by Hillary Avis
“Hey, you got your keys back. Is that what you were looking for yesterday?”
“Yeah,” he said sheepishly, turning faintly pink. “I was hoping I had an extra set stashed somewhere, but I didn’t. Then I found them when I was taking out the trash last night! Someone threw them away.”
“You think Marigold tossed them before she went to meet the train?”
Trevor shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now.”
“You’re not even a little curious? I mean, it’s not like she planned to be killed, so why would she throw them away? If she’d had a regular, non-murdered day, you would have come looking for the keys and chewed her out. It had to be the killer who tossed them!”
Trevor looked skeptical. “Maybe it was just someone who found them on the floor.”
“If I found a big fat ring of keys, I’d turn them in to the stationmaster.”
“Well, you’re not everyone, and not everyone wants to deal with Ben.” Trevor scanned the concourse and shook his key ring, still on the lookout for Caboose.
Wait. The cat had been by the restrooms when Marigold was killed! If Trevor was doing his rounds at that time, why was Caboose prowling around the hallway by the restrooms instead of in the maintenance tunnels? Bethany stood up straight, a burning question propelling her upright. “If you didn’t have your keys until you took the garbage out at night, how did you do your maintenance rounds yesterday? Did you borrow Ben’s keys?”
Trevor took a few steps toward the kiosk and leaned in, looking faintly ill. In a low voice he said, “Can you keep a secret? I feel terrible—I didn’t actually do my rounds yesterday. I hid in the maintenance closet so that Ben wouldn’t realize I didn’t have my keys. He was already so angry that I’d loaned my keys to Marigold that I was afraid of telling him that she hadn’t returned them. I thought he might fire me, and this would definitely be terrible timing to lose my job. Did you know my wife was due yesterday?”
“I didn’t know that. So wait, you were lying about being in the tunnels when Marigold was killed?”
“I only nudged the truth a little bit sideways. I was in the maintenance closet instead of the tunnels. Either way, I couldn’t see anything—I wasn’t on the platform. I wish I had been, though. Maybe I could have stopped it from happening if I had done my rounds.”
“You realize that means she might have been with someone on the platform.” Bethany shook her head.
“She should have given my keys back to me! Then she wouldn’t be dead, and I wouldn’t be this close to losing my job!” Trevor pinched his fingers together to show exactly how close he meant. “She’s so selfish! She knew we needed the money.”
Bethany’s ears perked up. Did Trevor know about the check? “The money?”
“Yeah, my paycheck. I told her Ben would can me if I didn’t do my rounds. She knew about the new baby and everything. And she still didn’t return the keys. What a piece of work, making me look bad in front of my boss. But I guess the joke was on her in the end.”
Not a very funny joke. Trevor didn’t seem to care very much that Marigold had been murdered. He cared a whole lot more about keeping his job. Was he willing to kill to keep it, though? It was hard to tell if he was being serious, but he definitely needed the money.
“Did you know that Marigold had fifty thousand dollars on her when she was killed? In her bra. Murderer took her purse, but didn’t know about the check. Or at least, didn’t know where it was.”
Trevor’s jaw dropped. “If I’d known she had that much cash, I’d have asked her for a loan!”
His surprise seemed genuine enough. “Any idea where she got it?” Bethany asked.
“Nah. Well, maybe she took it from Ben’s office when she went in there to get her bag.”
She laughed out loud, thinking of Ben with his adding machine. “Since when does Ben have fifty thousand dollars?”
“Since, uh”—Trevor scratched his head—“Monday afternoon? He got an anonymous donation to the restoration fund in that exact amount. He told us about it at poker that night.”
“What?!”
“I know, can you believe that? Someone just giving fifty thou away. Some people are too rich for their own good.” He jangled his keys again, and Caboose came running from the Honor Roll. Trevor glanced at the clock. “About time, you darn cat. Shoot, I have to hustle now to finish up on time. Good luck unloading that oyster stew.”
