Schooled in Deceit: A Lacamas Village Cozy Mystery, Book 1, page 9
Yolanda followed my eyes to the woman, who immediately dropped the smirk and pasted an expression of intense interest on her face.
“Misty, this is my assistant, Sherry.” Yolanda waited for the young woman to acknowledge me, then asked her to talk to Perla about the books she had ordered.
Yolanda turned back to me with a roll of her eyes. “She’s such a good assistant. It’s too bad she’s sleeping with my husband and I’ll have to fire her.”
My mouth fell open again. The small town of Lacamas Village was full of surprises. Yolanda placed their coffee orders and stayed at the counter while Sherry talked with Perla.
“I apologize for being so direct about my assistant,” she said. “You just looked at her like you might have seen something, and I wanted you to know I am aware.”
I met her eyes, which brimmed with sadness.
“That’s why you lied about Lindell.” My voice was hushed. “He wasn’t at his office when Samuel Wiggins was killed.”
She nodded. “He was with her,” she said, adding, “but he’s not a killer. At least, not with a big rock. If he was going to kill someone, it would be something where he didn’t get his hands dirty.”
Her comment reminded me of the big pile of dirt in their backyard. I cleared my throat. Apparently that’s my sign that I’m going to start interrogating someone. Perla and Sherry approached from the right side. I’d have to make this fast.
“I hear you had some excitement at your house the other night,” I said as I put lids on the coffees.
Yolanda’s mouth skewed to the side in dismay. “I thought Lindell was just hearing the neighbor’s cat in our yard, but it looks like someone was really out there.”
I pasted a worried look on my face. “What could they have been after?”
Yolanda regarded me for a moment before she spoke. “Every once in a while, there’s a break-in somewhere in the neighborhood.”
There didn’t seem to be much else to say.
“I hope everything works out for you.” It was the best I could come up with and it was heartfelt. I liked this woman, and her husband’s treatment of her saddened me.
“I just have to hold it all together until my valuables are hidden away and he finishes the big deal he’s working on,” she said. “It’s not going to help either one of us if he gets arrested before then.”
She turned just as Perla and Sherry reached the counter. The assistant had a hefty paperback book in one hand. Perla gestured to the book and then told Yolanda that the other one hadn’t arrived yet, apparently tied to the shipping problem earlier in the day.
Yolanda waved off Perla’s worry and pointed to the book in her assistant’s arms. “This one will get us started.”
She reached for her coffee and took a sip. Daintily licking her lips, she smiled again. “Are you sure you’re a teacher? You sure make a fine cup of coffee.”
I smiled and gestured toward her. “Maybe I should quit and do what you do. Looks like it’s working out for you.”
Yolanda grinned. “Being a consultant is a lot of work to get started, but then it’s very rewarding and quite profitable. Just say the word and I’ll show you how to get started.”
I shook my head. “I think I’ll stick to teaching.”
“For now,” Yolanda said pointedly.
I chuckled as I wiped my hands on a small towel. “For now.”
As they walked away, Perla leaned in. “Did you get any information?”
I tilted my head as I thought it over. “Not really. Yolanda and Lindell are on the verge of a breakup, though. I don’t see them working together to kill their neighbor.”
Perla sighed and then turned back toward the register. “We still have a few more people on our list. Don’t go picking out your courtroom outfit just yet.”
Chapter 22
Perla and I agreed to meet up for kayaking after work. My shift ended earlier, so I got to the trailhead before she did. Elijah had said he wouldn’t be there, but that we could help ourselves to the kayaks inside the shed.
Glancing around me, I walked slowly toward the bench where I found Mr. Wiggins. It felt like a sad place. I started to sit down where he had been found, but as soon as I touched the seat, I jumped up.
Still too soon.
The sound of someone clearing their throat made me jump again. Or perhaps I was just jumpy.
I spun around to see Daniel Wiggins sitting at the picnic table, his back resting on the table. His legs were spread out and his hands fumbled with something.
“I didn’t see you there,” I said.
“Clearly,” he replied with a smirk. Then, as if realizing he was being a jerk, he added, “Sorry to startle you.”
He stood up and walked toward me. I tried to step away from him without looking like a scared bunny, but I’m not sure I pulled it off. If he did kill his father, I didn’t want to stand too close to him.
He gestured toward the bench. “I did the same thing you did,” he said. “I was kind of hoping to, I don’t know, get a sense of my dad. Thought maybe…”
He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. “I sat down, then jumped right back up again. It just felt creepy to be sitting where he died.”
