“Fred.” Branson spoke through gritted teeth. “I understand you want to clear Barry’s name, and I also understand your father was a detective, so you feel somewhat… entitled to pretend like you’re one as well.” He almost looked apologetic as he said his next words, though his effect didn’t weaken. “Like I’ve said, I’m good at my job, and because of that, it doesn’t matter whether or not I like you. I will charge you with hampering an investigation if you continue. You need to back off and leave this to the police.”
“Were you even aware that Sid started the edible business? He was getting his marijuana from the Green Munchies in Lyons, and that Opal was the one who talked him out of it. Did you know it was Opal who decided they could make a lot more if they began growing their own product?” Whether it was due to my temper or needing to feel justified, the words fell from my lips before I could bring them back. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t bring up that detail to anyone unless I had good reason to believe it could clear Barry’s name. I didn’t exactly know what the consequences would be, but I didn’t want to be responsible for getting Eddie and his business in trouble, not with as kind as he was to Barry and myself. Not unless I had to.
Fury crossed Branson’s face, and he gripped the soupspoon so tightly it trembled and clinked against the bowl. “What?”
“You heard me.” I wasn’t going to repeat it. I wasn’t.
His nostrils flared as he spoke. “That little weasel was the one filtering drugs into my town?”
I wasn’t completely sure why I felt protective of Eddie, but I did. “You’re missing the point. Sid was the one who set up the operation, and then Opal took charge. Who knows what else she was doing, or how many enemies she made. The least of whom is Barry. And my point remains, I’m clearly discovering things the police department has no idea about, just by talking to people over a matter of days. So don’t tell me to back off when I’m doing a better job of it than you are.”
Branson had appeared muscular and strong in a model, man-in-uniform way before. But as he trembled with rage, that illusion faded. Combined with his anger, physical power seemed to radiate off him. And while I didn’t feel necessarily unsafe with him; I wasn’t entirely certain he was as predictable as I’d assumed.
After several tense moments, still trembling, Branson stood with clenched fists. “Thank you for dinner. And regardless of what you think about me, my abilities, or the Estes Park Police in general, you will leave this well enough alone. I will not hesitate to formally charge you, Fred. The best thing you can do to help your stepfather is to let us handle it. You will only get in the way.”
I started to argue, but he was already storming toward the front door. Just as he touched the handle, he glanced back. Though unsuccessful, it seemed he was attempting to infuse some kindness into his tone. “The other reason I came was to tell you that we’re done at Heads and Tails. Maybe it seems as if we’ve been sitting on our thumbs, but we’ve had a murder scene to deal with, as well as a grow house. We’ve been focusing our attention there. I knew it was important to you to get your business going.” The accusation in his eyes was obvious. “So it’s done. You can take possession of it again tomorrow.” And with that, he was gone.
I sat there, stunned, too many emotions, thoughts, and possibilities tumbling around in my mind and gut. After a while, I tossed what little remained of Branson’s sandwich to Watson and took a bite of my own. Whatever he said, if he thought I was going to sit back and let the cards fall where they may regarding my family, he was sorely mistaken.
When I got up in the middle of the night to take Watson outside, this time on a leash, I was still so angry I promised myself I’d march right back downtown, barge into every single store, and become even more direct with my questioning. Nobody told me what to do. Not even a police officer.
By the time dawn crept through the windows, however, my temper had abated somewhat. I didn’t have any follow-up questions to what little I’d discovered the day before, so it made more sense to wait. Selfishly, I wanted to get into my shop. To really spend some time there and begin to plan its future. The benefit was that I’d found I often thought more clearly when I was distracted with other work. Maybe in mapping out the layout of the Cozy Corgi, something in the back of my mind would click.
Packing a lunch of tomato soup and a freshly made grilled cheese for myself and a baked chicken breast for Watson, we headed downtown again. By lunch, the soup and grilled cheese would be cold, but I thought I could manage. If I couldn’t, there was a fully functioning kitchen upstairs. Just because a woman had been killed there didn’t mean the stove couldn’t heat up soup and grilled cheese.
I didn’t bother with the leash in the short distance between my car and the shop, and no sooner had I opened the door than Watson took off like a bolt. Not a big deal; if he wanted to explore, he could. I flipped on the light downstairs and suddenly realized I could hear the pitter patter of his little feet above my head.
Of course he would go to the floor where we’d found a dead body.
I’d planned on working myself up to checking out the second floor again. But no time like the present. I supposed it didn’t matter if Watson was up there or not. It wasn’t like it was disrespectful, but it still didn’t sit right. I marched up the steps and flicked on the light, illuminating the second story. He was nowhere to be seen.
“Watson?”
There was a snuffling, and he popped his head out the doorway of the kitchen.
Where else would he be? “Come here.”
He let out a little whine, took a tentative step in my direction, then scampered around and disappeared once more.
“Good Lord, you are such a little brat.” Might as well get it over with. I walked toward him, took a deep breath, chastised myself for being ridiculous, and stepped into the kitchen. “What are you doing in here? Looking for clues?”
Watson ignored me, scurrying here and there, his nose shoved to the floor. He hurried to the door, sniffed around it, both in the kitchen and outside in the main room, and then darted back into the kitchen once more.
