Briggs wrote something down. Percy stretched his neck up to try and see what was written. "So you were here the whole night?"
"Yep. About half past eight, I made myself some popcorn and came out here to watch the show."
"Was anyone else here?"
"Nope, just me and my parakeet, Timber. He stayed inside. He doesn't like loud noises. I had to cover his cage before the explosions started."
Briggs looked around. The houses were far apart. The neighbor he was closest to was Jenny. She had obviously not been at home.
"Mr. Troy, can you think of anyone at all who might have seen you here on your porch between eight and nine?"
Percy wiped his forehead again as he scrunched it into deep lines. "No. Why? I'm not a suspect am I? I know we fought about that darn wall, but Jenny's been a pleasant, good neighbor. She used to bring me cookies. I always rolled her garbage out to the road. Even did it this week."
"You're not a suspect," Briggs said calmly. "But we are trying to narrow down a list of people who might have had a motive and the opportunity to kill Jenny Ripley."
"Well, I hope you catch them. I'd sure like to know how a woman could get shot in the middle of a crowded holiday festival. Maybe you boys down at the station need to be more vigilant." Briggs had stepped on a nerve, and Percy was on defense. Just like Molly and Carla had become instantly defensive about his line of questioning.
"Yes, thank you for the advice, Mr. Troy."
I could always count on a cool as a cucumber response from Detective Briggs.
Briggs tapped his notebook with his pen. "By the way, Mr. Troy. Did you see Jenny's collection of World War II artifacts?"
Percy's giant bug eyes rolled my direction. "Yes. She was there too." he pointed rudely at me. "And Molly from down the street and that other woman, the tall one."
"Carla," I supplied the name for him.
"Yes, that's the name. I'd come over to ask Jenny about the fencing material I was choosing. She mentioned that she was showing her friends the collection. I told her I was interested in antique guns so she invited me in to have a look. That Colt 1911 is a beauty." His eyes seemed to shift upward with an idea. "I wonder if they'll be having an estate sale with all her things. I'd sure love to get my hands on that Colt."
Briggs cleared his throat. "Hardly the time to talk about that, Mr. Troy."
Percy looked properly chastised. He dropped his face and kicked lightly at some dirt. "Of course. You're right."
A car turned the corner onto Maplewood Road. I recognized it as Molly's. She turned into her driveway. Briggs still had a few questions for Percy, so I decided to stroll down a few houses and chat with Molly. My intuition told me she had something to do with the case. I wasn't sure why I felt it. I just did.
Chapter 29
Molly looked less than pleased to see me as she stepped out of her car. She immediately glanced past me toward Jenny's house and blanched when she saw Detective Briggs' car out front.
"What's going on, Lacey? Are they arresting Percy?"
I reached her and instantly noted that she smelled like vanilla. She also seemed agitated, like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Her cheeks were flushed as if she'd just run around the block.
"No arrest. Detective Briggs is just talking to him." Molly was in the room when Jenny displayed her dad's Colt. She was still there with Percy and Carla when Jenny walked me out. I tried to read her expression, but her shifty eyes and occasional nervous lick of the lips made it impossible. She wasn't acting herself. And Briggs was so quick to end my theory about the pie contest motive.
"Why? Do you think Percy had something to do with Jenny's murder?" I asked. I knew the answer, of course. She was quick to toss his name out as a suspect when Briggs questioned her the night of the murder.
Air blew from her lips. "Who else could it be? I can't tell you how often he complained to me about having to put up that new fence and how his property was losing value in the process. They fought over that fence for a year before Jenny took him to court. I can tell you things got pretty nasty between them for awhile."
"Really? Percy mentioned that other than the fence issue, Jenny and he were good neighbors. He rolled her garbage can out for her just this week."
"That's only because Jenny kept her can right near his bedroom window. In the summer, he could smell it through his screen. He took it out early so he wouldn't have to smell it."
"So Jenny didn't bring him cookies on occasion?"
"I'm sure she did. You know Jenny, she made a big batch of her oatmeal raisin cookies every month. She always gave a plate to everyone on the street." Molly reached into her car for her purse. As she straightened, I caught another whiff of vanilla or something pretending to be vanilla. "That's why I can't believe someone would kill her. Just doesn't make sense."
She pushed her hair away and hung the purse on her shoulder. As her hair swept back, I noticed a pink mark on her neck. My high school years were behind me, but I could still recognize a hickey when I saw one. Molly quickly pulled her hair down over her neck to cover it. I knew very little about Molly's personal life except that she was no longer married and she had two kids in college. It seemed now I knew more than I wanted to know.
"Did they get a hold of Jenny's sister?" Molly asked.
"I think so."
"I wonder what will happen with her house. I hope they don't sell it to some developer. This is a nice, quiet street." Molly was just as callous as Percy talking about the house like he talked about the gun. Jenny had sure deserved better neighbors. I would have mentioned something about it being too early to talk about the sale of Jenny's house, but something told me Molly wouldn't feel the least bit contrite about it.
"Molly, remember when we were looking at Jenny's World War II collection?"
She shifted on her feet, reminding me of Kingston when he had done something naughty. "Yes. Why do you ask?"
