Daniel pulled up a few minutes later, and if the giant grin on his face was any indication, he was thoroughly loving that I’d had to be driven home last night. “So you had fun, huh?”
I shook my head and started to lift Mayhem into the cab of his pick-up truck beside Taco. “Actually, mind if we take your truck?” Daniel asked. “I know you don’t get to drive her much, so I thought we could give her some road time.”
“I love that idea. Just let me get the keys. Come in. I’ll get you some coffee, too.” I smiled as I held the front door open behind me. Daniel had bought me this truck a while back, and I loved it. But last night, it had been too small for all of us, and he was right – I didn’t get to drive her often enough. His plan was a good one.
I was just coming back from my room with the truck keys when Daniel shouted, “What happened here?” I came back into the living room and saw him staring at the back window. Only then did I realize I had forgotten to tell him about the broken window.
“Oh, right. That happened before we went out to dinner last night. Don’t worry. Tuck is on it.”
“What?! Why was Tuck here about a broken window?” Daniel’s face was suddenly bright red.
All the memories of what might have happened here came rushing back, and the fun lift I’d gotten from the margaritas and the time with friends last night came crashing down. “Well, it, um, it may have been a gun shot.”
“What are you talking about, Harvey?” Daniel took three long strides and was now standing right in front of me. “Clearly, I need to be brought up to speed.”
I glanced at my watch. “You do. But can I do that on the road. Tuck is coming to the shop at nine, and I don’t want to miss him.” The sheriff’s text had said he’d only have a few minutes, and I didn’t want to miss my chance to hear what he had to say.
“The sheriff is coming to your store. Again.” Daniel’s voice was practically a groan.
“He’s a friend, Daniel. He comes by all the time.” I was being purposefully obtuse, and I knew it. But I really didn’t want another lecture about how I needed to stay out of police investigations. Plus, I didn’t want to see the worry on Daniel’s face.
My boyfriend let out a loud sigh and flung his hands in the air. “Let’s go. But I want to hear what the sheriff has to say, too, okay? Deal?”
“Deal.”
On the ride back to the Steak Saloon, with Mayhem and Taco tucked into their custom-made dog crates in the bed, I gave Daniel all the details I had about the window and the possible shot that Tiffany heard. Then, I told him about Tiffany’s history with Coach Cagle.
To his credit, Daniel honed right in on the most important part of what I said, that Tiffany had been stalked and that he couldn’t imagine what that must have felt like. He was one of those rare men who, right from the get go, understood that a woman was always the victim in a matter of assault, no matter what she did. In fact, he loved to quote comedian Dick Gregory – “If I’m a woman and I’m walking down the street naked, you still don’t have a right to rape me.” – any time a victim was blamed for her assault because of what she wore or what she drank or what she said a few minutes earlier. Just another reason I loved this guy.
“But it does mean she had a really good reason to kill him,” I said after Daniel had finished his rant about how awful men were.
“She does, but let’s give her the benefit of the doubt, right? Besides, we aren’t investigating the coach’s murder.” He gave me a significant look as he pulled up next to the car in the restaurant parking lot.
“We are not.” I tried to sound convincing.
We got to the store shortly before nine, and I had just gotten the alarm off and the lights on when Tuck and Lu came in. I was surprised to see the sheriff’s wife with him, but I was happy, too. Lu was a fun, vivacious woman who was the perfect pair for her husband’s prankster personality. “Lu, good to see you. What brings you in?”
Tuck pulled out a chair for his wife, and she smoothed her denim dress under her and sat down. “I asked her to come,” the sheriff said. “Thought you should hear from her yourself.”
I sat down across from my friend, and she smiled softly. “Coach Cagle has been accused of several sexual assaults and at least two rapes. I’ve been working with some of his victims, encouraging them to press charges. But they were scared,” Lu said.
I nodded. I knew that very few victims reported sexual assault and even fewer testified because of the low rate of conviction and because of the way the victims got tried publicly for what many considered “their part” in the crime. But when Lu said that only point five percent of attackers ever went to prison for their crimes, I was stunned.
Tuck shook his head. “I try. But there’s only so much I can do.”
I rubbed my hands together and let out a long slow breath. “When you say that, it makes me understand why someone thought killing Coach Cagle was the right thing to do.” I looked from Lu and Tuck, worried that I might have just offended them. After all, law enforcement was their life.