Then it hit me. “You’re looking for candy, aren’t you? More of that licorice stuff you had last time.” So much for clues. Well, I was already there, might as well look around. There was nothing to find. No chalk outline, no stain of blood, no rolling pin—not that I’d expected there to be. It also didn’t look like the aftermath left from an inspection. The place was spotless. Even the appliances looked like they’d gotten wiped down, not even a trace from where they’d surely dusted for fingerprints. Now that I thought about it, I realized the same had been true for downstairs. The place was remarkably cleaner than the first time I’d seen it.
My irritation at Branson lessened further. I had no doubt it was thanks to him.
The kitchen wasn’t anything special. Though more updated than the one at my house, it lacked any amount of charm. And despite Opal creating her edibles here, none of the equipment was high quality. I looked down at the floor where I’d found Opal’s body. I could still see her lying there.
“I’m going to figure out who killed you, Opal. Although, let’s be honest, I’m doing it for Barry more than I am for you.” That was an understatement. “I am sorry for your loss. But just so we’re clear, I’m using the kitchen to warm up my lunch later on. If you have a problem with it, you better start haunting me now.”
Sorry for your loss? Is that what you should say to someone who’d been murdered?
And if that thought wasn’t enough to let me know I needed to be elsewhere, I didn’t know what was. I realized I still had my bag in my hand, so I went over to the refrigerator and put in my soup, the sandwich, and Watson’s chicken.
I gave Watson the cold shoulder as I walked out of the kitchen, not that he minded. “I’m going to eat your lunch, by the way. Good luck finding candy.” I wouldn’t do it of course, but it would serve him right.
After returning downstairs, I decided to get all the unpleasant tasks o
ver with, so I looked in the storeroom. I was certain the deep freezer would be empty. To my surprise, the freezer was gone. That seemed a little presumptuous. Maybe they’d seized it for evidence, and I’d get it back once they were done? After another moment of consideration, I decided to tell Branson to dispose of the thing, if possible, the next time I saw him. It wasn’t like I’d keep food or anything in it. I’d never be able to open the lid and not see a dead owl staring up at me.
I wandered from tiny room to tiny room that surrounded the large open space in the center. Once again my excitement built as I pictured how charming the place was going to be. Even if it was dreary and rather depressing at the moment.
But I could fix that part easily enough.
As I walked to the windows, I considered. Everyone would be staring in, trying to catch a glimpse of the place Opal Garble was murdered, or to get a look at the woman who found her. Well, whatever. Just like with the kitchen, might as well get it over with. In less than five minutes, I’d ripped down all the paper covering the windows, and the morning sunlight filtered in, brightening up the place.
If I hadn’t been excited before, I was then. The shop almost glowed in all its wooden wonder. There was some damage from where taxidermy had been hung and age spots here and there, but nothing that endless bookcases wouldn’t fix.
Whatever irritation I still held against Branson faded away with him giving me the gift of getting in here quickly. I truly was ready to begin my new life. So ready, I had a moment’s thankfulness to Charlotte for stabbing me in the back. I shook the thought off quickly. I most definitely didn’t owe her any gratefulness. But the end result was enough money I could live on, if I was frugal, for the rest of my life. And Lord knew, there was no other way a person should open a physical bookshop in this day and age. Still, she’d stolen my career, and even though the settlement was substantial, it was nothing compared to what the publishing house would make by the time we hit retirement.
A friendly round face smiled at me from the window, startling me and ushering me back to the present. I’d been so caught in the past, it took me a moment to recognize who was waving at me. When I did, I hurried to the front door and let her in. “Katie! What are you doing here?” Dumb question. “Taking a break from the shop?”
Katie stepped inside. Before I could shut the door, Watson let out a torrent of barks from upstairs and then barreled down the steps, probably preparing for an intruder. He barked a couple more times, then pulled to a stop when Katie knelt and held out the back of her hand. With a sniff, he inspected, nudged her fingers with his nose in way of approval, and padded off once more. She smiled at me as she stood. “He’s not the most affectionate of little guys, is he?”
“Not hardly. Although he is with some people.” I rolled my eyes as I noticed him disappear back up the steps. He was determined, I’d give him that, at least where food was concerned. “He’s even affectionate with me at times. Typically when I have food. But he’s captured my heart, the little monster. He thinks I’m here to serve him. Which, at times, I think is right.”
“Well, he’s cute, that’s for sure.” She glanced around, scrutinizing, then returned to me. “No, the shops aren’t open yet. Everything’s up in the air.” She sighed. “It’s part of why I came downtown. I had to get out of the house. Then I saw the paper was down from the windows. I thought I’d say hi, see how you’re doing.”
For a heartbeat, I wondered if Katie was doing some of her own investigation, then realized I was being paranoid. “That’s sweet of you. I’m doing fine. Glad to be able to get back in here. It’s going to take a while to get everything set up, but I think it will end up being beautiful. A cozy little bookshop.”
“It’s a great place. And it’ll be a lot better now that it’s not filled with taxidermy.”
I shuddered. “At least the bar is set low.”
