15
A bear strode across me, bringing me squinting awake to a frigid morning in my own bed. As soon as my eyes opened, Misfit hopped down, meowed, and then strode from the room, ready for his breakfast.
“I’m up,” I muttered, extracting myself from the tangle of sheets with some difficulty. The floor swayed ever so slightly as I made my way to the shower. My head felt stuffy and the crust around my eyes worried me. I was hoping it was due to my late night out and the little bit of wine I’d consumed, and not that Laura had given me whatever ailment that had been affecting her. I couldn’t afford to get sick, not with Christmas fast approaching and a potential killer on the loose.
Despite my grogginess—and worries over a possible growing cold—I felt pretty good about how the night had turned out. Talk of murder had evaporated as the group grew. Rita got to talk to Dad about the book. Lena talked to Paul nearly all night about police work and how she can best prepare for a meeting with Chief Patricia Dalton that he planned on setting up for her. Lena’s parents—mostly Janice—were enraptured by Laura and her fondness for exercise.
And me? I happily sat back and enjoyed myself without being the center of attention as I feared I might be when the night had begun. A good meal, with good friends and family, what could be better?
Well, I know what could have capped the night off perfectly, but it was not to be. Paul, citing an early morning, had dropped me off with a simple goodnight kiss before heading home.
Believe me, by the time we’d finished dinner and had driven back to my place, I was ready to end on a high note. You know, cuddles with the man of my life, and waking up with his arm thrown haphazardly across me.
Instead, I was roused by fuzzy footfalls across my bladder.
I made it through my shower, slowly waking up as I did. The stuffiness clogging my head, as well as the fog swirling in my brain, receded bit by bit. By the time I was out of the shower and making a pot of coffee, I was feeling far more like myself. I wasn’t up to whistling or smiling or anything that took much brainpower, but I wasn’t about to fall flat on my face either.
While I waited for my coffee and toast, I went to the window and checked on my neighbors via their cars. Caitlin appeared to still be home alone, while Jules had already left for Phantastic Candies. Lance’s car was still in the driveway, but I didn’t know if that meant he was home, or if he’d ridden in with Jules. Considering his worry, I was betting on the latter.
I let the curtain fall with a frown. Whoever had sent those gifts needed to be caught, murderer or not. I hated that everyone was having to walk on eggshells, that Jules didn’t feel safe anymore.
My toast popped and I headed over to butter it, mind a million miles away.
Every time I thought about the murder, I couldn’t help but think about Heavenly Gate. Everything seemed to tie back to the gift shop. Jacob. The Komphs and their issues with the Carvers. Agnes’s relationship with Doris Appleton.
My coffee finished percolating as I polished off my toast. A cookie later (in the coffee, of course) and I was out the door. I didn’t know what I planned on doing, only that I needed to talk to the Komphs.
It took all of two seconds for my steaming hot coffee to turn lukewarm in the arctic freeze that had befallen Pine Hills overnight. I gasped at the shock of it and instead of climbing into my Escape, I started the engine with my fob and rushed back inside the house to let the car warm up before even attempting to drive anywhere.
Curious about my abrupt about-face, Misfit sauntered in from the hallway, head cocked.
“Too cold,” I managed through chattering teeth. I took a gulp of coffee, which barely helped now that it was no longer hot.
Misfit didn’t seem impressed. Or to care. He swished his tail and headed into the kitchen to make sure I’d remembered to top off his food and water dishes. That done, he headed for the couch for his morning nap.
I gave it ten minutes before going back out into the chill. There was no snow, but the sky was an icy gray that hinted that it very well might be coming. It was cold enough for it, that was for sure.
My teeth chattered all the way downtown, and I was unable to stop myself from shaking. The inside of my vehicle had warmed, yet I was chilled to the bone, and I wasn’t sure anything short of a scalding hot shower would warm me up again.
I parked outside Heavenly Gate and then just sat there, idling. The thought of sprinting from my car to the door, which was only a few feet away, was almost too much for me to bear. I am a wimp when it comes to the cold. And pain. And this cold was painful, so it was a double whammy.
