CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Just Beans sat tucked between Fresh and Clean—the laundromat in town—and Fairytale Sweets. My phone buzzed as I approached the door. Why was Uncle Stan calling me? I answered cheerfully, "Hey, Uncle Stan. How's your week going?"
"Guinevere," he said, his tone warning, "Why did I have to come into work this morning and see on the call sheet that Camelot Flowers had been vandalized, and more importantly, you'd been threatened?"
I mentally slapped myself on the forehead. With the thick mittens I was wearing, a real head slap would have felt more like a tickle. "I'm sorry I didn't call you. Finn was handling it, and I was so worn out by the time I got home, I went right to bed."
Uncle Stan's tone softened as he said, "I guess I can understand that, but I 'bout had a heart attack when I saw the report. Finn should have called me."
"Don't be upset with Finn. He handled the situation perfectly. Isn't that why you hired him? So you wouldn't have to take calls at all hours anymore?" I asked.
"You know that doesn't apply to you, Guinevere," he said brusquely. He cleared his throat before adding, "I also had a voicemail from Tom Palmer. He said you've been asking around about Justin's murder. I was set to call him back and tell him he must be mistaken, but I took a moment to think about it and it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. What do you have to say for yourself?"
I swallowed hard. A lecture from Uncle Stan was almost as potent as if it had come from my dad himself. I'd successfully downplayed what was happening in town to my parents. Maybe I should've focused my efforts closer to home. "I haven't exactly been asking around…" I said slowly.
"What would you call it, then?" he asked.
"I can't help it, Uncle Stan," I started, hoping throwing both his name and personal title into the mix would remind him how much he loved me. Scratch that idea. That's likely why he was so upset. "People keep talking to me. I'm not getting into any trouble on purpose."
It wasn't exactly true. The diagram in my pocket of all the leads I was planning to chase down burned like my lie had set my pants on fire.
"That's what you call what happened at Camelot Flowers last night? Not getting into any trouble?" Uncle Stan challenged.
I'd been foolish to not get ahead of this. I should've been stopping by the station more, assuring him I was safe. I was pacing in front of the window of Just Beans by now, Penny watching me with a confused expression on her face. I held up a finger, indicating I needed a moment.
"What happened at Camelot Flowers last night was scary, but no one actually tried to hurt me," I argued.
"Yet," Uncle Stan pointed out. "No one has hurt you yet."
"The sooner we catch the murderer, the sooner all of this will be over. I'm being extra safe in the meantime. I promise," I reassured.
"Well," Uncle Stan said, his voice growing gruff with emotion, "I wanted to check on you and see how you're holding up."
"I'm fine." It was another lie but a necessary one. "I'm just about to meet Penny for coffee."
"I heard Finn Butler installed a deadbolt on your front door. Don't know why I didn't think of that sooner," Uncle Stan said, sounding exhausted. The case was likely taking a toll on him as much as anyone else. I should've checked on him just like he was checking on me.
"You didn't think of it because I didn't need it. I'm not even sure I need it now," I said.
"He's a good man, that Finn. A good detective too," Uncle Stan added.
The more I interacted with Finn, the more I agreed with those statements. "I've gotta go. Penny's waiting on me," I said.
"You be careful," he warned again.
"I'll be the most careful citizen in Star Junction," I promised.
Uncle Stan chuckled. "Somehow I doubt that. Love you, Guinevere."
"Love you, too," I replied warmly.
I walked into the coffee shop, setting off a string of jingle bells. Penny sat at a small table tucked into the corner, and I gave her a little wave before stopping to place my order. After ordering a chai latte with almond milk, I leaned against the counter to wait. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Finn. The lock is installed. Can I drop off your key?
I replied, I'm at Just Beans across the street from my shop.
The thought of seeing Finn sent a little thrill through my stomach. Although Penny had pushed the idea of dating the new police detective before either of us had met him, I wasn't sure what to do with these unexpected feelings.
The barista handed me my drink, and another text from Finn popped up. Great. I've got to finish one more thing at work. Then I'll run over. See you soon.
I sent back a thumbs-up and smiled like a fool all the way to the table where Penny was waiting.
"What's that smile for?" Penny asked with a sly smile. "You look like you found out you were nominated for an Academy Award. Or, you know, whatever type of award a florist would get."
