Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
On my doorstep stood a man I’d never met before.
"Rebecca Merriweather?" he asked.
"Yes."
He showed me a police badge. "Do you mind if I come in for a moment?"
I forced myself to smile at him. Under normal circumstances, that would not have been a hardship, considering he resembled a younger Tom Hanks. Not too much younger—I took him to be about my age. “Of course.”
"Thank you."
I looked outside, where I saw a police car standing. "I thought you usually come with a partner."
“She'll be here in a minute. We can wait outside if you prefer that."
I paused. "I haven't done anything wrong, have I?"
"Not to worry, Ms. Merriweather." His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes in an endearing way.
"I don't know your name," I said.
"It's Detective Stone."
"Ah, Louisa mentioned your name."
Did he blush? Possibly, though it was hard to tell under his tan.
A woman strode purposefully toward us. While he was wearing jeans, a tailored shirt, and a jacket, she wore a police uniform.
"Everything's all right," she panted. "I found the dog."
I gazed at them both, confused. "A dog? Is that why you’re here.”
“Never mind that. How about we sit down for a moment?" she said. "Unless my partner has already told you everything."
"Nope."
I noticed the proud tone when she uttered the word partner.
Either she was brand new to the department, or she was new to being sent out with a detective.
"Do come in," I said. "Can I offer you a coffee or a tea, or is that not allowed?"
They politely declined refreshments as I took them through to the library.
It felt more official than having them invade my private rooms upstairs.
"That's lovely," the young policewoman said as she glanced around. "It's exactly the way your aunt had it."
"There might be changes in the future," I admitted, "but for now I'm glad if I can manage to get the business up and running again to serve the community."
"I'm sure glad to hear that," she said. "Me and my mom are keen readers."
"Oh, I didn't catch your name."
She tapped on her name badge.
"Miss Lopez," I said.
"It's Geraldine Lopez, and my mom's Anita." She flapped a hand in front of her mouth. "I think we might have a couple of overdue books at home."
"Well, considering that the library was closed for a bit, I think that doesn't really matter. But you still haven't told me what I can do for you."
Why did my hands feel so clammy? Maybe because I wasn't used to having to deal with the police.
I once had to recover for a whole weekend after I'd been given a ticket for speeding. We Merriweathers were law-abiding to our core.
Geraldine and Trey both moved a little closer to me—not enough to invade my private space, but enough that it felt a little intimidating. Or did they mean it to be comforting?
Cosmo sneaked closer.
"The thing is..."
They gazed at me.
The detective took a deep breath. "The way things stand at the moment, there's going to be an autopsy on your aunt."
"What? Why?" I asked. Then, I was relieved—at least she hadn’t been buried yet, so there would be no exhumation.
"There's nothing to worry about," Trey said.
Worry. I touched my sweaty forehead. "Would you please tell me what's going on?"
"We had a phone call from a concerned citizen. It's just a precaution," Geraldine added.
"A phone call?"
"You probably have heard about—" She jerked her head toward Jake's place.
“I’ve seen officers coming in and out, yes. But what's my aunt got to do with it?" I asked innocently, only to ask myself if I’d made a mistake denying to have heard any rumors.
"We’re only going to make sure that your aunt's death had nothing to do with the other incident," the detective said.
"I appreciate that," I said.
"I know it's not a nice thought but please be assured that your aunt's body will be treated with the greatest respect."
"A phone call from a concerned citizen," I said. “Who was that? And what were they concerned about?"
"We can't give you any further information, I'm afraid. We just wanted to give you a heads-up." He smiled at me.
"Thank you."
I rose together with them. "I hope I'm not on the list of suspects, " I said in an effort to lighten the mood.
"Oh no," Trey said promptly. "We’ve been looking into your whereabouts, and you’re in the clear."
When they were gone, I poured myself a finger of brandy.
They were going to have my aunt autopsied. But maybe—no, I stopped myself.
Even if I presented them with the killer on a silver platter, they would still go ahead.
Concerned citizen! I was pretty sure our killer had something to do with that. I was also pretty sure I could put a name to them.
Because so far, my witchy intuition—and the lack of an appearance—pointed toward the one person with the biggest motive.
Pamela.
The cousin who stood to inherit the whole shebang.
And Jake, bless his soul, had lived frugally, but he had owned a lot, thanks to a couple of inventions he’d patented and then sold as a young engineer.
He’d donated playground equipment, club buildings, and the cabin in the woods, sponsored nature camps for kids and contributed to a gazillion of good causes, and most of this anonymously.
I only knew through my aunt who’d assisted him with decisions.
Apart from Jimmy, she probably spent more time with him than anyone else. I couldn’t be sure of Jake’s net worth, but I’d be surprised if it was less than a cool million. That were a lot of reasons to get rid of him.
"Let me see if I can connect the dots," I said to Cosmo.
The cousin could have easily crept through from the lake to this place, dug up the plants... and then I faltered.
"Or," Cosmo picked up my train of thought, "after she did the deed, she came through here, got the plants, took them to the woods, and ditched them somewhere to plant a false trail."
"Yes!" I declared. "That’s it! Except... what if she really is on holiday? Or was?"
He gave me a pitying look. "Why don't you check it out?"
"But how?" I asked.
"What do humans do all the time whenever there's anything at all going on in their lives or when they want some kind of affirmation?"
Was he being sarcastic? Maybe. "Explain, oh wise one," I said.
"Well, you are one of the very few people I have met who isn't constantly posting about their breakfast, or their new shoes, or which movie they saw, or which movie they didn't see, or—"
"Gotcha," I said. "Except I don't know her name. I know the first name, but that's not enough."
"Then how about you ask your friends?"
He didn’t need to spell out Do I have to spell out everything?—but it was inferred in his voice.
"I’ll do that," I said. "And I can also try to get an expert to look at these branches to see how long they've been dead already." I’d put them in the fridge to keep them fresh for now, in addition to the pictures.
"Now we're talking," he said.