Flat White

by Sandra Balzo

  ‘Maybe.’ She set the spoon in the saucer with a clink.

  ‘Besides, what do you know about climbing into a garbage truck?’ I asked, eyeing her.

  She sniffed. ‘I’d prefer not to talk about it.’

  I considered worming the story out of her, but it was probably something exciting like her third-grade class had gone on a field trip to Waste Disposal.

  ‘Anyway,’ I said, standing up. ‘I need to see Pavlik.’

  Caron put her hand out. ‘You’re not going to tell him Helena was here.’

  ‘When her husband was killed?’ I shook her off. ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘But you’ve met the woman. She’s a nice person.’

  Yeah, yeah, yeah. ‘So are you, but you can’t tell me that if Bernie cheated on you and you saw a snowplow sitting there just waiting to run him over, you wouldn’t think about it.’

  ‘Think about it is one thing, doing it is another. You’re fulfilling Helena’s self-fulfilling prophecy, you know.’

  I frowned. ‘I believe she’s the only one who can do that.’

  ‘Helena left town because she was afraid she’d be unfairly suspected of killing Barry.’

  ‘Or Helena left town because she did kill Barry.’ I stood up.

  Caron stood up, too, lifting her chin. ‘And as for your question, I couldn’t run Bernie down with a snowplow under any circumstances.’

  ‘No matter how angry you were.’

  ‘No matter.’ She wrinkled her nose again. ‘I can’t drive a manual transmission.’

  The manual transmission was an interesting wrinkle, I thought as I sat in the sheriff’s outer office, waiting for him to finish a meeting. I had not driven a stick shift since I was a teenager, but I assumed it came back to you like riding a bike did.

  But the other consideration was the manual transmission itself. Caron was correct that this particular truck was manual, even though others in the county fleet might be automatic. Pavlik had not committed to whether the parking brake was engaged or not. But even if it had been and somebody simply released it, would that have been enough to send the plow rolling down the street and over Margraves?

  I thought about our block of Junction Road. Was there a hill between Clare’s shop and ours?

  Not much of one. And I did remember hearing the roar of the truck’s engine as Margraves was hit. Unless Sarah was right, and it was the roar of the storm I—

  ‘Maggy?’ Pavlik’s door had opened and two deputies came out, followed by the sheriff. ‘Did you need to see me?’

  ‘Always,’ I said, following him back in and closing the door behind me.

  ‘Whoa,’ he said, turning at the desk. ‘Is this where you throw your coat open, displaying little or no clothes and have your way with me on the desk?’

  ‘Sadly, this is where I throw my coat open displaying jeans and a T-shirt,’ I said, taking off said coat to expose said garments. ‘I’ll do you tonight.’

  ‘Deal.’ He waved me into the guest chair and went to sit in his chair on the opposite side. ‘Should I get a pad out? Am I going to want to take notes?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘I went to the Morrison this morning and met Helena Margraves. Turns out I already knew her though.’

  ‘Really?’ Pavlik cocked his head, frowning. ‘That’s quite a coincidence.’

  ‘Not really. She stopped in the shop on Monday morning.’

  ‘This past Monday?’ If I had not garnered the sheriff’s full attention before, I had it now.

  ‘Yes. Turns out the hotel reservation at the Morrison that Caron told me about was for Helena, not Barry.’

  ‘What was Helena doing here on Monday?’

  ‘She says she found some odd charge purchases on Barry’s card and suspected an affair. When she came across Christy’s name and address, she flew here to find out.’

  Pavlik’s chair squeaked as he leaned forward. ‘Then she lied to Anthony when she said she didn’t know Barry Margraves was here. That he was supposed to be in San Diego.’

  ‘Margraves did have a plane ticket to San Diego. With a stop-off here.’

  ‘Funny way to get to San Diego from Denver.’

  ‘Fly a thousand miles the opposite direction first? Exactly.’

  ‘Did she see him?’

  ‘Did Helena see Barry? She says not. But she did find Christy. In fact, she came into the shop to ask about her.’

  ‘About Christy.’ He had his trusty notepad out.

