Pretending to be OK while there were others around, as it turned out, was far easier than actually being fine once you were alone.
Waffle watched me as I paced back and forth from the living room, into the kitchen, and back out again. “What?” I asked.
He wriggled his whiskers.
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
Waffle hopped into my path, and I stopped walking to stroke him. “Look, we’re going to have some supper together, you and I, and then we’re going to watch a true crime documentary that will distract us from the actual crime that just happened. Tomorrow, the new detective will interview me, and then the Starlight Cafe will be released to me later this week, and business will continue as usual.” I paused. “No, that’s not right. Business will be better than ever. It will be great.”
Positive talk was important. Even if it was slightly delusional positive talk.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
I wasn’t hungry in particular but it would certainly give me something to do. Rather than pacing around worrying about the future of my father’s cafe, I could stand over the sink shoving my face full of mediocre salisbury steak while worrying about the future of my father’s cafe.
A knock at the door put paid to my plans.
“Who’s there?” I called, hand on the doorknob.
A city habit. In Star Lake, people had a strange tendency to drop by whenever they liked. Knocks on the door were common.
“This is Detective Freedman. I’m working with the Brune County Sheriff’s Office,” he said. “I’m here to talk with Milly Pepper.”
Ah. So the detective had arrived. That was quick.
Then again, it wasn’t like murders were an everyday occurence in Star Lake.
I opened the door and found a man of average height, wearing a buttoned, short-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans on my porch. A lanyard with identification hung around his neck. He made a show of displaying it to me.
“Detective Freedman,” he said. “Mind if I ask you a couple of questions, Miss Pepper?”
“Sure. Come on in.” I stepped back. What was the point in saying no? It would make me look guilty, and assisting the police would help me.
“Nice place,” Freedman said, turning in a tight circle. “Cozy.”
“Or cramped,” I laughed. “Whichever you prefer.” Had my laugh sounded high-pitched there? Don’t over-analyze.
I had a problem with that. Deduction and observation got in my way.
“Can I get you something to drink, Detective?”
“Nah. I’m good. This shouldn’t take too long.” Detective Freedman took a seat in the uncomfortable armchair. He gave new meaning to the word “average”, and I wasn’t being mean in that observation.
Average height, weight, facial features. Brown hair and eyes, tanned. He would’ve fit in easily with any crowd.
I sat down on the sofa and lifted Waffle into my lap.
“A pet bunny? That’s something you don’t see everyday.”
I grinned. “His name is Waffle.”
The detective gave a shadow of a replying smile. “Right. So, I’ve been told you talked to Deputy Barker earlier today. Is that correct?”
“Yes. I tried to give him my statement, but he seemed, uh, like he didn’t want to take it.”
“Am I detecting a hint of frustration?” Freedman asked.
“No.”
“I know you used to be a police officer,” he said. “What changed?”
“That’s a personal question,” I replied. “And I don’t think it’s going to add that much to your case, Detective Freedman.” You said you’d help. “My father passed. I came here to deal with his affairs and I wound up staying.”
“Wound up.” Freedman made a note on his pad. “All right. Tell me what happened today.”
I went through what I’d heard and seen, giving as much detail as possible. I finished off by saying I’d be happy to provide whatever physical evidence was needed to clear me.
Freedman watched me carefully after I’d finished, remaining silent. “All right,” he said, “I get it. You’re willing to help. That’s good. And we might just end up scheduling a polygraph since you’re so willing to take one.”
“Great. Is there anything else I can help you with, Detective?”
Again, Freedman stared at me, and a creeping sensation came over me. A certainty that, yes, he suspected me. Even though the evidence would tell a different story. Even though, a good detective would’ve followed the trail of clues before making any deductions.
“I’m sure you’ll be able to help me in the coming days,” Freedman said. “We’ll schedule another interview soon.” He got up, tucking away his notepad and pen, then headed for the exit. He paused at the front door, looking back over his shoulder. “I think you should know, Miss Pepper, that I won’t stop until I solve this case.”
“That’s good. I’m sure that it will set everyone in Star Lake at ease to hear that. We’ve had problems with petty crime lately and—”
“And I want you to know that I firmly believe that cops who commit crimes deserve the harshest punishments. Harshest sentences.”
“What exactly are you insinuating?” I got up as well.
Detective Freedman wore a half-sneer as he studied me. “Have a good night, Miss Pepper.”