Daggers & Donuts, page 8
“You know how slammed we were the morning of 4th of July since we were closing early?”
“Yeah.”
“She took off right in the middle of her shift with no warning! She was acting extra weird all morning and then tells me she’s leaving that she has somewhere she has to be and needs me to cover for her. I told her no way, but she left anyway. Then she comes back right before noon, and I notice she’s in different clothes. And she was in this super happy mood.”
I stare at Miranda, my eyes like dinner plates.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asks. “Are you all right? Are you having a stroke?”
“No!” I hiss. “Didn’t you hear what those two guys just said?”
“Uh. No. I wasn’t really paying attention.”
“Phoebe, the person they’re complaining about, is Harold’s former assistant!”
“Annnnnd?”
“Who he replaced with Darla!”
“Ohhhhh,” she responds, comprehension dawning on her.
“When I asked Phoebe where she was the morning of the 4th, she claimed she was working, but her co-worker just said she took off and came back right before noon, which would give her plenty of time to kill Darla!”
“Oh, dear, that sounds really suspicious.”
“And he just said she changed clothes before coming back!”
“You think she had Darla’s blood on the other clothes?”
“Maybe! And that would explain why they haven’t found any of Cody’s clothing with Darla’s blood on it. She also told me, after she ranted about how angry she was, that Darla had cost her a chance at stardom.
“And that she had it on good authority that she wasn’t going to have to worry about losing that job anyway. What if she said that because she killed Darla and knew she may be getting her old job back?”
“It’s crazy to think about, and yet…” Miranda starts.
“Any crazier than Damien’s cousin blacking out drunk for the first time in three years and killing her with no memory of any of it?”
“That’s a good point.”
“And she has motive after all. You should have seen her at the copy shop. She was furious.”
“What do we do next? Should we tell Drew?” Miranda asks.
“He’ll just dismiss it and remind me that Cody already confessed,” I insist.
“So, it’s up to us to follow up on this lead?”
“Definitely! We have to talk to her!” I demand.
“Right now?”
“Every moment that we wait is another moment that Cody sits in prison for committing a crime I don’t think he did.”
“Let’s go then!” Miranda agrees.
We jump up from our seats as she calls out to one of her clerks to look after the shop while she’s gone. I tell her to bring one of her drink menus, so we have an excuse to get something printed. An excuse other than catching a murderer, I mean.
When we walk in the door of Kwik Kopies, I’m dismayed that there’s no sign of Phoebe. I approach a young woman at the cash register. “Excuse me, is Phoebe working today?”
She snorts. “Phoebe? She flounced in here an hour ago and quit.”
Gulp. “She quit?”
“Yep. No notice or anything. Said she had to leave town fast, that she was off to become a Broadway star, and the rest of us losers can suck it.”
I look over at Miranda, my heart racing. This can’t be good.
“She said she had to run home to pack and that she had a bus ticket for a 4:00 departure.”
I glance at the clock on the wall.
“We have 15 minutes to get to the bus station!” Miranda yelps as we race out the door.
The problem is the bus station is at least 20 minutes away by car, under the best of circumstances. It’s close to the main highway, and a lot of people ride the bus up from Denver to ski in the winter. It still runs in the summer but on a limited schedule.
We dash to Miranda’s car because it’s closest, and while she drives as fast as she can get away with, I know it still isn’t enough. “Isn’t there some sort of spell to make us go faster?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “There is, but it just isn’t safe with all these other cars around.”
“Rats! Why can’t the whole witches on broomsticks thing be real?”
“If you knew how many times I wished for that! One of us has a boyfriend who is a detective, though.”
“And?” I ask, not sure how Drew can help us get to the bus station faster than magic.
“And while we can’t hold up a bus, not from this distance anyway, the CPPD could call the bus station and ask them to hold the bus, couldn’t they?”
“If I ask Drew to do this, and we’re wrong, I think you could have another homicide on your hands,” I warn.
“Oh, nonsense. He wouldn’t kill you. He may just stop speaking to you.”
“Gee, thanks, that’s a huge comfort.”
“I’m just teasing. You may just have to do some serious groveling for a while, though.”
“Miranda, if we’re wrong about this…”
“If we’re right, then an innocent man will rot in prison while the real killer gets away on a bus!”
I agree, reluctantly, “Fine. I’ll give it my best shot.” I pull out my phone to call Drew.
“Hey there, what’s up?” he says as he answers.
“I need a huge favor from you.”
“Anything, as long as it doesn’t involve inappropriate police investigating,” he responds.
“Uhhhhhh.”
“Charlotte Duffin, what have you done?”
“I haven’t done anything, really, I mean not yet, but I need you to stop a bus.”
“A bus? Have you been watching Speed again? Please tell me you aren’t driving an out-of-control bus with a bomb on board because let’s face it, that’s kind of something you’d get yourself into.”
He’s not wrong there.
“I need you to call the bus station and prevent one of their buses from leaving.”
“On what grounds? That’s a very serious request you know, it’s a huge headache for the bus station, plus all of its passengers. Something like that can have far-reaching implications. Why do you want me to stop it?”
