Final Chapter: A Megan Montaigne Mystery (Megan Montaigne Mysteries)

by Pam Stucky

  “Thanks,” said Megan, taking a sip. “He was going to this morning, until he had to go off to Courtney’s.” She put her burger down, her stomach feeling too unsettled to eat any more. “Rae, you have to keep me updated. I don’t know how you find things out but you always do. If you hear anything, call me. You have to let me know because Max thinks I’m a suspect and won’t tell me anything.”

  Rae hesitated.

  “Rae!” said Megan, her eyes rolling. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know I wouldn’t kill anyone. If you hear anything, call me.”

  The pub owner stood and indicated Megan should stand, too. Rae then pulled Megan in for a hug, surprising Megan. Hugs were not Rae’s thing. But the hug was sincere and Megan sank into it and suddenly found herself starting to cry. She only let the tears flow for a few seconds before she stopped them: everything will be fine. Everything will be okay.

  After many long moments, and feeling much calmer, Megan pulled away. “Thanks, Rae.”

  “I will call you if I hear anything,” Rae said. “You are going to be fine.” She looked at the half-eaten burger on the plate. “All my extra effort and you’re leaving that behind? That they should put you in jail for.”

  Megan laughed. “Sorry.” She felt a vibration in her pocket and pulled out her phone, thinking it must be Lily, but it was a text from Owen: “You around? Call me.”

  “Owen lives in Rockport,” Megan said, holding up her phone for Rae to read. “He must have heard. I’m going to head over there. I can’t stand to go back to the library right now.” She grabbed her coat and purse and gave Rae another quick hug. “You’ll call me if you hear anything, right?”

  Rae nodded. “Of course I will. You hang in there. And you call me if you hear anything, too.”

  Megan laughed. “You’ll know before I do! Okay. I’ll talk to you soon.” She double-checked her seat to make sure she’d left nothing behind, and ran out the door.

  “Ugh!” Megan said, remembering that she’d left her car at home. “Dang it!” She called Owen, but he didn’t pick up his phone so she left a message that she was on her way. She then jogged the short way back to the library, skipping the scenic route past the park. She got into her car without going inside the building, noting that the swarm of police cars was still there. Sylvie and Wade’s car was gone; they must have already left for the memorial. The ambulance was gone, as well, and likely Emlyn’s body along with it.

  After checking her phone for Owen’s address, Megan drove quickly to the nearby town of Rockport. When she got to Owen’s house, he opened the front door before she could even get out of her car.

  “Been waiting for me?” Megan said as she walked up the broken, moss-covered walkway.

  Owen looked like he was about to burst. “You heard?” he said, standing aside so Megan could enter his house.

  The home was immaculate, far cleaner than she expected, but then, she figured, it made sense that he would be a clean fanatic. The furniture was sparse but in good repair: a long black leather couch, two mismatched chairs, and a low glass-topped coffee table with nothing littering its sparkling top. But Megan didn’t sit, and neither did Owen.

  “I heard,” Megan said breathlessly. “You heard about Emlyn?”

  The look of surprise gave Megan her answer. “Emlyn? No, what happened?” Owen said.

  “Dead,” said Megan, thinking how cold and callous the word sounded. “This can’t be a coincidence.”

  Owen dropped into one of the chairs. “You are kidding me,” he said. “Where? How?”

  “We found her in her room this morning. Owen, are you always sure to lock all the doors at the library when you leave? Like, do you have a system to remind you?”

  At this, Owen’s face turned slightly red. “No, honestly.” He paused. “I guess in the back of my head I figure you live there so you’ll check everything after we’re all gone.” He shook his head, angry with himself. “That was stupid. I mean, I lock up, yes, but I’ve never worried about it too much.”

  “Someone got in,” said Megan, still standing. “Do you know where Courtney’s house is?” she asked. “I want to talk to Max.”

  “Yeah,” said Owen. “It’s right around the corner. There are only a couple of streets in town. Hard not to know where someone lives.”

  “Can you take me there?” Megan said.

