Her Hometown Detective

by Elizabeth Mowers

  “I know what you’re getting at. I wasn’t back there for the scenery. Dumpsters and wooden pallets aren’t my thing, but it’s a nice shortcut to avoid the traffic on Main. You must not ride, or you’d get that.”

  “I like my truck.”

  “You’re missing out.”

  When they arrived at The Sandwich Board, Faith’s mouth twisted in disappointment when she found it so crowded.

  “I should have made a run to The Copper Kettle instead.”

  “Hi, Tully,” a voice called over the murmur of conversation. Mara and a girl, no older than twelve, greeted them. She had pink, round cheeks and looked nothing like Mara. “Faith,” Mara said, smiling when she noticed her. “It’s good to see you again. This is my daughter, Lucy.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Lucy said, drawing a proud smile from Tully.

  “I’m Faith Fitzpatrick. I’m new in town.”

  “I know. I saw you painting your store window. Mom said you’re going to advertise at our sports shop.”

  “Are you two eating here?” Mara said, glancing hopefully between Faith and Detective McTully. Faith shook her head without hesitation. This wasn’t a social call, by any means. He was questioning her, albeit casually, because she was the suspect of a crime. As much as she wouldn’t mind basking in his masculine energy for an entire lunch, she needed to get back to work. She had a lot to do before tomorrow.

  Dolores Mitchell joined them.

  “Thank you for offering to fix my mailbox, Faith,” Dolores said. “But I ended up buying a new one.”

  Faith smiled. “You’re an optimist.”

  “I choose to be, but if someone busts this one too, I might take you up on your offer to fix it.”

  “What are you saying, Faith?” It was CeCe. “Does she have a reason not to be an optimist?”

  Faith, along with the others, turned to find CeCe scowling from behind the counter.

  “I only meant that she has a good attitude.”

  Dolores shook her sandwich bag at her friend. “CeCe, stop being such a...a—”

  “A what?” CeCe said before turning to the register. Dolores rolled her eyes at the back of her friend’s head. She motioned for Faith to step up to the counter where a short, retirement-aged man with smiling eyes winked at her.

  “I’m Angelo, and I run this shop. What can I get you?”

  “I’ll take the number seven with no tomatoes, please.”

  “Number seven coming right up.”

  Faith remembered Angelo but he, along with everyone else in town, didn’t remember her. She had always wondered how someone as friendly and jovial as Angelo could end up with...a CeCe. She knew opposites could attract but life was still strange sometimes.

  Faith fished in her jeans pocket for a wad of cash and peeled off enough to cover her meal as CeCe busied herself at the register.

  “You have a nice shop here, CeCe,” Faith managed, trying hard to be polite. Angelo winked at her but CeCe’s smile turned brittle. The draft from CeCe’s cold shoulder was enough to make anyone downshift into silent mode, but she refused to lower herself to CeCe’s level.

  Filling the silence, Angelo motioned to her sandwich. “Instead of tomatoes, how about a little diced cucumber or some avocado?”

  “Avocado is extra,” CeCe said. Faith let out a long, steady breath, biting back a snide quip. Perhaps if she ignored CeCe? What harm could come in not speaking to her? They could each mind their own business, without ever needing to socialize or interact. Some folks were just difficult people, Faith thought to herself. Kyle had certainly been a difficult person to be married to and heaven knew her father’s personality was like a bulldozer aimed solely for greed. Her shop neighbor might be loud and pushy, but as long as she kept to herself—

  “Oh, my goodness!” CeCe squawked, clutching her chest. Faith glanced behind her to find Detective McTully, Mara, Dolores and a host of other Roseley folks tuned in too. CeCe was not one to be ignored or talked over.

  Faith slid her cash across the counter. “I don’t care if you ring me up for the avocado. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Not that.” She brought a hand to her cheek, overly dramatic. “It’s been bothering me ever since you turned up in this town, Ms. Fitzpatrick.”

