Darrell Townsend sat behind a massive see-through desk. It must’ve been made of acrylic. His office chair was white. The walls at either end of the room were white, too, including where Alice and Todd had entered through the double doors. The other two walls were glass, one providing a view on the street, the other, behind Darrell, looking out at dense forest.
Darrell placed his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers.
“What an unexpected pleasure. What’s this about a bribe?”
Todd, grinning, tossed the pie box onto the desk, and then threw himself onto one of the chairs facing the desk. He was so long-legged, he looked like a giraffe on a dollhouse chair.
Darrell lifted the lid on the pie box and raised an eyebrow.
“Apple crumble. Highly suspicious.” He gestured at Alice. “Please, take a seat.”
Alice was staring at Darrell’s neck. His button-down shirt was buttoned up. There was no way of telling whether he wore a necklace or not.
She sat down.
Darrell pressed a button on his desk phone. “Janice, bring us coffee. Three. All black. And three plates with spoons and a cake knife, please.”
He studied Alice. “Do you know how I know that you prefer black coffee?”
Alice shook her head.
“Because it’s my business to know what goes on in Blithedale.”
Janice entered the office with a tray. She put the plates down, one near each of them, and then the cups of black coffee. She handed Darrell the cake knife. As she turned, she gave Alice a parting glance, barely disguising her sneer.
Once Janice had closed the door behind her, Darrell opened the box and cut the pie. He dished out a slice for Alice, one for Todd, and one for himself. Alice noted that Darrell had cut a slightly larger piece for himself.
“As I was saying,” he said, settling back into his chair, “I know what goes on in this town, and I know who comes and who goes. I even know—” He forked up a mouthful of pie and chewed it, closing his eyes, obviously savoring the taste. “—which pie is the best in town.”
Alice hadn’t touched her coffee or her pie. Todd was eating his apple crumble with gusto, washing down big mouthfuls with coffee. But between bites, he glanced over at Alice and at his brother, constantly alert to what was going on.
“This is good pie,” Darrell said. “In fact, it’s the best in Blithedale. But some day, we will have half a dozen cafés with delicious pies. Some day, Blithedale will be known as the pie capitol.”
“Though probably not the bonsai capitol,” Todd quipped, and snickered.
Darrell smiled. “Probably not. Small stores like Bonsai & Pie represent baby steps. When Blithedale grows up, the town will offer something no other town for miles can offer—the amenities of the city surrounded by nature. Modern condos. Mansions with four-car garages. Big box stores by a sparkling river. Widescreen movie theaters nestled in the woods. Shopping malls where once there were farms.”
“Sounds like a big vision for the distant future,” Alice said.
Actually, it sounded like a dystopian future, but she didn’t say that.
“Not as distant as you might think. Within a decade, this town will be transformed. But it will take work. And it will take change. But you’re no stranger to change, are you, Miss Hartford?”
He touched a mouse on his desk and stared at the computer screen, its contents hidden from Alice’s view.
“Alice Hartford, 29 years old. Unmarried. Engaged to be married to one Richard Crawley. Also known as ‘Rich.’ Owner of Crawley Books, one of the city’s most well-regarded independent bookstores, where Alice Hartford worked as a bookstore manager, reporting to—oh, a little office romance—Rich Crawley himself. In fact, there was a big wedding planned for a few days ago, and then…” Darrell raised his hands in a mock display of confusion. “…nothing. No social media posts. No gushing about the wedding. But coincidentally, a runaway bride appears many miles away in a small town called Blithedale, selling her wedding dress at a consignment store. And taking an unusual interest in a bookstore, of all places.”
He tsk-tsked, shaking his head.
“This love story has taken a shocking turn. The poor groom apparently doesn’t even know where his bride has run off to.”
An icy feeling crept down Alice’s spine. Darrell’s crocodile smile made her insides cold, too.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that Rich Crawley might appreciate a little information on where his bride has gone.”
“Leave Rich out of this.”
“Out of what, Miss Hartford? I’m only suggesting I’d be doing a good deed. Helping out a broken-hearted man.”
“What do you want, Darrell?”
He clicked his mouse and turned away from the screen, facing her again.
“You seem unusually interested in Blithedale Books.”
“A man died there,” Alice said.
“Yes, you supposedly saw Vince’s killer. I’ve heard your story. It doesn’t get any more plausible with each retelling.”
“I’m not lying.”
“If you’re such an honest person, why break into the bookstore and eavesdrop on Bunce and myself?”
Darrell raised an eyebrow, challenging her to answer.
Alice tensed. He had looked straight at her, yet in the gloom of the bookstore, she’d been so sure he hadn’t spotted her. She’d been wrong.
She pressed her lips shut, refusing to confirm his accusation, but also seeing no point in denying it.
“Alice,” he said with a sigh. “May I call you Alice? Of course I may. Listen, whether you have a need to play amateur sleuth or some unhealthy obsession for a ramshackle bookstore, I don’t have time for people who meddle in my affairs. Do you understand?”
“You’re telling me to back off. Do you know how incriminating that is?”
Darrell smiled and looked at his brother. “See? I told you she’d be reasonable.”
Todd shrugged. “She did just accuse of you of breaking the law.”
“There’s nothing incriminating about buying a bookstore that no one else wants to buy. Besides, Todd, what is it I keep telling you?”
“The law can bend so far, why bother breaking it?”
Darrell wagged his cake fork at Todd, while smiling at Alice. “Careful with this guy. Once you tell him something, he never forgets.” He pointed at her plate with the piece of untouched pie. “Are you going to eat that?”
Alice shook her head.
“You can see yourself out,” he said as he leaned across the desk and took the plate, bringing it over to his side. For an instant, she had a clear view down his shirt at his collarbone. A glint of gold caught her eye. A necklace.
She clenched her fists, and leaned forward to get a better look. Yes, the necklace was like the one she had in her pocket. Identical. Except a pendant dangled from it…
She sank back in her chair, letting out a disappointed sigh.
The pendant wasn’t a heart. It was a little gold dollar sign.