Chapter 26
Lolly was the first one into my shop after I turned the CLOSED sign to OPEN. One of her signature pink aprons was tied around her waist and a smudge of chocolate accented her rosy left cheek. The ruffle-edged aprons, available in every pastel of the color wheel, sold almost as well as her fudge. Seeing her in the apron was usually enough to make my mouth start watering for her candy. Pavlov would have loved me. But that day, not even my favorite fudge would have cheered me up. My trip to Westfield’s office hadn’t netted me much more than his irritation and possibly an order of protection against me. Although he’d confirmed my guess as to why he moved his family up to Schuyler County, there was a good chance he said the first thing that popped into his mind in order to get rid of me. And now, in the spirit of my partnership with Travis, I would have to tell him about it. I shoved my misery to the back of my mind to stew and dredged up a smile for Lolly.
Sashkatu had barely installed himself on his windowsill throne, but when he saw her come in he didn’t waste any time trotting back down his stairway and executing a small leap onto the counter to greet her. They shared a brief session of scratches and cuddles while he licked at the candy on her cheek. He’d always had a soft spot for her, or maybe it was a sweet spot.
“You smell like chocolate,” I said appreciatively. “You must be making candy day and night.” I couldn’t imagine how else she kept her display cases full. Her shop drew the largest number of customers by far.
She smoothed back the wisps of hair that had sprung free of her bun. “I think I’ve even been making chocolate in my sleep. This time of year it’s hard to keep the supply equal to the demand.”
“Then I’d better get you right back to work or my life will be forfeit when the fudge runs out. What can I do for you?”
She laughed. “Not to worry. I’ve been meaning to come talk to you, but then I get busy and forget. Mind if I park myself in that chair? I’ve been on my feet for hours.”
“That’s why it’s here.” How had Morgana and Bronwen managed without a chair all those years? It was fast becoming the most popular item in the shop. As soon as Lolly settled herself there, Sashkatu joined her, curling into a ball in her well-padded lap.
“When I was watching the ME’s press conference the other day,” she said, rhythmically stroking Sashki’s back, “I recognized the man I’d seen racing out of town the day Jim died.”
My friendly interest zoomed to intense focus in a split second. “What do you mean?”
“About four thirty on the day he was killed, I needed my late afternoon coffee. It helps me make it through until closing. I left my niece in charge of the shop and was crossing the street when this car came out of nowhere like a bat out of hell. If I hadn’t jumped back, he would have mowed me down and probably kept right on going.”
Could it be that simple? Could Lolly have seen the killer leaving the murder scene? “Who was it?” I prodded her when she paused to coo to Sashki.
“Well I don’t know his name, but at the press conference he was wearing a suit and standing in the background next to Police Chief Gimble. I imagine he’s someone with clout.”
“Can you describe him to me?”
“Tall, broad shoulders, gray buzz cut. He looks like an army drill sergeant.”
It had to be Duggan. “Did you notice the kind of car he was driving the day he nearly hit you?”
She nodded. “It was a Jeep, a black Jeep. I wanted to get the plate number to report him, but by the time I got my wits about me, he was gone.”
I’d seen the unmarked car Duggan drove when he was on the job, and it wasn’t a Jeep. What had he been doing in New Camel so close to the time of the murder and why had he been in such a big hurry to leave that he almost ran over Lolly? The answer that best fit those questions was that he’d just shot Jim and was making his getaway. But I needed more proof than Lolly’s memory of a traumatic incident, before I could take my suspicions up the ladder to Gimble. “I’m glad you told me,” I said, the wheels in my head spinning like mad.
“When I recognized him at that press conference, I was afraid to go to the police,” Lolly went on. “I mean, what if he’s somebody high up in government? But I didn’t feel right not telling anyone. I know you’ve been doing some investigating of your own, so I thought maybe the information could help you.”
I thanked her, and we chatted about town stuff for a few minutes. Then she made me promise to stop by later to taste her newest fudge sensation—chocolate maple walnut twist. Sashki was sound asleep on her lap, so she took great care to pick him up and place him gently back down in the center of the chair. His snoring barely missed a beat.
