“I’m sorry. For the past few hours I promised myself I wouldn’t cry and now here I am.” Reg spat out the last few words in disgust. “Tearing up just like a baby.”
“They don’t put babies through interrogations,” Willow said. “So, I think it’s more you’re crying like a very harassed man.”
She got him into the car, then stopped, unsure of where it was best to take him. “Are you going out spotting tonight?”
Reg shook his head sadly. “All I want is to go home, get into bed, and never come out again.”
Willow patted the back of his hand and promptly drove him home. When she offered to come in and sit with Reg for a while, he declined.
“I’m sorry to put you to all this trouble just to get me home and not even reward you with a cup of tea but I just can’t. I don’t want to be near anybody for a while.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Willow assured him. “You’ve been there for me plenty of times when I’ve needed it. Go on and get some rest. We can catch up later in the week when you’re feeling more yourself.”
Reg nodded sadly as though being himself was an achievement far out of his grasp.
Harmony practically busted through Willow’s front door with her knocking the next morning. Willow had to fling on a robe and fly downstairs, scared that her neighbor Phillip would have yet another noise complaint to add to her tally.
“What’s the matter?”
Harmony came staggering through into the entrance hall, gasping for breath as though she’d just been running. Willow stood and stared at her for a moment, then dived for the phone, sure her friend must be having a heart attack.
“Just give me a second,” Harmony managed, grabbing the receiver out of Willow’s hand.
Mavis wound a concerned figure eight around Willow’s ankles, and she bent down to pick the kitten up, cradling her against her cheek.
As soon as Harmony recovered from her exertion, she burst into tears. Still none the wiser for what had happened to her friend, Willow fetched her a box of tissues and sat down on the sofa to wait.
“It’s Reg,” Harmony finally managed. “I went into the sheriff’s office early this morning before Jacob could get in there and stir everybody up. I caught Mary-Jo and asked her why the hell he’d grilled Reg non-stop for most of yesterday.”
Her breath got away from her again, and Willow frowned while Harmony gasped. “Wasn’t it just because of the fight? I have to say, I’m sorry I told the sheriff anything, considering his behavior.”
But Harmony was shaking her head. “It’s not the fight that worried them. That’s just the reason they brought Reg in for questioning in the first place.” She took another second, blowing her nose on a tissue and using another to dab at her eyes. “Reg lied to them.”
“What?” Willow sat bolt upright, shock running through her spine like she’d been struck with a cattle prod. “What about? Why on Earth would he do that?”
“One at a time, please,” Harmony gasped. “I did just run all the way here.”
Willow eyed her friend. “Hm. No need to ask if you took advantage of the gym membership offer I sent you.”
Harmony threw a tissue at her face and Willow was relieved to see it was an unused one. “You can talk. I’m surprised you even know what a gym is.”
The two women burst into a spate of giggles, relieving some of their tension, though Willow still felt as wired as a coat hanger. “What does Reg even do that he’d need to lie about something?” she mused. “It’s not as though him going out spotting at night is a secret.”
“According to Mary-Jo, Reg told the police he didn’t go out the night before last at all.”
Willow nodded. “That sounds about right. He said he was probably headed straight home after visiting you in the library.”
Harmony looked taken aback. “What’s that?”
“The day before yesterday.” Willow frowned as her friend continued to look nonplussed. “I took him out for brunch after he had a fight with the builder.” She shrugged. “He couldn’t stay here, after that, and I wanted to keep him talking since it was the anniversary.”
Harmony nodded. She didn’t need to be told which anniversary it was. “He never showed up, and I was there pretty much all day.”
“I wonder where he got to, then.” Willow let Mavis down onto the sofa next to her, whereupon the kitten promptly decided it would be more fun to chase the dust motes around the room. “He really didn’t seem in the mood to do anything much at all.”
“Well, whatever he was doing during the day, it’s certain that at night he was sitting down by the river.”
Willow’s eyes narrowed. “Who did you hear that from? If Reg says he was at home, why would he lie?”
“I don’t know,” Harmony said, frustration obvious in her voice. “Because he knew the police would find it suspicious he was down by the place a dead body was found?” Harmony started to tremble, tears welling up in her eyes again. “I feel awful just considering it, but I can’t understand why else he would tell the sheriff a fib.”
“Well, we only have Mary-Jo’s word for it that he did.” Willow stood up and began to pace the room. “How do we know for certain he was anywhere near the river?”
“Eye-witnesses,” Harmony said, her voice soft.
Willow scoffed. “You hear about eye-witnesses getting stuff wrong all the time! They see things that aren’t there and completely miss things that are. It’s a proven fact.”
Harmony grabbed hold of Willow’s hand, pulling her back down to sit beside her. “I saw him.” She swallowed hard, sniffing back tears. “I wish I didn’t go out that night at all, now, but I definitely saw him sitting on the pier down by the river. That’s only a bend away from where the body was found. And when asked by the sheriff, he denied being there at all.”