“That’s what I felt, too,” I said. I leaned a little closer to get a peek at whatever he was holding in his hand. “Are those dog tags?”
Daniel nodded, then opened his hand, showing me dog tags from the U.S. Army. “Dad was in the Army for two tours. That’s how he paid for law school.”
“Really?” I blurted, then caught myself. “I guess I just assumed he always lived in a fancy house like this neighborhood.”
Daniel shook his head. “No way. His dad was a mill worker. Worked here in Lacamas Village.”
He smiled sadly, looking at the dog tags in his hand. “He wasn’t always a crochety old man. Not that he was always easy to get along with. He wasn’t. He had ambition. It bothered him that I wasn’t driven the same way.”
“You didn’t follow your father’s footsteps and become a lawyer?”
“Oh, no, I did,” he laughed. “Instead of corporate law, I’m a public defender.”
“Well, that’s ironic.”
He chuckled and looked toward the bench. “I don’t make much compared to most other lawyers, but my dad said that I made my bed and I had to lie in it. We weren’t on the best of terms when he died. I guess that’s something I’ll just have to learn to live with.” He suddenly peered at me. “What are you doing here anyway? Returning to the scene of the crime?”
My eyes rolled by themselves. I had just started to not hate him. I waved toward the gate. “Waiting for Perla to go kayaking.”
He snorted. “Perla. She’s a piece of work. Have fun.”
I’m pretty sure he meant it sarcastically, but I intended to have fun, anyway.
With that, he raised a hand goodbye, then turned toward the gate and stepped out of the park.
I rolled my neck around. That was an unexpected and tense moment. He seemed to miss his father but admitted they hadn’t gotten along. Had he asked his father for money and Samuel refused? Did Daniel kill him for it in a fit of anger? I saw his anger first-hand when he threatened Lisa with his truck. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to think he killed his father.
My head swam as I turned back to the bench. I circled it a few times, studying it from all angles. Then I stood in front of it, looking down toward the trailhead. If someone had come from the trail to kill Samuel Wiggins, he would have seen them coming. If it was a stranger, he would have been wary. Why would he let a stranger slip up behind him and hit him over the head?
I looked around the green belt. There was the play structure, a horseshoe area, the kayak shed, and three picnic tables. I suppose, technically, the killer could have been at any of those places. My eye wandered back to the gate. If I stood in front of the bench where Wiggins died, my back was mostly to the gate. I suppose if he had good peripheral vision, he might have seen someone, but doesn’t peripheral vision worsen with age?
I kept staring at the gate. I was pretty sure that’s where the killer had come from. I turned my back to it as I thought about the case.
Suddenly the handle on the gate clicked and it swung open. I jumped. Apparently, this jumpiness was a theme today.
Detective Crandall stuck his head inside. He saw me and grimaced, then stepped into the park and closed the gate behind him.
I crossed my arms and watched him walk toward me.
“Ms. Michaels,” he said as if he had expected to find me here. “Whatever are you doing?”
“I have a very good reason for being here,” I blurted. It sounded defensive, even to me, so I took a breath to get hold of myself. “Actually, I’m waiting for Perla. We’re supposed to go kayaking.”
He smiled a half-smile and lifted a hand toward the green bench. “I thought you might be returning to the scene of the crime. Killers sometimes do that.”
My mouth dropped open. Two people in five minutes had suggested I was the killer returning to my crime scene. “You can’t seriously—”
He shrugged. “You never know.”
I gestured wildly around the bench and toward the trail. “I just wanted to see if it was possible that a stranger might have snuck up from the trail to hit poor Mr. Wiggins over the head.”
“What did you come up with?” he asked.
He actually seemed like he wanted to know, so I went on, walking a short way toward the trail, then turning back toward the bench, near where the detective now stood.
“If I’m approaching from here, there’s no way you can’t see me,” I said as Crandall nodded in agreement. “Why would you let me walk around behind you and conk you on the head?”
“That’s fair,” he said. “But—”
“But if you knew me, you wouldn’t worry about me coming up behind you,” I went on as I stepped around the bench. “So I could easily hit you over the head.”
We stared at each other.
“The victim – Mr. Wiggins – knew his killer,” Crandall finished for me.
I nodded, and then held up a finger. “Which leaves me out of the equation because he didn’t really know me and what he did know, he didn’t like,” I said, adding with a flourish, “There’s no way he would have allowed me to come up behind him.”
