Vangie Vale and the Murdered Macaron (The Matchbaker Mysteries Book 1)

by R. L. Syme

  Derek shook his head and bowed it. I wanted to get out of my car and comfort him. It was a natural pastoral impulse. But I was trying this new thing where I didn’t put myself in danger. No matter how much I thought I trusted him, I was in a place with no escape, one where I didn’t know the terrain. If my instincts were even a little bit off, then I couldn’t put myself in that position with a strapping, muscular man who broke into people’s houses and rode a Harley.

  Not wise.

  “I wonder who identified it,” I said, gripping the steering wheel. “Even when they know the identity of the person, they usually bring someone in to confirm the identity. Maybe her fingerprints were in the system?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” He shrugged, still bent over his bike. “They might have had Nikki do it.”

  But that wasn’t possible. Nikki had been at the basketball game, and fought with Malcolm. Claire had already been identified at that point. But not before Malcolm paid me a visit at the bakery; he hadn’t used her name. Then again, maybe that had been intentional.

  Maybe he had already known who she was and was testing me. Chilling thought.

  “As far as I know, she’d never been arrested. But we spent a lot of time apart over the years, too. She had a thing about being tied down.” He finally looked at me. “I would go for months without seeing her. Sometimes she broke up with me first, said we were getting a divorce. Sometimes she didn’t. I just kept waiting for her to figure her life out. I guess I didn’t wait long enough.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Derek.” I poured all the compassion I could muster into my words. “You were good to her.” From everything I’d seen and heard, it was true. Her family had abandoned her. He was the only one in her life who’d simply been there.

  “I just wish I had been able to get her to see herself the way I saw her.” His voice cracked with emotion. “Maybe none of this would have happened.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you one last question?” I said, trying to tread lightly. When he didn’t respond, I barreled forward. “If Scarlet and I hadn’t been there, what would you have done after Jenna brought you the bag?”

  “Probably just left town.” He shook his head, leaning back on the seat of his bike. “I wanted to get out of here something bad. When I ran into Mike Van Andel, I was buying supplies to clean the house so I could check out with the rental company.”

  “Where did that happen?”

  “At the grocery store.”

  “In the middle of the day?”

  “Yeah.” He waved his hand like it was no big deal. “He’s a vet, so he was on his way back from a house call or something.”

  “Did he suggest that you should leave town?” I ventured.

  Derek’s features perked with interest and he leaned toward me like he was thinking of dismounting. “Why would he do that?”

  “I just wondered if he said anything that seemed off to you.”

  “Not really. He just said he was sorry about what happened to Claire and that Nikki had something for me. At first I thought it might be money, but he said it was a bag of Claire’s stuff. Y’know, I might not even have opened it before leaving.”

  A flash of memory caught my attention. Derek and money. Mike Van Andel in Nikki’s kitchen, talking about Derek asking for money. I swallowed hard and took my life into my hands. I half-closed my eyes while I asked the question.

  “Why would you assume it was money?”

  “Because Nikki owed me.” His tone got suddenly hard. “Well, she owed Claire. There was some kind of inheritance or something, a bunch of money that Claire was owed by Frances and Nikki that she was supposed to come into. They were supposed to pay up. I came to Nikki’s house one night so Claire wouldn’t have to see her, and Mike Van Andel was there, and I told him they were either going to give us the money, or I was going to hire a lawyer. He said he’d make sure it got to me. Still hasn’t happened.”

  I thought back to the conversation I’d had with Scarlet. The checks going to the Mockingbird Lane address, which was probably Frances’s house. Depending on how much money he sent every month, there had to be quite a bank account. But the checks were made out to Claire, so unless they had some kind of shared bank account, the money should have been Claire’s. And because Derek was her husband, they would become his.

  That money was the bane of my existence. It was the thing that connected Claire to Henry and, by proxy, both of them to Austin. But if money had been the motive, then why not kill Claire and Derek instead of Claire and Henry? None of it added up.

