“Is it about Bradley Perkins?” Mrs. Shedd asked. “I told Joshua all about handing over the money to Bradley.” She looked down and added she’d mentioned using the bookstore’s line of credit, too.
I swallowed and told Mrs. Shedd that I knew for sure that Bradley’s suicide had been a fake and I’d seen him alive. Her eyes brightened, but only for a moment. Once I told her the rest of it, her face fell.
“How awful for you,” she said. Then she sighed. “Well, I suppose that really closes the door on the whole situation.” She explained Mr. Royal had convinced her she ought to go to the SEC investigators and show them her paperwork in the event they did recover any of the money. “Joshua was very understanding. He said, thick or thin, we were in it together,” she said. Just mentioning Mr. Royal’s name brought a flush to her face. I was glad that she’d straightened things out with him since there seemed to be a strong bond between them.
“It sounds like a pretty open-and-shut case that his wife did it,” Mrs. Shedd said.
“No question that Detective Hea—Gilmore thinks she’s the guy. But I’m not completely sure. Maybe it’s because I know her, but I just can’t imagine her stabbing him. There must be a lot of people angry enough to kill him.” I prepared to offer a list, but Adele cut me off.
“Nancy Sherlock Fletcher Drew, I think you’re losing your touch.” Adele gave me a disparaging look. “You said yourself that it was empty up there except for the four of you. It wasn’t you or Dinah, was it? That leaves the wife.”
Mrs. Shedd ended the line of conversation by saying she appreciated what I’d done, but at this point, who did what to Bradley wasn’t my responsibility anyway. She opened the door. “We need to focus on the Anthony launch party. It’s probably going to be the biggest event in the bookstore’s history. The eyes of the world will be on us, ladies. Whatever happens after, let’s make this a shining moment for Shedd and Royal Books and More. Not to mention helping our holiday shoppers in the meantime.” She waved us back into the main part of the store.
The store was busy for a night with no event. Forcing myself to shut out all thoughts of what I had witnessed, I paused and surveyed the main area. The two young men hired for the holidays were at the help table aiding customers. Rayaad was at her station at the cashier stand. In addition to the young men, Mrs. Shedd had hired Rayaad’s older daughter and she was manning a second cashier stand. The café alcove was busy, too. I looked over the customers. “Isn’t Mr. Royal here?” I said to Adele before she went to the kids’ department.
She turned back just long enough to say, “He left around the same time you did this afternoon. I don’t know where he was going. Nobody tells me anything.”
I supposed Mr. Royal was entitled to some time off. Besides it was none of my business.
The exhausted feeling I had from the afternoon’s events began to go away and I got a second wind. I was glad to occupy my mind with looking over the list of news people covering the vampire book launch. The local TV stations, CNN and all the entertainment shows were supposed to be sending someone to cover the midnight signing of Caught Under the Mistletoe, Blood and Yarn #3. I knew it was all theater, but I loved the drama of it all. And I couldn’t wait to find out if William really was A. J. Kowalski. I still needed to get some confirmations, but it was too late in the day now, so I set the folder away and checked to see if any customers needed help.
Everyone seemed to be doing okay, so I went back to the yarn department. I’d finally gotten the owl’s head right and wanted to start the body, but the swatches were work related. I took out the knitting needles and a ball of red mohair and started casting on. I was getting a little better at it. Once I had enough stitches I began to knit. I was using large needles and the rows came out loose and lacy.
“When did you start knitting?” Detective Heather said, walking into the yarn department. She stopped at the table and fingered my work.
I mentioned my being in charge of the department and our intention of having swatches on all the bins. I put down my work and offered to help her with yarn. Not that I thought shopping was the real reason she was here. I was right. She’d barely picked up a skein of multicolored sock yarn before she brought up Bradley.
“You haven’t decided that I’m the guy, have you?” I said.
“No, Molly. I don’t see you as the stabbing type. You’re too wishy-washy. Stabbing takes decisive action. You’d think about it too long.”
