by Cindy Stark
Before Anya could convince her otherwise, Hazel stepped into the river, determined to investigate further.
Cool water rushed around her calves and soaked into her sneakers. Though the river was low this time of year, especially because of the heatwave they’d endured, the water still rushed against her, reminding her of its force.
“What are you doing?” Anya called from behind, her voice holding traces of panic.
“I’ve got to see,” she said without looking back.
Hazel slowly slogged her way across, taking careful steps lest the rocks on the riverbed become unstable and cause her to tumble into the water.
The closer she walked, the more certain she became. The shape grew more defined, and her pulse skyrocketed. It could be the weapon that was used to kill Isaac. The odds were in her favor.
When she reached it, she found herself in a conundrum. If it was the murder weapon, she didn’t want her fingerprints on it, and she didn’t want to disturb any that might still be there. Though she wasn’t sure if the water could wash them away or not.
So, she did the only thing she could think of. She planted her butt on the muddy riverbank and took off a shoe. Then she removed her sock and worked to stuff her wet foot back into the water-logged sneaker. Easier said than done.
Back in the water, she used the sock to retrieve the weapon, grabbing it by the firing end which was less likely to have fingerprints. Then she made her way back to the opposite shore, holding the dripping sock and gun out to her side.
Anya’s face was a mask of white when Hazel sloshed back on land. She studied the weapon Hazel held, and a strong wave of fear smacked Hazel. “Throw it back.”
Her voice was low and fearful. Fingers of trepidation crept up Hazel’s spine, and she shifted the gun as far from Anya as possible. “You know I can’t do that, Anya. Why would you want me to?”
“You know what this will mean.”
Hazel swallowed a dose of her own fear. “Anya, did you use this to kill your husband?”
“No,” she cried and burst into tears. “But I just know they’ll find a way to use it against me.”
Oh, dear. She absolutely couldn’t throw the pistol back into the water, but she feared if she didn’t, she’d have a disaster on her hands. Truth be told, Anya’s reaction had cast a tinge of doubt inside her mind.
Hazel called on every shred of calm she could muster and willed it toward Anya. It likely wouldn’t do any good, but she had to try. “Sit back down, Anya, and try to breathe. This will be okay.”
Anya did as she asked and dropped her face into her hands. Muffled sobs rippled through the peaceful air.
Before Hazel did anything else, before the situation could take a turn for the worse, she filched the phone from her pocket and dialed Peter’s cellphone.
“Hazel,” he answered, with a smile in his voice. “Glad you called. I have good news about the search.”
She swallowed hard. “Peter, I found a gun.”
“Where?” Shock reverberated in Peter’s voice.
Anya jerked her gaze toward Hazel and pinned her with an accusatory look.
“It’s okay, Anya.” She spoke in a calm voice. “Trust me, okay?”
Anya shook her head, and then stood abruptly. Fear shot through Hazel’s veins. But instead of approaching Hazel, she took off down the river bank, her sobs echoing off the water.
Oh, Blessed Mother.
“Hazel.” Peter’s demanding voice ripped across the phone line. “Talk to me.”
Her heart galloped. “This is bad. I need you, or one of your men if they’re close. I’m by the river. Anya was here.”
“Was?”
She panicked as Anya disappeared around a bend, her form swallowed by the mass of trees. “I found a gun. In the water across from her house. Anya freaked. And now she just took off. I don’t know where she’s headed.”
“I see.”
She envied the calm in his voice and wished she could summon some for herself.
“Which direction? North or south?”
She sighed, wanting to cry. “South.”
“I’ll send men to head her off. I’m on my way, too. Hang tight.”
“Hurry, Peter. Please hurry.”
Hazel pocketed her phone and headed in the opposite direction from where Anya had disappeared. She made sure she had a firm grip on the gun before she climbed the stone steps that she and Peter had used on numerous occasions.
She didn’t know if she should head toward Anya’s house to see if any officers remained or wait where she was. Anya could have gone home, so heading in that direction probably wasn’t the best idea.
Especially not if Anya had turned into a desperate killer.
She pondered that consideration for a moment but couldn’t make herself believe it to be true. She’d sensed a tremendous amount of fear in Anya, but no malice. So, she was either innocent or a psychopath.
An hour ago, she would have bet innocent. Now, she wasn’t sure.
The sound of a fast-approaching vehicle reassured her that everything would be okay. Peter would come, and he and his men could sort this out much better than she could.
She glanced at the soaked sock and water-logged weapon that had likely taken a man’s life and held it further from her body.
Peter stopped his police cruiser at the side of the road next to her and jumped from his vehicle. He took one look at her and shook his head. “You never fail to surprise me.”
She wanted to smile but couldn’t. “Can you take this, please?”
He walked to the back of his car and popped the trunk. “Let me get an evidence bag.”
She waited until he’d retrieved a plastic sack and rejoined her. He held open the bag in front of her.
“Do you want only the gun or my sock, too?”
He dropped his gaze to her feet and wet capris. “The gun. I’ll put the sock in a separate bag.”
She let the weapon fall into the plastic sack with a thud.
