by Morgana Best
“We shouldn’t split up,” Ruprecht said, shaking his head. “It could be too dangerous.”
I thought for a moment. There were four of us, and we had four suspects who needed tailing. We could split into two groups of two. Aloud I said, “Yet what exactly were we supposed to catch someone doing? Sure, Brant was murdered, but did that mean his murderer would still be doing something illicit? Certainly not. It’s probable that they won’t be. They’ve achieved what they planned to do. Brant is dead. What else is there to do now? Whoever killed him has already done it. They’re probably just living their normal life now.”
Ruprecht rubbed his chin. “Yes, that makes sense. I suppose, if we’re careful, we can each watch someone different. We can get started right away, and not have to worry about missing anything tonight.”
No one argued with him.
“So how do we decide who takes whom?” I asked.
“You take Melanie,” Ruprecht suggested. “You found her out, so it seems right.”
I nodded. And then over the course of a quick five minutes, the others decided who they would follow. It was only half an hour until closing time, and I gave the go ahead to close up early. We had something to do, and we were all eager to get to it, if a little nervous.
Chapter 19
I turned onto the street where Melanie lived and quickly pulled over to the curb. The woman who would have married Brant lived on the edge of town, on a lonely street named Agrimony Lane. There were four houses here, two on the other side, spaced well apart before the street ended in a cul de sac. Melanie’s house was the second on the left, situated just as the road bulged out into the turnaround.
The home was two stories tall, and gray. It was imposing looking, almost like something you would see in a horror film. The paint was peeling; the porch was wood and falling apart. There were no other cars parked on the street, apart from my car and another parked in the long driveway. I was worried that I stood out like a sore thumb, but there was nothing I could do.
I had planned to park and creep to the house on foot after I got there, but it was still light, and I was sure that could only end badly. But still, I had to do something. I thought that maybe I could walk around the block and head to the house from the back. That was better than nothing, so I turned off the engine and climbed quickly out of my car. As I was heading back to the street corner along the cracked and crumbling sidewalk, my phone buzzed in my jeans pocket. I pulled it out to see Thyme was calling me.
“I’m at Bill Gafney’s place,” she said in a hushed tone over the line. We still hadn’t been able to find out what Brant McCallum had on Bill Gafney and his run to be elected, but it must have been big.
“Is he there?” I asked, as I walked and turned the corner onto Rue Street, the one that ran perpendicular to Agrimony Lane.
“No, but someone’s watching TV in his living room. A woman. She has big hair, but I can’t see much else, because the chair she’s sitting in is pointing away from the window.”
“Is it his wife?” I asked. Bill was married to a prim and proper woman named Charlotte, who was a few years his junior.
“No, I got word she’s out of town. She teaches Bible study at the church, and she and a few others took the kids on a trip for a week.”
“Girlfriend?” I asked.
“Maybe,” Thyme said.
“Well, be careful,” I cautioned her, lowering my voice to a whisper as I approached the house that sat behind Melanie’s.
“You too,” Thyme said, and the line went dead.
I crept through the side yard of a brown house which was both smaller than Melanie’s and in better repair. The lawn was trim and there was a small flower bed running along the side of the house.
It wasn’t dark yet, but it was heading that way. I left the brown house behind and cut across to the backyard of the large gray one. There were enough shadows to provide cover for me, but that didn’t stop my heart from racing out of control. My palms were sweaty and I rubbed them on my sleeves.
A light was on in the gray house, on the ground floor. I peered through the window into the kitchen. There was a refrigerator against the wall, and stone countertops alongside it. Melanie didn’t appear to be in the kitchen, but I was too nervous to look straight in. I moved alongside the house and peered in through the window from the side. Now I could see more of the kitchen, including the stove. It was an older model gas stove, and it didn’t look like it was used much. I wondered if Melanie was a vegan. I bet the woman ate a lot of salads. I couldn’t see Brant eating a lot of salads. The marriage was probably doomed from the start, but was even more so if Melanie had killed her husband to be.
