CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The next morning, I opened the front door to see my empty driveway and groaned. How could I have forgotten I didn't have my car? I needed to open Camelot Flowers in twenty minutes. Walking would take at least thirty. Plus, it was eight degrees out. Not ideal walking weather.
I needed a ride. I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened my Favorites tab. My parents weren't an option. Penny was already at work. My finger hovered over Chris's name. He had so much going on, and I was supposed to be relying on him less. On the other hand, it seemed ridiculous to invest too much effort in getting over my crush on him in light of the murder. Maybe I could try next month.
I was set to call Chris when a black truck pulled up to the curb. My stomach flipped at the sight, knowing exactly who was behind the wheel. The passenger window slid down, revealing a smiling Finn. "Need a ride?" he asked.
I laughed in disbelief as I headed for the truck. "Your timing couldn't be more perfect," I said as I reached the truck and rested my hands through the open window.
"I aim to please." Finn pretended to tip an imaginary cowboy hat. "I came by with a deadbolt. I have to be back at work in an hour, so I was hoping to catch you before you left."
I looked down to see a bag from Henry's Hardware store sitting on the floor. "You didn't have to do that," I said, feeling slightly embarrassed that this man I just met was going out of his way to do something nice for me. Embarrassed and maybe a little excited.
"I'll feel better knowing your house is more secure," Finn explained. "My dad was a contractor, and I worked for him in high school. It'll take me no time at all. Do you want a ride to work first?" he asked again.
My mouth curved into a wide smile as I said, "Absolutely."
"Climb in," Finn said.
I got into the truck and buckled my seat belt as Finn pulled away from the curb.
"This feels like a good time to lecture you about having inadequate locks on your door," he said in a teasing tone.
I leaned back against the leather seat and held my hands in front of the heating vent. "This is Star Junction. Most people don't lock their doors at all during the day," I said.
Finn shook his head. "I'll never understand that." He glanced at me before turning his attention back to the road. "I can drop you off and run back to your house to install the lock," he said, running through the plan. "If you're okay with that, I'll need a key."
"But you said you had to be at work soon," I pointed out. "You're not even dressed for work." I noticed for the first time he was wearing the same jeans and hoodie he'd been wearing last night. "Wait a minute. Have you been working all night?" I asked with concern. I looked at him more closely. His golden-brown eyes sported dark circles that rivaled the ones under my blue eyes. The only difference was the copious amount of concealer currently covering mine.
Finn waved away my concern and said, "I'm fine. It was a busy night. I'll sleep later."
"You don't have to put this deadbolt in right now," I insisted.
Finn's jaw tensed, although he kept his gaze focused ahead. "I'll feel better if it's in now," he said with determination.
I sensed arguing wasn't going to get me anywhere. "Okay, I'll give you my key, and maybe you can drop it off at the store later," I said, relenting.
"That works," Finn agreed. "And we're done processing your car. You can get the tire replaced and take it anytime."
His statement stirred up the anxiety that had been simmering beneath the surface since I'd found Justin's body, but I worked hard to ignore it. One problem at a time. Fixing the tire was something I could handle. "Roadside assistance is certainly coming in handy this week," I deadpanned.
We arrived at the store, and Finn pulled into a parking spot near the door. "I'll text you when I'm done at your house," he said.
"I'll be here," I said as I climbed out of the truck.
At least until three when Hailey arrives and I can hunt down some more answers about Justin's murder.
I said that last part to myself, knowing I'd get more than a lecture about having adequate locks on my doors if he knew what I was planning.
I slid the house key off my key ring. "Shoot me a text when you're on your way back," I said. "Sometimes I'm out on deliveries during the day." I started to close the door but paused. "Oh, and Finbar? Thanks for doing this," I said sincerely.
He barked out a laugh. "Finbar?" he asked incredulously.
"I'm just going with what Google suggests," I said, defending myself with a wide grin.
The look on Finn's face shifted. The amusement he showed at our little game faded, and his eyes gleamed with a desire that made that butterfly take up its dance in my stomach once again. He leaned forward. "You've been putting some thought into this." His voice, low and rough, teased a shiver up my spine.
"I've had to resort to extreme measures since you won't tell me what it is," I said breathlessly. Breathlessly? What a cliché I'd turned into. I thought of my crush on Chris. Maybe being a cliché around handsome men wasn't a new thing in my life.
"Maybe I enjoy this game too much to end it," he countered.
I stood in the open doorway, my back cold in the winter air but my face flushed from the heat in Finn's words.
"Hey, Gwen!" a woman's voice called from down the street.
I whipped around to see Emma from the book club pushing a stroller with her two-year-old daughter bundled in so many layers she resembled a pink potato. Emma's coat was a matching pink, and her white-blonde hair was tucked under a purple hat with a giant pompom on top.
