by Bree Baker
I took a baby step back on instinct. How had she drawn that conclusion without knowing what the suicide note had said? Why hadn’t she assumed the same thing the others had? Was Rose the one who’d pushed him and spread the news about his suicide note? Was this her way of making sure everyone was talking about the Canary’s guilt and covering her own?
Aunt Clara slid her arm around mine and squeezed. “Oh, dear.”
“What if the Canary’s death wasn’t really a suicide?” I heard myself ask.
My aunts gasped. “What do you mean?” Aunt Clara asked.
“She means he could have been pushed,” Aunt Fran said, brows knitting into a frown. “Why would you say that?”
Rose’s crazy eyes twinkled. “Plot twist,” she whispered, clearly thrilled.
Aunt Fran stared at me. “Is that what you think? He was pushed?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “The timing is really weird. The fans could be right about him not knowing what to do with his life now, but Rose’s idea is pretty good too. I wonder what the note said.” I swept my attention back to Rose. Did she know what the note had said?
Her expression fell. “No one I spoke to this morning knew for sure. I don’t suppose you saw it?”
I pressed my lips together and shook my head.
Aunt Clara gripped my arm more tightly. “You’re saying it’s possible that whoever killed Mitzi killed this man too? As a cover-up for her murder?”
“It’s possible,” I said. “Or he could’ve been her killer and killed himself in an act of guilt and desperation.” But I didn’t think so.
Aunt Fran looked thoughtful. “I prefer the idea that the blogger was the killer.”
“Who wouldn’t?” I said. “It’s a tidy wrap-up. The guilty one is gone, and everyone can relax.”
The pair with the boom mic and light reflectors gave up their pretense of not eavesdropping and moved closer.
Quinn puckered his brow. “I don’t understand.”
Aunt Clara looked to Aunt Fran, as if she could somehow help gather her thoughts. “If Mitzi’s killer knew the Canary made a living stalking her,” Aunt Clara began, “then killing the Canary and planting a suicide note based on his guilt would be a devilish way of deflecting attention from the real killer and maybe putting the whole case to rest with that poor Canary going down as the bad guy.”
Aunt Fran shook her head scornfully. “Devious.”
“Or brilliant,” Mr. Pendle said, hoisting the boom mic over one shoulder. “It’s a matter of perspective,” he added when the group shot him ugly looks.
Rose hooked me with her gaze. “What do you think, Everly? Was the suicide a ruse? A misdirect? A cover-up?”
“Who knows?” I said nonchalantly.
But after this conversation, I was sure of it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I raised my eyebrows at Denise, who stood slack-jawed before me. I poured iced chai tea and held it in her direction. “Take your time,” I said. “It’s a lot of information.”
She accepted the glass with a nod. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It’s been a busy week.”
I’d made up my mind on the walk home from my aunts’ house. It was time to fill Denise in on what I’d been up to all week. She and I were friends now, and she worked with me. Both of those facts could potentially put her in harm’s way. Plus, she lived with Grady and Denver. She’d been hired by the senator. She should know Martin was in town, that he’d spent the day with Denver instead of taking him to school, and that I’d really put my foot in it by thinking he was a child abductor. So, I’d laid it all out for her, including my various theories on who might’ve killed Mitzi and why.
Denise sipped the tea, pausing on occasion to shake her head. “You’ve been leaving here all week to look into Mitzi’s murder? Even after receiving threats to stop?”
“None of the threats have specifically said I should stop. The threats were more implied,” I said. “The first just said Don’t Bee Stupid, and the next said I should Bee Smarter or I’d Bee Sorry.” I shrugged. “That one came with actual bees.”
Her mouth popped open in astonishment. “How can you be so calm about this?”
“I don’t mean to be,” I said. “I’ve been threatened a lot in the last year. Either I’m learning to take it in stride or it’s some sort of psychological defense mechanism.” I considered the options a moment. “I’m leaning toward the latter.”
“No doubt,” she agreed. Denise scanned the café slowly, presumably checking tea levels and patrons’ expressions for signs of need. “You had a chance to talk with Rose today?” she asked, when her gaze fell back on me.
“Yeah. She was really interested in gossip about the Canary’s death,” I said. “In fact, she’d looked a little crazed as she filled me in on everything she’d heard. I couldn’t tell if it was the shock factor alone,” I added carefully. Or something else.
“You think she could be behind this?” Denise asked.
“It’s possible,” I said noncommittally.
Did Denise have mind-bending capabilities to go along with her supreme fighting skills, or was I really that easy to read? Maybe neither, I realized. Maybe she knew more than I did but wasn’t letting on. She lived with Grady, after all, and he’d said he was close to wrapping this up. Maybe Denise had seen or heard something that had helped nudge her in the direction I was going.
I turned the question back on her. “Do you think Rose is behind this?”
Denise wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know anything about her except what you’ve told me. But as a budding producer, she probably has a lot to gain from all the added publicity this week.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said. “And Rose spent the first few days after Mitzi’s death interviewing fans instead of working on the documentary. I wasn’t sure what to make of it at the time, but now I can’t help wondering if she’s making two documentaries: the one she came to make and one about Mitzi Calgon’s murder.”
