Then Charlene slipped into a clump of people.
Holly thought back on Charlene’s words. The killer was probably here. How cold and callous. Returning to the scene of the crime to appear innocent, to fake tears and grief. That motivated her. Trying to be subtle, Holly studied everyone present. She pressed click whenever she got a clear view of a face.
When a woman with the long brown hair turned, her face streaked with black tears, Holly took a picture. Several. She wanted to put her arm around the woman and promise this murder would see justice. Then a man, older with hints of silver in his hair, distinguished, face smooth, appearance polished, approached the woman. He put his arm around her and led her away. His mouth moved in conversation.
Holly took a picture.
But then she inched her way within earshot of the conversation.
As the man spoke, he leaned in close to the woman, his voice barely louder than a mumble. With her body sideways to them, Holly took tiny steps closer, wanting to appear engrossed in the cops’ work and the crime scene.
Minutes later, the jackhammering stopped. Now! She took one last step and cocked her head to hear better.
“Judy, I’m so sorry.” He took her in her arms. “It might not be Gary.”
She sobbed. “It has to be. We chose our rings to match. It’s his. I know it.”
“Gary was a good man.” The man’s voice cracked. “He’ll be sorely missed. Not just from the company but from the community. What can I do to help? Anything. Just name it.”
Murder victim? Gary.
Victim’s wife? Judy.
A sob broke through and it took a minute or so before Judy could speak. Her voice was hoarse and raspy. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what needs to be done.” Another sob.
Holly felt for the lady. She remembered what it was like to grieve while trying to comprehend that someone would murder someone you loved.
The man spoke. “I’ll take care of the funeral arrangements. I’m pretty sure Gary had made plans. I’ll contact your lawyer. How about the memorial service?”
Holly took a picture of them together. This man sounded a little too put-together, a little too suave and charming. Where was his grief? Emotion that ripped his heart from his chest and left him vulnerable at such a time?
The man prepared to leave, but Judy caught his sleeve. She clutched his coat in her fist, desperate. “Who do you think would do such a horrible thing? Dave was a good man. He had no enemies.”
Holly watched the man’s face for any telling signs. Obviously the victim, Dave, had an enemy or enemies.
“I don’t know.” His voice turned gravelly.
“You were his business partner. Surely there are things you know about him, business dealings, something. A clue for the cops to follow.”
For a brief few seconds, the man pursed his lips, his forehead furrowed with lines. The first hint of doubt.
She continued to speak, urgency growing with every word. “I know it’s no coincidence he ended up here of all places. This land, which has been abandoned for months, he purchased last month. It can’t be coincidence.”
The man’s face lost the doubt, turning sharp and intuitive. “What do you know about that, Judy? Tell me.”
Holly took another picture.
Judy bit her lip and brushed at a dried tear. “Not much. Just what I overhead from late-night phone calls. Dave kept this all very hush-hush. He didn’t want me to know about it.” She looked over the property at the foundation that had been dug and the piles of rocky earth. “Though I’m not sure why. This place isn’t anything special or much to look at. It’s like the rest of his properties...” She let her words trail off as if she already spoke more than she intended.
“Rest of his properties?” the man asked, now extremely curious. “What properties, Judy? You must tell me. It might help with the investigation.”
She forced out a laugh. “You probably know more about that than me. It was work. And that’s a big part of his life that he only gave me the vaguest of details. Like when he sold a mansion worth a couple million.”
“Hmm. I see. I’ll look through my stuff at the office. You check around at home. Maybe together we can figure out the whole picture. Meet me for dinner tomorrow night in town?”
Judy nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I should tell you one more thing.”
The jackhammering started up again while she spoke. Holly dug her heels into the soft earth in frustration. Of course, just when she was about to drop the biggest piece of information. She tried to read Judy’s lips to no avail. “The rubber ducky has launched?” Holly silently laughed. Right. “Your words are like glue to me.” After that Holly quit.