And then the woman herself appeared, coming in through a swinging door much like the one in the cake store that separated the kitchen from a dark hall. Melanie Simpson was tall and young, with long blonde hair. She was wearing running shorts with a baggy pink tee shirt. She looked as though she might be going running, but first she opened the fridge.
I was interested to see what the woman took from the fridge, but then I heard a voice and my blood ran cold. I turned to see a small child standing next to me.
“What are you doing?” the kid asked again.
“Uh,” I said, not sure of what to say. The child looked to be about seven. He was wearing a dirty shirt and shorts, with small gym shoes on his feet. He looked like he had spent a good and eventful day outside. I wondered if he lived in the brown house.
“Are you a bad guy?” he asked.
“What?”
“A burger,” the boy said. “Isn’t that what they’re called?”
I was confused for a moment, but then it dawned on me. “Oh, a burglar. No, I’m not a burglar, or a bad guy.”
I was worried Melanie would hear us and come to investigate, so I moved away from her house as quietly as I could, with the child following me.
“So what are you doing?” the boy asked once more.
“I’m playing hide and seek. I don’t want to be found,” I said in a flash of brilliance.
“Oh!” the boy said, nodding. “Can I play?”
“Sure, is that your house?” I asked, pointing across the two back yards to the brown house.
“Yes, my mom and I live there.”
“Okay, go hide in your yard. I’ll tell my friend someone new is playing when she finds me.”
“Okay!” the boy said, and he turned and ran for the house.
I felt bad for disappointing the kid, but when I turned to look into the window again, the kitchen was empty. It was also now dark. I was thinking about moving around to the front when I heard a car start from that direction. “Shoot!” I said somewhat too loudly. I hurried around to the front of the house, just in time to see Melanie’s blonde head in her car as it zoomed down the street. I watched the woman turn left.
“Shoot, shoot, shoot!” I said to no one in particular as I threw myself into my car and started the engine. I backed all the way out into the street, and hurried off in Melanie’s direction.
Melanie’s car was blue, and I was pretty sure I saw it up ahead, with two cars in between us. I fell into a relaxed pace as I followed her. Melanie turned this way and that, and soon there were no cars between us to keep me hidden, so I fell back a distance.
Melanie headed out of town for the countryside, and after fifteen minutes of driving pulled into a small gravel parking area at the foot of a couple of walking trails. She parked and got out, and hurried down one trail.
I considered what I could do, but I had to go for it. I parked as well and then got out, making a show of stretching my legs before I hurried down the same walking trail that Melanie had gone down.
I tried to stay back, but if the other woman were to turn around, there was nowhere for me to hide. Well, there were plenty of places to hide, but I figured it would be weird if I dived behind a tree. Luckily for me, Melanie didn’t turn around. She kept her head down as she walked, and I could see the bluish glow of a cell phone screen
in front of her. Was she texting? Was she meeting someone out here in the bushland? Maybe for payment? Payment for a murder? My head spun as more and more possibilities filled it.
Suddenly Melanie stopped and bent down. I paused, moving off the trail and actually sliding behind a large old gum tree. I felt like an idiot, but it was the only plan I had. I peeked around the tree and saw Melanie digging in the dirt, next to the trail. I hadn’t noticed the small trowel the woman had brought with her, but I could see it plainly now.
Melanie dug up a small box and opened it. She pulled something out of it and slid it into her pocket. Then she put something else in it, reburied the box, and turned toward me.
I ducked back behind the tree. I was pretty sure that Melanie hadn’t seen me, and she walked back toward the parking lot. I let her go and then went to the spot where she had reburied the box. The earth there was soft and I could pull it up easily, and soon I had a small metal box held in one hand. I opened the lid with the other.
Inside the box was a small piece of paper. ‘Too late,’ it read, in slanting scrawl.
