Bound to Execute

by ACF Bookens

  As someone who had lived through a fair number of heartbreaks herself, I had learned that what the “dumpee” wants most of all is a reason, something that makes perfect sense, that frees them from some sense of failure or inadequacy and puts the blame squarely on the dumper. I did my best to both give Cynthia what she wanted and be truthful. “Because he’s a total jerk, Cynthia.”

  She looked up at me without lifting her chin out of her hands. “You think so?”

  “Yep, I do. No guy worth his stuff would treat you this way. Not ever. You understand? This isn’t about you at all.” That part was a tiny lie, but not in the most real sense. In the most real sense, Dillard was an idiot, and an uncaring one at that.

  I looked up and saw Daniel standing across the street with Taco, and when he saw me notice him, he walked his fingers to tell me he was going to go up the block and come back. I gave him a small smile of thanks and returned my attention to Cynthia.

  Her sobs were slowing now, and I hoped I had been able to help a little. But the truth was, she was possibly a murderer, and I didn’t really want to spend a lot of time alone with her, just in case. It didn’t seem likely that she could have possibly strangled anyone, not if a break up sent her sobbing to someone she barely knew. But I’d seen stranger behavior in my lifetime.

  I stood and gently pulled her up with me before slipping an arm around her shoulder and steering her toward the front door. “This sucks, Cynthia. I’m so sorry.”

  She let out a hard breath and said, “Yeah, it does.” But then she turned to me and said, “But you’re okay single, and you’re way older than me.” She squared her shoulders. “If you’re okay, I can be, too.”

  I chose to ignore the “way older” part and didn’t point out that technically I wasn’t single-single and cheered her on. “Now there’s the spirit,” I said and immediately felt like one of those matronly housekeeper types from the British murder mysteries.

  At the front door, she turned and said, “Thank you, Harvey.”

  As soon as she was down the block a bit, Daniel and Taco popped in, and I went to set the alarm and lock the front door. I was ready to go home for the night. It must have been my advanced age, but I was ready for another early bed time.

  * * *

  The next morning, I rushed into the shop early, having remembered my deposit sitting in the safe from the night before. Cynthia’s arrival had distracted me, and now that I’d put the money into the proper form and removed it from our cash account books, I didn’t want to delay in getting that deposit into the bank.

  At nine, as soon as the bank opened, I scooted into the lobby, went to Cynthia’s window, gave her a wink, and handed her my deposit bag. She smiled at me warmly, prepared the deposit, and gave me my receipt.

  “How are you doing?” I whispered before I left.

  “Better. Chubby Hubby Ice Cream always helps,” she said with a small smile.

  I laughed. “Yes, yes it does.” I looked at her closely, and while she still had the sort of forlorn, wary expression of the recently rejected, she did look better, and that made me happy. “You know where to find me if you need a reminder about the jerks of the world.”

  She laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Harvey.”

  I walked out of the bank at almost a skip, glad to have the deposit off my mind, relieved that Cynthia seemed much improved, and eager to make good use of this extra bit of time in the store alone. I untied Mayhem from the tree out front and was admiring the window boxes on our faux window mural as I walked up to the shop. Then, I walked right into the chest of a man approaching, dropping everything in my hands.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said as I bent to pick up my things, and when I looked up, I saw it was Deputy Dillard standing over me. I had the impulse to accidentally knee him somewhere sensitive as I stood, but I restrained myself. “Ah, deputy. I didn’t see you there.”

  He bent to help me pick up my purse and gave Mayhem’s ears a good scratch before standing again. “You seem chipper,” he said.

  I sighed. Neighborliness sometimes was required even when one wasn’t feeling neighborly. “I guess I am. Thanks. And you?”

  He shrugged. “Pretty good, actually.”

  I wanted to knee him again, but decided, instead, to smile. “Have a good day then.” I moved toward the store, hoping to avoid further conversation, but he caught me.

  “Harvey, I just wanted to say that I thought you did a great job with the Henri Johnson ploy. You really had the town believing she was guilty.”

