Abigail didn’t care. She was sorry for Randall, but it was none of her business, and she had enough trouble on her hands as it was.
6
Abigail hoped today wouldn’t be as crazy as yesterday had been. Not only had yesterday begun with finding a body, but the rest of the day had been hectic. What felt like half the town had come by to talk about Randall’s death and to find out what Abigail and Aunt Charlotte knew. Abigail had done her best to stay away from the topic, talking to the clients about the soaps and staring at them until either they felt guilty enough to buy some or they stopped talking about Randall. Aunt Charlotte told her they’d made record sales, and while that helped, Abigail wasn’t sure she could do this again. She didn’t want to, and she was ready to tell her aunt she wasn’t feeling well so she could go home.
She wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t, not when Aunt Charlotte needed her. It didn’t matter that people seemed to think the shop was the most interesting place in town right now or that they wanted to talk about Randall. Abigail would be there either way, trying to talk them into buying a few bars of soap.
She wasn’t doing great, but she also wasn’t doing as bad as Miranda. She’d seen her at the coffee shop earlier today, looking lost. She supposed she would be, too, if she’d just lost her boss and couldn’t go to work. Miranda’s world had been turned upside down, and she didn’t look like it had made a full impact just yet. As far as Abigail knew, she hadn’t gone to the office. It was still closed off by the crime scene tape, and it would be for some time. But what other reason was there for Miranda to be at the coffee shop at seven in the morning?
Abigail had her own reasons to be there. She’d come to the shop early, without her aunt, to make sure everything was as it should be. They’d been so tired last night that they hadn’t taken the time to clean up the shop and put more soap on the shelves, and it had to be done before they opened today.
That was why when Aunt Charlotte arrived an hour later, Abigail was finished. The shop looked as good as new, and she was contemplating trying to make soap on her own. She knew better, though, so she was relieved when Aunt Charlotte finally arrived.
Aunt Charlotte looked around, then at Abigail. “I see I’m not the only one who didn’t sleep well last night,” she said.
That was an understatement. “Did you sleep at least a bit?” Abigail asked.
Aunt Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t need as much sleep as I used to when I was younger. How are you feeling?”
Abigail didn’t know how to answer that. “Weird. I don’t know how to describe it.”
Aunt Charlotte sighed. “I wish we could close, at least for a few days. It looks like we both need some time to deal with what happened.”
But they couldn’t. They were selling well, and it would be a mess if they decided to close right now, even after what had happened—maybe especially after that. No matter how much Abigail had hoped they would have a calmer day, she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Randall’s death was on everyone’s mind, and they wanted to know who had killed him. They wouldn’t approach Miranda—they were not that callous—but Abigail and her aunt were free game. People seemed to think they knew who had killed Randall or that they’d seen something that would help them guess, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Abigail had no idea who had done it, and she didn’t care. She wanted the person to pay, but it wouldn’t change anything for her.
The shop started filling right after they opened. Abigail forced herself to smile, and she managed to sell several soaps even as she fielded questions about Randall. She supposed she should feel lucky that most of the people she talked to seem to realize she didn’t want to talk about that and stopped asking questions after a while. When that happened, they went to Aunt Charlotte, who was more than happy to help them with their purchases while talking about Randall. Abigail understood why Aunt Charlotte wanted to talk about it. Maybe it was her way to deal with the shock. It wasn’t Abigail’s, though, and she was grateful she could stay away.
She spent her morning between the backroom and the main one, at least until Aunt Charlotte called her. “Abigail? Can you come here for a moment?”
Abigail sucked in a breath and went, even though she wasn’t ready to face the crowd. She thought her aunt needed her to grab the soap that was finished, but instead, she found the chief of police standing in the middle of the shop. He looked out of place. He was the kind of man Abigail imagined used only Irish Spring soap, the kind of man who bought the same brand again and again because it was good enough and he didn’t need anything more luxurious.
