Chapter Fourteen

“Shouldn't you be interviewing the crowd? Or taking fingerprints? Or... or... searching for security cameras?” I flapped my hands in the air like a windmill but I guess Detective Logan thought I was chasing him away. Instead of moving, the tall man just looked down at me, his face impassive, his pen poised above his notepad.

“I'm interviewing you,” he said.

“And I already told you, it was like that when I got here! And now everyone in town has seen it!” My voice rose several octaves as my jaw quivered in my effort not to cry. I tried not to stare at the lock of red hair that slipped over the detective's forehead, begging for me to brush it back, and slide my hand down to cup his face as he...

I really had to pull myself together. Blinking in the mid-morning sunlight, which chose that moment to shine directly into my eyes, I wiped away a frustrated tear. If people weren’t gossiping before, surely they would now!

We stood in the doorway of the shop. After rummaging in my tote for a few minutes, I admitted defeat; I left the shop keys at home. While I searched through my purse, Detective Logan ushered the crowd backwards, telling them firmly to go about their own business before he placed a call. I wasn't sure whom he called, but I hoped it was for back-up. Perhaps a couple of uniformed officers could chase away the lingering, gossiping onlookers.

The last thing I wanted to do now was burst into tears in front of everyone.

Detective Logan snapped his notepad shut and tucked it and his pen into his shirt pocket.

“Is that it?” I asked. “You can't do anything more? Someone vandalized my shop by broadcasting that I'm a killer to the whole town!”

“When the perpetrator is found, we'll charge them with vandalism and malicious mischief.”

“I should think so!” I turned to look at the ugly paint and shook my head. It had already begun to dry, and the rivulets crawled to a stop when they reached the window frame. “How can I even get this stuff off?” I wondered. “I certainly can't paint over it.”

“Don't worry about that,” said Detective Logan, raising a hand and summoning someone. I turned to look and saw Nate Minoso easing through the last of the onlookers. He strode towards us, his trusty toolbox in hand.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

Nate gestured to the detective. “Sam called me and said you needed help.” He cast a glance over the shop front and whistled. “Someone's a real jerk. Don't worry. I can get all of this off. I’ll start right now if that works for you? I just finished another job and was heading to the Inn. Vanessa will understand if I’m a little late.”

“Well, yes, thank you!” I stammered, unsure whether I owed my gratitude to Nate or Detective Logan. Despite the angry response I leveled at him in place of the culprit, he still made the call to bring in extra help for me. That went beyond the scope of his duty. His small gesture both touched and reassured me. Surely, he wouldn't be so kind to me if he thought I was a murderer! “I would appreciate whatever you can do to remove it,” I said, relieved that the nasty word would disappear soon. “Oh! But what if the perp comes back?”

“I can temporarily cover the windows with plywood. It won't look very nice but it will protect your windows.”

I shook my head. “The town council are such sticklers for the storefront aesthetics, I doubt they would allow it and I don’t need a fine from them.” Although the council were entirely rigid in what they allowed, all the shopkeepers and business owners I'd spoken to admitted that it kept the town looking pretty and attractive. Plywood over the window would make Main Street appear far too downtrodden, even if there were a good reason.

“What if I added a security camera?” asked Nate. “I can tuck it in discreetly but make sure that your whole shopfront is covered. I can put some signs on the window warning it's covered by CCTV and fix the camera high enough that no one can reach it to cover the lens. The signs should deter anyone from coming back.”

“That sounds like a great option but is it expensive?” The boutique was only just making enough money to justify hiring a full-time assistant, and installing a camera system might have been well beyond my budget. Nate's idea was sensible though and I was eager to ensure no one did anything so awful again.

“I have some surplus equipment from another job so you don't have to pay full price. We can work out a payment plan or you can pay me half now, and the other half later.” Nate shrugged like it meant nothing to him. But it meant so much to me and my heart soared at his thoughtfulness.

“That is so kind of you.”

“It's what good neighbors are for.” He leaned in to the window, reading the sign I placed there. “Maybe you could interview my cousin for the assistant job? I'd consider that a huge personal favor. She works in retail over at the big mall in Hallowell but she hates the drive. I think you'd like her.”

I beamed. “Send her over. I'll be happy to interview her.”

“Great. Now if you're both done here, I'll get rid of this ugly paint,” he said. “I have just the right solution to remove it in my truck.”

“Can I give you a ride anywhere?” Detective Logan asked me.

“I rode my bicycle,” I said, pointing to where I left it. “I picked it up this morning. Warren told me the tires were deliberately punctured. I still think he did it.” I reached into my purse and pulled out the baggie of damaged inner tubes, dropping them into Detective Logan's hand without asking if he wanted them.

“He definitely didn't do that.” Detective Logan indicated the window before holding up the baggie and squinting at it.

“I worked that out already.” I sighed. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to snap at you. It's been a horrible few days. I'm trying to carry on as normal but it's all so stressful.”

“Can I give you a tip?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“Stop carrying on like everything is normal. None of this is normal for you. It's crazy to pretend like it is.”

“That’s some straight talk.”