I wasn’t sure if I should thank her or not, but I was glad not to be a suspect. Been there, done that and didn’t like it.
“Your neighbor brought up an afghan,” Detective Heather said, hesitantly. Her manner instantly got my attention since it was not her usual assertive self. I got it. She felt awkward bringing up the afghan after she’d practically laughed at me when I’d told her about it when she was questioning me.
“Did Emily Perkins tell you what was so important about it?” I said.
“I’ll ask the questions,” she said curtly. “You saw her giving it to him?”
I thought back to watching them and remembered the photos on the BlackBerry. I pulled it out and flitted through them. “Here,” I said, holding it out. I think Detective Heather was expecting another cat picture by mistake and barely glanced at it. But her eyes moved back and stayed on the small pictures. She took the BlackBerry and held the screen closer.
I had captured the moment when Emily handed Bradley the backpack. After the last time, I suppose he wasn’t taking any chances. I told her to scroll forward. The next pictures showed Bradley holding up the unfolded afghan.
“That’s what the fuss is about,” she said, disappointed. On the small screen the flowers didn’t show up well.
“It’s much prettier in person.”
Detective Heather rolled her eyes at me. For a moment I thought she wasn’t going to give the BlackBerry back, saying it was evidence, but she gave it back and told me to e-mail her the photos. She stood over me while I did it. Her presence was making me tense and I was glad that I didn’t screw it up.
“I’m sure you noticed that both the backpack and afghan were missing,” I said. Her answer was a withering sigh.
“I think Emily Perkins took them with her. The backpack and afghan must have traces of her DNA, and after she stabbed him, probably his blood.” The detective looked at me to see if I was following what she said.
“Right, so they would tie her to the crime,” I said. Detective Heather walked around the yarn department.
“I can’t believe I’m actually asking for your help, but I really need to find that backpack and afghan. The murder weapon would help, too,” she muttered. “She let me look around her place, which makes me think she knew I wouldn’t find anything. Any ideas?”
We threw ideas back and forth for a moment. I suggested she might have thrown the knife by the side of the road or in a trash can. But Detective Heather nixed the idea. “I don’t think she’d take the chance of dumping it. I think she has it stashed somewhere. Keep your eyes open.”
She had stopped in front of a bin of rust-colored mohair. She picked up a skein and turned it around in her hand.
“That color would look good on you,” I said. She turned toward me and seemed surprised. My comment was personal—girlfriendish—and all of our dealings had always been on the adversarial side. For a moment she let down her guard and held the skein up near her face.
“You really think so?” I nodded and she gathered two more skeins.
“There’s a lot of tension in my job and knitting helps.” She caught herself and went back into professional mode and finished up our interview. After she left, I saw her take the yarn up to the cashier stand. The color really did look good on her.
Even though it was late when I left the bookstore, I went over to Dinah’s. I was pretty sure the news media was parked in front of the Perkins’ now that he was dead. I wasn’t up for dealing with trying to sneak past them. Besides I needed to sort out everything that had happen
ed.
I expected Dinah was having some kind of aftermath from the day, too. I knew I was right as soon as she opened the door. She had a frozen, stunned look on her face. I hadn’t realized it until now, but this was her first body.
We hugged each other and just stood there for a few moments. Then we collapsed on her couch and leaned against each other for support. With the kids there, she’d decorated and the house seemed festive with the lighted tree. The kids had made another chain from construction paper and it hung over the windows. The usually clear dining room table had crayons and art supplies spread over the top. There was a foam dreidel and a jar of gold glitter. For a moment I forgot my heavy heart and thought back to the fun of making holiday decorations with kids.
“It didn’t hit me at first,” Dinah said. “I just kept going through the motions. I picked up the kids and apologized for being late. I ordered pizza and let them watch a video. Somewhere around then I started to fall apart. I kept seeing Bradley lying there.” She shook her head as if trying to get rid of the image.
