CHAPTER TWELVE
Chris grinned, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, his blue sweater intensifying the cornflower blue of his eyes. His blond hair lay damp on his forehead.
I squealed and closed the distance between us, throwing myself into his arms. The sound of his deep laugh wrapped itself around me as he lifted me off the ground. The clean smell of fresh soap mixing with the fresh hope that Chris was actually here made my heart feel as if it would burst.
Chris set me down. "Bet you weren't expecting to see me tonight. Are all the good pies gone?" he said loudly enough for everyone to hear.
"You're bidding on the best one," I teased as he surveyed the room, nodding and waving at friends. The hubbub Chris's sudden appearance caused reached my ears, but I was too focused on his crooked smile and sparkling eyes to pay any attention to it. I reached out and gripped his arms. "How are you here?" I asked.
"How about I win this pie, and we can sit and talk all about it," he replied with a charming grin.
"Technically it's not a pie," Donna corrected from the microphone.
It felt like I was eleven years old again and we'd been found huddled in the woods. Relief, joy, and disbelief flooded my body, making me not care that Donna was still stuck on that. "Sounds like perfection," I said to Chris.
A low murmur hummed through the room as people expressed their shock at Chris's sudden appearance and probably their theories about whether or not he had killed Justin.
Donna tapped on the microphone to get everyone's attention, which resulted in another squeal from the sound system. I winced but then laughed, my relief at seeing Chris out of jail making me giddy.
"I say we call this cheesecake sold. What do you all think?" Donna said to the crowd.
Applause filled the air.
Chris walked up to Donna and planted a kiss on her lined cheek. "I'll take that," he said confidently. He lifted the cheesecake off the table, grabbed two forks, and walked back to me with a patented Chris Crawford smirk on his lips. "I've been in jail for two days," he said loudly enough for the room to hear. "I think people will understand if we dig into this pie before the rest of the auction is over."
This prompted a wide variety of responses from the crowd—catcalls mixed with light applause joined by a few "you got that right's" let me know that most of the crowd was just as thrilled Chris was out of jail as I was.
"I think you're probably right," I said, laughing.
I followed Chris as he sauntered to the back corner of the large room and ducked into an alcove used to store tables and chairs. It was almost empty, most of the chairs having been moved into the main room for the night. Chris settled onto the floor in the back corner, and I dropped down next to him. Chris dug his fork into the edge of the cheesecake, pulling out a huge bite.
"Someone's not wasting any time," I teased as he shoved the bite into his mouth.
He swallowed quickly and took another bite. "Listen," he said around a mouthful of pie, "I've been eating whatever takeout Stan brings me for the last two days. I'm hungry, and this pie looks amazing."
"You're always hungry," I said happily. I tucked my arm under his and rested my head on his shoulder. "I was so worried about you."
Chris patted my knee with his free hand while continuing to shovel bites of pie into his mouth with the other. "I know. Me too," he said.
I sat up and faced him. "How are you even here?" I asked.
Chris leaned his head back against the wall and looked up at the ceiling. He blew out a measured breath. "My dad sent a lawyer," he said.
"Oh," I said, my voice hushed with the thought of what Chris's father might expect in exchange for his help.
"Yeah," he replied, his tone flat.
We sat in silence, the cheesecake momentarily forgotten.
"I'm glad you're here," I finally said into the silence, trying to sound cheerful, "no matter how it happened."
Chris sighed and looked down at the cheesecake again, a quarter of it already gone. "The truth is, I am too. I'll figure things out with my dad," he said. "The lawyer arrived this evening, and after meeting with Stan for thirty minutes, Stan said I was free to go. I'm not allowed to leave town, but where would I even go?"
"Mexico?" I asked. I was joking. Sort of.
"Very funny," Chris said dryly. "I trust Stan to figure this out, and he says the new detective is good. I guess we'll see. Have you met him?" He started in on the pie again.
"We've met," I answered. "He interviewed me after I found Justin's body." I didn't tell Chris about the accident today. I also didn't tell him about how warm Finn's hand had felt against mine as we stumbled and laughed our way up the embankment earlier.
"What do you think about the guy?" he asked, still focused on demolishing the cheesecake.
What did I think about Finn? That was a loaded question. "He seems to know what he's doing," I answered diplomatically. I took the other fork from Chris, who'd managed to hang on to both of them despite his work on inhaling the cheesecake I'd spent all morning making.
