For Whom the Bread Rolls

by Sarah Fox

  “That’s your last one, Winkler,” the bartender said as he passed by, on his way to deliver two drinks to a couple sitting at the far end of the bar.

  Terry mumbled a few choice words under his breath, but didn’t otherwise complain.

  He shook his head. “I didn’t kill her.” He seemed to be talking more to himself than to me now.

  “We all know you didn’t,” the bartender said as he took Terry’s glass away.

  “You have an alibi?” I said, surprised by the bartender’s statement.

  Although I’d directed the question at Terry, the bartender was the one who answered.

  “The night before Ida died, he was in about the same condition as he is right now. He didn’t have anywhere to go, so I let him crash on my couch. He didn’t wake up till noon.” He cast a look at Terry. “You snore like a locomotive, Winkler.”

  For some reason, Terry found that funny. He laughed hard, almost falling off of his stool again, before he smacked his ample stomach. “I’m a hungry locomotive!” He laughed again.

  With a shake of his head, the bartender pushed a bowl of pretzels toward Terry. When Terry crammed a handful into his mouth, crumbs spilling out onto his beard, I decided there wasn’t much point in trying to talk to him further.

  After slipping off the barstool, however, I paused. Without Terry noticing, I quickly snapped a picture of him with my phone. Then I left him with his snack and met up with Lisa.

  “Did you walk here?” I asked her as we stepped out into the rain.

  “Yes. I was hoping the rain would let up. Clearly, I was overly optimistic.”

  “Don’t worry. I brought my car.”

  We hurried to my blue hatchback and climbed in.

  “So what did that guy have to say?” she asked as she did up her seatbelt. “Is he Ida’s husband?”

  “Yes.” I started the car. “But he has an alibi for the time of her death. Apparently he was passed out drunk on the bartender’s couch. I took a picture of him to show Joan, though.”

  “Joan? Why?”

  “To see if he could be the prowler she saw.”

  “If he was the prowler, that would be one less suspicious circumstance left unexplained.”

  “Exactly. And there’s a good chance he’s the man you heard arguing with Ida last week.”

  When I pulled up to the curb in front of Lisa’s house, the rain was easing, only the occasional drop splatting against the windshield. Lisa opened the passenger door but paused before getting out of the car.

  “Do you want to see if Joan will look at the photo now?”

  “Sure.”

  The summer evening wasn’t as light as usual, thanks to the cloud cover, and one of Joan’s front windows glowed with lamplight. When Lisa pressed the doorbell, we heard Angel’s excited barks, and only a few seconds passed before Joan opened the door.

  “What a nice surprise,” she said as Angel squeezed past her legs to greet us on the front porch. “Would you ladies like to come in?”

  “Just for a moment, thanks,” Lisa said, stepping inside after giving Angel a pat on the head. “Marley has something to show you.”

  I greeted Angel and followed Lisa into the foyer. With the little dog sniffing at my Converse sneakers, I pulled Terry’s picture up on my phone. I held the device out to Joan once she’d shut the door. “Could this be the man you saw in the alley the night before Ida’s death?”

  Joan accepted my phone and studied the picture. It showed a side view of Terry, from his waist up.

  “He certainly has the right build,” Joan said, handing my phone back. “I can’t say for sure that it was him, but it could have been.”

  “I think there’s a good chance that it was him, then.” I tucked my phone back into my bag. “He was probably waiting for an opportunity to break into the house.”

  “Is that the same man who the sheriff caught over there last night?” Joan asked.

  “That’s right. He’s Ida’s husband. Estranged husband, to be more precise.”

  “Goodness. I didn’t even know the woman was married.”

  “You didn’t either?” Lisa said. “I guess they’d been separated for a while.”

  “When did Ida move into that house?” I asked out of curiosity.

  “Three or four years ago?” Lisa looked to her neighbor for confirmation.

  Joan nodded. “Just over three.”

  “Apparently Terry Winkler has been in prison,” I said. “I figure that’s why he only showed up recently to get what he thinks belongs to him.”

  Joan bent down and scooped Angel up into her arms. “Could he be the murderer?”

  “The thought crossed my mind,” I said, “but it turns out that he has an alibi for the time of the murder. But at least we’ve likely explained the presence of one of the two prowlers.”

  “Two prowlers?” Joan said with interest.

  I quickly filled her in on the man I’d seen in the alley.

  “What about other suspects?” Joan asked. “Is the sheriff closing in on anyone?”

  “Not that I know of,” I replied. “All he’s told me is that he’s exploring several avenues of investigation.”

  “At least he’s not investigating Marley anymore,” Lisa said.

  Joan stroked Angel’s fur. “He’s not?”

  “I don’t think my name’s been officially cleared, but Sheriff Georgeson doesn’t believe I’m guilty, and as far as I know he’s got other suspects to focus on.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Joan said. “Do you know who any of those suspects are?”

  “Not really. I could guess, but I don’t actually know who’s being investigated.”

  Lisa put her hand on the doorknob. “We won’t keep you any longer, Joan. Thanks for taking a look at the picture.”

  “You will let me know if you hear anything further, won’t you, Lisa?” Joan requested.

