Mitch’s gaze cut to mine, then back to Wayne’s. He pulled out a picture and showed it to him. “Do you recognize these people?”
Wayne’s eyes widened. “That’s them. Who are they?”
“Ray Simone and Kristen Peters, wanted suspects in the death of Gunther Corp.”
“Oh, boy,” I said, drawing Mitch’s gaze. “Mayor Cromwell isn’t going to be happy about this.”
“About what?” Wayne asked, looking worried.
I shook my head. “Looks like the Rebel Riders haven’t left town after all.”
13
“That’s amazing, Jo,” I said after sampling her chili recipe for the cookoff at the end of the festival. A mix of sweet and spicey flavors burst over my tongue, with a hint of smokey sausage thrown in with the beef.
“I concur,” Mitch responded around a mouthful, and kept shoveling in more spoonfuls between moans of pleasure.
Jo slid a longneck bottle of beer down the bar, stopping exactly in front of me. Then she set three fingers of whiskey in front of Mitch.
He raised his glass in salute, then took a hefty sip and sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the soothing sounds of Seventies folk music filling the room. It had been a long day without much progress. “I hope you know I’m not giving up on the case.”
Jo frowned, rubbing her enormous belly. “Of course we know. Why would you ask?”
He paused from eating long enough to look her in the eye. “You called Detective Fuller instead of me when the fight happened out front.”
“Of course, she did,” Cole chimed in, as he restocked the glasses behind the bar. “I’m pretty sure the murder investigation is a full-time job. The last thing we want to do is distract you at all.”
“That’s what we figured,” I said. “We just wanted to make sure you both knew we’re doing everything we can to solve this case, and we won’t stop until we do.”
“Crazy what happened to Wayne Emerson,” Miles said as he moved from his table to the bar and took a seat next to Mitch. Zoe bused his table, taking the dishes in the back to Sean. Cole handed Miles a beer, and he saluted in thanks. “I remember the Rebel Riders, and when you went back to them. I always thought Gunther Corp had a screw loose. I don’t blame anyone for killing him. The man was downright dangerous.” Miles shook his blond head, looking so much like his sister Faith it was uncanny.
“We all know you’re innocent, Cole.” Zack joined Miles a couple seats down with Morty on his lap. He’d relaxed considerably since Morty had become his service animal, which still amazed me. “Justice will prevail. You’ll see.” Cole handed him tequila, and Zack downed the shot on a wince. Morty jumped and then meowed at me. “Sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Zack said, and stroked his sleek white back.
Since when did Morty scare?
“I sure hope so.” Miles tipped his beer up for a long swig. “It would be a damn shame if justice doesn’t prevail. And damned unfair.”
“From your lips to the judge’s ears.” Cole took a rare shot of his own, then rubbed the chain link tattoo surrounding his thick neck. “I can’t go to prison. I just can’t.”
“Enough with the dreary attitude. None of us can afford to give up hope.” Cole’s secretary Cathy held her head high and nodded once at Cole as she sat beside Zack. “I have complete faith that Detective Stone and Ms. Meadows will figure this whole mess out. Have you found the murder weapon yet?” she asked Mitch.
“Not yet, but there’s only so many places to hide something like that in Divinity. It will turn up, I’m sure.”
“I still can’t figure out how it got out of my safe.” Cole scrubbed his buzzed head, lifting his broad shoulders.
“Are you positive you didn’t take it out and misplace it, then forget about it?” I asked, hoping he would remember something. Anything.
“It’s my gun, Sunny. I would no more lose track of that than Mitch would his.”
“You’ve got a point.” The scar along Mitch’s jaw pulsed as he stared off in thought for a moment. “It had to be someone who knew how to handle a weapon.”
“And someone who knew Cole,” Jo added.
“Actually, everyone in town knows Cole has a concealed-carry license since his correctional officer days, so it’s likely to assume he has a gun safe.”
“But who would know the combination?” I asked.