  Faith tipped her head, confused. “Pardon?”

  “What are you talking about, CeCe?” Angelo said.

  CeCe motioned for Detective McTully as Faith noticed how the people nearby quieted. “Detective, I’ll bet you didn’t realize we have a local celebrity in our presence.”

  Faith’s heart slammed against the inside of her rib cage as her hand found the counter to stabilize herself. She watched the words roll off CeCe’s bitter tongue in slow motion, knowing she was powerless to stop her. She wanted to spring over the counter and smack a hand over CeCe’s mouth. Force her to swallow her own words rather than speak them to everyone in the shop. It would spell her demise. All she could do was stand motionless like a wax figure as museum patrons crowded and gawked.

  “CeCe, what are you going on about now?” Dolores asked. Faith couldn’t manage a word in her own defense. She knew exactly what CeCe was about to lob at her next, and short of scooping up her sandwich and running out the front door, there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  Faith beelined for the door. “You can keep the change.” She wanted to walk out of the shop with her head held high, but most important, she wanted to walk out of the shop.

  “Faith, are you okay?” Mara called, brushing her fingers along Faith’s arm but not moving quickly enough to stop her. She’d held the slightest hope that Mara might become an ally. She’d even imagined them as friends, friendly acquaintances at the very least.

  “Let her go, Mara,” CeCe called. “Don’t you know who that is?”

  Faith made it past the crowd but hesitated before pushing out into the humid air. She turned to find Detective McTully staring at her as CeCe continued. The faces of everyone else in the crowd blurred except his. His handsome features with those kind, dark eyes stopped her. He still didn’t recognize her, nor did he know her. She wanted to savor the last few moments before he did. She held his gaze, wanting to seal him into her memory as he stood—concerned, untainted by the knowledge of her past.

  “That’s not Faith Fitzpatrick. That’s Faith Talbert, Ray Talbert’s daughter.” Any murmuring that had continued despite CeCe’s squawking now ceased completely. “I never forget a face even if it takes me longer to place one these days.”

  Recognition seemed to fall over Detective McTully, but it was most likely due to her father’s name, his infamy seared forever in this town’s memory. He didn’t remember her. The interaction they’d had in high school, when he’d been a graduating senior and she’d been a sophomore, wasn’t memorable for him the way it had been for her.

  Faith could still remember the day her little crush on John McTully had solidified into something more. It was funny how a tiny mistake, like forgetting a gym uniform, could end up changing how you see a classmate.

  Not wanting to play volleyball in the dress she’d worn to school that day, Faith, a shy sophomore in high school, had skipped her physical education class and had hidden in an unoccupied art room. She’d quietly tucked herself into a nook in the dark room where a passing teacher wouldn’t see her. After several minutes of silent sketching, a tangle of boys pushed into the room. It had been an unfair scuffle, roughhousing that escalated quickly as three upperclassmen targeted a single freshman. As Faith angled to get a better look from her hiding place, the freshman showed signs of deep distress. Clothes and hair disheveled, whimpering madly, his bloodied lip was a sign the tormenting could get a whole lot worse.

  Chattering with fright herself, Faith considered her options. Even though she was no match for the three older boys, she knew she had to do something—and fast. If she popped up from the shadow
s, and raced for the door, the element of surprise might get her to the safety of the hallway before they could stop her. If she found a teacher, he or she would have to break up the fight.

  The freshman shrieked again, propelling Faith to her feet and toward the door. Before she could reach it, it swung open. John McTully’s athletic build filled the doorway for only a moment before he sprang onto the group, hauling the first of the three teenagers into a shelf of art supplies with a clamor. There had been a struggle, one of the boys cracking a fist to John’s jaw before Faith flipped on the lights and screamed into the hallway for help. A few seconds of panic seemed to come over the bullies before they scrambled out the door, without even a glance over their shoulder at her. The freshman, though trying hard not to, cried as John helped him to his feet.

