Plotted For Murder

by ACF Bookens

  When we pulled up, the patrol car was still out front, and the officer was standing beside his door. He looked calm, and I felt my shoulders relax a bit. I burst out of the car as soon as Dad stopped and ran toward Tuck was had parked just beside his deputy with his car blocking the street. “Everything’s okay, then?” I shouted as I ran up.

  The deputy looked from Tuck to me and back. “No problems here. I heard your radio dispatch, though. You think he’s coming here?”

  Tuck nodded. “Help me get everyone set up as they arrive,” he told the deputy, who nodded and stepped around Tuck’s car as the first of the additional officers arrived.

  “Can I go in? I still haven’t heard from Mart,” I asked, my voice a bit squeaky with fear.

  “Let me go first,” Tuck said and put his hand on his gun at his hip.

  I followed right behind him, too eager to be sure my friends were okay to actually be cautious myself. I could hear footsteps behind me and saw Daniel then Dad and finally my mom lined up like we were queuing for ice cream at the local Dairy Freeze. I had to suppress a giggle as I imagined us as a breach team from one of those Navy SEAL TV shows. Tuck was the leader, and Daniel was the muscle. Dad was the language expert, and Mom was the sharp shooter. I wasn’t sure exactly what that made me, but if Mart was in trouble, I’d be whatever I needed to be to keep her safe. I wished I’d thought to grab something from Dad’s car to use as a weapon, but I wasn’t sure how effective a travel umbrella might be in a fight.

  Tuck led us around the back of the house, which maybe should have tipped me off to his concerns. At the time, though, I was just so eager to check on Mart that I didn’t even think about it. He kept his head down below the windows and gestured for us to do the same. That tiny motion of his hand woke me up to what was happening, and I realized we were the breach team. Panic started to climb my skin.

  Part of my brain was trying to work out why Tuck would let us do something like this. I knew it probably wasn’t wise to let four civilians storm the castle, so to speak, but I’d long ago learned that Tuck knew what he was doing. And if he thought it was better for us to go in than his armed and trained deputies, I had to trust him.

  At that moment, we climbed the small back stoop, and Tuck gestured me forward. He put his lips right to my ear and said, “I want you to go in like everything is completely fine. Try to smile if you can.” Then he reached down and ripped a handful of mum stems off the potted plant Tiffany had by her back door. “Take these.”

  I stared at the flowers for a minute and then nodded. I knocked quickly and then went on in, like it was a normal day when an enraged man was holding my friends hostage. For a split second when the door opened, I did think everything was fine, and I smiled. “I brought you flowers,” I said to Tiffany, who was seated in the club chair closest to the TV.

  That’s when I noticed the terror in her eyes.

  14

  I hoped my smile hadn’t faltered too much as I relifted the corners of my mouth while also trying to telepathically communicate to Tiffany then to Mart that help was behind me. Mart darted her eyes quickly to the corner of the room that I couldn’t yet see. So Scott was there. I let out a long slow breath, hoping he couldn’t see me either, and turned back into the kitchen.

  “I brought you some flowers from Elle,” I stressed Elle’s name a bit. Maybe Mart would pick up on the fact that our friends were here. “I’ll just put them in water.” I walked the few feet to the the sink and reached for the cabinet above the sink. I took two glasses out of the cabinet and turned the water on to fill one glass while I set the other in the window sill and shaped my fingers like a gun against the glass as I did. I could only hope Tuck saw and was preparing. Then, I spun back toward the living room, took a deep breath, and walked in with the glass full of flowers.

  I tried to keep my eyes trained on Tiffany as she sat in the club chair, like I was just bringing her flowers. Then, I turned my back – bracing myself – toward the corner where I thought Scott was hiding as I spoke to Mart. “You would not believe how busy we were today.” I leaned in and gave her hug as I whispered against her ear. “Help is here.”

  Then I turned to hug Henri next to her, shake Bear’s hand a bit further around the room toward Scott, and finally to Pickle, who was by the front door, just far enough away from the corner that I could still, I hoped, feign that I didn’t know Scott was there. I took yet another deep breath and dropped onto the couch between Mart and Henri, and only then did I look up and throw on my most surprised face when I saw Scott in the corner, a pistol aimed at Tiffany’s head.