  I turned back toward him. “That’s kind of you to say, but I did realize through that whole rigamarole that lying is not my forte.”

  He smiled. “Mine neither. It’s a good quality, I think.”

  I forced another smile onto my face. “Well, I’m off to work. Have a good day, Deputy.”

  “Please call me Chad.”

  “Have a good day, Chad.” I never had liked the name Chad very much.

  * * *

  Flower sales were swift again that day, and Elle came by mid-morning to say that she was glad we hadn’t gone on another few days or she would have been hard-pressed to get us the stems we needed. “As it is now, you have bought all my usual surplus, so I’m going to put in extra tomatoes this year. Use the money to buy some organic starts. Boost my produce sales a bit.”

  “You know, you could just use the extra money and take a vacation or buy yourself a great pair of shoes or something.”

  She doubled over with laughter. “Farmers don’t get vacations, Harvey. And these,” she held up one foot adorned in a bright blue pair of mud-caked boots, “these are the only shoes I need.

  I looked down at my well-worn Birkenstock clogs that I swapped out with Birkenstock sandals in the summer and smiled. “These are the booksellers’ version.”

  Elle smiled. “Ah, I thought it was Danskos.”

  I grinned. “That’s the pure East Coast version. I have just enough West Coast in me to go Birk.”

  I looked over at the buckets of sweet peas and tulips that she’d brought in. All that water made them really heavy. “As long as there’s arch support,” I said. “Farmers and booksellers both need that.”

  “Hear! Hear!” Elle said. “I’ll be back in a bit. I’m on delivery duty today.”

  I waved as she headed out and passed Marcus on the way. He dropped his backpack by the register and held up a massive book. “Ah, you finished it,” I said with a smile.

  “Stayed up half the night. You could have warned me.”

  “And why would I do that?” I winked as I picked up his copy of The Goldfinch and thumbed the pages. “What hooked you?”

  We launched into a discussion of Tartt’s masterful novel and continued talking about it between customer requests and flower sales. As usual, he was swayed more by the language, and I found the characters and structure the most compelling aspects. But in the end, we both agreed it was one of the best books we’d read in a long time.

  Mom, Ariel, Elle, and Daniel came in about eleven-thirty, attached the notes to the flower stems, and headed out for deliveries. Daniel was a brave man and leashed up Mayhem and Taco for the walk, which I appreciated because Mom and Dad had brought their dog, Sidecar, who I thought needed a little special attention. Well, actually, I just wanted some snuggle time with that cute guy, and Mayhem, while willing to share me a little, was not too keen on me getting too friendly with any other dog, Taco excepted. She knew that long, low pooch had his own person, so she didn’t get jealous. Sidecar, however, was another story.

  The weather was perfect – seventy-two and sunny, and I wanted a little fresh air. So the fuzzy pup and I headed out the back door of the shop for a quick stroll up the alley. I was eager to ponder a plan I had to put some landscaping in back here, if the other shop owners agreed, to make it a little more picturesque and maybe even make some employee parking spaces.

  Sidecar and I were strolling along, me envisioning and him peeing, when movement just ahead caugh
t my eye. Our dumpsters were all back here – something I’d have to consider in my landscape plan – so at first, I thought I’d just caught sight of someone tossing a trash bag. But then I looked more closely and saw that two people were walking away from us along the tree line that ran the length of the alley.

  I hurried Sidecar along as I squinted to see who was there and gasped. I didn’t want to risk them seeing me hurrying back along the alley if they turned around, so I took out my phone and pretended to have a loud, laughing conversation while I walked. I put the phone to my right ear so that my head naturally turned back toward the Main Street buildings and kept walking. Sidecar was no dummy and followed my lead, tugging me on ahead and slightly to the left as we passed Dillard and Cynthia walking with hands entwined.

  9

  I kept up my fake phone call for another block, until the alley ended, and then turned the corner back to Main Street before dialing the sheriff’s cell. “I don’t know how to tell you this . . .”