  “I lost you again,” Derek said, and when I looked up, he had swung one leg off his bike. He was leaning over his knees, staring at me intently. “What’re you thinking?”

  I pressed my lips together. “Trying to figure out who could have killed Claire. None of the motives make sense to me.”

  “Do you think the cops will start investigating again?”

  “Now that we have eyewitness proof that she was alive when Henry left the gas station, I think those chances are good. Assuming her time of death was after that.”

  He flexed his hands and dropped his elbows to his knees. “I just want to know what happened to her.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Then what do you think we should do?”

  “What are you going to do with the knife?” I asked, swallowing a little.

  He raised a brow. “Do you really want to know?”

  “No, you’re right. It’s better if I don’t know.” I let out a long breath, very aware of how over-my-head I really was, in this case. But I couldn’t stop now. “I’d like to check in with Scarlet before she leaves town. And then I think we both need to get some rest. Maybe Malcolm will turn something up, when he re-opens the case.”

  Derek agreed to lead me back to the main road and come to the B&B with me. When we came away from the mountains, and I could see bars reappear on the face of my phone, I breathed a little sigh of relief. I didn’t like being without a connection to the outside world.

  The town was mostly dead. Almost all of the stores were closed by six o’clock, and most of the restaurants closed by eight. In an agricultural community, darkness meant rest and quiet. There were a few bars that would stay open, but that was about it.

  When I drove down Mockingbird Lane, something tightened in my gut as we approached the B&B. A familiar truck was parked in front of it. It looked like the same blue truck that had been parked in Malcolm’s driveway. There was a good chance it belonged to Mike Van Andel, but I couldn’t be sure. It was too dark and I had only seen it a couple of times at the bakery.

  I told Derek as much as we approached the door, and he immediately crouched over. There were no lights on in the ground floor of the B&B, except for a very dim lamp in the entryway.

  Derek took a tool out of his pocket and picked the lock on the front door. When I punched his arm, he shrugged, like it was no big deal. I don’t know why I was surprised, given that this was his second B&E of the day.

  He looked around and then motioned for me to follow him up the stairs. I could hear someone above us talking. Mumbled voices, like they were behind closed doors.

  With a finger over his mouth, Derek drew me around to the side of the steps, where it looked like there was a small closet.

  “You’re lighter on your feet than I am,” he whispered. “It would be easier for you to sneak up on them.” He pressed his foot down and the old floors creaked in answer. “This place is too old for me to sneak around.”

  I blew out a long breath. If Mike Van Andel was up there, and he caught me spying, then I would be in so much trouble. I might lose Leo at the bakery. I would definitely lose my collar. But Derek was right. We had to find out why Mike was here. It didn’t make any sense for him to be talking with Scarlet. A lot of what he’d been doing around town these last few days didn’t make any sense.

  Making a quick sign of the cross, I crept up the stairs, wincing every time I made the slightest noise. But the p
eople who were talking upstairs were clearly inside a room, and they were arguing so loudly, it wasn’t unlikely they’d hear anything.

  When I got to the landing, I made a quick survey of my surroundings. There were several closed doors along both sides—the guests’ rooms, no doubt—and two open doors. There was a light on under one of the closed doors, and I assumed that was Scarlet’s room. Just beside it was one of the open doors.

  Bathroom?

  I tiptoed to the open door, holding my breath as I passed the door I’d tentatively ID’ed as Scarlet’s. This was maybe the stupidest thing I’d done in…well, the last few days had been chock full of stupid things. When I came through the door, I pushed out a relieved breath at the sight of the toilet and pedestal sink. I closed the door but didn’t latch it. I could finally focus on the voices.

  One wall seemed to adjoin with Scarlet’s room, but the only door was to the hallway. I pressed my ear against the plaster beside the mirror, squeezing between the sink and the toilet, trying not to disturb anything that wasn’t nailed down.

  I could practically hear their words verbatim.