Bethany settled her chin back on her hand while she contemplated something uncomfortable—she shared Trevor’s suspicions that Marigold had stolen the check. That wasn’t so uncomfortable, even though she didn’t usually see eye-to-eye with the bumbling custodian. What was making her stomach hurt was that it meant Ben had a real motive to kill Marigold. Bethany realized that for all her nosiness, she didn’t really want to find out the identity of the murderer—not if it was someone she knew.
The 12:55 train came in before she had time to think much about it, and she served a steady stream of customers. By the time the crowd of passengers thinned out, she was pretty much down to the bottom of her pot. Sales were not as disappointing as she thought they’d be; she just had to work a couple of hours longer.
She erased the chalk board and served herself the last bowl. Even after a few hours on the warmer, the stew was still delicious—fragrant and piquant. Hmm, a food feature wouldn’t have been the end of the world, even if the soup wasn’t for everyone.
As she ate the last few bites, she noticed Ryan walk through the entrance to Newbridge Station, a watch cap pulled down over his forehead and the collar of his Army surplus jacket turned up. Her first instinct was to duck behind the counter to avoid having another exhausting conversation with him about her soup artistry, but with her luck, he’d probably see her.
“Ryan!” she called to him as he walked toward the Honor Roll. He startled and looked up. When he recognized her, he raised a hand in greeting. He stopped for a moment, apparently torn about whether to come over to the kiosk or pick up the leftover bread from Olive. She waved at him. “Stay warm out there!”
He nodded and flashed a brilliant smile before opening the door to the bakery and going inside. She sighed with relief and hurried to close the curtains around her kiosk and hang up the “closed” sign before he came back out.
While Bethany cleaned up the kiosk, she reflected on the million dollar question about Marigold’s murder. Well, actually, the fifty-thousand-dollar question. Now that she had a minute to gather her thoughts, she reasoned that maybe the dollar amounts were a coincidence. Just because Marigold had fifty K and the donation was fifty K didn’t mean they were the same money. The anonymous donation was probably safe and sound in the historic restoration fund.
After all, Marigold had been not selling smoothies for months now. She had to have some other source of money to pay her bills. Maybe the check in her bra was just a simple errand—she could have withdrawn her funds to move them to a new account at another bank. Or maybe she was putting a down payment on a house or buying a food truck. There were a million explanations, and it was silly to jump to the conclusion that Marigold had stolen the money from Ben’s office.
Still...it didn’t hurt to ask if the restoration fund donation was missing, did it?
BEN WAS LAYING ON THE floor under his desk with one arm flung over his face when Bethany entered the stationmaster’s office. With his other arm, he motioned for her to close the door. “Please tell me you have some good news. Anything. Tell me it’s not going to rain tomorrow.”
Bethany checked the weather app on her phone. “Sixty percent chance of rain.”
Ben groaned. “You’re terrible at this good news thing.”
“Are you lying on the floor because you’re upset about the restoration fund donation being stolen?”
Ben sat up so fast that he banged his head on the underside of his desk. “How did you know about that?”
“I didn’t know for sure, but the cops said Marigold had a big check stuffed in her bra, and Trevor sai
d you got a big anonymous donation to the fund. Plus, I knew that Marigold had the keys to your office yesterday. Well, the keys to everything.” She kneeled down beside Ben. “Do you want some ice for that?”
He rubbed his forehead and stood up, wobbling only slightly. “No, I’m fine. I mean, I’ve been better, but I don’t need first aid.”
Bethany got to her feet and brushed the carpet lint off the knees of her black jeans. “I guess she took the check when she came in here to get her purse.”
“Evidently. Trevor really screwed the pooch by lending her his keys. He’s not supposed to let anyone touch them. I’d like to fire the guy, but it’d take weeks to get a new custodian up to speed.”
“He thought he was helping you out by doing your girlfriend a favor.”
Ben picked up his desk chair and slammed it down on the floor. “She wasn’t my girlfriend!”