But I did it. In one not-quite-fluid motion, I shut off the engine and jumped out of the Escape. I jogged to the door in a cloud of expelled breath that froze on contact with the air. I pushed inside the gift shop with a gasp as warm air blasted into me, causing my entire face to feel as if it had burst into flames.
Two pairs of eyes turned toward me.
Neither appeared happy.
Doris Appleton stood at the counter where Agnes Komph leaned. I couldn’t tell if their identical frowns were because they’d been arguing before my arrival, or if they were unhappy about being interrupted.
“It’s really cold out there,” I said, hoping to break the ice, both figuratively and literally.
All it earned me were two continued stares, and Doris’s already pressed lips thinning even further.
“I could browse, if I’m interrupting?” I made it a question.
Doris heaved a put-upon sigh. “I don’t have time for this.” She picked up a pair of knit mittens and pulled them onto her hands.
“For what?” I asked, all nosy innocence.
“You.” Doris turned to face Agnes. “Think about what I said.” And then she zipped up her coat and walked past me with a haughty sniff. A blast of cold air entered as she stepped out onto the sidewalk, and then into a large Cadillac that, while old, looked well cared for.
“She’s not very subtle, is she?” I asked, taking Doris’s place at the counter.
Agnes didn’t so much as crack a smile as she straightened and picked up her handbag. She pulled the metal strap onto her right shoulder as if fearing I might try to steal it. “Can I help you?”
“I’m curious,” I said, eyes roaming the store. “How well did you know Andrew Carver?”
A beat, and then, “Not well.”
“You never met with him?”
I could almost see the wheels spinning in Agnes’s head as she considered how best to answer that. “We might have spoken,” she admitted. “What business is it of yours?”
“None, really. But I figure you might want to know about a rumor going around . . .” I trailed off, letting the implications dangle in the hopes that Agnes would take the bait.
She blinked at me. “And?”
“It’s about you and Andrew.” When she still didn’t react, I added, “You were seen together. There are some people who believe that you might have been—” I leaned in close and lowered my voice, just in case he was in the back, “—stepping out on Lee.”
Agnes’s eyes widened and a hand went to her chest, causing the strap to slip from her shoulder. She slid it back up as she said, “You dare!”
I raised my hands, palms outward, in front of me. “I’m not the one saying it. But there’s been talk. I thought you should know.”
“Who would say such a thing?” Agnes seemed genuinely offended. Either rumors—and Erin Carver—were wrong, or Agnes Komph was a fantastic liar.
“It’s not true?”
“Of course, it isn’t! I would never . . . who would . . . This is preposterous! Someone is out there trying to smear my name.”
As she spoke, her entire body shook. And because she was clutching her handbag, every time she raised that hand, the strap slipped from her shoulder to dangle by her right leg before she slipped it back up.
“Why would they do that?” I asked, voice calm.
“How should I know?” Agnes snapped, as if she thought I might be the one spreading the rumors. “There are people out there whose sole goal in life is to make others miserable.”
My first instinct was to ask, “Like Doris Appleton?” but I figured that would get me nowhere with her. I nodded for her to go on, keeping my mouth firmly shut.
“I am a person of faith.” Agnes punctuated each word by jabbing the top of the counter with her index finger. “I would never cheat on my husband. Never. And I would most definitely not do it with a man like Andrew Carver.”
“So, you never went to his house while Erin was out of town?”
Agnes’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Those wheels were spinning in her head fast enough that I imagined smoke leaking from her ears.
“Look,” I said, “I’m not trying to upset you. I’m just worried. Someone murdered Andrew Carver in his own store. They lured him there by leaving a Christmas gift outside his door.”
Agnes continued to stare, though her mouth did close.
“My friend Jules received a similar gift. A note inside made it appear as if I’d left it for him and wanted him to come to Death by Coffee that night.”
“And you think that was another lure?” Agnes licked her lips, swallowed hard.
“I do. But Jules called the police and they got involved, likely spooking the killer. He’s safe now, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try again.”
“I understand your concern.” Agnes had paled and was picking at her nails. Her handbag strap was now dangling against her thigh and she didn’t bother to replace it. It reminded me of Jacob and his wallet chain. “What does any of this have to do with me?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I want to help Jules, help find the killer before they strike again. So far, the only thing I know for sure is that businesses on this street have been targeted. Andrew’s Gifts, I believe, was the first. Then Phantastic Candies and Death by Coffee followed.”
