Chapter 36
Chapter 36
Daphne blinked at the shattered vase in the hallway, Harry sucking in a hard breath beside her to recover from her scream. The end of her cane crunched against a piece of aqua-streaked glass. The old woman let out another yell as bodies appeared in the kitchen door.
Two caterers jumped out to help, and Daphne hooked her arm around Harry’s shoulders. “She needs to sit,” she said.
“You!” Harry demanded, pointing her cane at the first wide-eyed caterer. “Clean this up before someone cuts themselves. And you, stop anyone else from coming down here. Someone could be seriously hurt.”
The command in Harry’s voice left no room for argument. The first woman jumped and rushed back into the kitchen to find a broom. Daphne followed close behind, towing Harry along. They entered the kitchen and waited for the broom-carrying caterer to shuffle past. As soon as the caterer had gone out to the hallway to clean up the mess, Harry got a wicked glint in her eyes.
Just like she’d done a moment ago, the old woman wound up with her cane and swung at the nearest glassware. Wineglasses went flying against the wall and exploded into a thousand shards, raining crystal over the kitchen floors.
“Oh!” Harry said. “Clumsy me.” She poked her head out the kitchen door to where the caterers had jumped. “Stay out there until we’ve cleaned this up. It’s not safe in here!”
“But the broom—”
Harry closed the door and leaned against it, her eyes bright. “Go on, girl. Get the pot and get it over the fence. We haven’t got much time.”
Daphne cast a quick glance at the shattered stemware. Distantly, she wondered how and when this would all blow up in her face.
But there were more important things to attend to. She darted to the corner cabinet where she’d spotted the Dutch oven the first time, hauling pots and pans out of the way to get to it. Cookware clattered and banged as Harry hissed at her to be quiet. Her hands closed around the rough, cool handles of the cast-iron pot.
Calvin had been right. This thing was horrendously heavy.
It let out a loud clatter as Daphne dropped it beside her feet, the lid banging against the pot and the pot banging against the floor. She was making too much noise. Way, way too much noise. And she was way, way too slow.
Someone pounded on the door.
“There’s glass everywhere!” Harry called out. “Give us a minute.” She gave Daphne a loaded look and mouthed, “Hurry!”
Daphne nodded, her hands trembling as she stuffed the pots and pans back onto the lazy Susan in the corner cabinet, metal clanging, lids flying, pot handles jamming themselves into every corner and crevice. After kicking the corner door closed, Daphne watched it bounce back open a couple of inches. She shoved it again, to no avail.
“Leave it,” Harry said. “Get that thing out of here. I can’t hold them much longer.”
“Harry? Is Daphne in there with you?” Calvin’s voice called out through the door.
Panic shot down Daphne’s spine.
“We’re cleaning up the glass that broke,” Harry said, and thrust her pointed finger at the side door. “Give us a minute. It’s like a crime scene in here.”
“Let me in,” Calvin said, and he didn’t sound like nice, kind Calvin Flint. He sounded like the Fernley County Sheriff. “Daphne? What’s going on?”
“Just trying to keep everyone safe!” Daphne said as she hurried to the side door, and Harry swept her cane through the broken glass so Calvin would hear the tinkling of the shards against each other.
Her arms were already aching with the weight of the pot, but Daphne was in too deep to turn around now. Calvin would open the door and see the pot. He’d know she’d lied to him.
After putting the pot on the edge of the counter, Daphne opened the door and held it with her hip, then grabbed the pot again and stepped outside. Through the window cut into the top half of the door, she exchanged a deep nod with Harry, then shuffled out of sight as quickly as she could.
She stood in a narrow walkway between the fence and the side of the house. The A-frame roof went all the way to the ground, cedar shingles releasing a pleasant scent in the space. Concrete pavers lined the walkway, with moss and weeds growing between them. Creeping flowers had begun to bud in spots between the moss, waiting for their moment to bloom. The side fence was warm timber, about six feet tall, with half-inch gaps between the vertical slats. To Daphne’s left was the side gate that led to the front yard, held closed by a hook latch. Near the other end of the walkway, leading to the backyard, a few terra-cotta pots sat gathering rainwater, accompanied by a rusty rake.