“Since I'm being direct, feel free to lean on your friends too. No one should go through this alone.” He placed a hand lightly on my shoulder and when I flinched, he dropped it quickly. His eyes burned into me and I held his gaze, wishing I hadn’t jumped at his touch. It didn't seem like he intended to scrutinize me; instead, I felt bolstered by his intensity. He looked at me like I was perfectly capable. Capable of dealing with all of this.

“How do you handle it?” I asked.

“I'm not emotionally attached, like you are. This isn't my shop and it wasn't my home where the... Anyway, when my shift ends, I leave all of it at the station and look forward to doing something else. I don't have to live it twenty-four/seven although for a case like this, sometimes I do. The point is, I get to switch it off.”

I searched for signs in his face that it really was as simple as all that. But all I saw was a man who cared about his work and my wellbeing. I couldn't imagine him leaving everything behind at the station. I suspected he took a great deal of his work home with him, even though he said otherwise.

“And when that doesn’t work?”

“I go to the boxing gym. Or there's a new place called Smash over in Hallowell. You pay twenty bucks to take a baseball bat to a whole bunch of junk for twenty minutes. I haven't tried it yet, but I intend to.”

“I'm not sure I could,” I said. I felt surprised at his answer, but whether it was due to the image of Detective Logan getting all sweaty in a gym, or knowing he liked to take out his stress by smashing inanimate objects, it sounded like a really good idea right now. But I couldn't be sure.

“Try it out some time. Invite some friends. It's a lot better than carrying all that tension around inside you.”

“I was hoping my bicycle ride would do that until this happened.” I waved my hand at the shop front.

“Why don't you leave here? You don't need to file a report since I can do that. I’ll give you all the information you need for your insurers.”

“The insurers! Gosh, I didn't even consider them.” That was another item on my ever-lengthening to-do list. Additionally, I needed some reputation management. I had no idea how to salvage my name, but judging from the thinning crowd, I should start working on it soon. In a town like this, the gossip would be evenly distributed by the end of the day. If anyone listened to Kate DeWitt's accusations, my standing in the community was already toast.

Then I remembered my upcoming talk at the museum. Since it was written for members only, they were all locals. I hoped they didn't see any of this mess before they arrived to the seminar.

“Thank you so much for your help,” I said, “and also, thank you for calling Nate. I just hope you can catch whoever is behind this.”

“Shall I assume you want to press charges?”

“Absolutely. This isn't graffiti, it's a smear on my reputation for the whole town to see.” I checked my watch. “I should go now. I don't want to provide any extra gossip and I have to give a talk at the museum this afternoon. I planned to pick up my bicycle, ride home for lunch and get my laptop, and then come back.”

“Before you go, there's one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“David Van den Berg is due in town later today. As it turns out, he had some business upstate. He said he wanted to come to avoid putting the burden on their parents.”

“Oh, well, of course. I'm sure he'll make arrangements to take Brad's body home.”

“And you're okay with that?”

“Of course! I hope you're not suggesting I wanted to keep it!”

Detective Logan pinched back the laugh that nearly erupted from his throat. “I meant, are you okay with the ME releasing the body to Mr. Van den Berg once they finish the autopsy?”

I gulped. I never considered an autopsy but of course they had to perform one, if they hadn't already. “Yes, I think that’s best for all concerned.”

“There will probably be some paperwork for you to sign.”

“I’m happy to sign whatever’s necessary. I want to make it easier for his family and I won’t stand in their way.” I stopped when Nate approached us and waited while he laid out his plan. He would erect a simple screen while he applied the solvent remover. The cameras would be fitted later if I allowed him access to the electrical supply. I agreed readily and told him to call me if he needed anything else. I was pleased to leave all the work to his discretion. With a last, grateful thank you to Detective Logan, I took my bicycle and wheeled it past the crowd, ignoring their suspicious mumbles. Then I quickly pedaled away, being far too stubborn to take a fleeting glance behind me. If anyone were watching, I wanted them to think this petty crime didn’t ruffle me in the least.

By the time I arrived at my house, some twenty minutes later, my plan to visit Sara was completely abandoned. I cooled off although my annoyance levels remained high. Did someone really think I killed Brad? Being so convinced that they tried to announce it to the whole town? I wheeled my bike to the porch and kicked out the stand. Glancing at Kate's property, the thought that she could have been the perp entered my mind, and I laughed. She might have been a terrible gossip but somehow, I never imagined she could do this. I doubted she even knew where to buy window paint. And now that I thought about it, I didn’t know either!

Perhaps it was just the local kids messing around? Did they hear a rumor and decide to push a bit further? Yet I never saw graffiti of that nature during the whole time I lived in Calendar. Admittedly, it wasn't very long but I couldn’t remember seeing any graffiti around here. No, this slur was definitely aimed at me. That much I was sure of. But who could hate me so much? I hoped Detective Logan could find out without derailing the entire investigation.

I set the uncomfortable thoughts aside as I made a light lunch of chicken salad sandwiches and lemonade. While I munched on an apple, enjoying the sweet juice, I perused my notes for the museum talk. I already memorized it so I was confident I could deliver a nice speech before the members enjoyed their private afternoon viewing and the delicious themed cakes and piped sugar cookies that I knew Tess Hernandez ordered for the occasion.

