by Cindy Bell
“She claims?” Delaney asked sharply. “You mean you have spoken to her recently about the case?”
“She is a former client and I wanted to check on her wellbeing,” Wendy explained.
“You aren’t a police officer,” Delaney said impatiently. “You should have told me about this before you ever spoke to her.”
“I'm telling you now,” Wendy countered. She was answered by the sound of the dial tone. She scrunched up her nose and hung up her phone as well. She wondered if telling Delaney everything had done more harm than good.
She took the keys out of the ignition and went into her condo. She checked on the mouse who looked happy enough in its cage. She threw in a piece of cheese which he nibbled on excitedly. On Wendy’s work desk was the giant book of wedding plans for Shawna and Kyle's wedding. She felt a pang of guilt for neglecting her clients, especially this close to the wedding. Luckily, there hadn't been any big disasters for Wendy to deal with. She grabbed the small planner, took a deep breath and promised herself that after lunch she would focus exclusively on the wedding.
Wendy was looking forward to sharing a meal with Brian, not only because she enjoyed spending time with him, but also because she hoped he would have come up with some new ideas about the case. She was going to have a hard time focusing on Shawna’s wedding if George's murder wasn't solved.
Chapter Seven
As Wendy drove to the restaurant she thought about what Delaney had said about her not being a police officer. She knew he was right, but what she did have was an eye for detail. It was what allowed her to make every tiny part of a wedding magical, and also what made her think of the mice not being wild. She might not be a police officer, but she was a great problem solver. When she parked at Mulligans she cringed at how busy it was.
It was a popular diner style restaurant in the area and since it was lunchtime, it was packed. Wendy hoped there wouldn't be a long wait for food, as she was starving. When she entered the restaurant she swept her gaze over the tables. She wondered if Brian was there already. Suddenly, she spotted someone standing up. Brian waved to her over the heads of the crowd. She smiled and walked over to him.
“Do I need to check your purse?” he asked with a half-smile as Wendy sat down across from him.
“I had to switch it out,” she admitted and refrained from explaining why. “But no, you don't need to check it, my little mouse friend is safe and sound at home.”
“Your home?” he cringed.
“Yes,” she smiled. “So, you can always stop by and visit. I know you can't wait.”
“I may just do that,” Brian winked lightly at her. “As long as you are there no mouse can keep me away.”
Wendy tried not to blush.
“Did you speak to Polson?” Brian asked.
“No, Delaney answered,” she grimaced. “He wasn’t too happy about you finding out who called in the tip to the health department before him.”
“Well, I can’t help it if I’m better at getting information than him,” Brian smiled. “Let’s just relax and have lunch. We have more chance of working this out with a clear mind.”
Wendy nodded but as the waitress walked over, her mind drifted back to the murder. She wondered if there would be any other evidence that the medical examiner might find. She was still stuck on the coincidence of Alisha being the one to report the mice, but she couldn’t imagine her murdering anyone.
“Wendy?” Brian asked and nudged her foot lightly with his own under the table.
“Hmm?” Wendy looked up at him, then over at the waitress who was waiting impatiently for their drink order.
“Oh, I'll have some iced tea, please,” Wendy smiled at the waitress. She didn't smile back. She looked to be in her late teens, and she had a scowl that came with youth. Being in her late twenties Wendy still sometimes felt as young as the waitress, but she had lost her scowl long ago.
“I'll have a coke,” Brian said and accepted the menus that the waitress handed them. Wendy was sure that there was something she could find on the menu that would be delicious, but her stomach was in knots. She had been so hungry when she walked in, but now she wasn't sure if she could eat. All she kept thinking about was the body in the freezer.
“Wendy,” Brian sighed and reached across the table to take her hand. “You keep drifting away from me,” he said gently.
“I'm sorry,” Wendy frowned. “I know it's terribly rude of me. I just keep thinking about the case.” Wendy’s cell phone began to ring. “It’s Polson, do you mind if I take it?” she asked as she looked at the screen. Brian nodded his approval as she answered.
“Wendy,” Polson said gruffly. “I just want to let you know that we crossed Alisha off our list of suspects.”
“What?” Wendy said in shock, Brian looked over at her with some alarm at how sharply she was speaking. “But I think she’s the most likely suspect,” Wendy argued.
“That isn't possible, Wendy,” Polson said firmly. “Her alibi is solid,” he explained. “She had credit card receipts from a motel, gas stations, a restaurant, and an expense report. She was at an overnight conference on the other side of town during the window of the time of death.”
“Really, but I thought she is the main suspect,” Wendy said quietly. Even though Alisha had provided an alibi, Wendy still felt the obviously planted mice proved she was involved, but she was relieved as she didn’t want to believe that Alisha could be a murderer.
“That's why I am the police officer and you are the wedding planner,” Polson pointed out. “All that matters is the evidence, not knee-jerk reactions. Why did you think she was the prime suspect?”
Wendy was still in a state of shock about Alisha's alibi. She wondered if she should tell Polson about the mice or not. It occurred to her that maybe somehow Oliver had planned this entire thing.
“The mice,” she mumbled.