Willow stared at her friend, wanting to deny such a thing was possible, but all her reasons for why it couldn’t be correct died on her lips, unsaid.
Was it possible? Could Reg have had something to do with the murder?
After going around in circles for another hour, Harmony left the house, no doubt headed for the sanctuary of the town library. Willow didn’t blame her. Ever since the treacherous thought had entered her head, she’d gone after Harmony’s statement like a dog with a bone.
Alone in the silence of her house again, Willow stroked Mavis and stared blankly out the window. It didn’t make sense to her why Reg had lied, though she knew full well why he’d be sitting down on that pier.
For the few weeks after her husband Molly had died, Willow had gone through the perfunctory motions of living while her thoughts spiraled further and further out of control. When the doctor paid a surprise home visit to check on her welfare, she’d been cajoled into joining a support group for people who’d lost spouses. Against her better judgment, she’d walked to the community center building next to the church to attend.
It had taken all of Willow’s courage just to walk through the door. If a sign hadn’t been out, plainly welcoming new members, she mightn’t have gone inside at all. As it was, she said nothing at all the first session. The energy of being out in public, having to act like a fully functional adult human, had sapped all of Willow’s strength.
At the second meeting, Willow had made up her mind the weekly visits were too hard. She decided she would leave after the group disbanded for the night, and never return again.
The people there weren’t anything like her. They’d lost people they loved, people they treasured. They weren’t sitting there hiding the fact their chief emotion was relief.
Reg had walked up to her as she stood from the chair and offered her a cup of tea and a biscuit. The refreshments were laid out on a table—anyone could help themselves—but he made an effort to come over and insist she have something before heading out for the night.
That one act of kindness made Willow feel so much better, she decided to give the group one more week. After all, it wasn’t like
she was locked into a long-term plan. Willow could leave any time she wanted to.
That next session, Reg had waited for her out front and insisted she take the seat next to his. While the group talked, brave people taking center stage to share stories, others just chatting about nothing much, Reg won her over with his sly sense of humor.
The man had a knack for making fun of people, including himself, without tearing them down or belittling them. By the end of that evening, Willow had more fun than she had in the thirty odd years of her marriage. She’d turned up week after week, grateful for his company. After a few months, Willow realized for the first time since high school, she’d managed to make a new friend.
On the anniversary of his wife’s death, Reg had stood up in the group, taking center stage for the only time that Willow had known him. He talked at length about how wonderful his wife had been, how much he missed her. He sat back down when he dissolved into tears.
After group, when it was just the two of them sharing a late dessert, Reg told Willow about how, on her last night alive, he’d waited for his wife on the pier. It was their meeting spot whenever they had to get together in town. His wife loved the rush of water and enjoyed sitting down, letting her legs dangle over the edge.
Even when he knew something must have gone terribly wrong, Reg stayed at the same waiting spot. Hours passed. Each minute, a more terrible scenario for what might have happened turned up in his head.
Then the sheriff—the old town sheriff, not young Jacob, as Reg called him—found him sitting there and told him his wife was dead.
A car accident claimed her life. Not anybody’s fault, just a slick of oil on a corner, a single vehicle accident that happened by the one concrete post for a mile on either side.
Whenever Reg missed his wife—and in the early days that was often—he’d walk down to the pier, dangling his legs over the edge, and wait.
Nowadays, he didn’t go there nearly so much. Just on occasions when he was distraught. Willow bit her thumbnail and stared out the window as she considered what terrible event might have brought about that emotional state on the night in question.
Chapter Eight
Feeling out of sorts, Willow headed into town. She needed to do a bit of grocery shopping anyway and staring at her own four walls was driving her mad. Almost as soon as she walked into the square, she bumped into Trisha Layton and they fan-girled over Miss Walsham Investigates’ impending visit once again.
Once her meager shopping requirements were fulfilled, Willow unpacked the goods in her kitchen, the rest of the day stretching out in front of her like a bleak highway. On a whim, she pulled the phone book out of the cupboard and ran her finger down the list of names until she found the right one.
There’d been a lot of idle talk about Shelby Causer and how she’d been hard done by Jeff Waterman’s builders. Rather than speculate, it was time Willow visited and found out about the woman for herself.
The first thought that went through Willow’s mind when Shelby answered the door was she looked incredibly young. Not like Lee—that boy really was just a year over being a child—but only in her twenties, if that. The next thought was she appeared far too tired for her age. When Willow stepped inside, she kept a close eye on Shelby in case of imminent collapse.
“I’d heard you had a bit of trouble with a builder that I hired,” Willow said by way of introduction. “I kept on putting off coming down here and finding out the details, but I suppose I can’t put it off any longer.”
Shelby gave Willow a curious glance, sizing her up with a scan from head to toe. “You’re Willow Foxglove, right? What on Earth did Jeff do to you?”
Willow nodded yes to the first question, then chewed her lip as she pondered a response to the second. “Nothing bad, so far,” she said after a pause. “The renovations look fine to me, but I’ve been warned to have a professional check them over. I heard Jeff liked to cut corners more than necessary.”
