by Sandra Balzo
Rebecca bristled, which saved me the energy of doing it myself. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say, Sarah.’ She awkwardly rubbed Christy’s shoulder. ‘Of course he didn’t, hon. Don’t you listen to her.’
Awkward or not, Christy seemed reassured. Or at least diverted. She lifted her tear-stained face. ‘It’s not that I think he stepped in front of the truck on purpose. Suicide by snowplow would be too odd, don’t you think? And unnecessary. It’s not like we were married or anything.’
Even then, divorce seemed the better alternative. ‘Absolutely,’ was all I could think to say.
‘But he certainly didn’t want to come into the coffeehouse,’ Christy continued. ‘In fact, he seemed focused on leaving.’
‘Escaping, from the sounds of it,’ was Sarah’s contribution.
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ Now Rebecca was patting Christy’s head like she was an Irish setter. This I could have done. ‘Maybe he forgot something in the car and went back to retrieve it. Right, Sarah?’ she asked pointedly.
‘Righto.’ Sarah was pouring milk into a stainless-steel pitcher and did not look up.
‘He was dropped off by a ride-share, I think,’ Christy said, chewing on her lip.
‘So he forgot something and was trying to catch the driver before he left,’ Rebecca said, nodding at me to hop up on the bandwagon Sarah had already joined.
‘A gift for you, maybe?’ I offered feebly.
Sarah twisted a portafilter on the espresso machine and pushed the button to pull a shot before commencing frothing. She said nothing.
But Christy had brightened a bit at the thought of a prezzy. ‘You think?’
‘Of course,’ Rebecca said, throwing me a grateful smile. ‘Didn’t you say he was bringing you something for your four-month anniversary?’
‘Sending it, he said.’ Christy seemed to be buying into the scenario we were weaving. ‘But maybe that was all part of the surprise. He said it would probably arrive today or tomorrow, but I shouldn’t open it until he was able to be here to see me do it.’
Rebecca flung out a hand, sending the coffee mug next to her sliding. She steadied it. ‘That must be it! And then he shows up with it in person.’
‘I think it’s a diamond,’ Christy confided breathlessly. ‘For an engagement ring that we’ll pick out together …’
She let the rest of the sentence go, the reality that there would be no ‘together’ seeming to slap her in the face.
‘He must have loved you very much,’ Rebecca continued gamely. ‘I bet he was just setting up another surprise, leaving like that. Right, Maggy?’
Having witnessed the leave-taking myself, I was pretty sure Sarah was right and Barry was fleeing the scene when the plow hit him.
Before I could say ‘righto’ like Sarah had, the door opened. Deputy Kelly Anthony was stomping the snow off her boots on the porch.
‘Should I take my boots off?’ the deputy asked, stepping in and seeing my sock feet.
‘Only if you want—’ I started.
‘Cold feet.’ Sarah finished. ‘The tile floor is freezing and Maggy’s the only one anal enough to keep slippers here.’ Sarah disappeared behind the counter and reappeared with my slippers, setting them on the counter itself.
‘Don’t put those there,’ I protested. ‘It’s unsanitary.’ As I went to take the slippers, my right foot landed in a cold puddle, likely left by Sarah’s defrosting boots as she had made her way into the serving area. Without stomping.
Anthony grinned. ‘You sure you don’t want me to take them off? I don’t mind.’
‘So you, too, can have cold, wet feet?’ I put my hand on the counter for balance to slip my wet, socked foot into dry slipper. I considered stripping off the sock first, but it did not seem a good look in the dining room. Especially after I had criticized Sarah for being less than sanitary.
‘Wah, wah, wah.’ Sarah came around the corner and snagged the drink she had just made – presumably a flat white – from the service window where she’d left it for retrieval. ‘Anybody want one?’
‘What is it?’ Rebecca asked, cocking her head.
‘Small latte,’ I said before Sarah could answer. Putting the one slippered foot down, I stepped sideways with the other foot, landing on a small pile of melting snow cut with sand and salt from the street. ‘Damn it.’
‘We should wipe that slush up,’ Christy said absently from the table. It was a measure of her grief and confusion that she already wasn’t on it.