It wasn't my place to mention the stolen gun, but I tried to work around that to see if she remembered the details of that afternoon.
"Jenny walked me out. Percy, Carla and you stayed behind in the room."
Molly glanced toward her house. "Is that my phone?"
"I didn't hear anything."
"I should get inside. I've got laundry to fold."
"Just real quick—do you happen to know who was last to leave that room?"
My questions were starting to irritate her. "I don't know, Lacey. I can't remember something so trivial. It might have been Percy. I certainly had no interest in that stuff," she said in a huff. "And frankly, I don't care to be questioned out here on my front yard by someone who has no authority to question me at all."
Angry and harsh from Molly I was used to but cagey, defensive and nervous? I'd never seen her like this. "You're right, of course, Molly. By the way, did you have fun baking today?" I took a whiff. "Sugar cookies?"
Molly looked utterly baffled by my question. "I don't know what you're talking about. I rarely bake, and I certainly wasn't making sugar cookies on a hot July day."
I grinned at her for a second to see if she caught her own misstep. She was too flustered by the entire conversation.
She'd given me my in. "Interesting how someone who rarely bakes is always ready to enter a pie in the pie contest."
"Clearly, I meant cookies. What are you implying anyhow?"
"Jenny found out that you were using the Mayfield Bakery apple pie for your entry."
Her nostrils flared. I wondered if I'd stepped too far.
"It's hardly a motive to kill someone," she snapped. "It was just a stupid pie contest. No reward except a blue ribbon. Maybe you should talk to the person who loses the contest every year. Carla enters every year, and she loses every year. Maybe she was mad at Jenny for always picking my pie."
"You mean the Mayfield Bakery pie?"
I'd stepped on the final nerve.
"As I said before, I have chores to do." Molly held her purse against her. A hint of vanilla
wafted along with her as she sidled past me.
I headed across to Jenny's front yard. Briggs was standing alone under the shade of the porch writing down a few notes. He looked up as I approached. His hair looked slightly wild in the breeze traveling up from the shore. Wild was a good look on him.
I met him in the porch shade. The sweet peas were giving off their candy scent in appreciation for being watered. "Find anything of interest to write down in that cute little notepad of yours?"
His lip turned up on one side at my choice of adjectives in regards to his official notebook. "I've got a few details in my cute little notebook. From what Percy remembered, they all left the back room with the closet where the gun was stored about the same time. He said there was a short conversation between Jenny and Carla about having Jenny make Halloween pillows for Carla, but they left the room together. He can't remember who closed the box or the closet door. He thought it might have been Jenny." He looked up. "That was Molly Brookhauser you were talking to, right?"
"Yes, the pie contest cheat. She is sort of an unpleasant woman, but she was acting particularly defensive and snippy today."
"Maybe she felt as if she was being interrogated," Briggs suggested.
I placed a hand against my chest. "Me? I would never be so obvious. She was doing a lot of shuffling and lip licking like she was hiding something. Without letting her know the gun had been stolen, I asked if she remembered who left the room last after we looked at the collection. She thought it might have been Percy, but she didn't put a lot of effort into remembering details of that day. I suppose I might have made her feel as if she was being, you know, like you said."
"Interrogated?"
"I don't know if I'd use that word. Interrogation always conjures images of harsh lights and stern looking cops ready to brow beat you to blurting the answer they're looking for. Let's just say she felt 'put upon'."
Briggs chuckled and shook his head. "Put upon," he repeated quietly for another laugh. We headed toward the car.
"I confronted her about the pie cheating contest," I said.
"No wonder she felt 'put upon'." He opened the passenger door for me and walked around to the driver's side.
"She provided me with the ideal segue," I continued as he sat in the driver's seat. "I asked her if she'd been baking because she had this odd scent of vanilla on her clothes. She snootily answered that she rarely baked."
Briggs started the car. "The pie contest winner doesn't bake. Guess that was a good slip of the tongue."
"It was. So I thought, why not bring up the store bought pie."
He tilted his head side to side. "Makes sense. Still the pie motive is thin, at best. Now I need to see if the bullets in that box match the one Blankenship found in Jenny. That way we'll know for certain the murderer used her father's Colt."
Chapter 30
The afternoon visit to Jenny's house had proved fruitful. It had also lightened some of the tension between Briggs and me. It almost felt as if the whole thing was behind us. Even though I knew it wasn't. The last thing I expected after feeling at ease all afternoon was for Briggs to bring it up.
"Lacey, I need to talk to you about the other night. After the picnic," he said to clarify, though it wasn't really necessary.
I'd been brushing off his attempts and avoiding it like a silly kid. It was time to drop the stalling tactics. I looked over at him. He was staring straight ahead as he drove along Culpepper Road back to town.
"Since my only escape is jumping from a moving car, I suppose I can listen this time."
He reached up and tugged lightly at his collar to loosen it. "As Olivia mentioned, we were married for a brief time."
"Brief time?" I asked.
"Just over a year. We were a couple in high school."
"Let me guess—football quarterback and head cheerleader?"
