by Nancy CoCo
“My realtor took care of the leasing papers and my friend Emerald took care of the paperwork for permits and licensing. If you aren’t a trial lawyer, why have me come down to your office?” I’d walked down to his office this morning to clear my head.
“Because I’m interested in the case,” he said. He leaned toward me over his big oak desk. “And my son, Matt, is a trial lawyer. I thought I’d have you come down and meet with him.”
There was a knock on the door and the door opened to a handsome man with dark hair and dark eyes. I would guess him to be in his early thirties. He was maybe six feet tall and wore a perfectly fitted, navy blue, pinstriped suit. His black shoes shone and he wore what could only be described as a hipster beard—perfectly groomed and about four inches long. He looked like he just stepped out of a luxury car commercial. That’s saying something, as most everyone else in Oceanview wore hooded sweatshirts or flannel. “Sorry for the delay,” he said and walked over to where I sat and held out his hand. “I’m Matt Hanson. Has Dad told you I want to take your case?”
I shook his hand without thinking. His handshake was firm and as professional as his Italian-cut suit. “I don’t have a lot of money.” The words burst out of me. He looked like a high-powered lawyer, and high-powered lawyers usually get paid high-powered salaries. “I’m just a shopkeeper.”
He flashed a wide, white-toothed smile. “It’s okay, I’m willing to take this pro bono.” Sitting on the edge of his father’s desk, he faced me. Funny, Oceanview was a relatively small town. Why didn’t I remember seeing him around before? He certainly stood out in a crowd.
“Why?” I asked a bit lost.
“We’re interested in the case,” they both said at the same time.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “I’m sorry, have we met before?”
“No,” Matt said. “I have an office in Portland and Salem. Dad called me in when he heard Agnes was found dead.”
“Agnes and Bernie Snow have a high-profile reputation in the area,” Bobby said. “We don’t think anyone should get railroaded just because the mayor wants answers now.”
“That and the mayor and the Snows have been a bit of a thorn in our sides,” Matt said and crossed his arms. “Plus, Dad owes your aunt a favor or two.”
“So this is political,” I deduced.
“Yes,” they both said unapologetically.
“Do you know who might have killed Agnes?” I asked.
“No,” Bobby said.
“Haven’t a clue,” Matt said. “Tell us what you know.”
I gave them the short story of how I found Agnes, how Bernie Snow kicked me out of his home, and then how Jim pulled me in for questioning. “And now Alicia from the Gazette wants me to tell my story,” I finished.
“Don’t talk to the press,” Matt said. “It’s never a good idea.”
“But if I don’t talk to them, they’ll make assumptions.”
“Assumptions but not accusations,” Matt said. He grabbed a chair and pulled it toward me. Then he sat and leaned in. The effect was to create a calm bubble around us. “Listen, do you have any reason to kill Agnes?”
“No.”
“What about your Aunt Eloise? Everyone knows they were rivals.”
“No,” I said. “Aunt Eloise was devastated by Agnes’s death. Think about it. Suddenly her rival is gone. Who does she engage with now? Besides, a silly little rivalry doesn’t mean you would kill someone. They’ve been competing for decades. Why kill her now?”
He frowned. “Makes sense.”
“Was it okay for me to give Officer Hampton my lip balm formula?”
“Yes,” he said. “It shows you are cooperating. But from now on, I’d recommend you don’t talk to the police unless I’m with you. If they pick you up again, call me before you say anything. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’ll go visit them today and get the story.” He smiled again. “My uncle is the district judge.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “Can he tell you things?”
“No, not officially, but we have ways of guessing,” Bobby said.
“Okay, so what do I do now?”
“Now, you go back to your shop and go about your day as if nothing happened,” Matt said.
“That’s going to be hard to do,” I said. “The press is hanging around my shop.” It was true. The television news crew had shown up as soon as I stepped outside this morning. I’d told them no comment and I meant it. They were currently camped out on Main Street. “Someone from the news crew is following me. I think they are waiting for me outside.” Not to mention Alicia was stopping by tonight with wine and dinner. We were friends. I wanted to hang out and destress.
“Then we have to craft a story that is safe to tell,” Matt said.
“There is no need for a story,” I said. “I’m innocent.”
“Everyone says that,” Matt said. “It only makes you look guiltier. Listen, if anyone asks you questions, refer them to me. Here’s my card. I’ll go check out what the story is on Agnes. You leave your story to me.”
Gee, I wish that made me feel more comfortable. I left the law office and walked home. I could have driven, but I needed to think. I did manage to avoid the promenade. There would be a lot of people there and they would all be asking questions.
* * *
“You know what the answer is,” Aunt Eloise said as she stood by the door to the shop later that afternoon, trying to judge the difference between reporter and shopper.
“Let everyone in and let Porsche run the business until things die down?”
“No,” she said and gestured for me to come over. I went to her side and we both looked out at the crowd peering at us. “We need to figure out who’s framing you.”
“The killer?”
“Exactly,” Aunt Eloise said.
“I think the police are going to—”
“Blame it on the easiest person and, my dear, that poor soul unfortunately is you.”