Anthony did a double-wipe of her shoes on the rug and came over to me as I slipped on my other slipper. ‘I’m trying to get the picture,’ she said, keeping her voice down. ‘You told me out there that the deceased is a friend of Ms Wrigley?’
‘Virtually,’ Sarah said, joining us.
‘Virtually?’
‘They met online, Sarah means,’ I explained. ‘A dating site.’
‘Dating?’ She seemed surprised.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘But I guess it’s the way to meet people these days.’
‘“These days” being the last two decades,’ Sarah said mildly. Or mildly for her.
‘No, I was just surprised,’ the deputy said. ‘Wasn’t she—’
‘Dating my cousin, the killer?’ Sarah asked. ‘Yes. Christy and Ronny started up in your county jail and continued to state prison. But apparently it’s over. Though who knows given …’ She chin-gestured toward the street, still teeming with emergency vehicles.
‘Anyway,’ I said, taking in Anthony’s puzzled expression, ‘Christy met Barry Margraves online, but this was the first time they’d met in person.’
‘Which is why he had stopped here in the first place,’ Anthony said, seeming to recover. She flipped a page of her notebook. ‘Quite a shock.’
‘Especially for him,’ Sarah said under her breath.
‘For the deceased,’ the deputy said.
Sarah shrugged. ‘From what I hear, he got a gander at Christy and stepped in front of the truck.’
Anthony cocked her head. ‘You’re saying Mr Margraves killed himself with the snowplow?’
‘No, no,’ I said, holding up my hands. ‘Sarah is being … Sarah. I saw the accident and that’s just what it was. An accident. Margraves stepped back off the curb onto the street in front of the plow.’
Christy’s head had swiveled our way and now she left Rebecca to join us.
‘I’m Christy Wrigley,’ she said, holding out her hand to the deputy.
‘I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms Wrigley,’ Anthony said, shaking Christy’s hand.
‘Thank you. We were to be married.’
Anthony glanced at me. I shrugged.
Christy caught it. ‘Barry was bringing me a diamond. You said it yourself, Maggy.’
I grimaced. This is what I got for following Rebecca’s lead and trying to be nice. ‘I didn’t actually. You said he was sending you a gift and that you thought it was a diamond. I merely didn’t … disagree.’
‘See?’ Christy asked, sticking her head out like a chicken.
‘Yes,’ Anthony said, her face saying just the opposite. ‘This diamond, did you say he had it on his person or was sending it?’
‘We don’t know,’ I said, before Christy could further confuse things. ‘Barry told Christy he was sending her a gift, which she presumed was a diamond. When he surprised her by showing up here in person, she thought—’
‘That he might have it with him,’ Anthony said, nodding. ‘There’s no sign of it.’
‘Do you need me to identify Barry’s body, deputy?’ Christy asked, her hand playing at her neck like she was wearing a string of pearls. ‘It would be terribly difficult, but—’
Rebecca had jumped up and was now at her elbow. ‘You don’t want to do that, Christy. Think about it: is that how you want to remember Barry?’
‘No.’ A wistful smile had come to Christy’s face. ‘I want to see him forever as he is in his profile picture, I think. Smiling up at the camera with
French bulldog Buster. But if the authorities need a formal identification, it’s my duty.’
Kelly Anthony cleared her throat.’ No need for that, Ms Wrigley—’
‘Christy.’
‘Thank you, Christy. For now, the deceased … Mr Margraves did have picture ID on him.’
‘His passport, I’m sure.’ Christy’s head was bobbing up and down. ‘He was just in Europe.’
‘We didn’t find a passport, but he did have a Colorado driver’s license. Is he—’
‘Going to get a Wisconsin one?’ Christy anticipated, seeming to want to prove – at least to herself – that she knew the man. ‘I’m sure he planned to. It is state law, isn’t it? Once you move here permanently?’
‘Within sixty days of relocating,’ Anthony told her. ‘So where was Mr Margraves staying for now? With you?’
Christy colored up at that. ‘No, I … well, not yet. He would not just show up at my place of work with his suitcase. I mean, he was a gentleman.’
‘Of course,’ Anthony said. ‘A hotel then? Or a vacation rental.’
‘I don’t know,’ Christy had to admit. ‘He had stopped by to surprise me, as Maggy said.’