“What?” Polson asked as if he didn't hear her.
“The mice at Handley’s,” Wendy explained with more gusto. “They were a plant.”
“A plant?” Polson sounded confused. “What are you talking about, Wendy?”
“I mean Oliver didn't have a mouse problem until someone set the mice loose in his building. They're not wild mice, they are mice bred for feeding,” she explained with a frown as she saw Brian shiver at the mention of the mice.
“How do you know this, Wendy?” Polson asked with some urgency.
“I caught one and took it to the pet store,” Wendy explained.
“So, you're basing your theory from one mouse?” Polson asked. “Don't you think it's possible that mouse was just a coincidence? It doesn't mean that all of the mice are not wild.”
“I asked the clerk to report any mass purchases of mice,” Wendy stammered out. She was feeling less and less confident by the moment.
“That's good, I'd hate to waste police resources on a wild mouse chase,” he muttered. He was silent for a moment before adding. “That was a joke.”
“I know,” Wendy said quietly. “I still think the mice were planted there deliberately and the fact that Alisha called in the tip about them makes me think she is very involved in the murder.”
“Well, let me know if you come across any other information,” Polson insisted.
“I will,” Wendy said quietly. “Thanks Polson,” she said before she hung up the phone.
“What is it?” Brian asked.
“Alisha has been cleared,” Wendy said mystified. “Her alibi checks out completely. She has receipts to back it up.”
“Then she didn't do it,” Brian sighed.
“But why would she plant the mice, if she wasn't the killer?” Wendy asked with disbelief.
“Maybe you're assuming too much,” Brian warned her.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You're assuming that Alisha planted the mice, only because she was the one who called in a tip about them,” he explained.
“That makes sense to me,” Wendy shrugged, she was
already feeling a little knocked down by Polson and wasn't enjoying the fact that Brian seemed to agree with him.
“Except that maybe Alisha was telling the truth. Maybe she just went there to have some food, and the mice had already been planted. If she truly did see a mouse, that would explain why she reported them. It is possible that she had absolutely nothing to do with planting the mice or the murder,” he shook his head.
“I see what you're saying,” Wendy chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment before releasing it and nodding. “I guess you could be right. But where does that leave us?”
“Oliver Handley?” Brian suggested with a look of confusion.
“Why would Oliver plant mice in his own building?” Wendy asked impatiently. “That makes even less sense.”
“Well, I was going to wait until after we had lunch to tell you what else I found out but if it's this important to you, I guess we better just discuss it now,” he said with a slight frown.
“I'm sorry,” Wendy shook her head. She was quite eager to hear what Brian had found out.
“Don't be,” Brian insisted. “I think it's great that you're so dedicated to finding out the truth. I just didn't want to bore you by only talking shop during our meal.”
“Please, you could never bore me,” Wendy said sweetly.
“Only time will tell,” Brian laughed. As the waitress walked back over, the two ordered quickly. Once she had walked away, Wendy turned back to Brian.
“So, what is it?” she asked and attempted to hide her impatience.
Brian met her eyes across the table. Wendy suspected he was enjoying withholding the information for just long enough to make her cheeks burn red with frustration.
“I had someone dig into Oliver's financials,” Brian explained finally. “It's not pretty,” he shook his head.
“What do you mean?” Wendy asked and leaned further across the table.
“Well, Handley’s is in debt, big time,” Brian explained. “But that isn't Oliver's biggest problem. His biggest problem is that he's invested a lot of money that he didn’t have with lawyers in an attempt to get his reputation cleared from the incident with the resort.”
“I see,” Wendy nodded. “So, he was out of a lot of money?”
“It seems like he was getting pretty desperate,” Brian nodded. “It's possible that he lost it when George showed up at Handley’s. He might have just truly been pushed over the edge by the thought of his business being closed.”
“It's possible,” Wendy frowned as she recalled the desperation in Oliver's voice when he was on the phone. She wondered for a moment who he might have been talking to. “But that still doesn't explain the mice,” Wendy pointed out. “Why would he let the mice free in his own café?”
“Maybe he didn't,” Brian said. “We keep thinking that the mice and the murder are connected because the killer must have committed both crimes, but what if the killer only committed the murder.”
“So, if Oliver is the killer, and he killed George, who was it that released the mice into the café? Are we back to Alisha on that?” she frowned and picked at her food. “Or maybe Nathan?”
“Or maybe,” Brian's eyes widened and he snapped his fingers. “Maybe it was George.”
“The victim?” Wendy narrowed her eyes. “Why would he ever do something like that?”
Brian sat back in his chair and shook his head slowly. “I'm not sure,” he admitted.
Wendy chewed on her thumbnail. The sound of all of the conversations around her blended together with the clang of silverware against plates. She found it surprisingly mind-numbing to be in the middle of such chatter. She kept thinking about George. He had to know that there was a surprising connection between himself and Oliver when he went out to investigate Handley’s. He could have insisted that another inspector take his place, considering their history and the fact that Oliver was actively trying to get him fired. Yet, he had still been the inspector to show up at Oliver's door.
