by Tegan Maher
I shrugged, unsure what to say. “I was just asking around about Fiona, if anyone had seen anything or anyone suspicious that day, or if they could think of anybody else who had reason to kill her.” I shrugged. “Just standard stuff to help clear Dee.”
The Sheriff raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should leave the investigating to the investigators.”
I nodded slowly. “Except that Dee seems to be your only suspect, and I don’t want to see her go to jail for something we all know she didn’t do.”
He sighed. “Toni, my department is working the whole town. Every angle. If there’s something to find, we’ll find it. So please, stop playing Nancy Drew, and leave the investigation to the professionals.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t want to promise something I had no intention of delivering on.
“Toni, I mean it,” he insisted, motioning toward my phone. “If you don’t, I’m afraid something is going to happen to you. Remember, you’re threatening somebody’s freedom—somebody who’s already proven they’re willing to commit murder.”
I took a deep breath. “Fine,” I grumbled.
He smiled as he reached across the bar and patted me on the shoulder. “Now was that so hard?”
I pursed my lips. “Yes.”
He chuckled. “Well consider it worth the effort, since the person who probably killed Fiona took time out of his—or her—busy day to send you a personal message.”
He took off his hat and rubbed the back of his neck. He was doing his best to walk the line between warning me and scaring me, but it was taking a toll. He glanced at Scout. “Can you make sure she gets home all right tonight? I’ll have Fiona’s phone pinged and see if we get lucky and find a location.”
When Scout nodded, he turned back to me. “In the meantime, leave the crime-solving to me and my people, and stop attracting unwanted attention to yourself. I don’t need two dead bodies.”
I nodded, willing to admit I was taking it seriously.
“You two have a good night. Or day, or whatever,” he said over his shoulder as he left.
I glanced at Scout as I grabbed my purse from behind the bar. “I’m ready to go if you are.” I shoved my phone in my back pocket and scowled a little, both mad and a little scared by the events of the night. “Thanks for volunteering to babysit me. And for coming down to check on me to begin with.”
Scout laughed. “The term babysitter is so ... juvenile, and besides, I think you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself under normal circumstances. I prefer bodyguard extraordinaire,” he said.
“Stop enjoying this,” I said, swatting him on the arm.
His face became serious. “I know you didn’t ask for this, and I’m sorry it’s your introduction to our town. It really is a nice place to live. It has its ghosts, but all towns do, especially ones that have been around for a while.”
I laughed to myself at his choice of words. If only he knew. “Ghosts?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “You know—skeletons in the closet. For instance, back in the Wild West days, we elected a bank robber to be mayor, though we didn’t realize it ‘til the US Marshals came and arrested him.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised to find I was a little disappointed over his un-supernatural explanation. Apparently, a small part of me had been hoping he knew about the real ghost living in town. My subconscious had had time to mull that situation over while I’d been doing busywork, and I had more questions than answers. If Maisie was around, surely she wasn’t the only one. Could she leave the house or was she bound there? Had she seen a light when she’d died? Did everybody see her, or could she pick and choose? She could obviously knock over trash cans and write in dust, so what else could she do?
“I’m not sure why, but you sound disappointed,” he said, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
I gave him a half smile and shook my head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me,” he said.
I held up my hand. “Maybe another time. For now, all I want to do is go home and crawl in bed.” It was the truth. I’d forgotten how physical bartending was, and my feet were killing me.
“Okay, but I’m gonna hold you to it.” The only two vehicles left in the lot were mine, and a 1970s truck the color of mashed peas. It had a white stripe streaked with rust running along both sides. I don’t know why, but I’d pictured him in some big, fancy newer truck. Somehow, though, that one fit him better.
He smiled, apparently guessing my thoughts. “It gets the job done,” he said, then shot a pointed look at my vehicle. “And I don’t have to worry about dinging it up out here.”
I realized he had a point as I climbed into mine and started it up. I constantly worried about dents and scratches in parking lots, even though it wasn’t the car I’d wanted. Despite its looks, Scout’s truck fired right up, and I pulled out, his headlights shining behind me.
Movement caught my eye as my headlights swung across the empty lot on the other side of the street, and I shivered, glad he’d been concerned enough to come see me home.
Chapter 21
I’D JUST FINISHED MY coffee the next morning and was enjoying some downtime on the porch swing, Bear snoozing at my feet, when the sheriff pulled in front of the cabin.
“Gabe,” I said, smiling, as he stepped out of his cruiser and approached the porch.
His face was solemn as he turned to me. “Toni.”
“Did you manage to find Fiona’s phone?” I asked, pushing to a standing position. Bear raised one lid to give me a sleepy look, but otherwise remained right where he was.
The sheriff nodded, but his expression was pained. “I didn’t find it yet, but I know where the text originated.”
“That’s great!” I exclaimed. “So Dee’s no longer a suspect? Whoever has Fiona’s phone probably took it after they killed her, right?”
He glanced at the front door and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “See, the thing is ...” He shook his head and handed me a piece of paper.
I opened it and frowned. “What’s this? Why do you need a search warrant for our place?”
