21

“This is a terrible idea,” I muttered as I peered out of the plate glass windows of Death by Coffee into the gray morning. “I’m going to die. This is it; the end.”

“What was that, Ms. Hancock?”

I turned away from the window to find Jeff giving me a worried look from near the stairs.

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m just talking to myself.”

“I do that sometimes.” He ducked his head and then slunk upstairs into the books like I’d scolded him.

I’d come in and helped open the store, but that wasn’t the main reason as to why I was at Death by Coffee in the frigid early morning. No, I was here to meet my friend Cassie Wise for what I was quickly realizing was going to be a death-run.

The morning rush had already come and gone, leaving only a handful of die-hard coffee drinkers sitting as far away from the plate glass windows as they could get. My own coffee was steaming hot, and yet, no matter how much I drank, I just couldn’t seem to get warm.

Pooky and Eugene were busy restocking and resupplying behind the counter, while Jeff was handling the shelving of books upstairs. I had a feeling that it was going to be a slow day because no one in their right mind would want to be out with it being as cold as it was.

And it’s supposed to only get colder.

I sat and held my coffee close as I watched out the window for Cassie’s arrival. After last night’s festivities, I wasn’t in much of a mood for a run, but I’d promised her I’d be here. If I canceled on her, then she wouldn’t go, and then I’d feel bad for ruining her exercise.

So, I was going to do it. Though I did have an ulterior motive for going out. No, make that two of them. Erin Carver and Agnes Komph.

If anyone would know more about Doris’s late husband Dave’s death, it would be Erin. And if Andrew’s murder was retaliation for Dave’s murder—not that I was positive it had been murder, but it was a decent assumption after what I’d been told—I was curious as to how Agnes fit in. What better way to “happen” upon the two women than to do so while on a morning jog with a friend?

There were still the same holes in my theory as there were with my other theories. If Andrew’s death was tied to Dave’s, then why target Jules? A distraction? A mistake? When I’d asked Jules if he knew Dave, he’d said no, and I believed him.

Five more minutes passed before Cassie appeared, walking briskly down the sidewalk. She saw me in the window, grinned and waved, before she entered, bundled from head to toe.

“I’m going to grab a quick coffee and warm up before we head out,” she said.

“Take your time.” I might want to talk to Agnes and Erin, but I had no problem putting it off for a few more minutes if it meant I could stay inside a little while longer.

Cassie went to the counter, ordered, and then carried her coffee over to me. She sat without taking her heavy coat off.

“The cold will be good for us,” she said. “Fresh, crisp air. It’s good for the lungs.”

My lungs were already burning from my short sprint to and from my vehicle. “Are we doing the usual loop today?” I asked.

Cassie sipped her coffee, nodded. “Unless you want to add to it?”

“Maybe a little.” Our normal route didn’t take us past Heavenly Gate. I didn’t know if Agnes or Erin would be in the shops, but I was holding out hope that at least one of them would be. “I’ll see how I feel once we get going.”

“Don’t force it for my sake,” Cassie said. “I know there’s a lot going on for you right now, so if you want to call it off . . .” She trailed off, leaving me an opening I desperately wanted to take.

“No, I’ll be okay,” I said, knowing I was going to be anything but. “I was wondering . . .” It was my turn to leave the thought hanging. I was curious about something, yet I wasn’t sure Cassie would want me prying.

“About?” She drained her coffee and stood so she could start her pre-run stretching routine.

“On our last run, when we went to Phantastic Candies, you left before Detective Buchannan arrived.” I considered getting up and joining her for stretches, but decided to huddle closer to my quickly cooling coffee instead. “Was there a reason you didn’t want to see him?”

Cassie spread her legs, placing her feet at shoulder width, and then bent sideways at the waist, stretching her arm over her head. She considered the question for a five count before she straightened and shrugged.

“Not really. I like going on runs with you and I’m excited for when the gym finally opens, but I have no interest in getting involved in murders and police business. I know it’s your thing, and I’m totally okay with you wanting to help a friend. It’s just . . .” She spread her hands. “I like my life simple. Talking to the police is anything but.”

I couldn’t fault her for that.

I finished off my coffee, and then attempted a few stretches myself, which mostly consisted of me bending my knees a few times. No grabbing my foot and standing on one leg or bending myself in half. Once that was done, I bundled up tight, said a silent prayer that I wouldn’t freeze to death, and then followed Cassie out the door.

The cold air was like a shot of adrenaline. My first instinct was to use it to run right back inside, but I gritted my teeth and kept pace with Cassie as we started our normal route, taking a left from Death by Coffee, which put us heading in the wrong way from the other two shops. My vision was obscured by the white plumes caused by my breathing, but not so much that I didn’t notice the car that pulled away from the curb the moment we started moving. A subtle glance back told me the car was indeed following us.