At that, Shelby gave a snort of laughter, devoid of amusement. “You can say that again. The man didn’t have any scruples at all!”
“Do you mind explaining what happened? I know I’m a stranger—”
Shelby held up a hand, cutting Willow off. “I’m fine telling anybody who’ll listen. There’s few enough will do that. I found out first hand that it’s only when you’re down and out that you find out who your friends are. Turns out, I don’t have nearly so many as I thought.”
“I’m sorry,” Willow said, sending a prayer of gratitude to the heavens for her own blessings in that department. Then she recalled how her earlier thoughts had been a complete betrayal of her friendship with Reg and blushed.
Really, she should know better than even to suspect his motives. To tell a lie to the sheriff was terrible but Willow should trust that Reg had his reasons.
“Here you go,” Shelby said, walking through the lounge and opening a door. “This is the start of my grand plan for an extension.”
Willow poked her head through with caution, deciding not to step into the room. The floor rotted away halfway across, and it looked like someone had fallen right down into the floorboards.
“What happened?” Willow asked with a gasp.
“The timber Jeff chose for the job hadn’t been seasoned correctly or sealed. On the bright side, he pocketed the difference between what I paid for materials and what he spent on that rubbish.”
Willow shook her head, taking another quick glance through the open doorway and shuddering. There were holes punched in the walls and tarpaulins hung over what was left of the roof to protect the inside from the weather.
“I’m just waiting for the town council to condemn this as a safety hazard,” Shelby said with a sniff. “It’s only because I knew some people on the board that they’ve held off this long. They know I wouldn’t ever let someone walk into the part of the house that’s dangerous, but it can’t be held off forever.”
“Can’t the door just be bricked up? Pretend the extension doesn’t exist?”
Shelby shook her head sadly. “It doesn’t work like that. I’ll either need to get that room up to code, or the site is condemned, and I might lose the whole house. I could barely afford to pay for the renovation as it was.”
Reaching out, Willow closed the door and took hold of Shelby’s arm to escort the woman back through to a nicer part of the home.
As they walked, Shelby held a protective hand in front of her belly and Willow began to guess at the reason she might have wanted the extra room.
“Were you expecting a child?”
Shelby nodded, a tear rolling down the side of her nose. “I was. Not anymore.” She sniffed hard, wiping a finger across her philtrum. “The extension was going to be a playroom and a nursery. I wouldn’t put a dead dog in that space, let alone a child.”
“Surely the bank would lend—”
“I mortgaged the house up to the hilt to pay for the new rooms.” Shelby pulled at a lock of hair just above her ears. Judging by the thinness, it was a habit she performed often. “Now, if I want to fix it, I have shell out for someone to come in and properly remove all the bad wood as well as build the new rooms. That swindler took all the bricks from the side of my original wall, saying he’d replace them when he finished the job. But then the building was never finished and he didn’t bring them back.”
Shelby turned and gave an angry look at the door that connected to a horror-show.
“I hope he’s keeping warm there, down in hell!”
Willow felt awful leaving the woman in her state, but Shelby grew more worked up the longer she stayed. As she drove away from the house, Willow wondered what the poor woman would do. Now Jeff was dead, she mightn’t even be able to sue the company. Her hope of redress could have died along with him.
Jeff Waterman had left such a trail of destruction in his wake Willow wondered briefly if he’d staged his death to look like murder just to continue the turmoil. She shook her head in horror after a second. These days, her t
houghts went far too quickly to the dark side. The man might have been annoying or even cruel in life, but in death, he still needed to be afforded the dignity of finding his killer.
A pity then Jeff had riled up so many people that narrowing them down would take a good chunk of time.
“What you need is a project,” Willow announced, propping a whiteboard in front of a bemused Reg. “The school still hasn’t raised the money necessary to fund its art department repairs. If you want to take your mind off everything else, I suggest you start figuring out how to remedy that.”
Willow handed across a set of markers and sat down. Harmony, her co-conspirator, was in Reg’s kitchen, putting together a light snack.
“How am I meant to raise money? You know I don’t like talking to people much. To ask them for money’s even worse.”
“Then don’t request money from them,” Willow said. “You’re a bright guy. Figure out what the townspeople might want to pay for and do that instead. Harmony and I can spread the word. Put your thinking cap on.”
Reg shook his head, still looking like he was waiting for the pleasant part of the surprise. “I’m not really cut out for this.”
“Wait for it,” Harmony said, bringing a tray of mismatched items from the kitchen. Pickles nestled up against sultanas, while cheese fought for a position next to tomato paste. Willow closed her eyes and reached out her hand, happening upon some olives. She paired them up with a few crackers and started to fire them into her mouth.
“If you’re not ready for something entry level like this, then your mind is going to be blown by the next bit!”
“What’s that?” Reg peered suspiciously at the two women.
“We also want to start a fundraiser to repair Shelby Causer’s house. It was left in a dreadful state by Jeff’s company, and I don’t think it’s fair she finances the remedial work all by herself.”
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