Death Rides a Pony, page 18
‘They’ve hinted at it. Repeatedly.’
Although she continued to lean against the crate, Hope shifted away from Dylan. ‘If that’s the case, I’m surprised you came out here. From what I saw earlier, the four of you looked pretty cozy together.’
‘And from what I saw earlier,’ he rejoined, ‘your sister looked pretty cozy with that guy she was sitting next to.’
Hope was tempted to ask if Nate had seen the pair also and whether their seeming intimacy had appeared to spark any jealousy in him, but then it occurred to her that if Dylan didn’t recognize who Summer had been sitting next to, then in all likelihood neither did Nate. That meant she had guessed correctly in the tent. Although Nate wanted to question Sean, he couldn’t identify him by sight.
‘How well does Summer know that guy?’ Dylan went on. ‘Because the way that he sprinted out of the tent seemed a little off.’
She hesitated, debating whether she should still talk to Dylan about Sean as she and Megan had planned. Hope almost laughed, remembering how Megan had suggested that she manipulate Dylan to get him alone. It turned out that no manipulation was necessary, just the night air.
‘The man at issue,’ Hope answered after a moment, ‘is actually a closer friend to Megan than to Summer. And I’m glad that you brought him up, because Megan and I wanted to ask your opinion regarding him.’
‘I’m flattered,’ Dylan said.
‘But we need you to be discreet. We’re not eager to accuse Sean of something that he may not have done.’
‘So the guy who was sitting next to Summer and then bolted was Sean? The same Sean who Rosemarie believes was an accessory to Davis’s murder?’
‘The same Sean,’ Hope confirmed.
‘And you and Megan are beginning to think that Rosemarie might be right?’
‘Honestly, we’re not sure what to think. That’s why we wanted your opinion …’
Hope proceeded to share with him all that she and Megan had learned about Sean’s connection to Davis, his movements during the previous evening, and the injury to his elbow. Dylan listened without interruption. When she had finished, he was silent for a long minute, digesting the information.
‘Based on what you’ve told me,’ Dylan said at length, ‘there are some reasonably strong indicators pointing to Sean’s involvement in the death. For starters, he had a compelling motive due to what happened with his sister and nephew.’
Hope nodded.
‘Also, he had the opportunity. Sean was on the festival grounds last night after the booths had closed and Davis had gone missing.’
She nodded again.
‘And finally, he had the means. Considering his occupation and what I saw of his build when we were inside the tent, it’s clear that Sean wouldn’t have had any difficulty overpowering Davis on the carousel. In fact, that could be turned around as an argument in his defense. With Sean’s physical strength, he wouldn’t have needed – or bothered – to use the scarf. His bare hands would probably have been more than sufficient to strangle the man.’
‘Megan said the same thing.’ Hope was thoughtful. ‘Setting Sean aside for a moment, wouldn’t the murderer have to have been stronger than Davis in any event? It didn’t occur to me before, but that rules out smaller and weaker suspects, doesn’t it?’
Dylan shook his head. ‘Not necessarily. The killer couldn’t have been someone who was deemed medically frail, but any moderately able-bodied person would have been up to the task given the right conditions. If they took Davis by surprise, if they got the scarf around his neck at the proper angle, if they stunned him with a blow before he was able to fully defend himself. Those are all factors that could allow for a smaller or weaker person – especially someone with sufficient grit and determination – to successfully overpower an opponent who was taller or stronger. There was a contusion on Davis’s head. Based on its location and presentation, it’s difficult to determine when exactly it occurred: whether it was the first step in the attack on him or a result of his fall on to the platform, or an incidental injury while he struggled to free himself. The medical examiner might be able to tell us more, but it’s unlikely to be determinative. At this point, I wouldn’t rule out any suspects based solely on their physical size.’
Hope made a mental note that she needed to commend Megan on her prescience. Megan had said that Dylan probably had a good deal of extra insight regarding the case that they weren’t aware of, and she had been proven correct.