After Lolly left, I couldn’t stop thinking about this major new wrinkle in the case. Although the prospect of paying the detective another visit didn’t fill me with warm, fuzzy anticipation, it had to be the next thing on my agenda. I’d promised to keep Travis in the loop, but if I told him what I was planning to do, he would surely shut me down. He’d say that if Duggan was the killer, the odds of learning anything useful by confronting him were close to zero, whereas the odds of provoking him into killing me also, approached one hundred percent. I wrestled with my conscience. It wasn’t as if I was going to accuse the man outright. I’d be much more subtle. Plus I had the weaponry of magick to protect me, more or less. Hardly a convincing argument. My conscience won out. I’d made a pact with my partner and I was obliged to honor it.
When I reached Travis, he was on assignment, covering a suspicious fire in the next county. He hadn’t been down to Manhattan yet. “There’s a better way of going about this,” he said, after hearing me out. At least he hadn’t gone all alpha male on me, forbidding me to do it. Maybe he suspected such a tactic would not be well-received.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“Most of the businesses along Main Street, including Harkens’s building, probably have security cameras. See if you can get the property owners to let you view the video footage from that day. You may get lucky and find proof that it was Duggan’s Jeep tearing down Main Street, or better yet, proof of him entering and leaving Jim’s office building. Of course Duggan probably had all the video in his hands within minutes of Jim’s death,” he added as an afterthought.
“Do you think he might have tampered with it? I mean, if he was the killer?”
“I wouldn’t rule it out. But security video is time-stamped. You should be able to tell if there’s missing footage. It’s definitely worth a shot.”
How had I not thought of checking the cameras? I was turning out to be more like Inspector Clouseau than Nancy Drew. As long as I had Travis on the phone, I decided to bare my soul and get it over with. I gave him a brief summary of my trip to see the ME, emphasizing the comical aspects of my failure and Westfield’s dust-dry humor. Travis didn’t find it funny. But then neither did I. That might come some months or years down the road. Or maybe not at all. “One more thing,” I said. “Do you think one of your cop friends would check with the DMV and find out what kind of car Duggan drives when he’s not on the clock?”
“Already on my list of things to do.”
* * *
Travis proved to be right about the security cameras. Abracadabra and Tea and Empathy were among the few businesses that didn’t have them. When Morgana had reluctantly added the alarm system, cameras had seemed like overkill. She’d read Orwell’s 1984 at least a dozen times in her youth and abhorred the idea of what she called “big brother cameras.” However, if asked her opinion of them now that New Camel had had its first homicide, I suspect she would reconsider the idea, much as I was.
I contacted every shop owner in town and asked if I could view the video footage of the day Jim was murdered. Not a single one refused. They told me the old footage was stored by the security company for a month, in case it was needed in an investigation or lawsuit. Nearly all the systems had been installed and were monitored by Third Eye Security. The company had apparently offered a group discount at the time, but Morgana and Tilly had declined.
When I called Third Eye, I had to go through a receptionist, a low-level sales rep, a customer service rep, and a harried woman from the billing department before finally reaching a supervisor. For the fifth time that morning, I introduced myself and explained what I wanted. The supervisor tried to brush me off, saying that the police had already viewed all the video from that day. I told him that since I had the necessary waivers from their customers, I wanted to see the footage for myself. We went back and forth about it for another minute, until he snapped at me to be there at ten the next morning and hung up.
Tilly was free to take over at Abracadabra for me. She only did readings three or four days a week, because, as she put it, she needed to spend quality time in her own head too. Then I called Elise to tell her about the incident with Lolly and the security footage I was going to see.
“Let me come with you,” she begged. “I need to do something constructive. I’ve already cleaned out every closet, twice. I know I’m driving the boys crazy, and they have enough to deal with.” Her voice cracked on the last words.
How could I say no? With her help, I’d be able to get through the tapes more quickly. She might even catch something I missed. It was a win/win situation. But by the time we agreed to meet at Third Eye the next morning, my stomach had twisted into a painful knot and I knew exactly why. I still hadn’t figured out how to tell her about Jim’s infidelity and Ronnie’s betrayal. As much as I wanted to protect her from the added distress, I had no right to keep the information from her. If only magick could rewrite the past.