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I stopped at the Red Dragon for take-out in honor of Barry and headed home to my hundred-and-fifty-year-old house, located halfway up Mount Saxon on four acres carved out of the thick forest. It had been built fifteen years after Saxon Lake was founded during the Colorado Gold Rush. Although gold had never been found in the hills or streams surrounding Saxon Lake, silver had. That precious metal sustained our little village for almost thirty years before the flow dried up and the town went bust. Saxon Lake struggled to survive for the next fifty years until skiing became the new gold in the Rockies, and tourists discovered that Saxon Lake was perfect for après-ski parties before returning to Denver. It was just such a party that had brought Jakob Jørgensen and his late wife Inger to Saxon Lake.
My Italianate house had been run-down and in danger of being condemned when I bought it ten years ago, but I’d been determined to bring it back to its former glory. I’d dumped a lot of money into it, and as a result, the National Register of Historic Places had given me a plaque that hung on the outside wall next to my front door. Dan Kessler, Hannah’s father and director of the local history museum, had taken photographs during my renovations and put them on the museum’s website. He had later informed me that the page on which my house appeared had the highest number of visitors of any of the historic properties featured on the site.
After changing my clothes and leaving my take-out on the kitchen table, I headed to the chicken coop to check on my girls and then to the goat shed to check on Daffodil and Tulip. They were all happy and safely tucked up in their beds. I milked the goats and stored the buckets in the dairy shed until I’d have time to use it in one of the lotions or soaps I sold in my shop.
I ate after checking on the animals. Beryl, so named for his amazing blue eyes, sat on the chair next to me, staring at me, watching my every move. I passed him a piece of orange beef, at which he turned his nose up before leaving the kitchen. “Silly cat,” I called after him. “Why were you begging if you knew you wouldn’t eat whatever I offered you? Because he’s a cat,” I muttered to myself.
When I’d finished most of my food, I went into my living room and dug the scone out of my purse. It had crumbled a bit and was sort of stale, but it was still delicious. I made some Earl Grey and curled up in front of a fire with the newest Nancy Atherton novel, my tea, and the scone. Despite it being summer, the mountains got cold at night, and I was grateful for the fire.
I went to bed soon after. My dreams were haunted by the look on Barry’s face as he died, and I woke before my alarm went off, covered in sweat. Knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep again, I got up and showered, breakfasted, and got to work on my farm chores.
I spent the next few hours collecting eggs from the chickens and turning them out into the apple orchard for the day. Then I milked Daffodil and Tulip and led them into the peach orchard. After that, I weeded and harvested my extensive vegetable and herb gardens before storing the produce. Most of the vegetables went into boxes I loaded into the back of my old red farm truck, so I could take them to the local grocer’s, while most of the herbs went into the drying shed.
While I was in the drying shed, I selected some herbs to make a quick tea for Viki to help soothe any stress or anxiety she might experience in the aftermath of Barry’s death. I added dried lavender and passionflower to a base of chamomile and added a dash of peppermint. I poured the mixture into a small glass jar and took it with me into the house to set by my purse.
I called the bookshop, intending to see if I could stop by and drop off the tea and an apology to Viki later that afternoon. Mom opened the bookstore at eleven on Sundays, and a quick glance at the clock on the mantle showed me that it was just after noon.
“Good morning, Taylor and Sons.”
“Mom?” I was surprised when she answered. “Isn’t Viki supposed to work on Sundays? I wanted to drop off some tea for her.”
“Yes, but she called in sick. Who can blame her, after what she saw yesterday? Are you next door? I didn’t see your car in the lot out back.”
“No, I’m at home. I don’t usually work on Sundays.”
“Oh, thank heavens. Can you come down and help out? I’ve got to get these orders in before tomorrow morning.”
“Did you try calling Stephen?” Jennifer’s son worked at the bookshop part time, helping out on weekends and some nights after school.
“I couldn’t reach the Baxters. They may be in Denver for the day.”
I sighed and glanced at the couch across from me. I had planned to devote my Sunday to reading and lounging with Beryl. “Well,” I said, drawing out the word as I considered. “Yeah, I guess I can come down for a while. But only until you’re done with the orders and only if you stick a Help Wanted sign in the front window.”
“Deal. You’re an angel,” Mom said. “See you in a few!” She hung up before I could say anything further.
After giving Beryl, who was curled up in a sunbeam on the couch, a belly rub and an ear scratch or two, I gathered my purse, the jar of tea, and my car keys and drove down to the Jørgensen Building. I parked in the back, where there were a private lot and a door that led into the bookstore’s break room. I tried the knob, but the door was locked. I pounded on the door for a good five minutes before Mom came and opened it.
“I thought you’d come through the front door,” she said once she saw my look of annoyance. She ushered me inside and then locked the door behind her.