He was tall, with dark hair and dark eyes. His hair was starting to lighten at his temples, but it didn’t take away from his appearance. Abigail had decided she didn’t want a man in her life, not right now and maybe not ever, but she had eyes, and she could admit the chief of police was a good-looking man.
He was also there to interrogate them, though, so Abigail steeled herself and went to stand beside her aunt. “What can we do for you?” she asked even though she already knew.
He didn’t smile back. Instead, he stared for a moment, then seemed to shake himself. “I have more questions for both of you. I can come back after business hours if it’s easier for you.”
Abigail shook her head. “It’s fine.”
She moved to the door and flipped the open sign to closed. “There. That way, no one will come in while you’re talking to us.” Because the sooner they did this, the sooner they could get back to normal life. Abigail had known this would happen, but she hadn’t been looking forward to it. Who would?
Chief Holden nodded. “I want to go over what happened yesterday again.”
“We already told you everything,” Aunt Charlotte said. Her tone wasn’t angry, exactly, but she also didn’t sound as nice as usual. Even though she was doing her best not to show it, the situation was getting to her, too.
Abigail cleared her throat. “We both came in early because I was supposed to try to make soap. We were in the shop when we heard a scream, and we ran down the road. The real estate office was the only thing open with lights on, so we knew it had to come from there. When we walked in, we found Miranda, still screaming. She was looking inside of Randall’s office, and when we moved closer, I saw him. My aunt took care of Miranda while I called nine-one-one.” It was all there was to say, and Abigail hoped she wouldn’t have to repeat herself.
Chief Holden nodded curtly, then turned to Aunt Charlotte. “I was told you and the victim had been fighting lately.”
It took Abigail a moment to understand what he was saying, when she did, she wished she hadn’t. “Are you saying my aunt had something to do with the murder?” she asked.
Chief Holden looked at her. “I’m just asking questions,” he said.
“You can’t believe she had anything to do with it. Look at her. Not only is she an old lady, but she also broke her arm.”
Aunt Charlotte sputtered. “I’m not that old.”
Abigail glared at her. “Okay. Maybe you’re not that old. Still. You have a broken arm, and you’re not the kind of person who would kill someone. That much, I’m sure of.”
“I wasn’t saying she killed Mr. Mersen. I have to ask questions to everyone, including the both of you,” Chief Holden intervened.
Abigail wanted to believe him, but these days, she didn’t trust anyone she didn’t know. Hell, she had trouble even with people she did know. “We already told you everything. And yes, Randall and Aunt Charlotte were fighting. He wanted her to sell the shop, but she didn’t want to. That doesn’t mean she killed him. He was annoying, but not to the point to want him dead.”
The chief looked at Abigail as if trying to read her. “I’d still like to know where the two of you were the night before you found Mr. Mersen.”
Abigail frowned. “Is that when he was killed?” It would make sense. She remembered the lights inside his office had been on. She’d thought he’d come in early to work. He could also have nev
er left, though.
She shook her head. “I was home alone. I’m staying at my aunt’s house right now.”
The chief nodded, then turned his attention to Aunt Charlotte. “What about you?”
“Well, I’m living with my sister until I heal, but I’m a bit of a night owl. I usually go to bed late at night, and both she and her husband were already sleeping by the time I did.”
“And what did you do on your own?”
“Watch TV. What else? I can’t do anything with this arm,” Aunt Charlotte said, holding up her cast.
Chief Holden turned to Abigail “You said you were home alone,”
“I was. No one can tell you I was there the entire night. My only company was my aunt’s cat, and you can’t interrogate him.” Even though he looked like he wanted to.
“I see. Thank you for your patience.” He stepped toward the door. “I might come back if I have more questions.”
From his tone, Abigail was pretty sure he would have more questions, and they would have to deal with it. “You know where to find us.”
