A Crusty Murder (13 page)

“What?” I asked.

“You know what,” Jack answered.

“No, I don’t,” I answered innocently.

“Melina, just tell me. There’s something I should know, so own up, right now.” Jack hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and waited with a cool and calculating attitude.

“The bunch of us gathered the other night and decided we’d watch out for one another. Nothing more,” I admitted.

“That’s not all, but we’ll get back to that in a minute,” Jack remarked. “Was every shop owner there? Did anyone act peculiar, at all?”

I shook my head. “Not that I can remember. It was an exchange of information, nothing more. George Carly said he’d begun to develop a relationship with Mrs. Peterson. That was the only strange thing I got from the meeting. What did you think, BettyJo?” I asked her.

“The same. I had a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that anyone would ever want a relationship of any kind with Mrs. P., let alone a romantic one.” BettyJo’s nose wrinkled in distaste, Jack nearly smiled, and Aidan rolled his eyes.

His head down, Jack murmured, “I see.” Then he added, “Let’s talk about what you’ve left out.”

“There’s nothing to say. I haven’t anything else to tell you,” I insisted. Never would I let this cop know I’d seen Aidan hanging about in the dark after he’d walked me home from the pub. I knew in my gut Aidan was a good man.

“I think you’ll find somebody has been lurking in the rear lot after dark,” Aidan stated. “Melina and I went out for a drink one evening. When we returned, I saw a man sneak across the backyard. He was of medium height and slight in build. He wore one of those jackets, ah, I think you refer to them as hoodies?”

All the while Aidan spoke, Graham had listened closely, as though committing to memory every speck of information Aidan shared.

“How long have you been in America, Mr. Sinclair?” Graham demanded. “And what is your business here?”

“Surely, you’ve already checked on that. I own a brewery in Scotland. My plan is to distribute beer, here in the States. While in town, I decided to take classes from the lass,” Aidan tipped his head toward me, “and we’ve become friends.”

Graham looked thoughtful. “You took her classes for what reason?”

“I was bored in the evenings, and Melina’s class was recommended by an associate.”

“Who would that associate be?” Graham wanted to know.

“Franklin Seever, he’s a local banker,” Aidan answered.

I heard BettyJo gasp. She rounded Aidan and punched him in the arm. “You didn’t tell me you knew my father. Have you been spying on me and reporting back to him?”

Aidan rubbed his arm and put his hands up to ward off another such attack. “Lass, I didn’t even know your last name was Seever. How could I have known Franklin was your father? I’m surprised you’d think I’d do such a thing.”

“I’ll be double checking your story, Mr. Sinclair,” Graham promised. “You’re sure the person in the lot that night was a man?”

“Aye, I think it was a man. Women don’t run that way.”

His eyebrows hiked, Graham asked, “What way do women run?”

“They have a girlie run, not that of a sprinter. This was a runner, maybe even a marathoner. You get my gist?” Aidan’s accent grew heavier as his patience thinned. I’d never heard his words so contorted before. Sprinter sounded like sprainter, while run became roon.

I smiled, laid a hand on his arm, and turned to Jack. “I saw Aidan from my hallway window as I went to my apartment. I knew he wasn’t a lurker, but couldn’t figure out why he was there. Now we know, and that’s the end of it. The other shop owners have seen somebody out back a couple of times, so ask them about it. Maybe you’ll get a lead.”

With a nod, Jack said he’d be in touch and asked me how long I’d be closed for business.

“I’m not sure. It depends on the insurance company,” I answered. “At least two weeks, maybe more. Thank God the front and rear windows weren’t damaged.”

We watched Graham leave. Instead of driving away in his car, he hurried up the sidewalk. I peered after him, mashing my face against the window. The police cruiser sat parked between George Carly’s and Helena Bentwood’s shops. I beckoned BettyJo and Aidan to follow me along the rear deck of the building.

“What are you about now, lass?” Aidan demanded. “We have a lot of work to do yet.”

I turned and whispered, “I know, but I want to see who they arrest. We can listen at each shop. Then we’ll have an idea of who they’re interested in.”

We’d reached Helena’s shop. I pressed my ear to the back door. When I didn’t hear anything, I knocked. Helena didn’t answer. I tried the handle, but the door was locked. We moved on to George’s. No luck there, either. By the time we reached Kristina’s shop, sounds of commotion and breaking glass filtered through the window.