“You heard me say that I was at home, right?”
“Yes. But I—”
“Why would I park on the street when there’s this huge lot back here?”
“I don’t know. I’m all mixed up today. This horrible situation has my head spinning.”
I gave Mom a light squeeze and looped my arm through hers as we went back onto the sales floor. “I know. But you should try not to let it bother you so much. Dean’s on the case.”
Mom glanced askance at me and smiled a little. “Dean, huh? You always did have a crush on him.”
I rolled my eyes and fished beneath the register for the name tag Mom had made for me years ago. I found it and attached it to my shirt. “I’m a grown woman, Mother. I do not have crushes anymore.”
“Right. Well, I’ll be in my office if you need anything. It shouldn’t take but an hour or two.”
“I got this. Go do your ordering.” I shooed Mom away and then looked around for something to do until there were customers to help. I straightened shelves, restocked books that had been returned, dusted displays, and neatened the magazine and postcard racks. Then there was an influx of customers, and I found myself running back and forth between the register and the stacks, showing people where books were located, ringing up sales, and answering questions. The biggest thing on everyone’s mind was the recent murder. All the customers seemed to believe that because I had been there, I had some secret knowledge that no one else but the sheriff’s department was privy to.
After the fifth time of reassuring someone that I didn’t know anything more than they did about Barry’s death, I was rescued by Mom, who had finished her orders and had come to take over the register.
“Would you mind staying until closing?” Mom asked. Hesitation was obvious in her tone. She knew I had plans.
“Mom,” I said, drawing out the word and coloring it with just a hint of frustration. I really wanted to go home, drink tea, read a book, and occasionally annoy Beryl by grabbing a handful of his thick, luxuriant fur and tugging it gently. I pursed my lips in thought but soon relented. Mom was nearing seventy and racing around the store probably wasn’t good for her. “Fine. I’ll stay. But you have to promise to put that sign out right now.”
“I already took care of that.” Mom grinned and pointed to the Help Wanted sign in the window. She took up a spot behind the counter, leaving me to work the sales floor.
Business was hopping until closing. After Mom flipped the sign on the door from Open to Closed, I helped her count the drawers, bag up the money, and straighten the store. As she shut off the lights on the sales floor, I glanced across the street to the building that Barry owned. His law offices were on the bottom floor, and he had converted the two upper floors to eight apartments. He lived in one on the third floor.
“Does Barry have a pet?” I asked Mom as we walked back into the office and got ready to leave.
“He’s got a cat. Why do you ask?”
“Is anyone taking care of it?”
Mom gasped, and tears filled her eyes. “Oh, no. I hadn’t thought of that. That poor baby.” She dug in her purse and pulled out a single key on a chain. “Can you go over and take care of her? Her name’s Lily. She’s very sweet. I would do it myself, but—”
“I know. You’re allergic.” I took the key from her and followed her outside into the back lot.
She paused by her car and hugged me tightly. “You’re a blessing, Bryony Elizabeth. Call me when you get home.”
“I will, Mama.” I kissed her cheek and slid behind the wheel of the Ghia. I left the lot and parked in front of Barry’s building. Using his key, I let myself into the tiny foyer of the building and then scaled the three flights of stairs to Barry’s apartment.
It was dark and cold inside, and there was the strongest smell of cat pee wafting from the room. I reached to flip the light on, and the combination kitchen-dining room-living room was flooded with light. A tiny white cat with one yellow eye and one blue eye peered up at me from her spot on the couch. She made a little trilling sound and hopped down, her tail stuck straight up in the air as she approached me.
“Hello, sweetheart,” I said as I hunkered down to pick her up. She went limp as I cradled her in my arms, a funny purr escaping her throat as I scratched the top of her head and snuggled her close. “Let’s get you some food and water and clean your box. Sound good?”
I set Lily carefully back on the floor and began investigating Barry’s kitchen cupboards, looking for cat food and kibble. I found a can of Tuna Delight and scooped it out onto a plate. Lily stuck her face under my hand as I was still scooping and got a glob of food on her nose. I laughed as I watched her clean it off and then as she devoured the rest of what was on the plate. Then I refilled both her kibble bowl and her water bowl before heading into the bedroom, where her box seemed to be.
I found it in Barry’s large walk-in closet. It was overflowing, making me think Barry didn’t clean it as often as he should. I wrinkled my nose in distaste and emptied all the litter into a garbage bag, then washed and rinsed the box itself in the bathtub before refilling it and putting it back into the closet. A few moments later, Lily was digging around in it, and I smiled. There was nothing like a clean toilet.
Giving the cat some privacy, I returned to the living room and looked around. There was a potted pothos vine on a small desk against the windows that faced the street. I went over to it and stuck my finger in the pot. It was bone dry. “Poor dude,” I said to the plant. As I was turning away to get some water, a letter on Barry’s desk caught my eye.