Abigail and her aunt watched him leave the shop. “Do you think I’m a suspect?” Abigail asked. She didn’t know Chief Holden well enough to know. He hadn’t sounded suspicious, but even though she knew she hadn’t done anything, she couldn’t prove it.
Aunt Charlotte sighed. “Right now, I think the entire town is suspect.”
“Do you want to know about Chief Holden?” Aunt Charlotte asked.
Abigail looked up from her salad. She was tempted to say no, but she couldn’t deny she did want to know about him. “Sure. Tell me.”
Her aunt took a bite of her sandwich, humming as she ate. “Well, he hasn’t been here long, maybe just over five years? Anyway, he’s integrated himself well enough.”
“Do you think he interrogated other people?”
Aunt Charlotte managed to smile. Abigail didn’t know how she did it. “I’m sure he’s interrogating a lot of people. You shouldn’t take it personally, Abby. I don’t think he suspects you. He doesn’t have a reason to.”
That much was true. Abigail had arrived only recently in town, and before coming back, she hadn’t known Randall. She didn’t have a reason to kill him, but she wouldn’t be surprised if the chief managed to find one. It happened all the time in movies, after all.
Then, there was Aunt Charlotte. It was ridiculous to think she could have had anything to do with it, and Abigail could only hope the chief of police would realize that. No matter what Aunt Charlotte said, she was an older woman, and she had a broken arm. How could she have killed Randall? It didn’t make sense, but Abigail knew the chief of police was far from being done with them. She might not like it, but she had to face that fact.
“Anyway,” Aunt Charlotte said. “He might not have been here long, but he’s already had one relationship.”
Abigail blinked. She wasn’t usually one for gossip, but she couldn’t deny she was curious. “He’s not married?”
“No. He arrived alone, and no one asked him if he was ever married. We tried to find out, but he’s a private man.”
It was a half miracle he’d managed to go on so long without anyone finding out about his private life. It was impressive, no matter how little Abigail liked to admit it. “But he had a relationship.” So either he never got married, he was divorced, or he was a widower.
“Yes. With Samantha James.”
It took a moment for Abigail to remember her. “We went to school together,” she finally said.
Aunt Charlotte rolled her eyes. “You went to school with everyone in town who’s about your age, Abby.”
But they hadn’t been friends. She had no idea what Samantha James was up to these days, and she wasn’t planning on finding out. She didn’t care about Chief Holden and his relationships, only about his potential accusations against her and her aunt.
“Anything else?” she asked. She wanted to get this out of the way before they had to head back.
Aunt Charlotte tapped her fingertips on the table. “Nothing much. He doesn’t have children, and he’s dedicated to his job. He’s good at it, too, so I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”
“How can you not worry? He as well as told you he suspected both of us. I wouldn’t be surprised if he came up with a solution that we did it together or something.”
That made Aunt Charlotte smile. “I don’t know about that. I mean, we do make a great team, but not for murder. You’re too squeamish.”
She wasn’t wrong about that, but before Abigail could answer, Miranda appeared next to their table. She still looked ragged, as she if she hadn’t been getting a lot of sleep, but she was as snarky as she’d ever been. “Asking about Chief Holden, are you?” she drawled, watching Abigail.
Abigail sighed. “Hello, Miranda. How are you doing?”
Miranda shook her head. “You’re not his type. He’s never going to look at you that way, and besides, aren’t you married?”
Abigail had no idea where this was coming from. She suspected Miranda was lashing out before people could ask questions, but she didn’t care. No matter how much pain Miranda was in, it didn’t give her the right to do this. “What do you want?” she snapped.
“Nothing. I just heard you talking. I wanted to tell you that you wouldn’t get anywhere with him.”
“And how do you know that? He might have been with Samantha, but it doesn’t mean he only likes women like her.”
“Again, aren’t you married, Abigail?”
“What about you? Did you ever get married?”
