Schooled in Deceit: A Lacamas Village Cozy Mystery, Book 1, page 10
“Oh, Perla said that, did she? Well, I’ll be talking to her, too.” He stopped outside the shed and ran his hands through his hair. “You could have been killed. We need to call the police.”
I started to protest, but I knew he was right.
He studied my face. “Let’s get you warmed up while I call.”
With an arm around me, he guided me into the boating shed, where he sat me on a straight-backed chair. Rummaging around in the corner, he pulled out a space heater, and set it down in front of me, plugging it in and turning it on.
He seemed relieved when it sprang to life. “I don’t use it all that often,” he said, turning to pull out his phone and call the police.
Once he had clicked off the call, he pulled off his jacket and tucked it around my shoulders.
I gave him a weak smile. “I don’t think that will help much, Elijah,” I said. “I think it will just make your jacket wet.”
He grinned back. “Yes, but I’ll feel better about myself if I try to help.”
Sirens sounded from far away but quickly descended into the neighborhood. Elijah went out to the trailhead to wave them in. I shivered despite the warmth from the space heater.
Detective Crandall stuck his head in the door. “Misty? Ms. Michaels?”
I waved him in under the dim light. “Over here, Detective Crandall.”
He stepped gingerly around the ropes and boats on the floor, stopping by the space heater to peer at me. “Are you all right?”
“Cold. Very cold.”
He frowned. “I’ll have the paramedics check you out, then you can tell me what happened.”
He went to the door and called in the paramedics, who stomped in, set down their gear and got to work. A few minutes later, wrapped in a heated blanket in the back of an ambulance, I greeted Detective Crandall with a steadier gaze.
“You look better already,” he said, touching my blanket-wrapped shoulder.
“I feel better,” I said. “But can we get this over with so I can go home?”
I described what happened on the lake. After chiding me for going alone, he asked me several questions about what I had seen, or actually, not seen.
“So you have no idea who it was?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
I leaned my head against the side of the ambulance as I stared at the sky. Finally, I shook my head.
Silence greeted me. Finally, I turned to look at Detective Crandall.
He leaned toward me, placing one hand on the side of the ambulance as if I was going to bolt.
“Ms. Michaels, I want you to listen to me very carefully.”
I gulped. His face was so close to mine I could smell his spearmint gum.
“The person who killed Mr. Wiggins is still out there. It is my job to find them. Not yours. Keep asking questions and you might just get yourself killed. Do you understand?”
I pulled away from him. “Are you threatening me, Detective Crandall?”
“I’m not, Ms. Michaels. I’m just stating facts. I really don’t want to see you get hurt.”
With that, he turned and walked away.
Chapter 25
A police officer drove me back to Audra’s house, for which I was grateful. As I left, Elijah was showing Detective Crandall where he had found me.
I had just stepped out of a long, steamy shower and wrapped a towel around my head when the doorbell rang. I sighed. Apparently, Detective Crandall had more questions.
Flinging on one of Audra’s fluffy hotel-quality robes and slippers, I stepped gingerly downstairs, the doorbell pealing again.
Unwrapping the towel from my head, I opened the door and peeked out.
“Misty, are you all right?” Perla and Jonathan stood on my porch with a pizza box.
Laughing in relief, I took off the chain and flung open the door.
Perla gave me a pointed look as she walked in. “Why isn’t your security on? You can’t just open the door for anyone.”
She was right. I pushed the door closed behind us.
“Remind me to set the code when you guys leave,” I said, following them toward the kitchen.
The doorbell pealed again. I returned to the door, only this time, I peeked out first. Lisa Wiggins and Yolanda Stevenson stood on the steps, shopping bags in their hands. They waved.
I opened the door to let them in.
Lisa looked me up and down. “You look fine,” she said. “Perla said you nearly died.”
I waved them both in. “I’ll tell you all about it.”
I ushered them into the kitchen nook, where Perla had already found plates and napkins.
