13
Phantastic Candies looked a lot better than it had the last time I’d been there. The colorful bins were full of candy. There were no stray wrappers scattered about the floor. Even the counter was polished to a shine.
Jules, however, looked terrible.
When I entered, he had his head in his hands where he stood behind the counter. His hair, which was usually styled, looked flat atop his head, as if he’d only managed to run a quick brush through it before sprinting out the door. His clothes were basic, just jeans and a sweater, which was a stark contrast to his usual work garb of extravagant, joyous outfits meant to make the kids smile.
At the sound of me cramming my way inside the store with all my recent purchases, Jules looked up. He had huge dark circles under eyes that were red-rimmed. “Hi, Krissy. Let me help.” He started to round the counter.
“No, I’ve got it.” I dragged my bags into the middle of the room before setting them down. “How are you doing, Jules?”
He made a “so-so” gesture. “I haven’t slept much, but at least there’ve been no new mysteries showing up on my doorstep. You?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Any strange visitors?”
“Not a one.” He sighed. “Are we overreacting? Lance is ready to buy me body armor and replace the windows here with bulletproof glass. I just about had to knock him out to get him to let me come in to work today.”
I smiled. The image of Jules trying to fight Lance was amusing considering how buff Lance was by comparison. “He’s concerned for you.”
“I know. It’s flattering and all, but it keeps reminding me that someone out there might want to hurt me.”
“Have you come up with any suspects?”
Jules considered it a moment before shaking his head. “Not really. I haven’t gotten into an argument with anyone recently, nor has Lance, as far as I’m aware. And I have no connection to the murdered man, Andrew Carver, so why someone would target me, I have no clue.” He leaned onto the counter and gave me an imploring look. “What about you? Any luck cracking this thing? I know you’re not just out shopping in this cold.” He nodded toward my bags.
“No luck yet,” I said. “With Dad in town and Vicki and Mason in California, my attention has been split in a hundred different ways. Sorry.”
Jules waved off my apology. “Family is important. You should be spending time with them, not traipsing all over town in search of a killer.” He straightened and shed some of his malaise. “Do you have any big plans coming up? Lance and I are taking it easy this year, so I’d love to live vicariously through you.”
“My life is not all that exciting.”
Jules gave me a flat look.
“But I guess I am going out to dinner at Geraldo’s tonight with Dad, Laura, and Paul.”
“Really? Dinner with the whole family.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I’m not sure what’s going to happen,” I admitted. “Paul’s been hinting that he wants to talk to me about something big, but . . .”
Jules motioned for me to continue. “But?”
I didn’t know what to say. Every time I thought Paul was about to spit it out, something would come up and it would get pushed off for another month or so. Was he scared? Excited? Or was I overanalyzing it?
So, instead of trying to explain it to Jules, I said, “Laura’s been tired the last couple of days. I think she might have a cold.”
“Oh no, is she going to be okay?”
“She’ll be fine. But it means we haven’t hung out like we’d planned. I’m kind of worried she’ll call off dinner so she can get more rest.”
“Well, tell her I’m thinking of her when you see her. It’s terrible to be sick during the holidays. Growing up, I was stuck with a cold every Christmas and spent most of the day in bed. I felt bad for myself, of course, but also felt like I was letting everyone else down because I was feeling too icky to be social.”
“I’m sure your family understood.”
“They did, but it still wasn’t fun.” He paused a moment, eyes going distant, as if remembering those bedridden holidays, before snapping back to the here and now. “I did notice how you didn’t answer my question.”
I gave him my best “Who? Me?” expression before asking, “Do you know Agnes or Lee Komph?”
If he was surprised by the shift in subject, Jules didn’t show it. “I know Lee by reputation and have met Agnes a time or two. Why?”
“I’m not sure.” I gave him a brief rundown of what Erin had told me. “Do you think it’s possible Agnes and Andrew were seeing one another in secret?”
Jules drummed his finger on the counter before snapping his fingers. “You know, Agnes was in here a few days ago. She wandered around the store like a lost puppy for about five minutes, but she didn’t buy anything.”
“Was she waiting for someone?” Andrew, perhaps?
“If she was, I never saw who. She just walked around, checked the bins as if inspecting them for bugs, and then she left without a word.”
“That seems strange.”
“Yeah, it was, though at the time, I didn’t think much of it.”
“No one met her outside?”
“Not within my field of view. Honestly, I didn’t watch her for very long once she left. At the time, I had no reason to.”
I could feel it coming on, so I echoed his earlier, “But?”
“But now that I’m thinking about it, I vaguely remember her yelling at someone as she crossed the street. I guess some jerk was speeding and almost hit her, which caused me to look outside in time to see her turn right once she reached the other side.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was thinking. “Right. As in, toward Andrew’s Gifts.”
“Could be. Or she could have gone all the way to Death by Coffee for a hot drink. It was chilly that day. I did find it strange that she was walking around in the cold. She wasn’t bundled up for it, that’s for sure.”
