While “Don’t Mess With Texas” was created as an anti-littering campaign, the sentiment applied to our beloved police chief too. At the crime scene, Chief Matt Young bossed people around like there was no tomorrow, and I had no intention of interfering with his investigation. He sent Jake, Celia, and me to sit down in the front corner of the store until he could question us. The chief was in his element and gave me hope the killer would be caught.
The brother-and-sister duo settled onto the denim-covered love seat catty-corner to the blue checkerboard pattern armchair I’d claimed. Celia’s face remained pale, and she bounced her leg. Jake rubbed his earlobe. He stared at the display of books written by local authors and propped one sneaker-clad foot on the pine coffee table, but I doubted any of it registered with him. Jake appeared to be lost in his thoughts.
I gripped the arms of my chair and studied the growing crowd in front of the bookstore. People watched from the sidewalks on both sides of the street. The cops had flipped the window sign to Closed, but the emergency vehicles parked in front had caused a stir. Was the killer watching? Chills zipped up my spine. It kinda made sense. Arsonists were known for watching their fires, so maybe the same could be said for killers.
I whipped out my phone and took pictures. I stood to get a better view and kept pressing the button.
“What are you doing?” Jake rose to his feet and towered over me. At my height, I didn’t often look up at a man. He was probably six-two or three.
“Taking pictures.”
“Why?” He propped his hands on his hips.
I lowered my voice and leaned closer. “The murderer could be out there. Watching. You know what I mean?”
He ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Do you work for the police department?”
For the love of daffodils. Moments earlier, I’d decided to stay out of Matt’s way, and now I was looking for the killer. “Well, no, but Willow was a friend. What if the cops are so focused on the alley that nobody’s watching the front? My pictures might help find the killer.”
“You’re a flower seller—”
I raised my hand to stop him. “Flower farmer.”
Jake quirked an eyebrow. “Sorry, but you have no experience solving crimes.”
“I’m not an idiot. Find clues and follow them.” I turned my back on Jake and returned to snapping pictures. I’d read lots of mysteries and had a vague notion of what to do. To be fair, I had no formal training. Still, it couldn’t hurt to take pictures.
Chief Young appeared. “Do either of you know where Paige Booker is?”
“Not a clue.” Jake moved away and sat beside his sister.
Was there tension between Jake and Matt? I slid my phone into my pocket and faced the police chief. “She usually runs on Friday mornings.”
“Any chance you know her route?” The chief motioned for one of his men to come over and join the conversation.
“Uh, she usually goes around the square. I’ve seen her run down my street, so maybe she takes one of the paths around the lake. I’m sure she’ll show up at some point. Most Fridays, Willow handles customers, and Paige works on inventory and other stuff.” I stared at him. “She’ll be devastated when she hears the news.”
Chief Young cut his gaze from mine, then pointed to one of the officers. “Find Paige Booker, and bring her here.”
It made sense Paige needed to know about the murder as soon as possible. After all, the crime had been committed at her store. Intensity rolled off the two cops. I’d rather be working on my flowers or curled up with a good book. Instead, I was at a murder scene. Poor Willow. My heart broke for her family.
When the officer left the store, Chief Young stared at me. “Quit taking pictures, Emma. I’ll be back and question the three of you soon. Until then, don’t discuss the case amongst yourselves.” He strode to the back of the store.
My face grew hot. “I’ll text them to you. There might be a clue in one of them.”
“No more pictures, Emma.” The chief’s voice boomed.
It’d be a lie to tell him I was sorry. I made eye contact with Jake.
“Busted.” Jake shook his head. “I tried to warn you.”
“At least he didn’t make me erase the photos.”
“He seems awful familiar with you. Are you two in a relationship?” He raised his eyebrows.
“You really don’t understand how small our town is. We all know each other. The police chief and I are only friends.” I returned to my seat and began to look at the photos I’d taken with my phone. In the first picture, I saw Benjamin and Zoe Garcia, the owners of Amalfi’s Pizzeria. It made sense they’d be curious because their business was next to the bookstore. The Nelle sisters sat on a bench. Nothing suspicious about the senior citizens. Maybe it had been a silly idea to imagine the killer would be standing in the crowd.
The door flew open, and Paige Booker entered her shop with keys jingling. “What’s happening?”
I stuffed my phone into my pocket and hurried to Paige’s side. I touched her arm. “Come sit down, and I’ll tell you.”
“No.” My fifty-something friend shook me off. “Tell me now.”
I swallowed hard. Why’d I have to be the one to inform Paige about the tragedy?
“Come on, Emma. What’s going on?”
“Willow’s dead. Somebody killed her behind the store.” I couldn’t be blunter than that.