  “I thought they were looking at you strange,” John had told him, leading him out of the room. “Let’s get you to the office.”

  He’d stopped then, noticing her standing there, staring.

  “Were you in there too?” he’d asked, just realizing. “Are you okay?”

  She’d momentarily gotten lost in his eyes, a fierce gaze that had shifted into true concern for her.

  “They didn’t know I was in there.”

  The freshman broke away from John, shuffling quickly to the office unaccompanied.

  “I have to go with him, but don’t worry about those guys,” he’d told her. “They’ll be mad at me, if they even noticed you at all.”

  It was not the first time in her life she’d felt unseen, but it was the first time she’d been grateful for it. The boys had been quickly suspended, and she’d believed John’s assurance. She hadn’t worried.

  She’d wanted to smile at John in the halls after that, but nerves always seemed to get the best of her.A few weeks later, he’d graduated and soon left for college. She figured he’d forgotten all about her, though she’d never forgotten about him. The memory of him continued to resonate, the details of the encounter, even years later, still as ingrained in her mind as lines carved in oak.

  Through the rest of high school, through her father’s arrest, through the ridicule and loneliness that had followed, she’d daydreamed about John McTully. She’d never forgotten his courage or his kindness, and it would be a long time before she witnessed such traits in anyone else in her life. Not her father, who had loved only money and the unwavering pursuit of it. Not her mother, who had emotionally detached long before the scandal and then physically detached as Faith floundered into adulthood. Certainly not Kyle, whose kind gestures had felt transactional and self-serving most of the time. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Gus and her cousins, she might have never believed good relationships of any kind were possible for her.

  For her own protection, she had learned to put up a wall. Bonnie, a longtime friend at the last repair shop she’d worked at, had called it her edge. Bonnie said Faith always seemed to be white-knuckling her way through interactions with others, and Bonnie had been right. She was always waiting to be stung, and that constant frame of mind made her defensive. She didn’t like it, but it worked for her.

  It embarrassed her that her first encounter with John McTully since high school had been so contentious when he had been one of the only people in this town whom she still thought of fondly. Life experience had taught her to nip quickly and first, because the people she usually encountered tried for the same.

  And that, Faith thought, was exactly what had happened to her at the hands of CeCe Takes. She’d fooled herself into believing she could be polite at no cost to herself. She’d been wrong.

  As the whispers began in the sandwich shop, John McTully didn’t waver. He’d kept a poker face amid CeCe’s declaration, but at the mention of her maiden name his eyes had flinched. Whether it was pity or suspicion she found there, she couldn’t tell, so she bolted rather than wait to find out.

  Somehow the number of paces from The Sandwich Board to Heart Motorcycles had tripled since she’d last trekked it. If she thought she wasn’t being watched, she would have taken her steps two at a time. When she reached her shop, she fumbled with the lock yet again, knowing full well that John McTully was behind her.

  “Ms. Fitzpatrick,” he called.

  “What?” She pivoted and crossed her arms tightly over her chest as if he’d asked for the world. “I can’t help you right now.”

  “I still need to talk to you.”

  She glanced at the heavens.

  “Fine. I’m listening.”

  Tully glanced back at the people coming out of The Sandwich Board. They milled around on the sidewalk, staring at her like she was a newly discovered bacteria in a petri dish.

  “Perhaps we should go inside,” he said. Faith reluctantly led him into her store, flipping on the overhead lights.

  “Before you start,” she said, surveying his demeanor, “I am Faith Talbert, Ray Talbert’s daughter, but that doesn’t mean I’m a criminal like him. I’ve spent the past several years trying to get on with my life. I don’t appreciate being accused of someone else’s crimes. I didn’t vandalize any shop in this town, and I would never, never do such a thing so I will stop you right there before you go any further.”

  “I don’t remember accusing you, Ms. Fitzpatrick.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “No.” He put a little distance between the two of them, rolling his shoulders. “I didn’t.”