“Most locks can be picked, Tink. Once we figure out who might have the know-how, then we just might have a case.”
The next day Jo, Zoe, and I watched the ice sculpting contest after lunch. I’d had a couple clients first thing in the morning, but my afternoon was free. Winterfest drew locals and outsiders alike, and no one wanted to miss the ice sculpting contest. Amazing creations were formed, ranging from a train, a mama bear with cubs, the Statue of Liberty, and many other detailed objects. Sam the baker was the winner with his perfect replica of our resident swans, Fred and Ginger, on Inspiration Lake in Mini Central Park.
Kids were making snow angels and having snowball fights along the sides of Main Street, while the cross-country ski race was setting up in the road. There was enough snowpack, and the road had been blocked off since this morning. The entrants took their position at the starting line, most of them with ski rentals from the inn. Harry stood at the ready to send them off, while my father stood at the finish line at the edge of the ribbon tied across the street, ready to call the winner. At least they hadn’t been foolish enough to enter themselves after their crazy trip through the woods.
My mother still hadn’t forgiven my father for knocking her over.
Harry held his hand up high in the air with the blank gun pointing to the sky. “On your mark,” he called.
Everyone shifted their stance.
“Get ready,” he added in dramatic fashion.
People dug in their poles.
“Go!” He fired the gun, and the racers took off.
Everyone pushed off the starting line, scissoring their legs forward and backward, trying to get ahead of their competitors at any cost. There were nudges of shoulders and bumps of hips and poles slipping into skis. People were crazy when it came to a competition. The collective energy from the festival and the spectators watching the race was positive and happy. Everyone’s mood seemed to match the beauty of the day, and as I glanced to Jo, my hope was renewed that we would find our killer and clear Cole’s name. As the skiers neared the finish line, my father stood holding the finish-line pole as he stared straight across to be sure he could see exactly who won.
The ribbon broke and my father threw his hands in the air, shouting the number of the winner. Turns out it was Wally of Wally’s World gym. No surprise there. My father shook his hand and handed him a trophy. That was when I saw her.
Kristen Peters.
I’d never met her, but I’d seen enough pictures to know it was definitely her. I scanned the area but didn’t see Ray Simone.
“I’ll catch up with you girls later,” I said, keeping my eyes on Kristen. “There’s something I have to do.”
Jo and Zoe waved me off, then headed over to join my mother and Fiona. Granny Gert and Great-Grandma Tootsie had stayed behind with Ralph Peters to hold down the fort at the inn.
I hurried my steps and caught up to Kristen just as she left the Knitting Nanas’ booth and entered the booth run by the Sewing Sisters. She was eyeing a quilt as I walked up to her. She smiled at me then kept browsing.
“Beautiful work, isn’t it?” I asked, inspecting a blanket with cats stitched across it that I had my eye on.
“All the booths are very impressive this year.” She glanced towards Wayne’s Woodworks and frowned. “Well, most of the booths anyway.”
I followed her gaze. “Ah, yes. I heard the man was new to the festival, but I haven’t bought any of his material yet.”
“Don’t waste your time. It’s not very good.”
So I wasn’t the only one who thought his work wasn’t very good.
“A
nd the man is rude. He made a crude pass at me.”
Interesting. Wayne hadn’t mentioned that part. “Really? That must have been uncomfortable.”
“It sure was.”
“What did you do?”
“When I rebuked his advances, he got really angry with me and then started arguing with my friend.”
I picked up another blanket, inspecting the stitch work. “I heard a man punched Mr. Emerson in the face. Gave him a bloody nose and smashed his goods.”
“He deserved the bloody nose after how he was acting. And he is the one who smashed the goods, not my friend. The man flew into such a rage out of nowhere. It was scary. The man’s unstable if you ask me. We got out of there before he could do anything else.”
“I’m Sunny Meadows, by the way.” I held out my arm.
“Kristen.” She shook my hand.
“Kristen…?”
She hesitated a moment, studying me closer then dropped my hand. “Just Kristen.”