Paige’s keys fell from her hand. She moved past us and collapsed into the chair where I’d been sitting. “No. Willow can’t be dead.” She rocked forward, resting her arms on her thighs.
I knelt beside Paige, rubbing her back. “Did you see Willow today?”
“Yes. I met Nick here early to do his pest control thing. Monday is his normal day, but I’d asked him to treat the upstairs apartment. I’m considering renting it out.” Paige tugged her wedding ring off, then pushed it on, staring out the window. “He was up there when Willow arrived. I trusted she could handle Nick, and I left for my morning run. Fridays are my only day to sleep in and run later.” She pointed to her jogging shorts and a T-shirt with a picture of Agatha Christie on it.
“Yeah, the whole town watches to see which author T-shirt you’re going to wear every Friday.”
Paige whispered, “I can’t believe Willow’s dead. Do you think the police will accuse me of killing her?”
“That’s silly. You can’t possibly have a motive.” Yet, Chief Young had been insistent on finding Paige. Of course, there was also the matter of a loan.
“I was mad at Willow, but not mad enough to hurt her.” She ran her hands up and down her arms. “If they arrest me, will you help prove I’m innocent?”
“Me?” My voice squeaked.
“Yes, you’re one of the smartest people I know. You’re good at analyzing situations. I need your help. Please.”
Jake tapped my shoulder before I could form an answer. “You best wait for the cops to question her.”
Paige widened her eyes like she hadn’t noticed Jake before. She lifted her chin but didn’t stand. “I’m Paige, and this is my shop. Who are you?”
I gasped at Paige’s rude tone.
Jake frowned, and there was no sign of the flirt from earlier.
I jumped in to answer Paige’s question before Jake replied. Last thing we needed was for the police to hear a testy discussion. “This is Jake Hunter and his sister, Celia.” I pointed to the young woman on the loveseat. “They’re in town to help Brett at the coffee shop. Celia was with me when I found the body. She called Jake when we realized something might be wrong, and he came to help.”
Paige nodded. “Pleased to meetcha. Sorry for being rude. You just caught me off guard. What a horrible thing for you to have to deal with.”
“Ain’t my first rodeo, but I’d feel better if I could get my sister outta here.” Jake turned his attention to Celia.
I studied the three of them. We were all hurting, and it wasn’t fair for Chief Young to keep us waiting like we’d done something wrong. “I’ll be back.” I marched away.
Jake caught up to me by a table of jewelry created by a young Texas designer. “If you disturb the crime scene, Chief Young’s not gonna be too happy. There’s a chain of command, and he’ll get to us when he can.”
“Ex-military?” I pretty much had figured out what his answer would be.
“Once a Marine, always a Marine. Oorah.” His perfect posture and stance reflected his training.
“As I stated earlier, Chief Young is a friend, and he won’t mind if I interrupt him.” My hands shook. If I went outside to speak to him, there’d be no avoiding seeing Willow’s body again. I touched the table to steady myself.
“You okay?” Jake reached out and gripped my shoulders.
Tremors overtook my body. Tears leaked out of my eyes and down my face. Willow had been a friend. She was older than me, and we lived different lives. Money had never been a problem for her, and I’d scrimped for every penny my entire adult life. Still, I’d always liked Willow. How could she be dead?
I swayed toward Jake, the Marine. Courageous. Warrior. The opposite of me. The thought of seeing Willow again terrified me.
“Aw, now.” His voice softened.
“Who would’ve killed Willow?” I leaned against his chest and into his strength.
“It’s going to be okay. Let’s sit down until Chief Young is ready to talk.” He patted my back.
Embarrassment washed over me. I was supposed to be a strong, self-sufficient woman. When my husband died close to twenty years ago, I’d raised my daughter alone. Never had I leaned on a man, but this situation was far different than anything I’d ever experienced.
I’d give myself grace for the moment, then I’d go back to facing the world. Who would’ve hated Willow enough to kill her? I shivered, and Jake held me tighter. Our little town had always felt safe. People looked out for each other. We supported each other when times were tough. Except for my decision to marry Bo Justice years earlier, I’d always been a good judge of character.
Who would’ve killed Willow? And why? If we had a murderer living amongst us, and if it was a friend, it’d be hard to learn to trust again.
I stepped away from Jake. He was new in town and possibly only passing through. Could it be a coincidence he arrived in Lutz right before Willow’s murder? Surely not. Brett trusted him to run the coffee shop. “Sorry about that. I’m not prone to outbursts.”
“I would’ve been concerned if you didn’t react to your friend’s death.” He gave me a lopsided smile.
While I didn’t know Jake Hunter, he was Brett’s friend. I trusted Brett, and for now, I wouldn’t accuse his Marine buddy of anything other than being a flirt.