  He was at the shop in five minutes, and while he was livid, this time he didn’t storm out for a confrontation. I knew that part of the reason was because he didn’t want to involve me, and since I had been clearly visible to Cynthia and Chad, ugh, I hated that name, as I walked away, they would know immediately who ratted them out. But he also had other reasons.

  “Harvey, I’m going to need your help again,” he said with obvious reluctance.

  “Don’t sound so excited, Tuck.” I tried to make light of a tense moment, but it didn’t work. He just stared at me, his mouth a flat line. “Okay, what do you need me to do?”

  “Three things. First, I need you to keep doing what you are doing – tell me if you see Cynthia or Cynthia and Dillard at all.”

  “Okay, got it. Easy enough. Secondly?”

  “I need you to work on Cynthia a little for me, see if she’ll open up to you more about what happened with the co-op’s accounts.”

  “You want me to see if she’ll admit to stealing the money?” I felt a flush of excitement at the prospect.

  The sheriff sighed. “Yes, if you can get her that far. But even if she’ll just give you a bit more information about who had access to the accounts, who had reason to steal – that kind of thing.”

  “Alright. And third?”

  “I need you to see if Ariel will help.” He frowned even as he asked. “I don’t like involving civilians, and I particularly don’t like involving civilians I don’t know very well.”

  I chuckled. “Civilians. Now who sounds like a TV cop?”

  He gave me a small smile. “You know what I mean. It’s like it’s once removed to have Ariel involved, but I think I need her.” He winced a little when he said it.

  “Because she knows things?”

  “Right. And she’s not compromised by Dillard.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Harvey. I’m afraid I’m having to ask you to do his job.”

  I crinkled my nose. “Yeah, I guess he can’t really be trusted, huh?”

  “No, he can’t. But until I figure out exactly what’s going on there – poor judgment or something more ugly – I can’t let him know I know he’s now disobeying a direct order for the third time.”

  “Understood,” I said. I looked out at the street and saw Ariel walk by with her much-smaller armload of flowers. “Here’s a question, though. Isn’t Ariel still a suspect for the robbery?”

  “Technically, yes. But I don’t think she did either thing – steal from the co-op or murder Wilma. If she’d been able to steal that kind of money for that long, surely she would have stolen enough to get herself an apartment.”

  I nodded. That made sense. “Plus, she hasn’t been there long enough. She’s been there three months, but the co-op is behind on the mortgage four months.”

  “And she just had too much to risk by killing Wilma. A new manager could have meant all new patterns that would have put her ability to stay in the attic in danger.”

  I let out a long breath. “I’m with you. I’ll see what she might know. It’s okay if I tell her you asked me to talk to her?”

  He nodded. “If you need to, yes. But try to work by sharing as little information as possible.”

  “Check.” I tilted my head and smiled.

  “And don’t tell her about Dillard and Cynthia,” he added.

  “Okay, but I suspect she knows they’re dating . . . or whatever they’re doing. She and Cynthia are friends.”

  He squeezed his forehead. “Okay, well, she can’t know that I’ve ordered Dillard to stay away.”

  “Got it.” I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “It’ll be okay, Tuck. Go rest. I’ll be your informal deputy, and just think, you don’t even have to pay me.”

  He chuckled a little. “That is a bonus.”

  * * *

  The final hours of the flower sale were a frenzy with dozens of people coming in to buy up stems. Some people even came back for their second purchase, so happy with the way the first gifts had made them feel that they wanted to buy more flowers for more people. It was like a wonderfully scented wave of good will in the store, and I wanted to ride that wave.

  Sadly, at five-thirty, just before his dinner rush, Max Davies came in. I tried to duck into the café and hide behind Rocky’s counter, but he saw me and came over. “I’m here to buy a dozen flowers, red roses if you have them.”

  I physically restrained a groan while saying, “We can’t allow you to pick the type of flower, Max. Sorry. Sale policy.”

