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My phone rang at eight-thirty Monday morning, just as I was heading out the door to get fingerprinted. I glanced at my phone’s screen and sighed. My mother was calling. It was a little too early to deal with her shenanigans, but just in case it was some sort of emergency, I answered anyway.
“Bryony, I need you to come in this morning,” she said, sounding harried. “Viki called overnight and left a message on the shop’s voicemail. She’s not coming in today either, and Monday is one of our busiest days.”
“Mom, you do realize that I have my own business to run?”
“Yes, dear. I’m aware of that. But can’t Bekah open the shop? I’ll only need you until about two this afternoon. After that, Stephen’s coming in.”
“Why don’t you ask him to come in now? He’s seventeen. He’s saving up for a car, and if he’s anything like his parents, he’ll jump at the chance to pick up extra hours.”
“Well, all right. But it’s summer vacation, isn’t it? What teenaged boy would rather work than spend time with his friends?”
“One who wants his own car. Trust me, Mom. Call him. He’ll come in.” I paused for a moment and then added, “If he can’t, let me know and I’ll figure something out with Bekah. Okay?”
“Yes,” Mom answered, sounding more upbeat now. “That’s wonderful. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.” I hung up and headed out to the car.
I made it to the sheriff’s station at nine o’clock. I was a little disappointed to learn that Dean wasn’t in the office, but I chatted briefly with one of his deputies as she rolled my fingertips across a digital reader. I was in and out in less than half an hour, which was a good thing. I had two patients to see that morning, and I didn’t want them waiting for long.
As I drove to Sage Wisdom from the station, my phone rang. I don’t pick up while I’m driving—I did that once and nearly ran down my neighbor’s dog—so I let the call go to voicemail. The phone rang twice more in the five minutes it took me to get to the shop. Once I’d parked and gone inside, I looked at the call longs. They were all from a local number I didn’t recognize. At least they’d left a voicemail. As I ran through the shop’s opening procedures, I listened to the message.
“Bryony? It’s Viki. Childress. You’re friendly with Sheriff Jensen, right? Um. Do you think you could introduce us? I... um... I sorta need to talk with him. Call me back, or maybe just let him know that I’d like to talk to him. Thanks.” I heard a male voice as the message cut off, but I couldn’t make out who was speaking or what was being said.
I frowned and stared at the phone in confusion. Viki needed to talk to Dean? I wondered what about. Maybe she knew who had killed Barry. Maybe she killed Barry. I dialed the number and waited through six rings. I got Viki’s voice mail. “Hi, Viki,” I said. “It’s Bryony Taylor. I’ll definitely pass on your message to Dean, uh, Sheriff Jensen, I mean. But you can also call him, too. Just call the station and ask to speak to him. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you. Hope you’re feeling better.”
I hung up, phoned Dean and left a message on his cell phone, telling him to get in touch with Viki and left her number. Then I greeted my first patient, Luke Williams, owner of the local hardware store and Lorelei’s husband. He’d been coming to see me for a year or so about a nasty case of psoriasis along the hairline at the nape of his neck. We were treating it with thrice-daily applications of a topical ointment made with ti-tree oil, mahonia aquifolium, and aloe vera. He was also taking two grams of turmeric a day in capsule form; he hated curry, which was the way I suggested he take it. The treatment seemed to be working well, though he did have the occasional flare-ups.
After I sent Luke away with more pills and more ointment, I helped Bekah with more preparation for her exams. I also tried to phone Viki a couple more times, leaving a message for her each time. During the afternoon, the retail part of the shop was busy. I barely had time to sit down and relax a bit before closing. At six o’clock, I shut off the lights in the front half of the store and counted out the register before taking the deposit bag back to my office in the back and making up the deposit slip to take to the bank in the morning. Then I finished the closing procedure—restocking the shelves and doing a quick and dirty inventory so I could bring supplies from home to replace what we were out of or low on.
At twenty minutes after six, my cell rang. “I’m worried about Viki,” Mom said.
“Me, too. She called me this morning, asking if I would have Dean call her. But I haven’t heard from either of them all day. Have you heard from her?”
“No. I’ve tried throughout the day but haven’t been able to speak to her at all. I’m worried. Would you mind going over to check on her? Didn’t you say you had some tea for her?”
“Yes. I’ll drop it off and check on her tonight before I go home.”
“Thank you, darling. Call me once you get home.”
