Her Hometown Detective

by Elizabeth Mowers

  “I think I was the first person on the scene—”

  “The scene? Do you work for law enforcement now?”

  “Hey,” Faith said, turning to face him squarely. “What if someone had been inside hurt and bleeding and in need of medical attention? Fortunately, there was no one, but this would be an entirely different conversation if someone in there had needed help. That was what was on my mind, Detective. I couldn’t just stand around with my hands on my hips waiting for you to roll up.” She shrugged unapologetically, as if she bought her own explanation and considered the matter settled. “By the looks of it,” she continued, “Rick is in the same place he was when I left a few minutes ago. Someone had to make sure the place was clear. That’s what I was doing. You’re welcome.”

  Tully couldn’t help but stare. Few people knocked him off guard, but Faith Fitzpatrick had managed to make his jaw drop askew.

  “And where does a tipped-over motorcycle come into it?” Rick hopped out of his car and waved them over as Charlie and Officer Dex Randall arrived in separate cars. Dex made his way to the back door, carefully avoiding the glass shards. “Never mind. I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Tully,” Rick said, nodding. Tully motioned toward Faith. Rick threw her a suspicious look before turning back to him. “We already met. She said she knows you.” Tully couldn’t tell the level of familiarity Rick meant with the statement.

  “Wait here,” he said to them both, while leading Charlie and Officer Randall through the back door. The store was packed with antiques, collections of items covering nearly every nook and cranny. Many items had been upended, but nothing looked damaged. He stopped in front of an old motorcycle, the sidecar tipped in the air, as a voice behind him made him turn.

  “I think it’s an R75 with the original sidecar. There aren’t too many of these beauties kicking around anymore.” Faith stood at his flank with Rick shaking his head from the doorway.

  “I told you to wait outside.”

  Faith scowled at him. “Why? I’ve already been in here. I can’t ruin anything.”

  “You’ve already been in here?” Dex hung a thumb in his gun belt, studying Faith.

  “I was the first one here, I think.”

  “I thought Rick got here first.”

  “I called it in,” Rick said, now sauntering into the shop to join them. “I found Faith coming out through the back door—”

  “Oh, really?” Dex said. Tully had seen the look on Dex’s face before. He was like a pit bull who’d picked up the scent of blood.

  “I thought someone might be hurt,” she said.

  “Well, aren’t you a regular Florence Nightingale.” Dex’s tone was pointed. Typical.

  Faith squared off in front of him, her chest swelling.

  “No one was hurt, Officer,” she said. Her eyes darkened. “But I’m glad you managed to avoid the glass on the walkway instead of charging in here to look for victims.”

  “That’s enough,” Tully said, calmly moving between Faith and Dex before any other words could be exchanged. He gestured to Dex to take it easy, then he turned to Rick and Faith.

  “I’ll interview you one at a time. Rick, you’re first.” He moved toward the side of the shop as Faith made her way around the vintage BMW. “And you,” he said, pointing a pen in her direction, “will wait outside until further notice.”

  Faith balked at his assertion until she noticed Charlie and Dex. They stood ready to escort her to the door.

  “Is it necessary for me to even stick around? I have to get my bike back to the shop.”

  “I can take her statement,” Charlie offered, glancing at Tully. “And then give her a ride home.”

  “That would be great,” Faith said, beelining out the back door. Charlie shrugged at Tully before following Faith.

  “How do you know her?” Rick asked.

  “Yeah,” said Dex, a scowl on his face. “I’m certainly curious.”

  Tully shook his head. Faith Fitzpatrick didn’t know what was good for her, but because he was a detective on duty, investigating a crime where she was now a prime suspect, he couldn’t let his growing interest in her cloud his judgment. He had a case to solve.

  “She’s new,” Tully said, pulling his notepad out of his breast pocket. “Rick, tell me what you saw.”

  Rick nodded. “First, I saw Faith’s motorcycle on the ground, then the broken glass, then Faith coming out the back door looking suspicious.”

  “Define suspicious.”

  “Running, looking around. She shouldn’t have gone in there in the first place. I called Dash—”

  “Do you know Dash Callahan?” As far as Tully understood it, no one in Roseley did.

  “I met him when he and Ledger first bought the property. He came into The Copper Kettle and he and I got to talking. I told him I’d keep an eye on the store from time to time, until he moved here.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I just drive by occasionally. Tonight, I’m glad I did.”

  “Is Dash on his way?”

  “He’s not driving in from Traverse City until the morning.”

  Tully strode to the front of the store and examined the door locks. He circled around and kept his tone light.

  “How’s Gemma doing these days?”

  “We’re both exhausted. You try managing a restaurant and raising three boys.”

  “I’d imagine it would be tough, especially if Ricky Jr. is anything like you.”

  Rick met Tully’s joke with a laugh.

  “He’s worse! He’s already broken his arm swinging off the dock.”

  Dex chuckled. “That’ll be expensive.”

  “It is, and the cast doesn’t even slow him down.”

  Tully squatted by the back door and ran a finger over a sensor by the door frame. If the Callahans had a security system, it was a silent one. But had it been triggered by someone before Faith entered?

