Dep turned her head away from the woman.
The woman laughed. “After you, of course.”
Dep looked up at the woman’s face. “Meow.”
We laughed, but our laughter ended when the woman pointed out a strip of flattened grass between the street and the sidewalk. “The grass will straighten up,” she assured us, “but you three could have been badly injured or worse.” She clasped my wrist. Her hand was bony and her skin felt paper-thin, but her grip was strong. “I’m glad you weren’t. But if you run into any more trouble around here, you just come pound on my door.”
I thanked her and promised to ask for help if I ever needed it. I wanted to hug her, but my arms were full of a purring fur ball. Also, my eyes felt suddenly wet. Nina gave her a hug.
The woman peered more closely at me. “You live in that cute two-story yellow brick cottage up the street, don’t you? With the walled garden and the red kayak on the red car?”
“Yes.” Naturally, a woman who knew about the reading and wine-drinking habits of the man behind tangled vines across the street would know more about me than I knew about her. She probably also knew that I was a detective’s widow. It wasn’t a secret, but people seldom mentioned it to me. I was no longer as fragile as I’d once been and was probably less fragile than people thought I was.
She promised, “I’ll ask around. Maybe another neighbor saw or heard something.”
I thanked her again, and we headed home to the yellow brick cottage with its own share of whimsical gingerbread trim, painted a lovely, fresh cream.
After we were securely locked inside and Dep was freed from her harness and leash, I told Nina, “I’m calling Brent in case that driver has anything to do with the mime’s death.”
“I don’t see how that could be, but who am I to stop you from calling your handsome detective?”
Grumbling that he wasn’t mine and was probably dining with DCI Agent Kimberly Gartborg that very minute, I speed-dialed Brent’s personal line. It went to message. “Nina and I have something to tell you,” I said into the phone.
“Right,” Nina muttered, “we.”
I put my phone into my pocket. “No answer. He probably really is on a date with her.” Seeing pity in Nina’s eyes, I added quickly, “She’s welcome to him.”
“Sure, sure.”
Nina cooked rice and made a salad in the kitchen and I grilled the marinated pork tenderloin outside with Dep playing nearby. As the woman with the pruning shears had mentioned, my rear yard was completely walled in. The wall had been constructed with smooth yellow bricks. When Dep was a kitten, she got stuck high on a tree trunk, didn’t know how to back down, ended up in a humiliating position, and stopped climbing trees. Until this evening, she’d avoided bushes, too. I turned away from the fragrant meat. “Dep, after you jumped onto that hedge today, are you still safe from climbing into bushes and jumping to the top of the wall?”
She stared down at a worm or a bug. Swishing her tail back and forth in the grass, she ignored me.
“Good thing I keep everything pruned far from the wall,” I muttered.
We ate outside. The evening was warm. The earlier haze became a pinkish softness in the sky, with breezes caressing our faces. I took our dishes inside and put a kettle on for tea. Nina stayed outside with Dep.
I checked my phone in case I’d missed Brent’s return call. I hadn’t, but there was a headline: Deceased Mime Identified. I opened the article. The mime’s name was Zipporah Melwyn, also known as Zippy. She was thirty-one, and she was from Lapeer, Michigan.
I went outside. “Hey Nina, guess what?”
Nina dragged a string with a bright red pompom attached to it through the grass. “What?”
I showed her my phone. Dep subdued the pompom.
Nina studied the screen and then tugged at the string again. “I guess they notified the mime’s next of kin. Get it, Dep!”
“Zipporah Melwyn. With a name like that, she should be, I mean she should have been, a movie star.”
“Or Zippy, the vandalizing thief. She sure was zippy when she was running away from me at the carnival. Sorry, Emily, but I’m finding it hard to forgive her for causing so much trouble.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. Nina didn’t need to be reminded of the horror of the previous evening. Still, I couldn’t help reminding her, “She could have been an innocent victim of someone else.”
Nina ran with the string. Dep chased the pompom. “She got into my apartment somehow. Someone could have carried her in against her will, but . . .”