  I let out the most pitiful squeak in the history of performances as Scott looked at me and said, “Hello Harvey.”

  “Um, what are you doing?” I said, acting like the dumb woman Scott apparently thought all of us were.

  He glowered at me. “You thought I wouldn’t find her.”

  At this point, I could only hope that I’d bought Tuck enough time to prepare because I was done pretending. “I’m not that dumb, Scott. St. Marin’s is a small place. I figured it was only a matter of time.” I stretched my arms over my head in my best semblance of nonchalance. “You thought I’d come here alone.”

  Just then, both the front and the back doors flew open, and I hit the floor. I couldn’t lift my head to look around, but in the direction I’d landed, I could see that Henri, Bear and Pickle had followed my lead.

  A shot rang out across the room, and I heard a thud. I squeezed my eyes shut, not ready to see who had been hit. That’s when I got kicked in the face.

  When I came to a few minutes later, my mom was standing over me and saying, “We’re going to have to take her to see that concussion doctor. You know, the one Will Smith played in that movie.”

  I blinked my eyes, and someone whipped a flashlight past my eyes. “She’s awake,” a woman said, and I squinted just enough to make out one of the EMTs from Saturday night checking the pulse in my right arm.

  “Harvey!” Mom lunged forward to hug me, but the EMT threw up an arm and stopped the attack.

  “Maybe give her a moment,” the woman said. “She did just take a steel-toed boot to the temple.”

  I groaned. “Is that what it was? That jerk kicked me?”

  “Actually, no, this jerk did.” Tuck was standing at my feet and looking at me as I lay in a gurney on an ambulance. “I’m sorry, Harvey. He caught me off guard when he thrashed, and I lost my footing.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “So this is the thanks I get for staying out of your investigation and then leading the charge into the battle zone.”

  The sheriff rolled his eyes. “You weren’t infiltrating a terrorist stronghold in Kabul, Harvey.” He squeezed my foot. “But thank you. Your signal with the gun and the glass was just the information we needed.”

  I smiled. “I wasn’t sure you’d get it. But I had to act fast.”

  “It made perfect sense. The gun, of course, but also the glass – the situation was fragile. Well-done.” Tuck patted my ankle. “I’ll need your statement later, but first, let’s be sure you’re okay.”

  Mom looked at Dad and said, “See? All those years of charades paid off.”

  It was Dad’s turn to roll his eyes then.

  * * *

  A few minutes later, the EMT said I was good to go. I didn’t have a concussion, as best she could tell, but someone should stay with me and wake me every two hours just to be sure. She looked at my mother, and Mom practically raised her hand to volunteer.

  I stifled yet another groan. My mother had never been the super nurturing type, but she was stellar at being useful. And if useful included waking her exhausted daughter to be sure she was conscious, Mom was in. It was going to be a long night after an already long night.

  I climbed gingerly out of the ambulance as I waited for my vision to un-double, and then I looked around. Mart and Tiffany were talking to one deputy, and Henri, Bear, and Pickle were giving their statements to another. Daniel, Elle, and Woody wer
e sitting on the curb in front of Tiffany’s house with hot cups of coffee, and when Elle saw me headed that way, she reached behind her and brought out another cup.

  “Oh, thank God.” I winced. “It is decaf, though, right?” I already had Mommy Dearest eager to wake me up. I didn’t need to have trouble falling asleep, too.

  “Of course,” Elle said. “We women of a certain age need to guard each other’s sleep.” She winked at me and then put her fingertips against my temple. “You are going to have a really nice shiner there.”

  I smiled. I’d had a black eye once before, and while I didn’t relish the pain, the attention had been pretty fun. I turned to Daniel, “Will you still love me if I look like Rocky Balboa after he lost?”

  He gently pulled me to his chest. “Of course. As long as you don’t start calling me Adrian.”

  I shook my head. “As long as you don’t call me Rocky. One is enough.”