Ears ringing, she tried to catch a peek of the victim. Broken, jagged cement lay in a pile. They were about to pull out the body. Was he killed before or after the cement? They’d find out later. Given her relationship with Trent, it would be even harder to get answers from him. He’d share nothing, not wanting to put her in danger, and not wanting to feed her hunger to solve a mystery.
The jackhammering stopped. Crowds drew closer, blocking Holly’s view. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see the body anyway.
“Are you sure?” the man asked Judy.
“Yes. Positive.”
“What about—”
A blue uniform stepped from the crowd and approached Judy and the man. Holly froze. It was Trent. His cap was pulled low. He strode toward them with the intimidating confidence of a detective. Chief Hardy watched from the distance, taking in the scene.
She had to get out of there. Dressed in a sweatshirt, hood pulled up, and wearing sunglasses already made her look suspicious. Charlene’s motto of get-in and get-out needed to be activated.
Holly inched away, slowly, as Trent talked with Judy and the man. Every minute brought her closer to safety.
Until she bumped into someone.
***
“Oh, I’m so sorry. This ground is rocky and so hard to walk in heels.”
Holly didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Millicent. She’d recognize that voice anywhere. When they first met, Millicent had been a nice, sweet person. She had turned out to be anything but a friend.
“Um, apology accepted.” Holly attempted to disguise her voice, and she didn’t turn around but kept her snail-crawl pace away before Trent or Chief Hardy recognized her.
“I’m a reporter with the top newspaper in Fairview. What have you seen so far?”
“Not much.” Holly spit that out, trying not to scoff. Top newspaper? More like top source of lies. Drivel. Cheap entertainment. Complete joke.
“I see a body is being pulled from what looks like cement.” When Holly didn’t answer, Millicent spoke lower, her words choppy and in phrases. “Body chalky gray, covered in filmy dust. Pale. Surrounded by suspects. Can’t see Holly Hart anywhere. Surprised. Find a way to put her in anyway.”
Holly gasped. Millicent was taking oral notes. About her. Slowly, Holly’s fingers formed a fist.
“Officer Trent is on the job and woo wee is he looking smoking hot in his uniform. Tight butt. Kissable lips.”
“Isn’t he dating someone?” The words flew from Holly’s mouth before she could stop them.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Millicent scoffed. “Going on a few dates with the most boring girl in town isn’t exactly the foundation of a lasting relationship.”
“And I suppose you think you’re much better?” Holly knew she’d gone too far. Not looking back at Trent or Millicent, Holly took off toward the road.
“Wait!” Millicent called, attracting attention to them. “I’d like to talk with you.”
Holly walked faster than she thought possible. After a couple minutes in which she no longer heard Millicent’s annoying whine, she slowed. Safe. She’d sit in the car and wait for Charlene.
A sudden jerk on her hood pulled her back. Her red hair exposed.
“I knew it was you!”
“Oh, r
eally? Right up to the part where you noted to yourself to try and squeeze my name into your next article?”
Millicent smirked. “I won’t have to try now, will I?” She pulled out her audio recorder. “Local shop owner, who shall remain nameless, but we can all guess her name, was once again at the crime scene. This time she was dressed in disguise. Dark-hooded sweatshirt. Sunglasses. Looks rather suspicious to me. What do you think? Maybe the police ought to check her out. Again.”
On instinct, with no control, Holly slapped the recorder from Millicent’s hands. It hit the pavement and skidded down the sidewalk. Her breath came out ragged and fast as the fury consumed her. “You better leave me alone.”
“Now she threatens.” She glanced at the recorder then back at Holly, then tapped her head. “Don’t worry. It’s all up here. Every detail. Did I ever tell you—I have a photographic memory? Trent always loved that about me. I helped him study.”
“I bet you did,” Holly muttered.
Millicent sucked in a breath and covered her mouth. “Is someone jealous?” She looked back at the crime scene, the ambulance now pulling away with the body. A smug smile crossed her face. “Someone’s been a naughty, naughty girl. What will Trent think when his little sweetie pie is poking around in another investigation?”