I picked it up, vaguely aware of the fact that I was probably doing something illegal, especially if this was a document having to do with one of Barry’s cases. I scanned the computer-printed note quickly and gasped out loud when I got to the end. I went back to the beginning and read more carefully.
“You missed your last payment,” I read. “I warned you what would happen if you miss a payment. Don’t miss it again or I’ll expose your secrets to the whole town. Now you have to pay more. $5,000 in the usual place by 5 pm next Wednesday.”
I blinked in shock. Someone was blackmailing Barry? What secrets could he possibly have? He was such a nice guy. I stared at the note and then realized what I was doing. I dropped it as though the piece of paper had burned me and took a huge step away from the desk. I had to call Dean, had to tell him what I’d found. My fingerprints were all over the note!
With shaking hands, I dug in my purse for my cell phone and dialed Dean’s number. “Dean?” I said before he could even finish saying hello. “It’s Bryony. I need help.”
“What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“I’m at Barry’s apartment. I... I did... I found... Can you come?”
“Don’t move. I’ll be there in five minutes.” The line went dead. In the near distance, through Barry’s windows, I heard a siren. I went to the window and watched Dean pull up in front of the building, his lights flashing, siren still blaring. He jumped out of the car and dashed up the stairs. Moments later, the door to Barry’s apartment slammed open, and Dean rushed inside. His gun was drawn, though he had it down by his side, pointed at the floor. His gaze raked over me from head to toe then took in the room around us.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” he asked.
I pointed wordlessly to the note that was lying on the floor. Dean holstered his gun and picked up the note. His green eyes were flat as he scanned the note. When he was finished reading it, he looked up at me, a cold expression on his face. “What is this?” he asked, his voice hard and dangerous.
“I d-don’t... I found it. There.” I pointed to the desk.
“What are you doing here?”
“Taking care of Barry’s cat. Mom gave me the key.”
Dean took a deep breath and looked around the room again. Lily chose that moment to come out of Barry’s bedroom, holding her tail straight up and trotting over to Dean. She rubbed against his ankles and twined herself in a figure eight around his legs. “And you found this note here? On the desk?” I nodded. “Okay. Show me what you’ve touched since you first got here.”
I took him on a tour of everything I’d done since I first entered Barry’s apartment—the cupboards in the kitchen, the cat’s bowls and litter box, the faucets in the bathroom and the kitchen, the plant, and finally the desk.
“That’s it?” he asked. I didn’t like the sound of his voice. It was rough, angry, and made me a little afraid.
“That’s it,” I said, fighting back a flood of tears. “Nothing else. I haven’t been here for more than half an hour.”
“Where were you before that?”
“At the bookstore. Viki called in sick, and Mom suckered me into working her shift.”
“Viki called in sick?” Dean’s voice changed, becoming softer.
I sniffled and wiped an errant tear off my cheek. I took a deep breath and released it as I nodded. “Yeah, Mom thinks she’s still shocked by what happened yesterday.” I paused for a moment as a thought struck me. “I’ll bet Viki received one of these notes, too!” I said. “Maybe that’s why she was so surprised by Barry’s death. Maybe she didn’t pay and was expecting something bad to happen to her.”
“Maybe. But if that’s the case, why didn’t either of them report this to me?”
“Probably because they were warned not to. Or maybe they were too afraid to. I mean, if you’ve done something awful enough to be blackmailed for, wouldn’t you be afraid to go to the police about it? What if you wound up in jail yourself?”
“Well, then you wouldn’t have to worry about being blackmailed, would you?”
“I suppose you’re right about that.” He took an evidence bag out of the back pocket of his pants and slipped the note into it. Then he sealed it and scribbled something on the front of it using a pen he took off Barry’s desk. He stuffed the evidence bag into his pocket and fixed me with an indecipherable look. “Are you okay to drive home?” he asked, his tone careful.
I nodded and wiped my cheeks again. “Yeah. I’m fine. Do you... Do you need my fingerprints or something?”
“You can come down to the station tomorrow. Go home now, get some sleep.” He gave me an awkward smile and then glanced down at Lily, who was stretched out at his feet. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”
“Now that she’s got food and water and a clean box, she should be,” I answered, relieved to have a neutral topic of conversation. I knew I’d never forget that cold, calculating look Dean had given me after he finished reading the note, nor the anger in his voice. “I’ll check on her again tomorrow. If that’s okay?”
“Yeah. That’s fine. See you in the morning.”
I nodded and pushed past him. I didn’t remember leaving Barry’s building or most of the drive home. Once I was inside my house, I found Beryl and picked him up. He normally hated being held, but he didn’t fight me this time. He even cuddled close once I was in bed. I had a hard time falling asleep, but at least his loud, constant purring helped me stay relaxed until I finally drifted off.