by Liz Schulte
The inside of the house was neat and orderly. The living room had a quaint prairie charm down to what looked like a stuffed raccoon in the corner by the firewood and basket of pinecones. It was rustic in a charming log cabin sort of way. My room was up a narrow staircase on the second floor and overlooked the front of the house. The walls were dark gray, and a stark white quilt covered the canopy bed. There were two chairs and a fireplace with its own little stack of wood. “It’s beautiful,” I told Martha.
“It’s my favorite.” She looked around, pleased. “I made that quilt myself. I never imagined I’d be making quilts and running a bed and breakfast when I went to art school, but such is life.” She laughed and pointed to her right. “The bathroom’s through that door, and breakfast’s at 7:00 a.m. sharp. I’m usually around so just holler, but for the odd time I’m out, here’s my cell phone number.” She handed me a ring with two keys on it. “This is for the front door—I lock up at 10:00 p.m.—and this is the key for your room. Let me know if you need anything at all, dear.”
I put my bag on the bench at the end of the bed and laid my laptop near the headboard. No television, no Gabriel, nothing to distract me from work. I ran a brush through my hair and checked my makeup before I left, locking the room behind me—and double-checking for old time’s sake. I told Martha I had to run to the sheriff’s office and then I’d be back to discuss Mary with her.
Deanna was at the front desk again. She smiled and waved as I walked in, then lifted the phone and called the sheriff. Before I could even sit Fagan opened the door and beckoned me inside. Once again he led me through the bullpen and back to his office.
“Thank you for stopping by again, Ella. Where’s your friend?”
“At work.”
He nodded and handed me a thin file folder.
“This is all you have on a murder investigation? No wonder you didn’t solve it.”
His smile froze and his voice took on an edge that wasn’t entirely friendly. “That’s all I’m willing to share with you—a civilian.”
“Great, gee thanks.” I started to stand, but he motioned me to stay put.
“I could be willing to give you a little more if you were willing to do one or two things for me.”
“Excuse me?” He couldn’t have possibly just asked what I thought he had. I was about to let him have a piece of my mind when he shook his head.
“Nothing lascivious—a book signing at the local bookstore and an appearance or two with me. Mary Nelson’s murder has shaken the community’s faith and it’s an election year. A little good PR would help me tremendously.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re trying to bribe me with evidence in a murder that I’m helping you solve? Wouldn’t you get more votes out of a closed investigation than from a few appearances with me?”
“I know your past. Managing to solve one crime doesn’t make you a detective. You knew everyone involved in that one, and it still took you over a year to find the killer. You don’t know anyone here. I have no delusions that you’ll solve anything. I’m simply asking you to scratch my back if I scratch yours. You’ll have better material for your book, and I’ll have a better public image.”
I rolled my neck from side to side and mentally counted to ten. Could Fagan be any more of a jerk? “What kind of evidence are we talking about?”
He flashed his shark-like smile. “Crime scene photos.”
“Interviews?”
“No.”
“Then no deal.”I tapped my foot impatiently, as he tried to stare me down. After years of practice with Dr. Livingston, my old psychiatrist, I was unflappable.
“Bookstore signing, four public appearances of my choice, and I get daily, in person, updates on your investigation.”
“Fine.”
We shook hands on it, and he held my hand longer than I liked. “Partners.”
“Whatever. Give me the rest. I have your job to do.”
“You’ll have to come back tomorrow. I’ll set up the bookstore event.”
I left with my file, ignoring the deputies who stared at me and the sinking feeling I’d regret this deal. Deanna stopped me for the picture I hadn’t taken with her and I obliged. By the time I got out of the office, I wanted to scream, or better yet, drink. It was easier with Gabriel here yesterday than it was to do this alone. I shoved the thought aside. I was never a codependent person before, and I wasn’t going to become one now.