  ‘Yes, on Monday when Christy was working. Helena said she’d just moved here and was looking for a piano teacher.’

  ‘She certainly couldn’t have expected to find Christy and her husband in flagrante in the coffee shop.’

  ‘No, but Christy had tacked up a note on her studio saying she was across the street at Uncommon Grounds. Helena had Christy’s address and had worked up enough courage, according to her, to go up to her door.’

  ‘And when she wasn’t there, track her to your place via the note?’

  ‘Yes, but she was already having second thoughts, I think. She seemed very unsure of herself, skittish. She managed to order a drink but disappeared before she got it. Though she did offer to pay for it this morning.’

  ‘High marks for that,’ Pavlik said, a bit dryly. ‘What did she say when she came in?’

  ‘She asked for Christy by name, as I recall, so I introduced the two.’

  ‘What was Mrs Margraves’ reaction?’

  ‘To Christy and her yellow rubber gloves? Surprise, I think. But then she saw the tennis bracelet.’

  ‘Which Margraves had bought.’

  ‘And had sent. Which may account for the address Helena found.’

  ‘Margraves was careless to leave it lying around,’ Pavlik said.

  ‘Or Helena was resourceful to find it,’ I countered. ‘It takes balls to track down your husband’s mistress and fly halfway across the country to confront her.’

  ‘And did she confront her?’

  ‘No. Helena says adrenaline got her that far, and I think I believe it. Once face-to-face with Christy, though, she didn’t seem to know what to do.’

  ‘You said she saw the tennis bracelet. What did she say?’

  I thought back. ‘That it was pretty, I think. Christy kind of preened and I asked if it was a gift from Barry.’

  ‘Which pretty much clinched it.’

  ‘Pretty much. Helena was out the door within a minute or two, sans latte.’ I leaned forward. ‘Is it possible that Barry Margraves’ death was more than an accident?’

  ‘Something beyond negligent homicide, you mean?’ I could tell he was irritated, but not at me. ‘Maybe. The initial assumption that it was the driver who was killed cost us time and therefore evidence.’

  ‘Because of the falling snow.’

  ‘Exactly. It’s not like we can go back to look for footprints or other physical evidence now. Even a half hour after the accident it was too late.’

  ‘I know that sometimes I look for trouble when there is none, but—’

  ‘Could Barry Margraves’ death be murder, you mean?’

  I nodded. ‘Is it just coincidence that Helena was here in Brookhills when her husband was killed? And that she suspected he was cheating and had just met his cheatee?’

  He glanced up from a note he was making. ‘You say Helena Margraves already was in Brookhills on Monday. But she flew in yesterday. Anthony picked her up at the airport.’

  ‘She left and came back.’

  ‘Because?’

  ‘Because she picked up a voice message on Tuesday afternoon from Kelly Anthony saying Barry had been killed—’ I interrupted myself. ‘By the way, Kelly told me she’d left a message for Helena to call back. Helena says the voicemail said her husband had been in an accident and was dead. Isn’t that kind of cold, leaving a voicemail with that kind of news? I mean, some people don’t even listen to their voicemails.’

  I was getting a ‘focus, please’ stare from Pavlik. ‘I’ll speak to her. But
you were saying?’

  ‘That Kelly, who I assume identified herself as a Brookhills sheriff’s deputy, left a message saying that Barry was dead.’

  ‘Then Helena would have known Barry’s accident was here in Brookhills.’

  ‘Exactly. So she panicked. Flew back to Denver as soon as she could get out on Tuesday night and then called Anthony back from there.’

  ‘Resourceful is right,’ Pavlik said, tapping his pen on the desk. ‘She pretends to Anthony that she’s just found out and then turns around and flies back the next day, the bereaved wife.’

  ‘Which she is, to be fair.’

  ‘Why all the machinations then?’

  ‘Put yourself in her place,’ I said, trying to do just that. ‘You suspect your husband is cheating and pull together the courage to find out for sure. You follow him out here and confront the woman he’s seeing—’

  ‘But not him, according to her.’

  ‘Yes.’ I hate being interrupted when I’m roleplaying. ‘You’re traumatized because the woman is not exactly what you expected—’

  ‘But is wearing a diamond bracelet your husband charged to his card.’