  Rocky kicked me in the shin as she grinned like she was the cat who ate the canary. I kicked her back.

  “Well, then, I hope you will pick your favorite flowers to give yourself.” He didn’t even have the chagrin to blush or look shy when he said that.

  “Marcus will sell you the flowers, Max.” Rocky said, as she kicked me again. “Thank you.”

  Then, Max winked, and I couldn’t hold back the groan any longer. Fortunately, Rocky happened to turn on the milk steamer at just that moment, and Max didn’t hear. He headed to the register to make his purchase.

  “Rocky Chevalier, quit kicking me,” I said as I tried to disappear into the bakery case both so that Max couldn’t talk to me anymore and so I could eat all the breaded things of comfort I could find.

  “He is unbelievable, Harvey. He knows about Daniel, right?” Rocky asked while forming a perfect steamed milk heart in my mug.

  “Yes, of course he knows. Even the fire hydrants in this town know everything the minute it happens. He just doesn’t care.”

  She grinned as she watched him hand Marcus his cash and then smile over at me. “I’ll say. He is determined.”

  “Well, I wish he’d determine his way to someone else. Oh, he makes me so mad.” I felt heat on the tips of my ears.

  “Strong feelings, Harvey. Sounds like he’s getting the rise he wants.”

  “Ugh.” I kicked her again before I headed back to the register now that Max was safely gone.

  Marcus smiled as I walked over. “Don’t even start,” I said. “Rocky has teased me enough for the both of you.”

  “Oh, but Rocky doesn’t know that Max slipped an extra forty dollars into the sale if I promised to do my best and get you red roses.” His smile reached both of his ears.

  I dropped my head back on my shoulders. “Tell me you didn’t agree.”

  “Oh, I agreed. Told him that I’d look at the flowers myself in the morning and pick the best ones for you.”

  I collapsed onto the stool. “You are no help.”

  “Customer service, Ms. B., Customer service.” He laughed as he headed out to tidy up the floor.

  I gazed longingly at the pastry case again.

  * * *

  That night, we had all planned to gather at our house to tally the fundraising results and make plans for distribution of the last day’s flowers. Mom had gone to all the merchants and gathered the cash and sales totals, and she and Dad were counting bills and running numbers at my kitchen counter when Daniel and
I arrived.

  Lu and Tuck were bringing dinner for everyone, and Ariel and Mart had gone to get wine and soda for the evening. Soon, Stephen and Walter arrived with Ollie, who had been, apparently, working on a new piece that he was, sort of humorously, sort of hush hush about. Henri and Bear showed up soon after and sent Pickle’s regards. Apparently, he and his wife had date night every Wednesday. “Haven’t missed a night in twenty-seven years,” Henri said, and I found myself imagining Daniel and me in twenty-seven years. I liked the vision.

  Rocky and Marcus came over after closing up the store and café, and Elle wandered in wearing muddy overalls and smelling of tomato vines just as the Masons came with supper. Enchiladas, beans and rice, and fried plaintains. I almost swooned when Cate and Lucas arrived with cupcakes, too. Ariel and Mart returned with a case of wine and another of soda, and the party was complete.

  We all made ourselves plates and found seats in the living room while we waited for Mom and Dad to finish tallying. I hoped that the delay meant we had huge figures and not some discrepancy in someone’s record keeping. But when I saw Mom’s face as she came in, I knew that it was the former.

  “Folks,” she said with tears in her eyes, “we raised $13,815.” The tears slid down her cheeks.

  I looked over at Ariel, and she had her hands over her mouth as tears pooled on her lashes. I found myself teary, too, and as I looked around the room, the silence of awe settled in with my tearful glances.

  “To an end to homelessness,” Walter said as he raised a glass into the air.

  “An end to homelessness,” everyone said and then we cheered for ourselves.

  The food tasted especially good after that, and we all enjoyed seconds and even some thirds. It felt good to celebrate in this quiet way with good friends, no fanfare, no public announcement, just an awareness that we had helped a new friend and could help more people as time went on.