CHAPTER 14

After we left Wyatt’s, Gilroy walked back to the station and I headed home. I saw Julia’s living-room lights on as I drove past her house, and though I knew she was wide awake and wanted to hear about my dinner date with Gilroy, I had other plans: a fire in my fireplace, my comfy couch, and my trusty yellow legal pad.

Writing down names, clues, dates, and other details always helped me see the big picture, but with Brigit’s death, it was more crucial than ever that I jot down what I had learned. As far as I could tell, there were multiple motives for her murder, not one of them more striking than the other, and that made for a knotty case.

I made a cup of decaf, got a fire going, and settled into my couch, tucking my legs beneath me. Charlie, Wayne, and Anika were my only focus. The way Gilroy had talked about Royce, he wasn’t considered a suspect, thank goodness. Julia was fond of Gilroy, but she perhaps was a little bit in love with Royce, and if Gilroy ever zeroed in on Royce, she would be hard-pressed to split her loyalty between the two.

Wayne’s motive for killing Brigit was the most straightforward. He was cheating on her and wanted out of their marriage. If word of his cheating became widespread, his real estate business would suffer. And Brigit had humiliated him with her flyers on the day she was killed. So he snapped and struck her.

Charlie’s motive was less clear. He was having an affair with Brigit, that much I knew. Maybe she had threatened to tell Wayne, as revenge for his infidelities, or maybe she had threatened to tell Anika, to force Charlie to choose between her and his wife. Either way, Brigit would have ruined Charlie’s marriage, though his business might have survived.

And Anika? My guess was she knew Brigit and Charlie were having an affair, just like she knew Brigit wanted to cause trouble for her at Town Hall with phony charges of embezzlement. The women were not friends. Far from it. So why did they try very hard to appear to be friends? Why the dinners at Wyatt’s several times a month?

Maybe they once had been real friends. It seemed the couples’ affairs were recent, so maybe once upon a time they had all liked each other. What had changed? At what point had they told themselves it was okay to have an affair with a friend’s husband or wife? I shook my head and set my legal pad on the cushion. For once, jotting things down wasn’t helping.

I went to the kitchen and searched the refrigerator for a leftover cream puff before I remembered I’d eaten them all. A morning stop at Holly’s Sweets was in order, though tomorrow was Valentine’s Day and she was bound to be busy. Shutting the refrigerator door, I suddenly recalled Gilroy saying he was off sugar. Maybe that vow had exacerbated his grumpiness at the station. I chuckled at the thought. I was the one who should have sworn off sugar, but in no universe, this or any other, was that about to happen.

I checked my watch, surprised to find it was only seven thirty. It felt much later. I’d just decided to make an early night of it when my phone rang. Julia, unable to contain herself over something, said she was on her way over. Sixty seconds later she was at my door.

“First, how was your dinner?” she asked, zipping through my living room on her way to the kitchen. “Can you fix us a pot of coffee? Decaf?”

“My dinner was fine.” I pulled two cups from the cupboard and started the coffee. “James is back to his old self.”

Julia plopped herself down at my table. “Who was he before?”

“Mr. Grumpy. Turns out he was worried that he’d put Brigit in danger by asking her to keep an eye on iffy finances at Town Hall. It was all a scam, created by Brigit herself.”

“Oh?”

Despite this being news to Julia, she was only vaguely interested in what I was saying. Joining her at the table, I asked her to spill the beans on what she was itching to say, pronto.

“Now, I don’t know if this means what I think it does,” she said, nearly quivering in her excitement, “but I overheard Anika on the phone.”

“How?”

“I was at Town Hall.”

“When was this?”

“I drove back to Town Hall to see how the decorations were going—after you went to dinner. I felt bad leaving like that. Well, no one was there, but when I was leaving, I noticed a light coming from the Records Section, so I walked down the hall.”

“Doesn’t Anika stop work at five o’clock?”

“She doesn’t have Brigit’s help anymore, does she? She needs to catch up on her work. Now stop interrupting. I don’t know who she was talking to, but it was a deadly serious conversation. She was almost whispering.”

“She didn’t see you?”

“I walk softly. So Anika said, ‘He’s setting you up. He’s fattening you for the kill.’”

“Seriously? Who talks like that?”

“Will you let me finish? Then she said, ‘I know you’re innocent, but the police don’t, and you know who’s to blame for that.’”

Now I was excited. “And then?”

Julia leaned back in her chair. “And then she turned and saw me.”

“What did she do?”

“She stared at me as though I’d been eavesdropping on her.”