Which made me wonder. Could something have happened to draw Agnes out into the cold? What if Andrew and Erin had a fight and she revealed what she knew about him and Agnes? He might have called Agnes in a panic, told her to meet him at Andrew’s Gifts once Erin left. That might explain why she’d waited around Phantastic Candies: she was waiting for Andrew to be alone, but didn’t want to do it at Heavenly Gate where Lee might notice her agitation.
“Do you remember what day this was?” I asked, mind racing. Could this have happened on the day Erin claims she saw Agnes and Andrew fighting?
“I don’t recall,” Jules said. “Sorry.”
The door opened and an elderly gentleman entered wearing one of those old hunting hats with earflaps. He touched the fuzzy front brim in greeting before he began perusing the shelves.
I grabbed some chocolate covered caramels and handed them to Jules to ring up. “I’ll let you get back to work,” I told him. “And if you get a chance, I could use some more candy canes at Death by Coffee. The peppermint cappuccinos are so popular, we’re running out almost as fast as I can stock them.”
“Of course,” he said, bagging up my purchase. “Are you sure you can carry all of that?” He eyed my multitude of bags with skepticism. “I could always take a break and help you carry everything to your car.”
“I’ll be fine, but thanks.” I took the candy and gathered my bags, which was a bit tricky, considering I was out of hands. “And don’t worry yourself. We’ll both be okay.”
“I hope so.” He wrote something down on a pad by the register. “If I get a chance later, I’ll drop off the candy canes. I’ll call ahead when I’ve got them all packed up and ready to go.”
“Thank you, Jules. Tell Lance I said hi.”
“Will do.”
I left and began the long walk back to Death by Coffee. Thankfully, because my mind was so far away, the cold barely registered, though my body was still affected by it. The fire burning at my nose and the tips of my ears was raging to the point I was worried I’d given myself frostbite. By the time I’d reached my Escape and shoved all my packages inside, I was anxious to be inside. I all but ran through the doors of Death by Coffee to have a peppermint cappuccino and enjoy it in peace, but alas, it was not to be.
“Ah, Ms. Hancock. Just the woman I was looking for.”
I jerked to a stop, suddenly wishing I’d remained out in the cold. “Detective Buchannan,” I said, keeping the distaste out of my voice. “Here for a coffee?”
He was holding a Death by Coffee cup, hence the question. He scowled at it as if annoyed to have been caught partaking before answering. “It wasn’t my intent when I arrived, no.”
Behind the counter, Beth gave me an apologetic look, as if Buchannan being here was somehow her fault. Eugene and Lena were up in the books, lingering at a shelf, watching. When I glanced at them, Lena gave me a thumbs-up.
“Let me get a coffee and we can talk,” I said, resigned. If John Buchannan was here, that meant he wanted to discuss the murder investigation, as Jules had warned me he would.
Buchannan looked like he might object before he nodded and found a table to wait for me. He made sure to sit so he could keep an eye on me, just in case I decided to make a run for it, I supposed. I swear, one day he’d learn to trust me to do the right thing.
“He got here fifteen minutes ago,” Beth said when I reached the counter. “He said he’d wait for you since your car was outside. I tried to tell him that you might not come inside, but he was determined to stick around until you showed.”
“That’s all right. I should talk to him.” Even though I’d hate every second of it. I ordered my peppermint cappuccino and leaned on the counter to wait for it. “Aside from Buchannan, has everything gone smoothly since I’ve been out?”
“As butter,” Beth said, handing me my drink. “You made us all a little nervous after that talk this morning, but after a while, we all settled down.” She glanced up the stairs, toward where Lena and Eugene were now chatting.
“Is she doing okay?” I asked Beth, nodding in Lena’s direction.
There was a slight hesitation before her response. “I think so.” A frown. “Something’s bothering her, though. I just don’t know what it is.”
I had a sneaking suspicion it involved a bruise and Zay, though I wasn’t going to say it out loud. Boy, did I hope I was wrong because I liked Zay, even though I’d only met him a few times.
Behind me, Buchannan cleared his throat.
I heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “Thanks, Beth. Let me know if something changes.” My eyes flickered toward Lena.
She nodded, shot Buchannan a disgustingly sweet smile, and then turned to make a fresh pot of coffee.
I carried my drink over to where Buchannan waited, taking my grand old time. Petty? Sure. But with how Buchannan has always treated me, he deserved it.
He gave me until my butt hit the chair before he started in. “What do you know about the gift Mr. Phan received?”
“It was wrapped in blue wrapping paper.”
Buchannan shot me a glare.
“That’s it.” I crossed my arms.
“So, you’re saying you have no idea why the contents pointed Mr. Phan to your store?”
“No clue.” I dropped my arms, discarding the attitude. “I wish I did. I haven’t gotten a gift, a threat, or had any encounters inside or outside of Death by Coffee that would make me think someone was after me.”
“And Mr. Phan?”
“Him either. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt him.” I paused, considered. “Do you think it could be a coincidence?”
“That he received a similar package as a murdered man? A package, I might add, that you took from the scene of a crime.”
I winced. “Sorry about that. Erin was taking it with her and I didn’t know what else to do.”