‘Maybe the driver who dropped him off could help,’ I said quickly.
‘Another driver dropped Mr Margraves off?’ Again, Anthony seemed puzzled.
‘Ride-share, I think,’ Christy said, head bobbing up and down. ‘Barry prefers them to cabs. Not that money is a consideration. Barry gave me this.’ She held out her diamond bracelet but kept on talking. ‘It was the conversation he enjoyed, he said. People from all walks of life. He loves … loved meeting people.’ Abruptly, she broke into tears.
Rebecca put an arm around her and led her away toward the restroom.
Kelly Anthony turned to us. ‘How long has Barry Margraves worked in Brookhills?’
I cocked my head. ‘I didn’t realize he already had a job here, but I guess that explains why he’s moving from Denver in the first place.’
‘He didn’t have a commercial license on his person, though,’ Anthony said, taking out the Colorado license and laying it on her notebook. ‘He should have.’
‘A commercial license for what?’ Sarah asked.
Instead of answering the question, Anthony asked another. It was a deflection tactic of Pavlik’s, too. I assume they teach it in Sheriff 101. ‘Just how well does Ms Wrigley know Mr Margraves?’
‘I guess they talked a lot on the phone,’ I told her. ‘I think it was a real relationship, at least for her.’
‘And maybe for him, until he got a load of the craziness that is Christy,’ Sarah said.
‘Be nice,’ I said. ‘She wasn’t wearing her gloves.’
‘Gloves or no, still crazy,’ Sarah said and turned to the deputy. ‘Why do you ask how well she knew him? Is the guy a crook or something?’
‘Not that I can tell.’ Anthony punched up something on her phone. ‘Nice house in Denver, dog named Buster and’ – she looked up from her phone – ‘wife named Helena.’
‘Wife?’ Sarah repeated loudly.
‘Shh.’ I took a step back to check around the corner. Rebecca and Christy were standing in the corridor outside the restroom. The redhead’s back was toward me, but Rebecca glanced up.
I lowered my voice and said to Anthony, ‘You’re telling us that Barry Margraves is married? I mean, like, happily married?’
‘As opposed to happily cheating married?’ Sarah clarified.
‘They married fifteen years ago,’ Anthony said. ‘As for the rest, he apparently was happy enough to have booked a trip for two to London next week,’ Anthony said. ‘We found the ticket receipt in his coat pocket.’
Sarah shrugged. ‘So? How do you know it wasn’t for him and Christy?’
Good point, I thought. ‘Their four-month anniversary was coming up and, remember, Christy was expecting a proposal. Maybe she’s right and the trip was to celebrate, or he was going to whisk her away to get married.’
‘Have to get divorced first,’ Sarah pointed out. ‘I think this engagement was in Christy’s fertile imagination.’
‘If so, the idea was planted there by Margraves,’ I said. ‘As for the trip, he apparently traveled to Europe extensively.’
‘Expensive for a man in his line of work,’ Kelly said, checking her notes.
The deputy apparently knew more about Barry Margraves than we did. I hadn’t bothered to ask Christy what her new beau did for a living. ‘My point is, if a man goes on a business trip, how’s his wife to know if he’s brought along a bimbo?’
‘Bimbo?’ Kelly Anthony repeated. ‘I thought Ms Wrigley was your friend.’
‘Sorry. Just an automatic reaction on my part,’ I said, shamefaced.
‘Maggy’s ex-husband Ted used to take his bimbo on business trips,’ Sarah explained.
‘Got you,’ the deputy said with the wisp of a grin. ‘Anyway, the ticket was in the names of Helena and Barry Margraves.’
Hmm. ‘We don’t have to tell Christy right now, do we?’ I asked, wanting to make up for calling her a bimbo.
‘I would like to know if she knew,’ Anthony said.
‘That Barry Margraves was married?’ I asked. ‘I doubt it. In fact, I’d stake my life on it.’
‘Let’s not go overboard, Maggy,’ Sarah said. ‘Christy was dating a convicted murderer before this. A married man is peanuts by comparison.’
‘Whose side are you on?’ I demanded.
‘The truth,’ Sarah said, making me want to gag a little. ‘The guy was too good to be true. Christy should have known it.’
