by Sofie Kelly
“You’re welcome,” I said. I glanced around the tent. “Where’s Liam?”
“There was something Marcus needed him to take care of,” Maggie said. “It couldn’t wait, so I offered to meet Alex and show him around.”
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Alex wasn’t going to plant something to throw suspicion on Georgia. Or maybe he hadn’t had a chance with Maggie right beside him. Maybe I could walk around with the two of them and everything would be fine.
I took a few steps backward and gestured at the Sweet Things booth. “Maggie, who did the sign for Sweet Things?” I asked. “It’s wonderful.”
It actually was. The artist had created a stylized line drawing of a cupcake with a cherry on top, the bottom edge of the cupcake turning into the words “Sweet Things,” written in pink script.
“Ruby did that,” Maggie said. “She did the signs we’re going to use outside and over at the art show too.”
“Ruby is the artist with the rainbow-sherbet-colored hair, isn’t she?” Alex asked. When he smiled, I noticed it didn’t go as far as his eyes.
“That’s right,” Mags said. The smile she gave Alex was much warmer. “Guess what? Alex is going to take four dozen of Georgia’s cupcakes with him for a meeting tomorrow morning in Minneapolis.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said.
I moved closer to the front of the kiosk, eyeing the pale varnished wood and the area around it while I pretended to look at Ruby’s work. You’re just being paranoid, I told myself. Then I saw it: a tiny corner of cream-colored paper. It looked as though a business card had been slipped in between a side support and the flat front counter of the booth.
I swallowed, hoping no reaction showed on my face. All I had to do was keep an eye on the booth and wait to hear from Marcus.
Maggie came to stand beside me. She pointed up at the sign. “See how Ruby has the letters coming out of the line of the cupcake? For outside, she did an outline of Wild Rose Bluff, which turns into the words ‘A Taste of Mayville Heights,’ and then into a wild rose.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” I said.
I was about to suggest that she finish showing Alex around when suddenly she frowned and leaned forward. “Wait a second. What’s that?” She was pointing at that little corner of card stock. “I thought Burtis said all the booths had been cleaned.”
As an artist, Maggie was incredibly observant. This time I wished she hadn’t been.
“I think it’s just a bit of cardboard,” I said. “Burtis probably had cardboard and plastic around all of these booths to keep them from getting banged up when they’re not being used.”
Before I could say anything else, she leaned over, caught the edge of the card with a nail—it was a business card—and pulled it free. She looked at me, giving her head a little shake. “How the heck did that get there?” she said. She studied the heavy off-white card stock. “I wonder who Victor Wyler is.”
Alex shrugged. “Probably the last person who rented the tent and the booths.” He looked around. “Maggie, I think everything is fine. I appreciate you coming to let me look things over, but you have a lot to do. I’m just going to go. Tell Liam I’ll see him tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” Maggie asked.
He nodded. “It looks fantastic. I need to head back to Minneapolis anyway. I have that meeting in the morning. I should be here before lunch tomorrow, though.”
He’d ordered four dozen of Georgia’s cupcakes to take to that meeting. Was he going to plant something at her house, too? I couldn’t take the chance.
“Victor Wyler is Georgia’s father-in-law,” I said. “Former father-in-law, actually.”
Maggie looked from the card to me. “He is?”
“She probably just dropped it, then,” Alex said, pulling his keys from the pocket of his jacket.
In a moment, he was going to be past me and I wouldn’t be able to stop him from leaving. I pressed my hand against my leg, hoping he wouldn’t see the tiny tremble in my fingers.
“She didn’t drop it,” I said. “You put it there.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know anyone by the name of—what was it? Wyler?” He didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable. He gave Maggie that polite, practiced smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I didn’t want to do the big melodramatic moment, like we were playing a game of Clue—the killer was Mr. Scott in the tent with the curtain—but I couldn’t think of any other way to keep him from going. And suddenly it seemed like a very bad idea to let him leave.