“You won’t hear me arguing,” Tuck said. “Now, I didn’t say it was right, but I do understand why someone might do it. Still, we don’t really know that’s the motive.”
Lu stared at her husband and said, “We don’t know know, I agree. But we know.” Tuck nodded.
I figured this might be the time to tell them about Tiffany, even though I felt a little like a rat sharing her story. Still, I knew that Tuck and Lu wouldn’t go spreading gossip, and I also knew that Tuck needed to know, just in case my gut instinct was wrong. So I relayed what Tiffany had told us last night, and Tuck took notes.
“So that’s where you all were going?” Tuck said with a shake of his head. “I told you not to get involved in this, Harvey.
“I know. But I didn’t really know anything to share until last night, and here I am telling you.” I raised my eyebrows innocently.
“You could have told me last night.” Tuck’s voice was stern.
“Actually, I couldn’t. We had a few too many margaritas. Stephen and Walter had to bring us home.”
Lu threw back her head and laughed. “That is great, Harvey. You deserve to kick back sometimes. And this information about Tiffany, it’s good for the case.” She leaned forward and held my gaze. “But I’m more worried about her.” She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a small blue card. “If the time seems right, maybe you can give her this.”
I looked at the card and saw a number for RAINN’s sexual assault hotline. “Sure. I don’t know if she’d call, but maybe.” I looked at the card again. “Got any more? I’d like to put a stack by the bulletin board in the café. You never know.”
“Nope, you never do,” Lu said. “I’ll bring some by later today.” She and Tuck stood. “You know there’s a big fundraiser for RAINN at the winery on Saturday, right?”
“Actually, Tiffany and I will be working there with Mart. She just recruited us this morning.”
“Great,” Lu said. “Maybe you can introduce us? I’m always eager to meet new folks, but also, maybe . . .”
“Absolutely. Always good to know of people who can help. Thanks, Lu.” I gave her a tight hug and then looked at the clock above the café counter. “Oh, man, Rocky will be here shortly.”
“Got it. We’ll bounce,” Tuck said, and his wife winced.
“Nope. Doesn’t work for you. Besides, I don’t think anyone even says, ‘Let’s bounce’ anymore,” Lu said with a laugh. “See you Harvey.”
For a Thursday, we were remarkably busy. Apparently, a lot of people from Baltimore and even Philadelphia had decided to spend the weekend in town for the Harvest Festival, so our foot traffic was up. We were selling pumpkin-themed books left and right, which I took to be a sure sign that those of us who love pumpkin outweighed those people on social media who seem to loathe the stuff. I, however, was finally wise enough to know not to engage that, or any debate, online and just reveled in the good sales figures.
Marcus’s after-school entourage came in right on schedule. This bevy of teenage girls clearly had a crush on my assistant manager, and while he was obviously quite devoted to Rocky, he was also kind and polite to these young women. And his kindness meant they came back often, which I didn’t mind. Bookstores aren’t always the hang-outs for teenagers, but I liked their presence. Plus, they bought any book Marcus recommended. Today, he was telling them about Artemis Fowl and suggesting that while they were certainly too mature to be the intended audience, “I think you’ll still enjoy the playful way Colfer uses the stereotypes about fairies and such.”
The girls were agog with his kind assessment of their literary abilities, and I was equally impressed at his ability to recognize books that might not seem a good fit for a reader but actually were perfect. These teens loved urban fantasy, so steering them to a middle grade series that featured character types they’d know, but a in a new way, was super wise and might just broaden their reading tastes a bit. Masterful, that guy.
I was just listening into Marcus’s conversation with the girls as they checked out when Scott came in. I smiled as I saw my new hairdresser and hoped I had done his cut justice with my very slim efforts toward styling this morning. “Hey, Scott. Glad to see you here.”
“Well, I had to return the favor of business for my new client and fellow business owner. Point me to the manga, please.”
I nodded and walked him toward the small section of graphic novels, comic books, and manga. “We don’t have a lot here, so if you have recommendations of must-have titles, do let me know. I don’t read much manga, but I’m always open to suggestions.” I ran my hands through my hair, pulling on the blue stripe self-consciously. “In fact, the only graphic novel I’ve read ever was The Watchmen.”