I couldn’t make out the driver without turning and staring. I kept hoping the car would pick up speed and pass us, but it never did. It crept along, pumping out a thick exhaust that blew past us every time the wind picked up.

“Cass?” I said, keeping up the pace, all while fighting the urge to stop and confront our tail. “Did you see that car? It’s still behind us.”

“I see it.” There was the slightest twinge of nervousness in her voice. “Should we cross?”

With a car coasting slowly behind us? A car that might hold a killer, nervous about my nosing into his or her business? I didn’t think so and said as much—leaving out the whole nervous killer bit, as not to scare Cassie more than she already was.

But we couldn’t keep running in a straight line forever. Turning might spook our tail, but it would make them have to act. Speed away, stop and confront me. Either would be better than having them behind us.

“Let’s go back to Death by Coffee,” I said. “Turn around as one?”

Cassie nodded, her pretty face showing her stress in pressed lips and a pinched brow.

“Now!”

We spun in unison. The car turned out to be a small blue Mazda that looked like it might have been old and rickety twenty years ago. A woman sat behind the wheel. She was wearing a heavy fur-lined coat with the hood pulled up and cinched under her chin. She was leaning forward to peer at us over the steering wheel, eyes wide and scared.

Cleo?

The car jerked to a stop as she slammed on the brakes, causing more exhaust to bloom. It was enough to cause me to cough and to have to wave it away. Both Cassie and I slowed until we were standing right beside the car. Cleo rolled down the window.

“Krissy Hancock?” she asked, voice trembling. She sounded unsure.

“Cleo.” I stepped up to her car. “Are you following me?”

“I . . .” She frowned, then nodded. “I suppose I was. It’s just . . .” Her eyes flickered to Cassie, who was keeping warm by jogging in place. “I think I need to talk to you.”

“About?”

Cleo hesitated and looked into her rearview mirror as if she expected to have a tail of her own. When she spoke, she kept her voice low. It was nearly drowned out by the rumble of her car. “It’s about Doris.”

That was all I needed to hear.

“We’re heading back to Death by Coffee now. Meet me there?”

Indecision was plastered all over Cleo’s face as she thought about it. It made me wonder how long she’d been sitting outside of Death by Coffee, waiting for me to leave.

“All right.” It was followed by a sigh that was filled with an odd sort of relief. “This needs to be done. I’ll see you there.” And then, to herself as she rolled up her window, she said, “Doris isn’t going to like this one bit.”

* * *

“I didn’t want to do this where Doris might overhear, you understand? She is taking things too far.”

We were seated in Death by Coffee, as far away from the counter as we could get and still be in the dining room, which was blessedly empty. Cassie had opted to stick around, mostly on my insistence since I still wanted to finish our run—and to talk to Agnes or Erin if either were inside their husband’s respective shops. She sat with her arms crossed, looking like she wanted to be anywhere else. Cleo didn’t look much better.

“How so?” I asked.

“She’s pushing everyone hard this year, forcing us to act on her impulses, even if we don’t want to.” Cleo shook her head. “It’s not right. Some of what she’s telling us to do flies in the face of what many of us believe in.”

My tongue wanted to blurt out, “Like murder?” but my brain told me that might cause Cleo to change her mind about talking with me. She was perched at the edge of her chair, a finger snap away from bolting for the door. Every couple of seconds, she’d glance toward the window, as if she expected Doris to be peering in at her like a stalker in a horror movie.

“Is it about the local businesses?” I asked instead. “What does she call it? That we’re ‘exploiting the season’?”

Cleo nodded. “In some cases, I suppose I agree with her. There are stores that push unnecessary junk onto their customers, all for profit, and in the name of the holidays. It’s a disturbing trend that seems to only get worse as time goes on.” She paused. “But here? Selling a coffee drink or a Christmas book? How is that so bad?”

I agreed wholeheartedly, but didn’t say so. No sense in pushing the issue when she was willing to talk.

“And I’m not so sure that trying to get other groups thrown out of the church is such a good idea either. Everyone is entitled to the space, not just us. It’s gotten so bad lately, a few of the ladies have started to question Doris’s ways.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Like Erin Carver did?”

Cleo hesitated before answering. “That was a rough time for many of us. At first, I didn’t understand why Erin decided to leave. None of us did. But now, after seeing what Doris is capable of, I truly do wonder if Erin didn’t have the right idea. Her and Agnes.”

“Agnes?” I asked, sitting forward. “Was Agnes thinking of leaving the group as well?”

