Bonsai & Pie did good business in the morning. The line was long. As Alice sipped her coffee and chewed heavenly mouthfuls of egg-and-bacon pie, she watched Andrea box up one pie after another.
A truck driver in a baseball cap ordered the breakfast special, chatting with Andrea about the weather as Alice speared another piece of pie and savored the creamy egg and burst of salty bacon. The next customer in line was a woman with a loud voice who explained that she had no qualms about eating cherry pie for breakfast. She hurried out with her pie box and a grin on her face.
While Alice waited for a chance to talk to Andrea, she glanced at a cork board on the wall. Notices stuck to the board advertised private guitar lessons, yoga classes, and guided hikes through the woods. There was also a watercolor sketch of a cabin in the woods, the initials AC in the bottom right-hand corner.
But it was a newspaper clipping that caught her interest.
The paper cutout was not from The Blithedale Record, since that newspaper was online only. Its headline said, “David beats Goliath: Local citizens stop high-profile development project.” The article mentioned Townsend Development’s plan to build a strip mall at the edge of Blithedale. But protesters had stopped the bulldozers from breaking ground, and then, under threat of legal challenge, Darrell Townsend backed down.
The photograph accompanying the article showed protesters forming a human chain. Alice recognized several people in the photo, each named in the caption: Kristin Cox, Ona Rodriguez, and—standing front and center—Andrea Connor.
Alice’s heart skipped a beat. She leaned closer. Yes, although the photo was grainy, it seemed Andrea was wearing a necklace. A gold chain with a heart pendant.
“We’re proud of that moment,” she heard Andrea say behind her, and Alice jumped.
Andrea wore a low-cut neckline revealing her collarbone. It was bare. She wore no necklace. Where had her necklace gone?
“Are you all right?” Andrea asked, concern on her face.
Thinking about what she saw, Alice realized, she’d put a hand to her throat.
“I’m fine,” she said, dropping her hand. Then added, “You surprised me, that’s all.”
Andrea motioned to the newspaper clipping. “We stopped Darrell Townsend that time. We won the battle. But I’m afraid he’ll win the war.”
“What—?” Alice struggled to keep her gaze from falling on Andrea’s bare neck. “What do you mean?”
“Some of us fear Darrell’s plans will destroy this town. I heard the Oriels pulled out of the bookstore deal. Honestly, I couldn’t believe it when I first heard it.”
“Because the deal was almost done?”
“That—plus the Oriels seem so committed to Blithedale. They used to own a cabin in the woods, and now that they’d retired, they told me, they wanted to start a new life here. They were willing to overlook how run-down the bookstore had become. Other buyers won’t. And that leaves Bunce with no choice. It’s only a matter of time before Darrell talks him into selling.”
Alice nodded. She didn’t tell Andrea what she’d overheard—that Darrell had already gotten to Bunce.
Andrea said, “Of course, if someone could convince Bunce to fix that place up…” She shook her head. “But his idea of fixing things is slapping some spackle on the ceiling to keep the roof from caving in.”
A customer came into the cafe and Andrea returned to stand behind the counter. While she boxed up a pie for the customer, Alice studied her.
As far as Alice knew, Andrea had no connection to the bookstore. But she had left a beautiful bonsai in tribute to Vince.
What had Esther said about Vince buying necklaces? He’d bought several, and always with a heart pendant. Like the one Andrea had been wearing when the newspaper photographed her at the protest. Or like Vince’s wife, who wore three heart pendants on her necklace.
Darrell had seemed the most obvious suspect, because of his interest in the bookstore. His motive in killing Vince would have been to shut down the store and scare off potential buyers.
But what if the motive wasn’t greed, but love? What if the killer pushed Vince, not because of the bookstore, but because he’d broken his lover’s heart?
Andrea thanked the customer, and Alice’s eyes dropped to the bare spot where a necklace ought to have been. Where the heart ought to have been.
Andrea put a hand to her chest. “What are you looking at?”
Alice snapped out of her reverie. “Uh, nothing…”
“Did I spill something?” Andrea looked down at herself—then up at Alice. She frowned. “What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Alice tried to smile, aware that she looked like she was suffering from lockjaw. She’d never thought facing a murder suspect would make her knees turn to jello. What kind of detective crumbled at a moment like this?
She swallowed, and when she spoke her voice squeaked. “Andrea…”
Andrea touched Alice’s shoulder. “You sure you’re OK?”
“Vince…” She didn’t get further. Andrea drew back her hand as if Alice’s shoulder was a hot coal, and her eyes widened.
Alice said, “How did you know Vince?”
Andrea stared at her. Her face gradually cleared of emotion. It hardened. She said, “I didn’t know Vince. I didn’t know him at all.”
Then she turned her back on Alice.