I promised that I would and hung up. I stuffed the deposit bag into my purse, made sure the tea I’d made for Viki was still there as well, and headed out into the employee parking lot in the back. Before I could climb behind the wheel, however, I heard my name being called.
I glanced up and spotted Jennifer in the lot behind her shop, Shoomaker’s Ice Cream & Soda. She was waving me over. I reluctantly crossed the pavement, knowing that Jennifer most likely wanted to grill me about either the investigation or my relationship status with Dean. Or both.
“Hi. What do you want?” I said.
“Nice to see you, too, bestie,” she said with a good-natured smile. “Gotta date tonight?”
I let out a sigh that was almost a growl. “Nope. I’m going to check on Viki.”
Jennifer’s face fell, and she shook her head sadly. “Stephen said she called in again. Is Glynis worried?”
“Yeah. I am, too, honestly.”
“Want some cocoa to fortify yourself before you head over?
“Sure.” I followed her into her shop. Shoomaker’s was an institution in the tiny village. It’d first opened a year after Taylor & Sons had, but the original owner died fifteen years ago, which was when Jen picked it up for a song from the man’s daughter. It was a classic 1950s-era soda shop with red plaster on the walls and black and white tile on floors. Seating was at chrome and vinyl booths lining the exterior walls, small round tables in the center of the dining area, or on red vinyl stools at the long counter in the back. There was a jukebox at each booth loaded with 1950s rock and roll for a nickel a play, and the stools at the counter-rotated all the way around. Swan-neck soda taps were clustered together in the center of the counter across from the wide front doors. It always smelled heavenly in Shoomaker’s, a delicious combination of sugar, french fries, and cinnamon.
I sat on one of the stools and swung it from side to side as I watched Jennifer move around behind the counter fixing one of her special Mexican hot cocoas. It was a standard hot chocolate with an added dash of cayenne pepper and cinnamon. It was one of my favorite things to drink, regardless of the time of year. “Make one for Viki, too, please?”
“Of course,” Jennifer said. “But only if you promise to ask Dean to the dance next Saturday at some point tonight.”
“Fine. But only because it’s something I want, too.”
“Good girl.” Jennifer pushed two large to-go cups across the counter. “Call me tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I will. Thanks.” I gave my best friend a smile before heading back out to my car. I tried to remember where, exactly, Viki lived. I knew it was out by the lake, probably on Bellflower Lane. “Oh, right,” I said to myself as I started the Ghia. “In that triplex. I remember.”
I called Viki once more time before driving out of the lot. She still wasn’t answering, but I didn’t let that stay me. I was officially very worried about her. Ten minutes later, I pulled onto Bellflower, peering through the falling darkness toward the end of the street. Ahead of me, where the street dead-ended, was a yellow triplex. The middle and right units had messy yards and cars up on block, but the one on the left was neat and tidy, with a small flower garden at the curb and several potted plants on the small stoop. I pulled in behind Viki’s little Honda hatchback, which was parked in the farthest left drive, and shut off the engine. The night was so silent, I could hear the pinging of the Ghia’s engine as it cooled and the sound of night birds in the woods surrounding me.
I climbed out of the car and went towards Viki’s front door, noticing that all the lights inside were off. Even the porch light was off. I wondered if she wasn’t home as I rang her doorbell. Maybe she was out with her boyfriend, or maybe she was asleep.
I waited for a few more moments in silence before ringing the bell again. There were no noises from inside—not a radio or TV, no voices, not even creaking floorboards indicating that someone was coming to the door. I rang the bell a third time, then turned and looked around me. The other houses on the street had porch lights lit, and I could see people moving around inside, having dinner, watching TV, reading by their fires.
I hugged myself tighter to ward off a sudden chill. The wind picked up, sweeping pine tree pollen off the roof of the building and sending it in swirls down to the ground. I shivered, thankful for the light sweater I was wearing.
“Oh, what the heck,” I said, stepping off the front stoop and going around to the back of the house. I couldn’t help but think that maybe Viki was sick or injured. I couldn’t just leave without making sure that she was okay.
I rounded the corner of her house and came to a halt. The sliding glass door that led from Viki’s kitchen into the small backyard was open, and through it, I could see Viki’s prone body. A black-handled knife was stuck in her chest, and the floor surrounding her was covered in a pool of blood.
I clamped my hand over my mouth and tried to slow my breathing. I swayed on my feet and sat down on the ground hard. I heard a strange mewling sound and realized belatedly that it was me making that sound. “Get a grip on yourself,” I said, shaking my head to clear it. I climbed to my feet and went into Viki’s kitchen.
