, and she had a successful hour or two in your shop.”
“Good.” For sure I’d have to go on another antiques hunting excursion this weekend. I’d missed last week.
“Have you been reading imprints?”
“Yeah. They weren’t bad, but there were a lot. It’s been a long day.” I briefly ran down what I’d been doing, including the glass burglar, Tawnia’s new role in the play, and what had happened at the cabin. I left out Mr. Taylor’s gun because Jake was in the same club as Shannon, wanting to protect me. Besides, I hadn’t added even one more bruise to my collection tonight. I felt more guilty leaving out what had almost happened between Shannon and me. It was crazy. I’d grown to trust Shannon and at some level to want to be with him, but when I was with Jake, our long friendship was everything. No wonder Shannon was frustrated with me.
Not that he’d pushed.
Maybe I wanted him to. I’d meant what I said when I needed to experience firsthand the options. I wasn’t the kind to live on dreams. Actions were what I believed in.
“Well, everything’s locked up now,” Jake said. “Would you rather me drive you home? Wouldn’t want you falling asleep at the wheel.”
“No, I’m fine.” Actually, I was starving since I’d missed dinner, but if I mentioned that he’d feel obligated to feed me. “Thanks for taking care of everything. I owe you.” I hugged him.
“How about dinner tomorrow?”
“Can we play it by ear? I may have to be at the theater with Tawnia. No way am I leaving her there alone. Something’s not right at that place.”
His brow scrunched, and I could tell he was considering my being at the theater at all. I wasn’t waiting around for his objections. I put a jaunty note in my voice. “See you tomorrow, Jake.”
I hurried to my car, feeling his eyes on me. Part of me wanted to turn back and ask him to come home with me so we could make dinner together as we had so many times before. I wouldn’t mind the company, but having him there might make my choices more difficult, especially as tired and vulnerable as I was feeling after my almost encounter with Shannon. No, being alone with him now was definitely not a good idea.
I was halfway home when my cell phone rang. I checked the caller ID before putting in my earphone and answering. “Hello?”
“Autumn, thank heaven you picked up.” Tawnia sounded frantic, which was so far from her norm that I was instantly alert.
“What’s wrong? Is it Destiny?”
“Someone just called my cell. It was a threat! They told me I had to quit the play or else.”
“Or else what?”
“Just ‘or else.’ What more needs to be said? Good grief, Autumn, this is your forte, not mine. I’m scared! There’s no name or anything on the caller ID. Just a number.”
“I’ll be right there,” I said. “Keep the doors locked.”
Chapter 15
The smell of burnt pancakes wakened me from a sound sleep in the spare room on the main floor at Tawnia’s where Tawnia, Destiny, and I had all spent the night together.
Of course I’d ended up staying with Tawnia. She’d been too unsettled after the threat to stay alone. Since the only people she’d recently given her contact information was to Walsh’s acting company, I suspected one
of the disgruntled actors was playing a prank.
Not a very funny one, in light of the murder.
Of course it could be the actual murderer, but since phone calls were traceable in large part, wouldn’t that be stupid?
I wasn’t the morning person Tawnia was, though I always opened the shop by nine, but I should have risen earlier to save the pancakes. My sister was perfect in everything except cooking and sewing and growing things. She simply didn’t have the patience or the talent, which was odd, considering that she could struggle over a drawing or a painting for hours and that the inside of her cupboards resembled something from a magazine. She was the quintessential organized person. I both admired her and despaired because of it.
Yawning, I stumbled into the kitchen, wearing some of my sister’s pajamas. I always kept a change of clothes here and various odds and ends like a toothbrush, but anything I didn’t have, Tawnia would pull out of a drawer somewhere. I didn’t understand the purpose of using pajamas when underclothes did the job, but Tawnia swore by them, so when I stayed with her, I acquiesced to her pleas.