“Over here!” Ellie hissed.
Whirling in the direction of the voice, Daphne spotted her sister’s eyeball through a gap in the fence. Ellie lifted her arm and wiggled her fingers over the top.
“Toss it over,” Grandma Mabel directed. “We’re ready.”
Daphne glanced at the side gate, then back at the kitchen. She could hear Calvin’s deep voice, and there was no time to wrestle with the gate. She had to get rid of this thing. “Either catch this or stand clear,” she said, and lifted the pot lid over the fence. “It’s heavy.”
“Got it,” Ellie said, and the pot lid’s weight disappeared from Daphne’s hands.
“This is it! I remember this scratch. Oh, it’s gorgeous ,” Grandma Mabel murmured, which was patently untrue. It was rough and old and probably worthless to anyone other than Grandma Mabel.
“This thing weighs a ton,” Daphne said, hauling the pot up to her shoulder before resting it on top of the fence. “Be careful.”
Grandma Mabel let out an excited squeal as Ellie’s hands wrapped around the pot’s handles. Daphne watched it disappear over the fence, then hurried back to the kitchen door.
“She’s fine ,” she could hear Harry saying. “She just went out to toss the first bag of broken glass. Now, shoo! Get out of here before you cut yourself. We’ve got this under control.”
Daphne peeked around the edge of the window to see Harry closing the door on Calvin’s face. Nearly there. All she had to do was go back inside, clean up the mess they’d made, and pretend nothing had happened. Easy-peasy. She was almost home free.
A bright flame of excitement finally flared in the pit of Daphne’s stomach. She wanted to cackle and pump her fists. She’d done it!
“Daphne!” Grandma Mabel whispered, her fingers poking through between the fence slats.
“I’m here,” Daphne said, crossing the small space to stand in front of her grandmother.
“Thank you, honey. I never thought I’d get my mother’s pot back. Never thought I’d touch it again. I’m so proud of you, and I love you more than words can say.”
Eyes stinging, Daphne shoved her own fingers through the fence and gripped her grandmother’s hand. “I love you too, Grandma.”
“No one could have done this except for you,” she responded, emotion thick in her voice.
“I’m just glad you’ve got your pot back,” Daphne whispered. She peeked between the wooden slats to see the tears in her grandmother’s eyes.
It was only a half truth, because retrieving the pot wasn’t the only thing that made Daphne glad. Dizzy elation bubbled through Daphne as her grandmother’s eyes misted on the other side of the fence. Grandma Mabel had never looked at her like that before.
For the first time, Daphne was a true Davis. She was just like Ellie, her mother, and her grandmother. She belonged.
Had this been a silly plan? Of course. Had she put her own heart on the line by letting herself get close to Calvin Flint? Definitely. Would she want to do this regularly? Absolutely not in a million years, no.
But was it worth it for this moment?
A hundred percent, without a doubt, yes .
Daphne smiled, then turned back to the house. There’d be time for celebration later. For now, she had to get back inside, clean up, and pretend that nothing at all had happened here. She crossed the few feet of space between the fence and the house, placing one hand on the shingled roof as she headed for the kitchen door.
Inches from her destination, with her fingers reaching for the knob, Daphne heard voices.
“What are you doing here?” a man demanded in a low hiss. “Get out of here, Bobby.”
“You’ve been dodging my calls.”
“I figured you’d get the message,” the man repeated.
The voices were familiar. Daphne frowned, fingers on the cool metal of the doorknob, her heart pounding. Go back inside, she told herself. This is none of your business.
She gripped the knob and turned it.
Then the second man said, “That damn sheriff drove by my house again last night. That’s the third time since I first spotted him when I was working on my truck. He knows something, Archie.”
“He doesn’t know shit.”
Daphne’s blood turned to ice. Archie Jr. and Bobby D. Troy were just around the corner, and neither of them were happy. Daphne’s mind whirled.
If Bobby Troy was here, complaining about Calvin keeping an eye on him, the only logical conclusion was that Archie Jr. was the head honcho behind BDT, LLC. Which meant that the break-ins, the discrepancies between the invoices from Barela ... all of it pointed back to Archie. The mayor of Fernley Island.