What did it mean? I had no idea. I was frustrated. Too late? Who was too late? It dawned on me that Melanie might have known she was being followed after all, and the note was meant for me. No, surely if the woman knew I was there, she would have said something.
I had nothing left to do but bury the box as fast as I could and hurry back to the parking lot. I did so, and once again arrived in time to see Melanie driving away. I had no way of knowing if she was going home, so I decided I needed to follow her once more.
Melanie’s car turned onto the road in the opposite direction to town. As I waited to follow her at a safe distance, my phone rang. It was Thyme.
“It’s him!” she yelled, before I could answer. “He’s the woman!”
“What?” I asked, as I slowly pulled onto the road.
“Bill Gafney is the woman. He got up to get a snack. It’s him, in a wig and a dress! He’s wearing stockings and heels! It’s him!”
I burst out laughing. “Poor guy. Well, we now know what Brant had on him,” I said after I caught my breath.
“Yeah. It’s a doozy. I’m going to keep watching him. You know, he looked better in that dress than I would have, seriously.”
I laughed.
“How are things on your end?” Thyme asked.
“Strange. I’ll fill you in tonight,” I said, and then I ran out of cell service. Melanie was pulling into another parking lot, at the head of another trail.
I followed her once more, and once more she dug up a box. I checked it out after she was gone, and this time there was a pencil inside. I couldn’t figure out what any of it meant. This was getting weirder and weirder. Yet again I followed her at a distance. She walked down the trail with her cell phone out, and she dug up another box. I decided to go for broke. As the woman was opening the box, I walked up to her. I figured she didn’t know who I was.
“Hi, what do you have there?” I asked, trying to be as nonchalant as I could.
“Oh, it’s a couple things,” the woman said, rising and turning. “You geocaching too?”
“Geocaching?”
“Yeah, I figured you got here like I did.”
“No, I don’t know what that is,” I admitted. “I’m, um, out collecting eucalyptus leaves for my garden.” I silently berated myself. What a stupid thing to say! I wasn’t even holding a bag to collect my supposed leaves.
“Oh, yes, they make good mulch,” Melanie said.
Who knew!
She kept speaking. “Someone buries something, and then they post the location, in coordinates, on a website. You have to use GPS to find it. The first one gets what’s inside. This one has a couple bucks and some old buttons from the thirties. Pretty cool stuff.”
“I’ve never heard of any of that in my life,” I said.
Melanie laughed. “I got into it a little while ago. I love it. I…” she paused then, and even in the falling light, with the sun so well blocked by the tall trees around us, I could see the woman’s eyes shining with tears. “I had a friend who did it with me. Well, he was more than a friend.” She sniffled. “He died, and I just, well, I thought that he would always be with me, but he isn’t.”
I smiled and nodded. “He is,” I said. “If you feel him, he’s here.” I hoped that was the right thing to say.
“He showed me about this. No one knew he did it, but he loved coming out and finding treasure. He said it made him feel like a kid again, playing pirates in the back yard. It’s kind of like that, digging something up.”
“It seems like fun,” I said, trying to be comforting.
“I should get going,” Melanie said. “Don’t get lost out here.”
“Yeah, I’m going to go a bit further and then head back,” I said.
“Here,” Melanie said, holding out a button. “Take this. Your first treasure.”
I reached out and took the button slowly. “Thank you.” It was made of tin and had a sharp spike on the back. It indeed looked like it was old.
Melanie nodded, and then turned around and headed for the road. I watched her go, and then started walking after her. I had wasted so much of my day, following a woman I was now convinced hadn’t done anything. As I drove home, I thought of the tears in the poor woman’s eyes.
Chapter 20
It wasn’t quite closing time, but Thyme and I both thought that no one would be coming in at this hour. Besides, it was only cranky customers who came in right at closing time. At the moment, there weren’t many customers, cranky or otherwise, what with all the rumors that cake from my store had killed Brant McCallum.
