To say the rest of that evening was restless would be akin to comparing Maryland’s affection for Old Bay to my slight preference for walnut-honey cream cheese over berry cream cheese. In other words, there was no comparison.
I barely slept, and from the look of Mart the next morning, the same was true for her. We both could have played extras in a zombie film and wouldn’t have needed to visit the make-up trailer.
I arrived at the store a bit before ten and was pleased to see that Marcus had already arrived for his shift and gone through the opening procedures. I had never been as glad as I was at that moment to have hired him.
Rocky was off that day for her classes, so Mart was covering the café . . . and I hoped she didn’t scald herself with hot coffee. Sleep deprivation does not make for great coordination. Still, I was glad she was there again. We needed each other after the encounter with Rafe the day before and now this news about Miranda.
I had spent most of the night thinking about what the sheriff said, and while I really hoped that Miranda hadn’t killed her husband, I couldn’t say that I wouldn’t understand. That man was awful, and he’d made her life and the life of her children miserable and terrifying. If she hadn’t seen another way out, I could completely see how murder might have felt like her only option.
But somehow, I didn’t believe it. She had seemed hopeful when we talked yesterday, and even though she’d looked absolutely terrified when we left, she hadn’t tried to play off our ruse with a direct refusal. That made me think maybe she had wanted to use our ploy as a way of getting help. Maybe even getting out.
Still, she clearly had the most motive, and I could see why the sheriff suspected her. He’d said they were going to bring her in for questioning this morning and that I shouldn’t contact her – even to check in – since that might tip her off. “For her sake, Harvey, we need this to be by the book. I only told you about our suspicions because of what happened earlier today. It was courtesy, but not permission.”
I hadn’t called, although I’d really wanted to. But I knew the sheriff was right. She had to react honestly in order for them to get this straight. So I waited.
Fortunately, we were busy with our new children’s story time for most of the morning. Each week, we’d had more and more preschoolers come with their parents, and I was loving the way they reacted to Marcus as he read to them from some of his favorite children’s books. This week, he had chosen Miss Rumphius by Barbara Cooney, and as he read the story of a woman finding herself by planting flowers everywhere she went, his voice got wispy and magical. I, like the children at his feet, was swept away with the story. So swept away, in fact, that I didn’t even see Sheriff Mason come in.
When story time ended, he was standing by the psychology bookshelf just outside the children’s section, and he looked relaxed. I was hoping this wasn’t just Marcus’s gift for reading aloud or the beauty of the story. Maybe it also indicated that Miranda hadn’t been arrested.
I sauntered over, trying to keep the buoyant feeling I had from the story, and said, “Oh, please, oh please, have good news.”
He turned and smiled. “It wasn’t her.”
“Oh wow. Really. Okay, this is good news.” I did a little spin and turned back to face Mason. “I mean, I know you still have to solve the case, but this is good news, right?”
“Yes, it’s good news.” His smile got bigger.
“So, how did you know?”
The smile faded quickly. “Harvey, you know I’m not going to tell you all the details. Let’s just say that it was clear from the way she talked about driving that she was not capable of the, um, focus necessary to commit this murder.”
I had no idea what that meant, and sometime later, I’d work a little harder to get the details. But now? Now I was just really happy.
The sheriff patted my shoulder. “I knew you’d want to know.” He put on his hat and left.
I rushed over to the café to tell Mart the good news, and we did one of those jumpy, happy things that women always do on movies and that felt entirely unnatural, but also fitting.
“Oh, that’s amazing,” Mart said as she looked me hard in the eye. “But Harvey, this does not mean you can go sleuthing to find out who the killer is. You know that, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course, I know that I’m not a trained investigator.” I really, really wanted my dodge to go unnoticed but was not surprised when Mart gave my shoulders a little shake.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it, Harvey Beckett. No snooping. No casual questioning. No studying of car bumpers. Nothing. You hear me?”
Her grip on my shoulders was firm, but I managed to duck and spin out. “I won’t do anything dangerous. You know that.”
“No, Harvey. No, I don’t. Danger seems to find you because you are too darn curious.”
But I was already walking away, a smile tossed over my shoulder, to help two men in the spirituality and religion section. I knew just what my friend meant, but I also knew that I could be surreptitious in my queries. No one would know what I was looking into. By the time I pulled a copy of Kathleen Norris’s Amazing Grace off the shelf for my customers, I had almost convinced myself.
