by Sarah Fox
It seemed I’d be getting the lecture I’d half expected.
“Clearly someone thinks you’re mixed up in the case,” he went on. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have received the note. If the killer thinks you’re too nosy, you could be in danger.”
“I understand,” I said, not wanting to make any promises.
Luckily my response seemed to satisfy him. With a nod, he and Rutowski left, taking the note with them. As I stood by the office door, watching them go, a hum of excitement ran through my body, despite Ray’s concerns. If the note was sent by the killer, intended as a trap, and if things went according to plan, Ida’s killer could be in custody before my date with Brett that evening.
A frisson of nervousness joined my excitement. I could be coming face-to-face with a murderer in just a few hours.
I decided to do my best not to think about that part. To distract myself, I shifted my thoughts to Brett. Not allowing my fears to get in the way of our relationship any longer was the best decision I’d made in a long time. Knowing I’d get to see him again that evening helped to keep my mood buoyant, despite the nervousness that made itself known every now and then. Even a young child’s tantrum and a broken bottle of maple syrup didn’t dampen my spirits.
With Leigh’s help, I got the sticky mess of syrup and glass cleaned up and ate a light lunch before Deputy Rutowski reappeared. Although I’d told Leigh and Sienna about my plan to help the sheriff, I had yet to share that information with Ivan or Tommy.
This time Rutowski accepted my offer of coffee, and when I popped into the kitchen to grab him a clean mug, I quickly outlined the plan to the chef and his assistant.
“Awesome!” Tommy enthused. “I wish I could go along with you.” Ivan glowered at him, but Tommy shrugged, unfazed. “It’s cool that she gets to do that.”
“It’s dangerous,” Ivan countered.
“Sheriff Georgeson and Deputy Rutowski will be close by,” I assured the chef. “And I’ll be wearing a wire. Everything will be fine.”
Ivan didn’t look any happier, but that wasn’t unusual. He flipped the pancakes cooking on the griddle, saying nothing more.
I told them I’d be back later and slipped out of the kitchen, meeting up with Rutowski in the office. I handed him a mug of hot coffee and he went over the plan with me in detail.
“The sheriff will be watching from inside Ms. Winkler’s house,” he told me. “I’ll be up in the neighbor’s apple tree. That way I can stay out of sight, but if anything goes wrong, all I have to do is drop onto the roof of the garden shed and then down to the ground.”
If anything goes wrong.
Those words echoed in my head. Still, I remained undeterred.
Rutowski finished his coffee and helped me with the wire, hidden from sight by my loose T-shirt. When I followed him out of the pancake house to his cruiser, nervous butterflies fluttered around in my stomach. During the short drive to Ida’s neighborhood, I was tempted to text Brett, to let him know what I was about to do, but in the end I stopped myself. I didn’t want him to worry unnecessarily. Once the whole thing was over, I’d tell him all about it.
So as not to alert the author of the note to the police presence, Rutowski parked on Lisa’s street. He got in touch with Ray over the radio, confirming that the sheriff was already inside Ida’s house.
“Now remember,” Rutowski said as we stood outside his cruiser, “our main goal is to identify the person who set up this meeting. You don’t need to get into a long conversation with them. In fact, we’ll probably jump in quite quickly after they arrive. If they arrive. Don’t take any unnecessary risks. If you ever feel like you’re in danger, let us know and we’ll get you out of there.”
I nodded.
“Having second thoughts?” he asked.
“No, I’m ready.”
“All right. This is where I leave you, then.”
We set off in different directions, Rutowski to take his place in Sheryl Haynes’s apple tree and me to circle around the opposite and longer way to the alley, and from there to Ida’s back gate. With every step that took me closer to Ida’s property, my butterflies became more frantic, but still I didn’t doubt that I was doing the right thing. When I reached the gate in Ida’s fence—the police tape now gone—I paused, listening for any sounds coming from the other side. Aside from the distant rumble of a car’s engine and the twittering of a few birds, I heard nothing.