“We think Darla’s killer may be on a bus trying to leave town.” The long uncomfortable pause makes me sweat a little. Miranda points at the dashboard clock, indicating that it’s mere minutes away from 4:00. I shrug my shoulders at her to show I don’t know what more I can do.
“Darla’s confessed killer is downstairs in lockup awaiting transfer to the County Jail. I just saw him.” Drew sounds like he’s trying to be patient but is struggling with it.
“It’s just that I’ve been following a lead and—”
“Why are you still following leads?” he cuts me off. “Especially if it involves chasing down a bus. You’re supposed to leave that up to the police.”
I press on. “The girl who used to be Harold’s assistant--”
“Phoebe.” Drew breaks in.
“Yes, Phoebe.”
“She has an alibi for the morning of the 4th,” he insists.
“Well, yes, but how did you know? Earlier, you weren’t sure you needed to question her.” I remind him.
“After you insisted that she might be a worthy suspect, I decided you could be on to something.”
“Really?”
I can hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “Don’t get excited. I said I thought you might be on to something.” He sounds gruff, but now I can hear him smiling. “She said she was at work that morning, and her timecard confirms it.”
“That’s what she told me too, but I just overheard two of her co-workers talking at Bean Around a Bit. They say she skipped out mid-morning and asked one of them to cover for her. He also said she came back a while later wearing different clothes.
“When I went back to Kwik Kopies just now, to see why she lied to me in the first place, they said she quit suddenly and was leaving town on the 4:00 bus today. I think she may be running away, assuming the coast is clear, now that Cody has confessed.”
“You’re giving me very little to go on here, Char. I need something far more than that to ask a bus station manager to hold up a bus, along with all its passengers, based on a long shot. And then what? Ask them to pull Phoebe from the bus and force her to wait until I get there? There just isn’t enough substance here. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay, I understand. It’s just hitting 4:00 now anyway, so it may be too late as it is.”
“I have to go now; my captain is urgently signaling that he needs to talk to me. Look, I know that you just want to help your friend’s cous—”
“--I want the true killer to be punished – whoever that is.” I remind him.
“And I get that. I really do. I appreciate that you have such a passion for justice. I’ll call you as soon as I get off work, how about that?”
“All right, I’ll talk to you later.”
By now Miranda and I are almost at the bus station. But it’s 4:05 and we’re sure that the bus has too much of a head start anyway, when lo and behold, a bus pulls out of the station. We look at each other and squee with excitement.
“Wait. How do we know that’s even the right bus?” I ask.
“Because the last bus leaves at 4:00. It has to be it! They must be running late.”
“But now what? We can’t follow it forever. We don’t even know where it’s going,” I point out.
“It’s much safer to stop it here before it gets on the highway.”
“Safer? What are you planning to do?” I ask. I’m picturing Miranda forcing the huge bus off the road with her Volvo, and I’m wondering what I signed up for. But of course, Miranda meant by using magic.
I watch her concentrate hard on the bus as it gets slower and slower until the driver signals that he’s pulling off to the shoulder, where the bus lurches to a stop. I can’t believe she just stopped a bus.
We jump out of her car and jog up to the door. Except now I wonder what we’re supposed to do next. “Leave it to me,” Miranda says upon seeing my confusion. She knocks on the door, and when it swings open, she asks, “Having problems?”
The driver throws up his hands. “I don’t know what happened. It just quit.”
“I’ll take a look at it for you. I’m a mechanic,” Miranda offers.
I stare at her like she’s really lost it this time, but she pushes me forward. “Find Phoebe,” she whispers.
Of course. I climb the bus steps while the driver stares at me awkwardly. “She’s really good. I’m sure she’ll have it fixed in no time,” I reassure him. I scan the passengers' faces, noticing a mixture of frustration and confusion. Relief washes over me when I see Phoebe sitting in the middle.
“Hey, Phoebe!” I call out as I wave to her. The other passengers turn to look at her while she gawks at me like she has no idea who I am. And suddenly, I’m not sure what to say. Hey, are you skipping town because someone else confessed to the murder you committed? And if she really did murder Darla, I’m now confronting a killer on a bus full of people.
This is looking like a very bad idea and may not have been the smartest move to make by ourselves. Maybe Drew is right. I need to stop putting myself in these situations. But I refuse to let Cody sit in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. Even if he thinks he did.
I have to wing it the best I can, and if necessary, I hope I’ll have the skills to use any witchcraft I might need. “We stopped by the copy store today to have some menus printed, but they said you quit.”
Finally, she recognizes me. “I’ve been offered a part in the chorus for an off-Broadway production, so I’m going to New York.”
“Oh, I see,” I respond.
I don’t know if that’s even true, and it still doesn’t explain her sudden departure from work on the 4th of July. “How did you get a part like that?” I ask.
“I guess it doesn’t really matter anymore, now that I’ve quit, but I snuck out of work on the 4th of July and auditioned for a producer who happened to be in town. I was sure I’d get fired because that jerk wouldn’t lie for me, but then he did, and everything worked out anyway.”