The afternoon brought in a steady stream of customers and the delight of a visit from Daniel, who had a lull in work for a few minutes and wanted to know if I had time for a walk. Marcus was in for another hour or so, so I let him know I’d be back soon and headed out with Daniel and our two pups.
Walking with two hounds is an exercise in arm strength and patience. I expect some people are able to train their dogs not to tug and pull while they take in the entire planet through their noses, but Daniel and I are not those people. Mayhem required all my body strength to keep her from pulling me off my feet, and Taco, while not as consistently bull-headed as his red-headed counterpart, could follow a scent right into oncoming traffic if Daniel wasn’t careful.
The upside of this situation was that a short pass up and back down Main Street meant that the two dogs would be so exhausted when we got back that they’d sleep the rest of the day. The downside was that I would need to see a massage therapist to have the knots in my shoulders worked out. Fortunately, a certain dark-haired mechanic gave a pretty good shoulder rub.
“You heard about Miranda,” I said after we’d wrestled the dogs around people and away from discarded trash in silence for a few minutes.
“I did. Saw the sheriff when I dropped off a patrol car after an oil change. That’s good news.”
“It is.” Daniel had come over the night before to sit with Mart and me for a while. He was not happy that we’d gone to her house, of course. But he was even more livid that Rafe would keep tabs on his wife with a doorbell cam.
“I don’t wish anyone dead, but that guy, that guy makes me kind of glad he’s gone,” He had said as he scowled into his hot cocoa.
I couldn’t disagree. But I was glad to find out that Miranda hadn’t done it. While I knew she would have been justified, maybe even in court, I didn’t know if she or those little girls would survive the travails of a court case.
“Now, though, of course, we still have a murderer on our hands. Miranda was the easy suspect given that she stood to inherit her dad’s fortune and that she was a long-time domestic violence victim. With her cleared, I’m not sure where to investigate next.” As soon as the word investigate left my lips, I regretted it.
“Harvey!”
One day I would fully grasp that my friends did not like my new hobby and just not talk about it. But today was not that day.
“Alright, alright, I get it. You and Mart want me to back off.”
He put his arm around my waist and pulled me close to him. “We do. Because we care about you. You know that, right?”
“I do.” I gave him a little squeeze and started walking again. “I do, but I’m just so fascinated with all these things. Is it okay if we just talk about ideas if I agree not to do anything ridiculous in terms of detective work?”
I could tell that Daniel would rather have dropped the whole idea, but he nodded briskly. “I guess I’d rather be in the loop so I can help if you get into trouble than I would be shut out and have no idea what’s happening.”
I smiled. “That’s my guy.” I winked at him and saw him blush. It was the first time I’d use a possessive to describe him. I think he liked it.
“Okay, so who else gains from these two deaths?”
Daniel rolled his eyes but played along. “Do we know that one person killed both of them? I mean what would be the motive? If it was the oil, then wouldn’t have someone killed Miranda instead of Rafe?
“You make a good point. Plus, Pickle and Bear were not exactly tight-lipped that they were buying the oil rights, so they would have been the targets, right? I mean if people knew.” I gave Mayhem’s leash a good tug. “So it’s probably not the oil, unless maybe someone thought that they needed to get Rafe out of the way, too. Do you think he would have had access to Miranda’s oil fortune?”
Daniel walked in silence for a moment or two. “That’s a good question. I think – and you’d know this better than I – that inheritance money isn’t split with a spouse. So I don’t think Rafe would have had access to the money.”
I stopped dead in the middle of the crosswalk. “But does everybody know that? Maybe they thought they had to get Rafe and Miranda—“ I stopped walking. “Oh no, Miranda might still be in danger.”
Daniel took my arm and led me out of the street and then waved at the grumpy woman in the red sedan who had been waiting for me to get out of the way. “Could be. But Harvey,” he turned and faced me outside of the shop, “that doesn’t mean you need to do anything.”
“Yes, it does. I need to call Sheriff Mason.”
Daniel sighed. “Okay, that you can do. But no snooping.”
I gave a weak laugh. “You all must think I’m really nosy.”