In case I was being watched, I didn’t try to see if I could spot Rutowski in the apple tree. Instead, I drew in a deep, steadying breath. As I let it out, I unlatched the gate and stepped into the yard. Pulling the gate shut, I scanned the area in front of me. The grass had grown longer over the last few days, but not much else had changed since I was last there. Except, of course, that Ida’s body would no longer be in the shed, but I couldn’t yet see that spot.
I knew I’d arrived only a couple of minutes before the appointed time, but I couldn’t see anyone waiting for me. Keeping some distance between myself and the shed, I walked farther into the yard so I could get a clear view of the shed’s door. My stomach tightened when I saw that the door was shut. I didn’t like the fact that I couldn’t tell if someone was hiding inside.
“Hello?” I called out quietly, but no one responded.
A scuffling sound nearly made me jump out of my skin. I froze, listening carefully. I heard the sound again, and this time I was able to pinpoint its source as the garden shed.
Reminding myself that Georgeson and Rutowski were close by, I walked slowly toward the shed’s door. Holding my breath, I yanked the door open.
A shrill scream split the air.
Someone barreled into me, knocking me off my feet.
I flailed, trying to regain my balance, but I fell backward.
As I hit the ground, a dark shape flew toward me.
Chapter 18
I winced, certain that the dark shape was about to crash into me.
Instead, it bounded off to the side. I heard another scream but couldn’t move. I’d had the wind knocked out of me when I hit the ground, and I couldn’t seem to draw in a decent breath, let alone sit up.
Over the sounds of a scuffle I heard Ray say, “Settle down.”
Then Deputy Rutowski was crouching next to me. I realized that he was the dark shape I’d seen flying toward me as he jumped off the roof of the garden shed.
“Marley? Are you all right?”
My lungs finally allowed me to fill them with oxygen. “Yes.”
He offered me a hand and I took it, letting him pull me to my feet.
Ignoring my minor aches and pains, I focused on the sheriff. To my surprise, he had Juliette Tran in handcuffs. She had cobwebs in her dark hair and a stunned expression on her face. As I stared at the scene before me, her expression morphed into an indignant one.
“What’s the meaning of all this? Get these things off me.” She rattled the cuffs securing her hands behind her back. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You attacked me,” I said.
“I didn’t attack you! I thought you were going to attack me. I was trying to get away.”
“Why would I attack you?”
“I thought you were the killer, returning to the scene of the crime.”
“Me?”
“Not you specifically,” she amended. “Although for all I know it could have been you who killed Ida. But all I saw was somebody in the doorway. I thought I was about to die.”
“But you were the one who set up the meeting,” I said.
“Meeting? What meeting?” She rattled her cuffs again and glared at the sheriff. “Are these really necessary?”
“Until we get a few things sorted out, I’m afraid so,” Ray replied.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about. What’s there to sort out?” She seemed genuinely baffled.
“Why did you want Marley to meet you here?” Deputy Rutowski asked.
“I didn’t.” Juliette looked from me to th
e deputy. “I didn’t want anyone to meet me here.”
“Then what were you doing in the garden shed?” Ray asked.
Juliette frowned. “That Ida Winkler was always stealing my flowerpots. She took some really nice ones—clay, hand-painted. When I saw the crime scene tape was no longer up, I thought I’d take a look around to see if I could find any of them stashed away.”
“So you didn’t leave a note for me at the pancake house?” I asked.
She stared at me in confusion. “Why would I do that?”
“Someone left a note for Marley, asking her to meet them here,” Ray explained. “Supposedly that person had information to share about Ms. Winkler’s death.”
“Well, that certainly wasn’t me. What would I know about Ida’s death? And if I did know something, wouldn’t I have come to you instead of her?” She jutted her chin in my direction.
“Not if it was a ploy so you could hurt me,” I said.
