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Once I set the résumé aside, it was crunch time on getting my jewelry photographed to send to the Jewelry Artisans of the Southeast. After two hours of photographing necklaces, bracelets, and earrings from every angle imaginable, I had no time to prepare a meal, even though I’d invited Justin over for dinner to celebrate him getting back into town. Instead, I ordered Chinese takeout.
When I got home from picking up the food, I curled up on the living room sofa with Miriam and thumbed through a new bead catalog while I waited for Justin. Still thinking about the Miranda Horgrave résumé, I tossed the catalog aside and retrieved the envelope with the mysterious piece of paper in it.
Someone wanted me to see this. If it was the killer, how does he or she even know that I’m interested in this case?
Before I could muse any further, a rap on the front door signaled Justin’s arrival.
As soon as I opened the door, he gave me a kiss on the cheek and stepped inside. Then he sniffed. “Whatever you cooked smells delicious.”
“Actually, I ran out of time and didn’t cook at all, but our friends at Little China did, so you’re in luck.”
Like me, Justin was a fan of the Chinese restaurant’s moo goo gai pan. I motioned for him to follow me to the kitchen, where I prepared a small pot of green tea before we filled our plates and sat at my retro dinette set. I preferred to use chopsticks when eating Chinese, but Justin opted for a fork.
“So I want to hear all about Denver.” I popped a water chestnut into my mouth.
Justin eagerly gave me the scoop on his recent show. He said he’d made some great contacts, and after talking with them, he wanted to get more involved with the local arts council, which was music to my ears.
Justin poured himself a refill of tea. “And at this one gallery I liked, they have five artists who travel around doing shows together. I’d love to hook up with some of the other artists in the area and do something like that.”
I considered the idea. “Savannah would probably be up for it, and she’ll know which other painters in town might be interested.”
Justin swallowed a bite of chicken and continued, “So she’s the only fine artist on the board?”
I pretended to be offended. “I must point out that we all like to think we’re fine artists, but yeah, she’s the only painter on the board right now. Although hopefully, that may be changing soon. I guess we skew heavily to the crafts side of things, now that you mention it.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” Justin grinned. “And by the way, I think you’re pretty fine too.”
I hadn’t been fishing for a compliment, but I could feel my cheeks flushing. I turned my attention to my chicken and rice. “You might be interested in knowing that there’s another painter who’s thinking of joining. It’s Tyler Montgomery, and he’s an old friend of Savannah and Gus. Ever heard of him?”
Justin shook his head. “Nope. What’s his art like?”
I perked up. “I haven’t seen it myself, but I’m told it’s these wonderful moody acrylics. I hear he’s got a big following, so that sounds like just the kind of person who might fit in with your group of exhibiting artists.”
“Have you met him?”
I swallowed a sip of tea. “Briefly. He was at the last arts council meeting, and he dropped by the gallery the other day. I think he and Gus may have something serious going on.”
“Really?” Justin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t guess I’ve ever seen Gus with anyone, now that you mention it.”
“I’ve only ever seen her with the guys she volunteers with or serves on boards with. Nothing romantic at all. I hadn’t even heard of Tyler until he showed up at the bazaar on Saturday. Savannah was excited about him being there and gave me the scoop on him and Gus. She said his appearance was definitely one of the best things that happened on Saturday.”
“Speaking of, have the police made any progress on figuring out who killed Miranda?” he asked between bites. “I saw a lot of references to it on social media once I got back in town.”
I shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything new, except...” I’d debated whether to tell him about the résumé. I bit my lip.
“What’s wrong?” Justin furrowed his brow.
I got up from the table. “I want to show you something.” I stepped to the entryway, retrieved the padded mailer, then returned to the kitchen and handed it over. “Take a look.”
He fished out the paper, unfolded it, and began to read. After a few minutes, he looked up. “I thought Miranda was some Happy Hometown legend who came from New York. I was under the impression that Roseland was lucky she’d decided to grace us with her presence.”
“That’s what I thought too.” I told Justin what else I had learned about Miranda from my internet search.
Justin refolded the paper, tucked it back into the mailer, and set the package on the table. “How did you get this?”
I explained that I’d found the mailer at my back door earlier in the day. “And no, I have no idea why it was dropped off here.”
“I don’t like this, Emma.” The set of his jaw told me he meant business.
