Calvin wanted to go outside and search for the person lurking in the yard, but I wouldn’t let him. It was raining buckets, and my electricity was still out. I’d found some candles and set them around the living room, creating a romantic, if spooky, atmosphere.
“Come and sit down,” I urged, patting the sofa next to me. “I’m sure whoever it was is long gone by now.” The sight had been startling for sure. But, in retrospect, maybe it wasn’t as sinister as all that. From the glimpse I’d had, it seemed the person was wearing a raincoat and a sou’wester, like some kind of harmless fisherman.
Calvin dropped the curtain he’d been holding back and moved away from the window facing the backyard. “Maybe,” he said. “But the storm didn’t stop them from being out there in the first place. It could have been a Peeping Tom.”
“It was probably just one of my neighbors,” I said, trying to sound confident. “Or somebody looking for their dog or chasing something that had blown away in the wind.” Those were plausible explanations, I thought. Though I could very well be trying to convince myself as much as Calvin.
He slowly lowered himself onto the couch and reached down to pet Gus, who was hiding under the coffee table. “Your doors are all locked, right?” asked Calvin.
“Yes, of course. I always keep them locked.”
“And your windows?”
“Yeah, I think—”
A loud knock on the front door made me forget what I was going to say. Calvin hopped up and moved to look out the peephole. I followed, standing close behind him.
“Oh,” he said, relaxing his shoulders.
“Who is it?” I whispered.
He unlocked the door and threw it open to reveal my family—Mom, Dad, and Rocky—huddled under one large golf umbrella on my front stoop. They all appeared startled to see Calvin. He stood back to let them come in.
“Mom! Dad! What are you doing here?”
“We’re here to check on you, what else?” said Mom, pulling off her galoshes. Dad shook the umbrella out the door before closing it. Rocky leaned down to greet Gus, who had run up to lick the rain off his bare legs. “Can you bring me a dish towel?” Mom asked.
I hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a stack of towels, then gave one to each of them.
“Hey, girlie,” said Dad, pulling me into a damp, one-armed hug. “We thought you might stop by today.”
“If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed, Mohammed has to go to the mountain,” said Mom. She moved to flick on the wall switch and found it didn’t work. “No power?”
Rocky glanced at the candles, and shot me an apologetic look. I returned the look with a smirk.
Dad glanced from me to Calvin. “I hope we weren’t interrupting something.”
“No, sir,” Calvin said quickly. “We were just talking.”
I rolled my eyes. What were we, teenagers? Granted, I couldn’t blame Calvin if he felt intimidated. As a former college football player and current health club owner, my dad cut an imposing figure. Between him and Rocky, who were both easily twice my weight, there was a lot of muscle crowding into the dollhouse. Add to that Mom’s outsized personality, and anyone on the receiving end of my family’s attention could easily feel overwhelmed.
“Did you check the fuse box?” asked Mom.
“It’s not a fuse,” I said. “It’s the storm.”
“Where’s that heavy-duty flashlight I gave you?” asked Dad.
“It’s in the closet, but I don’t think we need it,” I said. “Why don’t we all have a seat in the living room? I can sit on the floor.”
Ignoring the suggestion, my mom said, “We might have a camping lantern in the car.”
Rocky headed to the kitchen, using his phone as a flashlight. “Got any of that casserole left?”
Calvin rocked back on his heels. “I should probably get going. I don’t think the rain is going to let up for a while.”
I threw up my hands in a gesture of defeat. Our date—if it could be called that—was over anyway. I knew my parents were here to grill me about the murder, and Calvin didn’t need to sit through that. He’d already suffered through one interrogation today.
I walked him to the door, as my parents found a flashlight and went to check my fuse box.
“Sorry about all this,” I said quietly.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” said Calvin. “I’m actually glad I’m not leaving you alone. I was starting to think I might have to sleep on your couch tonight.”
I raised my eyebrows at that, and Calvin gave an embarrassed laugh. “Not that you’re not capable of taking care of yourself. It’s just been a weird night.”
“Yeah, it has,” I agreed. Well, the last part anyway.
He opened the door, then paused and leaned down to pick up something from the doormat outside. “Did you drop this? Looks like it got stepped on and soaked.”
He handed me a bedraggled little bouquet of flowers. In the faint candlelight, they appeared to be red poppies, tied with a red string. I frowned. “How odd,” I muttered. It almost reminded me of something a child might leave on May Day, except that this was the middle of July. Perhaps it came from one of my neighbors’ grandchildren?
Calvin stepped outside and popped open his umbrella, then turned to give me a jaunty salute. “See ya tomorrow.”
I smiled, tamping down a twinge of regret. “Have a good night, Calvin.”
As I closed the door, I glanced at the poppies again. Their fragile, paperlike petals were soaked and crumpled, and many of their curly stems were broken. What a shame. I took them to the kitchen and tossed them in the trash can, before joining my family in the living room.
The rain had tapered to a gentle shower by the time I finally crawled into bed. My family had stayed until eleven, when the electricity finally came back on. In that time, my mom called the power company twice, my dad fixed a leaky faucet in the dark, and my brother finished off the casserole. It was like I’d never left home.
Of course, we’d also talked about the murder. Mom was adamant that the incident would be terrible for business. She advised that I most definitely should postpone the café opening. Dad bemoaned the fact that his pal Walt Walden wasn’t back on duty yet as the Chief of Police. He figured Walt would give him progress updates on the investigation. Dad wasn’t sure what he thought of the acting chief. He thought she might feel as if she had something to prove, this being her first big case and all. I hadn’t even thought of that—and wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Mostly, though, my family was worried that the killer was still at large.
“The suspect list must be pretty small, huh?” said Rocky. “There weren’t a lot of people at Flower House at the time, were there?”
“More than usual, actually,” I said.
Mom paused in her pacing. She could never sit still for long. “You’re not on that suspect list, are you?”
“No,” I assured her. “I don’t think so. I haven’t been asked to come to the station for more questioning like Calvin was.” The second I said it, I wished I’d held my tongue.
Dad narrowed his dark eyebrows. “The police are interested in Calvin?”
“Maybe it’s not such a great idea to be inviting him to your home right now,” said Mom.
“You know you can be too trusting sometimes, sis,” said Rocky. The traitor.
Thinking about it now, hours later, it still raised my hackles. I’d had to both explain Calvin’s connection to the murder victim and defend him from the implications. All in the same telling. And I probably didn’t do a very good job of it.
I rolled over in bed and sighed. My folks meant well. They were just concerned about me. I could hardly fault them for that. In fact, maybe they had reason to worry. Not about Calvin, of course, but there was still a murderer out there. With a shiver, I recalled the dark figure standing outside my window. Part of me even wondered if I’d imagined it. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.
I flipped my pillow over to the cool side and closed my eyes. Listening to the patter of the rain, I eventually began to relax. After all, the evening wasn’t a complete bust. I’d enjoyed Calvin’s company while it lasted. I wonder if he had a good time. He seemed to. Under different circumstances, he might have kissed me good night. I smiled at the thought.
Then I had another recollection. Where had those poppies come from?