I picked up the spatula, barely in time to rescue the batch of pancakes from the griddle. My sister had obviously gone to some trouble with the pancakes, since they were homemade from whole wheat flour instead of her usual mix. From someone who adored white bread, I recognized this as the sacrifice it was.
“Any more calls?” I asked. Tawnia glanced up briefly as I took over. She was drawing on a large pad at the table while Destiny lay on a blanket on the floor, surrounded by a mass of toys she appeared to have no interest in, her fingers being adequate entertainment.
“No.” She shivered. “The one was enough.”
“It had to be one of the actors.” First in my mind was Vera, the brunette who’d worn the red wig. She’d supposedly fainted when I’d found Cheyenne’s body, but the fit she’d thrown when she hadn’t been given the Juliet role yesterday remained with me. “I wish you hadn’t given them your info.”
“I had to. They needed to let me know when we’re doing rehearsals. They’re practicing two different plays and have one more week of performing The Comedy of Errors, so they’ll be moving rehearsals around until they find a good fit.”
I tasted the pancake batter and hid a grimace as I rummaged through her cupboard for the spices I’d given her. A little organic sunflower oil would also go a long way toward making these palatable. “I really don’t think you should do the play,” I said as I poured the doctored mixture onto the griddle.
Tawnia’s jaw tightened. “I’m not going to let some joker run me out. I’m sticking to it until we find that poor boy’s sister. That is, as long as you’ll watch the baby while I go.” She sighed. “I forgot to ask last night. What did Shannon and Tracy say about the father connection?”
“They added it to their list of things to check as they go through the actors’ backgrounds, but it could take a while. I haven’t heard anything. At least Bret will be home tonight.” I was counting on him to talk sense into his wife about the play.
Her face became glum. “Actually, he called, and he has to stay until Thursday. I’m sure he won’t stay longer than he has to, though. He likes to be here to oversee every bit of the rebuilding.”
Rebuilding the Hawthorne Bridge, she meant, but I wasn’t buying it. “He won’t stay any longer because he can’t bear to be away from you any more than you like to be away from him. It’s not because of the bridge.”
“Maybe.” A secret little smile played on her lips. I knew the love Tawnia felt for Bret, but was it similar to my feelings for Jake? Once I had thought so, but there is no way she’d ever consider kissing another man, so now I knew the answer was no, and if the answer was no, then pursuing my feeling for Shannon was the logical thing to do.
I still hated the idea of hurting Jake, of letting him go. He was a good man, and he’d been the best of friends. I wouldn’t have made it through Winter’s death without him.
“Did you tell Bret everything?” I asked.
Tawnia put down her pencil. “I told him about Laina coming today and about the play, but not about the murder or the threat, if that’s what you’re referring to.” The sharpness in her voice said she knew that was exactly what I meant. “He’d have me layered in bubble wrap and sent home to my parents to protect me. When he gets home, I’ll explain everything. It’ll probably all be over by then, anyway.”
I took off the pancakes and poured more batter on the griddle. “So what are you drawing?” I was hoping it was something that would help us solve the case.
“I’m just fiddling.”
I crossed to the table and looked at the pencil drawing. A grizzled man sat on the front porch of a wide, squat house that had seen better days. The surrounding trees made the place seem isolated, but the paper was big enough that I could clearly make out his features. “You don’t think this has anything to do with Rosemary or the murder, do you?” I asked.
Tawnia laughed. “No, I don’t. No girl on the floor, no sign of anything weird. Just an old man sitting on his porch.”
“Looks cold. He’s wearing a lot of layers. You sure your advertising firm doesn’t have a client who sells cold-weather clothes?”
“Not that I know of.” She sighed. “Though they might actually have a new account I haven’t heard about yet. I’m out of things since I started to work from home. I wish the new creative director hadn’t canceled the meeting yesterday.”
She complained, but at the same time, I knew she wouldn’t give up being home with Destiny for anything. I bent to get a closer look at the drawing. “He looks a little familiar.”
“Probably based on someone I’ve seen around. It’s hard to create a completely new character. My drawings are usually composites of many people.”