“So, Rose stands to get a huge career boost, but Odette and her dad just inherited coffers of Mitzi’s cash and possibly rights to royalties on her stake in the Blackbeard’s Wife empire.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” I said. “Grady doesn’t seem to think Odette or Mr. Pierce had anything to do with it, though.” Unless he was trying to mislead me to keep me away from his main suspects.
Denise took another long pull on her tea, and the iced cubes clanked against the nearly empty jar. “Have you talked to Odette?”
“No, but Ryan’s been following her and her dad all week,” I said. “I’m hoping to touch base with him at Mitzi’s memorial and hear what he’s learned.”
“Smart,” she said. “That’s a great place to rendezvous and trade information on this. I wonder if all your suspects will be there?” She smiled. “This is kind of fun. Making hypotheses and testing them. I haven’t used this kind of deductive reasoning since college.”
“Well, I have to warn you. Grady calls those hypotheses theories,” I said, “and he doesn’t approve.”
Her smile widened. “You keep him on his toes. It’s good for him.” She set her empty jar aside and leaned her narrow frame against the counter, one palm braced beside each hip. “Speaking of that. I can’t believe the senator’s husband is here. And that no one told me.”
“Believe it,” I said.
Denise exhaled, her kind blue eyes looking more tired than I’d ever noticed. “Look, it’s not my place to say this, but you’ve been super honest with me today, and I know you care about Grady.”
I waited, unsure how to respond.
“The senator’s constant judgment makes him crazy. It was part of why he moved here, someplace no one ever dreamed she’d follow. Since she’s been back, he’s been uptight and ill at ease. I hate seeing him that way, and Denver notices too.
”
My stomach pitted. I hated thinking of Grady being bullied by his former mother-in-law without her daughter there to shield him. “He probably wants to make her as happy as he can to honor Amy.”
Denise nodded. “Yeah, but the senator’s got different priorities than Grady, and it creates massive conflict. She was actually nicer to him when he buried himself in his work after losing Amy. Never mind that he didn’t eat, sleep, deal with his grief, or parent his son while he went down that dark rabbit hole. Senator Denver was still happier then. At least she could understand the path Grady was on. That was when she hired me to hold things together. All was well and good until Grady came home one night in a fevered rage with himself. Something had happened at work, someone had hurt their child, killed them, I’m not sure, but it tipped Grady over the edge. He told me he was done. He tendered his resignation, found his current house online, and put in a bid. The senator never quite got over his decision to abandon his career, regardless of the reason.”
“That’s sad,” I said. “For all of them.”
“Yeah, but we are who we are, I guess.”
“Agreed,” I said, forcing a tight smile.
A bubble of laughter broke from her lips and startled me. “You hit the senator’s husband with a rock,” she said.
I pursed my lips.
“He must’ve been so mad.” Denise laughed again. “I really wish I could have seen that.”
“You really don’t,” I said, fighting a wave of humiliation. “I argued with him about it in the SUV, which might’ve been even worse. Grandma taught me better than to argue with my elders, but I’d lost my temper.” Too many things were happening at once, and none of them made sense. “I made an honest mistake, and throwing rocks was the only defense I had.” A fresh and delightful idea entered my mind, and I pinned her with a hopeful gaze. “Unlike you.”
“Me?” Her cheeks darkened with understanding. “I didn’t mean to attack Ryan. It was instinct and I feel horrible.”
“Ryan’s fine.” I waved a hand dismissively. “He’s a good guy, and I’m guessing he appreciates the fact you can protect yourself.”
She didn’t look so sure.
“I’d love to learn how you did that to him,” I said. “It was kind of amazing, and I don’t know the first thing about getting away from an assailant after stepping on his foot and screaming for help.”
Denise’s pretty face twisted in horror. “Stepping on his foot?”
“Yeah. I’m basically defenseless. Maybe you could help me.”
“Help you?” She frowned. “How?”
“Teach me to protect myself,” I suggested. “Like the moves you learned in your mandatory self-defense class freshman year.”
Denise’s blush deepened. “I should probably tell you more about that.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked as I made my way to the register, where a local couple waited to cash out. “I could pay you for the lessons.”
When I returned to Denise, she’d eaten half the lipstick off her bottom lip. “Can you keep a secret?”
I smiled. “Absolutely.”
“When I was in high school, I had a date with an extremely popular boy, and the whole thing went very wrong.”
She proceeded to tell me how the boy had forced himself on her and no one had believed her afterward because he was popular, and she was not. They found it hard to believe he’d have any interest in her. It was the last time Denise gave her trust easily, and she found a local boxing gym to work out her issues until graduation. She would never again be a victim. “I was teaching the freshman self-defense class my senior year at Georgetown when I met the senator,” she said. “I’d applied to the FBI during an on-campus recruitment event. I guess she got my name from there somehow. She said she was looking for someone who fit my profile for a special, personal assignment.”