In pursuit of even more information, Hope said, ‘Speaking of incidental injuries, it’s interesting how many people with a connection to Davis presently have a wound. Have the police made any progress with the blood you found on the carousel platform?’
Dylan’s lips twitched with a hint of amusement. ‘I will compliment you on how smoothly you inserted that question into the conversation, but I have no intention of answering it.’
‘Why not?’ she demanded.
‘Because Nate asked me not to discuss that piece of evidence with you. He doesn’t want you or your sister involved – and frankly, I agree with him.’
‘But we are already involved,’ Hope argued. ‘I discovered the body, and Davis was Summer’s realtor. Plus, as far as I’m aware, all the current suspects are friends and acquaintances of ours. Not to mention, according to Rosemarie, we’re suspects, too.’
‘Precisely. That’s another reason you and Summer shouldn’t have any further involvement.’
Hope wavered, wondering if a little sweetness and cajolery might manage to loosen his tongue. Then she saw that Dylan’s jaw was firmly set, and she knew that no amount of coaxing would budge him an inch.
‘Fine. If that’s the way you want it,’ she said crossly. ‘But you and Nate had better not come around later and expect us to tell you which of the suspects have wounds and how they claim to have gotten those injuries.’
‘You have just validated our concerns,’ Dylan responded, ‘by admitting that you’ve been questioning suspects in a murder case about the cause of their injuries. Has it ever occurred to you how dangerous that might be?’
‘Summer and I aren’t in any danger,’ Hope scoffed.
‘Famous last words.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s all but certain that Davis Scott was killed because of one – or more – of the many egregious acts he committed as part of his profession. Aside from Summer’s house, we had no connection to the man or his profession, so there’s no reason to think that anybody would blame us for his bad deeds.’
‘That may be true, but irrespective of any original blame, the murderer may decide to blame you now for nosing around and asking questions and potentially getting them caught by the authorities.’
‘We aren’t nosing around. And we’ve barely asked any questions—’
‘I look forward to explaining that to your grandmother,’ Dylan cut her off. ‘Although I knew what you were doing and did nothing to stop you, the fact that you and your sister only asked a couple of questions from a few suspects will no doubt absolve me from all responsibility in Olivia’s eyes when something goes wrong.’
His tone was so wry that Hope couldn’t help smiling. ‘Nothing will go wrong. And even if it did, Gram is well aware that Summer and I make our own decisions. She wouldn’t hold you responsible.’
‘Famous last words,’ he said again.
The smile continued. ‘I appreciate your concern over our well-being and your many helpful suggestions, which I’ll be sure to pass along to Summer.’
‘But you’re not going to do a single thing differently, are you?’
‘Well, no.’
Dylan threw up his hands. ‘You are the most exasperating woman I have ever met!’
Hope choked back a laugh.
‘You don’t listen to a word anyone says. It’s the same with your sister; Nate has complained about it, too. Summer pretends to agree with him but promptly proceeds to do whatever is the exact opposite. And then there are your disappearing acts—’
‘Disappearing acts?’
‘When you simply vanish. One minute you’re there, and the next minute you’re gone. As in your booth, earlier this afternoon. Or in the tent this evening. I glance away for half a second, and when I look back again, you’ve evaporated into the ether.’
Still struggling to suppress her laugh, Hope said, ‘You shouldn’t take it personally. I don’t leave because of you.’
‘No?’
‘No, it was—’
Hope caught herself just in time. With regard to their booth that afternoon, she and Summer had departed partly because of Larkin’s simpering behavior and partly to warn Megan and Sean about Rosemarie’s accusations and Nate’s questions. Except neither reason was one that she wanted to share with Dylan. The exit from the tent that evening, however, could be more easily accounted for.
‘I told you already that Summer went to confront Gary. As for me,’ Hope explained, ‘I was tired of the noise and so many people inside the tent. It’s much nicer out here, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘I would.’
Dylan shifted somewhat closer to her on the packing crate. Hope didn’t move away.
‘Can I try again?’ he asked, after a brief pause.