“We prefer the term curious,” he said and then gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before we headed back to the shop.
I was halfway through dialing when I realized I was doing just what bugged Sheriff Mason so much – assuming he couldn’t do his job. If I called him and told him my theory about Miranda still being in danger – a theory he had probably already considered – I’d be insulting him. I definitely didn’t want to do that.
Instead, I decided there was no danger in doing a little research myself. I concluded that if I could figure out if Rafe stood to inherit part of the Harris fortune, I’d at least know if someone had motive to kill him specifically. I supposed that other people could be making the same assumption I had – that money in a marriage was always divided equally – but maybe they’d thought to check into that before taking the drastic step of murder.
It was something to look into at least, and I liked having a path to go down, a goal to achieve. It made me feel purposeful.
But my research would have to wait until tomorrow. Marcus’s shift was ending, and we had a beautifully full house in the shop. Mart was filling mugs left and right, and almost every reading chair was occupied by a person with a book open. It made my heart feel good.
I wandered the shop and picked up books, putting them on the antique library cart I’d just added to the store’s assets. It was made of a beautiful oak that was stained a color somewhere between top soil and sunset. I loved pushing it around the shop to gather the strays from people’s shopping endeavors. I thought of all the booksellers and librarians before me who had used the cart. Their fingers had weathered the top a bit, and it felt like I was holding hands with them while I worked. A legacy of books and reading passed down on wheels.
Once I could afford to take the bookshelves to the ceiling and store my overstock there, I planned on installing two or three library ladders in the shop, and then, it would be everything I dreamed. Just a few more big sales, and I’d be there.
I had just finished reshelving and ringing up the day’s last customers, when the bell over the door rang. I started to say, “I’m sorry, but we’re just closing” when I heard, “Oh, HARVEY!” in the voice of a person I loved dearly.
“Stephen Arritt-Hitchcock?! What are you doing here?”
“Don’t forget me, gorgeous,” Walter, Stephen’s husband said. “Surprise!!”
I couldn’t believe it. Stephen and Walter lived in San Francisco, where I had worked with Stephen back in the day. This was no casual drop by on the way home from dinner. They had flown cross-country.
“What are you doing here?” I hugged them both at the same time and took a deep breath. More friends were here, and I was so grateful.
“Mart has been keeping us up on what’s happening, and we wanted to be here. This is hard, Harvey.”
I wanted to cry, but I needed to keep it together or else I was afraid I would completely fall apart. “Thank you, guys.” I gave them another hug. “You’re staying with us, right?”
“Well, first, tell me, do you have any bacon?” Walter had a deep love affair with the stuff and ate it almost every morning for breakfast. “You know that the absence of bacon is a deal-breaker.” He gave me a grin.
I smirked. “I always keep a pound in the freezer just for you, sir.”
“Alright, then, it’s settled,” Stephen said. “Also, we left our suitcases on your front stoop. The Uber dropped us off there, and then we came right over.”
“I see you take nothing for granted.” I kissed each of them on the cheek and then finished closing up so we could all go to dinner.
We chose to dine at Chez Cuisine because it was close and, well, open. Most of the restaurants in St. Marin’s closed at seven during the week in the off-season because of lack of customers. But Max prided himself on creating as much of a European atmosphere as possible, and apparently, the French ate late. I wouldn’t know. I hadn’t visited France, and frankly, I wasn’t sure Max really knew either. But I was grateful for the chance to drink wine and eat with my friends.
I briefly thought about calling Cate and Lucas, but I decided I’d like a night to just be with three of my oldest friends and even texted Daniel to tell him what was up. He’d totally understood. “Sometimes, you need to reminisce without catching someone up all the time. I’ll grab Marcus and order pizza. New Roadkill on the DVR.”
The man was obsessed with this TV show. In the episode I had watched him, they drove a car across thousands of miles and then put that car’s engine into the boat, drove the boat, before putting the engine back in the car and driving home. I had no idea why someone would do such a thing, and when I posited that question to Daniel, he said, “Because they can,” which is the reason a lot of us do the things we do, I suppose.
As I entered Chez Cuisine, Max greeted me by, again, taking my hand and kissing it. Then, he looked back at Mart, Stephen, and Walter and said, “Oh, no Daniel. I hope nothing happened.” He held onto my hand and moved closer to me. It was creepy.