  “Rick, what time did you get here?”

  Rick shrugged and checked his phone.

  “I called Dash at 8:10 p.m., so a minute or two before that.”

  This was the first vandalism where he might piece together a decent timeline. He needed to talk to the Callahan brothers about their security system. Then he needed to talk to Faith.

  CHAPTER SIX

  FAITH STRETCHED AS morning light pooled in through the bedroom sheers. The warm smell of coffee perked her senses. She rolled over to find Caroline standing in the doorway.

  “Well, if it isn’t Roseley’s favorite misfit.”

  “Says who?”

  “Gemma Murdock and half the folks at The Copper Kettle.”

  Faith sat up in bed and motioned for the coffee. Caroline handed her an old coffee mug before crawling under the covers beside her.

  Faith inhaled the rich aroma and wrapped her fingers around the familiar mug. Uncle Gus had had it in his kitchen cupboard for as long as she could remember. He preferred to use the same stained mug for the last thirty years, maybe longer. The feel of the mug, with the tiny chip on the handle, triggered happy memories of watching Uncle Gus on the back porch in the early morning, reading the newspaper and slowly whittling away at a single piece of buttered toast. He’d had time for his family and sometimes that included her.

  “Is she any relation to Rick Murdock?”

  “Wife of fourteen years, yes. They’re married with three boys.”

  “What did she say?”

  Caroline pulled the covers over her and faced her cousin. She thumped Faith on the head in a playful reprimand. “She said you were caught at the scene of the crime last night. True?”

  Faith scowled. “I didn’t know it was the scene of a crime when I walked in.”

  “But you did walk in and place yourself there right before the police
arrived? That or you’ve taken up robbery since the last time I saw you. I certainly hope not, because the Callahan Brothers are not guys you want to mess with. They have a lot of clout.”

  “They had the most beautiful classic motorcycle, something I would love to get my hands on one of these days. I wonder how much they’re asking for it.”

  “Would you be serious? Half of The Copper Kettle was talking about you. Believe me when I say it wasn’t good.”

  “Did anyone refer to me by Talbert?”

  “Not yet, but it’s coming, cousin. Especially if you keep...”

  “Keep what?” Faith sat up straighter in bed. “It’s not my fault someone broke into The Gypsy Caravan. In fact, the break-in was the reason I had to stop in the first place. It threw my entire evening off. I had to leave my bike and then I ran into Detective McTully...” She thought of Detective McTully and how he had called out to her from his truck. If she hadn’t known better, she might have entertained the thought he was flirting. Well, maybe he wasn’t actively flirting, but his tone made for an interaction she wouldn’t mind experiencing again. She wondered if he knew the effect he had on a woman, or more specifically, on her. His cool energy rolled off him like fog descending a mountain and it made her tingle with an anticipation to see him again. Though, under better circumstances when he wasn’t interviewing her for a crime.

  “Oh, no,” Caroline muttered.

  “What?”

  “I remember that look.”

  Faith harrumphed. “I’m not making any look. I’m recalling the events of last night and trying to remember any details that could help Detective McTully solve his case.”

  “I wondered how long it would take before you worked his name into the conversation again.”

  “He’s the detective on the case, isn’t he?”

  “He’s the one person who made you pool on the ground like a melted Popsicle in high school. That’s who he is.”

  “He didn’t know I existed in high school.”

  “True.” Caroline reclaimed the coffee mug and took a sip. “But he knows all about you now.”

  Faith’s brow knit in a perfect bow. “Why do you say that? Was he at The Copper Kettle too?”

  “No. But I overheard Gemma asking Charlie Stillwater about you. Rick seemed to think Tully was too lenient with you last night. He thought it was suspicious you were in The Gypsy Caravan when he arrived and even more alarming that Tully didn’t find it suspicious enough.”

  “That’s because I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I know that, and you know that, but the people in this town don’t. To them you’re still new and mysterious.”

  “And guilty until proven innocent.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Exactly.” Faith scowled.

  “I want you to be careful with your grand opening. You need to get off on the right foot. It’s the only way you’ll stick around town, and you know how much I love having you back. Trig does too.”

  Faith appreciated the sentiment, but it was the mention of her grand opening that had her rolling out of bed.

  “That reminds me,” she said. “I have so much to do today.” She threw the covers over Caroline’s head, making her cousin laugh. “What time is it? It feels so late.”

  “It’s going on eight o’clock.”

  “Good heavens, Caroline. What time did you go to breakfast this morning?”

  “You know I’m an early riser. Plus, all the good gossip happens before the tourists turn up.”

  “I’m glad you have your ear to the ground for me. I’ll mind my Ps and Qs for the time being. Fair?”

  Caroline nodded and made her way into the hallway. “I’ll give you a hand this morning. It’s going to be a scorcher today, so dress coolly.”

  * * *

  TULLY CRUISED ALONG the lakeshore, diligently scanning his surroundings. He’d made a trip out to Heath Harrison’s place and had a quick chat with both him and his son, Oliver. They’d been working on their pontoon boat when he’d pulled up and within seconds of reading Oliver’s face, he knew the kid had no idea why Tully had stopped by. That was certainly a good thing.