I walked around the town, getting a feel for its layout, clutching my file and clearing my head, as the cold wind bit at my exposed skin and made my nose run. I couldn’t let Fagan get to me or he’d have the upper hand.
A large, stone courthouse marked the center of the community with a bell tower, and the several streets surrounding the courthouse had shops and doctors’ offices. Most of the hotel and restaurant chains were pushed to the outlying edges and small neighborhoods kept the distance between the old and the new areas. I got back to the B &B hours later. I was cold and tired, but ready to dive into the investigation. Martha poked her head out of the kitchen.
“Did Sheriff Fagan keep you at the station talking? Pretty girl like you, I bet he did. He’s always had an eye for the ladies.” She put her hands on her hips and waved a wooden spoon at me. “You two would make an adorable couple.”
I laughed as I entered the kitchen. “No. I went for a walk.”
Martha looked me up and down, her eyes lingering on my empty ring finger. “He’s single, you know.”
“Imagine that.” I rubbed my arms, trying to warm up.
“You must be frozen to the bone. Have a seat. I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”
“That’d be great, thank you. I’ll be right back.” I headed upstairs, used the washroom, and then, since I was there anyway, dropped the folder in my room and collected my notebook and pen. When I got back, I took a seat while Martha fluttered around the kitchen. “So you knew Mary Nelson? Did you know her well?”
“As well as most I suppose. She was a sweet girl. A little quiet, but always obliging. She helped me out here sometimes during the summer seasons, especially after my own daughter died. Never late once. Very dependable.”
“I’m so sorry—how did your daughter die?”
“She got in with a bad crowd and overdosed at a party. Mary would never have done such a thing. Had Cindy stayed friends with her, she’d still be alive.” Martha shook her head, traces of wistfulness in her eyes.
I gave her a minute, let her pour us each a mug of steaming cocoa, before gently asking, “Do you know who Mary’s friends were?”
“Well, she always hung around that Nikki Obermiller girl. Never liked her much, but it wasn’t my business. And she dated Bryan Jenkins since they were in junior high. He took her death very hard. Hasn’t been the same since.”
“Death is hard to overcome. Anyone else?”
“She didn’t really talk about her social life while we worked. I suppose Nikki or Bryan would know more about her friendships than I do.” She pushed my untouched mug closer. “Drink up.”
I took a sip. A scorching heat stung my lips and made me jerk back in pain. I lowered the cup and blew on it. “What do you think happened to Mary?”
“I think she stopped to help someone. She was always so nice, too nice maybe.”
I nodded. It was as possible as any other scenario.
“What do you think happened?” she asked me.
I tapped the pen on my notebook. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Martha squeezed my hand, her eyes watery. “You’re doing a fine thing helping Jennifer like this.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“You will. I can see it in your eyes. Determination. You’re a good girl, like Mary.”
I took another sip of my hot chocolate despite the burning heat, so I could avoid the uncomfortable gratitude.
“You should go upstairs and rest; then you can have dinner with me tonight. I’d be glad for the company.”
“Oh… Um, okay.” I took my hot chocolate and my notebook back upstairs, unlocked the door to my room, and sat the mug on the coaster on the nightstand. Lying on the bed, I read my notes, but nothing popped out at me. My eyelids grew heavy and I set the notebook to the side, deciding to take a nap before I looked at the case file. Sleep had nearly carried me away when I heard a whisper.
“Help me.”
I bolted upright, my eyes darting around the room. “Hel-hello? Mary?”
Nothing. I didn’t feel anything in the room. Maybe I was dreaming.
I shook my head. Not again. I just imagined it. No one said help me. I went to bathroom, splashed water on my face, and patted it dry. Too much stress, too soon. My gray eyes in the mirror were frightened and wide. I can do this.
I must’ve gotten worked up talking about Mary with Martha. There was no way I’d really heard someone say, “Help me.”