I blew out a long breath at the craziness of it all.
“Excuse me,” an elderly woman shouted from the lip balm display. She was tiny and wore jeans, a T-shirt that read WORLD’S BEST GRANNY under a black Columbia jacket. Her hair was white and curled perfectly around her round face.
I went over to her. “How can I help you?”
“Is this the lip balm that killed Agnes Snow?” She peered at me from behind round glasses. There was a glint in her eyes.
“What? No,” I said horrified. “My lip balm never hurt anyone.”
“That’s not what I hear,” she cackled. “This is great for Halloween. I’ll take them all.” She shoveled the entire shelf into her Halloween-themed tote bag with one fell swoop of her arm.
“That’s over five hundred dollars,” I warned her.
“Worth it,” she said. “Come on, ring me up. I can’t wait to pass these out at work and see who’s afraid to put it on.”
“I’m sorry, but you can’t purchase those,” Jim said as he entered the store.
“Why not?” the woman asked. “I have perfectly good credit.”
“Because I need to take all of those into evidence,” he stated.
“I think you need to have a warrant to seize anything,” Aunt Eloise said.
Jim pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Now, I need to take those.” He gently but firmly took the tote out of the woman’s hand. “In fact, I’m closing the store down. Please everyone, put down whatever you planned to purchase and in an orderly manner leave the store.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. “You’re going to put me out of business.”
“Don’t worry, honey,” she said as she touched my arm. “Lip balm that’s been locked up in evidence is even better. I’m a huge fan of true crime and I have a lot of friends who are as well. Here’s my information. The minute he lets those free, you call me and I’ll buy the whole lot.”
I took the paper
and watched in dismay as Jim and Officer Ryan O’Riley shepherded everyone out of the store. Aunt Eloise, Porsche, and I were the only people left. I dialed Matt Hanson’s cell phone.
“Hanson,” he said as he answered the phone.
“Hi, it’s Wren. The police are in my shop. They are making everyone leave the building.”
“Did they serve you a warrant?”
“Yes,” I said and opened the paper. “I’m not sure that I understand what it says.”
“I’ll be down. Don’t let them search anything until I read the warrant.”
“It’s too late for that,” I said as I watched two more police officers enter the building and begin to systematically take things off the shelves. “They’re going to take all my inventory. That’s going to put me completely out of business.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I hung up and watched them take items off the shelves. “Excuse me, but that’s my property,” I said. “You can’t seize that.”
“Unfortunately, we can,” Jim said. “In this case, we must. We can’t take the chance that other products on your shelves are tainted.”
I tried to remain calm and make sense of the warrant. “I’ve called my lawyer. I think you’re on a fishing expedition.”
“What was the poison that killed Agnes?” Aunt Eloise asked. “Look around, you won’t find any poison on the premises.”
“I can’t share any information,” Jim said. “It’s best if you ladies go outside and let us do our jobs.”
“I need to get Everett,” I said and stormed upstairs. My boy was in his favorite box in the bedroom closet. I pulled him out and hugged him close. He meowed his disapproval of being disturbed. But I knew he’d be fine with it. One thing about Everett, he was usually fine with things. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” I whispered and put his leash on him, then carried him back downstairs and through the shop to the outside. I tried not to cringe at the sound of glass breaking as they jostled things in the shop behind me.
A small crowd had gathered by the time Matt arrived in a blue sports car. He got out and strode into the shop. “May I see the warrant?”
I handed him the paper and snuggled with Everett. My kitty was helping me feel better in the strange circus that had become my life. “It’s a bit dramatic in there. Glass is rattling and being dropped. They are just sweeping my inventory into garbage bags. This is going to set me back two months.”
“I’ll go talk to them.” He walked off.
Aunt Eloise put her hand on my shoulder. “This is not the kind of Halloween scare we want around here.”
I flinched at the sound of more glass clinking. One of the officers took a bag and put it in his squad car. “I’m going to go to Porsche’s house,” I announced.
“Good idea,” Aunt Eloise said and handed me off to Porsche. “I’ll let that cute lawyer of yours know where you’re going.”
“Come on,” Porsche said. “Watching the kids play will take your mind off of this horror.” We walked in silence for five blocks. Tears flowed down my cheeks. “Oh, honey, it’s okay,” she said and hugged me. “We’re going to fix this.”
“How?”
“We’re going to investigate the murder.”
“Really? Where would we even begin?”
“Well, we’ll do what they do on television. We’ll set up a murder board and list suspects.”
“How will we know who’s a suspect?”
“We’ll ask questions and find clues. I’m certain we can get answers that the police can’t. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Everett meowed his approval. I wiped away the tears. “Fine, let’s do this.”
* * *
Making a murder board at Porsche’s house was easy. She had two boys in elementary school and they had poster board for school projects. We cut a picture of Agnes out of the paper and pinned it to the middle of the board.
“Who is our first suspect?” Porsche asked. Her boys, River and Phoenix, were playing video games in the next room. Everett was sitting on the back of her sofa.