Oh. Wow. This is embarrassing. “So, when you mentioned to me that you didn’t think Harold firing you may not matter anymore—”
“--I was saying that hoping that I’d landed the part and would be leaving this stupid town,” she interrupts. “Although I had no idea when I said that Darla had been murdered by her boyfriend! Wow, what a mess. Turns out maybe I could have got that job back!” she laughs but then stops when no one else laughs along with her.
I’m horrified when I realize the truth. Phoebe didn’t kill Darla, and we’ve disabled an entire bus for no reason. And does this mean that Cody really did kill Darla? If Drew finds out we did this. I gulp.
“Congratulations, Phoebe!” I exclaim. “I’m sure you’ll be great. I’m going to check on my friend and see if she needs any help; I’ll be right back.” I scamper from the bus as everyone stares at me, then I run around to the engine where Miranda pretends to be making the repairs.
“Hey, what’s happening?” she asks. “Did Phoebe confess? Is Drew on his way over to lock her up?”
“We’ve screwed up big time! Just get the bus going now!” I whisper in a panic.
“Seriously? What happened?”
“Just do it! I’ll explain everything later!”
“No problem,” she declares as she holds her hands over the bus engine, and it roars to life. Inside the bus, the passengers cheer. If only they knew. Miranda slams the hood shut, and we pause briefly in front of the door.
“Thanks, ladies!” the driver shouts as he closes the door and prepares to drive away.
I practically drag Miranda back to the car as the passengers continue to cheer and wave at us. I’m mortified.
“What on earth happened back there?” she asks, still confused over our abrupt departure. “And why is your face all red?”
“Drive!” I urge. “We need to get away from here as quickly as possible before anyone finds out.”
“Oh, wow, did you hex someone?” Miranda asks as she quickly drives back toward town.
“Hex? No! I found out why Phoebe lied about not being at work the whole time on the 4th of July and why she’s leaving town, though.” I proceed to tell Miranda about how the conversation went down. Her mouth drops open in a silent O.
“We chased down a bus and forced it to stop for no good reason?”
“Yep.”
“After Drew told us it was a big no, no.”
“Pretty much,” I respond.
“Yikes. Do you think they’ll tell on us?”
I cringe. “I hope not. I mean, they don’t really have reason to, considering the bus driver thinks the bus just had some kind of malfunction that you repaired for him. I can only hope Drew never finds out about this.”
“You and me both, sister.”
I hate the thought of keeping anything from Drew, but I’m pretty sure I hate the thought of going to jail even more.
“Does that mean Cody really killed Darla?” Miranda asks.
“I suppose it could. It rules out one of our suspects,” I point out.
We fall silent the remainder of the drive back to town. My heart is heavy now that I realize Phoebe didn’t kill Darla. I got my hopes up too high when I convinced myself that she was a likely suspect.
Sure, that still leaves Harold and Hilda, but it also still leaves Cody. What if he really did blackout and kill her? Now I just feel sick to my stomach. Miranda drops me off at Marcall’s while she goes to park her car. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out today,” she says.
“Me too,” I respond sadly.
Chapter 16
I trudge back into Marcall’s thinking about what a mess everything is. I’m glad I didn’t mention anything to Damien before we went on our wild goose chase.
And what happens when Drew finds out that we used magic to stop a bus that we shouldn’t have in the first place? I feel like I’ve made such a mess of things.
I’m only slightly cheered up when I remember that it’s Wednesday which means the Crested Peaks Farmer’s Market takes place this evening. “Who wants to go to the farmer’s market?” I call out in the quiet café.
No sooner do I get the words out of my mouth when Marshall, Marcus, and Stumpy all tear out of the back room. “We want parsley!” Marshall demands.
“And beet greens!” Marcus adds.
“What about you, Stumpy? Do you want something from the farmer’s market?” I ask.
“He wonders if they have mice there,” Marshall answers for him.
“Eww, no, we’re not looking for mice just for you.”
Marshall looks at Stumpy again and then turns back to me. “Crickets?”
“Gross. No animals and no bugs. Not on purpose anyway. How about some freshly grown, organic catnip?”
“He says okay,” Marcus offers. “But he wants to know if you’ll pull us around in the wagon.”
“I suppose.” How do I get talked into these things? I get the wagon out, and the three of them pile in, Stumpy with an assist by me of course, and we head off to the farmer’s market down the street.
At every stand we visit, that has some kind of vegetable or fruit or greens, the rabbits are full on sad face. As if they haven’t eaten in days and are desperate for a fluffy carrot top or a fresh radish.
At this point, they won’t need dinner when we get home; they’ll have eaten their fill by the time we’re done here. Even Stumpy gets excited when we spot the Five Dachshund Bakery, which has delicious crunchy cat treats in his favorite flavors like chicken and tuna.
Our final stop of the evening is the Thai One On Food Truck that Damien is always raving about, but I have yet to try. I order pad thai and spring rolls. I know, about as unimaginative as one can get, but I just love it. The noodles and the peanuts and the spicy and sweet mixture just push all the right culinary buttons for me.
“Hi, guys!” the young woman who waits on me greets my companions in the wagon. Suddenly they all sit up extra straight, waiting for the inevitable treat. She gives each of the rabbits a fresh cilantro sprig and for Stumpy a small bite of chicken.