Mart saved me by looping an arm around my waist and saying, “I’m her date tonight,” and then kissing me loudly on the cheek. “Max, we need two bottles of wine, please, one white and one red. You know what I like.”
Max blushed, but nodded and headed off.
“He knows what you like?” Walter teased.
Mart smacked him playfully. “What I really meant was, ‘Bring me that great bottle of white and that amazing red I just sold you.’”
“Ah, ingesting your own products, I see. That’s a testament to how much you believe in what you sell.” Stephen pointed to a table in the back, and we slid in. Only one other couple – probably on a first date, if I was reading the body language right – was in the restaurant, so we had our choice of seats.
I nodded and took the seat against the wall. I liked to see what was going on, and for some reason, being tucked in a corner always felt cozy and warm to me.
Max returned with the wine and even went so far as to pour a bit of each for me – why me, I wasn’t sure – to sample. I said they were fine. I would have said that for most wine because I didn’t really know anything about it, but given that these were from the vineyard where Mart worked, I knew they were good.
Before we even ordered, Max brought out a tray of oysters for the table and an order of the black olive tapenade for me. I loved that stuff and had to restrain myself from eating it right out of the cut-glass bowl with a spoon instead of putting it on the toast bites that Max also brought.
“He’s giving us free appetizers?” Mart looked at me.
“Oh, I doubt they’re free. But it is odd that he brought them out before we ordered.”
“And a little telling that he knew you didn’t eat seafood, Harvey.” Stephen’s voice was full of innuendo.
“What? Wait?! What?! What are you saying? No. No. Nonononono. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a small town.”
“Uh-huh,” Stephen said as he wiggled his eyebrows. “Someone has an admirer.” The idea that Max Davies had a thing for me, oh, I didn’t like it. Not at all. I mean we got along alright now after our rough start, but he was just kind of smarmy. He always struck me as out to get what was best for him, forget everybody else.
“All I’m saying is that in the ten minutes we’ve been here, he’s kissed your hand, brought you your favorite appetizer, and stared at you nonstop from the door by the kitchen. I think someone has a crush.” Walter dropped his voice to a pseudo-whisper. “Want me to go ask him if he likes you?”
I punched my friend in the arm and put my menu in front of my face. “Mart, order for me. You know what I like. I can’t look.”
“He’s coming, Harvey. Put the menu down. You look ridiculous.” Mart was teasing, but she also reached over and lowered the menu from my face.
I knew Max had waitstaff – I had just seen a young woman waiting on the other couple – but apparently, we were getting special attention. Mart ordered some kind of pork dish, and Stephen and Walter got seafood. But when Max got to me, he said, “I have something just for you, Harvey.” He started to turn away but looked back quickly with a smile, “If that’s okay.”
“Um, sure,” I said, and then as soon as he walked away, I whispered, “I’ll need frozen pizza when we get home if this goes bad.” I shivered. This felt all kinds of icky.
But the food was incredible. Max brought me the most amazing Dijon chicken dish with my favorite mushroom risotto, and I ate every bite. We also finished both bottles of wine and asked for a third to take home. I laughed hard at Walter’s jokes and got all the gossip about the fundraising agency where Stephen and I used to work. Aside from Max staying far too close and being much too attentive all evening, it was a beautiful meal.
Stephen and Walter ran interference when it looked like Max was heading our way as we put on our coats to leave. As Mart and I slipped out the door, I heard Stephen say, “So we’re thinking of moving to the area. We need to be sure we’re here to help with Harvey and Daniel’s wedding.”
I laughed hard and made a note to thank them, and then as Mart and I sauntered up the block, she got a little sappy from too much stress and too much wine. “So a wedding doesn’t sound so bad, huh?”
I really wish a poker face was in my wheelhouse. I looked over at my friend. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
“What wouldn’t?” Stephen said as he and Walter caught up.
“Oh, Harvey was just thinking she’d like you in town to help with the wedding she hopes to have soon.”
“Wait!” Walter stopped walking. “Is there talk of a wedding?”
“No. No! And don’t you go saying anything to Daniel. We are nowhere near that. I just heard what you said to Max – thank you by the way – and I let myself dream for a minute.”