Buchannan grunted, still clearly unconvinced. I was just happy he hadn’t hauled me off to jail for my lapse.
Then again, there was still time for that if he was so inclined.
“Have there been any other gifts found?” I asked. “Maybe someone is simply trying to spread Christmas cheer and . . .” I trailed off at Buchannan’s pointed look. “Okay, it’s unlikely to be a coincidence.”
“You think?” He took a sip from his coffee. I did the same as he continued. “Do you have any theories as to who might have sent these gifts?”
“Hand delivered them.” When he just stared at me, I elaborated. “The boxes were hand delivered. There were no mailing labels on either box. They weren’t dirty, like they’d been in the back of a truck. Someone dropped them off in person.”
Buchannan considered that, and then nodded. “Go on.”
“It’s possible the killer could be on video if the Carvers have one of those fancy video doorbells.” I knew for a fact that Jules didn’t, but now, I was thinking of telling him to buy one. I planned on getting one for myself.
“I’ll look into it.” Said in a way that made me think he’d already thought of that. “Anything else?”
I took a long drink of my coffee before answering. “Lee and Agnes Komph could be involved.”
His brow furrowed. With Buchannan’s wife’s connection to the church—she helped organize events there—there was a chance he knew the Komphs through her work.
I explained my theory about Agnes and Andrew’s possible relationship, how Lee could have grown angry and killed Andrew because of the affair. Or Erin might have. Honestly, the more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed, considering neither Jules nor I fit into this scenario, but what else was I to think?
Buchannan appeared just as skeptical. His next question proved as much. “And how would this lead to you and Mr. Phan becoming involved?”
“I’ve asked myself the same thing.” Before he could comment on that, I went on. “Agnes was in Phantastic Candies a couple of days before the murder. Maybe she was meeting with Andrew about Lee or Erin. Maybe the killer saw her there and is afraid Jules will somehow put two and two together?” The last came out as a question.
“Put what together?”
I raised both hands and let them drop. I had no idea. “Maybe Lee followed Agnes, saw him with Andrew, and decided to kill Andrew for it. If he was afraid that Jules saw him, he might want to kill him too.”
“And you?”
“Jules is my friend and . . .” I trailed off. “Okay. I have no idea.”
We sat there in silence. Buchannan looked like a man who was regretting his decision to stop in, while I was trying to come up with some way to salvage the conversation. I wanted to help, but felt like I was only muddying the waters with my wild guesses.
Well, if I was making a fool of myself, I might as well go all in.
“There is this one guy,” I said, eyes on the table instead of Buchannan. I felt awful, but it needed to be done. “Jacob. I saw him have an argument with Andrew Carver the day of the murder.”
Buchannan perked up at that. “Jacob? Do you have a last name?”
“No, sorry. He’s my neighbor’s friend. Caitlin Blevins. You remember her?”
He nodded, motioned for me to continue.
“Well, he was at Caitlin’s the night Jules would have gone to Death by Coffee if he’d opened his gift. He could have been watching to see if Jules would take the bait. Caitlin also said Jacob was late for a meeting with another of her friends on the night of Andrew’s murder, and that he was acting strange while he was with her.”
Buchannan pulled his phone from his pocket and typed in a few notes. “When you say ‘with her’, you mean ... ?”
“Not with her, with her. He was just hanging out. They aren’t dating.”
He typed that in.
“I saw him again today.” Boy, I hoped Jacob was guilty of something because I felt like I was setting him up for a fall. “He was lurking outside of Death by Coffee and when I followed him, he went into a store called Heavenly Gate, which is owned by the Komphs. He got thrown out of it and had an argument with Lee right there on the sidewalk.”
“You followed him?”
I crossed my arms, returning to my defensive posture. “I wanted to talk to him. I thought he was looking at me.”
Buchannan sighed, typed something else into his phone, and then pocketed it. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”
I considered it, and then shook my head. “I think that’s it.”
He polished off his coffee in one big gulp and then stood. “I’ll check out your information, see if anything pans out.” He tossed his empty cup into the trash before leveling a finger at me. “I want you to be good and stay far away from this Jacob character. Same goes for the Komphs and Mrs. Carver.”
“I’ll try.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I mean it.”
“Okay, okay.” I raised my hands in surrender. “If one of them tries to talk to me, I’ll run in the opposite direction.”
“Good.” Buchannan scratched at his cheek, eyes going distant, before he snapped back into focus. “If I have further questions, I’ll contact you.” Meaning, don’t go looking for him.
“Got ya.”
Buchannan started to leave, but I stopped him. “You were here last night, right?”
His jaw firmed, eyes going hard. “I can’t discuss—”
I cut him off. “Did anyone show up?” I hated the pleading sound in my voice, but couldn’t help it. I didn’t want anything to happen to Jules. “Please. If you saw someone, then it would put my mind at ease to know you’ve got a suspect.”
A tense couple of seconds passed before Buchannan’s eyes softened. Was that compassion I saw there?
“No,” he said. “No one suspicious made an appearance.”
And with that, he turned and walked out of Death by Coffee, leaving me not quite convinced he’d told me the truth.