“And that was how you wound up as an au pair for Denver,” I surmised.
“It’s been a wild ride,” she said with a humorless laugh. “My life hasn’t turned out at all like I thought it would. I’ve done the best I could picking up the pieces, and I’m okay with the trajectory I’m on now. My job with the Hays family, for example, has made me infinitely happy, emotionally satisfied, and financially fit. The senator is a very fair employer.” She flashed a mischievous grin. “Plus, I’m making a difference in the lives of two men I’ve grown to love, and Grady is making a difference to countless others. One day Denver will too.”
The pride in her voice swelled my chest. I loved that she truly cared for Grady and Denver. Still, something she’d said rattled around in my head. “You must be really bored working here during Denver’s school hours,” I said. “If the senator pays well, there must be a ton of things you’d rather do.”
“Sometimes,” she said, “but you need help here, and I like you.”
The words, too easy came to mind. “And?” I prodded.
“It’s been a great way for me to meet other islanders and make connections to the community outside local kindergarten moms.”
That statement had sounded more canned than the last. I fixed her with a narrow stare. “Did the senator put you up to this? Are you here to spy on me?”
Shock widened her expression. “No! Of course not. I’m not a spy!”
I crossed my arms. “You’re not telling me something, so out with it. If we’re going to be friends, real friends, there has to be trust.”
She watched me for a long beat—evaluating, it seemed. “Promise you won’t get mad.”
“I’ve gotten mad every time someone has started a confession to me with that sentence, so no,” I said. “Now, spill.”
Denise scanned the café again, more quickly this time. “I’m here because Grady was worried about you.” She flipped her palms up to keep me from interrupting her.
I snapped my mouth shut and waited. My fingers itched to dial Grady and give him a piece of my mind, but I decided to hear Denise’s entire story so I could tell him off properly. “Why was he worried?”
“Once he learned about the senator’s threats, he reasoned that his connection to you could put you in harm’s way. You could become leverage to be used against him. Also, you have a habit of being abducted and threatened with death.” She added the last part as casually as if she’d said I also had a habit of brushing my teeth. “He knows I can protect you, if needed. Sometimes Grady and I spar together, and my marksmanship is well above average.”
I blanched. “Marksmanship. Did you think you’d have to shoot someone? Are you carrying a gun right now?”
“Not on my person,” she said.
My gaze slid below the counter to her periwinkle Kate Spade satchel. “Are you kidding me?”
“Don’t be mad,” she said. “The kinds of people who threaten a senator are the real deal, and Grady’s logic was right. There are two people on this planet that he’d surrender to set free in an abduction situation and you’re one of them. I’m with Denver when he isn’t at school, so it made sense for me to come here while he was there.”
I opened my mouth to complain and an ugly throaty sound spilled out. Questions and rebuttals piled on my tongue until individual words were impossible, so I paced silently behind the counter.
“You’re angry,” she said. “Everyone wants transparency until they get it.”
I turned back and shook a finger at her, then paced another few laps. “You’re going to teach me to defend myself,” I said finally. “I’m not mad you’re here for reasons that weren’t disclosed earlier because they’re nice and thoughtful reasons that could have saved my life. But I’m not happy that I’ve been in potential danger for the last five months and you never mentioned it.”
She winced. Good. At least she knew that was a junky thing to do to me.
The proverbial light bulb flickered. “That’s why I keep running into you. That’s wh
y you swing by my house on your runs and pretend to look for your missing sunglasses. You’re my protective detail. Not just when Denver’s at school!” I clamped a hand over my mouth when guests began to take notice of my whisper-rant.
“I knew you’d be mad.”
I gave a long, dark chuckle. “Yes. I am mad. I feel strangely violated by the stalking and weirdly betrayed by the fact you and Grady executed a plan about me behind my back.” That wasn’t exactly right. “In front of my face.” My blood pressure shot up again. “I also feel completely dense for not figuring it out sooner. My aunts think I have some sixth sense about people, but you two had me duped.”
“I’ll teach you,” she said, stepping into my path and opening her stance. “You should be able to defend yourself. Everyone should. I’ll help.”
A measure of frustration slipped away. “Really? When?”
“Before work, a couple days a week. We can use the old ballroom here.”
A traitorous smile spread over my face. “I’m still mad.”
She nodded. “You can take it out on me during practice.”
I threw my arms around her. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
She stiffened slightly before hugging me back. “You forgive me?”
“I’m not great at grudges,” I said. “Most people have good intentions, even if they go about things wrong.” I’d be having a serious conversation with Grady about all of this at my first opportunity, however, and I wasn’t sure how easily I’d let him off the hook. Denise and I were just getting to know one another. She had a better excuse for not opening up to me thoroughly. Plus, she was in Grady’s employ. He and I were friends who talked about things, or at least we were supposed to. I didn’t like that he’d intentionally kept this from me.
“Have you asked Grady?” Denise asked, derailing my thoughts.
“About what?” She’d just revealed their secret to me, and I hadn’t used a phone. How could I have asked him anything?