I had no problem believing Mary—or her ghost anyway—was at Jennifer’s house, but she couldn’t be in Martha’s too. At least I didn’t think so. Honestly, though, I didn’t know much about ghosts. I made a mental note to do some research and to see if I could get Grant to talk to me again next time I was home. Grant didn’t frighten me. Strangely enough, I thought of him as a friend. My cell phone rang and I scrambled out of bed, picking it up just before the voicemail. “Hello.”
“Where are you? Are you okay?”
“Gabriel?” Shit. I forgot to call him. “I’m in Jackson. I forgot to call you.”
“Is Lloyd on his way? Do you know how late it is? Did you find anything today?”
“I’m staying here for a little while. I can’t have Lloyd drive me back and forth every day while I investigate, so I got a room at a bed and breakfast in the center of town. The lady who runs it is really nice.”
I was met with silence.
“Hello, Gabriel? Are you still here?”
“You’re staying in Jackson? How long?” Gabriel’s voice sounded odd, which put me on edge.
“As long as it takes.”
There was another long pause.
“What?” I snapped. He obviously wanted to say something, so his saying nothing at all totally infuriated me.
“I don’t like it.”
“Well, I don’t recall asking for your permission.” I cringed as soon as the words left my mouth.
He gave a bitter laugh. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Every time I move one step closer, you run as fast as you can in the other direction. Eventually, I’m going to get tired of chasing you.”
“Is that a threat?” Annoyance clouded any reasoning that might’ve allowed me to see his point. If he wanted to leave, I wasn’t holding him back. I’d manage.
He sighed. “No, not a threat. A frustrating as hell fact.”
“Well, I’m sorry to be such a bother.” My head throbbed. Afternoon naps never sat well with me. I knew I was being irrational and there was nothing he could say that would make me happy right now. I needed to get off the phone before I said something I’d regret.
“Where are you staying?”
“Why?” Absolutely nothing in me wanted to cooperate with him.
“Because I can’t fight with you over the phone.”
“I don’t want to fight with you in person.”
“Damn it, Ella, stop being difficult.”
“I’m tired and my head hurts. I’m eating; then I’m going back to bed. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I hung up before he could protest. Gabriel wasn’t going to run my life, no matter how well intentioned he was. I left my phone on my bed and went downstairs to have a peaceful dinner with Martha. What I found in the kitchen wasn’t a peaceful dinner, however. It was a dinner party. I was in the process of turning around and retreating to my room when Martha spotted me.
“Ella! I hope you don’t mind, but I invited some friends over to meet you. I thought it would be a nice welcome to Jackson. Maybe you’ll like it here so much we’ll tempt you into staying.”
I forced a smiled and wished for the days when I still would’ve walked away. Believing I was insane gave me a certain latitude where my behavior was concerned. “Great.” I failed my attempt at enthusiasm, but hoped I at least hit the mark for pleasant. Martha had been nice, and I didn’t want to offend her.
“We’re waiting on one more guest—someone you know.” She winked at me.
I scrambled to think of whom I knew in Jackson. She wouldn’t have invited Jennifer, would she? I couldn’t imagine she’d be up for an impromptu dinner party, but maybe. I silently cheered her on. It would be amazing if she could get herself out of the house and conversing with the public. I still didn’t do well at that. The doorbell rang and Martha scurried off to answer it. I stood awkwardly on the edge of the kitchen and watched the people laughing and talking. A fit middle-aged man with thin, wire rimmed glasses turned to me.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ella. I was glad to hear you were in town. I’m a fan.”
“Thank you. What is it that you do?”
“I own a bookstore. My name is Victor, Victor McCoy. Sheriff Fagan said you agreed to do a book signing?”
I must’ve nodded.
“Wonderful! We’ll have to meet to go over the details. People will be so excited to have you here.”
“Um, yeah. That’d be great.”
“Wonderful, wonderful. No talking shop tonight, though. Don’t want to ruin Martha’s dinner party.” He smiled and looked toward the door.