  “Of course.”

  I thanked Joan for her help and gave Angel a parting pat. Lisa and I headed next door to her house, where we settled in to watch one of my favorite movies, Rear Window. I was glad that my conversations with Terry Winkler and Joan had allowed me to fit a couple of puzzle pieces together. Unfortunately, there were far more—and much bigger—pieces still missing.

  Chapter 20

  By the time the movie finished and I left Lisa’s house, I was more than ready for bed. I’d stayed up later than usual, and I knew five A.M. would come around quickly. The rain had stopped and there were a few patches of sky visible between the parting clouds, though the moon was still hidden from sight. I wanted to talk to Brett before I went to sleep, but I knew it might be too late for that. He didn’t start work quite as early as I did each morning, but he was usually up by six o’clock.

  Remembering that he was going to talk to his uncle about the phone call I’d overheard, I dug my phone out of my bag as soon as I pulled up in front of my house. I shut and locked the car door, checking my text messages as I walked slowly up the steps to the front porch. I’d just tapped on a message from Brett when a shadow on the porch suddenly shifted.

  Startled, I stumbled backward and lost my footing on the stairs. I tried to grab the railing, but it was out of reach, and I went tumbling down the steps. When I hit the ground, I jumped back to my feet, but I wavered, off balance.

  The shadow on the porch moved again, morphing into the shape of a person.

  “Sorry for startling you,” a woman’s voice said.

  A break in the clouds let some moonlight shine through and I got my first real look at the woman.

  “Mrs. Paulson?”

  “That’s right. I stopped by to have a word with you. When I realized you weren’t home, I decided to wait a while. I must have dozed off there on the porch.”

  Still recovering from my surprise, I brushed damp dirt from my shorts. The moonlight grew brighter for a moment and I noticed what I’d missed upon my arrival—a dark-colored car parked off to the side of the house.

 
“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?” I asked, wary of her intentions. I hadn’t forgotten the venomous look she’d sent my way in the bank.

  “Shall we sit?” She gestured to the two chairs on the porch.

  She claimed one seat without waiting for my response, but I went first to the door, unlocking it and reaching inside to switch on the porch light.

  “How did you know where to find me?” I asked as I sat down in the second chair. “I didn’t think you even knew my name.”

  “It only takes a bit of asking around to find someone in a town like Wildwood Cove.”

  She said those words with a pleasant enough smile on her face, but I couldn’t help but feel uneasy in her presence.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked, wanting to know the reason for her late-night visit.

  “I was hoping for some understanding and discretion. You see, my husband and I have reputations to protect. He’s running for mayor in the next election, and I don’t want his chances of winning to be ruined by idle gossip.”

  I bristled at her last word, but tried to keep my annoyance out of my voice. “Does this have something to do with your conversation at the church? Because I didn’t hear much, and that was completely accidental.”

  “I saw you watching me and Rex too. Why are you so interested in my private business?”

  “I’m not, unless it has to do with Ida Winkler’s murder.”

  That seemed to catch her off guard. “The murder? Why would you think I had any connection to that woman’s death?”

  “That day at the church, you said everything would be fine with ‘that woman gone,’ ” I reminded her. “And since Ida Winkler had just died, I figured you might have been referring to her.”

  “I was, but that doesn’t mean I had anything to do with her murder.”

  “If you thought she was blackmailing you, you had a motive to kill her.”

  Her eyes widened. “How did you find out about the blackmail?”

  “You weren’t the only victim.”

  It took a second for her to absorb my words. “I’m a suspect?”

  “Your husband is on the sheriff’s radar. That much I know.”

  “Mitch? Why?”

  “He has the same motive as you do, and I saw someone matching his description climbing over Ida’s fence a few nights ago.”

  Deanna shook her head. “No, no, no. Mitch didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure! He was at work when that woman was killed.”

  “Then why was he creeping around Ida’s house at night?” I asked.

  Part of me expected her to deny that he’d done so, but she didn’t.

  “He wanted to see if he could get into her house. We thought maybe she’d kept a record of who she was blackmailing and what information she had about them. We didn’t want any evidence of that type coming to light.”

  “Did he get in?”

  “It was locked up tight and he didn’t have the nerve to break in.” She shook her head again. “What a mess.”

  A second of silence ticked by before she gathered herself together.

  She sat up straighter and locked her eyes on me. “Who have you shared this with?”

  “Sheriff Georgeson.”

  “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

  “There’s a murder investigation going on,” I reminded her.

  “And I’m trying to protect my family. Mitch and I have worked hard to attain our high standing in the community, and my son will one day be an esteemed doctor. If your interference ruins any of that…” She flashed me a fake smile. “I’m sure you can understand my concerns.”

  “I can,” I said.

  “Good.” She stood up and brushed off the skirt of her dress. “Then I hope I can count on you to spread word of my private life no further.”

  “I do know how to be discreet,” I said, not willing to give her any direct assurances.

  That was apparently enough to appease her though.

  “I’m glad we had this chat then. Good night, Ms. McKinney.”

  “Good night.”

