Rachel leaned back in her chair and sighed, taking a sip of Emily’s fresh roasted coffee. Through the window, she could see the last red curve of the setting sun, and the dark clouds gathering around it. Right now, the events of the day behind her seemed to fade away as the banter between brother and sister tossed back and forth. Her stomach was pleasantly full and despite the coffee, her eyes were growing a little heavy.
A sudden thought had her sitting bolt upright.
“The broken stiletto heel!” Rachel exclaimed. “Did you ever find out who it belonged to?”
Scott froze. He looked at Rachel very seriously, and said, “I should get going. Do me a favor though, and don’t announce that stiletto to the world. I’m keeping that close to my chest for now.”
“Oh. Sure. Gotcha.” Rachel’s cheeks turned a little pink at this admonishment.
“Wait. What stiletto heel?” Emily leaned forward eagerly. “A red stiletto was found at the crime scene? Are you serious?”
Rachel nodded. “I didn’t get a good look at what Mrs. Bingham was wearing so—”
“Mrs. Bingham hasn’t worn a red stiletto in all her seventy-plus years, and she’s not going to start anytime soon,” Emily scoffed. “But you know who has an actual collection of differently colored stilettos that she wears on every occasion?”
Rachel waited, though she suspected she already knew the answer. “Who?”
“Mia Harris! The stiletto is probably hers!” Emily exclaimed. “I’m telling you; she’s definitely murdered Gina Graham!”
*****
Chapter 6
Fire & Ice
The moon shone through the curtains, its silvery light shining upon a plastic cat figurine that sat on a table in Rachel’s room. Scooter was a dark mass curled up on the carpet, with just a hint of silver upon him as the moonbeams tickled his fur. He snored occasionally, fast asleep.
As she lay in bed, thoughts kept crowding through Rachel’s mind. There was a lot about Gina’s murder that disturbed her, but what disturbed her most was how little she knew about anything. Scott’s silence didn’t really bother her considering it was part of his job, but she did wish she at least knew what fingerprints they’d found at the scene, and whom they belonged to.
The red stiletto heel kept flashing through her mind when she shut her eyes; there was something about it. Something important that she was missing. But what? Rachel gave a little groan of frustration as she tried to figure it out. Even as she did, Mrs. Bingham’s pale, scared face floated in front of her. Was she just an innocent bystander caught up in a killer’s games? What had she been doing at Gina’s house? Why had she run off the way she did? Rachel made up her mind to go pay her a visit as soon as morning came. She needed answers.
At the foot of her bed, Scooter gave a little whine. Rachel sighed, threw off her bedcovers and went to sit by him. He looked up at her with his big melting, chocolate eyes, his ears drooping. He nudged his cold nose gently against her swelling eye, and Rachel winced a little. Scooter whined again. He placed his big face upon her thigh and gave her a mournful look. Rachel just wanted to cover him with kisses.
“Listen, you big duffer, it’s not your fault I got hurt,” Rachel said. “You can’t be around to protect me always, you know. Stop feeling guilty about it, or I’ll feel guilty that you feel guilty. Get it?”
In response, Scooter thumped his tail a little and shifted his head on her lap. Rachel felt her heart melt as she stroked his silky fur. In the blink of an eye, her little puppy had grown into this full-sized adult dog. But he was still her baby. She bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead.
He looked suddenly alert and wagged his tail a little. His eyes looked up at her with a hint of mischief.
“Oh, no,” Rachel said. “Don’t even think about it.”
He wagged his tail a little and looked at the door.
“I know what you want, and you’re not getting it. It’s past midnight, Scooter. We’re not going for a walk.”
At the last word, his body seemed to explode with delight. His tongue became a blur of motion, and he jumped up in excitement, licking her all over her face. Rachel flopped back on the floor and laughed as Scooter danced around the room. His whirling tail nearly knocked the cat figurine off the table, and Rachel automatically adjusted it.
“I need to baby-proof this place for you,” she said. “Actually, Doggy-proof is more like it.”
Scooter gave a little whine.
“Oh, alright,” she said, standing up and dusting herself off. “I’m not getting any sleep tonight anyway.”
