by Raven Snow
Kosher rubbed a hand over his face. “He didn’t deserve that.”
My eyebrows rocketed upward.
“Okay, so I hated him and probably would’ve kicked his ass given the chance,” Kosher said. “But that night, he just kept wailing about how he’d made a mistake and how he couldn’t live without Vic.” He shrugged. “It got to me.”
“You’re a bleeding heart,” I said dryly.
Kosher took me out on the dock, and we boarded Chris’s boat. He pointed out a couple of seats on the deck where he and Chris had gotten wasted. The cabin was locked up tight, and I didn’t want to blast the lock open with my magic just yet. The police would be back, and Sawyer knew we were down here.
“What time did you stumble over to the cabin?” I asked.
Kosher thought about it for a moment. “I’m not sure. I got to the boat a little after midnight, so it must have been a few hours after that. I slept for a while in the cabin, and when I woke up, everyone was trying to get ahold of me.”
“So, you went home to Vic first.”
He nodded. “She filled me in…and sent me to you.”
God knows how much that must have hurt his pride. But I was the only one in town who believed he didn’t do it and could help him prove it. Vic might not have been born with a cop’s instincts, but she was quickly learning the trade.
My eyes caught movement on the opposite bank, and I pointed it out to Kosher. He squinted for a moment, and said, “Oh, that’s that environmental freak. Skipper.”
Skipper looked to be in his late twenties. His hair was shaggy and brown, kind of like my pet werewolf. Though he was far away, I could see bright red acne on his face and a nose that was likely crooked from a punch. He was wearing high-waisted khaki shorts and long socks that almost went up to his knees.
Overall, I was pretty sure he had never known the touch of a woman.
“He’s on this crusade to keep people from littering in the lake,” Kosher explained. “Mostly he just puts up posters and picks up trash. I think he’s studying some kind of bug in the waters.”
“I think I’ll have to take Skipper’s side on this,” I said, peering over the edge of the boat and into the murky waters. “Sabrina would probably appreciate if we threw our trash elsewhere.”
And who was I to argue with a lake monster?
The next stop on our little tour was the police station. I didn’t want to miss them putting Kosher in cuffs, but I also didn’t want to run the risk of them slapping a pair on me as well. They’re touchy about that whole abetting thing.
So, while Kosher did the walk of shame into his place of employment, I sank down in my seat. I grabbed a hat from the back, hoping to disguise my face enough, so I could still peer into the windows from the parking lot.
Not that anyone would mistake my hideous, old car as someone else’s.
It took a while. I nodded off a bit, startling myself awake when a car door would slam, or I’d hear someone talking with a co-worker as they headed into the station.
Finally, I saw Kosher’s sideburns walking across the parking lot to my car. His face was grim, set in a line that made him look even older than he was.
“Is this your one phone call?” I asked when he slipped into the passenger seat.
“No. I answered their questions and was warned not to leave town. I told you they wouldn’t arrest me.”
A pause. None of that explained his black mood. “Did they do anything else?”
“They suspended me,” he said, tension threaded through his voice.
I shut up then and put the car in drive. I couldn’t imagine missing a job as a cop, but I had a feeling Kosher felt differently.
He was silent the whole ride home, staring out the window like some sad music video. It was a little hard to watch. I was used to our banter, always slinging barbs at each other. I wanted that back, not this sullen silence.
“They’ll reinstate you once we clear your name,” I said, forcing myself to be kind.
He nodded, but said nothing.
Pulling up to Vic’s curb, I put the car in park. His car was still back at the motel, but I figured he could fetch it later. The guy was probably going to want to run into Vic’s waiting embrace.
It took real mental power not to gag at the thought.
Chapter Six
The night was young when I arrived at the Funky Wheel. I actually beat Jeb there, opening up the door just as he was pulling up. He was still coughing and dripping snot all over the place, though, so I wasn’t sure if I could count this as a clean win.
“Go home,” I called over my shoulder, as I went to check out the liquor supply.
“I’m fine, Miss Foxxy,” he said weakly.
Stan, who had once again ridden with me, went into the office. It was the first time I’d seen him in there, so I rolled over. He was shuffling papers around, seemingly organizing.
“Aren’t you on bathroom duty?” I asked after a moment.
“Can’t take the smell, man,” he said.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment, thinking of how good it would feel to shove a giant, pot brownie down his throat. It wouldn’t take care of all my problems, but it would sure feel good.
“I can clean it, Miss Foxxy,” Jeb said from behind me. He then went into a coughing and wheezing fit, so I disregarded his earlier words.
“If you’re staying, just work on the sound system and keep away from the customers. Anything cleaned by you at this point would just end up dirtier.”
What was the point of having employees if you had to clean your own bathrooms?
A light bulb went on, and I realized Stan and Jeb weren’t the only people I had dominion over. One short call later, and Wyatt brought Cooper over to my business. I handed the kid some cleaning supplies and set him loose.
Wyatt pressed his lips to my temple. “I’m beginning to think you married me for the free labor.”
“You’re just beginning to think that? Kind of slow for a detective.”
“Blinded by lust.”
“That explains it.”