Archie Jr. was behind Realist Trade Co., Rated Retails Co., and BDT, LLC. She thought back to the last time she’d seen him, when he’d been his usual arrogant, sniveling self. He’d stormed off ...
Daphne’s eyes went wide. Archie had stormed off when she mentioned going to see Barela, and that very night , Barela’s offices were broken into.
Coincidence?
Lungs so tight she could barely breathe, Daphne stood rooted to the ground and tried to parse all the information while Archie and Bobby hissed at each other. Her mind made connections faster than she could blink, but she still couldn’t decide what to do.
Was someone else involved? She needed to tell Calvin what she’d heard. But what if they said something else incriminating? Wouldn’t it be better to hear the rest of their conversation?
Releasing her grip on the kitchen door, Daphne eased toward the backyard. Their voices sounded close, so she moved slowly, wishing her dress weren’t made of this plasticky material that rustled like sacks of dry leaves. To make matters worse, her phone was inside her zippered clutch. She couldn’t get it to record their conversation without making noise.
“He knows , Archie.”
“You shouldn’t be here. We’re not supposed to speak at all. Now get out of here, and I’ll call you when I have time.”
“I want out.”
A dark silence followed, and Daphne held her breath.
“You want out ?” Archie repeated, violence lurking at the edge of his tone.
“You heard me. I don’t want my name on any of your shit anymore. We almost got found out with Sheriff Jackson, and now this.”
“Bill Jackson didn’t squeal,” Archie pointed out, and Daphne heard the words he left unsaid: And neither will you.
“I’m no snitch, but I’m sick of looking over my shoulder. I’m out, Archie.”
“We made a deal. All you had to do was tell me when you got mail for me, and you’d get that nice envelope of cash in your mailbox on the first of every month. Has that money ever failed to appear?”
“A thousand bucks a month isn’t worth as much as it was when we started this.”
“So this is about money. You’re extorting me. Have I got that right?”
Daphne nearly rolled her eyes. That was rich, coming from a man who, by the looks of things, had been embezzling funds for years. Archie Yarrow Jr. wasn’t exactly a paragon of virtue.
New, hurried footsteps approached. Archie said, “Not now, Jenna.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“I want out,” Bobby repeated.
“Since when?” Jenna asked. “Never mind. I don’t care. Archie, there’s no point. He doesn’t want me.”
Archie grunted, and it sounded like pure frustration. “He’s been driving by Bobby’s place. He might be onto us. If you could’ve just gotten close to him—”
“He doesn’t want me,” Jenna complained. “I tried . It’s like he’s in love with her or something.”
Daphne frowned. In love with who? Jenna couldn’t mean Daphne, could she? They were obviously talking about Calvin driving by Bob’s place, so what other “her” could there be?
But Calvin wasn’t in love with her. They’d come up with this stupid fake date plan, and now it was over. They had gotten too close in the process and became confused. That was all.
Right?
“I don’t get why you broke into Romano’s anyway, Archie.”
“I didn’t ,” the man hissed.
“Someone did,” Bobby put in.
Daphne’s eyes widened. If Jenna was asking about the second break-in, did it mean Archie himself had been responsible for the one at Barela’s? What had he been trying to steal?
“Go back inside. Keep Flint occupied. We’re done here.”
A pause, and Jenna’s footsteps retreated.
It was Bobby who spoke next. “We’re not done until you tell me we’re done , Archie. I’m not doing this anymore. There’s too much heat. And if you don’t even know who did the second break-in, what if someone else is onto us?”
“No one is onto us,” Archie insisted. A foot scuffed on pavement, and Daphne strained her ears. There was a grunt. Were they fighting? Archie whispered something, but it was too low to hear. She needed to get closer. It sounded like they’d moved away from the corner of the house.
In the brief moment before Daphne shifted closer to the edge of the walkway, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. A month ago, Daphne wouldn’t have been in this position. She would never have agreed to come here with Calvin. She never would’ve kissed him. Never gotten punched in the face. Never done a silly dance in a gigantic dress.