“Which you had.”

“That’s not the point. She put her phone in her purse and sat down, calm as can be, like she’d just ordered a pizza. I tried to get her to crack, but she wouldn’t.”

I laughed. “Poor Anika.”

“What do you think it means? Do you think she was talking about Brigit’s murder?”

“I don’t know what else it could be. You have no idea who she was talking to?”

“Either Charlie or Wayne, don’t you think?”

“Probably. Was Anika already on the phone when you heard her?”

“Yes. She was at her desk with her back to the door. I was about to knock on the doorjamb when I heard her.”

“So she doesn’t know how long you were standing there?”

“I don’t suppose so. Why?”

A sinking realization hit me. “She might have said the name of the person she was talking to, or said something that identified him, and she doesn’t know for sure if you heard that.”

“Okay. And?”

“But if she’s smart and up to no good, she’ll assume that you did hear. And she’ll tell that person you overhead her.”

“Oh, I see.”

I rose to get our coffee, and as I poured our cups, I devised arguments to convince my fiercely independent neighbor that it wasn’t safe for her to be alone right now.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, taking her cup from my hand. “Am I in danger?”

In matters of safety, honesty was vital. “I think you should assume you are. We need to phone Gilroy and tell him what you heard. And I think you should stay here tonight.”

Julia agreed, reluctantly, and said she needed to run home and grab a few things for the night. As soon as we stepped onto my porch, I seized her by the arm and tugged her back. “There’s an SUV in front of your house,” I hissed. There was never a car parked in front of Julia’s house. She kept her deceased husband’s old Ford in her backyard garage and almost never drove it herself, and Holly never parked there. She and Peter lived just across the street.

Frozen like statues on the porch, we watched as the SUV’s door opened and out stepped Anika Mays.

“Hey, guys,” she said, waving jovially.

I let go of Julia’s arm.

“Did I scare you?” she asked, hooting with laughter. “I’m such an idiot! I know it’s late and I should have called.”

“I’m going to thump her,” Julia said under her breath.

Anika trudged up the sidewalk, opened my garden gate, and made her way up the front walk, stopping at my porch steps. “I wanted to talk to you, Julia, but then I saw you on Rachel’s porch.” She hesitated, waiting for my invitation.

“Come on up,” I said, waving her inside. I wanted to thump her too. Showing up unannounced two days in a row? What was she up to?

I took her through to the kitchen, told her to sit, and handed her a cup of decaf. “Why are you here? Is this about the phone conversation Julia overheard?” If she was going to be rude, I was going to be blunt.

“You know about that?” she said.

“You know I do, Anika.”

Anika gave me a long, icy look, abandoning piece by piece her jolly persona, and then turned to Julia. “I know you heard what I said, or part of it, and I wanted to explain.”

It struck me that Anika had very much wanted to talk to Julia alone, supposing—wrongly—that my neighbor was a naive pushover who would buy anything she was selling. My presence was causing her to improvise.

Julia, every bit my equal in bluntness, said, “I think it’s plain you were talking about Brigit’s murder.”

“Not . . . well, not really, because I was talking to Wayne, and he didn’t murder her, so, you know, not murder.”

“Who’s setting Wayne up?” I asked. “Charlie?”

Anika spent a moment in silent agitation, glaring at me, then said, “I think he is. But this is not your business. I’m talking to Julia.”

Julia guffawed. “It’s as much hers as mine, Anika. If you were going to tell me, you can tell Rachel. We’re talking about murder. The time for secrets is long past.”

I ignored Anika’s piercing stare and continued. “So you think Charlie is setting Wayne up to take the blame for Brigit’s murder? How’s he doing that? Have you talked to Chief Gilroy about this?”

Anika pushed her cup away, sending coffee sloshing over the cup. “I can see this was a very bad idea.”

I wasn’t finished. “Charlie’s your husband. Why are you trying to protect Wayne at his expense?”

Anika stood abruptly and literally looked down her nose at me. “You know the answer to that too.”

“Yes, I think I do.” I stood. “Chief Gilroy already knows what Julia heard, so there’s no need to tell him. I’m sure he’ll be contacting you soon.” It was a little white lie, but if it kept Julia safe, I was willing to tell it. “In the meantime, if you, Charlie, or Wayne have more to say, say it to the police. Don’t come here again and don’t go to Julia’s house.”

“You can’t tell me—”

“I second that,” Julia said. “Good manners dictate that you call first.”

Together we showed Anika the door, but I wasn’t convinced I’d seen the last of her on Finch Hill Road.