Bethany put up her hands defensively and took a step back.
Ben shook his head. “Sorry. People just keep saying that, and it isn’t true.”
“If she wasn’t your girlfriend, then why didn’t you go to the police when you realized she stole the check?” Bethany eyed the door and mentally planned her escape route, just in case Ben’s temper flared again. He didn’t blow up, though. Instead, he hung his head.
“Well, I told her about the money at our poker night. She wouldn’t have even known about it if I hadn’t said anything.”
Bethany snorted. “That doesn’t mean she had a right to take it. I mean, Trevor heard about the donation, and he didn’t steal it. And if he had, you’d have reported him!”
“I probably would have if it were Trevor,” Ben admitted. “Or Garrett—he was playing that night, too. But there were some complications when it came to Marigold. The morning after the poker game, she told me that if I didn’t give her the donation money, she’d report me to the ZamRail regional director for a hostile workplace. Harassment.”
Bethany gasped. “But why? She didn’t have any evidence of that, did she?”
Ben sank heavily into his desk chair and put his head in his hands. “Actually, she did. She has all kinds of text messages and love letters from me.”
“Well, I’m sure you have the same from her, right? What’s the big deal if you had an off-hours flirtation?”
“That’s the thing. Once I looked at the messages, I realized that her replies were always neutral and professional on paper, even though she told me she loved me in person. That’s why I said...” he broke off as his voice choked.
“That she wasn’t your girlfriend,” Bethany finished. “You thought she was, but when she tried to blackmail you for the donation money, you realized she was just pretending. And you gave her the check because you didn’t want to lose your career, which is why you didn’t report it as a theft to the police.”
He jerked his head up from his hands. “No! That’s just it! I thought about it all day Tuesday and decided that restoring the station was more important than my pension. So when she came by Tuesday night to collect the check, I told her no way. I wasn’t going to do it. She screamed at me, but I stayed firm. I guess that’s when she decided to steal it.”
Bethany nodded. “And she left her purse in your office on purpose so she had an excuse to come back, preferably when you weren’t there.”
“That idiot Trevor let her in,” Ben said bitterly. “I realized the check was gone as soon as I got to work on Wednesday. I confronted her about it and told her that she had twelve hours to return the money, or I’d call the cops. I said my career wasn’t important to me if it meant Newbridge Station crumbled to the ground. Surprisingly, she apologized and agreed to bring it back.”
“Or said she would, anyway,” Bethany said dryly. She’d already lost faith that Marigold had any good intentions.
“I think she meant it. I believed her, anyway.” Ben shrugged.
“So what’d you do after she promised to return the money?”
“I reprimanded Trevor for loaning out his keys.”
Bethany nodded. That matched up with Trevor’s version of events, too. “Right, I saw you when I came into the station. Then what?”
“Back to my office to do the bookkeeping.”
“And after that?”
Ben stared at her, puzzled. “I went to the men’s room. While I was in there, I got the emergency call from the 10:55 train that someone had been hit.”
“Hmm.” Bethany frowned. The last time she’d asked Ben about his alibi, he’d said he was in his office when he got the call.
“What?”
“Well. Your story changed a little bit. You didn’t mention the restroom visit before.”
“I just remembered. After I ran some numbers, I went to the bathroom.”
“OK.” Bethany’s heart sank. She knew for a fact that he wasn’t in the men’s room at the time of the murder because Jen was in the men’s room. She’d seen Jen go in with her own eyes. Why was Ben lying about this? It’s not like being in the restroom was a better alibi than being in his office. Either way, nobody could corroborate it.
What was Ben hiding behind his wishy-washy non-alibi? Could it be murder? Maybe he gave Marigold the money and then changed his mind and asked for it back. He might have killed her when she wouldn’t hand over the check.
“I wish I’d done the rounds that day. I always wait on the platform until the train pulls in.” Ben shook his head. “If someone was trying to hurt her, I’d have stuck up for her.”