I reached for the door, but found Aidan had barred my entry.

“You’ll not get involved, Melina. Stay out of it,” Aidan ordered. “Please.”

He’d said please. Okay, I could live with that. Instead of barging in on Kristina’s arrest, I backed away and headed toward Mack & Mutt’s. The interior door was open, the screen door closed, but unlocked.

“Can we come in?” I asked when Carl Mack came to the door.

“You’d better. There’s a cop in the dining room, and another just arrested Kristina. What the hell’s going on, Mel?”

We stood in a tight cluster. Their kitchen was smaller than mine, which meant we were surrounded by huge wall ovens and countertops laden with deep rectangular pans filled with various toppings for pizzas and sandwiches.

Carl wiped his fingers on his apron and put his hands on his hips. “Tell me.”

“My shop was broken into,” I said. “The damage is astounding. Detective Graham is looking for information on the creeper who’s been hanging about. The techie who fingerprinted my place found prints from a fellow renter, and someone they call
a person of interest.”

“You weren’t hurt, were you?” Carl asked in return.

I shook my head. “No, I wasn’t there when it happened. BettyJo was out with Kristina, so I don’t know why she’s being questioned.”

Carl peered over my shoulder at BettyJo, his face troubled. “You were with Kristina?”

I turned toward BettyJo and watched her look everywhere but at us. “BettyJo? Did you lie?”

“She sure did,” Carl answered. “She was in the clutches of someone she’s had a crush on. Weren’t you?” He chuckled.

“Okay, okay.” BettyJo threw her hands up and admitted she’d been out with somebody other than Kristina.

“I didn’t want anyone to know.” BettyJo looked at each of us. “I’ve been seeing Martin Mason.”

Fish-like, I gasped for air. Aidan pushed my chin up with his index finger to close my gaping maw.

“When did this come about?” I demanded.

“After we met at the shelter. I went back and we got to talking, and, well, uh . . .”

“Wow, you could have shared, you know. I share with you,” I remarked.

“Don’t get all jumpy, Melina. It’s no big deal,” she answered shortly.

“Tell me this wasn’t about your mother. Tell me,” I moaned at the look on her face.

“I’m not admitting to anything. Martin is a nice man and we have a lot in common. That’s all I’m saying.” BettyJo turned to Carl and demanded he tell her how he found out about Martin.

“I happen to know his wife,” Carl confessed. “She brings their three kids in for pizza occasionally. When I saw you and Martin at the Charles Street Diner, I wondered what was going on. You two aren’t serious are you?”

BettyJo shook her head and made a zip-your-lips motion. She clamped her lips tightly together. I hid my curiosity over her actions, knowing full well BettyJo would never date a married man. There was more to the story than she’d say in front of the others, and I knew she’d undoubtedly share with me later.

Detective Graham was busy questioning Bill Mutton. I sneaked toward the side of the shop and watched as the other officer ushered Kristina Papien across the sidewalk and into the backseat of his cruiser. Incredulous over her arrest, I stepped back and made for the rear door, uttering a brief goodbye to Carl as I scooted out along with my two workers.

“Explain yourself, lass,” Aidan demanded when we’d returned to my shop. “Why would the police want to question Kristina?”

I opened my mouth to answer him when BettyJo interjected with, “Before you nag me, I wasn’t seeing Martin for romantic reasons. You were right, I wanted information on the woman we spoke to concerning my mother.” She shrugged. “It was a dead end. As for Kristina, she and Cindy are in cahoots. The cards say there’s trouble here, that two are making plans, and that we’re in jeopardy.”

I gazed at her, wide-eyed and speechless. Aidan had no such problem. He guffawed, snorted, and then asked, “You can’t be serious? Tarot is a lot of
keech
.”

Keech? What the hell was keech? I gave him a high-browed glance.

Aidan smirked and mumbled,” Sorry, I meant excrement.”

My snicker met his words, though I didn’t discount BettyJo’s ability to read cards and get them right more often than not. Her tarot abilities were well-known. Her clientele ranged from upper class to working class and even the occasional high school clutch of girls.

“How did Cindy enter the mix?” I wondered aloud.