To my relief, Wyatt stuck around to help out. The customers loved him, as he was the golden son of Waresville. He spent most of the night talking to people who had lived here their whole lives too, which meant more beers ordered and less people complaining to me about falling on the dance floor.
Despite how the night had started, by about halfway through the shift, I was all light and happy inside, hopeful for an easy shift. Stan was watching the hot dogs, Jeb was off in a corner only infecting himself, and Cooper had done a great job on the bathroom.
I parked my son at one of the booths and brought him over a pizza. Like the ravenous animal that all boys are, he dug into it with a ferocity I just couldn’t match.
Stopping my bartending briefly, I grabbed the trash and took it out back. Without the sun shining down, the air was bitter, and I was only wearing disco shorts and a sheer tank top. The wheels on my skates sliding smoothly over the concrete were the only sound in the parking lot.
When I turned back to the side door after the disposing of my burden, there was a note there. It was covered in mud, and the handwriting was sloppy with anger.
Stay away from the lake or you’ll share Chris’s fate.
I froze. It’d been a while since I was threatened. The shadows in the alley no longer seemed benign. The silence wasn’t peaceful anymore; it was eerie.
After a few minutes where my mind was whirling in circles trying to figure out who had left the note, Wyatt stuck his head through the door. Apparently, I’d been out there longer than I thought.
He got a good look at my expression and came outside to see what I was staring at. Once he’d read the note, his face went carefully neutral. But I could feel the waves of fury rolling off him. Nothing made Wyatt madder than people threatening his family.
Everything happened very quickly after that. Wyatt made one call on his cell phone, and suddenly, every cop in town was in my parking lot.<
br />
While the police herded everyone out into the parking lot, many stuck around to try and see what was going on. After it become clear no one was going to give them any good gossip, though, the rest of the stragglers wandered off into the night.
Meanwhile, the rest of the police sectioned off my alley. The crime scene guys came in next and started documenting every part of it. They took pictures, dusted for prints, and dug around in the trash.
I wasn’t sure if that last activity was for evidence or just for fun.
Of all the non-suspended police in Waresville, Wyatt was the only one who didn’t seem to have a fire under his butt. He just watched with slightly narrowed eyes as everything unfolded around him. One of his arms was around me, the other hand resting on Cooper’s shoulder.
One of the younger crime scene guys emerged from behind the dumpster some time later, holding a cell phone that looked frustratingly familiar. His face was triumphant.
Turning towards Wyatt, I buried my face in his chest, calling Kosher every bad name in the book. Some of my insults would’ve turned the ears red of every hardened cop in a five-mile radius.
They started going through the phone to see who it belonged to, but I already knew, so I tuned that part out. Glancing up at Wyatt, I realized he’d connected the dots when I noticed his clenched teeth and hard jaw.
“It belongs to Detective Kosher,” one of them said.
“That puts him at the scene of this crime.”
With this, I thought angrily, they’d have to arrest him. Even with Wyatt dragging his feet, there’d be no way they could let Kosher be free without looking like corrupt fools. My mind was racing, trying to find some way out, some explanation.
I found one, and I glanced at Wyatt apologetically. With him here, I knew the perfect excuse that no one would question. It was sure to clear the area quickly as well.
Clearing my throat, everyone turned to look at me. “Detective Kosher must have left his phone here earlier. We had a meeting.”
“What kind of meeting?” One of the older cops asked, his eyes sharp.
I raised an eyebrow. “The kind you have off the beaten track while your husband is at work.”
A collective gasp went out, and everyone found another place to be. It was like the great migration. They sent Wyatt sympathetic glances and glared at me on their way out. I did a little finger wave.
The older cop had no more suspicion in his eyes, and he spoke only to Wyatt now. “We’ll run the fingerprints and go over the evidence. See if we can find anything.”
Then, he was gone.
Once they were all gone, Wyatt said, “Was that really necessary?”
“Just thought I’d save you the trouble of handcuffing your friend.” I pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Sorry.”
There was a humorous glint in his eye. “Sorry for cheating on me or sorry for telling all my co-workers you’re cheating on me?”
I shrugged. “Kosher’s attraction was just too great. Forgive my weakness.”
He laughed outright at that, and I knew I was forgiven. “Let’s get home. It’s past Cooper’s bedtime.”
Said kid was glancing back and forth between us, frowning. After a moment, he said, “I’m confused.”
Wyatt and I both took turns ruffling Cooper’s hair before explaining my deception to him. He nodded through that, seemingly deep in thought.
“So, we don’t want Kosher to be arrested?” he asked slowly.
Cooper often took my side with enemies, and therefore, didn’t have any fuzzy feelings for Kosher. It warmed my heart to see him hold grudges just like I did.
“It depends on the day,” I told him.
Wyatt frowned. “It depends on who’s innocent and guilty.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.”
On the way home, though, I couldn’t help but worry about how long my deception would last. The shock of it and the embarrassment for Wyatt had prompted everyone to take my words at face value and skedaddle out of there. But I didn’t think that would hold them back for long.
Sure, no one at the station had a high opinion of me, but cheating on Wyatt? Never in a million years. Sooner or later, one of those blockheads was going to remember that, and then they’d be knocking on Kosher’s door.
