by Krista Davis
“Did you pay her off?”
John nearly snorted his wine. “Who gave you that idea?”
“A student.”
“Really? No, I had my attorney’s fees to pay. Trust me when I say there were no funds for paying anyone off.”
I didn’t want to come right out and accuse him of killing her. “I guess you know that she died.”
He looked at me with such an open expression of shock that I thought it was the first he had heard of her death.
“A car accident,” I said.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Truly sorry. She ruined my life, but she was way too young to die.”
“I’m surprised no one told you.”
“I haven’t been in touch with many of them. A few friends and students from those days have found me on Facebook, which is kind of cool.”
“How about Laura?” I asked.
“I hadn’t seen her since I left Douthier. Funny, I thought I had reached the point where all that was behind me. Ten years later and it’s still raising its ugly head. Remember when I went back to Macon to be matched to someone else? When he pegged me to Maddie Stevens, I nearly flipped out. Maddie is probably a very nice person, but she has to be at least sixteen years younger than me. I realized that night that those allegations have permanently changed me. There is no way I am ever going to be interested in anyone substantially younger than me. Ever. The minute I saw her, I knew there wasn’t a chance.”
“I guess Macon is right.”
“Not about me and Maddie!” John said.
“He may have done that intentionally. I’ve noticed that Macon likes to play games to get people together like he’s doing to us right now. I don’t see a photographer, do you?”
“Nope. But how would it help to set me up with Maddie?”
“To send both of you scurrying back to your original matches.”
“I get it. The wrong person makes the right person seem all that much better. What a sneaky guy. It might have worked if you hadn’t been an ax murderer.”
“You’re going to have a tough time writing thrillers if you don’t know the difference between an ax and a hoe.”
John tried to suppress a grin.
Was he beginning to change his mind about me? “Macon can’t know all our histories. I meant his assertion that we know within minutes or mere seconds whether a relationship is possible was correct.” I ate a bite of creamy potato salad—nicely tangy, with pickles. “Hey, wait a minute. You did the same thing to me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You told Dave you saw me when Hank was killed. But I was not there. Just like I jumped to conclusions about the allegations of sexual misconduct on your part, you somehow jumped to the conclusion that I was a murderer.”
John set his plate down. Holding up his left hand, he ticked items off on his fingers as he recited them. “One, you were sneaking around my yard in the dark in a disguise when you claim you were trying to distract Hank. Two, Trixie’s arrival confirmed that you were there. Three, I saw you lurking in my backyard around three in the morning. Four, I caught you with my binoculars when you returned in the morning and hid among the trees. And five, you spied on Ben, thus setting a precedent for that kind of behavior.”
I had just taken another bite of the potato salad and choked. “Ben? Why? Why would he say something like that?”
“I guess you did it to him, too.”
“Never! How could I? That’s not even physically possible. He lives in a condo on the fifth floor. He doesn’t even have a balcony. Does he think I have a pole that extends five stories in the air with a camera attached to it?”
“That’s odd. It does sound implausible.”
“And why would you think, and worse, tell Dave, that I was in your backyard at three in the morning when that couldn’t possibly have been the case?”
“You were wearing the same jacket you had on the night before. I saw you there.”
He was so stubborn. “That wasn’t me. You saw the murderer!”
Thirty-five
“Tell me exactly what happened,” I said.
“Cooper woke me by barking. It wasn’t like when he sees a squirrel and barks like a crazy dog. It was just a bark or two—more like an alert. It was around three in the morning. A large bedroom suite takes up the second floor of the house. There’s a nook with cushions at a large window that overlooks the backyard, and Cooper had jumped up on it to look outside. So I got up and peered out, too. That was when I saw you. I considered going downstairs to yell at you, but thought better of it and went back to bed. Of course, at the time, it never occurred to me that it could be anything more than you snooping around. I wondered why you would bother, unless you were hanging around to see if a woman was staying over at my place.”
“You never saw this person’s face?”
“No,” he said.
“You just assumed it was me?”
He blew air out of his mouth like a deflating balloon before he said, “I recognized the jacket you wore the night we found Randall’s body. It’s white, which, by the way, is not the best color to wear when you go out to murder someone at night.”
I thought back to what I had worn the day before. “If you saw me earlier that night, then you knew I was wearing a dark coat over a life vest to bulk me up.”
“Like you couldn’t change clothes? Plus, I hear the killer used a garden hoe from your aunt’s shed. You would have known where to find that.”
“I suppose you think I murdered Randall, too?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I can’t believe it! Why not pin that one on me?”
“I don’t know exactly what time he was murdered, but you seemed to be pretty busy at the inn, and I seriously doubt that there would have been enough time for you to run over to the Shire, murder him, and get back to the dog play area before I saw you there,” John said.
“Gee, thanks for letting me off the hook for that murder. Has it occurred to you that I might be too smart to wear a white jacket to clobber someone in the dark and that other people also own white jackets?”