I smiled. “Where’s your friend? Maybe I’ve met him.”
“Who knows? He’s around here somewhere.” She inspected a set of placemats. “The man can’t sit still and hates to shop. I’m sure I’ll find him later.”
“You don’t mind if your husband leaves you alone in a strange town?” I stared down at the rings on her left-hand ring finger.
“Oh, no, he’s not my husband.” She shoved her hands in her coat pockets.
“Ah, I see.” I picked up a shawl, admiring the pattern.
“We’re just friends,” she hastened to add. “Well, I better get moving. I think the snowmobile race is going to start in thirty minutes, and I want a front row seat.” She started walking away in a hurry.
“It was nice to meet you.” I caught up with her. “If you ever need to talk, my house is right on the outskirts of town.” I handed her my card.
She studied my business card. “You’re a psychic?”
I nodded.
“I really do need to go, but I might take you up on that sometime.”
“My door is always open.” I smiled and waved, then headed to rent some equipment from my father. Forget about a front row seat. I had a race to enter.
This time my father stood at the starting line, and Harry was positioned at the finish line. Didn’t matter how old a man got, they were still boys on the inside who loved playing with their toys. I looked down the row of entrants, but it was impossible to tell who they were. They all wore dark helmets with tinted glass and bulky snowsuits. Good thing I had asked the inn’s maintenance man, Frank LaLone, to show me how all the equipment worked in case my father needed help. Still, I’d never actually driven one of these.
How hard could it be?
My father held the gun high in the air and counted us down, then pulled the trigger with a huge smile on his face. My mother flinched at the sound and plugged her ears. I would have laughed if I wasn’t terrified. Grumpy Pants was going to be livid once he found out what I’d done, but there was no turning back now. We’d been looking for Ray with no success. There was only one reason Kristen Peters was so excited to go to the snowmobile races. She must have known he would enter.
Everyone hit the throttle and took off into the woods. There were trails that went around the lake and ended up back in town at the finish line. I stalled my machine, but quickly got it started again. That put me in last place. Once I got the hang of things, I gunned the engine. It wasn’t long before I caught up to the others. The trail was barely wide enough to pass. I noticed many people doing so, and moving up their place to the finish line. I did the same until I realized one entrant dressed all in black never even tried to pass. In fact, if I wasn’t mistaken, he looked to be slowing down.
Maybe he had engine trouble? I thought about stopping, but something gave me pause. So, I kept moving forward and blew past him. He fell way behind until he disappeared out of sight. I rounded the next corner, once again behind the others because I’d been paying attention to the man in black. Suddenly, Morty was in front of me on a side trail, just sitting there, staring at me. I immediately stopped, but then he raced down the side trail. I tried to catch up to him, but he had vanished.
Crazy cat would get himself home. I’d stopped worrying about him after the first week he’d adopted me. We all knew Vicky, the ancient Victorian house I’d bought, was his and he’d decided to let me stay. We were kindred spirits. If he were in real trouble, I would know. The only reason I could think of for why he had appeared is that he was trying to tell me something.
I heard the sound of a snowmobile up ahead, so I slowed down and stopped behind a patch of trees. Bingo. Morty had shown me the way. The man in black came in from a side trail and headed even deeper into the woods away from the race. I followed at a safe distance. Looking further ahead, I sucked in a breath. He was headed to the cabin I had searched. When he pulled up beside it, I turned into the woods and cut my engine at the same time so he wouldn’t hear me. He took off his helmet and scanned the area. I knew it!
Ray Simone.
I could tell even from this far away that it was Ray. He was built like a Mac truck. There was no mistaking his stature. It had been ingrained on my brain from the moment I’d met him and Gunther outside of Nikko’s restaurant that fateful day. I stayed hidden amongst the trees as I traipsed through the woods to get a closer look.
He went inside the cabin, so I picked up the pace. Maybe Kristen had lied and really left the festival to go back to the cabin and meet him. But I could have sworn I saw her in the front row like she said she’d be. I kept moving forward, picking up a stick to use as a weapon if need be. I stopped at the edge of the woods by a snow-covered road.