“How did you know about this already?” I asked.
Perla gave me a look. “Elijah called and yelled at me for letting you go by yourself and then yelled some more about me going by myself. It was a fun call. He threatened to pull my water rights.”
Jonathan laughed. “Is that really a thing?”
“It is here.” Perla rolled her eyes.
“And I was visiting over at Lisa’s when Perla called, so we both came for moral support,” Yolanda added. “We brought wine and cookies.”
Lisa opened a box and plopped pieces of pizza onto paper plates, handing one to me and one to Jonathan, who held it up. “I just came for the free pizza.”
I toasted him with my own slice. “A worthy reason.”
He nodded solemnly and bit into his pizza.
Lisa watched him and shook her head, then picked up a slice for herself. “We women have to stick together. We can’t depend on the men to do it, no offense, Jonny.”
He waved off her protestation, his mouth full of pizza.
Yolanda offered me a glass of wine, but I shook my head. If I drank now, I would fall asleep on my feet.
“I’m so sorry you had to experience that attack, Misty,” she said.
That was my cue to launch into my story. When I finished with Elijah finding me near the trailhead, they sat in silence, chewing on their pizza.
I looked around the table. “Well? What do you think? Was it the killer?”
“Of course, it was the killer,” Perla said, waving her napkin at me before using it to wipe off pizza sauce from her lips. “Who knew you would be out there?”
I slumped back in my chair, holding a slice of pizza in one hand and gave her question some thought. Setting the slice on a plate, I ticked off the people on one hand. “Besides you? Detective Crandall, Elijah, Owen Murphy,” I said. “Oh, and Daniel Wiggins.”
Lisa looked startled. “Our Daniel? How did he know you were out there?”
I told them how I had run into him at the trailhead, belatedly remembering what both he and Detective Crandall had said about killers returning to the scene of the crime.
“I didn’t know you would go out by yourself,” Perla said, her eyes on her pizza. She pulled a long string of cheese off and draped it into her mouth.
“I thought you were dairy-free this week,” Jonathan remarked.
“Pizza doesn’t count.”
He watched her for a moment before shrugging. “What kind of bullets did the killer use?” He turned back to me.
I threw up my hands. “How would I know what kind of bullets?”
An irritated look crossed Perla’s face. “Any good mystery writer knows about guns and bullets.”
“I’m new at this,” I protested. I got up to rummage in the refrigerator for sparkling water.
The others sat in silence for a moment, apparently pondering this new train of thought.
“With the lake as small as it is, it could have been either a rifle or a handgun,” Jonathan said.
Perla turned toward me. “Did you hear a kind of click-crack before each shot?”
My brow furrowed and I closed my eyes as I tried to remember. Then I shook my head. Nope, that wasn’t the sound I heard.
“Then it probably was a handgun,” Perla said. “Which raises a few questions.”
“Like what?” I looked at her blankly and noticed that Lisa and Yolanda were doing the same.
Perla fixed an eye on me. “Think it through, teach.”
I rolled my eyes and took another sip of soda, then settled back in my chair, my eyes on the ceiling. “If they really wanted to kill me, a rifle would have been a better choice, right? With a rifle, I’ve heard you have better aim.”
Perla nodded and motioned for me to continue.
“But it seems to me that a rifle is a lot harder to hide than a handgun, so that would have taken advance planning. Our idea to kayak was sudden and squishy, so the killer would not have had time to get the rifle and hide it afterwards.”
Perla nodded again. “That’s what I’m thinking, too.”
Jonathan leaned back in his chair and looked over at Perla. “You have a handgun. How easy is it to aim?”
“You have a gun?” My question was louder than I expected it to be. I was just surprised. Maybe I shouldn’t have been.
“Of course,” she said, waving a hand to dismiss my incredulity. “Dennis is on the road a lot and I have a gun so I feel safer.”