This time, I left my bicycle behind, choosing to walk, so I could collect my thoughts before I arrived at the museum. A sign read: Members' Event. Meredith Blake, Owner of Blake's Boutique, Discusses Preserving Fashion for Future Generations. I tried the door and found it open so I stepped into the foyer. Karen, the museum receptionist and seemingly Jill-of-all-trades, hurried over, smiling warmly.

“I was worried you might cancel,” she said, giving me a surprise hug. “Tess told me what happened. How awful for you! I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I sometimes have to wonder what's happening to this town!”

“It was awful,” I murmured, not sure if she were referring to my estranged husband's grisly murder or the boutique window. “But I couldn't let you all down.”

“We would have fully understood if you did. The talk is due to start in a few minutes. All the chairs are set up in the library and there's a small lectern for you. Most of the guests have already arrived. Can I get you anything? Water, perhaps? Maybe a bodyguard? Someone who doesn't make terrible jokes at a time like this?” Karen pulled a face.

“I'm not at all offended,” I told her, waving to the curly-haired woman descending the grand staircase. I was pleasantly surprised to be invited to her promotion party - Tess insisting it was just a small gathering - only a couple of weeks ago. She wore her new role as museum director very well. I recognized her dress too. I sold it to her only a month ago.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Tess, placing her warm hands on my arms and looking at me with tenderness and care. “If you don't feel up to it...”

“I’m fine,” I assured her as Karen nodded in agreement. “I'd rather talk about a topic I love than sit at home and wonder what on earth is going on.”

“Then let's get started. I'll introduce you, you give your talk, and then we’ll serve light refreshments while the patrons circulate and mingle. I hope you'll stay and speak to them. Some of the ladies are very fashionable so I know they'll want to ask you all kinds of questions.”

“I'll be happy to.”

“I secretly hope some of them might have some amazing items stashed away in their closets. You never know what might turn up for a future exhibition. Those forgotten turn-of-the-century dresses in The Blackberry Inn's attic are clearly the stars of the show.” Tess checked her watch. “Are you ready? It's showtime.”

“Ready as I'll ever be,” I said.

“Let's go.”

I followed Tess through the doors and Karen trailed behind us, taking her position at the rear. Chairs were set out for twenty people and I was glad it was a small gathering. Having given speeches to much bigger crowds in my past life, and been hounded by the press and paparazzi, this was just the right size to feel special. As I followed Tess to the lectern, I recognized a couple of the patrons. They were women who shopped at my store, and I offered them warm smiles. It didn't escape my notice that amongst the returned smiles were several stony faces. I could only wonder if they heard the gossip or saw the awful graffiti on my boutique.

“It's my pleasure to introduce Meredith Blake, owner of Blake's Boutique right here in Calendar, for our special patron's talk this afternoon. I'm sure you'll join me in offering her a warm welcome,” said Tess, bringing her hands together to lead the applause. A smattering of polite clapping followed her lead. “As you probably know, Meredith lives and breathes fashion so she’s been instrumental in appraising some of our exhibits, including this summer's Fashion Through the Ages. We’re all so eager to hear what she has to say, and now Meredith, it's all on you.” Tess stepped aside and I took her place at the lectern. I slipped my notecards onto the panel and smiled at my audience.

“Thank you, Tess,” I began. “It's my pleasure to talk to you today about...

“You!” came a shout from the doorway, causing the small gathering to turn around. A woman with icy-blonde hair stood in the doorway, her eyes smudged with black and her cheeks flushed. Her bright red dress was just on the side of garish. Trembling, she jabbed a finger at me. “How could you?” she screamed.

“Why don't you...” started Karen, attempting to come between the screaming woman and the crowd.

“Get your hands off me!” She gave Karen a hard shove that sent her stumbling backwards. As Karen righted herself, the woman hurried forward and it was readily apparent from her rigid gaze that she was fixed on attacking me.

I darted a worried glance at Tess and she returned it, mouthing “What?” So Tess didn't know who the woman was either!

“I know what you did to Brad! You used him to get famous and now you're nothing. You jealous piece of trash!”

“I... huh?” I stammered.

“Just because Brad didn't want you, you had to make sure no one else could have him either!” She came to a stop in front of me, her hand slamming the top of the lectern. My notes slid to the floor and I stepped back in alarm.

“I don't know what you're...” I started to say, holding my hands up, my palms flat but protective.

“Oh, please! Brad was going to divorce you and marry me! But you couldn't stand knowing that. Even after your torrid affairs and trying to steal his money. You're crazy! I know he tracked you down... and you murdered him!”

“I don't understand...” I flashed another look at Tess.

“Now, just wait a minute,” started Tess.

“Brad loved me,” wailed the strange woman. “He promised to marry me just as soon as he could and you stole him and killed him!” she hiccupped between tears.

“See?” came a conspiratorial voice from the audience, just loud enough to be audible over the shocked gasps. “Kate was spot on. She's a killer, all right. It's always the quiet ones that nobody suspects!”