  When he’d made his way down Heath’s dock that morning, the fifteen-year-old had greeted him like a long-lost uncle. Sometimes that happened when he helped redirect a kid to a better path, and after Oliver had gotten wrapped up with Cody Ward, stealing a speedboat and going for a joyride, Tully had made it a point to occasionally visit Oliver. He made a point to offer a word of encouragement when the moment deserved it, and Oliver seemed to bask in it. Though he visited Cody too, the teen was a harder sell.

  “Looks like you’ve put this young man to work, Heath,” Tully said. Heath, a man in his midthirties, wiped his brow and nodded proudly.

  “If he wants to own a boat of his own someday, he needs to know how to fix an engine.”

  “Are you learning anything, son?”

  Oliver nodded sheepishly as Heath stepped closer.

  “What brings you by, Tully?”

  Tully smiled at Oliver. “I wanted to check in on Oliver and see how his summer is treating him.”

  “A lot better than summers past, huh, kiddo?”

  Oliver nodded again and wandered over. The fact that he came closer when he had a good enough excuse to avoid conversation or eye contact said a lot. Tully kept his tone friendly.

  “Have you spent any time with Cody this summer?”

  Oliver rolled his eyes. “Not really. He’s been out in the woods a lot.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I don’t know. I think he’s trying to build a fort or something. He told me he bought a monster bag of paintballs before school ended. Maybe he’s shooting them off.”

  Heath turned to his son. “Oliver, go grab Detective McTully a drink out of the garage so he can take it for the road. It’s going to be in the midnineties today.” He waited until Oliver was halfway down the dock. “Is this about the break-in at The Gypsy Caravan last night?”

  “Word travels fast.”

  “Oliver was home with me last night. Even if he hadn’t been, he’s not getting messed up in any trouble again.”

  “I don’t suspect Oliver, Heath. He’s a good kid with a good head on his shoulders. I wanted your impression of Cody these days and the kids he hangs around with now.”

  “As far as I know, he’s back at Karen and Moody’s place for the summer. I haven’t seen enough of him to help you.”

  “Have you seen Cheyanne?”

  Cheyanne was Cody’s biological mother. A dedicated single mom working two jobs as she went back to school, she relied heavily on her parents to help raise Cody.

  “Word has it she’s interviewing in Traverse City for a new job.”

  Tully had smiled as Oliver approached with a can of lemonade. He was glad to see the kid doing so well, but he hadn’t gotten a lot of information. By the time he’d returned to his truck, he’d had a call from Dash and Ledger Callahan. The brothers had finished their inventory early that morning and had reported that nothing had been stolen.

  It seemed strange to Tully that someone would have gone through the trouble to break into the antiques shop but not steal anything. Not only that, the brothers had tipped over the motorcycle themselves for repairs. Someone had shattered a window, tossed several antiques on the ground but hadn’t stolen or damaged anything? It didn’t make sense.

  Unless, Tully thought as he drove back to town, it was a person who had intended to steal something but had been interrupted.

  Tully pointed his truck in the direction of Faith Fitzpatrick’s repair shop. He wanted a straight answer from Faith Fitzpatrick about the circumstances that had led her inside The Gypsy Caravan.

  * * *

  AS FAITH LOCKED the front door of her shop, she spotted Detective McTully. He stood nearby exuding a
n easy cool.

  “Are you stalking me?” she said, surprised.

  “Ms. Fitzpatrick, I need a minute of your time.”

  Tully stepped under the shade of her storefront awning and removed his sunglasses. His eyes were a warm chocolaty brown that could melt her in two seconds flat if she let her mind wander too much. He managed the softest, faintest smile, making a few fine lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle. There had always been something about him that could disarm even the most confrontational or guarded person, and Faith knew she was no exception.

  “Is this about last night? I haven’t eaten yet today so I’m grabbing an early lunch. Maybe when I get back—”

  “I’ll walk with you,” he said. “Are you heading to The Sandwich Board?”

  She hadn’t intended to ever step one foot inside CeCe Takes’s sandwich shop, but when Detective McTully began walking in that direction, she reluctantly followed.

  “Do you have any leads from last night?” she asked.

  “I need to better understand why you were riding through the back lot last night.”

  “I take that as a no.” Faith glanced at the reflection of the two of them in the glass windows of each shop they passed. Caroline had warned her that the people in this town would begin to suspect her, especially if the vandalism continued without a culprit being caught. She only wished Detective McTully didn’t suspect her.

  “Ms. Fitzpatrick?” he prompted. “The back lot?”

  “Do you ride, Detective McTully?”

  “Ride?”

  “A motorcycle?” If he did, it would make his understanding of last night a lot easier. But he raised his brow impatiently, making her expedite her explanation. “I take back roads and shortcuts whenever I can. I enjoy the freedom of riding, and if I can do that without worrying too much about other motorists on the road, the better.”

  “Does the ride through the back lot have a pretty view?” His tone was pleasant, but it made Faith frown all the same.