I carefully knelt next to her and pressed my fingers against her neck. Her skin was cold and rubbery. There was no pulse under my fingertips. “Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head in denial. I rushed outside and threw up in a bed of cheerful, coral-color impatiens. “No, no, no,” I moaned as I dug in my purse and pulled out a tissue to wipe my mouth.
Then I dialed Dean’s number. This was beginning to be a theme in my life. What had I gotten myself into? As soon as Dean answered, I said, “I need you again.”
“What have you done now?” He sounded irritated.
“I’m at Viki’s house. She didn’t go to work again today, and my mom sent me to check on her, and she’s dead. Someone stabbed her. In her kitchen. Which is a funny thing to say. Where’s the kitchen on your body? I guess in this case it’s her chest. There’s a huge knife—”
“Bryony! Stop talking!”
“I’m sorry.” I started sobbing and barely made out Dean saying that he’d be there in a few minutes. He hung up and dropped the phone, my fingers suddenly numb. I sat down again and used another tissue to dry my face.
I was still sitting in Viki’s backyard, crying and blowing my nose when Dean appeared moments later. He stood over me for a moment, his eyes going from annoyed to compassionate in a heartbeat. “Show me,” he said, his voice gentle. I pointed across the yard to the sliding glass door. Dean turned away and went inside, kneeling as I did to feel for a pulse. He straightened and shook his head. Then he stepped back outside and keyed his shoulder-mounted mic on. “Thirty-nine Adam two to thirty-nine dispatch. Over.”
“Thirty-nine dispatch. What’s up, Sheriff? Over.”
“I need thirty-nine Adam five and six and Doc Hutchins at Viki Childress’s place, 325 Bellflower Lane. I also need the crime scene kit. Over.”
“Roger, thirty-nine Adam two. Sending McGill, Nichols, and Hutchins to 325 Bellflower Lane. Over.”
Dean switched off his mic and hunkered down next to me. He reached out and cupped my cheek gently, his green eyes searching my face. “Are you okay?” he asked in a soft voice.
I shook my head. I felt a little lightheaded and more than a little nauseated. Dean’s voice sounded very far away, and I realized that I’d almost fainted. I peered up at him and blinked. He was gripping my arms. There were deep furrows across his forehead, and his eyes were dark with concern.
“Are you okay?” he asked again. “Bryony? Do you need an ambulance?”
“No. I’m... I’m okay.” I stood up, taking the hand Dean offered me, and was glad my knees were solid and my legs weren’t rubbery. I looked up at Dean, locking my gaze on his. “She was murdered.”
“Yes. Stabbed at least once. Are you okay to go home?”
“Yes, I think so. I... I need to call my mom.”
“Alright. I’m going to be busy for a while. Otherwise, I’d drive you home.” Dean paused for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought.
“Wait,” I said, reaching out to take hold of his arm. “She called me this morning. On my way to work. I didn’t answer because I was driving, but she called three or four times in a row.”
“Did you ever talk to her?”
“No. But she left a message. She said that she wanted to talk to you, and would I pass on the message. I called her back and said she could just call you directly. She didn’t, did she?”
Dean shook his head and looked away toward the end of the street. “She didn’t.” He looked back at me. “Why did she want to talk to me?”
“I have no idea. She didn’t say. There was another voice in the background. A man’s voice. I didn’t recognize it, nor could I make out what he was saying.”
“Huh. Okay.” He looked down at me, studying my face with an intensity that made me nervous. “You’re really okay?”
“Yes, Dean. I’m okay.”
He nodded. “Will you do me a favor?”
“Of course.”
“Will you stop off at the bookshop to get Viki’s emergency contact information?”
“Yeah. I could do that. No problem.”
“Thanks,” he said with a heart-stopping smile. “Drop it off at the station when you get it, then head home. I’ll give you a call in the morning, okay?”
I nodded and stepped away, watching as Dean began working. A few moments later, two sheriff's cruisers pulled up with Doc’s hearse following. The deputies nodded at me and went around the house to the backyard. Doc paused for a moment at my side, his eyes narrowed.
“You alright, kiddo?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I gave him a wavering smile.
“Well, I suppose you’d know best, being a medical professional. But promise me you’ll go to the clinic in Idaho Springs if you notice anything weird.”
“Weird?” I asked.
“Palpitations, sleeplessness, nausea, dizziness. You know, all the signs of shock or trauma.”
I smiled and gave Doc a quick hug. “I promise.”
