"Is that right? How do you know Olivia?"
Dash nearly pitched face forward onto the front lawn when I said her name. Apparently he thought old friend would be the end of the conversation.
I'd never seen anyone search so hard for some kind of explanation. I almost felt bad for him. Mom managed to step in and erase any discomfort with a brisk topic switch. "I'm going to be baking at Elsie's this evening. You should stop by later at Lacey's house for some coffee and petit fours." Mom was practically twittering with enthusiasm for her plan. "Wouldn't that be nice, Lacey?"
"I'm sure Dash has more important things to do than sample petit fours." I sensed immediately that I'd hurt Mom's feelings and wanted to step back a few seconds in time. "I mean," I said, quickly, "I know Dash would love to taste your baked creations, Mom. They are wonderful but Dash is busy. In between work hours, he's remodeling his house. Besides, there are old friends to catch up with." I couldn't resist the final jab.
Dash looked as if he would have given anything to take back his decision to walk over and talk to us. I decided to help him out of his predicament.
I patted Captain on his head. "You should get going. I'm sure Captain is anxious to go on his walk."
"Yes, I'll let you two ladies go too. Have a good rest of the day." Dash's green eyes flicked back my direction as he turned to leave. I couldn't read his expression but it was rare to see Dash uncomfortable or not at ease. For the longest time, I told myself to stay out of the fray between Dash and Briggs. I enjoyed both of their friendships but Olivia's arrival had sparked my curiosity. There was more to the story with him and Olivia the X. I was determined to find out the beginning, middle and end.
Chapter 26
After dropping my very giddy Mom off at Elsie's, I discovered Dad next door at Coffee Hutch.
Dad and Les were sitting on one of Les's tall pub tables sipping coffees and looking windswept and sunburned. Les was wearing one of his signature Hawaiian shirts, one that was mostly bright red. I could barely see the difference between the red fabric and his face.
"Lacey," Dad piped up when he spotted me. "You just missed that detective fella. He was asking about ya." I knew Dad was tired when he was saying words like fella and ya. He might have been exhausted, but it seemed he was having a great time with Lester.
"He was asking about me? Interesting." It was possible Briggs had something new on the case. It was a perfectly legitimate reason to go down to the station to see him. I first sat with Dad and Lester.
"Sure is horrible to hear about Jenny Ripley," Les said. "She was an awfully nice person. Always came in every Wednesday for some hot tea and lemon."
I nodded. "She struck me right away as someone who was just permanently kind. That's why this is an especially baffling case. How was it today? Lots of fish biting?"
They snuck secret grins toward each other as if they'd been friends forever. I knew they'd get along well, and I was so pleased to see it.
"Not much success at the end of the fishing line," Les said. "But we had a great time."
I reached over and pressed my finger against Dad's cheek. It turned white and then red again. "And, I see it was such a good time you forgot about sun block. You do realize Mom is going to have a conniption fit about this sunburn."
Dad shrugged. "Yeah but it was worth it. I'm going to head home and shower. I'm invited to a game of poker tonight with Les and a few of his friends." Dad leaned closer and whispered for dramatic effect. "But I'll leave the poker part out when I mention it to your mom."
"Don't think she'll hear anything you say, Dad, because she'll be blinded and rendered speechless by that lobster face you're wearing."
Les laughed. "Elsie's going to give me an earful too. She takes such good care of her health and her skin."
I climbed off the bench. "Well, they are baking petite fours right now, so you boys have a few hours to try out some foundation or come up with some good excuses for not using sun block."
"I've got one," Dad said. "I hate the way that stuff smells. Makes my eyes water. If my eyes were watery, I wouldn't be able to catch fish."
Les elbowed him. "Which you didn't catch regardless." They both broke out in laughter.
I waved and walked away.
"Where ya going, kiddo?" Dad called.
"I'm going to see why that detective fella was looking for me."
Les muttered something to my dad that was obviously not meant for my ears. I was sure the topic was Briggs and me. I ignored it and headed toward the police station.
