I didn’t know what these potential clues meant, but I hoped they meant something.
While I was paying for the cufflinks, another customer came in and asked the employee if the owner was in that day.
“Never this early,” the employee answered. “He’s more of a night owl.”
“Can I leave a note?”
The employee excused herself from processing my transaction and brought a pad of paper and pen over to the other customer.
I turned my head, absent-mindedly watching the transaction, and was surprised to see a familiar face. The other customer in the store was the blonde, Harper, who I’d met at the Fox and Hound.
Busted!
She had denied knowing Mr. Jenkins, the costume shop owner, yet here she was, in the same pawn shop as his cufflinks.
“Harper,” I said in a friendly tone.
She didn’t look up from her pad of paper.
I tried again. “Hi there, Harper.”
She handed the paper to the employee, turned, and walked right out of the shop without acknowledging me.
The employee rubbed her shaved head and gave me a curious look. “Your friend didn’t want to talk to you.”
“She’s not my friend. She must not have heard me, or…” I didn’t finish my sentence out loud. Or maybe she didn’t look over because her name isn’t Harper.
The employee printed out my receipt and handed it over with the cufflinks.
I thanked her and hurried out of the store, hoping to see the blonde whose name may or may not have been Harper.
What would I do if I saw her? Follow her? Corner her and demand an explanation?
I scanned the parking lot and looked along the other shops in the strip mall, but couldn’t see any sign of her.
She got away.
I vowed that the next time I spotted that girl, she wasn’t going to slip away without answering a few questions.
Chapter 21
After Harper disappeared on me, I spent another hour walking along the nearby businesses looking for her. I got a few more appreciative glances and nods from young men who were not ideal dating candidates, but whose attention was still appreciated, nonetheless.
When I’d finished checking every neighboring storefront, I returned to my car and started driving back to the hospital. The afternoon rush hour was starting already and the trip took twice as long as it had taken in the reverse direction.
Sitting in traffic for even a few minutes made me regret the few complaints I had about Misty Falls. No matter how disappointing I found the sweet and sour chicken balls from the town’s only Chinese food restaurant, at least I could get to the restaurant in five minutes if the one light on that route was green.
By the time I got to the hospital, I was hungry enough to eat a whole plate of the Golden Wok’s sweet and sour chicken balls without complaint.
I took the elevator up to my father’s floor and walked down to his room. I was happy to see he was awake, and surprised that he already had company.
Sitting next to my father’s hospital bed was Officer Tony Milano, who greeted me with a solemn nod. My skin got clammy immediately. If Tony was here, that meant something awful had happened.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
My father was sitting up in bed, awake and alert. He almost looked like his usual self, except for the green hospital gown and a scruffy jawline in need of a shave.
“The usual,” my father said calmly. “The Misty Falls police department is trying to pin a murder on me.”
“Not again,” I said.
He shrugged. “It’s been a few years. I suppose this is their way of letting me know that just because I’ve been put out to pasture, I haven’t been forgotten.”
I went to stand next to the bed, on the opposite side of where Tony sat. I didn’t take a chair, because I wanted to remain standing, looking down at him threateningly.
Scowling, I demanded, “You’re not seriously going after my father for this one, are you? Don’t you have more important things to do?”
“More important than catching a murderer?” Tony’s dark eyebrows raised. “I’m just doing my job, Stormy.”
“It’s okay,” my father said to me, sounding defeated. “I’d come after me too, if I were him. And I did utter death threats on multiple occasions. The old man knew I was joking. Everyone did. But I still said what I said. Threats are threats.”
Tony flipped through the pages of a small notebook. “You said you would ‘choke some sense’ into Mr. Michaels. What did you mean by that?”
“Just what I said. That I wanted to choke some sense into him, because he had no right getting into my personal business.”
“You can’t go around threatening to choke sense into people, Finn.”
My father grinned up at Tony. “But I’m just a harmless retiree now, enjoying my golden years. Surely nobody takes anything I say seriously.”
I patted my father’s hand. “Dad, you don’t have to answer these questions now. We can talk to a lawyer.”
He swatted my hand away. “Don’t try to shush me. You’re as bad as Pam.”
“I am NOT as bad as Pam.” I turned to Tony and shook my head emphatically as I told him, too, “I’m nothing like Pam, and I certainly won’t be turning into her.”
My father laughed. “Let’s hope not.”
He found this amusing, but I wasn’t laughing.
Tony consulted his notepad then asked my father, “What did you and Mr. Michaels disagree over?”
My father scratched the gray scruff on his chin. “Hmm. What didn’t we disagree over? We’ve been neighbors so long. We started off on the wrong foot, right from the beginning. He kept asking what the girls’ real names were.”
I interrupted to say, “Did he really?”
“Yes. He thought I called you two Sunny and Stormy just to irritate him. One time, I showed him your birth certificates, and he said I had the connections to have fake ones made up.”
“I never knew about that.” My legs felt shaky with the weight of this news. The idea that our cranky old neighbor actually cared about me and my sister… it made me feel more upset about his death.
My father turned to me with sad eyes and said, “Take a seat. I have something to tell you.”