"It's nothing," I said. I settled my coat across the back of the chair and hooked my purse over it. "Finn's stopping by to drop off my house key."
Penny choked on her coffee. "He has your house key?" she finally coughed out.
"He wanted to install a deadbolt on my front door after what happened last night. It's no big deal," I said dismissively, although inside, I was feeling more like Penny than I'd like to admit.
Penny's hazel eyes danced with delight. "A good-looking man cares about you enough to install a better lock on your house? It's not nothing."
I finally grinned. "I know," I admitted.
Penny collapsed back into her seat dramatically and declared, "It's straight out of a Hallmark movie."
If either of us was going to ever be nominated for an Academy Award, it would be Penny, but before I could comment on that, her eyes tightened and the smile slid off her face. I looked behind me to see Chris walk in. He headed in our direction.
"I swear that man has the worst timing," Penny muttered before pasting a smile on her face. "Hey, Chris." I could hear the falseness in Penny's voice, but I knew from experience Chris wouldn't pick up on it.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Hey, Penny." He turned his attention to me, his normal million-watt grin dimmed. "Hey, Gwen. I hope it's okay I dropped by."
"What are you doing here?" Penny said, her passive-aggressive tone growing a little more aggressive.
I shot Penny a look that could've boiled the cooling coffee in her cup.
Chris put his hands on the back of the extra chair at the table but didn't sit. "I've been thinking a lot since I got out of jail," he said to me. His voice grew thick, and he cleared his throat. "I was wondering if we could talk sometime soon."
I glanced at Penny, who raised her eyebrows but stayed silent. "About the case?" I asked. "I could do it tonight."
Chris's eyes filled with disappointment. "I can't do tonight. My parents are coming into town," he said. Chris moved as if he were going to sit in the empty seat but then stopped. "And it's not about the case," he added.
His last words barely registered as I processed the fact that his parents were coming to town. "Your parents are coming here?" I asked in shock.
"I'm not allowed to leave town, and my dad wants to check on his investment. You know, the lawyer and everything," Chris explained.
"Do you need—" I started to offer my help, but Penny kicked me under the table. She was right. I was falling back into my old pattern of rescuing Chris. I took a deep breath and changed tactics. "I hope it goes okay," I said.
"Thanks," Chris said, clearly not looking forward to seeing his dad. "What about tomorrow night? We could get dinner?" he asked. I'd never seen him sound so uncertain.
"She has plans," Penny cut in.
"I do?" I asked in confusion.
"Yeah," Penny said, shooting me a look that said play along. "We're going bowling. It's a whole thing," she said to Chris.
I understood Penny's dedication to rescue me from my crush on Chris, but this was taking it a little too far. "I guess I have plans tomorrow," I said to Chris by way of apology for needing to say no. "Text me when you're done with dinner tonight. If it's not too late, we could talk then."
"I will," he said. He absently tapped the table and looked at me one more time. He opened his mouth as if to add something more but turned and walked up to the counter instead.
"What was that about?" I demanded in a tight whisper.
"What?" Penny asked, the picture of innocence as she swiped her finger through the whipped cream on top of her drink and licked it off.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," I challenged. "We're going bowling?" My gaze cut to where Chris was chatting with the barista, making sure he couldn't overhear our conversation.
"Did I fail to mention that?" Her innocence routine wasn't going to work on me.
"Explain," I demanded.
"A bunch of the firefighters and police officers are going out. I don't want to be the only girl. I was going to invite you even before Chris showed up," she said.
"You didn't have to be so rude to Chris," I said.
"Yes, I did. It's part of my five-step plan to remove you from the clutches of Chris Crawford," she argued.
"Five steps?" I asked incredulously. "You actually created steps?"
"Not formally," Penny said, as if my very question was ridiculous. "It's more of a saying."
"That's not a saying," I deadpanned.
"Whatever," Penny said, sounding exasperated. "It's part of a plan. And the plan will have as many steps as it needs."
I found it best to ignore Penny when she got like this. "What do you think Chris wanted to talk about?" I asked. "He seemed so serious."
"Maybe he figured out who killed Justin and is devastated by who it is," Penny offered. "Maybe he's going to confess that he did it. The guilt's eating at him, and he can't take it anymore."
"You don't really believe that," I said.
