Nevermore had woken me from a sound sleep. In my tired stupor I'd accidentally, or quite subconsciously, turned off my alarm rather than hit the snooze button. Thankfully, a hungry cat could serve as an excellent back up alarm. He was quickly dismayed at me for practically throwing his cat food at him as I rushed around like a nutcase trying to get ready. I texted Ryder to let him know I was running very late. Awesome guy that he was, he texted back no hurry. He had everything under control.
Kingston hated it when I was rushing and anxious. He churned himself into his own nervous dance. His talons scraped on the top of the car seat as he moved back and forth along it, letting me know, in no uncertain terms, that I had irritated him. He was also angry that I didn't have time to cook him his usual hardboiled egg breakfast. In fact, the more I thought about it that was probably a greater source of his irritation than me rushing around with my hair on fire.
My tires chirped a little as I pulled up to the curb and parked. I opened the door and Kingston and I flew out, the bird literally and me . . . well, my arms were sort of flapping. We almost always had a morning rush, people buying flowers for coworker's birthdays, teachers, and other daily occasions that required a nice bouquet, and I felt guilty that I'd left Ryder entirely alone for the busy period. It was hard to both wait on customers and arrange the flowers.
Kingston had had enough of me. He shot straight into a tree, letting me know he had no desire to sit in the flower shop with a crazy woman.
I pulled open the door, still in a frenzied state but was immediately calmed by the sight of Ryder leaning casually over the work island, sipping a coffee and chatting with Les. The leaf and ribbon debris on the island assured me it had been a hectic morning, but, as usual, Ryder had handled it all with ease.
"Oh my gosh, what will I ever do without you, Ryder?" I said as I hurried past to put my things in the office. "Morning, Les," I added as I disappeared around the corner.
"Morning, Lacey," he called back. "Brought you a gingerbread latte to try. It looks as if you might need it."
I shoved my purse in the cupboard and a carton of yogurt in the mini office fridge, then raced back out to the comfort of my gingerbread latte. I grabbed it and took a sip. Instantly, all the anxiety of the morning melted away. "Hmm, Les, this is wonderful. Transports me right to a holiday morning, cozy in my pajamas and sitting by the tree. You are a lifesaver." I pointed at Ryder. "And so are you, you terrific, wonderful, amazing assistant."
"You forgot talented, handsome and, uh, a pretty good skateboarder," Ryder said.
"And I'm sure there are at least a dozen other appropriate accolades, but my head is still too foggy to come up with them."
Les pushed the sleeve of his sweater up. "I take it you were out late investigating the murder."
I lowered my coffee cup. "You know about it?" I asked, stunned that the news had traveled so fast.
"Sure. That's the nice thing about owning a coffee shop," Les said. "You get to hear all the latest news as early as five in the morning. Customers from Chesterton were all a twitter about the murder at the Palmer house. Gunshots, death, a mysterious new stranger, intrigue, all the stuff to make a morning over coffee cups that much more enjoyable."
"I suppose all the police activity in such a quiet neighborhood doesn't go unnoticed. I'll clean up from the morning, Ryder. You take a break." I started cleaning the work island.
"Is it true the victim was Kate's new boyfriend, the rich guy with the expensive car?" Ryder asked. He hopped on a stool to take a much deserved rest.
"It's true. Has anyone seen her? I was in such a hurry this morning I didn't even glance at her shop when I drove past."
Ryder looked at Les and they both shook their heads. "She hasn't been in for her usual coffee," Les said. "Which reminds me, I own a coffee shop. Better get back."
"How is the new barista working out?" I asked. Lester was much less picky about his workers than his sister, Elsie, but he occasionally hired people too fast and then regretted it later. This time it was a young man who was just starting city college. He seemed bright and nice.
"He's great so far. No complaints but we'll see. The good ones usually move on quickly." Les walked out and popped back in. "I see a certain detective heading this way." The door shut and he headed back to the coffee shop.
"I wonder if James is feeling as groggy as me. I think he dropped me off home just before five in the morning."
"Jeez, no wonder you overslept. You hardly had any time in bed," Ryder noted. "I've got to take a bunch of potted herbs down to the Corner Market. Tom and Gigi wanted some sage and thyme to place with their Thanksgiving display. I've already put them in my car. Do you need anything while I'm down there?"
