Jill wasn’t taking any chances this time and I found myself smirking as Ryan glared while she locked his door personally, him trapped inside. Hey, he had an en suite, right? And Mom fed him, so he’d be fine for now. And yes, I did have to be standing behind her, arms crossed and a grin on my face, as she treated him like a naughty toddler who should go stand in a corner for the rest of the day.
Because. I said so.
He was the last of the guests to be thus confined, leaving me, Mom, Bill and Jill out and about. Barry begged off, hiding in his room, the whiner. Fine, let him. The sight of him was starting to irritate me anyway, as was his annoying attitude. If he complained one more time about being in the wilderness and not having internet access I was going to do him serious harm. Yes, I was as unhappy as he was about being cut off from the world, but he hadn’t been shot at, had he? And he thought he had things hard because he couldn’t check social media.
Instead of adding another body to the mix, I followed Jill downstairs in the late morning sunshine, joining my mother and the looming maintenance man who sat quietly on a stool and munched some cookies Mom handed him. Moose drooled at his side, Petunia not much better, while my mother fed the two lurking canines bits of fruit to keep their minds off the chocolate.
Yeah, that was working.
Jill exhaled and rubbed at her temples, clearly suffering. I patted her shoulder and handed her a cookie, pouring her a glass of milk. She took both though she looked like she barely understood what she held as she spoke.
“Okay, so, Dan.” I shrugged as I helped myself to my own decadent treat. Mom made amazing cookies. “Motive,” I said. “For Gallinger.”
Jill nodded. “His father’s business in ruins, he vows to take down the man who crushed his family’s dreams.”
Huh, Crew never sensationalized suspect chats like that. I kind of liked it. Helped me visualize. Though, imagining someone as open faced as Dan Robles plotting someone’s murder felt off.
“How long ago was it?” I’d failed to ask Crew that question.
But Bill seemed to have the answer. “Are you talking about Robles and Robles Paper Mill?” I chewed as Jill gestured for him to go on. “Dan was just a kid, maybe in his early twenties. That was a long time ago.”
Huh. He and Gallinger were about the same age. “Do you think he held a grudge after all this time?” Stranger things were known to happen.
Bill pondered a long time, mouth crammed with cookie before he shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “Though I’ve known him for years and he’s never said it bothered him. Just mentioned it as fact, you know?”
Okay then. “What about Caleb?” He had military training, after all. But no motive. Hired to do the deed? But by who, and why?
“I think Adrian Winterton is our main suspect,” Jill said, helping herself to Mom’s offering as my mother slid the plate toward her and topped up everyone’s milk. So wholesome, this scene. Who would think we’d be discussing murder over the preferred snack of kids and good, clean fun? Said a lot about what I considered fun, I guess. “Motive, means and opportunity.”
“No one has an alibi for Gallinger’s death,” I said. “Not even us. The whole place was wide open. It could have been anyone. So I agree, we need to focus on motive.” And a cheating spouse was a pretty powerful motivator. “What about Eddie, though?” I wasn’t liking the fact he’d been the only one who’d been out and around with a loaded gun when Frieda, Bill and I’d been shot at. Though, it was pretty dumb of him to just saunter in carrying it if he had fired the bullet.
Then again, it was also very clever, if I flipped that around. Who would think he’d be so stupid if he’d done it?
Argh. I hated having so many possibilities.
“Do we think the murder has anything to do with whoever shot at us?” Bill sounded less worried and more curious. Huh. I wondered if getting shot at wasn’t something that bothered him. If so, I’d like to trade brains for a bit so I could shake the unease that clung to me despite the fact the suspects were all upstairs.
“And,” I said, having a horrible, horrible thought that would no doubt plague me and refuse to let me sleep even a single wink (if we were still stuck here tonight, that was), “what if whoever shot at us isn’t even here?” Jill seemed startled by that, Bill nodding slowly, like he’d already thought of that. “What if the shooter wasn’t one of the guests, but is someone who followed us up here? Killed Gallinger for that matter, too? Someone we haven’t even seen yet?” The shadow flittering by that night? Could it have been a total stranger after all?
Mom put an end to that terrifying line of thought. “We can’t know for certain,” she said. “All we can do is do our best to stay safe, Fee, and not go chasing boogeymen who likely don’t even exist.”
Right. Phew, thanks, Mom.
Jill, grim and quiet, finally sighed. “There’s nothing we can do at the moment,” she said. “Everyone’s locked in and we’re at a standstill with the investigation. Let’s finish up what we can, and if the bridge isn’t repaired in time, get a good night’s sleep and come at this again in the morning. Hopefully by then there’ll be an update on the bridge and we can bring in help.” Was she thinking about Crew?