She looked at him, not understanding. ‘Try what again?’
‘You said before that I nearly made your heart stop. I’d like to try again.’
Before she could offer any reply, Dylan’s hand went under her chin, tilting it toward him, and his lips met hers.
It began as a light kiss, questioning and searching, and when Hope responded, it deepened, Dylan’s mouth taking full possession of hers. Hope’s mind whirled with a flurry of sensations. The sultry warmth of the August air, her pulse racing through her limbs, the increasing darkness as the clouds obscured more of the stars. And in the next moment, it all faded away. She no longer felt her heart pounding inside her chest or the trace of a breeze cooling her cheek. There was only Dylan. His fingers on her skin, his lips moving over her throat, his body pressed against hers.
‘Dylan?’
It was a murmur in the distance, and neither Hope nor Dylan paid any attention to it.
‘Dylan?’
The murmur became a voice.
‘Dylan, are you out here?’
The voice was now too loud and close to ignore. Recognizing it as Larkin’s, Hope tensed, and she immediately pulled back from Dylan.
‘Hope …’ Dylan began unevenly.
She looked at him. As though reflecting a last remaining star in the sky, his eyes glittered silver at her.
‘Hello?’ Larkin called, having evidently spotted their movement. ‘I’m trying to find someone. Have you seen … Oh, Dylan, it’s you!’
Dylan didn’t answer her. His gaze remained on Hope.
‘I’ve been searching for you everywhere!’ Larkin exclaimed. ‘What on earth are you doing in this alley?’
Larkin started to walk toward them. It didn’t appear as though she had noticed Hope, who was on the far side of Dylan and further concealed in the shadows.
‘We’re having such a good time.’ Larkin gave a happy laugh. ‘Why don’t you come back inside? Nate suggested that we …’
Hope didn’t hear the remainder of the sentence. As Dylan turned to speak with Larkin, she slipped silently into the night.
NINETEEN
It began with a slow, steady hammering. Thump, thump, thump. The tempo was even, almost rhythmic. Thump, thump, thump. At first, Hope thought that it might be part of a dream, but as the haze of sleep gradually faded away, she realized that the noise was coming from outside her bedroom rather than inside her head. The construction company had evidently already commenced working on the brownstone next door. Wasn’t there some city ordinance that prohibited them from starting at such an ungodly hour?
Thump, thump, thump. Hope opened a groggy eye. Pale pink light filtered through one pane of the window, telling her that dawn had broken but only a short while ago. She frowned. The contractor and his crew were never there this early. Not to mention that it was Sunday. And then it occurred to her that she also didn’t normally hear them above the ground floor. The whir of a drill or clunk of a shovel reverberated occasionally through the boutique, but it had never traveled beyond that, which made sense considering that the work was taking place in the neighbors’ cellar to remedy water seepage along the foundation.
The hammering continued. Thump, thump, thump. If it wasn’t going away, then there was no possibility of Hope going back to sleep. With a sigh, she pushed off the blanket and rose from the bed. Seeing her clothes from the prior evening in a jumble on the floor, she sighed again, this time with frustration. She wasn’t sure if she was more frustrated with Larkin, Dylan, or herself. In any case, the night hadn’t ended well. Even though she hadn’t intended it, she had once more pulled a disappearing act. Perhaps Dylan hadn’t minded her abrupt departure. Perhaps he had been only too glad to return to the party in the tent with Larkin. Except it had been an awfully good kiss …
Leaving the clothes where they lay, Hope pulled on her silk summer robe and opened the bedroom door. When she was halfway down the hall, the hammering stopped, and she exhaled with relief. Her nerves weren’t prepared for that much pounding, especially before coffee.
‘Morning.’ Summer greeted her at the bottom of the staircase holding a pair of steaming mugs. ‘I assume that it woke you, too?’
Hope gratefully accepted one of the mugs. ‘Unfortunately, yes.’
Summer turned and padded in her own bathrobe and bare feet in the direction of the kitchen. Hope followed her.