I retrieved the newest batch of pancakes and poured the rest of the batter before bringing the plate to the table. There were enough good ones to give even us a hearty meal. Tawnia arose and took organic raspberry jam from the fridge for me and heated maple syrup for herself.
“I hope Laina comes early,” I said between ravenous bites. Tawnia had fed me leftover pork roast last night, but I felt starved. Too many imprints in one day. “I mean, if we have to go over to the theater for rehearsal.”
“You could stay at the shop with the baby.”
“No. I’ll go. I already called Thera. She’s coming in at ten. Even if we’re slow, we did enough business yesterday that I won’t go broke.”
She sighed. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll watch the store on Friday morning while you go antiques hunting, okay? Provided I don’t have a meeting at work I have to go in for. Right now it’s rescheduled for tomorrow morning.”
We hurried through the rest of breakfast and were nearly ready for the day when Tawnia’s cell phone rang. She froze and looked at me before checking the ID. “Not the same number as last night.”
I’d called the number when I arrived, but it only rang and rang. I suspected a phone booth, and I’d texted the number to Tracy, who said she’d have it traced. Yes, I’d contacted Tracy, not Shannon. I was half afraid he’d come barging over and half afraid he wouldn’t. “Well, answer it.”
“Hello?” Tawnia said. “Oh, I see. Okay. That’s fine. Thanks for calling.”
“Well?”
“It was Paxton Seaver. He says they’re canceling the Juliet rehearsal today, and he’ll let me know what time tomorrow or Thursday. He wasn’t sure which.”
“That’s odd after how anxious they’ve been to get going on it. I bet that producer Walsh is busting a vein or two with anxiety. I wonder what happened.”
Tawnia grinned. “Well, at least you don’t have to worry about me today. Or about watching Emma.”
“Maybe a day or two with no rehearsals will calm down whoever made that call.” Or give me enough time to track them do
wn. This was my sister they’d threatened.
Tawnia glanced at her phone. “We’d better get going if you’re going to open your shop on time.”
At nine sharp we were at Autumn’s Antiques with the door open and ready for business. Jake came in, looking stunning in a black-and-white shirt and white pants. He knew how to brighten up the coldest mornings. “Hey, no rain today. Might even see a bit of sun.”
Tawnia laughed. “You’re a bit of sun in those pants. Goodness, Jake, don’t you know it isn’t kosher to wear white in the winter?”
“Kosher? I hate to tell you this, but I’m not Jewish. I don’t eat kosher foods, either.” He reached out to Destiny, and the baby promptly latched onto his finger. She loved playing with him as long as he didn’t try to hold her.
“You know what I mean.” Tawnia pulled Destiny away from Jake’s finger and went around the counter to sit on a stool. I glanced toward the door.
“Waiting for someone?” Jake’s voice was matter-of-fact, but I suspected he thought we were waiting for Shannon.
“Our biological grandmother,” I said. “But we’re not sure what time she’s coming.”
Jake smiled, his teeth very white in his dark face. “Wow. Big day. Let me know if you need to leave. I’ll keep an eye on the store.”
“Thanks. Thera will be in soon, too.”
Laina Walkling showed up twenty minutes later. There was nothing to separate her from any other customer who might walk in the door except a slight tugging in my chest that I recognized as connection. I cut off my conversation with Tawnia in mid-sentence.
Still on her stool, Tawnia froze. “What is it?” she asked in an undertone.
“I think it’s her.”
We waited, watching the woman approach. Her hair was dark brown like ours—probably dyed, given her age—and cut becomingly at her chin. She was built like us, too, average height and slender. Not quite as wiry as I was now, but a bit more rounded like Tawnia. Her eyes were both blue, and under her coat she wore a lavender suit that reminded me of what Tawnia had liked to wear when she worked full time. The type, but not the color. The light purple fit the woman’s age well, which Mariel in Hayesville had said was around sixty-five.
Final Call Page 19