“It doesn’t seem likely. Maybe someone broke in, pretended they lived there, and invited her in.”
“That’s creepy.”
“Sorry,” I said. “Maybe the police will let you go back soon, and you can finish that painting.”
“I hope so, even though you’re trying to scare me away from it.” She was obviously exaggerating to punish me for my creepy theories.
Dep raised her cute little bottom high and wiggled it. She pounced on the pompom again. “There’s a funny coincidence,” I told Nina. “Zipporah Melwyn was from Lapeer, Michigan. Lapeer, spelled the same as your last name.”
“That is a funny-strange coincidence, but the name isn’t unusual.”
“Could your ancestors have founded Lapeer?” I was picturing the man whose photo was in her locket.
“No. As far as I know, none of them ever visited the place. I’ve never been there.”
“Do you know any other Lapeers besides your family?” I wasn’t trying to interrogate her. I was merely interested. She never talked about her family. I didn’t think she had siblings. Jocelyn and I didn’t. Alec had been an only child, too.
Nina lifted her head as if listening. “What do I hear?”
“Oops! The teakettle.”
“Something else, too. Your doorbell?”
She was right. I ran toward the house. “Maybe it’s Brent.”
“I’ll stay here with Dep to give you two some alone time.”
I stuck out my tongue. In the kitchen, I turned off the gas underneath the teakettle.
I was halfway through the dining room when the doorbell rang again. Still fearful for Nina’s—and my—life after that car had nearly rammed us, I set my feet down quietly to keep whoever was on my porch from detecting that someone inside was approaching the door. Tentatively, I peeked out the peephole.
Misty and Hooligan, both in their Fallingbrook police uniforms, were on the front porch. I loved them both, but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed that Brent had sent them to hear my story instead of coming himself or returning my call.
I flung the door open. “I’m glad you’re—” And then I noticed the sad and apologetic look on Misty’s face, and I couldn’t finish my sentence.
“We’d like to talk to Nina Lapeer.” Misty’s voice was quiet, but full of steely determination.
Chapter 12
“Nina’s outside with Dep,” I told Misty and Hooligan, stern and businesslike in their police uniforms. “Would you like me to get her?”
“Yes, please.” Misty was as formal as I had suddenly become. She looked miserable.
Hooligan shot me an empathetic glance. Both he and Misty knew Nina from their breaks in Deputy Donut, and they liked her. Everyone did, except for the person, if there was one, who was trying to kill her. And maybe Wisconsin DCI Agent Kimberly Gartborg.
I invited Misty and Hooligan in and went back to my walled-in garden. Shade cast by the western side of the wall had crept over more of the grass, and Dep must have lost interest in chasing a pompom. Nina was sitting in one of my patio chairs with Dep purring on her lap.
“Nina?” I said.
She looked up.
“Misty and Hooligan would like to talk to you.”
She studied my face for a moment and looked away. She took a deep breath. Shoulders tense, she walked to me. She didn’t meet my gaze as she lowered Dep into my hands. She turned and headed toward the living r
oom.
Whatever was going on, I didn’t want her to face it without a friend. Two friends, counting Dep. With the warm cat nestled in my arms, I followed Nina.
Misty and Hooligan had barely moved from the front door. Her back to me, Nina faced them. She stood stiffly with her hands at her sides and her fingers straight.
Misty acknowledged me with barely a flicker of her eyes and then said in a gentle but firm voice, “I’m sorry, Nina, but we’ll have to place you under arrest for the murder of Zipporah Melwyn and ask you to come with us.”
I croaked, “That’s impossible. Someone tried to run Nina down today. Someone else killed the mime and is trying to kill Nina.” I knew my guesses were wild. I added, “I called Brent and left him a message. I thought he sent you to take our statements. About . . . about nearly being hit by a car.”
Misty’s lovely face became even grimmer. “Brent’s been occupied tying up loose ends.”
I felt my mouth twist in shock and pain. Loose ends? I forced out an offer that seemed outlandish to me, knowing Nina as well as I did. “I’ll talk to Tom about finding you a lawyer, Nina.”