We parted ways a moment later, Bill quietly thanking Mom for the cookies before leading Moose out, Jill staring at the remains of her milk long enough I took the hint when Mom didn’t move, either. Time for a Lucy Fleming pep talk? I could have used one of those myself, but had to settle for the grunting, snorting company of my cheerful little pug.
After a quick trip outside—nervous on my part—for Petunia’s benefit, I hurried upstairs to my room and locked the door firmly behind me. Yes, it was still daylight, but I’d been shot at only a few hours ago, right? Chicken. And now I had Mom to worry about, though I knew she had Bill wandering the halls with Moose and Jill to watch out for her. Still, I should have checked on her instead of rabbiting to my room.
Bad daughter.
I sank into the soft mattress, the quilt sighing under me, and stared at myself in the long mirror of the wardrobe. Time to drape the thing again, especially if I planned to nap and try to get enough rest to catch up with what I’d lost.
Pacing wasn’t exactly conducive to relaxing oneself, but my mind simply wouldn’t stop spinning. By the time the clock read 4PM, I’d worked myself into the kind of frenzied lather that usually led to me going out for a run before I became a danger to myself. Usually with Crew to bounce ideas against.
No Crew, though, was there? He was stuck on the other side of the river dealing with who knew what while I wore a hole in the hardwood floor, worrying about murder and who had been the actual target of the shot.
Thinking about him brought me back to sit on the bed, to stare into the mirror and face something I’d been avoiding. I looked myself in the eye and finally took a moment to think about Crew.
The future seemed to unfold in front of me despite my best efforts to keep my thoughts in check. It was hard not to flit ahead, to our life together, to love and maybe marriage and would we have kids? A house, a life here in Reading? We hadn’t even had a chance to check the compass marking at the bottom of the harbor at the Cutter Lake marina. I still worried Daisy might have told Rose about the treasure hunt, as unfair as that concern might be. It had forced us to bide our time, though, and I’d kept what I’d seen the night I almost drowned to just me and Crew, as terrible a friend as that made me. But I wanted to keep the hunt for the hoard to us, to the people I cared about. Half the fun—okay, all the fun—was the childlike glee we all seemed to take from the story. And knowing Crew’s grandfather was the author of the very book Grandmother Iris led me to, that he and his father both had the compass tattoo? That just made me feel all the closer to Crew.
Was that the catalyst for this recent declaration of love? No, it couldn’t be. Maybe it really was just the fact I’d almost died on him a few times. The risk of losing me could have been the kick he needed. Considering his beloved wife died young from cancer, I really did need to be more careful.
Still. While his proclamation made me very, very happy, as did his desire to let everyone know he loved me, apparently, his protectiveness could take a hike.
Besides, as I readied for bed and slid under the comforter, Petunia beside me, huffing her happiness at finally getting some rest, I reasoned that it was most likely Frieda had been the target of the shooter. I had nothing to do with any of the men, and aside from being Dan’s friend, neither did Bill. Which meant, too, the shot had nothing at all to do with the murder of Grayson Gallinger.
Which led me to Eddie, Dan and a very troubled mind. Sighing, still tired and unable to rest, I went downstairs to help Mom with dinner.
***
What was that? I sat up abruptly, heart pounding, a meep of terror escaping at the sight of a bulky monster with a wild mane staring at me from the side of the bed. Wait, that monster had a pug beside her and while my hair was a bit on the messy side thanks to the loss of my ponytail holder at some point, my reflection hardly qualified as a creature feature.
I exhaled my irritation at forgetting to cover the mirror into the quiet of the room, heart settling into a more normal pace while I rubbed at my tired eyes and realized I wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight. Dinner was long over, the evening quiet, the guests/suspects locked away again. Sure, the day had been tame enough. But with the cover of darkness, who knew what might happen? Restful sleep wasn’t in the cards, apparently. Not when I had to know why anyone would want to kill Frieda Tibbets.
It took a few minutes to brush my teeth and mash my mess of a hairdo into something resembling a bun at the nape of my neck, my heavy robe covering my pajamas as I eased out into the corridor and looked down the dark hall toward Frieda’s room. If she was anything like me she’d still be awake. Or, more likely, I’d be annoying her knocking, but I’d risk it.
Wait, was that footsteps? I paused just outside my door, head cocking to the side, Petunia halting next to me. Yes, definitely. And coming from downstairs. I eased to the top of the steps, frowning into the darkness, only then realizing someone turned off the upstairs hall lights, plunging everything into black. As for the sounds in the foyer, it was probably Bill, patrolling. He’d have Moose with him. Or maybe Jill, pacing, right?
I needed to find the lights, turn them back on before my nerves got the better of me. My gut twisted into a knot as I hovered at the edge of the steps, skin tingling even while Petunia let out a soft, startled woof of greeting.
Just as someone’s strong hands pushed me down the stairs.
***