Martha was there, but not with Jennifer. With Fagan. Could this night get any freaking better? Martha clasped her hands in front of her and spoke. “I guess we should make some introductions so our guest of honor won’t feel so out of place.”
Holy Jesus, she can’t be serious. But she was. I had the distinct impression the universe was getting revenge for the last couple months. Each person in the room turned to stare at me, and I did my best not to squirm. I wished I’d told Gabriel where I was. Fighting with him would’ve been a hundred times better than this. One by one, everyone introduced themselves. Of course there was Fagan—freshly shaven, not a hair out of place, and bright blue eyes taking in every nervous tick I had. Next to Victor were Peggy, the high school principal, and her husband Donald, a manager at a farm equipment plant. The last couple was William and Lola Laurie, some sort of politician and his real estate agent wife. They all watched me expectantly. It took me a moment to realize it was my turn to introduce myself.
“Oh, sorry. I’m Ella Reynolds. Writer, recluse, and not very good at things like this.”
Everyone chuckled and began talking again as we were seated. I managed to speak the bare minimum and forced a smile whenever necessary. When dinner was over, I let the manic smile drop from my face and edged toward the stairs and freedom. I didn’t see Fagan headed in my direction until it was too late. He cut me off and ushered me into the living room.
“I didn’t know you were staying in Jackson.”
“Yeah…”
“You don’t like me very much, do you, Ella?”
“I can’t say that I do, Sheriff.”
He laughed. “Please call me Carter. I could be a very good friend to have on your side.”
“When you aren’t trying to use me to your advantage or keeping evidence from me, you mean?”
“Using you to my advantage is a necessary evil. We’ll both gain from it. You’ll get your new book and become even more famous. I’ll win the election… I don’t see why you’re so bent out of shape.”
“Funny, I thought catching killers was more important.”
Fagan shook his head. “Whoever killed her is a ghost. He’s gone. If we ever had a shot of catching him, we’ve missed it.”
“That’s what they thought about my husband’s killer, too. Maybe you just haven’t looked at it from the right angle.”
He leaned in close enough I could smell his faded aftershave. “You really
think you can break this case?”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Victor lurking in the doorway.
“Do you need something?” My voice was harsher than I intended, unnerved by Fagan’s closeness.
“Um, have either of you seen Martha? I just remembered the funniest story.” Victor seemed nervous and fidgety, but I didn’t know him well enough to know if that was strange.
I shrugged. “Maybe she’s in the kitchen or had to use the restroom.”
“I’ll check.” He waved and walked out.
I looked back to Fagan. “I can solve the case.” I spoke with more bravado than I felt. I had no idea what I could do, but I wasn’t going to admit that to him.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Care to put your money where your mouth is?”
I perched a hand on my hip. “You want me to bet on a job you should’ve been able to do yourself?”
“Sure. You can have full access to the case report at the police station; I’ll even give you an interview room to work out of. If you solve the case, you’ll get the satisfaction of solving the biggest murder Jackson has ever had. If you can’t solve it, I get editorial privileges on your book. I have a reputation to protect after all.”
“Only where it comes to parts about you?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” I agreed because I wasn’t planning to include his arrogant ass in my book at all. I was telling Mary’s story, not his.
“Shall we seal the deal with a kiss?” His eyes had a mischievous glint, but I was in no mood to be teased.
“I wouldn’t take another step near me if you value your reputation and your ability to procreate.”
“I’m not scared of you.” He moved closer and brushed a hair off my cheek as I glared at him. I held my ground, clenching my fists until my knuckles ached.
“Am I interrupting?” Gabriel’s voice came from behind me.
I looked at him with mixed feelings: gladness at seeing him, annoyance about our fight.
“Not at all. We were just coming to an arrangement,” Fagan said, ease dripping from his words. “The original deal still stands. I’ll see you in the morning, Ella.” He winked at me before he left, never looking at Gabriel.