Miranda’s cheeks flushed. She looked like she didn’t want to answer, Abigail knew she’d hit a sore spot. It made her feel guilty, but Miranda wouldn’t have stopped if she hadn’t. She never did. “I’m fine on my own. I’d rather focus on my career them on a man.”
Abigail didn’t entirely believe her. “I see. And you worked with Randall, who’s now dead.”
Miranda’s eyes widened. “What are you trying to say?”
Abigail didn’t know herself. “Nothing.”
“Oh, don’t play innocent. Tell me.”
“I was just wondering where you were the other night. Chief Holden came to interrogate us, but I can’t help but wonder if he talked to you, too.”
Miranda opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Are you saying I had something to do with Randall’s death?”
Abigail didn’t know what she was saying. Miranda had always managed to get under her skin and make her lose her cool. “You tell me.”
Miranda stormed off without answering. Abigail watched her go, feeling guilty even though she shouldn’t. Miranda was the one who had started this, and she wouldn’t have stopped if Abigail hadn’t stood up to her.
“That was something,” Aunt Charlotte said.
Abigail rubbed her face. “I was awful.”
“In your defense, so was she. She had no business coming here and asking you about your husband and telling you those things about the chief.”
“She’s Miranda. I should have known she would do that.”
“Still, you shouldn’t feel too guilty about what you said. She shouldn’t go around saying those things if she doesn’t want people to talk back.”
That was what Abigail had been thinking, but it didn’t make her feel better.
None of this was making her feel better. She wanted to go home, to her real home, back in the city. She couldn’t, though. Dunter Harbor was her home again, and she had to get used to it.
She hoped she could.
7
“I don’t need my hair done,” Abigail muttered.
Aunt Charlotte cheerfully ignored her. “I never said you had to get your hair done. I do, though.”
“And you couldn’t go alone? The hairdresser is just on the other side of the street.”
“I could, but they’ve all been asking about you, and they can’t wait to see you again.”
That was what Abigail was afraid of. The main gossipers in town had b
een eager to talk to her to find out what had happened to her and why she’d come back home, and now, with the Randall thing, they wanted to get their hands on Abigail even more. She wasn’t looking forward to it, and she’d tried to get out of it.
She should have known she wouldn’t be able to. Aunt Charlotte wouldn’t take no for an answer. She’d even closed the shop for lunch break an hour earlier. She’d said Abigail needed to get out more, and while that might be true, Abigail’s idea of fun wasn’t getting her hair done.
This was what her life was now, though, so she followed Aunt Charlotte down the street. The hairdresser was only minutes away, and when they walked in, she was hit by the smell of hair spray, cleaners, and a hint of something lemony. She wrinkled her nose, but before she could grumble some more, Eunice came toward them. “Charlotte! I wasn’t sure I’d see you today.”
Aunt Charlotte rolled her eyes and handed Abigail her handbag. “Of course you would. I called you to make an appointment.”
Eunice leaned closer. “I didn’t know if you’d keep it, with that dreadful thing that happened. I can’t believe you found him.”
There it was. It was already starting, and Abigail had no way out.
Eunice turned her attention to Abigail. “And you. You didn’t make an appointment.”
Abigail forced herself to smile. “I didn’t because I don’t need my hair done, but thank you. I’m just here with Aunt Charlotte. She insisted we come before we head out to lunch.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to cut your hair?”
Abby was tempted to cut it short, but she knew it had more to do with her divorce than with how she liked her hair. She shook her head, resisting the temptation. “I’m fine.”
“Well, don’t hesitate to make an appointment if you change your mind. Come on, Charlotte. Sit down.”
Abigail sat in one of the hard plastic chairs in the waiting area. She wasn’t going anywhere, not for a while, and she wished she’d thought about bringing something to read. She would have if she’d known this was where she’d spend half her lunch break. But Aunt Charlotte had known she would refuse to come if she was given the chance, so she hadn’t mentioned anything about it until it was time to leave the shop.
Lethal Suds Page 6