  ‘You go back to your hotel room, trying to figure out what to do—’

  ‘Do you know this or are you just making it up now?’

  ‘Helena said she was at the Morrison. But wherever it was, she picked up a voicemail saying her husband was, indeed, in the same town and had met an unfortunate end.’ I held out both hands, palm up. ‘Wouldn’t you be confused and frightened?’

  ‘Because I watch too many movies?’

  I had to give him that one. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I might also have wondered how he had died and whether this mysterious new woman had anything to do with it.’

  That stopped me. ‘Christy?’

  ‘In this scenario you’re weaving, Helena Margraves knew full well that she didn’t kill her husband. Wouldn’t she want to know who did, rather than run away afraid she would be implicated?’

  ‘If she were a superhero. But resourceful or not, Helena is a regular human being, afraid of being caught spying on her now-dead husband. She was not thinking clearly. But once she got home and realized he had been run over by a snowplow, she—’

  ‘Could relax. Knowing, at least, that her husband’s death was an accident not anything more sinister?’

  ‘Wouldn’t you be a little relieved?’ I asked.

  ‘I guess I would.’ Pavlik picked up the phone. ‘Where is Helena Margraves now?’

  I glanced down at the time on my own phone. ‘The airport, presumably. She said she had an eleven o’clock flight to Denver.’

  ‘It’s just past ten. I’ll have Anthony get over there.’

  NINE

  ‘Helena is going to freak,’ I said, more than a little regretful about running in to Pavlik to tattle. This was one of the drawbacks of being engaged to the sheriff.

  ‘Are they going to arrest her?’ Christy asked. The little redhead had stayed on when I had arrived back at the shop. Sarah had bailed before I had my coat off.

  ‘Pavlik says they just want to talk to her,’ I told her as I unloaded cups from the dishwasher and handed them to Christy to put on the shelf.

  ‘That’s what they always say.’ Christy’s eyes were wide. ‘Then, clang! You’re in the slammer.’

  I guessed she should know. ‘I was thinking about your bracelet.’

  ‘The one that was stolen, you mean?’ She put her hand up to her mouth. ‘Oh! You think Helena stole it?’

  Sure, why not pile on the widow? ‘You were wearing it when you met on Monday. She commented on it, remember?’

  Christy’s face dropped. ‘And I showed it to her all happy. She must have been devastated.’

  Devastated enough to run over her husband with a snowplow the next day?

  ‘And jealous, of course,’ Christy added.

  ‘Helena took the first flight she could get home on Tuesday after she heard about Barry’s death.’

  ‘Proving she didn’t love the man,’ Christy said. ‘How do you just leave him lying there like that? It was awful for me, when you wouldn’t let me go to him.’ She put her hand to her heart. ‘Though I know you had the best of intentions.’

  ‘You wouldn’t want to remember him like that.’ Or mess up a possible crime scene even more than it had been, as it turned out.

  I held a latte mug up to the light. ‘Is that lipstick?’

  ‘Yes,’ Christy said. ‘Put it back.’

  I obeyed.

  ‘But for his own wife, just to up and leave like that. Only to have to come back and identify his poor broken body.’

  ‘Panic, I guess.’ I passed her another cup.

  ‘More like guilt.’ She frowned, thinking. ‘I was wearing the bracelet Tuesday, wasn’t I? And the package arrived Tuesday, too, and they were both taken.’

  ‘They were together – the bracelet and the package – when they were stolen, right?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Christy’s head was bobbing up and down.

  ‘In your underwear drawer.’

  Christy’s eyes narrowed. ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘When you were on the phone to Barry, you said that’s where you were going to put the envelope until he arrived.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘Dear Barry. It had his writing and return address and now I’ll never see it again.’

  A package with her own return address on it would have been hard for Helena to resist if she’d seen it. But when did she have the opportunity? Tuesday before she caught the flight back to Denver seemed a real stretch. ‘Pavlik says the underwear drawer is the first place that thieves look.’

  ‘But why look at all?’ Christy asked, leaning past me to take another mug out of the dishwasher. ‘I don’t have much of anything to steal.’

