by Jessica Beck
“No, I just want to get home and forget about the world tonight. Do you mind dropping me off at my Jeep?”
“Not a problem,” she said. As we drove, Grace asked, “So, what do you make of all we saw today?”
“It’s going to take some time to digest it all, but one thing’s certain.”
“What’s that?”
“Nobody recognized me,” I said, smiling. “I won our bet. I can’t wait to have lunch at Napoli’s.”
“You were right, so I’ll pay up. I can’t believe nobody knew who you were.”
“Like I said, it’s all about context,” I said.
We arrived at my Jeep back in April Springs, and I got out of Grace’s car. “Thanks for helping out this afternoon. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Are you kidding? I had a blast. Suzanne, I know you’re sick of the entire town worrying about you, but be careful, okay? I’ve got a feeling somebody we’ve talked to in the last few days is a murderer.”
I would have loved to be able to disagree, but I couldn’t. “I think you’re right. I just wish we knew which one.”
“That would make life easier, wouldn’t it?”
After she drove off, I noticed something tucked under my windshield wiper. It couldn’t be a parking ticket. I was in front of my own shop.
Instead of a ticket, I found a note.
“Sorry I missed you. I’ll catch up with you later. Jake.”
He wasn’t the only one who was sorry. Though we’d just had one date—and it had ended less than perfectly—I found myself becoming attached, something I hadn’t planned on, or been expecting.
I was still smiling when Max, my ex, walked up, with a dozen long-stemmed red roses in his hand.
And suddenly, the lightness of my good mood was gone.
“There’s my Suzie girl. These are for you.”
I made no move to take them. “You should have saved yourself the money,” I said. “I don’t want them.”
Max frowned gently. “Hey, I’m trying to apologize here. The least you could do is let me.” His words were a little slurred, not enough for most folks to be able to tell that he had been drinking, but I’d been around him a long time.
“How much have you had to drink?”
He held up his thumb and index finger about two inches apart. “A little, I admit it. So, how about it? You wanna go out with me tonight?”
“You must be out of your mind,” I said. “Right now I wouldn’t go out with you again on a bet, and that doesn’t even have anything to do with the fact that you wrecked my date last night.”
“Are you seriously telling me you’d rather date that cop than me? Suzanne, we had something special.”
“I thought so, too. I wonder what Darlene would say?”
“Would you drop that once and forever?” Without realizing he was doing it, Max swung the roses down, smacking them on the hood of the Jeep. Petals flew off onto the asphalt, and I took a step backward.
Keeping my voice calm, I said, “Your temper has gotten a lot worse since we split up, hasn’t it?”
“I’m going crazy trying to get you to forgive me,” he said. I could swear he looked like he wanted to cry.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” This was a scene I’d been dreading since we ended our marriage. Max almost never drank, because when he did, his emotions dictated his actions, and he hated losing control.
“I want you back in my life,” he said, after he’d managed to compose himself. “I’m not giving up.”
He started to try to hand me the flowers again, then noticed their beaten appearance. After flipping them into a trash can, Max walked away, and I finally started breathing again.
What was I going to do about him? I thought we’d worked out a way to be around each other without scenes like this, but evidently, I’d been wrong. At one time, he’d been the most important part of my life, and he’d thrown it away with one stupid, thoughtless indiscretion.
But it was all I could think about when I saw him, and I wondered if the image of him and Darlene together would ever go away.
Momma was waiting for me by the door.
“Don’t you look all grown-up,” she said.
“I just picked it up today. I got it at Gabby’s.”
She brushed a bit of lint off one shoulder. “It suits you. Did you have another date with Jake Bishop tonight?”
I looked down at my outfit. “Dressed like this? I don’t think so.”
“Then why were you wearing it?”
“I had an appointment I wanted to look nice for,” I admitted. “Momma, it’s been a long, hard day. Can we leave it at that?”
“Fine,” she said, surprising me with her instant capitulation. “I made some cheesy chicken for dinner.”
That was one of my favorites. “Did I do something special? It’s not even my birthday.”
Momma smiled. “I know you’ve been having a hard time lately, so I thought you could use a treat.”
I kissed her cheek.
She asked, “What was that for? I’ve fixed dinner for you before.”
“For understanding what I’m going through,” I said. “Do I have time to change?”
“Absolutely. You’ll have the suit dry-cleaned before you put it in your closet, won’t you?”
“First thing tomorrow morning,” I said.
I changed into some jeans and an old sweater, clothes I was much more comfortable in. Momma had the table set, and we enjoyed a quiet meal, filled with small talk and skirting my recent activities.
After we had some brownies she’d just made, it was time for her attack.
“Suzanne, we need to talk.”
“I’ve never liked that particular phrase,” I said. “I thought we had been.”
“This is serious. I’m not sure you realize how dangerous your behavior has been lately. You’re taking far too many chances.”
“Who have you been talking to? Not Grace, I know that much.”
“I have my sources,” she said. “Don’t try to deny that you are meddling in police affairs. Let the chief handle this. And if you don’t trust him, surely you must feel Jake is competent.”