I took a bite. The freshness of the blueberries and lemon mixed with the tanginess of the cream cheese exploded like a cool spring morning on my tongue. "This is amazing," I said in awe. "I need to bake more often."
Chris blocked my fork with his like it was a sword and we were knights battling. It wasn't going to work. He'd had plenty of the pie. I shoved his arm out of the way, laughing.
"I paid for this pie," he objected, trying to block my access again.
"Too bad, Crawford. I made it." I snatched the fork from his hand. "It's time to focus," I said, pulling his attention away from the cheesecake to more important matters at hand. "I've got some things to fill you in on about the investigation."
"I told you to leave it alone," he warned.
"Good thing I stopped listening to you a long time ago," I teased, hoping he'd be too charmed to continue to object.
It worked. Chris shot me a crooked grin. "Fine. What'd you figure out, Nancy Drew?"
I poked my head around the corner to make sure no one was lingering, trying to listen in on our conversation. The room had settled into a low roar of conversation. The auction must be over. Finn sat at the table chatting with Penny and Jack. Maybe Penny would manage to learn something from him I hadn't.
When I was satisfied no one was listening, I broke off another small piece of the cheesecake and said, "It all started with Donna coming into Camelot Flowers Monday morning. We got to talking about Justin's murder, and she mentioned Justin and Samantha broke up last week."
Chris rubbed the back of his neck before saying, "I hadn't heard that."
In my excitement about not being the only one out of the loop, I smacked Chris's chest with the back of my hand. "Exactly!" I exclaimed. "Me neither. Anyway, Donna also said Justin might have cheated on Samantha, so it was over for good."
Chris shook his head as if trying to make sense of Justin's behavior. "So, what? You think Samantha killed him for cheating on her?" he asked.
"I don't know about that," I said. "I ran into Samantha at the grocery store and talked to her. She seemed pretty broken up about Justin's death."
"Maybe she's all broken up," he said, using my own words, "because she feels guilty for killing him."
I shook my head in doubt but said, "Maybe. Finn seems to think whoever killed Justin was really strong. Samantha is a beanpole. I'm not sure she could have done it." The more I thought about it, the less I liked my own theory that adrenaline could have enabled Samantha to shove that screwdriver into Justin's chest.
"Finn?" Chris asked, clearly confused.
I looked at him for a moment, trying to understand his one-word question, before it dawned on me that he might not have ever heard Finn's first name. I doubted Finn had been very buddy-buddy with Chris while he was questioning and detaining him.
"Detective Butler," I explained. "His first name is Finn."
Chris paused, another bite of cheesecake hovering in the air between the pan and his mouth. "First-name basis with the new detective?" he asked.
I scoffed as I turned my attention to getting another bite of cheesecake before Chris managed to eat it all. "Back to the case," I said, hoping the heat I felt flooding my cheeks wasn't obvious to Chris. "Samantha confirmed the cheating rumors but doesn't know who he cheated with. I thought maybe that person killed Justin or that person's jealous boyfriend."
"And?" Chris asked.
"I went to talk to Derek to see if he'd know anything, but he blew me off," I said.
"Makes sense," Chris said. "Even if Derek knew what Justin was up to, he's not going to rat him out."
"It's not like I'm the police," I argued. "Why hide anything from me?"
"You're not the police, but those good old boys stick together," Chris explained.
"Maybe he'd talk to you?" I suggested. "As one of the good old boys?"
Chris hedged, "I'm not sure I count as one of the good old boys. Not that I'm complaining. There's being buddies with those guys, and then there's being truly in with them."
I took a deep breath before launching into the biggest piece of news. "Speaking of being in with whatever they've got going on, I went and saw Mrs. Hunt this morning." I gave Chris a brief smile. "She believes you're innocent, by the way," I added.
The relief on Chris's face beamed through the stress of the last few days. Hopefully what I was about to share with him wouldn't wipe that away.
"She let me look around his room," I explained. "I found a stash of cash and drugs under Justin's bed." I showed Chris the picture.
Chris let out a low whistle. "The rumors were right," he said.
"It has to be connected to his death, right?" I said, hopeful that this would prove to be the solution to Chris's problem.