  “Now that CeCe Takes knows who I am, it won’t be long before she forms a posse to prove my guilt.”

  “No one in this town is out to get you.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” She paced the front of her shop, glancing a few times out the front window. “You weren’t here when—” She paused, not wanting to relive the year after her father had been arrested. It had felt like the entire town had turned on her overnight. She hadn’t blamed them at first. Her father had scammed many people out of a lot of money. She had understood their anger, but with time she thought they’d understand it hadn’t been anything she’d done. She had been a child. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t her fault.

  Tully shifted on his feet, silently waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t want to. She’d enjoyed the last couple of days when she had been a stranger to him. She’d rather be a stranger than what she’d soon become—a tagline on Roseley’s page six.

  “Give me the timeline of last night.”

  “I already gave it to Officer Stillwater.”

  “Give it to me.”

  She ran a hand through her hair and drew a breath. “I took the shortcut behind the shops on Third. My tire blew out after it ran over the shattered glass behind The Gypsy Caravan. When I saw the broken window, I worried there was someone hurt inside. I went in, looked around and bumped into Rick Murdock on my way out. That’s it.”

  “What time was that?”

  Faith squeezed her eyes shut to remember. “I don’t know exactly. I had dinner with Caroline around six thirty so...maybe eight?”

  Tully nodded and looked out the front window. “CeCe Takes has a hard time letting things go...” he began.

  “No kidding. But what I need to know is...” She drew a breath. “Who are you going to believe?”

  “I follow the facts, Ms. Fitzpatrick.”

  “I wish more people did. Maybe then they’d let me have a place here. And it’s Faith.” He tipped his head, as if considering her words. “I’ve asked you before to call me Faith.”

  She figured he needed to stay professional where she was concerned. If he thought her guilty, she guessed, he’d continue calling her Ms. Fitzpatrick. Wasn’t that what detectives were supposed to do? Keep their distance with suspects in a criminal investigation? Yes, she thought, stepping closer as a challenge of sorts. If he continued to call her Ms. Fitzpatrick, he would continue to see her as a suspect. It wasn’t a solid conclusion, but she believed his next word
s would tell her everything she needed to know about where she stood with him.

  His expression turned serious. The moments ticked silently between them as she waited for a response.

  “There’s a place for you here,” he said softly. “Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. Back there at The Sandwich Board was a bad moment, but it won’t be your only one. There will be good moments too.”

  Her throat clenched as she noted the sincerity in his voice. She wanted his words to be true, but it was easier to believe the bad stuff. When CeCe had spoken, a darkness had begun settling over her, and she wasn’t sure if anything, not even the gentle timbre of John’s sweet voice, could lift it.

  “I’m not so sure about that,” she said. “Not five minutes ago, you heard for yourself—”

  “I heard. I saw too. There are good people in this town who will support you if...”

  “If what?”

  “If you let them.”

  He exited her shop and she realized he’d seen straight through her. That wasn’t something most people could do.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TULLY EASED HIS boat up to the dock outside Little Lakeside Sports Shop and cut the engine. The trolling motor he’d bought several years ago had been worth its weight in gold if only to provide serene mornings like this. There was nothing better than fishing before the sun rose or the tourists hit the waves on their jet skis.

  There were a handful of anglers he recognized. But each person preferred to stay in his or her own lane, as if to appreciate the silence as much as he did. Moments when the darkness slowly made way for the first whispers of dawn were his favorite part of the day, and the ideal time to reel in breakfast.

  The lake smoothed before him like the blue-gray satin fabric his mother had wrapped around her shoulders to keep off the evening chill. Her perfume had lingered on the fabric a long time after she’d gone. As a boy, he had sometimes sought out her wrap that hung on the back of her closet door. He wouldn’t disturb it, didn’t dare remove it from the hook. He’d only bury his nose in it, recalling the familiar scent like the fuzzy images of a dream.