“Do you own guns, too?” I asked, gesturing around the room.
Yolanda shook her head, but Lisa nodded.
“Actually, Samuel kept guns in a gun safe in his office.” She frowned. “I’m not even sure I know the combination.”
Then Lisa shot me a rueful glance. “Good thing I have a solid alibi for when my husband was killed.”
Yolanda’s ears perked up and she turned to look directly at Lisa. “What exactly is your alibi, Lisa?”
I breathed a small sigh of relief that I wasn’t the only person who questioned Lisa’s innocence in her husband’s death.
Lisa looked down at her plate. “I’d rather not say, but the police know.”
“We all know,” Perla hooted out a blast of disgust. “We all know you’ve been taking business classes so you can sell that goofy jewelry of yours.”
“That’s your alibi?” Yolanda asked, shaking her head. “Everyone knows about your classes. I thought you were having an affair with Daniel.”
Lisa’s mouth fell open as she stood up and tossed her pizza slice back on her plate, which she slammed on the table.
“You knew I was taking classes and you didn’t tell me and you thought I was having an affair with my stepson?” She waved her arms wildly in the air as her voice ratcheted up a notch. “I actually don’t know which to be more offended by.”
Jonathan paused with a slice of pizza near his mouth. “I’d probably go with the affair. That’s much more offensive, especially with Daniel Wiggins.”
Lisa turned to look at Yolanda. “I thought you were my friend. How did you know? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Yolanda wiped her mouth on a paper napkin and went to Lisa. She placed both hands on Lisa’s arms and looked her in the eyes. “Samuel told us. He told everyone. He was so proud of you.”
Tears began to fill my eyes as she went on. “He said you didn’t want anyone to know yet, but he couldn’t help bragging about you. So we kept quiet until you wanted to tell us.”
“Or until your husband got murdered and it came out,” Perla added.
I glared at her for ruining the moment. She held up her hands and mouthed, “What?”
Yolanda and Lisa hugged for a long moment, tears on both their cheeks.
Lisa finally pulled away. “He really was a good man, just got cranky as he got older.”
“As long as he left you in good shape, I won’t say a word against him,” Yolanda said, peering closely at her friend.
Lisa started to respond, then apparently decided against it. “My finances are just fine. So don’t worry about me.”
Then she turned to me apologetically. “We probably should let you get some rest, Misty. I’m sorry to bring the drama tonight.”
With that, Lisa and Yolanda gathered their purses and headed for the door. I looked to see if Perla and Jonathan were following, but, no, they remained in their seats around the kitchen table. My shoulders drooped. Lisa was right. I really was tired.
I gathered up paper plates and cups and shoved them into the trash compactor by the kitchen sink.
“Who do you think it was?” Perla asked.
I held up both hands. “I feel as if I’m running out of suspects.”
Perla stood up and stretched. “My money is still on Lindell Stevenson, but I couldn’t very well say that with his wife sitting there, even if they are about to get divorced.”
I watched her and something occurred to me. “You don’t like him much, do you?”
She frowned as she folded her paper plate in half, then dropped it into the trash compactor. “We’ve had our differences of opinion from time to time.”
Jonathan sat straight up. “Isn’t he the guy who tried to lowball the landlord when you wanted to expand?” He banged his hand on the table. “It is him, isn’t it? That’s why you’re so fired up that it must be him.”
Perla hesitated, throwing me a look. “Several years ago, I wanted to expand the bookstore, but Lindell Stevenson tried to cut me out of the deal. But then I ended up buying the whole building, so it all worked out. Why would I have anything against him?”
“He called you an old hag,” Jonathan pointed out.
Perla glared at him, like she wanted him to shut up.
“And then he wouldn’t rent the office space you offered him for his wife,” Jonathan went on. “It took you forever to get that space rented. You kept complaining about how much it cost.”
Perla turned toward Jonathan and stuck her finger right in his face. “Now listen here. Just because I don’t like him doesn’t mean he’s not a murderer.”