“Did you plan on killing Mike from the beginning?” I asked. “Or were you hoping somehow that you could convince him to just go away quietly?”
“Excuse me?” Alex said. He had just the right amount of incredulous anger in his expression.
Maggie’s eyes shifted between the two of us. “Kathleen, what’s going on?” she asked. I noticed she had carefully slipped the business card into the pocket of her jeans.
I took a step close to Alex, effectively blocking his way. I wondered if he could hear my heart pounding in my chest. “Mike was ruining your business, wasn’t he? Oh, you were making money, but not in the way you wanted to.”
“My business isn’t any of your business,” he said.
“I wondered why on earth you’d ever agreed to that juicy contract in the first place,” I said. “But you had to, didn’t you? That’s the problem when you make a deal with the devil. He gets to dictate the terms.”
He switched his keys from one hand to the other. “I don’t mean to offend you, Ms. Paulson,” he said. “But I think you need some professional help.”
“Your brother wrote the bar exam for you.”
His hand tightened around the ring of keys. If I hadn’t been watching for the movement, I would have missed it.
He gave me a cool smile. “Clearly, research is one of your strengths. You obviously know I didn’t pass the bar on my first try—or my second—but I did pass eventually. Myself.”
I kept going as though he hadn’t spoken. “I don’t know how Mike figured it out, or what he had for proof, but you paid him off and you thought that would be the end of things. And then Mike needed a job. He blackmailed you.” I wrapped my hand around the cell phone in my pocket, wishing Marcus would call, or even better, show up.
“Mike Glazer was my friend as well as my partner,” Alex said. “And there was nothing to blackmail me about. I’m offended that you’d even suggest he’d do something like that.” His voice was just a little bit less controlled.
Maggie touched my arm. “Are you serious?” she said. “You think he killed Mike?”
“He did kill Mike,” I said. I didn’t look at her. I kept my eyes on Alex. “I’m guessing you didn’t set out to make Georgia Tepper the fall guy,” I continued. “I think that was just a happy little coincidence of Georgia being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
He shook his head and moved to push past me. I stepped in front of him. “Somewhere there’s going to be a receipt for that airbrush makeup kit you bought,” I said with a confidence I didn’t feel. “The police are going to figure out that there isn’t a single photo of you and your brother together at that benefit. And they will find Mike Glazer’s briefcase. They might have to search every garbage can and Dumpster between Mayville Heights and Minneapolis, but they will find it.”
Just like that, the charming businessman was gone, his face all tight, angry lines. He grabbed my upper arm, fingers digging painfully into the skin. “Stop talking!” he said in a rough-edged voice.
Maggie sucked in a breath.
I swallowed and bit the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t give away how much he was hurting me. “What did he do?” I asked, working to keep any shakiness out of my voice. “I know you didn’t plan to hurt him.”
“I didn’t,” he said. He swiped his free hand over the back of his neck. The veneer of the polished businessman had all peeled away.
“What happened?”
“He ha
d some kind of crisis of conscience.” He exhaled loudly. “He said he wanted to be a man of integrity.” Alex laughed, and the sound was harsh against the soft wall of the tent. “He didn’t know a damn thing about integrity.”
So something Wren had said to Mike had gotten through to him. I didn’t say that, though. “So tell that to the police,” I said. “Everyone in town knows the kind of person Mike Glazer was.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. He pulled on my arm, twisting it up behind my back at an unnatural angle.
I clenched my teeth. It felt as though my shoulder were going to come right out of its socket. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of black-and-white fur as a yowling Hercules seemed to come from nowhere to land in a crouch on the counter of the Sweet Things booth. His fur was on end and his ears were flat against his head.
Alex swore. “Where the hell did that thing come from?” he said. The cat was enough of a distraction that I managed to wrench my arm free.
He raised his hand and a voice behind us said, “Don’t do that, Mr. Scott.”
Marcus.