Scooter gave a little woof, as if to say, “That’s the spirit.” And raced out of the room, returning back minutes later with a leash in his mouth. Rachel tugged at it, and as usual, he refused to hand it over.
“Impeccable logic there, doggo,” Rachel said. “You want to walk yourself? Is that it? Hand it over. Come on.”
At the mention of the word “walk” a second time, Scooter was over the moon. He jumped up so high he could have been in the Olympics. Rachel rolled her eyes and wrested the leash from him. In a few minutes, they were off.
The night sky was lit by a gibbous moon, and the streetlights cast faint light that scarcely disturbed the resting shadows. Main Street was deserted, and the brick houses and stores that lined it were Rachel’s silent companions as she walked down the road with Scooter by her side.
Comfort Cakes Bakery stood right in the middle of Main Street, with Emily’s Bull’s Café right across it. Three doors down was Tricia’s Cranium Books, and right at the end of the street was Gina Graham’s boutique. Idly, Rachel wondered who would buy up the store now that Gina was dead. Hers had been a popular store, with tourists and locals alike often stopping by. Rachel hoped some soulless chain store wouldn’t grab hold of it now.
Without really thinking about it, Rachel walked toward Gina’s boutique. She’d gone in herself once or twice, even though she and Gina hadn’t really interacted much. In fact, Rachel had a green dress hanging in her closet that she’d bought from Gina’s. A beautiful dress, at a very reasonable price. What more could you ask for? She stopped in front of the picture window and stared at the blank-faced mannequin. There was a red dress on display this time, looking like something a flamenco dancer might wear, all lace and ruffles.
Scooter whined and tugged at his leash, sniffing at Gina’s doorstep. Rachel pulled him away, but he whined some more and tugged on his leash again.
“We can’t go in there, buddy. Come on home now,” Rachel said. “Come on, there’s a good dog.”
In response, Scooter gave out a loud bark. From inside Gina’s store, Rachel heard the sound of something shattering. Her eyes wide, Rachel wondered what to do as Scooter erupted into a loud volley of barks. Lights began coming on in houses down the side streets as he kept barking. Rachel could hear footsteps inside the boutique. Whoever was in there, they were clearly in a hurry.
Above Rachel, there was a sudden explosion of glass and the sound of something catching fire. Instinctively, she used her body to shield Scooter as shards of glass rained down on them. In Gina’s boutique, fire began streaming out of the window upstairs.
The world’s gone mad. Rachel had time to think, as she grabbed Scooter and hauled him across the street to safety. Scooter whined and barked furiously, trying to get back to the boutique. Rachel tied his leash to a tree and tried to dial 911.
She didn’t need to. Already, the sound of sirens was piercing through the night air. She could hear confused shouts and slamming doors as people emerged from their houses. Her heart racing, Rachel remembered the footsteps she’d heard and wondered if someone was still in Gina’s boutique. There was no way to find out, and it was far too risky to enter. Racing behind the boutique, Rachel saw another broken window. This time, there were no shards of glass on the ground outside, which meant that the window had broken inward. This was the entry point.
Carefully, Rachel approached the boutique. She could now feel the heat e
manating from it, and heard the sound of roaring flames as they whipped across the hallway inside. She shone her flashlight on the window and the ground outside, hoping to find footprints or some other sort of clue. She gave an exclamation as she spotted a fragment of gray material hanging on one of the shards in the window.
Using her shawl to prevent fingerprints from getting on it, Rachel managed to pluck the fragment from the window and stepped back as flames once again blew out the windows upstairs.
Firefighters were on the scene now and cordoning off the area. She saw Scott arrive and ran to him, explaining what she’d found. He bagged it up and thanked her, but in the confusion, they were soon separated.
Now, Rachel watched with a gathering crowd as the firefighters wrestled with the blaze, turning their hoses on it. A fine mist formed in the air, and as the wind began to blow smoke their way, many in the crowd dispersed, coughing.
Rachel spotted Ethan and Tilly in the crowd, looking up at the burning boutique with their mouths a little open. Rachel waved at Tilly, and the two of them moved toward her.
“What is happening?” Tilly’s voice was frightened. “I woke up, and Ethan wasn’t there. I looked out the window and heard all these sirens...”