Jonathan hesitated, as if he was trying to figure out the double negative Perla just threw at him.
With that, she grabbed her light jacket from the back of her chair and turned toward me. “You keep your head down, Misty. Maybe we should just let the police handle this.”
My mouth fell open as I turned to follow them toward the door. “But you were the one who said we should look into it.”
She turned toward me, worry etched onto her face. “That was before someone tried to kill you.”
I clasped my hands to my heart. What a sweet thing for her to say.
She went on. “My staff is too small to lose another member. I sure hope you don’t get killed or get sent to prison. I can’t afford it.”
Right. I nodded as the two filed out the door.
“Lock up,” Jonathan reminded me.
I gave him a thumbs-up and closed the door, then quickly turned and set the alarm. Leaning against the door, my whole body suddenly felt exhausted. The paramedics warned me that I would need a day or two for my body to feel back to normal. I stumbled back into the kitchen to put away the remains of the pizza, thinking about the case as I opened the refrigerator.
I felt like I had just as many suspects before as I did now. But who would go to the trouble of trying to warn me off in such a deadly fashion?
Chapter 26
I woke the next morning to the buzz-buzz-buzz of my cell phone on the nightstand. Audra. Oh, Audra! I forgot to call her the night before to tell her what had happened.
I clicked open the phone. “Good morning, sister.”
“Why did I find out from someone else that you were nearly killed last night? Are you all right? Do I need to come home?” The questions flew rapid-fire across the phone to me.
“Audra, calm down. I’m fine,” I said, struggling to sit up in the bed and thinking to add, “I’m safe.”
“Oh, gosh, Misty. I couldn’t believe it. Who would shoot at you on our lake?” Her voice sounded shaky so I knew she was upset.
“How did you hear about it already? It just happened last night,” I said, stretching my arms over my head. My body felt better though still tired. I planned to take it easy today.
“Perla called me. She was worried about you.”
“Did you know Perla has a gun?” I asked.
The surprise I expected to hear didn’t materialize. “Of course,” she scoffed. “She bought that thing a few years ago. Dennis is away so much that she just didn’t feel safe. I tried to tell her that a good alarm company was a better bet, but in the end, I had to let it go. She felt safe with the gun.”
“Can she shoot it?” I asked.
“She goes to some range somewhere and practices.” I could almost see Audra waving her hand around to describe the gun range. “She’s very safety conscious.”
“That’s good to hear,” I murmured distractedly. “Do you know if Lisa or Lindell has a gun?”
Silence greeted my question. That was a good sign. It meant Audra was thinking about it. I knew what Lisa and Yolanda had said the night before, but frankly I didn’t know either of them well enough to believe them.
“Not that I know of, but I haven’t asked either. Look, sweetie, I have to go. Call me later to check in.”
Without waiting for my answer, Audra clicked off and went on living her best life in Washington, D.C. I smiled at the thought.
Then I frowned. Perla had a gun and her history with Lindell was fraught with difficulty. I wondered if she also had a difficult time with Samuel Wiggins.
I settled back in the bed, then threw my legs over the side to stand. My thoughts were so uncomfortable that my body couldn’t relax. Because here’s what suddenly occurred to me: I didn’t know Perla all that well either.
She had a gun and a history of neighborhood problems. Did I have a killer in my home last night?
When I got to the bookstore that day, Perla met me with what looked like concern.
“You didn’t have to come in today,” she said. “I’d say being shot at and almost killed qualifies for a sick day.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t want to sit at home in that big old house by myself all day. I thought it was better if I was around people.”
Perla gestured toward the coffee bar, where a customer was waiting. “Then you’d better get to work.”
I made lattes, mochas and cappuccinos for the next hour, until the line slowed down. I was wiping down the counter when the bell over the door tinkled and Lisa Wiggins stepped through. She greeted me with a concerned smile.