She raised her head and stated firmly, “I can’t afford one.”
I promised, “Tom will know what to do. Where’s your purse, Nina?”
“On your guest room bed.”
I asked Misty, “Is it okay if I get it?”
“Sure. No rush.”
I ran up the stairs, picked up the tote bag, and trotted back down.
Nina’s hands were behind her back, and Hooligan was apologizing as he fastened handcuffs around her wrists. Nina didn’t show signs of resisting, but I wanted to scream at my friends not to cuff her. I knew it was procedure, however, and no amount of arguing could change that. My mouth in a grim line, I handed Nina’s purse to Misty.
Nina seemed as wooden as the door she was staring at. “Bye, Emily, and thanks for everything. Bye, Dep.”
I’d carried Dep upstairs and down again without noticing. Certain that the police would realize their mistake and release Nina quickly, I told her, “If you come back after I go to bed, keep ringing the doorbell until I wake up and let you in.”
Nina only nodded. It seemed like she had given up and expected to be convicted.
Not if I could help it.
Deep sadness shone from Misty’s Scandinavian-blue eyes. “Emily, Brent said he’ll come talk to you later.”
Hooligan opened the door. I watched until he and Misty helped Nina into the back of a cruiser.
I closed the door. If Dep hadn’t been in my arms, I might have been tempted to pound my fists on walls and furniture. Dep wasn’t purring. Maybe she hadn’t heard the part about Brent coming over. Or maybe she blamed Brent for depriving her of Nina’s attention and was no more eager to see him than I was at the moment. I’d left my phone outside. I got it, brought it into the kitchen, called Tom, and poured out the details of Nina’s arrest.
“I know just the guy to handle this,” he told me. “He’s an excellent lawyer. Nina’s my employee as much as yours. Let me take care of it, okay?”
“Okay, but we’ll split the cost. And there’s one more thing, Tom. You know how I guessed that Nina was supposed to be last night’s victim? This afternoon on our way home from work, a speeding car came up onto the sidewalk and almost hit her. The driver kept going, but I wonder if, now that the deceased’s name has been released, the murderer realized he’d failed to kill Nina yesterday, so he tried again today.”
There was silence on Tom’s end of the line. “Were you almost hit, too?”
“I was farther from the car. Dep noticed it first and leaped out of the way. None of us were hurt.”
Tom sighed. “I’m glad.” He was quiet again for a second, and then he stated, “So she wasn’t necessarily safer with you.”
“Or with anyone, not if this guy is as determined as he seems.”
“Guy? Did you see him?”
“No, only the top of a pale-colored baseball cap. Guy or whoever. The car was gray, and we both thought it had Wisconsin plates.” I told him the numbers we thought we’d seen.
He suggested, “Nina might be safer in police custody.”
My mouth went dry. “Maybe, but only if they catch the real murderer, and Nina doesn’t end up spending most of the rest of her life in prison.” Fortunately, Wisconsin didn’t have the death penalty.
Tom promised, “I’ll do whatever I can. See you at work tomorrow?”
“Definitely. We’ll manage without her if we have to. I talked to a job applicant today, but I didn’t think she had the right personality. She seemed too shy and introverted.”
“People like you and Nina and Jocelyn aren’t easy to find.”
“And you!”
“Ha.” He disconnected.
I wandered into the living room and sat on the couch. I didn’t try to read. I knew I wouldn’t pay attention to the words. Outside, the sun set. Dusk arrived, and then twilight. Despite the purring cat on my lap, I sat wrapped in misery for my friend, her talent, her enthusiasm, and the joy that had just been dashed from her life. It became fully dark outside. I didn’t move. I didn’t turn on lights.
On the street, a car door closed. Dep jumped down and padded to the door. Someone climbed my porch steps, slowly and quietly.
Nina, back already, and it had all been a terrible mistake?
I checked the peephole. I’d neglected to turn on the porch light, but I recognized Brent’s silhouette against the dimly lit street. I opened the door.
As if afraid of disturbing someone, he walked in softly. “I wasn’t sure you were still up.” He didn’t make a move toward one of our usual hugs.