“She came to have her cards read last night. She’s been a customer for a while now. I didn’t mention it, because we’ve been so overwhelmed with this mess today. I saw her worries, her machinations, and when she mentioned Kristina, it all added up.” BettyJo rubbed her brows with her fingertips and heaved a huge sigh.

“Don’t be angry, either of you,” she pleaded. “I didn’t think for a minute that you’d end up in this position. There’s no sound reasoning as to why you were selected as the victim of such viciousness.” BettyJo thought for a moment. Her face lit up like the lights on Providence’s skyline. “We were both incriminated, don’t you see? Your bread was stuffed in Mrs. P.’s mouth, but she was left in my shop. Then, I found Sondra dead with her mouth filled with muffin. This is crazy.” She slapped her forehead.

“Aye, it is, but there’s sense to it all the same,” Aidan acknowledged. “Could this Sondra woman have known more than she should have? That may have been the reason she was killed. Adding the food meant that you’d be suspected, Melina, but not necessarily that you, BettyJo, would find her dead. That would have been trickier.”

Tapping her lips with her forefinger, BettyJo remained silent while we stared at her. When I thought I’d burst with curiosity, she blurted, “I’d been at Kristina’s that morning. She mentioned Sondra’s sale and recommended I take a look.” BettyJo growled and then said, “That bitch even offered to go with me, but said she couldn’t leave the shop unattended. What a set up.”

“What did Kristina and Cindy have to gain by all this?” I wondered aloud.

“That’s what we need to figure out,” BettyJo said with a note of finality. “How we haven’t been arrested for these crimes must surely be due to the fact that Graham has a personal interest in you, Melina.”

Aidan snorted, then regained his composure.

I gave him a long look. Was he jealous, or did he think he was the only person who would, or could, find me attractive? “And what was that for?” I snapped at him.

He raised a hand and said, “Graham may be interested in you, who wouldn’t be? I’ll wager his interest has more to do with cultivating your friendship so he can establish the two of you killed those women. Men like him put job first, above all else.”

He was right, that’s how I’d heard cops lived their lives. They may have spouses and families, but the job always took precedence, always.

I agreed with a nod and said, “That’s true. Good point, Aidan.” I said it in a way that let him know all was forgiven.

A smiled flickered across his face. He leaned in and kissed my cheek while BettyJo snickered.

“I’m going to watch the entire building tonight. If the lurker returns, he’ll face me, not anyone else, is that clear?” Aidan remarked.

“Clear. We’ll be inside, warm and snug. No problem,” BettyJo assured him.

The wind coming off the bay got chilly at night. I didn’t envy him staying outside, even though I was thankful for his willingness to do so. We agreed to keep watch from inside while Aidan did his watching in the darkness.

“Stay in touch by cell phone if you see movement from your windows, won’t you?” Aidan asked.

“Sure thing,” I answered. The three of us exchanged phone numbers. I shipped the two workers off for the day and called Seanmhair. She said the insurance agent would be around the next day and assured me we’d be back in business in no time.

Weary and overwhelmed by the entire situation, I thanked her and hung up.

*    *    *

Darkness descended on the city. Aidan couldn’t be seen from any of the windows in my apartment. I wondered if BettyJo could make him out from her position. I dialed her number and asked.

“I don’t see him, either. Are you sure he’s down there?” BettyJo countered.

“I can’t tell. We’re not supposed to see him, though, are we?” I asked with a light chuckle.

“Right. I’ll call you if I see any movement. It looks like we’re in for a long night, Melina.” BettyJo hung up.

Time ticked on. Every minute seemed an hour. Every hour seemed a day. Around midnight, I heard the kitchen doorknob rattle. I’d left all the lights off and the door to my apartment open. My nerves shattered, I shook with fear and anger. Someone was breaking in again!

Exhaling slowly, I slipped across the floor in stocking feet. I felt a cool breeze travel up the stairs. A thin beam of light flickered upward, bouncing off the walls. I backed away from the landing and squashed all my fluffiness into the corner cove, trying to melt into the wall on the other side of the glass and oak curio cabinet.

My phone in hand, I texted the word
help
to BettyJo and Aidan. Footfalls moved stealthily into the apartment. The only thing visible was a gloved hand holding the tiny flashlight. The beam swayed side-to-side, mesmerizing and dizzying. I held my breath, my heart pounded harder with every second that passed.