  I stayed where I was until she’d climbed into her car and driven off. When I entered the house, Flapjack was waiting for me in the foyer, and he greeted me by winding around my legs, purring. I kicked off my sneakers and gathered the tabby into my arms, burying my face in his orange fur.

  “Deanna Paulson nearly gave me a heart attack when I got home,” I told Flapjack.

  He purred and snuggled up against me.

  “I’m glad you’re not stressed out.”

  I kissed the top of his head and set him down on the floor. With my phone in hand, I headed upstairs to my bedroom, Flapjack padding along behind me. I changed into pajamas and flopped down on the edge of my bed to finally read the text message Brett had sent me.

  Ray said if he can spare someone to keep an eye on Jake tomorrow night, he will.

  But if he couldn’t spare someone, then the opportunity to catch the culprits in the act of illegal dumping would slip by. That left me frustrated, but I moved on to the rest of Brett’s message.

  Hope you had fun with Lisa. Can I stop by The Flip Side to see you tomorrow?

  I checked the time on the message. Brett had sent it more than an hour earlier. The time had edged past eleven o’clock and exhaustion was quickly catching up with me. So instead of phoning Brett, I sent him a quick text message in reply.

  Please do stop by! Good night!

  I followed that up with an emoticon blowing a kiss before muting my phone and setting it on the bedside table. As soon as I’d brushed my teeth, I climbed into bed, Flapjack settling at my feet. While I’d felt wary in Deanna’s presence, I now doubted that she was a killer. She’d seemed genuinely surprised that her name had come up in relation to a murder investigation. Maybe her husband still belonged on the suspect list, but my mind was far too foggy to draw any conclusions in that regard, and I decided that would have to wait until morning.

  —

  Although it felt like my alarm went off mere minutes after I’d fallen asleep, I managed to drag myself out of bed and get through my morning routine. Before The Flip Side opened, I called Ray and left a message for him, briefly outlining my conversation with Deanna Paulson and the things I’d overheard her say to her husband and Rex Orman. Then I allowed myself to get lost first in business tasks and later in serving customers during the breakfast rush.

  The crowd of diners had just started to thin out when Deputy Devereaux came in through the front door and caught my eye.

  “Will you two be all right without me for a bit?” I asked Leigh as I untied my apron.

  “Sure.” She glanced toward the deputy. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, I just have a few things to report.” When she raised her eyebrows, I added, “I’ll tell you more later.”

  Leaving Leigh and Sienna to look after the diners, I led Deputy Devereaux to the office.

  “I understand you have some information to share regarding Mr. and Mrs. Paulson,” Devereaux said once we were alone.

  “I do,” I confirmed.

  I went on to tell him everything in detail.

  “Did she threaten you?” he asked once I’d finished.

  “No, she didn’t.” I remembered what she’d said about her husband being at work when Ida was killed. “Do you know if Mitch Paulson has an alibi for the time of Ida’s death?”

  “He does,” Devereaux said as he wrote something in his notebook. “Sheriff Georgeson had me look into that after you reported the prowler matching his description.”

  I slumped back in my chair. “So it could be that they’re simply worried about their reputations?”

  “Looks that way.”

  At least that narrowed down my suspect list.

  Devereaux cleared his throat. “Sheriff Georgeson asked me to remind you that investigating should be left to the professionals.”

  I tried to curb my annoyance.
“The reminder’s been noted.”

  The deputy left then, and I was relieved he hadn’t given me a full lecture on keeping my nose out of the case. Brett was right. Even if my intentions were good, some people only saw my actions as meddling. But I couldn’t sit back and do nothing. Maybe I wasn’t a serious suspect, but I didn’t want to leave doubt of my innocence in anyone’s mind, and I still had Chloe to protect. She was more than my boyfriend’s sister. She was also my friend, and I wanted the killer caught before her name ended up on the official suspect list.

  I was still slumped in the chair behind the desk when someone tapped on the doorframe. As soon as I saw Brett standing there, a smile replaced the small frown that had taken shape on my face. Brett, however, looked far more concerned than happy.

  “Morning.” I got up to greet him, but his concerned expression didn’t fade when I kissed him.

  “I saw Deputy Devereaux on my way in. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine.” I quickly told him what I’d shared with Devereaux.

  “Did Mrs. Paulson threaten you?” he asked, just as the deputy had.

  “She made me feel uneasy, but she didn’t make any threats.”

  His blue eyes seemed to grow darker. “I don’t like anyone making you feel unsafe.”

  I leaned into him and rested my head against his chest. “I’m fine. I promise.”

  Brett put his arms around me, but his body remained tense. “If she’s the killer…”

  “I don’t think she killed Ida.” I told him about her surprise when I’d brought up the murder investigation. “Besides, she had the opportunity to hurt me last night, and she didn’t. If she’d killed Ida, thinking that would preserve her and her husband’s reputations, why didn’t she kill me too? She didn’t want me spreading the news around about her affair, and she easily could have shut me up for good.”

  Brett’s arms tightened around me and I realized I hadn’t exactly reassured him.

  I stepped back, taking both his hands in mine. “Really, Brett, I’m okay.”

  He relaxed, the storminess fading from his eyes. “I wish you’d called me.”

  “It was late.”