  “Speaking of which,” Woody said, “They both said to tell you they’ve got the store tomorrow. You are to stay home.” Our friend the woodsmith was typically pretty soft-spoken and passive, but there was a tone to his voice that told me he wasn’t simply the messenger here. I had a feeling that if I showed up in the bookstore tomorrow, I might be contending with a wiry older man at the door.

  “You don’t have to convince me. I am so tired I can barely stand.” I leaned harder into Daniel’s chest. “Take me home?”

  Daniel grinned. “I’m afraid we must rely on your parents for that honor. Remember?”

  I sighed. Right, we hadn’t brought either of our vehicles. “Fine. But Mom, you drive. My head can’t take any of Dad’s action movie moves.”

  Dad grinned. “They were pretty great, huh? I wonder if Matt Damon needs a stunt driver.”

  “Matt Damon, Mr. B,” Daniel said. “Isn’t he a bit too, well, youthful? Maybe Robert Redford.”

  I glanced from Daniel to my dad and wondered exactly when they’d become friendly enough to tease each other. I liked it.

  When we got back to our house, Mart and I immediately changed into pajamas, and Mom set us up with hot chocolate and Moose Tracks ice cream, a personal favorite combination, while Dad laid a fire and Daniel took care of the dogs and Aslan. Mayhem and Taco were a bit on edge, sensing the stress among their people, but the cat, well, she was just put out that someone was taking her seat again. I took pity on her and laid her chenille throw out beside the fireplace, and she looked at me with a bit less disdain after that.

  Daniel played with my hair as I stretched across the couch, and Mart rested in the pallet of blankets that Mom made for her on the floor. She’d always done that for me when I was sick, and for whatever reason, it had been the best place in the world to recover. Mart seemed to be liking it, too, but her smile really brightened when a certain red-headed chef appeared at the door with personal ramekins of Creme Brulee.

  “You’re not at the restaurant tonight?” she asked as she spread out the blanket beside her.

  “I asked for the night off. I wanted to be here.” He blushed, but he didn’t look away from her. “I’m so sorry that happened.”

  She put her hand in his as they lay side by side and watched the first episode of Kim’s Convenience with us all. It was maybe the weirdest and sweetest first date ever.

  Eventually, though, we had all laughed enough to displace a little of the terror of the day, and people began to trickle out. I sent Mom home, despite her protests about her promise to the doctor and the obvious glee she was feeling about waking me up repeatedly. Daniel stayed and helped me clean up while Mart walked Symeon to the door. We tried not to spy, but in an open-concept house, everything is in view, even a tiny, gentle first kiss.

  I was happy for my friend . . . I was also still terrified. Daniel offered to stay on the couch, just for reassurance, but Mart and I nixed that idea, told him we’d keep our phones by the bed, and climbed into my bed side-by-side, like it was a slumber party, not the night after a near-death experience.

  We stayed up talking for a while, mostly about first kisses and our high school boyfriends and haircuts. I had rocked an asymmetrical cut back then, too, but I’d also used a lot of gel. I couldn’t say I’d been quite on the cusp of fashion, but at least I hadn’t done the great flip-up and flip-down of bangs that Mart had apparently sported.

  Eventually, we fell asleep, our hands touching for comfort. More than ever I was grateful for my friend.

  The next morning, I woke early, texted Marcus to thank him for covering the store for me, again, and began planning my new window display about sexual assault. It was a little heavy for the holidays, but it felt right, too. Plus, the other window was already chock-full of pumpkin and cranberry cheerfulness, thanks to Marcus. A little reality in the midst of all the holiday frenzy might be just what we needed.

  Besides, I needed to do something, anything, to help bring about change. A window display or a book club wasn’t much, but it was something. And in my world that was so much formed by books, it was a big something to me.

  So when I couldn’t simply sit around the house any longer, I tied a bandana around my hair, leashed up Mayhem, and walked into town. Then, quietly, I took down the pumpkin display that Marcus hadn’t yet changed over to Thanksgiving and did my new one. Right in the middle, I dangled purple letters I had cut out from poster board. They said, “We believe you.”