  “Sure,” said Owen. He grabbed his coat and led Megan out the door, careful to lock it behind him. “This is insane,” he said.

  They walked a few hundred feet and turned down another small road. Megan instantly knew which house was Courtney’s by the gathering of police cars outside, slightly smaller than the number of cars at the library. There was no ambulance, so Megan assumed Courtney’s body had already been taken away, as well.

  Looking around, her eyes finally found Max, who was talking to a policewoman.

  “Max!” Megan called out as she approached him, Owen following along behind her. A mixture of emotions crossed Max’s face before he put on the professional mask again, and Megan felt disheartened. She reminded herself of what Rae said: he was just doing his job, and that was part of what she loved about him. He had integrity. He was fair. And he would be fair in this, as well. She just needed to trust him.

  “Max,” she said again, stopping and acknowledging the policewoman with a nod. The officer nodded back, exchanged a look with Max, and left. Megan continued. “You have to check for something in there.” She looked toward Courtney’s house. It was small but freshly painted, with a trim garden out front and a bright red front door that was propped open to let the forensics team move about freely.

  “Megan. What do we need to check for?” said Max. Megan realized his expression was not unkind or indifferent, but it was definitely closed.

  “When they were taking evidence out of Emlyn’s room, they took the gift basket.”

  “I’m sorry, Megan. We have to.”

  “I know, I know,” Megan said, waving her hand. “But I saw what was in the basket, and there was something in there that I hadn’t put in it. There were these biscuits, like little savory biscuits, some sort of herb in them. I don’t know what they were, but we didn’t make them. I don’t know if it matters, but maybe, if these murders are related …”

  Max nodded. “Okay, thanks, Megan. I’ll have the team check. Anything else?”

  Megan swallowed. “Do they know yet what killed either of them? Did they have a guess?”

  Max glanced up at the clouds. “They agree it was poison, probably,” he said.

  “Both of them?”

  “Both of them.”

  Megan felt a surge of fear-laced adrenaline.

  “I can’t talk more right now, Megan,” said Max, “but I’ll come by this afternoon. Will you be at home?”

  The idea of going back to the library was horrible, but she wasn’t sure where else she would go. “I’ll be there. Let me know when you’re coming in case I’m out.”

  Max put his hand on Megan's shoulder and looked her in the eyes. “Thanks, Megan.” His signature smile was missing, but the gesture felt somehow reassuring nonetheless. Max walked back to the police officer he’d been talking to earlier, leaving Megan and Owen behind.

  “Biscuits?” said Owen. “You think they were killed by biscuits?”

  Megan shook her head. “I don’t know, Owen.” She felt a buzz in her pocket again and looked at her phone. This time, it was Lily. “Rae filled me in,” Lily had texted. “Where are you?”

  “Over at Rockport,” Megan texted back.

  “Meet this afternoon?” Lily texted.

  “Yes,” Megan replied. “Will let you know when I’m home.”

  She turned to Owen. “I’ve got to go. If you hear anything, call me.” She felt like that’s all she’d been saying all day. One of these days, she thought, I hope I get some answers.

  FIFTEEN

  When Megan arrived back at the library, the last of the police vehicles was just about to leave. The short woman she’d se
en upstairs earlier stood by the car, writing on a small pad of paper. Megan parked, and walked over to her.

  “Hi, again,” Megan said. “All done inside?”

  The woman looked Megan over before answering. “All done,” she said. She tucked the pad of paper into one of her pockets. “Please don’t go in the room until you hear from us.”

  “Okay,” said Megan, starting to think about what kind of cleaning the room might need, and whether she would be able to convince the library board to let her hire someone to do it. Lily, maybe. Lily could handle that sort of thing. The messes she had had to clean up on occasion at her B&B were legendary.

  The woman turned back to her car.

  “Wait,” said Megan, “I’m just wondering, do you know anything yet? What happened? Anything you can tell me?”

  Over her shoulder, the woman said, “Nothing we can tell you, ma’am.” She got into her car and left.