“Oh wow,” she murmured as a thought crossed her mind. “What if George planted the mice to get back at Oliver for going after his job? Or maybe he was worried that Oliver would pursue legal action against him. Perhaps he thought he could use the inspection as leverage to get Oliver to drop any legal actions against him?”
“That could be it,” Brian nodded. “George probably didn't realize how much stress he was causing Oliver. He never considered that his life could be at risk.”
“So, then we can assume that Oliver is probably responsible for George's death,” Wendy said with a slow nod.
“Hold on a minute,” Brian said with a frown. “We can't ever assume anything. It's a theory, but we don't have anything to prove it.”
“Hopefully, we'll hear from the clerk at the pet shop,” Wendy said with a sigh. “If we can figure out who actually purchased the mice then we’ll have a better idea of who set them loose inside Handley’s in order to set up Oliver.”
“Yes, that would help,” Brian nodded. “But if the mice were planted they could have been purchased from any pet shop.”
Brian sat back as their food was placed in front of them. Wendy didn't even recall ordering the loose meat sandwich and onion rings, but she was glad that she had. Her stomach rumbled at the sight of them. Brian snatched an onion ring off her plate.
“Hey!” she complained.
“You can have one of my fries,” he offered with a puppy dog expression. Wendy playfully glared at him and stole one of his fries. Brian was all business until he wasn't. It was hard to predict exactly what mood he would be in at any given moment. It always kept Wendy on her toes.
Wendy tried to relax and concentrate on her lunch but her mind returned to the murder.
“You’re thinking about the murder again?” Brian asked as he noticed her demeanor suddenly change.
“I just wish there was something more solid we could base the investigation on. I mean, there had to be some kind of evidence left behind, some kind of mistake must have been made,” she said with mounting frustration. “I can't get it off my mind.”
She tossed the fry down on her plate before she could even eat it. Brian caught her hand gently in his own. He ran his thumb slowly back and forth across the back of her hand, a motion that was incredibly soothing to her.
“There's nothing more we can do about it right now,” Brian pointed out. “We can only wait and see if anything else comes up. In the meantime, we should enjoy what freedom you have left.”
“What?” Wendy looked up at him with surprise. “Brian?” she asked, demanding an explanation.
“I'm sorry,” he laughed a little. His eyes were glinting with mischief. “I just wanted to see if you were actually listening.”
“It's not funny,” Wendy insisted with a shake of her head. “I really might become a suspect you know.”
“Polson knows you had nothing to do with this, and Delaney and Dunn, well they can be stubborn but I doubt they suspect you either, besides everything else the timeline doesn’t add up,” Brian said and gave her hand a light squeeze. “But we're not going to figure anything out until you relax a little. You've barely touched your food, aren't you going to eat?” he asked.
“I think I lost my appetite,” she said with a sigh.
“Well, you better find a way to get it back,” he insisted. “You have to eat, Wendy.”
“I'm feeling a little sick,” Wendy admitted and looked back down at her food with a crinkled up nose.
“That's because you have a mouse for a pet,” Brian said in a clipped tone. “Which is a little sick, if you ask me.”
“I wasn't asking,” Wendy pointed out with a laugh. She began to relax a little. Brian had that effect on her.
“Oh right,” he smiled grimly and took a big bite of his burger. Wendy had to grin at Brian's teasing. He always had a way of getting her out of a funk. She tended to obsess over things. But he was right. There was nothing more that she could do at the moment. She had to find a way to enjoy hers
elf. When the waitress returned to fill their drinks she frowned at Wendy's full plate.
“Was there anything wrong with the meal?” she asked with concern.
“No, it's fine,” Wendy assured her and took a bite of the loose meat sandwich. She smiled with pleasure at the flavoring. Her appetite was beginning to return. The moment she stopped thinking about the murder however, she began thinking about the wedding she was planning. At this point she couldn't ignore the fact that she had been neglecting it.
“What's wrong?” Brian asked. Wendy realized that she must have been frowning.
“I'm just trying to figure out everything I have to do today for the wedding,” she said with a shake of her head. “I have a lot planned to accomplish this afternoon. Everything is okay, but I need to make the final confirmations on a few things,” she explained.
“Ah, the life of a wedding planner is never dull,” Brian smiled as he took the last bite of his hamburger.
“At least not when she leaves things to the last minute,” Wendy laughed. She had managed to finish most of her meal, with a little help from Brian of course.
“I'll take care of the bill,” Brian said as he stood up from the table. “So, you can get your afternoon of work started.”
Wendy left a tip on the table and then followed after him to the register. Brian paid with his credit card. The waitress handed him the receipt to sign. Wendy watched as Brian scrawled his name across the signature line of the credit card receipt. She smiled at how messy and creative his signature was. She had always thought it was a little strange that signatures could look nothing like the person's name. The waitress didn't look at the credit card or ask for ID to verify the signature, which didn't really surprise Wendy. However, it did spark something in her mind. Just because someone used a credit card, didn't always mean they were the owner of the credit card. She also suddenly recalled Alisha saying she was up late packing. Had she gone to the conference after she had finished? Wendy’s heart began to race as she and Brian walked out of the restaurant.