Alex hesitated, and without warning, Maggie’s hand shot out and locked on to his arm at the elbow. She smiled, but there was no warmth in her expression. “It would be a good idea to listen to Detective Gordon,” she said. “I could break your arm if I have to. I don’t want to, but I can.” Hercules shook himself and straightened up, watching Maggie intently.
Marcus walked over to us. “You can let go,” he said to Mags.
She nodded and released Alex’s arm, wiping her hand on her jeans.
Marcus looked at me. “You all right?” he asked.
I nodded. “He killed Mike Glazer,” I said.
Marcus nodded. “I know.”
He knew? How did he know?
After that, things seemed to happen in a blur of activity. Alex Scott was taken away in a police car, more police officers arrived and we were herded out onto the walkway.
“Are you all right?” Maggie asked. She touched my shoulder and I winced. “Okay, obviously you’re not.”
“No, I’m all right,” I said. I had my good arm wrapped around Hercules. It had gotten colder now that the sun was down, but holding the little black-and-white cat was like having a portable heater. Maggie was already pulling out her cell phone. “What are you doing?” I said.
“Calling Roma.” She shrugged. “I know you won’t go to the emergency room, and since you’re stubborn as a mule, it seems appropriate to get her to take a look at that shoulder.”
I made a face at her, and she gave me a smile as she put the phone to her ear and took a couple of steps away from me. Roma had first aid training, so it wasn’t really that outlandish an idea to call her.
Hercules put a paw gently on my shoulder. “I’m okay,” I said. He narrowed his eyes at me. “I am, really.”
I stroked his fur with one finger. “You were supposed to stay in the truck.” He looked all around as though he had suddenly lost the ability to hear me. I bent down and kissed the top of his furry head. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Maggie closed her phone and walked back to me. “Roma is going to meet us at your house in a little while.” She gestured at Hercules. “How did he end up here?”
“They like to ride in the truck. I didn’t see him jump out when I got out.” She frowned, but I figured it was more believable than “He walked through the closed truck door because that happens to be his superpower.”
Maggie looked over at the tent. “Why did Alex kill Mike?”
“He couldn’t pass the bar exam. Christopher, on the other hand, aced it the first time. They were identical twins. I think eventually they came up with the idea that Christopher would take Alex’s place.”
“And somehow Mike found out.”
I nodded. “It looks that way.” Herc twisted in my arm so he could look over my shoulder.
“And he was blackmailing them.”
“And taking kickbacks from some of the businesses they dealt with.”
“Do you think Mike did have a change of heart?”
“I do. I think Wren’s words got to him.”
Maggie pushed a stray curl off her forehead. She glanced over at the sidewalk. Liam was there, talking to a police officer. She pointed in his direction. “I’m just going to go talk to Liam for a minute, and then I’m going to find Marcus and see if we can leave.”
“Okay,” I said. She headed for the sidewalk, and at the same time Marcus came out of the tent. He stared at me for a long moment and then walked across the grass to me.
“Is your shoulder all right?” he asked.
“I think so,” I said.
“Someone should take a look at it.”
“Maggie’s already taken care of that.”
“Everything that happened at Eric’s wasn’t enough for you?” he said.
I realized then how very angry he was. “I tried to call you,” I said. “I did call you. You were talking to Wren and then Liam.” I stopped and looked away for a moment. “When Maggie said that Alex wanted to do a walk-through of the setup tonight, I figured there was a pretty good chance he was going to plant something to make it look like Georgia had killed Mike. She’s been running and hiding for the past three years, trying to stay away from her ex-in-laws. I was afraid she’d bolt again—or even worse, that they’d find her and start harassing her again. What did you want me to do?”
I’d expected him to say “Nothing,” but instead he just looked at me. “Trust me,” he said.
“I do trust you.”