“Well, if you’re only going to read one, that’s a good choice. What did you think?” he asked as he pulled a Sailor Moon anthology off the shelf.
“I liked it. I mean I liked the characters and the plot, but to be honest, reading and studying pictures at the same time isn’t my favorite. Probably I’d get better at it if I tried, but well,” I gestured around the store, “with so much . . . I do love reading . . .”
“Got it. Too many books, too little time.”
“Exactly.” I looked back toward the front of the store to see a customer headed toward the register. “Well, just let me know if you need anything.”
He nodded and turned his attention back to the shelves in front of him as I scurried up to ring up a customer’s beautiful coffee table book of Andy Goldsworthy’s art. I spent a bit of time talking to the older man about his purchase, and it turned out we were both avid Goldsworthy fans. By the time I thought to check on Scott, he was already in the café chatting with Rocky.
Marcus was tidying the front tables, so I took a minute to step over for my afternoon latte. As I walked over, I heard Scott say, “Oh yeah, I used to be fast – 4.6 in the 40-yard dash, if you can believe it.” He patted the slim curve of his belly. “No way I could do that now.”
“4.6 – that’s fast. Like almost Olympics fast,” Rocky said. “I never did have speed, just distance.”
“You were a distance runner, Rocky?” I asked, totally butting in and not caring. “I didn’t know that.”
“I am a woman of mystery, Harvey Beckett. You should know that by now.” She laughed. “Scott was just telling me that running was the best part of football for him.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone say that about football. After all, running doesn’t have much to do with the ball, does it?” I shrugged.
Rocky and Scott shot each other significant looks. “Gracious, Harvey. Have you ever watched football?”
I felt my face redden. “Of course. But isn’t the point to throw the ball and catch it?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I imagined a field with a bunch of men running – running very fast in fact – to catch the ball.
“And who catches--” Rocky started, but I interrupted her with a raised hand.
“Those fast dudes who catch the ball – you were one of those, right? Tight end?”
Scott chuckled. “Good memory. Yep, I was one of those fast dudes.”
I smiled as I felt my brain trying to tick off some box. I needed a moment for my mind to catch up. “Well, I will not be moving at all if I don’t get some caffeine. Fill me up, Rocky?” I held out my blue, hand-thrown mug.
“Sure thing,” Rocky said as she winked at me.
As I watched her fill my cup, I tried to follow the gossamer thread of thought my brain was trying to weave. Something about Scott and running . . . I came back to the moment when Rocky waved the cup of cinnamon-covered warmth beneath my nose.
“Earth to Harvey,” she said. “You okay?”
I laughed nervously as I glanced from her to Scott. “Sorry. Just got lost in my thoughts there. Thanks for this.” I waved to her and Scott and headed back to the bookstore. I just couldn’t quite get to what my brain was saying, but I knew myself. It would all come together eventually if I just gave myself enough time.
Unfortunately, time was not something I had a lot of for the rest of the day. The customers kept coming in steadily, so I stayed on past my scheduled hours to help Marcus and to replenish our pumpkin books in the window. It just wouldn’t do to have an empty window display before the weekend.
By the time we closed at seven, I was beat and really just wanted to go home, eat marshmallow cereal for dinner, and watch more Outlander. But we had a float meeting first, and we needed to get going on finishing our float. I didn’t want to be here until midnight tomorrow trying to get everything finished.
Fortunately, Cate and Lucas came with Sasquatch, their Miniature Schnauzer, and, as usual, they had dinner in hand. This time, it was a huge platter of lasagna that Lucas had made from scratch and a large salad. Plus, I was thrilled to see a big box of his famous cupcakes. And soon we were joined by Stephen and Walter, our friends Henri and Bear Johnson, Pickle and Lois Herring, and even Woody, with my planter boxes at the ready. Mart brought Tiffany, too, and Daniel sauntered in with Taco just as we got everything set up.
The dogs gobbled down the special meal of chicken and rice that Lucas had whipped up just for them, and Mayhem then led their retreat to the dog bed in the window, where I saw both tourists and locals stopping to wave and take pictures. Once again, I gave thanks for my idea of having a dog-friendly shop. It probably was the primary source of my business some days.