I told her about Detective Heather’s little visit. “She’s decided Emily Perkins is the guy,” I said.
“Well, she is, isn’t she? We saw her with him. And then he was dead.” Dinah said.
“I agree she had motive. The man left her with a mess. And she had means. His knife provided that. And as for opportunity, she get’s points for that, too.”
Dinah noticed me hesitating. “But you don’t think it was her, do you?”
“I agree all arrows point to her, but I don’t want it to be her,” I said.
Dinah got it. I had helped Emily get the afghan. If she had killed him, I was somehow involved. “If Emily didn’t kill him, then who did?” Dinah said, bringing up the obvious question.
I had been thinking about it. “There’s no shortage of people angry enough to want to do him in. The very top of the list is Logan Belmont. He not only lost his money but his reputation as well. Nicholas said he’d lost some money. He didn’t seem that upset, but it could have just been a cover. And what about Bradley’s sister? Who knows what’s going on with her. And you could throw in a bunch of other people.” I mentioned the woman on the news who’d lost her life savings.
“Okay, but you might have noticed there was no one up there but the four of us,” Dinah said.
I thought a moment and was about to say she had a point when I remembered something. “There was someone else,” I said excitedly. Dinah seemed surprised and wanted to know who. “I forgot all about it until now. Remember the person on a mountain bike who rode past us?” I said.
Dinah processed the information and her face lit up with recognition. “You’re right. Was it a man or a woman?”
I admitted I hadn’t really noticed. They’d been moving fast and from the back all I remembered was a helmet and dark clothes. We discussed the fact that the biker had seemed to have gone past us, but we realized they could have left the road ahead and doubled back on a trail without us seeing them. “Suppose they waited until we left, and Emily left and then made their move?” I said. Dinah nodded in agreement. I commented that it was pointless to mention any of this to Detective Heather. She had settled on Emily being the killer and nothing was going to change her mind.
“All Detective Heather cares about is gathering evidence and building a case against Emily. I bet she keeps working on her, trying to get her to confess,” I said. Dinah agreed and said something about Detective Heather being relentless.
I mentioned the girlfriend moment with Detective Heather and Dinah chuckled. I got up to leave. “It’s been a killer day,” I said.
“You can say that again.” Dinah stood and walked me to the door. She seemed to have something else on her mind. Dinah was a direct person; that was how she dealt with her students, by just confronting the problem and telling them to knock it off. Her hesitancy to speak seemed odd. Finally she sighed.
“I don’t think it’s going to work out with Commander.” She sounded wistful. I shut the door and we sat down again and I asked what the problem was.
“He was supposed to come over tonight. It wouldn’t have been the best night anyway, but he canceled. He can’t seem to understand why I am involved with my ex-husband’s kids with another woman.” Dinah leaned back and looked at her hands. “Who their parents are isn’t the point anymore. I care about the kids for themselves.” Dinah left the rest hanging, but I knew what she was thinking. We weren’t teenage girls anymore, where you dumped anything or anyone that got in the way of your boyfriend. No more pretending to like anchovy pizza, even if it made you gag, just because he did. No more changing to suit someone else. “Maybe he’ll come around,” I said. I had an idea and presented it to her. “What about this?” I said. “Maybe he’s upset because he feels like he’s getting pushed off to the side. Why don’t I babysit for you one evening and you go out with Commander—just the two of you.”
My friend’s face brightened as she accepted my offer and I finally left. All the way home I kept thinking about Emily and Bradley. Everything did point toward her being the murderer, didn’t it?
CHAPTER 22
STOPPING AT DINAH’S HAD ONLY PUT OFF THE INEVITABLE. No quiet street tonight. The news vans were out in force and a clog of people were in the street in front of the Perkins’ house. As I got closer I saw the lights trained on each of the reporters. Obviously Bradley’s death had hit the news and they were preparing for live reports for the late broadcast. As I pulled in my driveway, the attention turned in my direction and I saw several of the reporters rush over. I drove up quickly and parked in the garage, ending their pursuit. Ryder was probably out there in the midst of all the excitement.