I grimaced. “You don’t like what?”
“I don’t like that someone overly interested in Miranda’s murder, maybe even her killer, dropped off her résumé here at your house. It’s like someone knows you’re going to do his dirty work for him.”
“Or her.”
“Huh?”
I shrugged. “We have no idea whether the killer is male or female. It could be a he or a she.”
Justin sighed. “I suppose you’re right. But please tell me you’re taking this to the police.”
I nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m planning to do. First thing tomorrow morning.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. As a matter of fact, I feel kind of creepy having this, now that you’ve mentioned some of the same thoughts I was already having.”
As we polished off a second pot of tea, we left that unpleasant topic and brainstormed about the group of fine artists he hoped to assemble. Then we moved to the living room to check out a new series on Netflix, and by the time the first two episodes ended, I was stifling a yawn.
“I saw that.” Justin grinned. “You’ve had a busy day being a businesswoman, jewelry marketer, and amateur sleuth. I think it’s time we called it a night.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“We’re still on for The Loft tomorrow night, I hope,” Justin said as he headed to the front door.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” The Loft was our favorite restaurant in Roseland, and I always looked forward to going there, especially with him.
He fingered my chin and stared into my eyes. “You know I love my work, but I’ve missed you this week, Emma. Thanks for dinner tonight.” Then he tucked a wisp of my hair behind my ear and gave me a kiss that made my stomach do backflips. I was still determined to take my time on our new relationship, but it was nice to be missed—and even nicer to be kissed. He stepped away and headed down the steps. I savored the kiss for a moment then waved him off as he pulled away from the street, but as soon as I closed the door, my thoughts drifted back to the résumé.
Something had been rattling around in my head ever since I’d read it, and I finally realized what it was. City leaders had supposedly chosen Miranda from a host of other applicants for the new job, and surely they’d seen a copy of her résumé before they hired her. But they couldn’t possibly have viewed the same one I’d received. Somehow, I needed to find out what they’d seen, so I put that on my list of things to check out.
After Justin left, I tidied the kitchen before settling in the living room, where Miriam curled up next to me on the sofa, both of us quite content. Pets really did give back so much more than they asked for.
I flipped through a few channels and tried to decide between some HGTV and a new episode of the Great British Bake Off, then my cell phone rang. The display said it was the Happy Hometown office, so it had to be Caitlyn. How odd that she was calling at almost ten o’clock in the evening.
“Hey, Caitlyn. What’s up?” No answer came.
“Caitlyn? Are you there?”
I barely managed to hear her frightened whisper. “I-I’m here at the office and...”
My senses tingled. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Y-Yes. But something terrible has happened. It’s Gerald. He’s—”
The call abruptly ended, and I called her back. One ring. Two. Three. Four. Five. I was already fishing the car keys out of my purse.
Gerald! So Michele was right about him after all. If he’s there with Caitlyn, what’s he doing to her? He’s got to be stopped!
I called 911, and with my phone pressed to my ear, I locked the kitchen door and got in my car as I reported an emergency at the Happy Hometown office. I told the dispatcher I suspected a woman was in danger, and she said someone was already headed there.
Why? Did Caitlyn call 911 before she called me? I sure hope so.
After clicking off the call, I cranked my car and backed out of the driveway. I was too worried to be scared about what I would find at the Happy Hometown office.
Gerald. I should never have given him the benefit of the doubt. He’d pretended to care about all the pets in Roseland, but obviously, he had little regard for human life. As I squealed away from a stop sign, I prayed that police would get there before something happened to Caitlyn.
The street in front of the building was completely deserted except for a black Malibu, maybe Caitlyn’s, two Roseland PD cars with lights flashing, and an ambulance. No lights were on in the street-level offices, but the second floor was lit up like a Christmas tree.
What’s going on?
The building’s front door was open, so I cautiously walked inside. “Hello?” I called. I felt safer knowing the police were there, but I still didn’t know what I was walking into. The crackle of a police radio came from nearby, and I spotted a uniformed officer.
“Ma’am, this building is closed right now and—”
“I’m a friend of Caitlyn Hill from the Happy Hometown office, and she just called me a few minutes ago and sounded scared. Is she okay? Have you found Gerald Adams?”
“Found him?” The officer looked confused. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Emma Madison.”