He looked past me, over my shoulder. I waited, and his eyes came back to my face. “No, you don’t, Kathleen.” He gestured at Hercules. “I almost think you trust those cats more than you trust me.” He held up a finger before I could speak. “Did you think you were the only one who was suspicious of Alex Scott and his brother? I was working a lot of the same information, and in time, I probably would have gotten to the same place. But I have to play by the rules.”
He stared up at the darkening sky for a moment. “The award that Alex got the night of that fund-raising dinner? The only fingerprints that were on it were Christopher’s.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I could barely get the words out, and my heart was pounding in the hollow at the base of my throat.
Marcus looked down at me. “Twice, twice tonight you went rushing in to fix things because you thought I was too incompetent to do my job.”
Suddenly there was a lump in my throat and the burn of unshed tears in my eyes. “I don’t think you’re incompetent,” I whispered. “I just . . . It was complicated.”
His lips were pulled into a tight line. “Just once, Kathleen, just once it would be nice if you had a little faith in me.”
Maggie was on her way back to us. “You can go,” Marcus said. He didn’t look at me, and his voice was as cold as winter ice in the lake. He turned and walked away, and I felt the tears start to slide down my face.
24
Maggie moved her car into her parking spot behind River Arts and drove my truck home. She didn’t ask what had happened between Marcus and me; she just squeezed my hand, pulled a Kleenex out of her pocket and handed it to me.
Owen sat in the middle of the truck’s bench seat, sending me concerned looks every few minutes. Hercules sat on my lap, his head against my chest in sympathy.
Maggie waylaid Roma in the driveway, and she must have told her something had happened with Marcus, because Roma kept her questions solely about my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Kathleen,” she said. “That needs to be seen by a real doctor.” I was too upset to argue.
The two of them drove me to the ER, which was miraculously quiet for a Sunday night. The doctor who examined my shoulder decided I probably had some strained tendons and ligaments. He put my arm in a sling, gave me some painkillers and told me to ice and rest the arm.
“Why don’t I stay with you?” Maggie said when Roma pulled into the driveway.
I forced myself to gi
ve her a small smile. “I appreciate that, but if you really want to do something for me, go help Liam let everyone know what’s happened. And would you call Abigail and get her to check on Georgia? Please? That would make me feel better.”
She and Roma exchanged looks.
“I’m all right, really,” I said. “I’m just going to take a couple of these pills and go to bed.”
“Okay,” Maggie said.
“If you need anything, you call me,” Roma warned.
“I will,” I said.
Maggie walked me to the back door and gave me a hug. “He won’t stay mad forever,” she whispered.
I let myself into the kitchen. Both cats were waiting. I kicked off my shoes and knelt beside them. Owen immediately began sniffing the sling. Hercules climbed up on my lap and licked my chin. I wasn’t going to sit around on the floor, crying. I was going to fix things with Marcus. I was going to keep apologizing until he listened.
His cell phone went to voice mail. I wasn’t surprised. There was no answer at his house. I heard something clatter to the floor in the kitchen. I went out to find Owen and Hercules with my truck keys between them. “You’re not exactly subtle,” I said, bending to pick up the key ring. “Then again, if I see him in person, maybe I can get him to listen.”
Owen meowed loudly. I looked at Hercules, and after what seemed to be a moment’s hesitation, he gave a soft meow as well. I knew it was a bad idea to be driving one-handed, but I was past caring.
The cats followed me out to the truck, and there didn’t seem to be any reason not to let them come. This time Owen looked out the passenger window while Herc sat beside me and stared out the windshield.
Marcus wasn’t down by the tents. He wasn’t at the police station, either. We drove all over the downtown, but there was no sign of him or his car. I ground my teeth together against the gnawing pain in my shoulder and drove out to his little house. It was in darkness and there was no SUV in the driveway.
I tried his cell again and his home phone. Voice mail, both times.
“He doesn’t want to talk to me.” Hercules leaned against my side, and Owen walked across the front seat to rub his furry cheek against my good hand. “Let’s go home,” I said.