  Then, I prominently featured Ellen Bass’s classic The Courage To Heal, and then I added in Speaking Truth to Power by Anita Hill and marveled at how, as a child, I’d absorbed the narrative that made it so easy for me to believe she was making it all up. I put in as many other titles as I could, including We Believe You by Annie E. Clark and Andrea L. Pino and then, because everything Roxane Gay does is magical, I put the final pièce de résistance – her book Not That Bad.

  When I stepped back, the display was a tender show of solidarity for victims. I knew it wouldn’t suit everyone, and I expected I’d get a few complaints from those whose political leanings encouraged them toward a different viewpoint. But I didn’t care. For me, this wasn’t about political parties. It was about human rights, and I would never feel bad about that.

  15

  That evening, all our friends gathered at Stephen and Walter’s waterside house. This promised to be one of the last mild evenings until Spring, and so we took full advantage of their large deck, the bonfire on the grass by the water, and a widely disparate assortment of hot dog roasting sticks. Daniel claimed that his stick only produced burnt hot dogs, and mine seemed determined to keep mine lukewarm . . . so he ate the one I cooked, and I ate his, which was perfectly charred and tasted amazing in a potato bun with ketchup and relish.

  Everyone had come with something to add – potato chips, coleslaw, some sort of chili that Lu swore was the only thing that made hot dogs palatable. Lucas even whipped up a batch of pumpkin cupcakes with cream cheese frosting for the gathering. It was perfect, especially when Stephen and Walter revealed their brand new bar that rivaled the best liquor stores on the Eastern Shore.

  After everyone had eaten their fill and settled in by the fire with a cupcake and some of the most amazing hot toddies I’d ever had, Tuck filled us in on the full story. Mart sat between Symeon, whose weekly night off was Tuesday, and Tiffany and held both of their hands tightly. I kept a close eye on Tiffany, and it seemed like she slowly relaxed as Tuck talked. Maybe that was what closure looked like.

  Apparently, Scott and Coach Cagle knew each other, just as Tiffany had suspected, but what she didn’t know was that they had met online in a chat room for men who claimed they’d been falsely accused of sexual assault. “It was the most misogynistic thing I’ve ever seen,” Tuck said. “I had to confirm the story the detective from Minneapolis told me about how Cagle and Scott knew each other, but I could barely stand to be there. It was so disgusting.”

  Lu leaned against her husband. “Good. I’m glad it disgusts you. If it didn’t, I’d be worried.” Every woman around the fire nod
ded.

  “Eventually, the men decided to meet up in person, and apparently they not only became friends but they also committed two ‘alleged,’” Tuck made air quotes, “rapes, too. But they both skipped town before they could be prosecuted. The prosecutors had them dead to rights for those two attacks, but they couldn’t find them, so the crimes are still unsolved.”

  I slid closer to Daniel, whose jaw was clenched so tightly that I thought he might crack a molar. I ran my fingers along his jaw. “It’s okay. Tuck’s not finished with the story,” I said quietly. “Right, you’re not finished?”

  “No,” he smiled at me. “Gavin – Scott as you knew him – is being extradited back to Minnesota to stand trial for those two rapes as soon as he finishes his trial here. He’s still claiming innocence of any sexual assault, but he has admitted to the threats and the bombing on the grounds that he was simply defending himself.”

  “Defending himself,” Mart sputtered. “In what way is that possible?”

  “It won’t stand up in court,” Tuck said. “But he’s claiming that his reputation was sullied because the women he attacked were willing—”

  “Okay, we get it,” Cate said as she looked at Tiffany. “We don’t need to hear more of that BS do we?”

  “Definitely not,” Tiffany said. “But he will stand trial?”

  “He will. Twice, and both the attorney general here and the one in Minnesota assure me that he will be put away for the rest of his life.” Tuck took a long pull from his beer. “As he should.”“Amen,” Bear whispered. “But what’s the story with Cagle’s death? Did you figure out who committed that crime?”

  Tuck grinned. “Actually, that was pretty easy. Scott, I mean Gavin did it. He was afraid Cagle was going to go back to Minnesota and rat him out, so he took care of the threat. That, it seems, is the reason he came here.” He looked at Tiffany. “I really think he had no idea you were here, no clue that Cagle had stalked you here. But when he found out—”