‘I was right, wasn’t I?’ Summer said.
‘You usually are,’ her sister agreed amiably, feeling better with the first sip of caffeine, ‘but I’m not sure about what on this particular occasion.’
‘I predicted from the outset that yesterday was going to be an unholy mess. And it was! The whole thing was terrible from beginning to end.’
‘Well, maybe not every single minute of the day’ – Hope thought once more of the kiss that she had shared with Dylan – ‘but for the most part, you are correct.’
‘And this day hasn’t started off any better—’
The words were barely out of Summer’s mouth when the hammering began again. Thump, thump, thump.
‘Aargh!’ she exclaimed. ‘If this keeps up, we’re going to have to talk to Miranda and Paul. I understand that they need to fix the leakage in their cellar, but construction work on Sunday morning just after dawn can’t become a regular occurrence.’
Hope nodded. ‘Let’s try to ignore it and keep our fingers crossed that it stops again soon, permanently.’
Summer grumbled in reply.
Leaning against the side of the kitchen island, Hope took another sip from her mug. ‘So, moving on to an equally irksome topic, how did it go with Gary last night?’
The grumble repeated itself.
‘That bad?’ Hope asked.
‘It wasn’t bad or good. I never caught up with him.’
‘Oh.’
‘I know you think that Gary wasn’t actually outside the tent last night,’ Summer said, a touch heatedly, ‘but he was! I’m certain that he’s been following me!’
Hope was saved from having to respond by the hammering, which chose that moment to increase both in speed and volume. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
Summer let out an agitated squawk. ‘I can’t endure that for the entire day!’
‘You won’t have to. We’ll be at the booth,’ Hope reminded her. ‘And by the time the festival closes this evening …’ She paused, reflecting.
‘Nate won’t try to keep our booth closed today, will he? He’ll get an earful from me if he does! Morris and the committee need the ticket sales, and we need every opportunity to promote the boutique …’ It was Summer’s turn to pause, watching her sister’s brow furrow. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Listen,’ Hope said.
‘Listen? I can’t hear anything but that horrendous hammering.’
‘Yes, but follow the direction of the sound. I didn’t realize it until a second ago. The hammering isn’t coming from the brownstone next door. That’s the wrong way. I think it’s coming from the boutique.’
Summer now listened also. ‘You’re right. It does sound as though it’s coming from the boutique.’ Her hazel eyes suddenly widened. ‘Good lord, better from the boutique than from the attic.’
‘Small blessings,’ Hope agreed.
Together, they listened for another minute, both trying to determine what the noise might be.
‘I can’t figure it out,’ Hope said at last. ‘But whatever it is, we need to put a stop to it – and fast. Otherwise, Miranda and Paul will soon be complaining to us instead of the other way around.’
They promptly headed from the kitchen through the hall to the back entrance of the boutique.
‘If it were winter,’ Hope mused, ‘the noise could be air clanking through the pipes from the boiler.’
‘The pipes never clank that long or uniformly,’ Summer countered.
‘And if it were later in the day …’
The sentence was left unfinished as the hammering stopped once more. After a moment, Hope and Summer stepped into the boutique. The interior was dusky and still. Slowly, their eyes circled, searching for the source of the noise. They found nothing. The shop looked just the same as it had on the previous morning before they had gone to the festival.
‘I don’t understand.’ Hope shook her head. ‘Shouldn’t we be able to see something amiss?’
Summer drew a shaky breath. ‘Maybe it is the attic, after all.’
‘Except we haven’t given it any reason – or at least not any new reason – to be troublesome or upset. And the attic is usually the least active between dawn and noon. Creating that sort of a disturbance takes a lot of energy.’
‘That’s true. But if it’s not the attic, then—’
Thump, thump, thump.
In unison, their heads snapped toward the front of the shop. There was someone standing outside, directly behind the shade covering the door, so they couldn’t immediately identify them. But they could identify the cause of the hammering. The person was holding a long, thick umbrella and was banging the heavy wooden handle against the frame of the window that faced the street.