  Standing and watching the car drive off to the main road, Megan noticed the library grounds seemed suddenly quiet. After only a week, she’d already adjusted to having more people around. Sylvie and Wade were still at the tiny roadside church saying their final goodbyes to Romy. Emlyn, well, Emlyn wouldn’t be coming back, either. The police and forensics team were all gone now. The library was closed for the day. The sun was sparkling off the river; the water whispering and burbling as it raced by, telling its secrets to anyone who knew how to listen. In shadier areas of the lawn, dew still gleamed on the glass. An unseen bald eagle in the distance gave out its distinctive, sharp, high-pitched call. All around her, the world was calm.

  Megan took a deep breath and exhaled.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Lily had joined Megan up on her balcony and the two were sipping tea while playing a game of cribbage. Lily had brought the game over to help Megan keep her mind off of everything. “Steve never plays cribbage with me,” Lily said, after moving her peg once more, far ahead of Megan's. “Your shuffle.”

  “Because you always win,” Megan said. She picked up all the cards and tapped them against her leg to straighten them before shuffling and dealing out the cards again. “So what’s the latest with all the fans?” she said, frowning at the hand she’d dealt herself as she tried to decide which cards to lay away. With a resigned grimace, she picked two and turned them face down on the table between her and Lily.

  Lily quickly picked her own two cards and lay them face down as well. “Most of them have gone home,” she said. “Just one room still in use. A guy who is convinced Romy was trying to communicate to him through her books. He says she coded secret messages to him which, if read in the right order, revealed her true feelings.” She lay a card on the table. “Four,” she said.

  “And those feelings were?” Megan said, playing a seven. “Eleven,” she said.

  “True love, of course,” Lily said. She lay down a four. “Fifteen for two,” she said, and moved her peg on the board.

  “Of course,” said Megan. She studied her hand. She was distracted and not paying attention and, she thought, just not in the mood. “Twenty-two,” she said, laying down an eight.

  “You mean twenty-three,” said Lily, looking at her own hand. She lay down another eight. “Thirty-one for two, and a pair for two.” She moved her peg again.

  “So,” Lily said. “Max came by my house. That’s why I was later than planned.”

  Megan gasped lightly. “He did? To ask you about the gift basket?”

  “Yeah,” said Lily. “What I’d made, what I’d bought, when I’d bought it, where I bought it, what the recipes were, what you’d put in the basket, whether I’d seen you put anything in when you thought I wasn’t looking, whether I was still there when you put the baskets out for the guests, on and on and on.”

  Megan absentmindedly ruffled the edges of the unplayed cards. “What did you tell him?” she said.

  “The truth,” said Lily. She shrugged. “I mean, what else could I tell him? The truth doesn’t lead to you. I know that and you know that.”

  “Or you,” said Megan.

  Lily blinked. “No, I guess not. I suppose I didn’t realize I was a suspect.”

  “You thought only I was?” said Megan.

  “Well, it’s just that I know I’m innocent. So I guess that’s why I didn’t think I’m a suspect.”

  “But you know I’m innocent, too, right?” Megan said, a slight edge to her voice.

  “Of course,” said Lily. “Of course I know that. I can’t prove that. But of course I know that.”

  Megan said nothing, her mind in turmoil. They played a while longer before taking a break. Finally, Megan looked at the clock. “Four thirty.” She gave Lily a meaningful gaze.

  Lily laughed, knowing full well what that particular gaze meant. “I mean, it’s five o’clock somewhere, and it’s almost five here. I say yes. Bring out the wine.” She followed Megan into the kitchen, where Megan chose a Riesling from the refrigerator.

  “What time do you need to get back?” Megan asked, opening the bottle and pouring the bright liquid into two glasses.

  Lily glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall. “Well, maybe an hour. Steve knows all of this has been hard on you, and there’s only that one crazy guest, anyway. I should be home by six, though. What time is Max coming by?”