“I’m feeling a little bit sheepish about that now. I really thought it was you. If it makes you feel any better, Dave found a button in the grass. There’s a good chance it matches the jacket that was worn that night.”
Now I wanted to run up to my closet and search for my white jacket.
“You’ve been turning up everywhere I go, and when I saw the jacket, I thought, There she is again. I didn’t expect this, Holly, but I was a lot more comfortable when I thought you had murdered Hank. At least I knew who to watch out for. Now it could be anybody.”
“Do you think you’re the next target?”
“Not really. But I’ve been carrying pepper spray in my pocket, just in case.”
“You bought pepper spray to protect yourself from me?”
“I bought it to protect Cooper and me from bears when we’re out hiking on the mountain trails. But strange things have been happening in this town, so I’ve been carrying it around with me.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “That’s why you were brave enough to sit out here with me. You have it on you right now?”
His eyes met mine. “I feel like a complete crumb. The thing is that since I met you, I’ve felt like I’m being watched. I’ve seen people lurking in the dark around my house. And you’ve turned up everywhere I go, so I thought it was you.”
“Maybe you felt that way because Hank was hanging around Zelda’s house and your backyards aren’t separated by a fence. I saw him walking between your houses when I went over to lead him astray.”
“You’re probably right. I associated it with you because it didn’t happen to me before I met you. But Hank arrived in town just about that time, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know when he arrived, but
he came to the inn a couple of hours before you did.”
“So if you didn’t murder him, who did?” asked John.
“Ben, Zelda, and I discussed this. I think we can eliminate Sky Stevens. She’s Randall’s sister-in-law, but I don’t think she had to time to kill Randall.”
“You’re assuming the same person murdered Randall and Hank?”
I looked at him in surprise. “Randall’s wallet, containing a large amount of cash, was in Hank’s pocket.”
“Whoa!” John exclaimed so loud that the dogs jumped up. “That puts everything in a new light.”
I nodded. “Nessie Jamieson appears to have known them both. She was steaming angry at Hank the night he died. As far as I can tell, she had the opportunity to knock both of them off. I guess her daughter could have, too. And then there’s Bob Lane, one of the pharmacists at Heal! Have you met him yet?”
“Is that the good-looking guy, around forty-five or fifty?”
“That’s him,” I confirmed.
“I don’t know him, but he has always been nice when I’ve gone in to buy something. And he makes a great old-fashioned milk shake. I didn’t think anyone made those anymore.”
I told him about the lawsuit against Bob and how Hank had stolen from the drugstore. “That’s really all we’ve got in terms of suspects.”
“You left a few people out. I know she’s your friend, but you have to consider Zelda—“
“No way! I’ve seen Zelda catch spiders and bees. She takes them outside and releases them. I know Hank was a pain in her neck, but she wouldn’t have killed him unless it was in self-defense. But don’t forget Macon.” And you, I thought. I immediately hated myself for even thinking such a thing. After all, I had no reason to imagine that he had known Randall or Hank. Nevertheless, I glanced back at the inn and took comfort in the murmuring I could hear only a few yards away, where Oma, Gustav, and Zelda talked on Oma’s patio.
If I’d truly thought John had killed someone, I would have left already. I looked at his face. Even in the fading light of day, he had honest eyes. I didn’t want to run away. I wanted to kiss him. Surely I wouldn’t want to kiss a killer!
Was I doing what Macon had described? Was something in my brain overriding the fact that John had turned me in as a killer? I should be too furious to speak with him. But I wasn’t. Drat that Macon. Would I be questioning my reactions in relationships the rest of my life?
I decided to go with my gut feeling. After all, Trixie liked him. Dogs were known to be excellent judges of character.
“Macon. Randall said such awful things about him.” I glanced up the hill toward the inn. “Seems unkind to talk about him that way when he set up this picnic for us.”
“Holly, I haven’t met many people in Wagtail who haven’t been nice. To me that means someone who seems terrific is really evil to the core.” He lowered his voice. “And Macon certainly had the opportunity. I’ve seen him all over town. I seriously doubt that he had an event scheduled in the middle of the night, when Hank was killed, or Thursday evening when Randall was done in. But I don’t know why he would have murdered Hank unless it was because he lied about being a doctor.”
“You heard about that, huh?”
“Everybody heard about it. I think it made a lot of people reconsider their matches. I know Laura had second thoughts about Ben.”
“They weren’t matched to begin with. They just met in a bar. But Macon had a big reason to loathe Hank. Seems Hank took financial advantage of Macon’s favorite cousin. Macon interfered in the nick of time, but I gather quite a bit of money went to Hank.”
“Macon. Who would have thought it? Should we tell Dave what we know?” John asked.
“You should certainly tell him that you have changed your mind about seeing me there at the time of the murder!”
The sun had almost set and the moon glowed in the sky. We would need lanterns soon. Cooper and Trixie played along the edge of the lake. Cooper jumped in and out, and Trixie sniffed along the shore.