“Because the phone pinged at this location,” he said, not quite meeting my eyes. “Well, to the tower just west of here, and you’re about the only people this way. Except for Scout, of course, but he was with you. So the tech guy used a locator service to see where the phone was last at. It gave this address, and the last time the service saw it was at 2:14 this morning. Here. Well, here or at the lodge.”
I shook my head. I didn’t understand exactly how that worked, though I had used a locator service when I’d lost my phone several months before and had a general idea. “That’s impossible. The signal out here is sketchy at best. There is no way you got an accurate ping. It must have been roaming or something.”
Gabe shrugged. “All I know is what the tech guy tells me, and he says Mercy Lodge is where the text originated. Therefore, it’s the likely location of the missing phone.”
I turned at the sound of tires crunching on rocks. Two other police vehicles pulled in, one a deputy for Mercy county, the other a deputy from the next county over. I frowned as I handed the warrant back. “A bit of overkill on the backup, don’t you think? It’s just Dee and me.”
Gabe nodded in acknowledgment to the two approaching deputies. “I brought the extra hands because this is a pretty big place, and searching for a phone on it is about like looking for a needle in a haystack. Unless you don’t mind me coming back daily over the next week or two, I’m sure you’ll be okay with two extra hands working the scene.”
I nodded grudgingly as I followed him up the steps and into the lodge, then I realized something. “Sheriff, hold up. Dee wasn’t even here last night. She was at Fiona’s all evening, going through her things.”
“By herself?” he asked, and I nodded, the weight settling back on my shoulders. She didn’t have an alibi after all.
“Can you say for sure she was gone the whole nig
ht? That she didn’t pop back out here for any reason?”
“Well, no, but ...”
He held up a hand as he went into the cabin. “Look, this is hard enough, so let’s just get it over with.”
Dee popped out of the laundry room carrying a basket of clothes. “I know neither of us is rich right now, but we should really think about getting a new dryer,” she said, juggling a load of sheets and blankets that were stacked above her eyes. “I have to run each load three times just to get them dry. Maybe I’ll check to see if there’s enough money in Fiona’s account to—” she snapped her mouth shut when she tossed the pile onto the check-in counter and noticed we had company.
I cringed, wishing she’d realized it just one sentence earlier.
She smiled at our uninvited guests. “Sheriff, Howie. And ... sorry, I don’t think I know you,” she said as she set down the basket and walked toward the out-of-town deputy, hand extended.
“Daniel, Ma’am,” he said, glancing at the sheriff before accepting her hand and shaking it.
“So what brings you all here?” she asked, glancing back and forth between the three of them.
The sheriff glanced around and took a deep breath. “We’re here looking for Fiona’s phone.”
I’d told her about the text I’d gotten the night before, and we’d both figured it was just a matter of time before she was cleared.
Dee’s eyes darted from the sheriff to the two deputies and back again. “But why would it be here?”
“Because apparently this is where they geo-located it to,” I replied, frowning.
“Why don’t you take that room,” Gabe said to Daniel, indicating the living room. “You take the kitchen,” he told Howie, “and I’ll search the bedrooms.”
“This is ridiculous,” I muttered.
“Just make sure you stay visible, and please, stay out of the way,” he said as he headed toward Dee’s room.
I glared at his back. “Fine,” I grumbled. I plopped down on the couch and Dee followed suit.
She shook her head, her gaze following the deputy as he dug through the cushions on the chair and pulled out books from the case to look behind them. “This has to be some kind of mistake, right?”
I nodded. “I don’t see how they could get a ping on a phone that isn’t here. Hell, I don’t even think they could get a ping from the phones that are here.”
Dee leaned her head on my shoulder. “I don’t know about that. There are a few places in the lodge where the signal isn’t too bad.”
I shifted my head so I could see the top of hers. “Really? I thought this whole place was a technology-sucking black hole.”
Dee chuckled. “No. A lot of the second-story rooms have anywhere from two to three bars of signal, and the backyard isn’t bad most of the time, either. It’s just inside the cabin and the lower level of the lodge that either have none or only a partial bar if you’re lucky. The lodge attic is amazing. I can get full signal up there, and it’s gonna make an amazing extra room, too, if you decide to finish it.”
We moved from the couch to the kitchen so the other guy could check the cushions. I’d just refilled my coffee when the Sheriff came in carrying a phone in a clear plastic bag clutched in his hand.
“Whose room is on the right?” he asked.
Dee raised her hand. “Mine.”
“I found this tucked underneath the clothes in the top dresser drawer,” he said, showing her the phone.
Dee frowned. “That’s Fiona’s, but I don’t know how it could have gotten there.”
Howie popped into the kitchen, and the sheriff nodded towards Dee. “We need to take her in. Could you Mirandize her and take her to the station?”
Howie nodded as he walked to Dee. “I’m really sorry about this, Dee,” he said as he helped her up, turned her around, and cuffed her hands behind her back.
He read her her rights as I rushed over to the Sheriff. “Look, you know she didn’t do this.” I gestured toward Dee. “Why would she send me a threatening text when I was trying to find information that would clear her name?”