He zipped the bag and placed it in the front seat of his vehicle. He returned with a second bag, accepted her sock, and then assessed her. “Why didn’t you call me when you saw the gun? You didn’t need to go in after it.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed like the right thing to do. I didn’t want it to get lost, and I guess I needed to see it for myself.”
“And get soaked in the process.”
She lifted a distressed gaze to him. “I could really use a hug.”
He enveloped her in his strong arms, and the tightness in her chest eased. “I’m really worried about Anya.”
He squeezed her tighter. “Don’t worry. My men will find her. She can’t go far.”
Finding her wasn’t the issue. “I’m worried about her mental state. She asked me to throw the gun back in the water.”
He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. “She did? Did she threaten you? Good grief, Hazel. She could have hurt you.”
“No. I just…”
She groaned and dropped her forehead against his shoulder. “I don’t know. She didn’t seem like she wanted to hurt me. Just that she wanted to run away from everything and hide anything that has to do with the case.”
She lifted her gaze to him. “Does that make her guilty?”
He released a heavy sigh and held her gaze. “It doesn’t make her guilty, but it sure doesn’t make her look innocent, does it?”
She slowly shook her head as sadness enveloped her. “No.”
Voices rumbled from the radio on his shoulder. “Ten ninety-two. We have the suspect in custody. Over.”
She lifted her gaze to him. “They have her?”
“Sounds like it.”
He pecked her softly on the lips. “I need to go, Hazel.”
She nodded and stepped away from him. “Take care of her, okay? She’s in a fragile state, and I’m not convinced she did this.”
“Will do.”
Another quick kiss, and he was off.
She
watched his car drive farther down the road toward Anya’s and was grateful, this time, that she didn’t have to tag along.
She liked Anya. She really did. But she was too confused by what had happened and her feelings about everything to make any sense of them.
She needed time, and she had a feeling Anya would be indisposed for a while anyway.
Nine
Hazel flipped the sign on the door to her shop to show that she was closed. She’d arranged for Edmond Egginton to stop by the teashop after hours to help her with the aesthetics of her store. When she’d first moved in, she’d spent a fair amount of time planning what would work best in each space, but she’d love to have a professional’s opinion, too.
Also, she looked forward to the opportunity to gain more in-depth information about Isaac from his brother. Nothing wrong with killing two birds with one stone. Except she didn’t kill birds, she thought and chuckled.
A few moments later, a sporty black Mazda slid into a parking space in front of her store, and Edmond exited his car. Hazel watched through the window of her shop as he made his way to the door. He walked with slumped shoulders and carried the disposition of a man weighted by the world.
The casual clothes he wore, from a snappy light blue polo to his brown slacks and loafers came across as professional though. She had the sense that he’d had to overcome many hurdles in his life, and he was prepared to continue to do so if that’s what it took to succeed.
The bell on the shop’s door tinkled when he opened it, and he stepped inside. He managed a genuine, if not ecstatic smile when he spotted her.
She returned the gesture, adding warmth to her own smile and stepped forward to greet him. “Edmond. It’s good to see you. Thanks for squeezing me into your busy schedule so soon.”
She had no idea if he was busy or not, but a little flattery always helped to open people’s hearts.
Edmond gave her a curt nod. “No problem.”
He stopped where he was and slowly perused the store. “You have good energy in here.”
She appreciated that he approved of her efforts.
He held out three odd-looking copper coins with holes in the middle that were tied together by a red ribbon.
She glanced from them to his face with questioning eyes.
“My gift to you. A symbol of wealth and luck with your business. Keep them near your cash register.”
She accepted them with a smile.
“However, there are a few things that might help.”
Of course. That was why she’d solicited his advice and opinions. “Where do you think I should start first?”
“Can we sit in your chairs over there?”
She lifted a hand, gesturing for him to proceed. “Of course. Let’s be comfortable. Would you care for a cup of tea? Majestic Mint is very refreshing, or I find that I like the organic strawberry orange green tea sometimes in the late afternoon. It has a bit of a pick-me-up without causing me to lose sleep at night.”
He folded himself into the coral-colored chair. “The strawberry orange sounds nice.”
She busied herself preparing them both a cup of tea while he continued to peruse her store from his vantage point in that area. When she finished, she brought their cups to the small table between the chairs and set them down. “It will need to steep for a few minutes.”
He lifted his chin to indicate he understood. He pulled a notebook from his leather case along with a pen, and then he focused on her. “What would you say are your objectives with your teashop? What experiences are you trying to provide your customers?”
Hazel glanced about. “Mostly, I want them to feel welcome and comfortable, like it’s perfectly acceptable to walk in and stay awhile. I’d like to show off my selection of teas in a pleasing way that would encourage customers to want to try different things. And, of course, I’d like to make money. I do love creating and selling tea, but I have to earn a living as well.”
He nodded. “Of course. I understand. That is the reason most people go into business.”
She sat nervously while he jotted notes and realized no one had scrutinized her business so closely before.
“What about education? Do you think your customers would purchase more if they understood the properties of tea better?”