  “I am not going to betray Henry’s memory like that,” Scarlet yelled. Someone must have shushed her, because she continued in a normal voice. “I don’t care what you say would come out about him. I already know the worst.”

  “But the public doesn’t,” said a man’s voice. It sounded like Mike Van Andel. What the craic was he doing here talking to Scarlet?

  “You don’t know very much about Hollywood,” she said loudly, with a condescending laugh. “The public has a pretty high tolerance for scandal.”

  “But assault? They’re going to forgive him for that?”

  “Better that than murder.”

  “I don’t think you want to test that theory.”

  “I don’t think you know me very well, Mr. Van Andel.” Scarlet sounded unshakable, and I respected her for maybe the first time since we’d met.

  “Then there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

  “I don’t know how many times I can tell you this. I am not going to say that Henry took the car and went back to that stupid gas station.”

  I swallowed. So, they’d already heard about the alibi witness? What kind of crazy Ocean’s Eleven conspiracy was going on here? Were they tapping my phone or something?

  “No one would even know,” he said. “You said yourself, Mrs. Nelson didn’t see either one of you come in. It’s a harmless lie.”

  There’s no such thing, I wanted to finish for her.

  “But it’s not the truth, and Henry deserves the truth. If that sheriff gets off his lazy butt and investigates this like he should, he’ll find out who really killed that girl, and I want Henry to be exonerated.”

  “Even if the truth comes out about what he really did?” Mike’s voice rose to such a fever pitch, my fists tightened in response, like I was in full-on fight-or-flight mode.

  I took a couple of shallow breaths, trying to calm myself. I’m not in any danger, I kept repeating to myself, but it wasn’t working. My body felt like I was.

  I thought I had enough information to get out of that bathroom. Get back to Derek. If I stayed, I risked getting trapped up there, never knowing if another guest might show up, or if Mike was waiting outside for me. Even though I hadn’t parked directly behind him, I didn’t have a forgettable car.

  With careful steps, I hurried past Scarlet’s door, and down the stairs. It sounded like they’d stopped talking for a second, but I didn’t wait around to see why. I was too close to freedom.

  I took the last couple of steps fast and grabbed Derek on my way out the door. Footsteps were pounding on the stairs behind me, and I heard Mike’s voice call out for me to stop.

  No way in Hades.

  We were just out the front door, when I heard him yell, “Stop. Police. Stop right now.”

  I froze on the porch, and Derek bumped into me, knocking me to the ground. We went down together—a tangle of legs—and my shoulder hit the wood hard. When I looked up, Stefan Van Andel was standing over me in his deputy uniform, his gun drawn, his hands shaking, moving the muzzle between Derek and me. His breath was shallow and his lips were pulled back over his teeth.

  He was going to shoot one of us, right there on the porch, and I kept wishing I had never let go of that Febreeze.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Stefan continued to point his weapon at me, so I raised my hands and rolled onto my back. He looked so much like his brother, and now I knew he sounded like him too.

  “Stop moving,” he ordered. I complied, although Derek didn’t seem to take his instructions seriously. He was pushing my legs off his and scooting into an upright position.

  “You, too,” Stefan said, pointing the gun at Derek instead. “Put your hands up.”

  This time, the biker complied. I couldn’t move or speak, not with a loaded weapon aimed at us.

  With a flash of white, I saw Scarlet poke her head down the stairs. She kept coming, until she was almost behind the deputy. She had this long, white sweater coat draped around her like silk. She looked ridiculous.

  I’d never been happier to see anyone in my life.

  “Now, what are you doing here?” Stefan said.

  “I…I was going to rent a room,” Derek stuttered out. “I’m checking out of my rental and I heard this was a good place.”

  “Then why did you run?” The deputy’s shoulders were still heaving with quick breaths, and he hadn’t lowered his gun.

  Derek shrugged. “Instinct.”

  Stefan seemed to consider us both and then looked back at Scarlet and dropped his eyes from hers. He lowered the weapon, too. Then he holstered it, and I finally let out the breath I’d been holding since Derek had started lying.