Chris set the cheesecake aside like he'd lost his appetite. "I don't know," he said slowly. His gaze grew distant. "My lawyer said I need to stay home as much as possible, keep a low profile."
"Do whatever the lawyer says," I replied. "I'll keep you posted on what I find out."
"I still don't like this," he said. He put his arm around my shoulder and tucked me against his side. Moves like this were familiar between us but not helpful in my quest to get over him. "I worry about you," he continued. "Whoever killed Justin went to great effort to set me up, including pulling you into it."
"Whoever killed Justin is going to want to keep as low of a profile as your lawyer is asking you to keep," I argued. "They're not going to go on a killing spree."
Chris pressed a quick kiss into my hair. I steeled my body, willing it to remain neutral, but butterflies danced in my stomach. In all the years we'd been best friends, we'd never kissed. Not on the lips at least. Not even when we went to prom together.
There had been moments, late at night on his front porch—the night we graduated, the day before we'd both left for college—moments when I'd thought he was going to kiss me. I'd never read the moment right.
"There you are," Penny said as she appeared in the doorway, giving me a meaningful look at how close Chris and I were sitting. Thankfully she didn't say anything about it. "People are starting to head out." She turned to Chris. "Mr. Jacobson is looking for you."
Chris ran his hand through his hair. "This can't be good," he said, his voice tight with worry.
As the principal of the high school, Mr. Jacobson was Chris's boss. Being a guidance counselor was the perfect job for Chris and something he planned to keep doing while he was getting the youth center up and running. He was still cool enough for the kids to listen to, and he cared enough to be dedicated to his job.
"Maybe he just wants to tell you he's glad you're out," I said.
"I guess there's only one way to find out," Chris said as he stood, brushing dust off his jeans. "Thanks, Penny." He turned to me. "I'll call you later."
I stood too. "I'm so glad you're out of jail. Now we just need to keep you out for good," I said, determined to make it happen.
Chris nodded his agreement before heading off to find Mr. Jacobson. Penny took his place, picking up the pie, which had the semblance of one crooked piece left. She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers, her meaning clear. I handed her my fork. She took a bite. "Oh my gosh, Gwen. This is actually good," she said in awe.
I laughed. "Don't sound so surprised," I said, faking offense.
Penny took another bite before saying, "I need to tell you what I learned about Justin."
It still seemed like a bad idea for Penny to get involved, but like she'd said, she already knew the information. It would be almost criminal for her not to share it with me. "Okay…" I said.
"Lena heard from Jackie who heard from Matt that Justin was fired from Palmer's Gravel and Rock," Penny said with gusto.
"Fired?" I replied. "That doesn't seem like Tom. He's always giving people second chances." Tom was father to Tommy Jr., the police officer first on the scene the night of Justin's murder. Most of us dropped the Junior part of his name, opting to simply call him Tommy, although his dad still called him Junior.
Penny nodded knowingly and said, "That's what I thought. Maybe Justin used up too many second chances."
Information that started with the words I heard should never be trusted blindly. I pulled out my phone and added Talk to Tom to my growing list. "That's helpful," I grudgingly admitted.
"I knew it would be," Penny said triumphantly. "And I'm finishing the rest of this pie."
It was almost gone anyway.
I followed Penny into the main room as she scooped the last of the pie from the disposable tin and tossed the tin into the garbage can by the door. "Staying to help clean up?" she asked.
"I should," I said hesitantly. I stifled a yawn. I'd been going to bed at a reasonable hour but waking up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, covers tangled around my legs. Justin's vacant eyes haunted my dreams, leaving me too wound up to fall back asleep.
I glanced around at the groups of people breaking down tables and stacking chairs. "Have you seen Finn anywhere?" I asked Penny.
While Chris showing up had been a dream come true, I was disappointed at the lost opportunity to spend more time with Finn. We'd reached some sort of fragile peace while trapped in the ditch together, and I was curious what talking to him about something other than murder might be like.
"He took off shortly after the auction," Penny answered with a shrug. "Something about crime never sleeping."
"He didn't bid on any other pies?" I asked, keeping my tone casual.
My attempt at an innocent question failed as Penny gave me a meaningful look and said, "Just yours."
"Okay, okay," I said, brushing off her insinuation. "Let's get this place cleaned up." I'd help clean up the fellowship hall then get to cleaning up the mess of Justin's murder.