Instead of answering me, her nose crinkled in concern. "Uh-oh," she whispered.
"What?" I asked.
Penny jerked her head in the direction of the door. I turned to see Chris leaving as Finn walked in. They stopped in the doorway, each man blocking the other's way. Chris's back was to me, but I could see Finn's jaw set and his eyes narrow. Finn said something I couldn't hear then stepped back and let Chris pass. Chris marched down the street, not looking back.
The breath I'd been holding rushed out all at once, and I looked at Penny in panic.
"Standoff at high noon," she said grimly.
Finn stood at the window, watching Chris until he disappeared around the corner. Suspicion burned in his eyes until his gaze landed on me. His face brightened as he walked over, his long legs covering the distance in a few steps.
"Hey, Gwen. Penny," he greeted.
Penny batted her eyelashes as she said, "It's so nice to see you again."
This wasn't going to go well. The less exposure Finn had to Penny, the better. "Thanks for dropping off my key," I said, trying to hurry Finn along. "I'm sure you need to get back to work."
"I'm sure he has a few minutes," Penny said as she nudged the chair across from her with her foot, inviting Finn to sit.
Finn took her up on the invitation and sat. "Just for a minute," he said. "I've got a phone call scheduled at four."
If he was going to stay, we needed to keep things about business. "About Justin?" I asked.
Finn lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.
"Okay, okay," I said, raising my hands in surrender. "I know you can't tell me."
Finn's knee brushed against mine in the confined space under the table. "I saw your car hasn't been repaired. Do you need a ride home from work?" he asked.
I purposefully avoided meeting Penny's gaze. She was going to have a field day with this. "Someone is supposed to come in the next hour to put on the spare. Thanks, though," I said sincerely.
While he hadn't been willing to answer my question about Justin, it could've been because of Penny's presence. "I was hoping to chat with you about a few things related to the case. Could I give you a call later today?" I asked.
"Details about the case?" Finn glanced in Penny's direction, confirming my suspicion that he wasn't willing to discuss this in front of her.
"Just doing my duty as a concerned citizen," I said. The explanation sounded laughable, even to me.
Finn rubbed his hand over his beard. "The danger of you asking around about the murder was already high, but after last night…" he hedged.
I couldn't lose my access to him. Not when the rock through the store window and the screwdriver in my tire told me I was getting close. "I promise. I'm not doing anything dangerous," I said.
Finn glanced at his watch and said, "I'll call you when I'm done with my phone call at four." He stood and handed me my house key along with the key to the new deadbolt. Our fingers brushed, and a spark jumped between us. A literal one. Static electricity was a constant problem in the winter.
"Sorry about that," I said, laughing.
Finn's gaze locked on mine, just as it had in his truck earlier today. "A little electricity is never a bad thing," he said, his gaze heating. He hesitated a moment before turning and walking out the door.
"Whoo," Penny said, collapsing back into her seat and fanning herself with her hand. "Detective Hottie is living up to his name."
"I thought we agreed to stop calling him that," I said, groaning.
"I didn't agree to anything," Penny teased as she leaned forward. "What's this new information you need to share with Detective Hottie?"
I looked around to make sure no one else was listening. Fortunately, the place wasn't very full. A couple sat near the fireplace at the back of the store, and a man waited for a drink at the counter. Other than that, we were alone.
"I found out the name of the woman Justin was having an affair with," I said, not even bothering to contain my excitement. I might be new at this whole murder thing, but besides discovering the shoebox under Justin's bed, discovering Heidi's identity felt like the biggest win of the case.
"No way," Penny exclaimed. "Who is it?"
"Her name is Heidi Fischer." I grimaced. "It's not a lot to go on, but it's more than I knew before."
"Leave it to me," Penny said confidently. "I'll find out where she works or something."
"How are you going to do that?" I asked incredulously.
"Through the power of social media," she replied, as if I were ridiculous for thinking it would be anything but simple.
I had to admit, I should've thought of that. I was too busy feeling triumphant at just learning her name. "You have to let me know as soon as you find her," I said.
"Pinky promise," Penny said. At least she didn't make me really hook my pinky with hers. "What else do you know?" she asked.
I filled her in on what I'd learned about Tony, the current investment banker who wished he was a sports agent, and the high school cheating scandal with Justin. I added how I thought the rock that had been thrown through the store window came from Palmer's Gravel and Rock where Justin used to work.