I was feeling much better. John would clear me with Dave, and I wouldn’t be a suspect anymore. And I was convinced that he was telling me the truth about the terrible allegations against him at Douthier.
We had made it to the chocolate-dipped strawberries when Trixie started barking. I bit into a strawberry and turned my head to see what Trixie was fussing about.
Cooper appeared to flounder in water that was over his head.
Thirty-six
The two of us leaped to our feet and dashed toward the lake. We splashed into the water, headed for Cooper.
John threw his arms around Cooper’s chest and tried to help him to shore. I saw the problem immediately. Cooper wasn’t drowning. He had grabbed hold of a waterlogged branch and refused to release it.
“He’s dragging a branch,” I yelled over the sound of thrashing water.
“Cooper, drop it!” John shouted.
But Cooper was stubborn. He’d found that branch and didn’t intend to let go of his prize.
I did my best to grasp it. When I pulled, whatever it had been stuck on finally gave way.
Cooper jerked it away from me, and I fell backward into the water. I scrambled to my feet.
Trixie continued to bark.
John struggled toward the shore holding Cooper, who still clenched the large branch in his mouth. As soon as they were in shallow water, John let go and Cooper bounded out, dragging the surprisingly large tree branch. A rag hung off it.
John waded in my direction. “Are you okay?”
By that time, Oma, Gustav, Macon, Zelda, and half a dozen other guests had heard the commotion and waited for us on the shore.
“I’m fine. I’m just glad Cooper is okay.” Weighed down by wet jeans, I trudged toward Cooper, who still held on to his branch, even though Trixie tugged at it. Gingersnap joined in the fun.
John reached toward me for my hand. We were both drenched.
A lone person on the shore stepped away from everyone else and walked over to the dogs. He ignored their playful growling and lifted the fabric off the branch.
As we drew closer, I realized it was Dave, and he was looking straight at me.
“Hi!” In spite of my wet clothes, I was eager to be off the hook. “John has some news.”
Dave held up the cloth in gloved hands. “Does this look familiar?”
I walked up to him to examine it. What I had thought was a rag turned out to be a whitish denim jacket. Probably formerly white, before it spent time in the lake. In the moonlight, I couldn’t make out too much more, except that it had stains on it and it looked an awful lot like my jacket.
“That is not mine.” Blood pounded in my ears so loud that I was afraid everyone could hear it. I hadn’t been able to put my hands on my white denim jacket a couple of hours ago, but I hadn’t taken the time to look for it carefully. Surely I had left it in the office or in the private kitchen.
“How can you tell?” asked Dave.
I desperately wanted to say the cut or the buttons weren’t the same. But they were. “Mine wasn’t stained. And I’m sure it’s not in the lake.”
Dave nodded. “That’s a relief. Let’s go up to the inn and have a look at your jacket.”
We started up the hill to the inn.
It wasn’t cold out. And the lake water had been a pleasant temperature, but I shivered as though a cold wind had blown through. What if I couldn’t find my jacket? What if Hank’s killer had disposed of the white jacket he wore in the lake and it wound up near the inn? How could I prove it wasn’t mine?
I could hear Zelda, Macon, and Laura assuring John that they would pack up the picnic items.
John caught up to me. “Are you all right? I can stick around.”
It was kind of him to offer. But there wasn’t a thing he could do to help, and he was as wet as I was. “Go on h
ome and change into dry clothes. I’m sure everything will be fine here.” I said it with fake confidence. I wasn’t sure at all.
As we walked toward the inn, I hoped the jacket in the lake was the wrong size. It was fairly unlikely that it would be too small for me. But maybe it was very large. I could hope! Would Dave even allow me to try it on when it dried? I didn’t think so. Certainly not if he thought it could be tied to Hank’s death.
I headed straight for Oma’s office. Dave followed me with the jacket.
I offered him a white trash bag for it, but he hesitated before placing the jacket in it.
“Something wrong?”
“Plastic isn’t good for preserving evidence.”
I wanted to say, You could leave it outside, but it might sound sassy, and that was something I couldn’t afford at the moment. I simply pointed out, “It’s dripping.”
“I guess I don’t have much choice. Hurry up. Where’s your jacket?”
I wondered if any old white jacket would satisfy him. I glanced around the office and poked my head in the closet. My hands trembled, and I was so nervous that I could barely focus. I took a deep breath and went through the hangers one by one. It wasn’t there.
I debated telling him the truth—that I couldn’t find it. But that would be like admitting that the jacket in the lake was mine. If I said that, would he have enough evidence to put me in jail? To charge me with the murder?
I was panicking. I needed to calm down and think logically. Taking another deep breath, I turned around. “It must be upstairs in my apartment.”
Dave didn’t smile. He didn’t nod. He wore a stony expression that made my panic level rise even more. I wanted to reason with him. To tell him again that the jacket wasn’t mine, and that I hadn’t been there, and I had nothing to do with Hank’s murder. Yet somehow it seemed if I said it all again, I would be pleading with him and admitting that the jacket he held belonged to me.