“Well, as I see it, you won’t have too long to wait. That guy is totally smitten with you, and in a good way, not in the kind of way that orders for you. Ew,” Stephen said with a little shiver.
I smiled at my friend. “Right!?”
“But there was something I wanted to run by you.” He slipped his arm through mine. “Walter and I have been talking, and we were wondering, well, if you—“
“Honey, spit it out. Harvey, would it be okay if we also moved to St. Marin’s?”
I spun to face the two of them, grabbing Mart close. “Don’t tease me, men. Are you serious?”
“As serious as me giving my two weeks’ notice yesterday,” Stephen said.
“And I sold the business last week,” Walter added.
“You quit, you sold. . . . what is happening?” I was bewildered, but in the most delightful way. “You’re moving here? You’re really moving here?”
“If it’s okay with you,” Stephen looked a little sheepish.
“Of course it’s okay with me. I love it!!” But then I scowled. “But what if I had said no?”
“Then we would have been in trouble,” Walter laughed. “We know and love you, though, Harvey, and we knew you’d be in.”
“Tomorrow, we start house hunting.” Stephen shouted.
“Ooh, I need ALL the pictures.” I said as I skipped down the sidewalk backwards.
We stopped into the shop and picked up Mayhem and Taco, who had barely noticed we were gone on their big bed by the register. The dogs were having a sleep over for the first time because I didn’t want Daniel to have to come out just to get his pup, and it looked like they had already started without us.
Our little group fell silent as we walked the last few blocks home. As we turned the corner, I said, “So you know there’s been a murder?”
Mart sighed. “We almost made it through the night without sleuthing, Harvey.” She was teasing, but I could also hear a little edge to her voice. I knew she’d support me in anything I did, but I also knew my endless curiosity was exhausting to her. I had to admit, it was a little exhausting to me, too.
I caught Stephen and Walter up on all the details about Harris’ death and then on Rafe’s, and I told them about Miranda. They were horrified for her. “Poor woman. Why do abusers do what they do? Is it a cycle of abuse? Passing down of generations? Or something else? Man!”
We walked a bit further. “Tell us how we can help, Harvey. I used my vacation days for the next two weeks, so as of now, we are all yours. I’ll have to get a job eventually, but as of tonight, we are officially residents of St. Marin’s . . . and your assistant sleuths, if you’ll have us.”
I grinned. “You mean you’re not going back?”
“Well, we’ll have to go back in a couple of weeks to pack up, but pretty much, we’re here to stay.”
“And you’ll help me look into Harris’s murder?”
Mart groaned. “You two are not helping.”
“Sure we are. Call us Harvey’s assistant sleuths.”
Another groan from Mart . . . and an echo from Taco who was getting very close to the “carry me” point. We picked up the pace.
We were just turning onto our block when I heard a vehicle start behind us. The street was pretty much empty of cars and people, as usual, so the bright headlights of what must have been a truck shone without obstruction. We kept walking as the truck got closer, but when it didn’t pass us, I started to feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Mart grabbed my hand, and I saw Walter drop Stephen’s – how awful to worry that your relationship was dangerous.
We started to jog, letting Mayhem and Taco pull us all along. As we sprinted up our driveway, the truck slowed down then stopped before speeding off with a spin of its tires. It was ominous.
I couldn’t see the driver or the license plate, but it looked to be an older silver pick-up. Time to call the sheriff. Again.
We all rushed inside and locked the door. I dialed the sheriff’s office, and the dispatcher said she’d send over a car immediately. “You want me to let the sheriff know, too, Harvey?” she asked.
I paused. I wasn’t sure. I knew he’d find out in the morning first thing, and I hated to disturb him this late in his evening. “Nah. The truck is gone, and we’re safe. Nothing more he can do before morning anyway.”
The officer came by right away and took statements from each of us. Unfortunately, the bright lights of the truck combined with the couple bottles of wine meant none of us could say more than it was a pick-up truck, gray or silver. At least we were consistent in that bit of information.
After the patrol car left with assurances from the office that he’d do a careful scout of the area and then come back through regularly overnight, we settled in with hot cocoa and a fire. Aslan settled her black and white girth on my lap as if she knew I could use the support and found it necessary to show Mayhem the proper way to love a human. The dog would NOT leave my feet and kept licking my hands. Taco had adopted Walter and was draped across his legs in an act of relaxation that was enviable.