The sheriff looked sympathetic but determined. “All I know is I found Fiona’s missing phone in Dee’s dresser. That she is the sole beneficiary to Fiona’s estate. And that she was discovered standing over the victim with the murder weapon. Not to mention, the only prints on said murder weapon were Fiona’s and Dee’s, and I’m betting those are the only fingerprints I’m going to find on the phone as well.”
“Well then somebody is setting Dee up.”
Gabe shook his head. “Who? Give me a name. Believe me—the last thing I want is for Dee to be the killer.”
My brain searched for anything to put doubt in the sheriff’s mind. “What about the necklace? Did you find Fiona’s missing necklace? The killer would probably have that since it was missing from her neck, right?”
“Yeah,” Dee said. “I went through her house last night. It’s not there.”
Gabe shook his head. “Surely you can see how I can’t exactly take your word for that, right? Even assuming you’re telling the truth, maybe she lost it before she was murdered.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Right now I have enough evidence to take you into custody.” His gaze softened. “I don’t want to do this any more than you do, but I can’t deny the evidence.”
I watched as Howie led Dee out of the lodge, Daniel and Gabe following close behind.
I scrambled after them. “Bail!”
“What?” The sheriff turned to face me.
I gestured weakly at Dee, who was being guided into the back of the Sheriff’s car. “She’s not a flight risk, so when can I come and bail her out?”
The Sheriff glanced at Dee. “The judge should set bail tomorrow morning, but given the seriousness of the crime, it’s probably going to be high.”
I chewed on my lip as I watched him climb into his car and drive off, the other two vehicles right behind him.
I glanced at Bear, who was sniffing around the tree line. Gabe was probably right. I was financially tapped out. How was I ever going to come up with the kind of cash it was going to take to bail out a murder suspect?
Chapter 22
THE NEXT DAY, I WOKE up early and got ready so I could go to the jail and at least see Dee. I doubted there was any way I could come up with the money necessary to bail her out, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t go and keep her company for a while and maybe offer her some moral support.
I patted Bear on the head as I walked by the couch to grab my purse off the coffee table, then turned and headed outside. I stopped when I saw Scout’s old truck parked behind my SUV.
He was sitting in the driver’s seat with the window open. “Hop in,” he called.
I shook my head. “I have to get to the jail.”
He nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m here. I thought I’d give you a ride.”
I frowned as I walked around my vehicle and to his passenger side door, opening it and climbing in. “How can you know already? This just happened and you live even farther out in the boondocks than I do.”
He chuckled. “Have you already forgotten our conversation from last night? About the joys of a small town?”
I snorted. “I don’t think that qualifies as a joy. Isn’t there any privacy at all?”
Scout backed out of the space he had been occupying and drove up the roadway past the lodge. “Nope. And the juicier the gossip, the faster it travels. Telephone, telegraph, tell a friend. Or neighbor, or the person standing beside you at the store. I guess it’s a symptom of chronic boredom and everyone knowing everyone else.” He shrugged. “After a while, you get used to it. You might not ever like it, but you accept it’s just the way a lot of people are.”
I shook my head. “Then what did you hear? Let’s make sure you got the straight dirt.”
“Just that Gabe found the phone in Dee’s dresser and arrested her.”
“That sums it up,” I said. “At least the party line’s working right.”
“They’re usually pretty good at keepin’ it straight.” He fidgeted with the radio as he pulled onto the main road. “I really need to get the tape player fixed,” he grumbled.
I glanced at his radio and laughed. “Tape player? Do they even still make tapes?”
Scout glanced at me sideways and smiled. “No, but I have tons, so I have no use for a CD player. Besides,” he said, sweeping his hand around the cab of the truck, “A CD player would mess up the vintage vibe.”
I laughed. “Well, we can’t have that.”
We made idle chitchat on our way to town, and I shot him a questioning look when he pulled into a bakery parking lot.
“What are we doing?” I asked. “I need to get to Dee.”
He shook his head. “The judge won’t be in for another half hour, so we may as well get something to eat.”
The shop, cleverly named Knead for Sweets, had a cheerful pink-and-white striped awning, and several people were sitting in window seats inside. The luscious scents of cinnamon, coffee, and baking bread assailed us when we pushed into the kitschy shop, and my mouth watered.
“What’s good?” I asked him as we stepped forward toward the counter.
“My personal favorite is the cinnamon roll, but the cranberry-orange muffins are good, too.”
I decided to go for the muffin. Once we were settled at a table with our goodies and coffee, I took a closer look at the place. It was cute, but the prices were a little over the top, more in line with what I’d expect at a high-end place in one of the wealthy burbs around Orlando, rather than a little shop in the middle of nowhere. Of course, if the product was good, it was worth it anywhere, I supposed.
I bit into my muffin. The flavor was fantastic, but Naomi had been right—it was so dry I had to wash it down with coffee. I hoped I just got a bad one, but when I chanced a glance at Scout’s cinnamon roll, it looked dry, too.
“How’s your muffin?” I asked.
“Not bad,” he replied after taking a sip of his own brew.