I pulled a visitor’s chair from the wall and took a seat next to my father’s bed, across from Tony. We both leaned in, waiting for what he was about to say.
My father took my hand, looked into my eyes, and said, “He was right about the birth certificates for you girls. I did fake them.”
“What?”
He took a deep breath and said, “Stormy, I’ve lied to you your whole life. You were named after your great-great-grandfather. Your real name is Ignateous.” He smirked. “And your sister’s name is Spalding, like the tennis balls.”
I yanked my hand away and rolled my eyes. “Oh, Dad. You’re the worst.” I shook my head and said to Tony, “Did he ever tell you about how he had Sunny convinced that our mother was Barbara Eden’s character from that old series, I Dream of Jeannie? Not the actress, but the character. We had an old Chianti bottle on the mantle, and he swore up and down that she lived in there and watched over us when he had to work nights.”
“Did it work?” Tony asked. “Did that make you girls behave? And if it did, can I borrow the Chianti bottle for my house?”
I gave Tony a big grin. “You can borrow it any time.”
“And he can take your imaginary friend, too,” Dad said. “What was his name? Jameson Green? Johnny Purple? Whoever he was, you were obsessed with him. I’d hear you chatting away in your room, all alone.”
I rolled my eyes again. “Oh, Dad. I didn’t really believe in imaginary friends.”
“You most certainly did,” he said.
Tony, who was looking very amused by this, cut in to say, “I remember that friend. He was the one who did all the bad things Stormy denied doing. I think he egged Mr. Michaels’ house at Halloween. What was that guy’s name?”
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I sighed heavily “You guys. I didn’t think he was real.”
Dad look at Tony, and in all seriousness said, “He was real. I saw him once. Eating all the Girl Scout cookies Stormy was supposed to sell.”
I glanced around his room looking for medications. “What kind of pills have they got you on, Dad? I think they need to dial the levels down. How is the hip, anyway?”
Dad groaned and adjusted his position in the bed. “My hip? It’ll be better once I’m out of this bed and moving around again. Dora says I’ll have to walk with a cane. I told her I would, but only if it’s one of those super spy canes that turns into a sword.”
I shook my head. “That’s just what you need. A sword. For what?”
“Obviously to murder the rest of the neighbors on the block.” He covered his mouth with one hand. “Oops, was that out loud? The sword-cane would be to protect myself. There’s a serial killer on the loose, don’t you know?”
I grabbed his hand and squeezed it while I gave him a serious look. “Dad, don’t joke around. Would you just answer Tony’s questions about Mr. Michaels? I’m sure he has more important things to do, like chase down the actual killer.”
He squeezed my hand and said, very gravely, “I know I shouldn’t joke around. The truth is… I want a cane sword because of those giant warehouse-sized jars Pam always buys because they’re such good value. Because of the arthritis in my hands, I don’t like reaching my hand into the cold juice. I’d use my new cane sword to get out the last pickles.”
That comment about the pickles got Tony snickering, and then they were both laughing like the way they used to in the old days.
If Tony was ever going to get any straight answers from him about Mr. Michaels, it would have to be with the two of them alone.
I patted my father’s arm to get his attention for a moment. “Dad, I’m going to leave you guys for a minute, but I’ll wait outside of the room, because I still need to talk to Tony about something. Please just answer his questions and don’t say anything weird, okay? I can see by your pupils that you’re high as a kite on pain meds, so just stick to yes and no answers, and if you get confused, call for me.”
He seemed annoyed to have me talking to him like he was a doddering old man, but agreed and waved for me to leave them.
I walked out of the room and stood a few feet outside the door, listening. Tony must have guessed that was exactly what I’d do, because he closed the door behind me. They stopped joking around and began speaking in low voices, getting down to business. I couldn’t hear anything.
The rest of the hospital buzzed with ordinary daily activity. A man about my father’s age walked by slowly, using a walker for balance as a young physical therapist cheered him on.
I looked around for my father’s therapist, Dora. I spotted her down the hall, with another patient. She gave me a smile and a wave, but didn’t come over, to my relief.
I took out my phone and found a dozen messages from Jessica.
Highlights included:
Isn’t Harper sweet? The three of us are going to have so much fun!
Hey, who was the guy with the beard again? He was cute underneath the beard, I think. We should shave him down and see!
Where are you?
It’s margarita o’clock. Right now.
Stormy! Where are you?
I started to compose a message asking her what she knew about Harper, then decided an interrogation would be less creepy in person, so I asked if I could stop by her place around dinner.
She wrote back immediately: Sure, but I have zero food in the house, unless you count dried beans.
I replied: Don’t sweat it! You provide some clean plates and I’ll grab some pizza on my way over.
We texted back and forth a few more times about pizza toppings. Before long, the door to my father’s room opened and Officer Tony Milano came out.
I jumped to my feet. “You’re wasting your time talking to my father. In fact, he’s probably messing around with you because he’s lonely and bored here in the hospital.”
“I’m just doing my job. In a small town, you can’t skip investigating the people you think you know, or you’ll have to skip everyone.”