“I was out for a smoke,” Ethan said, a little defensive. “I was sitting in the backyard, when I started seeing smoke coming out of Gina’s boutique. I ran down here as fast as I could.”
“No jacket?” Rachel asked, looking at his thin T-shirt.
“I didn’t have time to grab one,” he said.
“But you were already in the backyard...” Rachel said.
Ethan glared at her. “What is this? An interrogation? Who are you, again?” His gaze rested on her black eye, and he nodded. “Right, the baker who fancies herself a detective.”
“Ethan. Be nice!” Tilly exclaimed.
“Sorry,” Ethan said grudgingly. “Anyway, here we are. Boutique’s going to be ruined, totally. What a waste.”
“I want to go,” Tilly said. She sounded weary. “I can’t stand all this heat and noise. Please, Ethan?”
“You go home.” Ethan couldn’t take his eyes off the firefighters as they heroically battled the flames. “I’m going to stick around here and see if I can help them out. Wow. Did you see their latest equipment?”
But Tilly, her face a little petulant, was already on her way home. Rachel left too, realizing that Scooter was getting distressed. But she thought she was far too excited to ever sleep. After all, whoever burned down Gina’s boutique had left something behind, and hopefully, it would be enough to catch them!
*****
Chapter 7
A Frame?
The town was abuzz the next day. A fire engine was still parked outside Gina’s boutique, as was a police sedan. Luckily, the fire had been contained, and the other stores hadn’t been harmed. Yellow tape cordoned off Gina’s boutique from the curious public. Rachel felt a twinge in her heart as she looked at the scorch marks and crumbling bricks. Just yesterday, Gina had been alive, and this boutique had been her pride and joy. Now, she was dead and the boutique permanently destroyed. Once again, Rachel reflected that the killer seemed to be consumed by anger. There was a destructive energy at play here that made Rachel sick to even think of. Who could hate so fiercely that they would wish to destroy not only the woman, but also any signs of her ever existing?
It wasn’t just Gina, either. In destroying the boutique, the killer had left his or her mark on Swaddle itself. A scar that would remain in the town psyche, reminding people every day that malice lived among them.
“It’s horrible,” Tricia said, as she and Rachel sipped coffee at the counter of Emily’s café. Emily too looked grim as she wiped a cloth along the counter.
“Tragic,” Emily said.
“More than tragic,” Tricia said. “Terrifying. It could have easily spread, Emily. What then? Would it have been one of our stores that went down like Gina’s?” She shivered a little and pushed away her coffee mug. “I can’t drink any more. I’ve lost my appetite, totally.”
“Who could have hated Gina so strongly?” Rachel wondered aloud.
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Emily’s eyes flashed and she slammed her hands upon the counter. “Mia Harris did this.”
“Come on.” Tricia raised herself up, her face red. “You can’t just go around—”
“Oh, I know. I can’t just go around accusing people. But look at the facts, Tricia. It’s as plain as the black eye on Rachel’s face. Mia hated Gina. She kept blaming Gina for her own store going bankrupt. She tried to hassle Gina by jumping into every committee Gina was a part of. Then, when even that didn’t phase Gina, I think Mia escalated things. She killed her. But that wasn’t enough. She attacked Rachel, and now she’s burned down the boutique. We have to do something about her. She’s getting worse every second!”
“Emily, you can’t talk like this. You have zero proof!” Tricia exploded. “I know Mia. I’ve known her a very long time. She helped me out from a dark place in my life. You have no idea what she’s been through. You have no idea what kind of a person she is.”
“Well why don’t you tell us, then? Since you’re the expert!”
“It’s not my story to tell,” Tricia said quietly. “Just trust me.”
“Sorry. I’ll trust my own senses first,” Emily said. “And you should be ashamed of yourself, Tricia. Rachel’s your friend too, and you’re betraying her by taking Mia’s side.”
Tricia looked forlorn, and Rachel jumped in. “I don’t feel betrayed.”
“Well, you should,” Emily snapped.
