Chapter 12
Josie felt her mouth drop open. “Harry? What happened?” She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised, but somehow, she hadn’t really considered him a viable suspect.
“Well, of course Mark Denton didn’t read off the evidence when he put Harry in handcuffs. But he did say he was taking Harry in on suspicion of murdering Lyndon Bailey.”
“I wonder what they have on him,” Josie mused. But when she put together what she knew, maybe it added up to enough. Harry now owned the entire antique business, including all the inventory, except for, apparently, some pieces that Lyndon had bought himself, which would presumably go to his heir or heirs. Harry was clearly disgruntled about being cut out of the television show. Had he secretly been so angry that he decided to take matters into his own hands, effectively canceling the show before it even got started?
“Well, I can tell you that he and that television producer, Kai Norton, had a huge argument here around dinnertime. By the time Darrell and I heard the raised voices, it had already escalated to the point where Darrell had to grab Harry to keep him from going after Kai. We only heard part of the argument, but Kai almost seemed to be baiting Harry.”
“Baiting him?” What a jerk. Kai didn’t want Harry for the reality show, and then was teasing him about it? Josie didn’t like her next thought, but it had to be asked. “Uh, he wasn’t filming it, was he?”
There was a short silence on the other end of the line. “I never even thought of that. I don’t recall seeing a camera, but those things can be pretty small these days. If he filmed me or Darrell, I’ll tell you right now we are not signing any releases. Our faces will be blurred out if that footage ever airs.”
Josie wasn’t sure how she should react to the news of Harry’s arrest. Relieved that Lyndon’s murderer had been captured? Or enraged that an innocent man was now behind bars?
“And now, to make things especially awkward,” Margo continued, “guess who called and asked me to rent her a room?”
Josie ran through the possibilities and said the only name she could think of. “Taylor . . . what’s her name. Lyndon’s niece?”
“Yup. Taylor Philbin. So what am I supposed to tell her? ‘Sure, love to have you. By the way, the guy who’s accused of murdering your uncle? Yeah, he could be out on bail and back here any minute.’ ”
Margo was in a tough spot. It wasn’t as if she could turn down business. But on the other hand, she couldn’t put these two people under the same roof. If Harry came back, which was not at all certain. He might not be granted bail, or he might not be able to raise the money. “So what did you tell her?”
“I told her she could stay tonight, at least. Even if Harry does get out, I’m not sure I can let him stay here. A man is innocent until proven guilty and all that, but there’s the safety of myself, my husband, and my guests to think about. Harry’s paid through the weekend, so I’ll just lock his door and keep the room as is.”
“And deal with it if he gets out. Makes sense. Thanks for calling, Margo. And if you hear anything else, let me know.”
“I will, and you do the same.” Margo disconnected.
Josie leaned back in the office chair and blew out a breath. Coco seemed to know she was needed, as if Josie had flashed the Cat-Signal in the sky, because she jumped up into Josie’s lap and began to purr, a feline superhero.
In her gut, Josie didn’t think Harry was capable of murder. But what did she know? The first time she’d met him he had been standing over a body. She knew nothing about him, really, or about what kind of relationship he and Lyndon had had, what animosities there could have been between them.
From a practical standpoint, she now owned a building with a shop full of antiques, a shop that didn’t look like it was opening anytime soon. If ever. Her thoughts went back to when she’d first arrived in Dorset Falls, with no other tasks than helping Eb recover from his broken leg and closing up Miss Marple Knits. The idea of packing up the inventory of the yarn shop had been daunting enough. What if she had to pack up the inventory of the whole antique store? Of course professionals could be hired, but that would cost a fortune, and there would be storage fees on top of that. There was no guarantee she’d ever get that money back. Even considering she’d been paid six months in advance, storage fees for that amount of stuff would eat up the advance fast. It seemed a little insensitive to think about, when a man was dead, but she had to be practical too.
Coco jumped to the ground when Josie leaned forward and shut the lid of her laptop. “We’ll just have to wait and see what happens, I guess.” But Coco was already gone.
* * *
When Josie delivered her eggs to the general store the next morning, Mitch’s grandfather, Roy Woodruff, was sitting at a table by himself. He seemed nervous—his eyes darting around and his fingers drumming on the table. “You okay, Mr. Woodruff?” Josie asked, wondering if she should call Mitch. Which, she had to admit, would not be a chore.
“Huh?” Roy looked up, but didn’t seem to recognize her. His flannel shirt hung open over a thermal undershirt and under a red-and-black buffalo-plaid wool jacket. Thick silver-white stubble lined his chin.
“It’s me, Josie. Eb’s niece? From next door?” Agitation was rolling off the old farmer in waves.
Josie glanced toward Lorna behind the counter. Lorna returned the gaze and inclined her head slightly in a “come here” gesture. “Roy?” Josie said. “You want a glass of water or a coffee or something?” An untouched blueberry muffin sat on a plate in front of him.
“What? Dad-burn it, leave me alone, will you?” He broke open the muffin and jammed some into his mouth.
She knew a thing or two about dealing with cranky old men. Leaving them alone when asked was generally a good strategy, so she approached Lorna and raised an eyebrow in question.
“What’s going on with him, do you know? Mitch said he was acting strangely.”
Lorna smiled. “So, we’ve been talking to Mitch, have we? Do tell.”
Josie held up a hand. “Nothing to tell, I swear.” Though, she rather wished she had had something to tell. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
Lorna leaned over the counter and lowered her voice. “I don’t know. It’s unusual enough to see him here this time of morning. He’s a farmer, so you’d think he’d be doing farm chores, right? But he’s been here for an hour, either staring off into space or jumping at every little noise or movement.”
The front door opened and in walked—oh joy—Diantha Humphries. It was questionable which was colder, the breeze she let in or the stare she leveled at Josie. What had she ever done to this woman? Other than take over the knitting shop Diantha wanted to buy and send someone she loved to prison, that is.
Diantha made a beeline for Josie. “You—” she spluttered. “You’ve only been in town a few weeks, and you’ve already managed to ruin it.” Her face began to fluoresce into the shade of neon purple Josie knew so well.
Josie was fairly certain she was not personally responsible for the decline and fall of Dorset Falls. Maybe that of Diantha’s empire, though. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”
“You rented a building to a criminal.” Diantha’s breathing was faster than normal.
“Well, sure. It’s all part of my master plan. I’ll have Dorset Falls under martial law in no time.” Josie knew she wasn’t her best self when Diantha was around, but the mother of her high-school boyfriend could get under her skin like almost no one else. The woman had some nerve. Or was delusional.
Roy Woodruff chose that moment to abruptly get up. He looked around the store again, then hurried toward the front door. Diantha was saying something, no doubt something nasty, but whatever it was barely registered. Josie’s eyes were fixed on Roy. Should she follow him to his truck? Roy’s normal was taking care of his farm and pranking Eb. This behavior wasn’t normal.
Diantha was still blabbing when Josie cut her off. “Yeah, okay, thanks for letting me know how you feel. I have to get to work. At my yarn shop. So much new inventory to unpack, you know.” She followed Roy out the door and into the parking lot.
Roy got into his truck and peeled out. Impossible to say where he was going, and she wasn’t about to follow him. But she did pull out her cell phone and call Mitch.