Hot tears of frustration welled. She couldn’t cry. Not in front of Millicent.
Millicent leaned closer, her blonde hair swinging forward. Her lips were perfect. Her eyelashes long and curled. Her pert little nose cute as a button. How could Trent not be interested?
“That’s right. You should be worried. You might have Trent for now, but don’t worry, I’ve seen it before. He gets all excited about a relationship, then the interest fades. He moves on. Enjoy it while it lasts. Before he returns to someone he’s known for years with a history of friendship. Has he told you about our prom night?”
Holly stared blankly, fighting off the tears and the desire to punch her pert little nose.
“I’m guessing he hasn’t.” She smiled and let out a dreamy sigh. “It’s a night he’ll never forget. We stayed up until dawn.” She focused her gaze. “Has he told you his favorite foods? His favorite television show? It’s only a matter of time, Holly. Before he comes back to me.”
“Yeah, well, well...” Holly drew a blank.
Millicent laughed. “Oh, you poor thing. You’re so out of your league. I’m playing nice with you now, under my father’s orders, but don’t worry, the truth always comes out.” She poked Holly in the chest. “And something tells me you have secrets.”
Holly felt her face pale. Word couldn’t get out about her past, about her real name.
“I struck a nerve, didn’t I?” Millicent narrowed her eyes. “Thanks, Holly Hart. I was just bluffing, but your reaction tells me I should do a little digging. For the safety of the town. For Trent.”
Then she whirled around and strode away, probably to flirt with Trent.
Exhaustion settled over Holly. She tugged the hood back up even though the day was heating up, even though it didn’t matter because Millicent was sure to blabber to Trent about her appearance, either in person or through her so-called top newspaper.
Holly sat in Charlene’s car, wavering back and forth between rage and hopelessness. Millicent was a bug, a dirty black beetle crawling in the slimy sewers, scavenging for food, and potentially getting smashed underneath someone’s foot. Holly had never cared for the high-society girls, but that was nothing compared to small town petty jealousy.
Someone was yelling.
Holly pulled from her thoughts on Millicent to see Charlene sprinting from the crime scene. She waved her arms. Shouting. With the windows up, Holly couldn’t hear a thing.
Charlene yanked open the door. “I said get the car running!”
“I couldn’t hear you. What happened?”
Trickles of sweat appeared along Charlene’s hairline. “We have to get out of here. Talk later.” She started the car and whipped onto the road. The engine revved on high. Not until they were out of sight of the abandoned lot did she let up on the gas, relax the maniacal grip she had on the steering wheel, and unclench her jaw.
Holly studied her friend’s frenzied appearance. “Obviously you have big news to share. Or something happened.”
Charlene didn’t say a word. Ten minutes later, they pulled into her house. “Quick. Inside. And lose the disguise.”
Fearing what happened, or what trouble Charlene had gotten herself into, Holly sprinted toward the house. With fast, panicked movements, Charlene brewed coffee, threw their disguises in the back of an old closet, ran upstairs to come down in a bathrobe covered in cat hair, and then motioned for them to go into the living room. She flopped in a chair. Immediately five of her cats crawled into her lap.
“Don’t just stand there. Take a seat. You came to visit. That’s all.”
Now Holly worried. Her friend’s face had paled considerably. Nothing ever shook up Charlene. Ever. “Are you going to talk to me now?”
Charlene let out a controlled sigh. “I was doing just fine. I left you. I mixed with the crowd on the other side, like we planned. I secretly took pictures of the body, the faces of the people around me. I listened to conversations.” She fell silent.
“And?” Holly couldn’t take not knowing anymore, and she was concerned about her friend.
“The victim’s name is Gary Schilling. A realtor in town with Sunny Side Realtors.”
“And?”