‘Maybe.’
‘I still don’t understand,’ Anthony said, tapping her pen on her pad. ‘We know Margraves was here long enough to be working for Brookhills County. How is it that he and Christy Wrigley just met today?’
‘About time,’ Rebecca’s voice said huffily from the corridor.
‘They’ve corresponded for three months, nearly four,’ I said. ‘But you say he worked for Brookhills?’
‘Sorry, sorry,’ a man’s voice was saying. ‘You might want to wait a beat before going in there.’
‘Maggy?’ Christy, this time.
‘Can we keep a lid on this, please?’ I asked Anthony again before I stuck my head around the corner. A man was coming out of the bathroom, checking his fly. ‘Harold?’
‘Sorry,’ the portly driver said with a sheepish grin as he snagged his parka from a hook. ‘Spicy pad thai last night. I should know better.’
I glanced out to where the garbage truck/snowplow sat with its nose deep in the mound of snow. ‘You can’t have been in the bathroom the whole time.’
‘Yeah, really sorry to hog it.’ He nodded toward Christy, whose hand was on the knob. ‘I kind of fell asleep. Or my butt did.’
‘Wait,’ Kelly Anthony said, picking up on my confusion. ‘Who is this?’
‘Harold Byerly. He drives the snowplow.’ I waved toward the window.
The deputy was staring at Harold Byerly, but his gaze had followed mine. ‘Whose truck is that?’
‘It’s not yours?’ Anthony asked, her face gone white.
‘Hell, no.’ He went to the front door and threw it open to stick his head out. ‘I left mine up … Well, will you look at that?’ He pulled back in. ‘It’s gone.’
FIVE
‘OMG. OMG. O.M … G.’
‘Is it just me,’ said Sarah, watching Harold Byerly, head in hands at a table by the window, ‘or is there something disturbing about a sixty-something man whose pants are riding dangerously low using texting acronyms like some twelve-year-old girl?’
‘You mean the man who just found out his unattended snowplow ran somebody over while he was purging himself of Thai food in our bathroom?’ I asked, coming back to the counter. ‘I’d say give him a break.’
Sarah had given me two steaming mugs of coffee which I had placed in front of both Harold and Deputy Kelly Anthony, who was sitting across from him at the table. Neither of
them touched it.
Anthony had her notebook laid out on the table. ‘What time did you park your truck?’
‘Maybe close to eight?’ He glanced over at me for confirmation.
I nodded. ‘Thereabouts.’
‘But it was nearly nine when you came out just now.’
‘I told you, spicy pad thai. I love it, but … well, it doesn’t love me.’
Sarah snorted and he glanced around. ‘I wouldn’t have ordered it if I knew it was going to snow this morning.’
And therefore, he’d be driving the plow, presumably.
‘It was in the forecast,’ Sarah pointed out, elbows propped on the service counter. ‘Besides, if you weren’t plowing, you’d be picking up garbage.’
‘True, but that’s not as stressful. Stress and pad thai’ – he wound his index and middle finger around each other and shook his head – ‘not a good combination, take it from me.’
I would do that, because I sure as hell was not going to ask any more questions about it.
‘Why is that?’
I knocked one elbow out from under Sarah. ‘Stop. If you want to do research, clean the bathroom.’
‘I was thinking maybe Christy should do that.’ She straightened up and glanced over her shoulder. ‘Therapy.’
Rebecca had taken Christy into our office.
‘I’ll let you suggest that,’ I said. ‘On the other hand, don’t.’ Because she would and then tell Christy it was my idea.
‘… sure you took it out of gear and set the brake?’ Anthony was asking.
Harold Byerly bristled. ‘Of course, I did. I told you that.’
‘You’ll forgive my question,’ Anthony said, dryly. ‘You left an unattended snowplow running for nearly an hour while you took a dump.’
‘I like this woman,’ Sarah whispered.
‘I didn’t leave it running,’ Byerly hesitated. ‘Or maybe I did. I remember thinking I’d only be a minute so maybe I didn’t want the cab to get cold.’
Another snort from Sarah.
‘Hey,’ Byerly said, twisting in his chair. ‘You try to start one of these trucks on a cold morning.’