She drew her brows together. “I hadn’t really thought about that, but, yes. I think that might be a good thing.”
Edmond shifted his gaze to the side, studied a display of tea, and then glanced toward a different one. “Do you have any particular order in how you place the items in your store?”
“Umm…no? I guess I just place a new tea wherever there is space available, or I might put it in the place of a retired one.”
He wrote more notes. “I see.”
She felt like she hadn’t studied for a test at school. “Are those all things I should be considering?”
He lifted his gaze, and she realized he had startling blue eyes. “I think we could start with some of those and see if we can improve the energy in here, which will hopefully translate into more sales. Also, a water feature near the front door encourages prosperity. I can recommend a dragon wall fountain that would look nice.”
“I would appreciate that.”
She removed the tea strainers from their cups while he continued to write. “Would you like sugar or cream with yours?”
He shook his head. “I’ll drink it straight.”
When he finished and set down his notepad, she breathed a sigh of relief. He lifted his cup and tasted, and then gave her a curt nod of approval. “Very nice. I’ve tried your tea at my mother’s house a few times, and it’s always been very good.”
A blush warmed her cheeks. “Thank you.”
She sipped her tea and then dared to venture through the door he’d opened. “Is your mother doing any better? She wasn’t home the last time I dropped off tea.”
He snorted. “She’s a disaster, bent on making sure Anya pays for her crime.”
Which didn’t surprise Hazel at all. “What about you? Do you think Anya did it?”
He lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Seems likely. She and my brother didn’t get along, and he was found outside her house. The gun, too, from what I hear.”
She didn’t comment on the logistics of the found weapon or that she’d been the one to discover it. “I agree. All of that doesn’t bode well for her.”
“Plus, she’ll be the one who ends up with his life insurance money.”
Hazel’s interest perked. She hadn’t heard about a life insurance policy. She’d be sure to mention that to Peter, though she imagined his officers had that one figured out already.
She let those thoughts settle for a moment before she continued. “But if it wasn’t Anya, who would be your next suspect? Did he have other enemies? People he’d angered, perhaps?”
Edmond studied her as he sipped tea, and she had the distinct feeling he was using that time to size her up. She worked to keep her aura clear and cheerful.
“I hope you’re not suggesting me,” he said with a careful tone that didn’t match his inner energy.
She gave a light laugh. “Of course not. I mean, I know you didn’t have the greatest relationship, but…”
“I blame my mother for that. She babied Isaac to the point that she emasculated him. She never held him accountable for anything he did wrong, unlike me.”
Hazel wanted to stop him and let him know that he was making himself look guiltier, but she let him continue. “As a child, you mean?”
He snorted. “A child. A teenager. An adult. Only six months ago, Isaac stole my mother’s wedding ring and hawked it in Boston.”
She lifted surprised brows.
“She did nothing. Nothing. Didn’t call the cops. Didn’t accuse him of it. Nothing. That ring was her most prized possession she often said. One of the few things she had left of our dad.”
That seemed strange. “She wasn’t bothered by it at all?”
He shrugged. �
�She was when she accused me of taking it. But when she found out it was Isaac? Nothing.”
She couldn’t fathom Gretchen’s thoughts behind her actions. “That’s a very odd relationship.”
He shook his head in disgust. “My advice? Whatever you do, don’t come between the two of them.”
She didn’t point out that to do so might be impossible now that Isaac had been murdered. “What about someone else? A friend? Business partner? Anya said he’d moved to Boston a while back. What about a neighbor there, or she’d mentioned a doctor of some sort.”
He swallowed his tea hard and choked. When he’d cleared his throat, he continued. “Doctor? If you’d call that quack a doctor. He had Isaac convinced someone had poisoned him.”
Like Anya? “Maybe the doctor did have a reason then? Do you know his name?”
Edmond scoffed. “Beidleman. I’m sure you could find him on the internet. Just search for idiot doctor or quack.”
“But Isaac liked him, right?” she pressed.
He sighed and lifted his cup. “As far as I can tell. My mother despised him because he lured her baby boy to Boston, but she’d never say that to Isaac’s face. With him, everything was hunky-dory.”
Hunky-dory? She hadn’t heard that phrase since her grandmother had passed. She might have to share that one with Peter.
She lifted her own cup. “Hmm… Well, it sounds like the police don’t have a lot to go on besides Anya.”
“Have they talked to Scooter Maccarino?”
Hazel straightened in her seat. “Who is Scooter Maccarino?”
“One of my former business partners. Isaac swindled him out of a nice chunk of change when he’d talked him into investing in the quack doctor’s outfit. Isaac said they were going to bottle some sort of cure-all health tonic. Of course, it failed. Like everything Isaac did.”
Finally, another person she could consider as a suspect. “Is Scooter still in the area?”
Edmond leaned back and crossed his slender legs. “He moved to Salem after his wife committed suicide. Oh, and you can blame that on Isaac, too.”
The gears in her brain twisted like a clock. “How so?”
He pointed a finger at her. “Now, you can see why I’m not sad to see him go. My brother was a blight on society.”