When Cleo spoke, she did so while staring out the window, voice barely above a whisper. “This was a few months back. Erin was already long gone, and while Agnes was dead set against her leaving at the time, something changed. She started becoming more and more reserved at group, wouldn’t immediately agree with whatever Doris said.”

Because what Doris was saying ran contrary to what Agnes was doing? I wondered. If she was cheating on Lee with Andrew and Doris found out . . .

I nodded for Cleo to go on.

“Eventually, Agnes started missing meetings. Doris couldn’t have that, not when she wanted to present herself as being strong and in control. So, she sent her a reminder of her faith.”

The phrasing caught me as odd, so I asked, “A reminder of her faith?”

Cleo nodded. “It’s a collection of items meant to remind—” She frowned. “Well, I suppose they’re meant to guilt those with flagging faith back into the fold. I think we’ve all received one from Doris at one time or another. There’s always something in the reminder that makes you feel like you have no choice but to come back, that if you don’t, your life will be over.”

I wondered if that meant over over, as in dead, but didn’t ask. “Do you know what was in Agnes’s reminder?”

Cleo shook her head, looked almost offended I’d even ask. “They are often very personal.” She got a far off look in her eye, as if remembering what was in her own. “Doris takes care to put them in these thick, brown plastic bags so no one else can see inside.”

Like the bag I’d seen Erin holding.

These reminders of faith sounded a lot like the blue-wrapped gifts that had started appearing around town. Could Doris have changed tactics and moved on from trying to work on her own flock, and instead, decided to go after those she felt were leading them astray?

It was something to think about.

“Annie told me Doris was once married,” I said. “And that her husband died under suspicious circumstances.”

Cleo paled, making me think I’d gone too far, but she didn’t flee like the last time I’d tried to talk to her. “Dave was a nice man,” she said. “Doris cared for him deeply, though she didn’t always show it.”

“They fought?”

“Don’t all couples?” Cleo started fidgeting. I was losing her. “I don’t know the details on what happened to him, and I don’t want to.”

“Could Andrew’s and Dave’s deaths be connected?” I asked.

Cleo swallowed hard, gaze drifting to Cassie, who had yet to speak a word. It was as if Cleo was begging her to speak up, to say something that would allow her to avoid answering the question.

Cassie, for her part, stared right back.

“Doris has a way about her.” Cleo spoke slowly, carefully. “She speaks and those who are willing to listen act on her words as if they are scripture.” She abruptly stood. “That’s all I have to say. I’m sorry if I wasted your time.”

And with that, Cleo pulled her hood up, and cinched it so tight I wondered how she could breathe, before she scuttled out the door.

“That.” Cassie said, pointing at Cleo’s vacated chair. “That’s what I was talking about. I can’t even imagine the stress that woman is dealing with, all because of this Doris lady. It’s upsetting.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and before I could ask her to finish our run, my phone rang. I checked the screen and was surprised to see it was from Shannon.

“I should take this.” When Cassie nodded for me to go on, I answered. “Hello? Shannon?”

“Krissy!” She practically shouted my name. “I really hate to do this, but can I borrow you for a little while?” In the background, a baby wailed. “I don’t know who else to call.”

“Is Shay all right?” Panic filled my voice. It didn’t sound like a pained wail, but what did I know about baby sounds?

“She’s fine,” Shannon said. “But I have an emergency to deal with. It’s . . . personal.”

I caught on quickly. “You need a babysitter.”

“Please, if you would? I know it’s short notice and if you can’t, just say so. I tried Trisha, but she and Robert are meeting with the bank and she can’t get away and—”

I cut her off. “It’s all right. I’ll be right there.”

“Really?” The relief in her voice was palpable. “Thank you so much. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Give me fifteen minutes,” I said. “There’s no need to thank me. It’ll be my pleasure.”

After another unnecessary “thank you” and “I’m sorry” we clicked off. I turned to Cassie, ready to apologize myself, but she waved it off before I could speak.

“Go. I overheard. It’s too cold to run anyway.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. I hated disappointing her, especially after making her sit through Cleo’s confessional.

“I’m sure.” She smiled to prove it. “Let’s try this again another day.”

“It’s a date.” I grabbed my coat and threw it on. “Thanks, Cass. I’ll make it up to you.”

“No need. Although . . .” A gleam came into her eye. “I think I’ll hold you to that route extension. It’s time we started pressing ourselves.”

My heart dropped and my knees weakened, but I put on a brave face. “I can’t wait.” I only hoped that when we did decide to push harder, it happened sometime after the New Year when both the cold and Andrew Carver’s murder were long behind me.