Soon, everyone had paper plates full of pasta, crisp salad, and a cupcake (or two in my case), and we were perched around on the chairs and ottomans that Marcus and I had gathered in the fiction section. I again wondered about having some evening picnic-style potlucks here in the winter months – this kind of gathering was just so much fan, and when the tourist season pretty much shuttered after this weekend, maybe local folks would enjoy a quiet evening out at the bookstore. I texted myself to remember to look at the calendar for November and see if we could get that scheduled. Then, I focused all my attention on Lucas’s amazing lasagna – with sausage and hamburger, perfect amounts of cheese, and a tomato sauce that was just the right amount of sweet and basil-filled. If I hadn’t already had the second cupcake at the ready, I might have had seconds.
As we ate, we chatted about the harvest festival and the parade, about the latest news from the museum that Lucas directed, and, of course, about the murder. Mart and I exchanged a look when Henri mentioned the lawsuit, and I saw Mart reach over and discreetly rub Tiffany’s arm. But neither of us said anything about what she’d told us. That was her story to tell, well, unless she was a murderer. But I was still hoping that wasn’t the case.
Eventually, I figured we needed to get moving on the float, even though what I really wanted to do was rest my shoulders against Daniel’s chest and talk with my friends all night, so I stood and put on my jacket. Soon, everyone followed suit, and we trudged out the back door of the shop into the cold, dark October night. Woody had brought by some workshop lights, so we could see back in the alley, and soon enough, we were hard at work hanging streamers, painting signs on pieces of old paneling that Daniel had pried from the back of his office wall, and figuring out how to secure a big, but very lightweight pumpkin, to a hay trailer.
PIckle and Bear were in a full-on debate about pumpkin lashing when Symeon stepped out from the back door of Chez Cuisine. He looked flustered, but I didn’t think much of it given that he worked for Max. If I worked for that man, I’d be flustered – and irate – most every minute. But as I hung streamers from the gooseneck of the trailer, I saw Symeon’s pacing behind the restaurant get more emphatic, and soon I heard him talking to himself, as if he was psyching himself up for something.
I caught Mart’s eye and pointed toward Symeon with my head. She followed my gaze and then nodded before heading his way. They talked for a few minutes, and then, just as I finished making a total mess of my twist of yellow and orange streamers, they headed back toward us. “Hey, Symeon,” I said as I lowered myself from the trailer. “You okay? Looked like you were working through something major over there? Max getting to you?” I tried to look sympathetic and not nosy, even though I felt completely nosy.
He looked at me with confusion and then smiled. “Oh, no, not Max. I can handle Max.” He winked at me, but then his face grew dark again. “No, it’s what I was hearing from one of my tables. My uncle . . .” He looked at Mart and then at everyone else, who had since stopped work to look at him. “Never mind. I don’t want to gossip.”
Tiffany stepped forward to the edge of the trailer from where she had been helping Daniel secure a custom-made dog bed as Taco’s perch for the parade. “No, what did you hear? I want to know.” Her voice was hard and brittle.
Symeon looked from Tiffany to Mart. When she shook her head slightly, he said, “It’s nothing really. Just people talking, probably.”
I felt a thud beside me, and then Tiffany was in Symeon’s face. “Tell. Me. What. You. Heard,” she said and thrust a finger in Symeon’s face.
Symeon took a quick step back, and Henri stepped up and slid an arm around Tiffany’s waist. “Clearly you have some feelings about Coach Cagle,” Henri said calmly, “ but there’s no need to take that out on Symeon here. Surely you can see he’s having a hard night?”
Tiffany’s scowl slowly softened, and it seemed like she might be seeing Symeon for the first time. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s just, that man.”
Hands raised, Symeon said, “You’ll get no argument from me. He was a total cretin. I never liked the guy, but I didn’t know he was that bad.” He laced his fingers behind his head and looked up at the sky before turning back to Tiffany. “But maybe he was.”
“Sorry,” Tiffany said as she laid the hammer she’d been using on the trailer. “I think I’d better go.” She hugged first Mart and then me and put an arm on Henri’s shoulder. “Thanks, everyone. See you at the parade.”
I watched her slip back into the shop and followed her, but by the time I reached the counter, she was already going out the front door. I turned the lock and watched her as she got into her car and sped off down the street. I felt the RAINN card that Lu had given me in my pocket and decided that tomorrow I’d find a way to see Tiffany and get that to her. Clearly, she had some unresolved struggles, and their volunteers just might be able to help.