I didn’t, either. I led him inside. “Sorry, I didn’t turn on lights.” I switched on the lamp near the wing chair where he often sat. “Have a seat. Can I get you something?”
He sat down, leaned forward, and rubbed his forehead with both hands. “No, thanks.”
“A glass of water?”
“I’m good.” He was also being unnaturally formal.
Hiding a sigh, I plunked onto my spot on the couch and sat far enough forward to place my feet flat on the floor. I held my palms together in my lap. Every muscle in my body felt tightly coiled.
Brent straightened. Those usually lively gray eyes had become dark with fatigue. Dep jumped into his lap. He eased his fingers into her fur. After a few seconds, he said softly, “I’m sorry, Em.”
I might as well say it. “Nina didn’t kill anyone.”
“Why are you sure?”
I didn’t have a good answer. I wished I could say I was with her from the time we left the carnival, and that we’d gone up to Nina’s apartment together and found Zipporah Melwyn. Even if I wanted to lie, which I didn’t, Brent would see through me. “She just wouldn’t, that’s all. She’s worked for us for almost a year. I know her pretty well.”
“We often think we know people well when we don’t.”
The backs of my eyes heated. I bit my lip. I would not cry. “Someone tried to kill her yesterday but killed the mime instead. Someone tried to kill her today. That’s why I called you.”
“Misty mentioned that.” He had me describe the car and where we’d been. Dep was sitting squarely on Brent’s lap, making it difficult for him to write in his notebook, but he managed by balancing the notebook on the wide arm of the wing chair. He finished writing and told me, “I’m glad no one was hurt, and I understand how you can believe that someone is trying to kill Nina. But there are facts. Someone attempted to kill Zipporah—apparently, everyone knew her as Zippy—Melwyn. You entered the apartment and tried to save her. Nina came in.”
“But someone broke into Nina’s loft and then broke out through the screen.”
“Probably.” He paged back in his notebook. With the only light in the room shining down on him, he looked like he was the one being interrogated. “Nina’s footprints were in the sugar and her shoes made partial prints out to her balcony and back.”
“I saw her step in the sugar and then go out to her balcony and return. And I’d seen the floor before she went out. There were no footprints there until I saw her make them.”
His eyes seemed to pierce my brain and my heart. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. You believe me, don’t you?” I didn’t know what I would do if this good friend believed I would lie to him.
He said gently, “Of course I do.”
“You might as well suspect me. I was first on the scene. As you said, Nina found me there, alone with the victim.”
“You called me a few minutes before that, concerned that the victim might be injured and inside her car.”
“That could have been a ploy.”
He stared at me as if asking why I was trying to make myself into a possible suspect. Maybe he thought I was testing his friendship and the belief that I hoped he held, the belief that I couldn’t be a murderer. But as he’d said, we sometimes think we know people well when we don’t.
I mumbled, “It could have been a ploy, but it wasn’t.”
“Other evidence points to Nina.”
I shook my head, and whispered, “No.”
Running his index finger down notebook pages, he summarized what he’d learned. “Zippy Melwyn was seen around the corner from Nina’s apartment. Melwyn was dressed like Nina and carrying a white bucket labeled PAINT. The direction she was heading could have led to Nina’s apartment. It appears that Melwyn broke in through the street door and then the loft door, climbed Nina’s new ladder, and threw sugar onto Nina’s painting. We believe that Nina came home, found Melwyn trying to ruin the painting that was to be the centerpiece of Nina’s show, and lost her temper. She toppled Melwyn off the ladder, injuring both of Melwyn’s wrists and one of her ankles. Nina was so angry that she dragged Melwyn out of sight of the apartment door, put the bucket of sugar over Melwyn’s head and held it there, and Melwyn couldn’t fight back. Then Nina heard you on the stairs and broke her way out through her screen.”
I held up a hand to stop him. “Nina wouldn’t have dragged Zippy Melwyn out of sight of her door. She wouldn’t have been expecting anyone to come in.”
Beyond a Reasonable Donut Page 10