The cold air on my face snapped me out of the flirtatious haze Finn had created. I waved to Emma before turning back to see Finn still watching me intently. "I better open the store," I said reluctantly.
"See you later?" Finn asked.
"Definitely," I said with a smile.
The truck pulled away as Emma pushed the stroller across the street toward me. Before she'd even reached my side, she called out, "I heard what happened last night after we left. Oh my gosh, Gwen, you could have been killed."
I didn't need a reminder of how scary the sound of the shattering glass had been. "I know," I said. "But thankfully no one wanted to hurt me."
"Well, I'm never leaving you alone after book club again. Us girls need to stick together," she said.
I found myself liking the idea. Book club was the only time I was at the store alone long after dark. "I won't argue again. There's safety in numbers."
Emma pulled me into a tight hug. "I've got to get going, but I wanted to make sure you're okay."
I smiled. "I'm totally okay."
Emma hesitated a moment longer, her gaze flicking to the boarded-up windows on the front of Camelot Flowers, but her daughter let out a little squawk. "I'll check in with you later," Emma promised.
"Sounds good," I said.
Emma hurried off, and my attention drifted to my car parked just down the street. It listed to one side. Back to reality.
I pulled the keys to Camelot Flowers from my purse and walked to the door. While I was glad the store was secure, the plywood covering the door and windows looked like ugly wounds on my normally beautiful storefront.
I needed to contact the insurance company, find someone to replace the glass, and get roadside assistance over to replace my tire, but one thing at a time. I unlocked the door and flipped on the lights.
The honey-colored wood floors normally glowed in the morning sunlight that streamed through the front windows. Today, they looked muted and dull. At least they were clean. It seemed Finn had done more than cover the windows. The floor had been covered with glittering shards of glass when I'd left the night before. In fact, besides the broken windows, there was no sign anything violent had happened at all.
I went through my normal opening routine, including brewing a pot of coffee in the back, scanning through any deliveries for the day, and watering the selection of plants that lived on a set of shelves near the window.
While not thinking about the threat from the night before would've been nice, I didn't have that luxury. Time was ticking, and everything I'd learned from TV and movies told me that solving this murder soon was key to solving it at all.
As I'd gotten to know Finn better, it became easier to trust his work on the investigation, but I wasn't a fool. With no other clear suspects, Chris became the easy answer. The vandalism and threat last night could only mean one thing, I'd talked to someone who knew something.
If I was failing in my investigation, there'd be no reason to threaten me. Why not just let me keep flailing about? It could only mean one thing—I'd talked to someone or learned something the killer didn't want me to know.
I needed to retrace my steps, so to speak, talk again to the people I'd already talked to. Someone knew something, and I knew just who to start with. The deliveries today would be the perfect excuse to pop into Derek Thompson's insurance agency. To be more accurate, his dad's insurance agency. I wasn't the only one from our high school graduating class going into the family business.
Derek, despite his smarminess and self-obsession, knew something about Justin's supposed girlfriend in Rose Lake. Ashley Kowalski's husband had ordered a bouquet of daisies, apparently Ashley's favorite flower, to be delivered to the dental office where she worked for her birthday today. The dentist happened to be next door to Thompson Insurance.
As the plan came together in my mind, my decision to find Justin's murderer galvanized, despite the threats. I wasn't scheduled to deliver the flowers until her lunch break, which gave me just enough time to deal with the shattered windows.
I skipped to the back and poured myself a cup of coffee before returning to the front desk in case a customer came in. Opening my notes app, I ran through my murder list. Derek first. If he gave me some information, once Hailey could watch the store later today, I'd make the drive to Rose Lake and find the mystery woman Justin had been seeing. If not… Well, I didn't really have a plan for if not, which worried me.
I took a bracing drink of the rich coffee. I might be stumbling around in the dark trying to solve this murder, but the killer was clearly worried. Even in the dark, if you stumbled around long enough, you were bound to bump into something useful.
* * *
A few hours later, I pushed through the door to Thompson Insurance. The office was small. Two desks sat facing each other over industrial-looking gray carpet. The walls were a crisp white, and despite the utilitarian look of the place, it was clean.
Derek glanced up as I walked in, looking momentarily stunned before recovering with that smarmy smile I'd come to hate over the years of him asking me out.
He stood, buttoning the jacket of this blue suit. "Gwen," he said smoothly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
I gave him a tight smile and reminded myself that it had been my idea to come here. If I wanted information, I needed to be nice. Or at least less disgusted by him than I normally was. "I was making a delivery next door and thought I'd pop in to see if you'd been able to remember the name of the woman Justin had been seeing in Rose Lake," I said, getting right to the point.