  As witnessed by her stripped to the barebones house. ‘Somebody saw you with the bracelet. The envelope was just a bonus.’

  ‘Maybe Helena didn’t leave after all,’ Christy said.

  ‘Pavlik said Kelly Anthony met her at the airport yesterday, though. Returning.’ Can’t return, if you never leave. Which should be a country song, if it wasn’t already.

  ‘Please,’ Christy said disdainfully. ‘If you walk out of an airport, people just assume you’ve come off a plane. Easy peasy.’

  More personal experience? ‘But—’

  My phone rang. I glanced over intending to silence it, but saw it was Caron. I picked up as Christy closed the dishwasher and disappeared into the office.

  ‘She’s back!’ Caron’s voice said. And roaring mad. ‘You didn’t steal her passport, did you?’

  ‘Wait, wait, wait,’ I said, putting up my hand in a stop sign like she could see me. ‘You’re talking about Helena Margraves?’

  ‘Yes, she couldn’t get through security because her passport is missing. She’s rifling through her dirty room as we speak.’

  I checked the time. Ten after eleven. ‘Is Kelly Anthony there?’

  ‘The sheriff’s deputy? No, why would she be?’

  ‘Because … No, forget it,’ I said, changing my mind. ‘I’ll be right over.’

  Hanging up, I hesitated. I didn’t have time to get Sarah back to the shop. That meant leaving Christy to man the store. And I couldn’t tell her where I was going, or she’d want to go with me.

  So I fibbed. ‘Be right back,’ I called. ‘Sheriff’s business.’ And I was out the door.

  Caron was at the desk when I got there, as was Helena Margraves, purse clutched in her hands, parka draped over the roller suitcase at her side. I hung back by the sofa, the better to listen.

  ‘… And don’t have another ID with me,’ Helena was saying.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Caron said. ‘Are you sure that your passport isn’t in your purse? Sometimes a fresh eye helps. My husband finds things where I swear I have searched a hundred times. I could take a peek if you—’ She was reaching for the bag as she said it.

  ‘Ple
ase.’ Helena pulled the purse away and set it on her suitcase. ‘Don’t you think I looked?’

  ‘What about the cab?’

  ‘Ride-share. And I’ve already checked with the driver.’ Helena’s jaw was tight as she picked up her parka.

  ‘Did you check your coat pockets? I always slip my passport in my right one, so I can get it out easily at secur—’

  ‘I’m not an idiot,’ Helena snapped. ‘It’s not in my purse or my pocket. Which is why I must have left it in the room.’

  ‘But you’ve checked and it’s not there,’ Caron said, reasonably.

  ‘Not anymore. For all I know I left it on the dresser and your maid took it.’

  ‘Your room hasn’t been made up yet. Besides, our housekeepers are not thieves.’

  ‘Speaking of thieves,’ a voice said from behind me. ‘Did you steal my bracelet?’

  I closed my eyes, counted to three and turned. ‘You’re supposed to be manning the store, Christy.’

  The redhead’s arms were folded across her chest. ‘You lied to me, Maggy.’ Her foot was tapping.

  Helena Margraves slipped on her jacket and faced Christy, hands in her pockets. ‘How dare you accuse me of stealing? You’re the one who is a thief. A husband-stealer.’

  The widow launched herself at the wannabe-wife. Christy staggered back, gravity and her heavy wool coat pulling her down backwards as the corner of the coffee table caught her at the back of the knees. The two women landed on the sofa, one on top of each other.

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,’ was all Caron could say.

  She had been equally helpful when we found our other partner Patricia face-up in a pool of skim milk some three years back.

  For me, on the other hand, this was small stuff. Nobody had died. At least, today.

  I hauled Helena off Christy so the redhead could sit up. ‘Enough. Caron – call the sheriff.’

  She just stared at me.

  I sighed.

  ‘The sheriff?’ Helena Margraves repeated.’ I didn’t even hurt her.’

  ‘Says you,’ Christy said, rubbing her arm. ‘I think I have a bruise.’

  ‘And I have a dead husband,’ Margraves countered.