“There was a man in the crowd, gruff-looking, but cute, I suppose to some people. Never seen him before. He looked rather suspicious. Got his picture. Don’t know his name.”
“And?” Holly asked again.
“And what?” Charlene snapped.
“Obviously something else happened besides your detective stuff. Obviously, you have a major clue.”
Charlene stroked her cats’ backs, her cheeks a nice shade of pink.
“Or something went wrong.” Sirens sounded in the distance, growing closer and closer. “Tell me now because I have a feeling I’m about to find out.”
“It’s not just me. You’re in on this too.”
“Will you just tell me?” Holly hissed out the words as the sirens shut off in Charlene’s driveway.
“Fine.” Charlene huffed. “This guy looked out of place, so I gave him a hard time. Just poking around. Just trying to get a reaction. I thought maybe he’d spill something by accident if I riled him up.”
Holly remembered her first month in Fairview. Charlene had done the same thing to her when she’d found the body in her cheesecake shop kitchen.
Someone pounded on the door. “Mom, I know you’re in there.”
“Quick,” Holly said. “Tell me the rest.”
But Charlene didn’t have a chance. Trent burst through the door practically breaking it down. A vein in his neck pulsed, his body was rigid, and he clenched his cap in his hand.
“Don’t even try to pretend that you’re having a lazy morning, drinking coffee. Don’t even try.” He noticed Holly and flashed her a cold grimace. “You’ve got to stay out of this one. Both of you.”
“There’s no law that says we can’t talk to people in public or private.”
Trent exploded. “He almost killed you, Mom. He had his beefy hands around your neck. You’re lucky I noticed.”
Holly straightened up in her armchair. Clearly, Charlene hadn’t gotten to the most important part of her story. “What?”
“And you!” Trent turned on her. “Don’t pretend you had nothing to do with this.” Then he addressed them both. “This is a matter for the police. A person in town, someone everyone knows and loves, someone active in the community, has been murdered. And you two and your little mystery club of amateur detectives need to stay out of it.” His voice grew louder with every word. “Or else!” He yelled, then left in a cold fury.
The door slammed leaving Holly and Charlene in a cold, prickly silence. Holly was the first to break it. “Just poking
around?”
Charlene sighed. “I guess I hit a nerve. I hinted at money problems and personal agendas and he flipped out on me. I hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff.”
“Wow,” Holly whispered. “I’m glad you’re all right. Maybe we should leave this to the police.”
Charlene pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Right. And I’m Old Mother Hubbard.”
They spent the next thirty minutes swapping stories and information. The nameless, gruff-looking man had indeed attempted to strangle Charlene in a moment of fury, and Holly shared about the conversation she’d overheard, and of course, Millicent.
***
How did the morning get so out of control? Charlene had burst through her door this morning and the rest had been a complete whirlwind. From seeing the horrific consequences of something gone bad, either a friendship or business deal; to Millicent harassing her, tearing her down, word by word; to her friend almost dying; to her boyfriend yelling at her.
She gripped the mug of tea and held it closer to her body as if that would fight off the permanent chill. Muffins curled on her lap, snoring. In a spur of the moment thought, she texted the whole gang: Charlene, Kitty and Ann.
Emergency meeting tomorrow morning? The usual.
The usual, meaning in the back kitchen of Just Cheesecake. They did their best thinking, best brainstorming and strategizing while baking and boxing baked goods. She needed extra desserts for the fair, which she hoped would draw a lot of foot traffic and tourists from surrounding towns. And, she still needed a creation for the baking contest. And, she needed to perfect her strawberry cheesecake smoothie to sell at her booth. She blew out a breath, attempting to feel less overwhelmed.
Tomorrow morning, they’d sort out the investigation and if and how they should proceed. For the rest of the day, she didn’t want to think about it, which was unusual for her. Trent needed, demanded, her whole focus today. He was furious. At her. Their relationship was crumbling before it barely had a chance to get started.
Frosted on the Ferris Wheel Page 2