“Well, message received, huh?” Mart gave me a pointed look.
“I’d say so, but what message and from whom?” I tried to look innocent, like I wasn’t doing the exact opposite of what Mart would like me to do here. I knew she wanted me to drop this, but it felt impossible, especially now.
“Do you guys know that truck?”
I looked at Mart, and she sighed. “No, I don’t recognize it. Harvey?”
Sitting back against the cushion and trying not to incur the wrath of the chubby cat, I tried to think about whether I’d seen it before. I felt like I had, but in the dark, I didn’t get a good enough look to be sure of that . . . and even if I had, I wasn’t recalling why it felt familiar. “Maybe. But I’m not sure.”
“The sheriff might know it,” Walter said as he dropped another marshmallow in his mug.
“Maybe. But here’s my question, why is someone threatening us? I mean the person who had a reason to worry is now dead,” I paused as I pictured Rafe’s terrifying face in his kitchen, “and I can’t think of another person who cared enough about Harris or Rafe to be bothered by my, um, curiosity.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Mart said under her breath and then winked at me.
“I don’t know all the details yet,” Stephen said, “but there is one person who cared about both of those men, right?”
Mart and I locked eyes. “Miranda.”
The air in the room got heavy. None of us, not even Stephen and Walter who only heard her story, wanted that idea to be true, but it sounded, again, like the most likely suspect was Miranda.
“But wait a minute,” Mart stood up. “Surely Miranda doesn’t drive an old pick-up, right? We saw her SUV in her garage, remember?”
I sat forward. “True. But she could have hired someone.”
Mart looked out of the top of her eyes at me. “What reason would Miranda have to send someone to intimidate—Oh, right.” She sat back down.
“Right, if she thinks we’re getting close . . . I can’t imagine it, especially after what she’s been through. It seems like she’s barely getting through the day – at least I know that’s how I would be.” I sat back and rubbed my hands over my face. “But I can’t say we rule her out, I guess.”
Walter sat forward. “I don’t like the idea either, Harvey, but how else would anyone know you were there yesterday? I mean, why would anyone else have any reason to feel threatened by your, er, inquiries?”
Walter had a point, but I had hit the wall. I couldn’t think about it anymore. I needed to get some sleep and let my subconscious mind do the work while my conscious one dreamed of gorgeous libraries lined with jewel-toned books and not a body in sight.
The next morning, I was awake before anyone else, well, except for Taco, who seemed to think that six a.m. was a reasonable time to scratch on my door and ask for both a bathroom break and a snack. I was one of those people who could not get back to sleep if awakened any time after five a.m., so I put on my fluffy Doctor Who robe, let Taco into the fenced backyard, and made my way to the coffeepot. I was always grateful that either Mart or I premade the coffee before we went to bed every night, but this morning I was especially grateful. I had slept hard, but not well. I kept dreaming of pick-up trucks slamming into my store. It was not a restful night.
Taco knocked at the French doors, and I let him in and fed him and Mayhem, who had peeled herself off the dog bed by the fireplace to eat before immediately returning to her warm spot. Aslan, apparently sensing that the dogs were going back to bed, joined me in the kitchen, and I gave her a little treat of the horrible-smelling cat food that I kept for special occasions like the administration of medicine. But she’d slept curled against the back of my knees all night and was what grounded me each time I woke. I owed her.
The menagerie fed, I took myself to my favorite reading chair – a wing-backed antique covered in a paisley upholstery woven from the most brilliant reds, purples, greens, and blues. In some homes, it would look outright garish, but here, it was lovely against all our wood tones and book spines.
I wrapped up in the crazy quilt Mart had made for me three years ago in her quilting phase – we were in the time of the wood-carving now – and picked up my latest read, Out of the Silent Planet by C.S. Lewis. It was the first book in his space trilogy, and I was loving it. I’d read the third one, That Hideous Strength, for a class back in college, but this was my first time to try the whole trilogy, and I was not disappointed.
As I read about Ransom’s escape from his captors and pondered the idea that to save some you might have to sacrifice one, I felt it, that tiny sense that my brain was onto something but wasn’t quite ready to let me in on the secret yet. I kept reading, confident my mind would clue me in when necessary.