That’s when I heard the car.
Ducking back under the cover of the trees, I waited. A woman exited the car and walked to the cabin door. She wore a different coat than Kristen, but it was hard to tell if it was her from this distance. Maybe she’d changed once she got in the car. Ray opened the door, his face sporting a cocky grin, and he kissed the woman smack on the lips. He stepped back and had her take off her coat and twirl before him.
The woman was most definitely not Kristen Peters.
She was dressed in a sexy, tight, slinky silver number with deep auburn waves of hair. Ray definitely had a type. She looked similar to Kristen, but younger. Besides, Kristen said she and Ray were just friends. This woman looked extra friendly based on her body language. He brought her inside and closed the door. That was my cue to leave.
We were in the middle of a race, after all. People were bound to notice if the man in black and the woman in red, aka me, didn’t return. They—meaning Detective Grumpy Pants—would come looking for sure. So, I quickly made my way back to my snowmobile and started her up.
The cabin door flew open and Ray came running out, searching the area. His hard stare landed on me.
Well, shoot.
I hit the throttle, praying I wouldn’t stall it this time, and bolted forward. It only took Ray a minute to throw his gear back on and follow me. He was a much better rider than I was. It didn’t take him long to catch up to me. He tried to pass me, but I veered left. Then he tried for the right and almost made it, but my sled sideswiped him and I remained in front.
Sorry, Dad.
One last push. He was almost on top of me. I could tell he intended to ram into me before we cleared the woods and came back into town. I gave the engine everything I had and exploded out of the woods just in time, my skis skidding in a full circle until I got the sled back under control and crossed the finish line seconds before Ray.
I came to a stop, my hands shaking as I took off my helmet. A beat of awkward silence hung in the chilly air before the crowd went wild. My father was over the moon, while my mother was oddly speechless with her jaw hanging open in a most unladylike fashion. I obviously didn’t win, but I didn’t come in last, either, which was hardly the point. I hadn’t entered this race caring about what position I finished in. I simply wanted answers, but I
would let my family have their moment. Fiona twirled about, hopping up and down in glee. Granny Gert would be upset about missing the show, as I was sure Fiona would relish in reliving the details.
Ray peeled off his helmet and met my gaze with a steely one of his own. Oh, boy. Back to reality. Now he knew I was at the cabin and had seen him with his other woman. Kristen ran over to his side with a questioning expression on her face until she followed his gaze to me. Her eyes widened like a deer in the headlights. Then Mitch walked in my direction with purposeful strides and an angry look on his face.
Something told me I wasn’t out of the woods just yet.
14
“Where were you the day Gunther Corp was murdered?” Detective Stone—he was most definitely not Mitch my fiancé today—sat behind the massive cherry desk in his office my mother had given him when they moved to Divinity. That desk had been with her throughout her law career, and she couldn’t part with it. The inn didn’t have a proper place for it—my mother’s words—so she’d decided to keep it in the family by handing the stately piece of furniture over to her future son-in-law. I think it was her way of saying you deserve this for putting up with my daughter.
Ray Simone grunted from where he sat in the chair across from him.
A single picture of the two of us sat on his desk, and that was all. The rest of his office was stark and bare. He didn’t believe in revealing much about himself, especially at work. That was something we were still working on.
Mitch hadn’t talked to me about the snowmobile race or why we were so late. He’d immediately questioned Kristen, and she’d pretty much told him the same thing she had told me. She was friends with Ray, and that was all. He was helping her in her time of need because she was afraid of her husband, Ralph. She admitted she’d had an affair with Gunther because her husband was always working and helping others, neglecting her. Someone had anonymously tipped him off about the affair, and she’d never seen him so angry. She’d been hiding out with Ray in Divinity ever since. She just hadn’t expected Ralph to follow.
Hazard in the Horoscope Page 12