And this all led to my first lesson in witchcraft, in the store’s back room. I kept throwing nervous glances over my shoulder, as if someone would sneak up on us and ask us what we were doing. But no one was there, and no one was coming, so I turned back around to face Thyme and concentrate on the task at hand.
Thyme was holding a wooden box, as big a shoe box perhaps, with a hinged lid. She sat on the floor of the back room and motioned for me to do the same. I sat across from her, folding my legs beneath me. Thyme put the box in her lap and flipped open the lid. She pulled out a yellow candle first, thick and waxy looking, and set it on the floor. The next thing she extracted was a small plastic baggie with green herbs inside it. She set the box to the side and prepared the area between us.
The herbs were placed on the ground in a particular pattern, and then the candle was placed upon them, though the long stemmed herbs poked out from beneath the candle. “This can help us find out what killed Brant,” Thyme said, and although I wasn’t quite sure how some herbs and a candle were going to help, I thought it best not to say that, so I just nodded.
Before Thyme could go further with the spell, the front door to the cake store chimed as it was opened. I had been wrong. Someone had come in right before closing time.
“I’ll get it,” I said, standing quickly. I went through the swinging door out into the shop and froze. There were two police officers standing just inside the shop, the man and the woman who had come when Brant had died.
“Hello,” Constable Stevens said as she pulled off her hat. The male cop left his on.
“Hi,” I said, stopping at the counter. “Can I help you with anything?”
“As much as I’d love a cupcake, I better watch my diet,” the woman cop said with her trademark wide, and I suspected, fake smile. The male cop, Sergeant Greer, seemed content to hang back and let his partner do the work, wherever the work was today.
Constable Stevens held something in her hand, a manila envelope like one would find in any number of office buildings across the world, and she opened it as she moved to the counter. She pulled a single sheet from the envelope and stared at it. “Mind if I ask you a few questions?” she said after a moment.
“No,” I said. I was quite nervous.
“Do you guys use any old rat poison around here?” Reed asked.
I shook
my head. “Is that what killed Brant McCallum? Rat poison? So you don’t think it was natural causes anymore?”
The female cop smiled as Sergeant Greer busied himself back by the door, gazing out of the window there as if he were on a stake out, although I was reasonably sure he had an ear attuned to the conversation at the counter.
“I’m sorry. It’s all strictly confidential. I’m sure you understand,” she said.
“Sure,” I said, and behind me the door to the back room swung open and Thyme came out.
“What’s going on?” she said.
“Just a few questions,” Constable Stevens said again. “I was asking Ms. Spelled if you ever used rat poison here, particularly any older brands. Maybe you would know if you guys ever used it?”
“No, never,” Thyme said, shaking her head. “We love animals here, even the so-called pests. We had a mouse problem a couple years ago, but we used traps that didn’t harm the animals. We baited them with peanut butter and then let them go down by the creek.”
Stevens nodded. “I see. Well, would you guys mind if we looked around?”
I knew that the cops couldn’t look if I didn’t allow them too, but I figured that would make them annoyed as well as suspicious, so I nodded. “Sure, go for it.” I hoped Thyme had cleared anyway all evidence of the spell.
“Great,” Stevens said with her irritating smile. She turned toward Sergeant Greer, who came striding forward. They didn’t spend any time out on the shop itself, but they went straight to the back room. I was relieved beyond measure that Thyme had cleared up the candle and herbs. The box remained out, sitting on a nearby counter, and Stevens flicked it open with a fingertip and looked inside it, although she was apparently uninterested in the contents and closed it quickly.
“When did you say you had a problem with mice?” Stevens asked.
“A couple of years ago,” Thyme said. “When we had that really rainy spring. The creek rose, and it sent the mice from the bushland all over town.”
“I remember the rain,” Stevens said, nodding. Her partner still hadn’t spoken. The two cops moved around the back room without another word, peering in boxes, lifting them up. Finally, they seemed satisfied and they went back out into the show room.