“Momma. I can’t just leave this alone. If I don’t figure out who killed Patrick Blaine, I’m afraid nobody’s going to. He wasn’t some stranger; he was my friend.”
She reached for the telephone.
“Who are you calling?” I asked.
“I’m going to speak with the chief and see if he can come by here and talk some sense into you. Clearly, I can’t.”
I couldn’t believe I was hearing this from my own mother. I grabbed a heavy jacket by the door. “Call whoever you like, but don’t expect me to just sit here. I’m going out.”
“It’s dark,” she said. “Where exactly do you think you’re going?”
“I’m going to take a walk in the park. I need some fresh air.”
“There you go again, taking chances that aren’t necessary. I’m calling the chief this instant.”
I had to get out of there before we both said things we’d regret.
The park was my happy place, somewhere I could go to get away from the world. There was more to it than most folks saw. It had a distinct personality; it was a place with a soul. I found myself walking directly to my thinking tree, a gnarled old oak whose trunk was twisted into a saddle where I could sit comfortably off the cold ground.
As I stared into the night sky, stars ablaze with wintry fire, I thought about who might have killed Patrick Blaine. His ex-wife, Rita, was a candidate, especially if she hadn’t known he’d let his insurance lapse to nearly nothing. That seemed to let Deb Jenkins off the hook, but then again, I’d seen her being awfully cozy with Lincoln Klein, the builder who was also a suspect on my list. Had she simply moved on to another man after hers had been killed, or was there more to it than that? And what about the builder himself? That model we’d found destroyed was a sign that all was not well there. But was it because of
Blaine’s death, or was the banker’s murder a direct result of a failed project? And then there was the sleazy investor, Mr. Rand. I didn’t like him, but I tried not to let that cloud my judgment. If I was being honest with myself, I had to admit that particular lead had petered out. I wouldn’t have invested money I found under a seat cushion with him, but that didn’t make him a murderer. Was that it, then? Did my entire list of suspects include the ex-wife, Rita Blaine, the ex-mistress, Deb Jenkins, the ex-business partner Lincoln Klein, or another party I wasn’t aware of yet? Was there someone else lurking in the background, someone I’d spoken to, but not been aware of their stake in the murder? Could Vicki Houser have more motive than I’d found? Was her leaving town simply a ruse to divert suspicion? I had to admit it was possible if I was being fair about it. In fact, it might not even be anyone I’d talked to. Chief Martin and Jake might very well be on the killer’s heels, and I’d just been going around annoying people for nothing. It wasn’t a possibility I was ready to accept.
I wasn’t sure where to turn next, but I did know it was time to go back home. My fit of pique had dissipated with the cold, and I knew my mother’s intentions—no matter how much they frustrated me—were well meaning. She loved me, and I couldn’t fault her for that.
I was a hundred yards from home, and could see the soft glow of the lights inside, when someone jumped out of the bushes and grabbed me from behind.
I struggled against the attacker’s grip, determined to go down swinging. The assailant might get the better of me, but I was going to make sure whoever had me knew they’d been in a fight. One of the attacker’s forearms covered my mouth, while the other hand pinned my right arm behind my back. I could feel the rough texture of some kind of ski mask on my cheek, and the heat from their breath sent cold chills through me. I was alone in the darkness with someone who wanted to harm me, and I didn’t even have a house key on me to jab at them with. If I ever lived through this, I promised myself I’d be better prepared the next time.
I had enough to deal with at the moment, though. I tried to struggle free, but it was useless. I was strong—or at least I liked to think so—but my attacker was stronger.
“Stop fighting me, or I’ll really have to hurt you,” the voice whispered in my ear.
“You’re going to hurt me anyway,” I said as I tried to kick backward.
The assailant’s grip tightened on my arm, forcing it higher up my back, and I stopped struggling, at least until I could get some kind of advantage.
A rough voice whispered, “If you don’t butt out of this and mind your own business, I’m going to do more than hurt you, and that’s a promise.”
There was more of a threat in the voice than I could imagine, not because of the intensity of the words, but from the lack of it. If the tone of voice was real, the attacker would have no more compunction hurting me than swatting an annoying fly.
I had to do something.
I took a deep breath, then drove the fingernails of my free hand into the arm that covered my mouth. I don’t have much in the way of nails, since they interfere with working the dough at my shop, but they were long enough to make the attacker’s grip ease as I jabbed them downward into the arm. I hoped I’d drawn blood with the attack, but I couldn’t be sure. All I knew was that I was suddenly free.
I had no fight instinct left in me. It was time to run. With everything I had, I raced for my momma’s front porch, hoping the attacker wasn’t going to follow me and finish the job.
As I stumbled inside the door of my house, I said, “Did you call Chief Martin yet?”
“No, I didn’t want to make you any angrier than you already were.”
“You’d better call him after all. Somebody just attacked me in the park. He’d better get over here.” I dead-bolted the door as soon I got inside, then went into the closet for a baseball bat we kept there for protection. It wouldn’t stop a bullet, but I’d put my swing up against just about anything else. I had been a pretty mean softball player in high school, and I still knew how to swing for the fences.