“Good girl. Give my regards to your mother?”
“I will.” I smiled at Doc, then drove back to the shop, arriving at the curb a few moments later. I unlocked the shop door and went to Mom’s office in the back. I sat down hard in her chair and pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to stop a sudden flood of tears. Viki was not a nice person. She was short with the customers, sarcastic and passive-aggressive with Mom, and down-right mean to me. But she was still a person, and I felt awful that she was dead. Viki couldn’t have been more than twenty-five years old. She was so young.
With a heavy sigh, I picked up the phone and dialed Mom’s home number. She answered on the second ring.
“Bryony? What are you doing in the shop?”
“Oh, Mom,” I said, my voice tight, constricted by the effort of trying not to cry. “It’s Viki... She’s... She’s dead.”
“What? No! Bryony, this is not a funny joke.”
“It’s not a joke, Mom. I wouldn’t kid about that.”
“What happened?” I could hear the tears in her voice, which broke down my own defenses. We cried together on the phone for a few moments before I gathered myself together and explained what had happened after I’d left the shop earlier.
“Stabbed? How awful.” I listened to Mom blow her nose.
“Yeah.” I swallowed and grabbed a tissue from the box on the corner of the desk to dab at my eyes. “Dean asked me to get her emergency contact information. Is it in her file here?”
“Yes. In the top drawer of the cabinet right behind my desk.”
“Okay. I’m going to take it over to the sheriff's station on my way home.”
“Thank you, Bryony. Would you also put a sign up on the front door of the shop? Something about being temporarily closed. I just... I can’t even think about opening up tomorrow.”
“I understand. I’ll take care of the sign. Do you want me to come over tonight?”
“No, sweetheart. I’ll be okay. You’ve had quite a day. Go on home and get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow morning.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hung up and dug out Viki’s employment file. I saw that Viki’s emergency contact was her mother in Fort Collins. I felt a pang of sympathy for Mrs. Childress and hoped she had someone with her when she received the call later that night.
After leaving the office, I paused at the counter to make up a quick sign stating that the shop would be temporarily closed then taped it up in the window on the front doors. I left the shop and locked up before crossing the street to Barry’s building. I wanted to check on Lily before I headed home.
I felt eyes on me and glanced around at the surrounding buildings. There were lights on in the apartments over the shops, but they were all covered. No one twitched aside the curtains to watch me, and I didn’t see anyone on the streets. I shuddered and chalked it up to the lingering aftermath of finding Viki.
Inside Barry’s apartment, it appeared that no one had come to claim Lily, so I gathered up her food and water bowls, plus her canned food and kibble, litter and her box, and carried them out to my car. Then I dug through Barry’s closest and found a cat carrier. I laid a towel down on the bottom of the carrier and coaxed her into it, then carried her downstairs and put her on the passenger seat. I drove to the sheriff's station, which was located next to the City-County Building, listening to her complaining the entire way.
Once inside, I waited at the watch commander’s desk as he tracked down one of the deputies so I could hand over Viki’s information. I spotted Doc Hutchins coming through the station’s front doors and smiled when he spotted me.
“Heckuva night, eh?” he said by way of a greeting.
I nodded. “Yeah. It’s just so... Awful. Can you... Can you tell me anything about Viki?”
Doc said before clearing his throat. His voice took on an official tone as he spoke. “She’s been dead about nine hours or so. She was stabbed once in the chest. There were no hesitation marks, and although she’ll be autopsied later this week down in Golden, my official report will state that I believe she was murdered, and it wasn’t a crime of passion.”
“What does that mean?”
“Whoever killed her knew what he—or she—was doing. Once stab wound was all I found in my initial investigation. I believe that’s what the CBI’s final report will say, too.”
I sighed softly, saddened even more by Doc’s findings. “Thanks, Doc.”
“You’re welcome, Bryony. Go home, take a hot bath, maybe have a stiff drink, and get some sleep. And don’t be too stubborn to go to the clinic. Your mother needs you. The town needs you.” The mortician gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder before bustling off into the back of the station.
Deputy McGill finally appeared and took Viki’s employment file. I left and headed home and carefully introduced Lily to my household. I set up her box and bowls in the upstairs guest bathroom and found an old, soft blanket to make a bed for her. Beryl hissed and yowled angrily at her, but Lily paid him no mind, sniffing curiously around the bathroom before settling down on the blanket. I smiled, and I did as Doc recommended, falling into bed after a bath and a cup of tea. Beryl spent most of the night yowling at the bathroom door.