Briggs' car was out front, signaling he was in the office. I walked inside. Hilda, the woman who ran dispatch and the front desk peered up over the chin height counter.
"Lacey, haven't seen you in awhile. I was just asking Detective Briggs where you'd been and here you are. Nice to see you."
"Nice to see you too, Hilda. Do you think he has time to see me?" I was suddenly and unexpectedly nervous about seeing him.
"Let me check." Hilda got up and knocked on the office door. She went in and popped out seconds later. I half expected her to say he didn't have time, but she buzzed me through the gate and waved me past.
Detective Briggs was sitting behind his desk. It was obvious there was still awkward tension between us when he popped up to formally welcome me into his office. Not that he didn't usually stand but there was something far more stiff about his greeting this time. I decided the easiest way to put to rest the awkwardness was by getting straight to murder business.
"Thought I should let you know that I have definitive proof that Molly was cheating in the pie contest." I reached his desk. He motioned for me to have a seat in the chair across from him. "By definitive, I mean I tasted the pie sample she entered and the pie baked by Mayfield Bakery. They were the same pie."
He jotted the information down in his notebook, but I got the sense that he was doing it to be polite so as not to brush off my information as useless.
"I know it seems like a silly motive, but I'm certain that's what I saw Jenny and Molly arguing about the night Jenny was shot. Molly might have worried about being shamed by the town when they found out she cheated. Maybe she shot Jenny to save herself the embarrassment." I shrugged. "Just a theory."
"A theory that gets dissolved quickly by the fact that Molly has an alibi. She was working in the salt water taffy booth at the time of Jenny's murder."
I sank down some. "Oh, yeah, that."
"Yep. It's a good alibi."
"And Carla was with her husband at the time. And there are neighbors to verify that so I can skip my theory about a crime of passion motivation. Vernon did have the picnic with Jenny just the night before. Even knowing it upset Carla."
"Yes, I'd say she has a solid alibi too." He flipped through his notebook. "If private citizens could have a page for Yelp reviews, Jenny would have all five star ratings. People were genuinely fond of her. It's hard to find a motive when everyone adored the victim."
"Makes it even more tragic then, doesn't it? She was a good person. I know I liked her instantly." I sat forward and rubbed my chin. "Wait, aren't we forgetting—there is one person who had a bone to pick with Jenny."
Briggs flipped to a page in his notebook. "Percy Troy, her neighbor. I was just about to head out to Jenny's house and talk to him. Would you like to come along?"
I practically choked on a gasp of air. I covered my mouth to stifle a cough.
"Or maybe you don't have time," Briggs suggested.
"No. I mean yes, I do have time if you don't mind me tagging along." The overly polite and conciliatory conversation was ridiculous. We'd always had such an easy time talking to each other. I hated that things had gotten rough and unnatural between us.
"I don't mind at all. I'm going to have a look around Jenny's house as well." He grabbed his shoulder holster off the hook by the door and his coat off the chair and got ready to go out. "How were the fireworks?" he asked.
It seemed an odd topic for him to mention since he'd stood me up fo
r our date. Maybe he was just trying to make conversation.
"Other than it ending with murder, it was very nice. Loud but exciting. My parents and I had a nice time."
"That's great. And, Lacey, I am sorry about that night. I had every intention of watching the show with you."
"Briggs, let's just solve Jenny's murder and leave other stuff behind for now."
He paused at the door and looked at me. It was hard to stay angry at him when he used those brown eyes to apologize. But I wasn't quite ready to be un-mad.
"You're right. Let's go solve this thing, Miss Pinkerton."
Chapter 27
The car ride to Jenny's house was polite and formal and nothing like our usual time together. Our pets became the easy, safe topic of choice and because his dog, Bear, was a large, silly pup and my crow was extraordinarily human-like it helped fill some of the drive time with light humor.
Briggs looked over at me. "You're certain?" he asked. "Kingston has a crush on the Fruit Loops bird?"