She’d been playacting ever since she got back, pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Except she felt like herself. Right now, as she inched closer to the edge of the walkway, it felt like she was following her principles. Sure, she wasn’t exactly being responsible. And her comfortable, warm shell had been left somewhere to gather dust without her.
Maybe there were parts of Daphne that could be impulsive. Maybe it wasn’t playacting; it was just opening herself up to another side of herself.
On the island where she’d grown up, where she’d always been known as the good, responsible sister, Daphne was able to see herself in a new light. She stole family heirlooms back. She shacked up with hot men. She followed her instincts.
Sure, she was still 90 percent sure it would all blow up in her face, but didn’t it feel good ?
Well. It did, up until the voluminous tiers of her dress nudged up against the rusty rake, which proceeded to slide down the angled roofline of the home to crash into—and shatter—half a dozen terra-cotta pots.
The noise was deafening. Daphne froze, shoulders hunched up near her ears, breath trapped in her lungs.
Four quick footsteps sounded, and Archie Jr. appeared at the end of the walkway. He took in the smashed pots leaking old rainwater, the rake, and Daphne in her dress, standing there like an absolute dolt.
“Whoops,” she said. “Thought the bathroom was out here. I’ll just—” She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder toward the kitchen door.
The lie was an obvious one. Within seconds of it coming out of her mouth, Archie’s face twisted, and he lunged toward her. His arms circled her biceps as he spun her around and trapped her against the fence. Behind him, Bobby snarled.
“You’ve been eavesdropping,” the mayor accused.
There was one rule Daphne had learned from watching Ellie weasel her way out of trouble their whole lives: When faced with incontrovertible facts, double down on your preposterous lie. It worked at least 70 percent of the time. “Me?” Daphne asked, blinking. “No. I was just looking for the bathroom.”
“Quit playing stupid. I know it was you who sicced the sheriff on us. If you hadn’t started sniffing around, he never would have found out about Barela.”
“The contractor? What about him?”
Bobby frowned. “Maybe she doesn’t know anything.”
“Shut up, Bobby,” Archie spat out. “Daphne Davis is a nerdy little good girl who can’t help herself from sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Isn’t that right? She’s the type to tell a teacher when they’ve forgotten to collect homework that was due.”
“Okay, that was one time, and I’d worked really hard on my essay—”
“You’ll regret the day you stuck your nose in my business, Davis,” Archie said, a strange light entering his eyes.
Daphne wanted to put as much space as possible between them. The back of her head hit the fence. There was nowhere to go. She’d have to fight her way out of this, which would mean more injuries—or worse. She wouldn’t be able to go back inside and pretend everything was okay.
This was the moment everything blew up in her face. There was no getting out of this. Archie wasn’t going to let her go.
As if she wanted to make sure of it, Daphne’s mouth started moving before her brain caught up. “You’ve been embezzling public funds for years, haven’t you?” she asked.
Still looking at her with those strange eyes, Archie smiled. “No one figured it out. No one until you.” Threat laced his words. Real, ice-cold fear began to skate along Daphne’s nerves, and she worried that the “or worse” portion of her “injuries—or worse” prediction would come true.
“You used Bobby to set up the shell company, and you falsified invoices for work that was paid for by public funds,” Daphne guessed. “Skimmed what you could off the top. Pretty smart,” she said, knowing the Archie she’d grown up with thought he was the smartest person in any room he happened to walk into.
“Of course it was smart,” Archie snarled, nails digging into her biceps. “It was a flawless plan until you came along.”
There was scratching at the side gate, and Daphne forced herself not to glance over. The last thing she needed was Grandma Mabel and Ellie to come barreling in, guns blazing. Then again, she needed backup. The man currently pinning her to the gate squeezed her arms, his eyes flicking to Bobby, then to the gate, then to the backyard. He was going to make a move.
Daphne had to keep him distracted. Flattery seemed to work, so she kept going. “You set it up perfectly,” she said. “But why didn’t you pay Jerry Barela?”
Archie Jr.’s lip curled. “That worthless father of mine spent all his money on his new wife. Nothing left for my campaign. And it turns out people were sick of Mayor Archie Yarrow by the time I came along, so I had to campaign harder than Dad ever did.”