“Come with me, please.”
We walked upstairs, and Caitlyn cried out the second she saw me, “Emma! I’m so sorry I hung up in the middle of our call, but I thought Gerald was dead!”
Gerald Adams lay on his back on the floor, clutching his chest and squinting as if in pain. A paramedic wiped blood from a gash on Gerald’s forehead and said they needed to get him to the hospital.
Caitlyn looked dazed. “He’d been knocked out, so I was calling you when I heard him groan out in the hallway. I rushed over to see if he was going to make it.”
“Why is he here? And what happened?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what happened. I was up here working late, and I guess Gerald must have seen my car outside, because he called and asked if he could come up and make a copy of the minutes from our last board meeting. Since it was after hours, I went downstairs to let him in, and while he was working in the office, I asked if he would mind me running to a drive-through for some supper. When I got back just thirty minutes later, the office had been ransacked, and he was out cold on the floor out here.” She lowered her voice. “I was honestly afraid he was dead, so I’m glad he’s going to be okay.” She chewed her lip and appeared to be on the verge of a crying jag. “Just take a look in the office.”
I stuck my head in the door, and the place was utterly trashed. Chairs had been overturned, and a sea of papers and file folders littered the floor. Plaques and certificates on the wall had been smashed, and even the coffee counter had taken a hit, its mugs slung to the floor. I walked over to a framed diploma that dangled precariously on the wall, its glass cracked. It was Miranda’s diploma from Reederton Community College.
“Who would do this?” Caitlyn surveyed the destruction, clearly dismayed.
I shook my head. “I have no idea, but I’m sure the police will—”
“Caitlyn Hill?”
The familiar voice made me cringe.
Emma turned and looked at Detective Alan Shelton. “Yes, sir?”
“I’m going to need to get a statement from you.” He looked at me. “And is there any particular reason you’re here, Emma?”
I met his gaze. “I came because Caitlyn called me, and I thought she was in danger.”
He humphed. “I see. Then I guess I’ll need a statement from you too. Please have a seat in the lobby while I talk to Caitlyn.”
While I waited downstairs, I pulled out my cell phone, which I’d tucked into my coat pocket. I had a text from Jen. What’s going on at the HH office?
I wrote back, Vandalism and an attack on Gerald.
She sent back a wide-eyed emoji followed by a thumbs-up.
The paramedics came downstairs with Gerald on a stretcher, and I stayed out of their way while they carried him out the door and into the ambulance. A female paramedic told one of her colleagues that she suspected Gerald had suffered some broken ribs.
Soon, the detective sent an officer downstairs for me. When I got to the office, Caitlyn was gathering papers and file folders and plopping them onto her desk. Detective Shelton pointed at Caitlyn’s now-upright guest chair and asked me to have a seat.
“So tell me how you got involved in the evening’s events,” the detective said.
I gave him the rundown, and he wrote some notes in his pocket-sized spiral notebook. “And what was the situation when you arrived?”
“An officer asked what I was doing here, and I explained that Caitlyn had just called me, so he let me come upstairs.”
He nodded. “Anything else? Did you see anyone leaving as you were coming in?”
I shook my head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Any idea who had it in for Gerald Adams or the Happy Hometown program?”
“No, but Gerald’s on the board, you know. And so am I.”
He wrote that down.
“After Saturday, it sure looks like someone has a grudge against the Happy Hometown program. Don’t you think?”
The detective didn’t even look up from his notebook. When he did, he flipped it closed and smiled.
“Thanks for your comments, Emma.” He whispered, “Now can you help me convince Caitlyn to go home for the night?”
I nodded. When I walked over to her overflowing desk, Caitlyn looked weary.
I tapped her on the back. “Let’s call it a day, okay?”
She spread her hands over the disarray. “Look at this mess. There’s no way I can face all this in the morning and—”
“Then don’t. I’ll meet you here, and we’ll clean it up together. That’ll be safer, and we’ll both feel better after a good night’s rest.”
Reluctantly, she agreed to leave. The detective said he wanted to follow her home, which I thought was a wise move, considering. I told Caitlyn I’d meet her at the office at eight o’clock, and I couldn’t wait to get home myself. I had a lot of thinking to do.
Gerald wasn’t our killer after all, and it was time to strike him from my suspect list.