"I can't think of any other explanation for him staring longingly at the box. He doesn't care for the cereal at all. And the toucan is a fairly impressive bird, as far as birds go."
Briggs chuckled as he parked in front of Jenny's house. It seemed my crow and his obsession with a cereal logo had helped lighten the mood between us.
We climbed out of the car. With the heat of summer drumming down on her untended, un-watered garden, the flowers were starting to wilt. "Her friend Carla let me know that Jenny kept a key under the front mat." He shook his head in dismay. "Because no thief would ever guess that."
"Spoken like a true man of the law. But just for the record, there is no spare key under my welcome mat. Mostly because I'm not organized enough to have a spare key."
"I was just about to congratulate you, but I guess I'll hold my accolades."
Briggs and I walked up to the house. He noticed the half removed stone wall and the few posts for a new fence. There was no one working on it.
"I rode by here in the morning," I said. "Mostly for a little exercise. I noticed that Percy was no longer working on the fence. I'm sure he decided it wasn't necessary if his neighbor was no longer around to make sure it happened."
"He was building it himself?" Briggs asked before stooping down to lift the mat. He pulled out the key.
"Yes, Jenny told me he was very cheap. When the judge ordered him to pay for the construction of the new fence on the real property line, which falls three feet on his side, Percy decided to build it himself. I guess there was no time limit put on construction because it seems to be going at a snail's pace. It looks exactly the same as it did when I came here for the garden club meeting. I met Percy that day too, by the way."
"Yes, I know Percy. He's been into the station occasionally to complain about this and that. Usually just trivial things like the trash men leaving the cans too far in the street and barking dogs. He's what one might call a curmudgeon. That's why I'm surprised he's building that long fence himself. I can't really picture him out there swinging a sledge hammer or pouring cement."
Briggs unlocked the door. The house was stifling hot and the smell of bacon scented the room. "This has been my first chance to get to Jenny's house. We've been trying to track down her sister. She lives in Australia. She's the only next of kin."
Briggs left the front door ajar to allow some fresh air to flow through. We split off. I was still thinking about the pie so I went to the refrigerator. Sure enough, the remainder of the bakery pie was sitting inside the fridge on one of Jenny's pretty porcelain plates. Even when she was trying to expose a cheater, she did it with quaint, sweet style.
"Are you looking for something in particular?" Briggs asked from the front room. He was going through her address book. "Or are you just hungry?"
I shut the refrigerator. "Funny detective man. I'm still thinking about the pie contest. The Mayfield Bakery pie is sitting in her refrigerator. She had all the evidence she needed to accuse Molly of cheating."
"My detective instinct says the pie scandal is a dead end." He flipped through the pages of the address book. "One thing you can always count on with the older generation is they keep their contacts in an address book. Jenny knew a lot of people."
"Uh huh, and my amateur detective instinct tells me the phone book is a dead end. Unless you're going to call each person and get an alibi."
"Funny amateur detective woman." He snapped the book shut. We'd somehow worked past the awkwardness brought on by the lost kiss and Olivia the X showing up. But there was still plenty to discuss about that night. For now, it was better left behind.
"What did the coroner and forensics say?" I asked. "Anything of note?"
"The bullet was old. Possibly ammo from World War II. If we had the gun that would really help."
I snapped my fingers. "Did you say World War II?"
"Yes. Do you know someone who has antique pistols?"
"I sure do. Jenny." I led him to the room. All of her cute pillows were piled on the daybed. It was a sad sight, like her lonely kids waiting for her to come home. "Her father left her a World War II artifact collection." It felt slightly disrespectful going through her prized possessions but then I reminded myself it was all to find her killer.
I opened the closet. The polished walnut box with the commemorative pistol was front and center. "Jenny gave us a little tour of her collection on Monday after the garden club meeting." I pulled forward the box and lifted the lid. Her father's collector edition Colt 1911 was missing along with four of the bullets.
I turned to Briggs. "It was here when she showed us the collection. Do you think the poor woman was shot with her father's prized possession?"