Bethany shook her head in disbelief that anyone could be that forgiving. “Really? You don’t think Marigold might have deserved it after what she did to you? I mean, if she stole fifty grand from you and you weren’t mad enough to push her off a platform, imagine what she must have done to someone else!”
Ben shook his head. “She didn’t steal from me. She stole from the fund, or from the donor if you want to get specific. I know what you’re getting at, but I didn’t hurt Marigold.”
Oops, and I thought I was being subtle. Bethany crossed her arms, her face burning. “Well, who do you think killed her, then? Any theories?”
“I don’t want to cast blame.”
“But...?”
Ben winced. “Well, Trevor asked me if he could borrow some money last week. He had some debts—gambling debts—that he wanted to pay back before the baby came. I know he owed Marigold at least a grand. Possibly she called in the debt? That might have led to a fight on the platform when he was doing his rounds. I’m sure he didn’t mean to do it.”
Except he didn’t do the rounds, Bethany said silently. Trevor wasn’t there. Or he said he wasn’t there. Now that she thought about it, neither Trevor nor Ben had a real alibi. She had to sort out which parts of their stories made sense and which didn’t—she couldn’t keep taking them at their word, especially when those words changed every time she talked to them!
“That’s a decent theory,” she said. “But if he needed money, why didn’t he steal the big fat check?”
“Well, her purse was missing, right? He probably thought the check was in there.” Ben shook his head. “I still can’t believe she’s gone. I thought I’d get to yell at her again, and maybe even reconcile.”
Bethany softened at his words. “You loved her in spite of her bad behavior.”
Ben nodded. “Shameful, isn’t it? What we do for people. What we can forgive.”
KIMMY CROSSED HER ARMS as she stood in the middle of their little yellow kitchen. “Well, I can’t forgive her for stealing the restoration fund money. Who did she think would suffer if the station closed? You, Olive, everyone who works in that place, not to mention all the people in Newbridge who use the train. She’s the definition of selfishness.”
Charley swiped a pinch of cheese from the cutting board where Bethany was grating parmesan for their pasta. “Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” she mumbled through her mouthful.
Kimmy stuck out her tongue. “Isn’t that what you do all day? Go around uncovering the dirty secret
s, the ulterior motives, the ugly impulses?”
Charley grabbed her chest and pretended to fall on the floor. “That one hurt, Kimmy. You got me right in the heart.”
“Well, isn’t it? You dig up the stuff nobody is supposed to know. It’s like people have been reading a book of their lives, and you show up to read them a new chapter that changes the context of everything they’ve experienced. You tell them, ‘No, this person you thought was your loving partner or child is actually a bad guy.’ And then you ask them why.”
Charley’s forehead creased. “Geez, Kimmy, what crawled up your butt? What I do every day is go out there to make sure the bad guys are caught so they don’t hurt people. That’s it.”
“Who are you going to interrogate now?” Kimmy pursed her lips. “Which of our friends?”
“Cut it out, please,” Bethany said from the sink, where she was draining the pasta. “You two are driving me crazy with all your bickering.”
Charley ignored her, eyes trained on Kimmy. “Is that why you’re picking this fight? You think I’m going to arrest someone you know and like for the murder of someone you didn’t like?”
Kimmy’s chin quivered, and she sat down hard on the stool by the counter. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Aw.” Charley crossed the kitchen and pulled Kimmy to her chest. She kissed the top of her head and left her lips there an extra moment. “You know I have to be fair. I have to do my job according to the law, not according to Kimmy, as much as I’d like to.”
“Do you think you have enough evidence for an arrest?” Bethany asked quietly. She dished the hot pasta onto three plates and smothered the noodles with puttanesca.
Charley sprinkled some of the parmesan on her plate of food and sat down at the counter. She stuck her fork into the pasta and twirled it around, but stopped before taking a bite. “Yeah. From what you’ve said, there’s a lot of evidence pointing to one person.”
Kimmy put her hands over her ears. “Na na na na, I can’t hear you!”