By the time the rest of the humans in the house started to rouse about eight, I was more relaxed than I’d been when I woke. Reading always did that for me – took me out of my own head and gave me a space to float apart.
When I heard showers start up, I got out the griddle, opened the bacon that I’d thawed overnight, and started to cook. As Mart, Stephen, and Walter each made their way to the kitchen, I served them bacon, eggs, and coffee, made to order for each of my dearest friends.
The silence around the kitchen island made me smile, and I pattered off in my slippers to get my own shower. By the time I’d tamed my wild hair and gotten back to the kitchen, it was spotless, and I knew I’d gotten the best end of that deal. I hated trying to clean all the dots of bacon grease that mysteriously appeared whenever I cooked that deliciousness.
Mart headed out to the winery with a promise to be back in time for dinner at Cate and Lucas’s house, and I walked into town with Stephen, Walter, Taco, and Mayhem, where the two men would meet up with their real estate agent and the two dogs and I would head into the bookstore. I kind of wished the pooches could run the shop today, and I’d curl up in one of the armchairs and play their role. But alas, the no-opposable-thumbs situation made that untenable.
I had just gotten the shop ready – cash to the register, door unlocked, open sign on – when Sheriff Mason came in, and he didn’t look happy. Specifically, he didn’t look happy with me.
Trying to lighten the mood, I said, “That looks like the face of a man who needs a cup of coffee.”
He grunted. Literally grunted. This was not going well.
“Well, I need coffee. Do you mind?”
A brisk nod was my only permission, so I scooted over to the café and poured a big mug of Rocky’s dark roast while giving her the universal of shrug of “I have no idea.”
Back at the counter, the sheriff looked a little less peeved, and I took a deep breath and a long sip before I said, “So the truck?”
Apparently, I broke the seal on his frustration because he let it all out. “Harvey Beckett, I have told you time and time again that your snooping would bring trouble. You KNOW it brings trouble, and yet over and over, you put your nose where it can get chopped off.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I was just trying to make things easier for you—“
“Oh, that’s rich. You think it’s easier for me if I’m having to chase down trucks that threaten to run people down. That makes my job easier? More work makes my job easier?” His voice was getting louder and louder.
I stood up a little straighter and took another sip. I didn’t want to cry, and I didn’t want to shout back, especially since a couple of customers had just come in. Coffee seemed the best option.
“You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
He stared at me, “And . . .”
“And nothing. I screwed up.”
He kept staring.
“Really. I’m done. No more sleuthing. I quit.”
“Okay, then.” He put his hands behind his neck and leaned back. “Now, tell me about this truck.”
I repeated all we knew – silver, older model, not exactly pristine.
“But no one saw the license plate or the driver?”
“No. None of us did. We’d had a couple of bottles of wine, and he’d been following us so our eyes were a little wonky from his lights.”
He was writing all this down in his notebook, and so I had a minute to think. I figured since I really was serious about not sleuthing anymore, I probably needed to just tell him that we had thought maybe Miranda could still be guilty.
“Sheriff, after the truck incident last night, the four of us were talking – you know, just trying to calm down and figure out what had just happened. I guess maybe it’s natural to just want to figure out who scared you so badly and why . . .” I paused to get my breath.
“And you came back to Miranda, thought I might have missed something.”
I winced. I hadn’t thought of it like that. “It just seemed like she had the most reason, and since Mart and I screwed up so bad with her the other day . . .”
He sighed. “The thought had occurred to me, too. But I have no evidence, and to be honest, it just seems unlikely to me.” He looked me in the eye. “I think you know what I mean.”
“I do. Something just feels like she’s not to blame for this.”
He slid his notebook into his shirt pocket. “I agree. But I have to follow the evidence. I will keep you posted, Harvey, as a courtesy. But you have to stay out of things okay? Really?”
“Really. I hear you, Tucker. And I really am sorry.”
He squeezed my forearm. “I hear we’re going to have new residents of St. Marin’s.”
I grinned. “I may never get used to how quickly word travels in this town.”
He laughed. “I hear that. Well, tell Stephen and Walter welcome for me.”
As he walked out the door, I turned to see who had come in while we were talking and found Pickle and Bear glowering at me from the poetry section. This didn’t look good.