"We don't know that for sure but I'd say it's highly possible. Who else was here the day she showed you her collection."
I thought back quickly. It was only three days earlier but so much had happened since then, I had to picture the scene inside the room. "Well, there was me." I looked pointedly at him. "And Molly, the pie cheater. Carla was here. She seemed more interested in the embroidered pillows than the war memorabilia." Another name popped into my head. I inadvertently slapped Briggs' shoulder in my excitement. "Oops. I just remembered, Percy Troy showed up just as Jenny was showing us the collection. He saw the gun too. I have to say he didn't seem as angry as I would have expected considering he'd lost a court battle with Jenny. He was polite and genuinely interested in seeing the collection."
"What happened next? After she showed you the collection?"
"I needed to get back to work. The others were still looking at the stuff when I left. But Jenny walked me to the door to see me out."
"So everyone else was left alone in this room?"
"Well, not alone. They were all in here together." My shoulders dropped. "Sorry I can't tell you who left last. Darn it. That would have saved us a lot of time and trouble."
"You can't blame yourself. It's not like you could've predicted that someone would steal Jenny's gun and later kill her with that same stolen gun. You might very well have given us our list of possible suspects though. I'll come back with gloves and an evidence bag for the box." We walked down the hallway. "One thing is for certain, I want to talk to Percy Troy."
Chapter 28
Briggs gathered the empty box from Jenny's collection and put it in the trunk of his car. I stayed on Jenny's property as Briggs went to talk to Percy Troy. I didn't have any good reason for tagging along and decided not to intrude. In addition, Percy saw me the day of the garden club. He knew I'd been standing in the back room looking at the collection too.
I decided to turn on the hose and water some of the desperate looking flowers in the front yard. I held the hose over the soil beneath the sweet peas. I was still stunned that the gun had been stolen right out from under Jenny's nose. Who would be sinister and cold enough to steal Jenny's inherited gun and eventually kill her with it? It showed a good deal of premeditation on the part of the murderer. Was it symbolic? Did the person
hope Jenny would see the gun before it fired so that the last thing she saw was the barrel of her dad's prized commemorative Colt? Only that wouldn't have happened because the cowardly killer shot Jenny in the back. Maybe it was good that she hadn't faced down her nemesis, if for no other reason, she didn't have to die knowing it was her dad's gun and bullet. Molly had a harsh personality but even she didn't seem to be that cruel.
A loud knock brought my attention over to Percy's porch. It seemed he wasn't at home. Or maybe he was hiding in a back room avoiding a direct conversation with Detective Briggs.
"Hello?" a voice yelled from out in the field.
It was neither. Percy Troy was standing at the end of the long stone wall. He had a sledge hammer leaned against his shoulder. His cap and shirt were stained with sweat. He took off his work gloves and walked toward the houses.
"Briggs," I called to the front porch. "Percy is out there working on the wall."
I turned off the hose and followed Briggs out to meet Percy as he hiked in with his sledge hammer. He wiped his forehead with the back of his forearm and blotted his neck with a bandana he pulled from his pocket. He reached us and took off his thick glasses. A piece of cloth was tucked into his shirt pocket. He proceeded to wipe the lenses.
"Were you looking for me, Detective Briggs?" Percy asked.
"Yes, Mr. Troy. If you have a minute, I need to ask you some questions. It's about the death of your neighbor, Jenny Ripley."
"I figured as much. I'm surprised you only just got out here."
"Yes, well we we've been working on notifying next of kin."
"Jenny doesn't have many of those." Percy put his glasses back on. They made his eyes look giant, like the one's Carla wore. "Terrible tragedy. Still can't believe it." He added a tongue click for good measure.
"Mr. Troy, did you attend the fireworks show down at the marina on the fourth?"
A dry laugh shot from his mouth. He stopped it quickly, apparently deciding it wasn't appropriate in this setting. "Excuse me for that. I never go. It's too loud. Too crowded. Besides, I can see the whole thing just fine from my front porch and I don't even have to look for parking."
Dahlias and Death Page 12