She seemed more perplexed than ever. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Ray unlocked the handcuffs, freeing her. “I think this has been a misunderstanding.”
Juliette rubbed her wrists. “I’ll say.”
“In the future,” Ray said, “please refrain from trespassing.”
“How else was I supposed to get my pots back?”
“If you make a report, we’ll let you know if we come across any items meeting the description of the ones you’ve lost.”
“She probably sold them on to someone else.” Juliette attempted to brush some of the cobwebs out of her hair without much success. “May I go now?”
“You may,” Ray said.
With a last frown directed at all of us, she slammed her way out the back gate and disappeared.
I looked at the sheriff and deputy, still processing what had happened. “So she didn’t write the note?”
“I don’t think so,” Ray said.
I pulled my phone from my pocket to check the time. It was several minutes after one now. “What’s the chance the person who did write it will still show up?”
“Slim to none, I’m guessing,” Rutowski said.
Ray nodded his agreement. “More likely than not, the commotion scared them off.”
“So we’re no closer to catching Ida’s killer,” I said with disappointment.
“You let us worry about that,” Ray told me. “We’re exploring several avenues of investigation.”
“I heard that Ida’s husband was found drunk here last night. Is he a suspect?”
“We’re looking into his movements on the day of his wife’s death.” He nodded at his deputy. “Rutowski, will you give Marley a ride back to The Flip Side?”
“Yes, sir.”
I stifled a sigh of disappointment, realizing that the sheriff wasn’t going to share any further information with me. After saying goodbye to Ray, I followed Rutowski out of Ida’s yard. In the alley, a flicker of movement caught my eye. I thought I’d seen someone in one of the upstairs windows over at Joan’s house, but now the window was blank. Without giving it more thought, I walked with Rutowski to his cruiser on Lisa’s street. As he drove me back to the pancake house, I rubbed my elbow, sore from hitting the ground earlier.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Rutowski asked.
“Yes. Just a couple of bruises.” This time I couldn’t hold back my sigh. I’d been so hopeful that the case would take a big step forward.
“Don’t worry,” Rutowski said, glancing my way. “We’ll find the murderer.”
I was glad he sounded so confident, but I hoped it wasn’t false confidence. I also hoped it meant he felt the same way as Ray and didn’t believe I was the killer, faking evidence to divert suspicion from myself.
Back at The Flip Side, I returned the wire to Rutowski and he went on his way.
“What happened?” Sienna whispered to me as I left the office to help out at the front of the house.
I glanced around at the remaining few diners. “I’ll tell you after closing.”
Half an hour later, the last customers had left and I locked the door behind them. I was immediately surrounded by my entire staff.
“What happened?” Sienna asked again.
“Did you catch the killer?” Tommy chimed in.
“Unfortunately, no.” I told them everything that had happened in Ida’s yard.
“So you don’t think Juliette Tran is the killer?” Leigh said when I finished.
“I think she genuinely had no idea about the note that was left for me.”
“But couldn’t she still be the murderer?” Sienna asked. “Maybe the person who wrote the note was just a prankster, or someone who really does know something and wanted to share the information with someone.”
Tommy jumped in. “If they had information, why wouldn’t they take it to the sheriff?”
“Maybe they don’t like the police,” Ivan said.
“Sure, it could be that the person who left the note isn’t the killer,” I said. “So it’s still possible that Juliette’s the murderer.”
“But you don’t think so.” Leigh must have heard the doubt in my voice.
“I’m not sure what to think at the moment, to tell you the truth. It’s all so confusing.”
“Focus on something else,” Ivan advised.
With that, he retreated to the kitchen and Tommy hurried after him.