All of my mother’s defiance left her as she rushed to me. “Are you all right? I’m so sorry.”
“Why? You didn’t grab me from behind out there.”
“No, but you ran off because of me. Tell me what happened, Suzanne,” she said.
“Momma, you know I love you, but I just want to do this one time, okay? Get the chief over here, and you can hear all about it when I tell him what happened.”
She nodded, and reached for the phone as I slumped down on the couch. The threat had been all too real, and I wondered who I’d spooked enough to make them come after me.
In a way, I guess it was progress, but not the kind I’d been hoping for.
“So let me get this straight,” the chief said after he’d heard my story twice in our living room. “You didn’t see who attacked you, and after he grabbed you from behind and threatened you, he just ran off. Is that it?”
My mother snapped, “Phillip Martin, I expect you take my daughter’s complaint seriously.”
The chief of police for April Springs was a large man, carrying thirty pounds more than he should have. He was my mother’s age, but still had a full head of ginger hair, though it was starting to go white at the temples.
“I’m interviewing her, aren’t I? Dorothy, I’ve got three officers I can’t spare investigating the park even as we speak. What more can I do?”
“You can believe her when she tells you that she was mugged,” my mother said.
He nodded. “I believe that’s exactly what happened.”
“Hey, wait a second,” I protested. “This wasn’t just some random act of violence. It had something to do with Patrick Blaine’s murder. And you keep saying it was a man. I can’t be sure that’s true. It could have been a woman.”
“So now you’re changing your story?”
I had to bite back my temper. “I never said it was a man. But whoever it was, I know it was because of what I’ve been doing.”
The chief shook his head. “You have no proof of that, Suzanne.” He frowned, then added, “From what I’ve been hearing around town, you’re under the impression that you’re better at my job than I am. Now you’re saying that you’re so good, the killer is afraid of your investigation, but not mine?”
He stared at me, no doubt waiting for me to deny what I’d been up to, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of admitting I was exploring the crime, as well.
“Let’s get back to the mugging,” my mother said.
I interrupted her. “I wasn’t mugged, Momma. The voice told me to butt out or I’d be next. Does that sound like a random attack to you?”
“I’m sorry, Suzanne,” my mother said, obviously a little flustered by my retort. “I misspoke.”
The chief’s cell phone rang, and he moved over by the window to take the call out of our hearing.
As he was talking, Momma said, “I’m trying to support you here, you know that, don’t you?”
I patted her shoulder gently. “I know. I guess I’m just a little jumpy.”
“With the week you’ve had, you’ve got every right to be,” she said.
Chief Martin hung up, then said, “They swept the park twice, and nobody’s there.”
“Not now,” I said. “Why on earth would they stick around after they attacked me?”
The chief blew out a huff of air. “Suzanne, there’s nothing I can do about it if I can’t find anyone to question. But it might not be a bad idea to take his advice.”
I couldn’t believe he was suggesting it. “So, you’re taking this bully’s side over mine? I should just crawl into a hole and pull it in after me, is that what you think?”
“What I think is that you should let me do my job,” he said, not even trying to hide the aggravation in his voice.
“I’m disappointed in you, Phillip,” my mother said.
“Dorothy, you know I hate like fire going against you, but Suzanne’s going to
get herself into trouble if she keeps trying to do my job for me.”
My mother just shook her head. “It appears she has to, since you’re not making any progress. Thank you for coming by, Phillip. You may see yourself out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, obviously hurt by her curt tone. Perhaps he was finally beginning to learn that no matter what he did, he’d never have her for his own.
After he was gone, Momma said, “Suzanne, you need to stop this, and I mean this instant.”
“You’re taking everybody else’s side? What happened to loving and supporting me?”
She shook her head. “Don’t do that, child. I love you, and I can’t bear to see you get hurt. You’re all the family that I have left. Don’t you understand that?”
A trail of tears slowly slid down her cheek, and I hugged her before I wiped it away.
After a few moments, she said, “Do you promise?”
“No, ma’am, I’m sorry, but I can’t. This isn’t something I want to do. I have to, or I might be next.”
“Not if you stop right now.”
I shrugged. “I can’t take that chance.”
This was getting us nowhere.
There was a knock at the door, and I found myself hoping it was Jake Bishop.
It was Officer Grant, one of my regular customers, instead.
“Sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I was out sweeping the park with everyone else, and I thought you should know for your own peace of mind, there’s nobody’s out there.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
After he left, I started for my room, and Momma asked, “Where are you going?”
“To bed.”
She said, “Do you honestly think you can sleep with all that’s happened?”
I glanced at the clock. “It’s nearly nine o’clock, and I have to be up at one. When do you suggest I go to bed? If I don’t get some sleep, I’ll never make it through tomorrow.”
“Good night, then.”
I made it into my room and collapsed on the bed. I worried over what had happened for thirty seconds, then I let it all slip away. I’d learned early on that the only way to function with my crazy schedule was to sleep whenever I could, for however long I could manage.