Daphne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was more likely that Archie was a sniveling little punk who’d run the island’s local government into the ground if it suited his whims, and everyone knew it. Case in point, the embezzlement.
The gate’s lock rattled.
Daphne cleared her throat to hide the sound. “How does Jenna fit into it?”
“My office has been handing out grants like candy,” Archie said, laughing. “The expansion of tourism on the island was a major part of my election platform. If a few of those grants go to friends of mine, well ...”
Daphne feigned admiration. “I never could have come up with that,” she told him.
“That’s because you aren’t as smart as you think you are, Davis.”
Judging by her current predicament, Daphne figured he was probably right about that. But the only thing she could do was keep him talking. “So, you wanted Jenna to get close to the sheriff as ... insurance?”
“She would’ve wrapped him around her little finger if you hadn’t come along and messed it all up.”
Of all the mistakes Daphne had made lately, getting in the way of a yearslong embezzlement scheme hadn’t been on her bingo card. It almost made her laugh. She’d been so worried about an old cast-iron pot, when real crimes had been going on right in front of her. “So you broke into Barela’s office to try to steal documents back, and then you broke into Romano’s ...”
“I didn’t break into Romano’s,” Archie Jr. snarled. “And when I find out who did, they’re going to be thrown into the same shallow grave you end up rotting in.”
Daphne tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs were shutting down. Her fear was slowly freezing her muscles, and she was running out of things to say. Archie was antsy; she could tell by his darting gaze and the way his grip on her arms kept tightening. She’d have pudgy hand-shaped bruises at the end of this. More injuries to add to her collection.
The old Daphne, the one who played it safe and did what she was expected, wouldn’t make it out of this. But Daphne had mined the depths of her own self over the past months—maybe the past years, ever since her ex had insulted her and left—and she knew there were deposits of strength inside her that she could use.
She wasn’t going to let Archie Yarrow Jr. hurt her. She wasn’t going to let any man hurt her.
She’d learned that about herself. And she’d learned another thing too. Wisdom from an older generation all those weeks ago at the Winter Market.
Without much space to work, Daphne had to forego a full-on kick and settle for a well-placed knee. She exploded into movement, the tiers of her dress flying up in front of her as she angled her knee at Archie’s balls. Air exploded from his lungs when she made contact with the soft flesh, a wheeze of pain not far behind. He doubled over and Daphne stumbled away from him, just in time to see the gate at the end of the pathway fly open.
Grandma Mabel brandished the lid of her precious pot, her face a mask of fury. Ellie wasn’t far behind, the main body of the pot dangling from one hand. The two of them ran down the walkway toward the men, who gaped at them.
“Don’t just stand there,” Archie gasped at Bobby. “Do something!”
Bobby Troy took one step forward. His foot landed on the tines of the rake Daphne had knocked over, flipping the handle up in the process. It hit him square in the face and caused him to stumble back and fall on his ass in a puddle of dirty water and broken terra-cotta.
With a garbled yell, Archie straightened and reached for Daphne. She set her shoulders and faced him, fists bunched, ready to punch.
Her grandmother flew past her and got there first, cast-iron lid held overhead in two white-knuckled hands. She brought the lid down on Archie’s head and watched as he crumpled to the ground, staring down at him with a look of pure disdain.
Archie Jr. groaned, one hand cupping his crotch, the other splayed out at his side. His eyes were hazy and unfocused, but at least he wasn’t dead.
Daphne glanced at her grandmother and gulped.
Grandma Mabel admired the lid. “This thing is great ,” she said, then turned her eyes to Daphne. “You okay, honey?”
Daphne nodded. “I think so,” she replied, then glanced up when she saw movement in the backyard.
Calvin Flint stood at the end of the walkway, hands dangling at his sides, muscles tensed for action. His gaze flicked over Daphne first, then the men on the ground, then over to Ellie and Grandma Mabel. When his eyes landed on the Dutch oven, understanding dawned in his expression.
It only took one look at his eyes for Daphne to know that he’d guessed the real reason she’d accepted this date with him, and it hadn’t been to save her reputation. What she hadn’t expected was for him to look so utterly devastated.
The emotion cleared from his face in a blink, and the sheriff, stone faced, told them, “You’re all under arrest.”