Leigh and Sienna left a minute later, and I spent the next hour or so cleaning up and getting the pancake house ready for the next day. By the time I’d finished, I was no less confused. Although I believed that Juliette hadn’t sent me the note, I couldn’t yet strike her off my suspect list for good because I didn’t know for a fact that the killer was the one who set up the meeting. My gut told me that was the most likely scenario, but I didn’t have anything to go on beyond that. Even if Juliette wasn’t the killer, her husband was also on my suspect list. He had the same issue with Ida’s front yard as his wife did, and I didn’t know if he’d had an opportunity to commit the murder or not.
In any event, I was glad I had my date with Brett to look forward to. My heart gave a giddy skip as I remembered our night together. I couldn’t wait to see him again.
Before I left the pancake house, I decided to set up the security cameras so I wouldn’t miss out on any future opportunities to catch a suspect on video. On his way out, Tommy saw what I was about to do and insisted on giving me a hand. With his help, we had the surveillance system up and running within the hour.
Conscious of the time, I thanked Tommy and set off for the bank, comforted by the fact that the cameras would now record the views of the front and back of the restaurant. With Ida now out of the picture, I hoped there wouldn’t be any more incidents of vandalism, but if there were, at least I’d have some evidence to share with the sheriff.
When I wrapped up my business with the bank teller and turned to leave, I caught sight of Deanna Paulson standing just inside the open door to her husband’s office. She had her eyes fixed on me and her expression was anything but pleasant. Surprised by the enmity in her glare, I turned my back on her and left the bank, but the uneasy feeling she’d instilled in me remained with me for my entire walk home.
I’d never even met the woman, so why had she directed so much silent hatred my way?
I was quite sure she didn’t know I’d overheard her conversation with Rex Orman behind his dental practice, but she did know there was at least a chance I’d overheard some of what she’d said to her husband at the church. I wasn’t sure if that was enough to make her glare at me in such a venomous way, but maybe she thought I’d overheard more than I had. Perhaps she’d said something truly damning before I arrived outside the church door.
When I got home, I shrugged off my thoughts of Deanna Paulson, knowing they wouldn’t get me anywhere. I let Flapjack out through the French doors and settled on the back porch with a tall glass of iced tea. The tide was far out, the sun baking the long stretch of wet sand leading out to the wat
er’s edge. I was tempted to go for a quick swim, to allow the ocean to wash away some of the day’s tension and confusion, but in the end I decided I didn’t have enough time. Instead, I enjoyed a few more minutes of relaxation before I headed inside, leaving Flapjack stretched out in the sun at the base of the porch steps.
Up in my bedroom, I opened the closet and considered my clothing options. Although I generally preferred to dress casually, I wanted to put some extra effort into my appearance that evening. I slipped one of my favorite sundresses off its hanger and changed into it. The white dress had a pleated skirt, colorful flowers splashed across it, and blue damask trim.
When I’d finished getting ready, I called Flapjack indoors and set out an early dinner for him. I’d just set down his dish—receiving a rumbling purr of appreciation—when I heard a car approaching the house.
I met Brett at the top of the back steps, greeting him with a smile and a kiss.
“You look amazing,” he said, holding on to my hands.
“You don’t look so bad yourself.”
“I didn’t dress up.” He wore his usual summer outfit of cargo shorts and a T-shirt.
“You don’t need to.”
“Neither do you, but I’m definitely not complaining.” He pulled me close and kissed me below my left earlobe before working his way down my neck.
“I’m not complaining either,” I said, trying to keep myself from melting into him, “but weren’t we going out for dinner?”
He placed one last kiss on my lips and grinned. “Dinner it is.” He took my hand and led me down the steps and around the house to his truck. “Any preferences?”
“Not really. Wherever you want to go is fine with me.”
“There’s a new Italian place out toward Port Townsend.”
“Sounds good.”
A moment later we were on our way. When we arrived at the restaurant, the hostess led us to a cozy table with a view of the water. Once we’d been supplied with drinks and had placed orders for pasta dishes, I told Brett about the events of the day.
As he listened, that familiar crease of concern appeared between his eyebrows.