Maybe my wording was a bit leading. Derek hadn't had trouble remembering a name. He'd flat-out refused to tell me anything. I was hoping he wouldn't remember that.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said casually before transitioning away from the topic with: "I've got tickets to a concert over in Abbottsville tomorrow night. Come with me."
"I can't," I said, trying to feign reluctance but failing miserably. "I've got plans." I didn't have plans, but if my conscience got the best of me over lying, I'd make plans. "You know something about Justin that could help Chris. Maybe not the identity of the other woman, but something," I pressed.
"What about tonight? We could grab a bite to eat? My place?" Derek asked. He was a pro at dodging my questions.
There was no way I was going to his place. Derek was persistent to the point of intrusive. Being alone with him didn't seem like the wisest choice. "Stop changing the subject," I said through clenched teeth. The longer I was with him, the harder it was to play nice.
That smarmy smile somehow grew. "We'd have fun. I promise," he said. His tone wasn't just laced with innuendo, it was drowning in it.
"I have no doubt you'd have fun," I challenged.
Then a new tactic occurred to me. Derek wasn't used to hearing no, but he also wasn't used to losing. "Unless," I said slowly, attempting to build some kind of tension. I leaned against the counter that separated the rest of the room from the small entryway. "Unless, you don't want to give me any information because you're protecting someone, like maybe yourself."
It took a moment for my words to sink in, but once they did, the smarmy smile vanished, replaced with just the kind of indignation I could use to my advantage.
"What are you implying," he snapped.
"I'm implying," I said, my voice as sharp as rose thorns, "that you could've murdered Justin, and now you're trying to throw me off the scent by hiding the identity of the person who he was cheating with."
Derek crossed his arms over his impressive chest, his gaze thundering with anger. I was suddenly very glad there was a counter between us. I'd been baiting him with my accusation, but what if it was true? What if I'd just taunted a murderer?
"That's the dumbest logic I've ever heard. If I was the killer, I'd want you to talk to another suspect," he said. He took a step forward, and I took a step back as he continued, "If I was the killer, I'd tell you to talk to Heidi Fischer about her little affair with Justin."
I bit back a squeal of triumph and forced myself to remain still, despite the happy dance I was doing in my head. No need to gloat in the face of besting Derek. "Heidi Fischer, you say?" I asked calmly. I tapped her name into the note in my phone.
"That's what I said," he replied, sounding triumphant, as if he'd won this little battle of the minds by proving to me that he wasn't the killer. All he'd proven was that he was easily baited, a fact I mentally tucked away for future use.
"I better get back to work," I said. Best to leave while I was ahead. I started to walk toward the door but turned back to see him watching me, his eyes traveling lower than was appropriate. Maybe he knew something else that could help.
Against my better judgment, I stopped. Derek was as connected with our former classmates as I was. If he could add some insight that would help Chris, I had to sacrifice a few more minutes in his presence. "Are you still in touch with Tony Reagan?" I asked.
"Sure, I see him when he comes home to visit his folks. Why do you ask?"
"It's probably nothing," I said quickly. Better to make Derek think I didn't care about the answer in case he suddenly got smart enough to try to leverage a date from me. "I ran into him at Bucky's last weekend. Then he posted something on Facebook about Justin finally getting what he deserved."
I considered telling Derek what Tommy had told me about the messages Tony had left on Justin's voicemail blaming Justin for ruining his life, but I held back. Tommy had gone out on a limb to tell me. If I wanted access to information from the police in the future, I needed to be careful what I shared with others now.
Derek leaned forward, a sly smile spreading across his face. "Are you investigating this murder?" His reaction couldn't have been more different from Finn's.
"I'm just talking to some people," I said pointedly. "Not investigating."
Derek's gaze raked my body. He walked up to the counter until we were just a foot apart. The scent of his musky cologne tickled my nose, and I held back a sneeze. "I'll keep my ears open," Derek said, remarkably more compliant with questions about Tony than about the woman Justin had been seeing on the side.
Maybe I'd stumbled onto some kind of bro-code with the affair. Maybe Derek hadn't wanted to tell Justin's romantic secrets, but he seemed to have no problem talking about Tony. "That Facebook post was probably about what happened between them senior year," Derek said.
I took a tiny step back. It did nothing to save me from Derek's cologne. "I thought they were friends," I said.
"They were, but after they got caught cheating off each other and failed two classes senior year, Tony never forgave Justin," Derek explained. "Tony had big plans after graduation, and his GPA tanked enough to derail those. He always blamed Justin, claiming it was Justin's idea to cheat."
"What kind of big plans?" I asked. Now we were getting somewhere.
"Tony was determined to become a sports agent," Derek said, scoffing. "Like someone from Star Junction was ever going to be hobnobbing with star athletes. Northwestern had a program in sports management. He was set on going there. He said he'd not only get the degree but have the connections after graduating to really make it. He didn't get in. His GPA was too low after Tony got caught helping Justin cheat during finals," he explained.
