Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Fall
The new furniture arrangement worked. Amie slept well that night, despite the roller coaster of a day she’d had (or maybe because of it—by the time she got into bed, she could hardly keep her eyes open).
Sundays had always been her time to prepare, physically and emotionally, for the week ahead.
Despite not having experienced a Sunday in quite some time, Amie easily fell into her pre-loop routine.
She cleaned her apartment. Did the laundry.
Stocked up on groceries. Finally replaced her failing pen and filled out her planner as best she could.
(All she ended up writing was “Find new job,” “Look at schools,” and a bunch of doodles while she tried to come up with something else to jot down.)
Though it had been almost a week since the time loop, it felt odd dedicating a whole day to her future.
But the feeling was comforting. And strangely exciting.
Amie never thought she’d find doing laundry exciting.
It was like the opposite of the Sunday scaries.
Sunday … cheeries? No, never mind, it didn’t need a name.
As she went about her day, she found her thoughts repeatedly drawn to Winston’s message.
“But after looking at her order notes, it looks like Savannah called in on Sunday herself to cancel it.”
That had immediately felt off to Amie. Savannah always seemed to relish taking her anger and annoyance out on other people, but canceling the order only to yell at Winston about it the next day didn’t seem realistic.
Nor did Savannah forgetting she’d canceled the order herself.
Of all the people Amie had spoken to about the dead woman, no one had mentioned her struggling with her memory.
Unless Amie, who had been struggling with her memory, had forgotten about that. But this seemed unlikely as well.
Especially once her memory helpfully served her a piece of information that almost made her topple off the chair she’d been standing on to dust the top of her bookcase.
“We figured out some compromises. Coming home by seven was one of them; she used to stay at the store even later before we agreed on that. She’d also agreed to not work on Sundays, let go of a few part-time employees, and feature more bestsellers in the window.”
Amie remembered feeling surprised when Andrew told her this.
Savannah never struck her as someone willing to compromise, but her widower had seemed confident that she had been sticking to her word.
Would she have made a call canceling her flower order on the one day of the week she’d promised her husband she’d take off?
Despite the strengthening feeling that Savannah hadn’t been behind either of the calls made to the flower counter at the grocery store, the reason for the first call continued to stump her.
If the same person (presumably the murderer) had made both calls, what was the point of the first?
They could have simply had a second order of flowers delivered to the store Monday evening to get Savannah to return.
Why cancel her regular order as well? It felt like—Amie winced—overkill.
She was still thinking about it as she and David arrived at the fall festival that evening. The outing had been David’s suggestion.
“Really?” Amie had asked, amused. “I feel like you’re not really a festival guy.”
“Not a big fan of fall, either,” David admitted. “I like pumpkin spice as much as the next guy, but too much of a good thing is too much of a good thing. But we should still go. Trying new things. Doing something for yourself. All that.”
Amie knew he was just trying to take her mind off of Ziya (though he still didn’t know exactly what had happened). And she found it difficult to resist the allure of an apple cider donut once the idea was presented to her.
“It just feels like I’m missing something,” Amie said.
They walked past a couple sticking their heads through a painted board that made them look like two scarecrows in a cornfield.
“Why the initial cancellation of the flowers? The person who did it must have known Savannah would go to the store to complain as soon as she realized the flowers wouldn’t be delivered. What was the reasoning?”
“Maybe they wanted Savannah out of the bookstore,” David suggested.
“Hm.” Amie’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of that. “If it had been Benny, maybe he wanted her gone so he could look for those photos. I still don’t know what he was doing in my apartment. But like we’ve said, it seems overly complicated for Benny.”
“Sometimes overcomplication can indicate a lack of logic.” David ducked to avoid getting whacked in the face with a balloon as a child ran by. “But you also believe Benny had an alibi.”
“Yeah.” Amie crossed her arms as a breeze made its way under her cardigan. “For when Savannah was murdered, at least. He could’ve gone to the store earlier that day to look for the photos. Do you think it’s possible that two people sabotaged Savannah’s flower order for unrelated reasons?”
David shrugged. “It’s possible. But if he was back there searching for the photos on Wednesday, that means something went wrong with his plan on Monday. Maybe he was interrupted.”