  “Wait. I know you.” Mike’s brother pointed at me. “You’re that pastor-baker chick.”

  I rubbed my tongue slowly back and forth on my bottom lip. Busted. “Yes. I am.”

  “What are you doing here with him?”

  “Uh.” I pushed my hands down my blue-jeaned thighs. “Is it okay if I get up? I think I’m sitting on a patch of ice.”

  Stefan reached out a hand to offer assistance, but before I could take it, Derek was on his feet and helping me up. The deputy stepped back, shoving his hand in his pocket.

  “She gave me a ride from the feed store.” Derek released me to my own two feet and started to wipe off his clothes.

  “So that’s not your bike, right out there?” Stefan pointed off toward where my car was parked on the street.

  “Are we done here, Deputy?” Scarlet said in her haughtiest, most convincing Southern Belle voice. She actually threw the edge of the white cape around her neck like a scarf, and I had to fight not to laugh at the spectacle.

  “Sorry to have wasted your time, ma’am. I hope you’ll reconsider,” he answered in a tight tone. “Have a nice night.”

  “Oh, Derek,” Scarlet whimpered, from a few steps inside the door. “If you’d like to rent a room for the night, I can call up Mrs. Nelson and have her come to the front desk.”

  I gave him a wide-eyed look. We hadn’t planned for this. But if Derek didn’t follow through, wouldn’t they know we’d lied? He moved off to join Scarlet and I waited for Stefan Van Andel to pass me. Instead, he gestured toward the steps, like he planned to escort me all along.

  Great.

  I looked back at Derek, gave him half a shrug and patted my pocket, hoping he’d know I kept my phone there. I smiled up at Stefan, who was still all tense muscles and locked jaw. It had to be discomfiting to have been denied by Scarlet and then immediately subjected to our shenanigans, and while I didn’t think he knew I’d been listening up there, he had to know that both Malcolm and Mike had asked me not to be involved with this case.

  I was nothing if not persistent.

  Stefan walked me to my car and I glanced at his truck for a few seconds. I couldn’t tell if it was the same truck I’d seen at Malcolm’s ear
lier, although it made sense, given that they worked together.

  Maybe I was making mountains out of coincidences, but it certainly seemed like there were an awful lot of strange, and suspicious connections, in this case.

  “How did you get mixed up with a guy like that, anyway?” Stefan asked. His tone was sort of nonchalant, but there was an undeniable stiffness to it.

  “Your boss thought I had something to do with his wife being murdered,” I answered matter-of-factly, clicking the button to unlock the Tank. “So, he kinda hunted me down.”

  “Well, you should get un-mixed-up as fast as you can.” He was stepping away, gesturing at me like he was being helpful, but I couldn’t help noticing that his expression was just as tight as it had been moments ago. “He’s bad news. Has a criminal record, you know.”

  “I did not, but I’m sure he appreciates you spreading that around.” With a sickly-sweet smile, I opened the door to my vehicle, trying to wave him off. Stefan returned to his truck, like he’d given up, but I continued to watch him.

  I pulled out my phone, flipping the messages app open and texting my sister a quick reminder about the chat we’d agreed to have the following afternoon. I glanced over the steering wheel and noticed Stefan opening his phone as well. He did not start his truck.

  Scrolling through the numbers in my call history, I finally found Derek’s. I texted him, and my phone rang a moment later.

  Derek.

  “Come back inside,” he whispered. “Scarlet wants to talk to you.”

  “I can’t. The right honorable deputy is still watching me.”

  “Just come back in. He can’t do anything to you.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I said with a shiver. “You didn’t just get escorted to your car by a cop.”

  “You haven’t done anything wrong, Vangie.”

  “Except breaking-and-entering. Twice, thank you very much. Or should I say, no-thank-you-very-much.” I settled the phone into the cradle and put in my Bluetooth headpiece. I rarely used it, since service was so spotty around town, but I didn’t want to give Deputy Do-Right any reason to pull me over.