"You think the murderer could be Tom Palmer?" Penny exclaimed a little too loudly.
"Quiet," I practically hissed as I glanced around to see who might have overheard. The barista had glanced up at us but just as quickly returned to the set of drinks she was making.
Penny lowered her voice and said, "Like maybe Justin was doing something super bad with those trucks and Tom snapped?"
"No way," I said, shaking my head in disbelief. My gut twisted at the thought of Tom being a suspect in Justin's murder. "Tom is like Santa Claus. Santa doesn't murder people."
"You can't just keep eliminating suspects because they're nice," Penny argued. "Nice people murder other people all the time."
"Who else am I eliminating because they're nice?" I asked warily.
Penny picked at the sticker on her paper coffee cup.
Her silence was more chilling than her theory about Tom. "Penny," I said, my voice low. "Who else am I eliminating because I think they're nice?"
Penny didn't meet my gaze as she answered, "Chris."
"You can't be serious," I shot back.
Penny finally met my gaze, her expression filled with anguish. "There just seems to be a lot of evidence pointing at Chris. Jack was saying one of the officers told him they found Chris's fingerprints on the murder weapon."
As a firefighter, Penny's husband, Jack, worked in the same building as the police officers. The two groups even shared a common break room. "That can't be true," I said, feeling desperate. "Tommy told me they don't have those results back."
Penny shrugged and simply said, "That's what Jack told me."
Had the results really come back since I'd talked to Tommy on the street this morning? He'd been so sure it would take weeks.
"Of course Chris's fingerprints were on it. It was his screwdriver," I argued.
"They were the only prints on it," Penny said with a grimace.
My blood chilled. "Maybe the murderer wore gloves," I said, grasping at straws.
"That's totally possible," Penny conceded. "I just want you to keep an open mind that Chris could be lying to you."
I shook my head so hard it hurt. "I know Chris better than anyone. I'd know if he was lying," I said.
"That's probably true," Penny said quietly.
Tears burned at the back of my eyes. I knew she was just trying to help, but her statements felt like a betrayal of Chris, which in turn felt like a betrayal of me. "I better get back to the store. The tow truck driver is supposed to arrive soon to put on my spare tire," I said, trying to hold back the tears.
Penny laid her hand over mine and begged, "Please don't be mad. I'm not saying Chris did it. I'm just saying you need to consider the possibility. I'm trying to protect you."
I gave her a weak smile. "I know, but I'm telling you he didn't do this," I insisted.
"I'm sure you're right," Penny said kindly, as if trying to soothe my impending tears more than believing her own words.
We gathered our trash, the mood very different from the teasing of earlier.
Penny wrapped me in a hug and said, "Love you much."
I returned the hug. As much as her words about Chris hurt, I believed her when she said she was only worried about me. "Love you much, too," I replied.
I made it back to Camelot Flowers in time to see a tow truck pull up behind my car. Every year when my dad bought me the highest-level roadside assistance as a Christmas present, I silently wondered why it couldn't be a Sephora gift card. This week, it had proven more than useful.
I walked up to the tow truck as the driver climbed out of the cab.
He looked down at the clipboard in his hand. "You Guinevere Stevens?"
"Yep," I said.
"Name's Kevin," he said, pointing to himself. "Pop your trunk. I'll get the spare on, and you'll be good to go, but don't drive it on the highway without getting a new tire."
Pulling the keys from my coat pocket, I hit the button to unlock the trunk as Kevin walked to the back of his truck to grab his tools. I stared at the jagged hole in my tire, the offending screwdriver now in an evidence bag somewhere.
The hole was about an inch in diameter. I shuddered as I pictured a similar hole in Justin's chest. I hugged my arms across my body, not just against the cold but against the memories haunting me.
"All set," Kevin said, his statement shaking me from my musings about murder. He'd already put on the spare? How long had I been standing there lost in my troubled thoughts? I signed the paperwork, thanked Kevin, and checked in with Hailey to ensure she was okay with locking up. We closed early on Thursdays.
The window repair people were supposed to arrive tomorrow, and my car was drivable again. Two problems solved. Now I just needed to kill some time before Finn called me and I could tell him all the new information I'd collected pointing to suspects other than Chris.