“I wonder if Grayson saw someone,” Amie mused.
“Who?”
“He works at the bookshop. I talked to him on Wednesday. He was pretty eager to talk, so I feel like he would have mentioned it if he caught Benny sneaking into the back room that day.”
Why else would someone want Savannah out of the store?
They passed the Eons Café booth, where more people were lining up for hot drinks to fight off the dropping temperature as the sun set behind the Ferris wheel. Jess was taking orders at the front of the line, flashing Amie a quick smile as they made eye contact.
A thought struck Amie as they continued past. “Madeline said Savannah had signed the paperwork selling the store right before she died,” she said slowly. “But what if it wasn’t Savannah who signed it? What if Madeline snuck into the store to forge her signature and send it off to the lawyer?”
David scratched the back of his head, eyebrows scrunched together with doubt. “You think Savannah was never going to sell?”
“Well, no, because she told Oakland she was. But, I don’t know, maybe she was getting cold feet or something.
” Amie began speaking faster as her excitement mounted.
“Maybe Madeline canceled the order so Savannah would go to the grocery store, giving her the chance to sneak into the back of the bookshop and sign the contract. Then she killed Savannah before Savannah could find out.”
Amie’s eyes widened as she stopped short. “Maybe that’s why Andrew attacked her. Maybe he knew something that we don’t.”
“That’s a lot of maybes,” David said, pulling her out of the flow of flannel-clad pedestrian traffic. “Do you have any time loop knowledge about Madeline? Anything that could solidify this theory?”
“No. I didn’t see her at all on Monday. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t around. And her café is right next door to the bookshop; she could’ve easily known about Savannah’s regular flower delivery.”
Amie bounced on the balls of her feet, looking around. “I need to find Grayson and ask if he saw Madeline that day. He’s gotta be here.”
Sighing, David said, “Look, I know by now that it’s no use trying to deter you from this.
How about we walk around some more, get some apple cider donuts, try to enjoy the festival, and if you see the guy, great.
Interrogate away. If not, you’ll still have a nice night, and you can talk to him tomorrow. ”
Amie tried to hide her disappointment. She’d been about to suggest they comb every inch of Willows Park until they found the guy. But she knew David was just worried about her, so …
… she’d send him off for donuts while she searched for Grayson herself.
“It’ll be faster if we split up,” she said. “You get the donuts, I’ll get us hot chocolates.”
“Okay,” David said, seeming reassured by Amie’s embracing of the fall festival spirit. “We’ll meet back here. See you soon.”
Amie headed back to the Eons booth, then veered off between two tents toward the carnival games. She weaved through the crowd, craning her neck as she searched for Grayson’s auburn curls.
Unfortunately, her search required her to look a lot of people in the face, which is how she ended up locking eyes with Benny. He was walking away from a ring toss game, shoulder to shoulder with the woman from the infamous blackmail photos.
Too late to pretend she hadn’t seen him, Amie gave him a tight smile and a nod, assuming he’d give her the same. Instead, he put up a hand to grab her attention before she could look away.
“Hey!” he said, looking annoyed. As he paused to let a group of teenagers pass, Amie briefly considered running away. Before she could make a decision, her landlord was standing in front of her, arms crossed.
“What happened with the ‘flooding emergency’ in your bathroom?” he demanded. “Was that just a dumb prank, or …?”
Amie’s mouth fell open with surprise. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. “I, uh … what?”
“You called and said you had a flooding emergency in your bathroom that needed to be dealt with ASAP,” Benny said. “Then—”
“No, I didn’t,” Amie said, catching up to what must have happened. “Did someone call you and say that?”
Now Benny looked surprised. “Yeah. That wasn’t you?”
“No.” Amie felt jittery, like she’d downed three cups of coffee. “Did you go to my apartment?”
“Yeah,” Benny said, studying her face as if to determine if she was telling the truth. “No one answered, so I let myself in. When I saw that there wasn’t any flooding, I left. You didn’t answer when I called you back.”
“Was it my phone number?” Amie asked.
Benny shrugged.
“Do you not have my number saved in your phone?”
“No. I usually just ask people for their apartment number if they need something from me.”