Derek didn't strike me as someone who took a lot of interest in other people's problems. "How do you know all this?" I asked suspiciously. Maybe Derek had been in on the cheating scandal too, although I never got the sense he was unhappy with his life, like he claimed Tony was.
Derek scowled and said, "Tony and I worked together stripping paint off old highway signs the summer after graduation. I had to listen to him rant about it every day."
"Thanks. That was helpful." Surprisingly helpful, I added in my head. Never in a million years did I imagine I'd be thanking Derek for anything. I turned and headed toward the door.
"Offer still stands," Derek called after me. "You and me. Anytime."
I hurried away, not dignifying his statement with a response. My mind worked to incorporate this new information about Tony. Star Junction residents were mostly solid middle-class families. A salary as an investment banker would be well beyond the reach of most people in town, but money wasn't everything. Having a dream shattered. Was that enough motive for murder? Even after all these years?
I was no expert, as Finn had reminded me countless times, but it seemed like this was a crime of passion. The screwdriver had been a weapon of convenience. If Tony was going to come back home to settle a decade old vendetta, wouldn't he come prepared?
I had just enough time to do some digging before I was scheduled to meet Penny at Just Beans. She'd texted early this morning, expressing horror about the vandalism at the store. She'd insisted we meet up after school let out, which was perfect timing since Hailey would be at the store.
I made it back to the store and flipped the sign from Out on Deliveries to Open. Sitting behind the counter, I pulled out my phone. I opened Facebook and typed out a message to Tony. Hey, I saw what you posted on Facebook about Justin. You know Chris and I are close. I was wondering why you thought he killed Justin.
I hit Send before I could second guess my decision to contact him. I picked up a pen and doodled flowers around the edge of an order slip. My mind sorted through the information I'd gathered over the last week, but no matter how I arranged it, a solid picture wouldn't form. Chris used his charm to get out of difficult situations. He wasn't going to murder someone just because they were upset with him.
Unless Justin came at him.
The thought flitted through my mind before I could stop it.
No! Even if Justin intended to hurt Chris, Chris would've been able to talk his way out of it.
I flipped the order slip over. I put Justin's name in the center and drew a circle around it. I drew a line coming off the circle and wrote Samantha—cheated on, angry. I added the mystery woman from Rose Lake, who now had a name and was supposedly pregnant with Justin's baby—Heidi Fischer. Off that circle, I added Jealous Boyfriend? Maybe Justin wasn't the only one who'd been cheating.
I tapped the pen against my chin as I stared at the refrigerated case filled with cut flowers. I needed to add a line for whatever was happening with Tom's truck. I didn't know anyone who chose a dump truck for joy riding.
While the rock that had been thrown through my window last night could've come from anywhere, I couldn't deny I'd seen a pile of rocks just like it when I'd visited the rock yard.
Maybe Justin hadn't been the one using Tom's trucks. Maybe someone else was and my poking around threatened their secret. Maybe it was that guy who shot me that death stare for no apparent reason. I made a note to find out who that guy was.
I added a line for Tony Reagan. He'd been in town and seemed to have a motive. I'd have to ask Finn about that. He'd said I should share anything I learned with him. Off to the side, I made a list—Ask Finn about Tom, ask Finn about the box under Justin's bed, check in with Chris.
Chris. Reluctantly, I added another line to my little diagram and wrote Chris's name. I hated doing it, but I had to admit Finn was right to suspect him. Even if the evidence was circumstantial, it wasn't nothing.
What was I missing? I wrote Who threw the rock through the window last night? next to the line about Palmer's rock yard. Rose Lake was only fifteen minutes away. It didn't have to be someone from Star Junction. I connected the question with a line to Heidi Fischer.
I needed to figure out where to find her. Maybe she'd be willing to talk to me. Adding names to this list, or eliminating them, was the priority before the police decided Chris was the only option.
I shot off a message to Chris, having failed to respond to him the night before. What are you up to today? I'm having coffee with Penny after school gets out. I'm so glad the center isn't a crime scene anymore. That has to be a good sign, right? If the police really thought you did it, they probably wouldn't let you back in there. Heard anything from the police or your lawyer?
I had a few hours to kill before I could talk all this over with Penny. I looked around the store. A few hours to kill and plenty of work to do. As much as I wanted finding Justin's killer to be the focus of my day, I had a business to run and today was ordering day.
I pulled up the website we ordered our wholesale flowers from and opened the program showing our current inventory. Ordering was mind numbing and tedious. Nothing like the creativity of putting together arrangements. If the saying Time flies when you're having fun was true, the next few hours were going to feel like years.