It was a relief to get inside. The dogs made a fast trip outside before I called them in and fed them. The light was flashing on my phone, and when I checked, there were messages from Barry and Mason. Both messages were pretty much the same—they’d called my cell and I hadn’t answered. Please call.
I was talked out, exhausted and worn down from my day. I needed a little peace before I was ready to talk to anybody—even Barry and Mason. The phone rang and I thought about not answering it but finally gave in. Emily sounded frantic when I answered.
“I need to talk to you,” she said. “Some homicide detective thinks I killed Bradley. It’s nonsense. Of course I didn’t do it.” She let out a yelp of consternation. “Those reporters keep ringing the bell. Can’t they leave me alone?”
I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t just Detective Heather who thought she’d killed Bradley. Everyone I’d talked to thought she was the guy. Even though I’d expressed some doubts, it was hard for me to believe it was anyone else. Did I want to invite a possible murderer over, particularly since it was because of me that Detective Heather knew that she’d been up there with Bradley? His body might not have been found for days. In other words she might have a grudge against me. And if you’ve killed one person . . .
I told her I was sorry for all of her trouble, but right now was a bad time. Maybe tomorrow. I figured by then I’d have thought of some way out of it. She breathed heavily a few times and clearly wasn’t pleased with my answer and hung up.
I made myself a cup of camomile tea and the sweet flowery scent filled the air as I took it to the kitchen table. It was supposed to be relaxing and I hoped it would work its magic. I took a sip and closed my eyes. I hadn’t realized how hunched my shoulders were and I made a conscious effort to lower them. Just when I was beginning to feel a little better, I heard someone pounding on the window of the back door. When I looked up, Emily was looking in on me. Before I had a chance to think of what to do, the door pushed open and she came inside.
Her eyes had a crazed look and I swallowed hard, glancing around the kitchen. The block with the knives was on the counter in plain sight.
I mumbled something about wondering how she’d gotten past all the reporters. She stood in front of the large windows facing my backyard and pointed toward the white bench M
ason and I had used to climb over. She’d noticed me standing on it when I’d thrown the afghan over the fence. She’d been able to step on her hose holder and then hold on to the shed in her yard while she stepped over the fence and onto the bench. She’d done exactly what Mason and I had in reverse. I suddenly felt very alone in the big house. Blondie had gone back to her chair. Only Cosmo had responded to the sound of the door opening. He seemed confused. He knew her, but something about the way she was acting seemed strange. The small black dog sat down across the kitchen and watched her.
I jumped up from the table, wanting to put some space between me and Emily. I grabbed the broom and started sweeping the floor, thinking of its potential as a weapon.
“I need to talk to you,” she said. Her short choppy breath was a sure sign of anxiety.
“What about your girls? You didn’t leave them home alone?” I said. She took a step closer to me and said Bradley’s sister, Madison, was with them next door.
“I was trying to figure out how that police detective even knew I was with Bradley. I was so careful to make sure none of the people investigating Bradley’s business followed me, I knew it couldn’t be any of them. Then I realized it was right after you’d given me the afghan. It was you, wasn’t it?” Emily looked at me intently.
I clutched the broom a little tighter. It didn’t matter that I didn’t answer, she repeated that it was me.
My heart was pounding and I considered what to do. She started talking, the words tumbling out of her mouth.
She had believed the suicide note and thought Bradley was dead until the night I’d seen the motorcycle. “I heard some noise, and when I went out in the driveway, Bradley was coming out of the bushes. He didn’t see me at first and I’m pretty sure he would have just gotten on the motorcycle and left if I hadn’t moved, triggering the motion-sensor light. As soon as he heard the police helicopter in the distance, he begged me to hide the motorcycle and him.
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