I'd heard most of what he said, but things were still processing slowly. "How about a clear head? Preferably one that got a few hours more sleep."
"I'll see what Gigi has in her clear head aisle. Too bad the Uptons don't sell those smelling salts they used to use in the nineteenth century to arouse a woman who had swooned. With your nose, one whiff could probably send you straight to the moon." He laughed at his theory as he headed out the door.
Just as Les had mentioned, the bell rang and a certain detective walked inside. He looked far more awake than I felt. He was back to a tie and buttoned shirtsleeves.
"I found myself drifting off over paperwork, so I decided to take a brisk walk down the street to visit my favorite florist." He instinctively walked to Kingston's perch but was just out of it enough to not notice it was bird-less. He stared at the empty perch. "There's no bird." He pointed at Kingston's favorite end, then turned back to me. "There is usually a pushy bird standing right here. Unless I've been imagining it all this time. Which might be the case."
He seemed to catch me standing in somewhat of a daze with a dust broom in my hand and headed across the shop to me. He took the broom from my hand, placed it on the counter and pulled me into an embrace. "I saw Ryder leaving so I'm taking advantage." He kissed me. "That was a thank you for helping last night."
He lowered his arms, and I involuntarily sighed in disappointment. I could have just stood in his warms arms for a few hours and taken a nice nap.
"I came to fill you in on a few details about the case," he said.
"Yippee. What did you find out?"
"First, the obvious. Victim died of a gunshot to the chest. According to ballistics, the killer used a small handgun, a Glock 42, easy to hide in a purse or deep pocket. Unfortunately, there was no sign of the weapon in or around the property. Mr. Dexter, if that's his real name, died between eleven and midnight, which we already knew because that was when the neighbors called the police to report a gunshot."
"Interesting." A tap on the door signaled that my crow had returned from his tantrum. I walked to the door to let him in. "Especially the little side note you added about Lionel Dexter not being his real name," I continued.
Kingston marched in, wings tucked back, like a short, chubby man dressed in black and walking purposefully with his hands behind his back.
"That is one angry bird. What did you do to the poor guy this morning?" Briggs circled around to the treat can, hoping to win some favors with the bird while he was still mad at me.
"I accidentally turned off the alarm. If Never hadn't swatted my cheek with his paw, demanding to be fed, I might very well still be curled up under my quilt dreaming of Elsie's sweet cakes and my boyfriend's even sweeter kisses."
"Glad to know my kisses are swirling around in there between strawberry buttercream and German chocolate. Anyhow, the reason for my side note is that when we looked to notify next of kin for Mr. Dexter, we couldn't find anyone. He seems to have no connection to the outside world, which usually means he was running under a fake name. Which makes this next detail more plausible but equally stunning. The Palmer house is still in a huge probate struggle between family members. It was never sold. Mr. Dexter never purchased the property."
My hand flew to my chest. "He was just squatting there? Guess that explains the lack of furniture."
"It might also explain why the back door was broken," Briggs noted. "And why he left the front door unlocked. He had no keys."
"Of course that all makes sense. Oh my gosh, Kate is going to hate to hear all this. She went on at length about his wealth. What about the Porsche?" I asked.
He nodded. "He had leased it from a dealer under the name Lionel Dexter. Apparently, he had the required fifteen thousand for the down payment on the lease. So they were eager to hand him a contract. But he paid the deposit in cash, according to the dealership. However, he was already late on his first lease payment."
"I suppose that's not too surprising." I picked my hand broom back up and began sweeping leaf and stem litter into a dustpan. "What's next on our investigative list?" I asked with enough enthusiasm to assure him I wanted to be included on all of it.
He couldn't hold back a grin. "I've got a few things to do, but I'm planning to go interview some of the neighbors." He pulled out the evidence bag with the necklace. "I'm heading across to Lola's right now to get a positive identification on this necklace. Because I have to cross all my t's," he said quickly before I could assure him I was right. "But if you can get away after lunch, you can go with me on the interviews."
"And the woman on the boat, with the pink cocktail?" I asked.
He headed to the door. "She's on the list to be talked to. The boat is still in the slip, but there wasn't anyone on board this morning. I'll text you when I'm ready to head to Chesterton. Unless I fall asleep on my desk, which might very well happen."