Rachel, conscious of the raised eyebrows and eager ears around the café, tried to calm down both her friends. “Look, let’s leave it up to the police to figure out if Mia’s guilty or not. But while they do their investigations, we go by innocent until proven guilty. Right?”
Emily rolled her eyes and turned away from the two of them, heading to the espresso machine. Tricia’s shoulders drooped.
There was a tinkling sound as the café's doors opened. Rachel turned around and saw Mrs. Bingham enter. She was wearing a loose chiffon top and a pair of gray slacks, her hair tidily perched on top of her head. She looked around uncertainly, as if afraid to step forward. Every eye in the café was turned toward her. Subject to this scrutiny, Mrs. Bingham lost courage and turned around, ready to leave. Rachel leaped off her seat and rushed to her, saying, “There you are, Mrs. Bingham. Come join me and Tricia for a coffee, won’t you?”
Mrs. Bingham looked stupidly grateful and smiled broadly at Rachel. “Thank you so much, dear. I could use a good strong cup of Joe right now.”
Emily smiled at her too and asked, “The usual? Cappuccino?”
“I need something a little sweeter today, I think.” Mrs. Bingham sighed, as she gingerly stepped up onto the bar stools. “Any suggestions?”
“I love the salted caramel frappe personally,” Rachel said. “Can’t go wrong with it.”
“Alright, then.” Mrs. Bingham smiled. “That’s what I’ll have, Emily.”
Emily nodded and headed back to begin making the frappe.
Turning to Tricia, Mrs. Bingham said, “I actually came here looking for you, Tricia. I wanted to apologize. I don’t know what came over me yesterday. I think I went mad. I’m so sorry I nearly drove over your foot!”
“Oh, I—” Tricia didn’t know what to say. She looked at Rachel instead.
“I’m sure it was a shock for you,” Rachel said. “Seeing Gina’s body that way...”
“I still can’t get over it. I haven’t been able to sleep all night. Then I heard about this awful fire...”
“Mrs. Bingham, what happened yesterday? What did you see before we came there?” Rachel asked. “You were clearly scared.”
“I was terrified at the time,” Mrs. Bingham said. “Look, I got an email from Gina at eleven in the morning, telling me to come meet her at half past noon. I was confused, but I decided to go anyway. I thought maybe it
had something to do with the cake-off. When I got there...” Mrs. Bingham shut her eyes and shook her head. “The front door was ajar. That was wrong somehow. It made me uneasy.”
Rachel nodded, knowing full well how horribly wrong that slightly ajar front door had felt in an otherwise peaceful neighborhood.
“I walked in, and the foyer was a mess, so was the living room. In the kitchen...” Mrs. Bingham began shaking a little. “I found her dead, and my cake on the floor next to her. I don’t know how long I stood there just staring at the scene.”
Rachel and Tricia looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Mrs. Bingham looked as though she were ready to start crying at any moment. Emily came back with a salted caramel frappe and pushed it toward Mrs. Bingham. She gave Rachel and Tricia a disapproving look, as though they were being rude to Mrs. Bingham.
Mrs. Bingham got out a handkerchief and wiped at her eyes. Gently, Emily put her hand on Mrs. Bingham’s and gave it a little squeeze. “It’s alright. The killing and the fire have frightened all of us. I’m sure it was very hard on you.”
“It was, but I still acted so badly. I just... ran out and sat in my car,” Mrs. Bingham continued, “I know it was terribly cowardly of me, but all sorts of thoughts were racing through my head. I thought… I was sure they’d come arrest me. I was sure the police would be there any second and cart me away. Part of me wanted to phone them, and part of me wanted to run far away. Then you arrived, and something inside me just snapped. I drove out of there like my tail was on fire. I’m so sorry. I really am. I know you must think I’m guilty, but I swear I’m not. I would never hurt Gina. I’d never hurt anybody!”
“Please don’t apologize. I believe you,” Emily said immediately. “We all do. Right Rachel? Right Tricia?”
Tricia immediately nodded her assent, but Rachel hesitated. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Mrs. Bingham. After all, she was over seventy. What were the chances she’d have killed Gina and then torched her boutique? But Rachel didn’t want to rule anyone out yet. Not until she found out more about the fingerprints the police had found on site.
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