“But I’ve got a stranger for you. You’ll know her when you see her, because she’s really pretty. Too pretty for Misty Falls, but whatever. She knows my friend Jessica, and when I see her tonight, I’ll find out more.”
He scrunched his dark eyebrows at me. “What do you mean by too pretty for Misty Falls? Is that a slam against people who never left here? You should realize you’re one of us now, even though you took off and came home with your tail between your legs.”
“My tail between my legs?” I got up from my seat, reached out, and pushed him back by the shoulders. “You take that back.”
He licked his lips, narrowed his golden brown eyes at me, and said, “No. You left. And now you’re back, but only because you’re defeated. As soon as you lick your wounds, you’ll fly out of here again.”
“I will not.” I looked around to make sure nobody was watching us, and I gave him another shove. “Just because you watched me grow up, you don’t know me now. I’m not a little girl throwing temper tantrums.”
He tilted his head to the side and smirked. “Why don’t you shove me one more time and say that?”
I pulled my hands behind my back and looked away as my cheeks burned. “Sorry.”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t mind so much, but I am in uniform, Stormy. If you feel the need to beat me up because you’re angry I didn’t stay in touch after you moved away, wait until I’m in civilian clothes.”
I kept looking down at the shiny, buffed floor of the hospital hallway. “Tony, I’m not angry at you. Maybe there was a time, for a while, that I was angry, but I’m okay now.”
“You’re still Stormy, though. Even when the sun is shining, those dark clouds are on the horizon.”
I flicked my gaze up and saw that he was definitely teasing me, with a huge smirk on his face.
“You shut up.” I launched myself at him a third time and gave him a shove powerful enough to make him stagger back. “You heard my father. My real name is Ignateous, not Stormy. I’m going to change it back.”
He chuckled. “That’s not even a real name.”
“You’re one to talk, Tony Baloney.”
He nodded for me to walk down the hall with him. “Let’s check out the cafeteria, shall we? I’m sure you’ve got some theories about what happened to Mr. Michaels.”
“For one thing, I suspect it was a suicide, and he set the whole thing up to pin it on my father as the final revenge in their decades-old battle over who was responsible for that spindly hedge between their yards.”
“Hmm.”
We started walking toward the elevator.
“That’s obviously a total joke,” I said.
“I figured you were joking, but when I started on the force, I had a fantastic mentor who told me to consider absolutely everything, no matter how crazy it sounded.”
Chapter 22
The hospital cafeteria had just put away the lunch buffet and didn’t have the dinner ready yet, so we chose some sandwiches from the cooler and paired them with bowls of hot vegetable soup.
Tony insisted on paying for both of our meals, despite my protests, which caused the woman ringing in our meals to make big doe eyes at him.
“Do you get that a lot?” I asked him as we made our way over to a table by the cafeteria’s wall of windows.
He didn’t understand what I meant, so I explained, “Women gawking at you, just because you’re tall and handsome and wearing a police uniform. And she didn’t charge you for your sandwich, just for mine.”
He unwrapped the plastic wrap off my sandwich, then his.
“Nothing escapes your notice, does it?” he teased. “If we have another citizen get reported missing, I’ll call you up first and ask you where the body is.”
I laughed for a moment, then leane
d in and said, in a hushed voice, “I know you’re not supposed to share your cases with regular civilians, but I’ve got someone working at the gift shop now, and I’ll have some time on my hands. Do you think I could help, like how I used to help you and Dad?”
He raised his eyebrows, looking skeptical. “Like a consultant? I’m afraid we don’t have the money for that.”
I hurriedly chewed and swallowed my bite of sandwich so I could answer, “I wouldn’t ask to get paid. I just need to keep busy.”
“What happens if you don’t keep busy?”
I stared into his golden brown eyes. What would happen if I didn’t keep busy? I didn’t know. Maybe I would go to one of those meditation classes, or learn how to snowboard.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Please don’t answer that,” he said.
“Because you’ll feel sorry for me?”
“Because people who have a new baby, plus a couple of pre-teens, do not want to hear about single people and their exciting lifestyles.” He looked down at his sandwich, then frowned as though confused by it. “Did I just cut this sandwich into quarters?”
“It wasn’t me.”
“Tony Junior will only eat sandwiches cut into quarters. I must have been on autopilot there. See? This is what kids and lack of sleep does to you.”
“Plus a murder investigation.”
He gestured for me to eat up. “Go on. Finish your soup and at least half your sandwich, or you don’t get any dessert. They just put out a fresh tray of Jell-O, and it’s my treat. But you have to eat your lunch first.”
I giggled. “Okay. You’re good at that.”
We ate our lunch and then, true to his word, Tony bought us two freshly-cubed bowls of Jell-O.
Between mouthfuls, I said, “I haven’t had Jell-O in years.”
“If you don’t like the red cubes, I’ll eat them.”
I moved my arm around my bowl protectively. “Nice try. Those are the best ones.”
He chuckled. “I should get driving back to town. You said you had a lead for me to follow up on? Someone connected to the victim?”
“Not exactly. At first, I thought she was connected to Mr. Jenkins.”
Death of a Dapper Snowman Page 12