“Well, they always say to look at the husband first,” I said. “He would have access to her lip balm.”
The sound from the playroom grew loud and something crashed. “Jason, can you go see what the kids are doing?” Porsche asked and rolled her eyes. “Being married for as long as they were is pretty good motive for murder.”
Porsche’s husband was a shoe designer who worked for Nike. He had a home office but was often traveling to shows around the world. So when Jason was home, they had a deal: He handled the kids. Porsche once told me that as parents you had to double-team your kids or things would get out of hand.
The sounds from the next room quieted down as Jason’s voice floated above the fray.
I laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t know, but we can’t suspect anyone without evidence. We should look into how much insurance Agnes had.”
“Got it,” Porsche said and made a list. “Oh, and we should ask around. Maybe Bernie has a girlfriend.” She wrote “girlfriend” on the board with a question mark.
“Or Agnes had a boyfriend,” I said and added “boyfriend” to the list.
“Or Bernie had a boyfriend,” Porsche said.
“Or Agnes had a girlfriend,” I said and ticked off both columns. I studied my friend. She was dressed in a peasant top with a cold-shoulder sleeve and a pair of jeans. Her long hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail. I wish I had her upscale style.
In contrast, I wore a maxi dress with a long sweater. My hair was a fuzzy ball of curls that ringed my head like a halo. Sometimes they looked golden. Sometimes there was a hint of red in them.
“So, money, love, revenge—” I started listing things that could be considered motive.
“Your aunt?”
“What? No, no, no,” I said. “She would be as likely to have done it as me. Besides, even if she did get mad and do Agnes in, she would have never framed me for the deed.”
“True,” Porsche said and pursed her lips. “Who do you think wants to frame you?”
“That’s a strange question.”
“Well, think about it, honey. This is ruining your business and your reputation all in one blow. Is there anyone you know who would want to do that to you?”
“No, I don’t have any real enemies . . . I mean, Mrs. Dupont complained about my honey face mask,” I said, “but I gave her money back.”
“Did she bring back the goods?”
“No,” I said.
“She just wanted to see if she could get your product for free.” Porsche tapped the marker against her chin. “What about the candle shop? Aren’t you in competition with your beeswax candles?”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “But that shop is located closer to the beach. I don’t think my business is an actual threat. Does Agnes have any family?”
“I think she has a sister in Oregon City. I’m not sure how close they were.”
“Well, let’s find out who she’s related to and add them to the list.” I pursed my lips. “Where can we find out more about Agnes?”
“I imagine the craft store,” Porsche replied. “She spent more time there than at home from what I hear. Which leads me back to a possible girlfriend for Bernie.”
“Maybe she was taking a class and upset the teacher,” I suggested.
Porsche wrote “craft store” and “teacher” on the board. We heard a crash in the next room. “Hold my pen,” she said and stormed off to yell at whatever child was upsetting the place.
I held the pen in my hand and studied the board. There was a lot we didn’t know.
How were we going to figure this out? How was my business going to survive if I didn’t?
Honey’s antibiotic properties can help heal
wounds and sooth burns.
Chapter 5
“They took over half my inventory.” I stood in the center of my shop and stared at the disarray the police had left behind.
“I had t
hem note everything they took,” Matt said. “We’re going to submit it to your insurance company.”
“I don’t think they’ll pay for a search and seizure.”
“Then we’ll sue whoever is framing you.”
I smiled wryly. “We have to figure that out first. It seems the police are looking squarely at me.” Everett meowed from my arms and studied the mess with distain. My cat liked things in their place neat and tidy. He didn’t necessarily like what it took to get them that way, but he appreciated the end result.
“I’ve got a call in to the judge,” Matt said. “They executed the warrant and that means they think they have good cause.”
“They were fishing for something,” I surmised. “But there is no way they found it.”
“Maybe this is like that old Tylenol case where someone tampered with the product,” Aunt Eloise suggested.
“My advice to you is to take the rest of the evening off,” Matt said. “You can spend all day tomorrow cleaning up and then determine what it would take to reopen. They’ve released the store so it will take a second search warrant for them to come back. I’ll make that as hard as possible. They’re going to have to put the murder weapon in your hand.”
I started to tremble at the idea. “Perish the thought.”
Matt gave me a short hug. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
“Come on, Wren,” Aunt Eloise said. “I’ll go upstairs and make you some dinner. You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”
We let Matt out and locked up the shop. So many people walked by and stared. It was unusual to have foot traffic in the evenings for the off-season, and I knew they had to be gossiping about me. I waved at them and smiled, holding my chin high. Most looked away, ashamed.
Upstairs I saw that they had also thoroughly searched my apartment. I wondered if I had left anything embarrassing lying around. I didn’t think so.
“Well, this is certainly a fine kettle of fish,” Aunt Eloise said. Today her long gray hair was plated down her back. She had on her “Portland Rose Kitty” T-shirt, jeans, and a long black sweater. “The least they could have done is cleaned up after themselves.”
“It’s okay,” I said and put Everett down. “I’d rather do that myself.”