He cleared his throat. "Something like that. I'd convinced myself it was true love and meant to be and all that foolish stuff you can believe when you're eighteen. I proposed right after graduation. We married quickly after that. Not sure what the rush was except I was heading off to the police academy and I just thought I needed to be married. Maybe to show I could handle being a grown up. Not sure what I was thinking."
"Lots of people get married to their high school sweetheart."
He turned the corner at the town square, but instead of heading to the station he parked under some trees and opened the windows so we could talk. "That's just it. The more I think about it, Olivia wasn't really my sweetheart. She was popular and extremely beautiful."
I shrugged. "I don't know if I'd use the qualifier extremely but she is beautiful."
He smiled. "Yes, I learned the hard way the more you know about her, the less beautiful she is. Besides, it's the woman's character and personality that count most."
I turned slightly to the side and gave him a raised brow. "Said no man ever in the history of men. And I think if I deeply analyze that statement, I might be somewhat offended."
His brown eyes widened. "What? No. Wow, I'm making a mess of this." He did something I wasn't expecting, and it knocked the wind from me. He took hold of my hand. "Lacey, when I see you, my whole day lights up no matter the weather. You have to know that."
I could feel a warm blush start at my neck and work its way to the top of my head. "I'm always happy to see you too, James. Even if most of the time there is a dead body between us."
He smiled as he released my hand. I could still feel the warmth of it on my palm. "Not the best of circumstances for cultivating a relationship."
I blinked at him. "Is that what this is then?"
His throat moved with a nervous swallow. It was nice to see that the question was so important to him he was thrown off his usual cool, calm balance beam. "That's what I'm hoping for. What about you?"
I rolled my chin back and forth to let him know I was thinking about it. Though I really wasn't. I'd been hoping to finally break through the friendship only barrier for some time. It seemed we were finally at that point. "Yes, it's what I want, but I need to know, James. What happened between you and Olivia? Was it just your youth and jumping into something straight out of high school?" I was digging. Maybe it wasn't my place to do so, but it seemed important to understand.
Whatever the truth was, it must have been a doozy because he shifted in his seat and stared out through the windshield at nothing in particular. I was just about to give up thinking I would learn about his marriage breakup when he took a deep breath and turned to me.
"This will clear up more than one mystery," he said. "Dash and I were not just acquaintances in high school. We were best friends."
"I gathered that."
Briggs looked surprised. "Really?"
"You can't have a deep seated dislike for someone, unless, at some point in time, you had a strong affection for the person. And believe me—deep seated doesn't even touch the surface. I can't even bring up his name without red flames shooting out of your ears."
"My ears do not shoot flames. Although, as a kid I used to wish that I could shoot them from my nose like a dragon. And I'm sorry for acting like such a numbskull. I think seeing Olivia again has made me realize, I need to let the anger go."
I looked out toward the marina where Dash worked. I couldn't see him on any boats but then it was early evening. He was probably at home hiding, trying to avoid my mom. I turned back to Briggs.
"So the end of the marriage had something to do with Dash?" He didn't need to respond. The latent hurt and betrayal was in his eyes. "Guess I don't need too much imagination to connect those dots," I said. "I'm sorry, James." My opinion of Dash had just taken a sharp turn south. "I thought better of Dash. It seems I've been mistaken."
"No, Lacey. That's not why I told you. I don't want this to ruin your friendship with Dash. This is not all on him. And a lot of time has passed. I never thought I'd have to talk about it or bring it up to you, then Olivia showed up out of the blue."
I turned m
ore to look at him. I contemplated telling him that I saw Dash and Olivia having coffee but quickly put an end to the idea. "And exactly why did Olivia show up?"
"Her uncle's funeral. She lives on the east coast now with her husband. A lawyer in a big firm. Definitely more suited to her than a high school quarterback heading to the police academy."
Was there hurt or regret in his tone? I couldn't tell. He was always so blasted calm about everything. At least now I knew she hadn't come back to rekindle an old flame.
I laughed. "This is totally embarrassing to admit, but I actually allowed myself to consider that I was the source of your animosity toward each other. I think Lola and Elsie kept putting that in my head. I let this head grow big and bloated enough to occasionally believe it." I turned forward. "There you go, humiliating confession time over."
Briggs was staring at the side of my face. I stared straight ahead, not wanting to make eye contact quite yet.
"I've got news for you, Miss Pinkerton, you were a big source of our renewed anger. Dash and I have hardly seen or spoken to each other for years. I never even gave him much thought anymore, and I know he never gave me a second thought either. Then Lacey Pinkerton showed up to town and old wounds reopened. But I promise to do better."
I turned to him. "You're not just making this up because of your extremely beautiful ex-wife?"
"Would I lie?"
"I guess not since you're a detective and all. I should get back. Mom is at Elsie's bakery. They are making petite fours together."
"Petty what's?"
"Petit fours. Cute little cakes." I held up my fingers to show the approximate size of a petit four."
He squinted at the space between my fingers. "It should be a crime to make a cake that small. They are getting along, then? Elsie and your mom?"
"Gosh, I hope so. I'm counting on Elsie to be the more mature of the two."
Dahlias and Death Page 13