Then, I thought of the threatening note. Clearly, someone wanted to shut me up. That same person had probably planted Kosher’s cell phone, so they probably wanted him in jail. Or worse.
All signs pointed to the fact that I needed to solve this case. And fast.
****
The next day was the day of Chris’s funeral, but luckily, it wasn’t in the morning. I slept in, waking up with plenty of time to get ready and enjoy a little peace and quiet. In fact, since I had the time, I ran down to the coffee shop to pick up some gourmet tea.
That was a mistake.
I’d forgotten that the last time I’d gone to the coffee shop, I’d run into something unpleasant. And, as luck would have it, I ran into her again.
Shard, the tabloid reporter, was sitting at the counter sipping something expensive and frothy. Her clothes were stylish and meticulously pressed, everything about her screaming money and refinement. When she turned to me, her bright red smile was like the grin of a shark looking at its prey.
“Mrs. Bennett,” she said smoothly. “Just the woman I was hoping to talk to.”
My exit was blocked by hordes of people also wanting fancy coffee and scones, so I plopped down next to her, steeling myself against the onslaught about to begin.
She didn’t disappoint. Before my tea had even come, she was grilling me about every detail of the murder. From the lake monster to the gunshot, she didn’t miss a beat. I mostly just let her talk, seeing what she knew.
An interesting pattern emerged. She didn’t ask me a thing about Chris, though she let on that she knew that I knew him. Everything was about how he died, evidence, and people that I suspected.
Sure, the most interesting thing about Chris was the murder and partial digestion by a lake monster, but a reporter would want the whole story, even if she didn’t put it all in her piece.
It was almost like she already knew everything about Chris….
A blast of mint hit me in the face, the smell very familiar. It was the same scent I’d smelled when I’d gotten too close to Chris’s body.
My eyes widened. Shard was the woman Chris had talked to Sawyer about. They were sleeping together.
Even more interesting than that was what Shard said next.
“I’ve been following the lake monster for a couple weeks,” she said, “trying to patch together legend for a local color story. Is there anything you can add?”
“Sawyer calls her Sabrina.”
Chris, a man who had spent significant time on the lake, had to be one of her sources. I wondered what her editor would think of her sleeping with someone she was interviewing. And Chris wasn’t exactly the type to keep quiet for long. It would’ve come out.
I left the coffee house feeling that I got a lot more out of our chat than Shard did. After a glance back at her stony face, I figured she felt the exact same way.
Once in the car, I realized I no longer had any time to waste. I raced through Waresville and back to the house, pushing my luck at quite a few red lights.
When I stepped through the door, Wyatt was already in his suit and shaking his head at me. It was remarkable how the disapproving look had the same effect on Cooper as it did on me.
“I know, I know, I know,” I said as I rushed up the stairs.
While I was low on nice clothes, everyone in Waresville had at least one funeral outfit. Most have a range of choices based on the kind of death: everything from murder to unfortunate sex accident.
I slipped on my black dress, which was conservative for me. The high-heeled shoes I wore with it made me look like less of an old maid, but they did almost trip me on the way back down the stairs.
When I would’ve charged through the front door, Wyatt held me back
. His warm, calloused hands brushed against the side of my head as he fixed my hair, sending shivers down my spine.
I reminded my body that this was not the time, and we were off. From the driveway, I yelled instructions to Cooper about cleaning the kitchen and taking Biscuit for a walk. He rolled his eyes as only teenagers can and told me he’d done both a hundred times.
“Your son is being sassy,” I said to Wyatt as he pulled out of the drive.
Wyatt shot me a look. “I wonder where he picked that up.”
There were a few churches in Waresville, but the nicest one had burned down just before Wyatt and I got married. So, instead of heading deeper into town, we went just outside to the second nicest church in Waresville.
Which wasn’t saying much.
The building was in desperate need of a paint job, the current one peeling and fading right before our eyes. There was no paved parking lot, and the cross on top of the church leaned a little to the side. The latter seemed a little blasphemous to me.
When we pulled up to the church, there was tension in the air. I knew as soon as my heel hit the pavement that something was upsetting the town’s people.
Though he’d been new to Waresville, the town had shown up in bulk because of Chris’s interesting death. Inside the church, hordes of people were whispering and shooting glances towards the front of the church where Kosher was sitting.
“I’m guessing public opinion has not been on Peter’s side,” I whispered to Wyatt.
He shrugged, though his face was drawn in unhappy lines. “It doesn’t matter what they think. Justice is the only thing that has any bearing in this case.”
Because I was such a good wife, I didn’t call BS on something we both knew he didn’t believe. Wyatt may have wished the world was like that, but he wasn’t completely the Boy Scout he seemed. Public opinion could be everything in a case like this, with the evidence so thin and no other real suspects.
Not for the police, anyway. I had a few people in mind, myself.
Wyatt and I slipped into an uncomfortable pew in the front row, scooting down to sit by Vic and Kosher. Beside her, Hope was crying silent tears, but my best friend’s eyes were dry. She did, however, have a death grip on Kosher’s arm.