  Megan pushed the cork back into the bottle tightly and returned it to the refrigerator. “Honestly, I thought he’d be here by now. I wonder …” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Argh, I missed his text. He’ll be here at five.” She looked at the clock again.

  “Hmm,” said Lily. “Well, he probably won’t want me here while he talks with you. Good thing I walked over,” she said, drinking her full glass of wine in one big gulp.

  “Lily!” Megan laughed. “Good thing indeed! Want another glass? One for the road?” She reached for the refrigerator handle.

  Lily wiped her mouth. “No, I’d better go so you have time to get ready. Call me when it’s over. Just tell the truth. It’ll all be fine.” She pulled Megan in for a brief hug, then held her at arms’ length and looked into her eyes. “You will be fine. Right?”

  “Right, boss,” said Megan. “I’ll call you.”

  * * *

  Max declined to interview Megan on the balcony, “As nice as it is out there, I’m sure.” So instead, they were sitting at Megan's kitchen table. If Max was feeling as awkward as Megan was, he wasn’t showing it.

  “Everything coming along okay?” Megan asked. She wished he would open up and give her something, some clue, but clearly, things had changed since that morning.

  “The team is great,” said Max. “They’re working hard.”

  “Any more news on Romy?” said Megan. “I was thinking, did Courtney write checks to herself, too? Or was it just Emlyn? You’d think that if she was writing checks—”

  “Megan,” Max interrupted. “I have to ask you some questions.” He tapped on his tablet and looked up, his face revealing nothing.

  “Okay,” said Megan. She folded her hands in front of her, then hugged her arms to herself.

  “Can you tell me about the gift baskets?” Max asked.

  Megan tried to recall, down to the smallest detail. How she’d been trying to be a good hostess, and put something nice together since she’d sort of been neglecting everyone, and how she’d gone to the store and bought some items but the baskets had still seemed bare and empty, so she’d called Lily for help, and how Lily, of course, always came to the rescue.

  “You didn’t make anything homemade for the baskets? Or provide anything other than store-bought items?”

  “No,” said Megan.

  “And Lily, what exactly did she include?”

  “Well, there was potpourri—”

  “I mean the homemade items.”

  “The potpourri was homemade.”

  “Just the food, then,” said Max. “Homemade food.”

  “I think only the cookies,” Megan said. “Those biscuits that were in the ba
sket, we didn’t—”

  “What kind of cookies?” Max asked.

  Megan wracked her brain for a minute before coming up with an answer. “Lemon rosemary shortbread,” she said. “I’m pretty sure that’s what she told me.”

  “And you’re sure it was rosemary?” Max said.

  Megan was taken aback. “I mean, that’s what she told me,” Megan said. “I didn’t check. There was no reason not to believe her.”

  “So you didn’t eat any of them?” Max asked.

  A chill ran across the back of Megan's neck. She frowned. “No, why? I’m sure, I mean I don’t—you can’t…” She stopped. What was Max getting at? Lily? Certainly not.

  “When did you last empty your garbage?” Max asked, looking toward the kitchen sink. “Is it under there?”

  “Uh … yes … I guess Tuesday? Garbage day is Wednesday, so …”

  “So not since you made up the gift baskets?” Max asked.

  “No, not since then,” Megan said.

  Max got up and went over to the kitchen sink. From his pocket, he pulled out a large bag and blue gloves. After putting the gloves on, he reached into the cabinet under Megan's sink, and pulled the garbage bag out of the trash can. Struggling a bit, he put the garbage bag into the bag he’d brought, and then sealed it up tight.

  Megan felt as though she’d been drained of breath and blood. She couldn’t make her tongue work to speak.

  “Sorry, Megan,” said Max, and it did look like he was truly sorry. He peeled off the gloves and, realizing there was now no trash can to throw them into, put them back in his pocket. Taking a deep breath, he looked Megan straight in the eyes. His gaze was not unkind, but it was firm. “Don’t leave town, okay? We just need to get this all figured out.”

  Numbly, Megan gave the smallest shake to her head. “I’ll be here,” she said quietly, and Max let himself out.