Katie fidgeted, nervous. She licked her lips before speaking again. “You redheads are able to wear the most god-awful colors and look wonderful. I simply don’t understand it.”
I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but most definitely not that. “Excuse me?”
She made a waving motion over my body. “You’ve got on a mustard-colored sweater over a pea-green and drab-brown speckled skirt. All of which are colors of baby vomit. And yet somehow, it makes your skin glow and your hair practically shine.”
She was right. Earth tones were most definitely my color, but still. “Uhm, thank you. I think.”
“Take me, for instance. If I put on any one of those colors, I’d instantly look sick, like I was dying. I have to stick to blues and greens and other jewel tones. Luckily, they’re my favorite anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”
What in the world was happening? “Well, your skin is already tanned and glowing the way it is, so I suppose that makes sense.”
She nodded. “I’m of Sicilian heritage.” Her gaze flicked around the shop. “We have good skin.”
“Katie.” I opted for bluntness. “What’s going on? It’s nice of you to come by and say hi, but we’ve entered this weird conversation of colors and fashion which I’m not really sure what to do with.”
She practically sighed in relief. “Ah, you’re right. I’m so sorry. I’ve just been starved for adult conversation. Anything. Even if it’s only about your horrible choice in colors.” She waved over my body again. “Not that you don’t look absolutely wonderful in them. But I needed to talk to someone who could offer some sort of mental stimulation greater than a five-year-old. I’ve been staying with Lois since Opal’s death, and I’m afraid I’m just a little… desperate.”
“It’s nice of you to stay with Lois during this hard time.” Katie had spoken so fast I had to replay some of the finer points before I could take in their meaning. “If I’m not mistaken, I was placing Lois to be quite a bit older than a five-year-old.”
Katie rolled her eyes. “I would’ve thought so too. I’ve worked around her for two years, and I had no idea she was like she is.” She bugged her eyes. “I have a whole new respect for Opal, and that’s saying something. If I’d been Opal, it probably would have been Lois you found dead up there.”
What a strange thing to say. Lois… and what a thought. An interesting one. “Well, you’ve got me now. Want to have a seat and tell me about it?” I motioned toward the folding chairs Branson and I had sat on just a few days ago.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t dream of it. I know you’ve got a billion things to do.” Even as she spoke she headed toward the chairs and plopped down. “But if you have a second, I won’t turn it down. I’m sure it’s horrible to make a joke like this, but you might just be saving me from murder.”
I sat in the other chair across from her. I desperately wanted to hear what Katie had to say. As scattered as she was, it felt important, but the way we were seemed a little awkward. Like a police investigation or something. “We can go up to the kitchen. There might be tea or something to eat up there. If nothing else, I have some tomato soup we could share. If that doesn’t make you too nervous.”
Katie looked at me puzzled. “Why would that make me nervous?”
“Well… the kitchen is where I found Opal.”
Her eyes brightened. “Oh! Right! That’s where Opal was making all her edible pastries and things. Maybe there’s still some supplies up there.” She was beginning to sound like I’d just given her a Christmas present. “Do you mind if I bake something while we chat? I’ll do something easy and quick. While living with Lois, I’ve not been allowed to make anything outside of vegan recipes that don’t allow any sugar.” She shook her head. “No sugar!”
Some of the affection I felt for her before returned. She was a strange woman, but I liked her immensely. “Absolutely. I love that you’re not timid about being in the same room where a woman died, and I suppose you’re offering to share whatever you make?”
“Of course!” With that, Katie practically launched from her chair, and though unintentional, did a nearly spot-on im
pression of Watson as she bounded up the stairs.
As I suspected, all ingredients had been stripped bare. Katie said the same was true for Opal’s shop.
Proving just how desperate she was, Katie made a run to the grocery store and was elbow deep in flour and powdered sugar as she made the crust for lemon bars.
I liked Katie already, but I was fairly certain that by the end of the baking process, I would practically be in love with the woman. I gave her a chance to lose herself in the process before I began questioning. “So tell me, what’s so horrible about living with Lois? She seems like such a sweet old lady.”
“She is! She’s a darling little lamb.” Katie spoke freely as she measured, then poured powdered sugar into the mixer. “But that said, she is one intense little lamb.”
Funny, Katie was the second person to compare Lois to a lamb.
She motioned down to Watson, who hadn’t left her side since she started baking. “She’s quite literally been so under my feet that I practically keep tripping over her. She’s always been nice to me, but it’s like we’re suddenly best friends or sisters.” She angled a telltale glance my way. “Conjoined sisters more like.”
Katie chuckled at her own joke, and I chimed in. Lois definitely sounded more intense than I would’ve expected, but she’d been fairly shattered when she’d come into Victorian Antlers two days before, so maybe it was to be expected. “She does seem rather fragile. Don’t you imagine she’s just afraid to be alone?”
“I’m sure that’s it, of course it is. And I feel horrible being critical. But I haven’t had a moment to myself. Thank the Lord she had a hair appointment, and those always take her hours.”
I started to nod, then hesitated. “Her hair appointments take hours? I could see that for Opal, not for Lois. Her hair looks natural.”
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