“Do you think we could be next?” She glanced toward the back where I presumed Lee was hard at work.
“I don’t know. Right now, I’m looking for any and all connections.” I hated doing it, but I had to ask, “Do you know a guy named Jacob? He was here yesterday. Your husband kicked him out.”
“I remember.” Another furtive look toward the back. “Do you think he is responsible for what’s happening?”
I spread my hands. “I wish I knew. But he was seen arguing with Andrew the day of the murder.” I still couldn’t place him at Phantastic Candies or Death by Coffee, but that didn’t mean he’d never been there. I can’t be everywhere at once.
“And then he was here, causing Lee distress.” Agnes nodded slowly as she thought it through. “As if scouting his next victim.”
“Jacob might not be involved,” I said, feeling the need to point it out, though it wasn’t looking good for him. “And the gifts could be unrelated to the murder.” Doubtful, but possible. “But I’m willing to consider anything if it means catching a killer. That’s why if you know anything . . .” I trailed off with raised eyebrows.
Agnes considered it for a long couple of moments. She slipped her handbag strap back onto her shoulder, physically putting herself back together. When she spoke, she started slowly, almost carefully. “There is something you should know—”
The door burst open behind her and Lee Komph stomped from the back, curls of wood clinging to his clothing. He was holding a partially completed cross in one hand, a chisel in the other. When he saw me talking to his wife, his jaw muscles bunched, and his fists tightened.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded as he rounded the counter and marched on me. I could smell the wood shavings on him. If he wasn’t so darn intimidating, it might have been pleasant.
I took a step back, but he kept coming. “I’m talking to Agnes.”
“About?” Before I could answer, he snarled, “I don’t care what it was about. I don’t want you bothering my wife.”
“I wasn’t bothering her.” Not really. I took another step back. His intensity was making it hard to breathe.
Lee continued to loom over me, his tiny glasses perfectly perched on the end of his nose. He used his size and radiating anger to push me toward the door, step by step. He never touched me, never looked as if he might, yet I was compelled to back up all the way down the aisle until I was standing just inside the door to Heavenly Gate.
“We don’t need you coming in here trying to start something,” Lee said. “Neither Agnes nor I had anything to do with Andrew Carver’s death. And we most definitely don’t want to have anything to do with you.”
I almost blurted, “How did you know we were talking about Andrew?” but held my tongue. Chances were good Lee had been eavesdropping the entire time I’d talked to Agnes.
But if that was the case, what was said that triggered this outburst? Was he afraid Agnes might have said something that would implicate him in Andrew’s murder?
“I’m not trying to cause you any trouble,” I said, knowing it was pointless. Lee had pegged me as a troublemaker, and nothing I did or said would change that.
He reached past me with the hand holding the chisel—the tip came within an inch of my cheek—and pulled the door open. I had to skitter out of the way or he would have bopped me in the back with it. Or stabbed me with the end of his wood chisel.
“Go,” he demanded with a harsh jerk of his chin toward the exit. “Don’t come back.”
I glanced past him, to Agnes. She was still standing behind the counter, hand at her throat as she watched. She didn’t look concerned for my well-being, which I supposed wasn’t much of a surprise. She looked contemplative, as if she was wondering if I might be the killer.
“Now,” Lee barked when I didn’t move right away. His hairy bicep flexed when he did, showing me that Lee Komph was a well-built man more than capable of squishing me with his fists. Apparently, hand-carving wooden figures was good for your arms.
I scurried out into the cold like a chastised child afraid of further punishment. I turned to apologize, to try to smooth over whatever antagonistic thoughts Lee had about me, but before a puff of air could leave my lips, the door slammed closed and Lee was marching over to where Agnes stood. She said something to him before he vanished into the back with a fling of a hand. I assumed it was accompanied by an expletive targeted at me.
That went well.
I watched Agnes a moment longer, hoping she might come to the door to finish whatever thought she’d had before her husband had come bursting through the door to interrupt us.
Instead, she turned and followed her husband to the back, leaving me standing alone in the cold.
There is something you should know . . .
And whatever it was, it was something Lee Komph didn’t want me to hear.