I mimed a mic drop, then stood back, my arms crossed in front of me, wordlessly challenging the detective.
He smiled and gestured with the little notebook in his hand. “Unless you didn’t come from the trail.” He pointed back toward the playground. “Unless you came from there,” then to the shed, “Or there.” He turned back toward me. “He might not have heard you coming.”
My triumphant smile turned upside down.
I lifted my chin. “I’ll just have to keep looking then, since I’m at the top of your suspect list. Apparently, I’d better find the killer myself.”
Chapter 23
The detective left through the gate before Perla showed up. He hadn’t said what he was doing at the scene of the crime. My toe began to tap with impatience. Where was Perla?
My phone buzzed. I hesitated before checking it. I was not up to a text war with Rodney tonight. But it wasn’t Rodney.
Hey, it suddenly got busy in here and Andrea went home with a sick headache, so I’m going to have to bail on kayaking.
I nearly stamped my feet in frustration. Looking from the lake to the gate and back again, I made my decision.
With a glance at the fading light, I yanked open the creaky door of the shed. I had planned to kayak today, and I was determined to do it, even if only for a few minutes. I wished Perla had been able to come with me, but she had told me she had soloed on the lake by herself. I had kayaked several times and felt comfortable taking one out by myself.
Mostly comfortable. I couldn’t shake a feeling that I probably should wait for Perla. But dang it, that’s what this summer was about, wasn’t it? Doing new things on my own?
Elijah said we could pick any kayaks we wanted to use. I selected a blue one and dragged it over the floor and out the door. A paddle and a life vest – a requirement – were inside.
I dragged the kayak down the ramp to the lake, pushing just the tip into the water while I pulled on the life jacket. Letting out a breath, I stood up and looked around the lake. I smiled. This was just the break I needed.
That was the thing about teachers. The school year was so intense that it was hard to shut off the school “noise” the first few days of a break, but after that, we were experts at relaxing.
I bent over and shoved the kayak a little further into the lake, then stepped in, carefully keeping three points of contact to the boat so I didn’t fall over. Once inside, I pressed my paddle into the bank and shoved, pushing myself into the lake. It took a couple more pushes before I was floating comfortably.
I paddled lightly, my hands moving in a circular motion on either side of the paddle, for a few minutes to warm up my muscles. Then I leaned forward slightly and moved my hands faster.
As I flew across the lake, a big smile broke out on my face.
“Woohoo!” I hollered, then leaned in and paddled harder, enjoying the feeling of my muscles at work. I was nearly to the other side of the small lake before I realized it.
I turned the kayak around and paddled more leisurely along the shore, keeping one eye on the setting sun. The tall trees began to cast deep shadows. The lake was small, so I knew I could get back across it if the sky got too dark.
I paddled back out to the middle of the lake. Lying back in the boat, I pulled out my feet and tucked the paddle inside so I wouldn’t have to hold it for a few minutes, though I kept one hand on it, just in case. I closed my eyes and felt the boat gently rocking beneath me.
This was what I had expected my summer to be like, not chasing after some unknown killer. I mean, really, I hadn’t even known the man who died. I just needed to keep my head down for the rest of the summer, let the police do their jobs, and then toddle back home to Sacramento and my own life, refreshed and ready for another year of second-graders.
Pop!
The kayak jerked beneath me. I struggled to sit upright and felt it again.
Pop! Pop!
Something flew past my ear. Pfft!
Someone was shooting at me. I grabbed the paddle, trying to slink down inside, but the kayak tipped over.
Pop! Something hit the bottom of the boat, which was now on the top.
I yelped and dove under water, my hand grasping the deck line, the rope along the edge. The water was colder than I expected. My teeth began to chatter, but I don’t know for sure if that was cold or fear.
I peeked my head up on the side of the boat away from the direction where I thought the shots were coming from.
Pop!
I dove again but only for a moment. The shots were coming from the other side of the boat, so whoever was shooting at me probably couldn’t see me. They were just firing to make sure.
Make sure of what? Why was someone shooting at me? My heart raced. I glanced at the sun behind me. It was almost down behind the mountains. In a few minutes, it would be dark.
I looked behind me to see how close I was to the shore. Farther than I’d like to be. I hung onto the boat and considered my plight.
Was it the killer – pop! – coming back to finish me off? Unlikely as it seemed, that was the only scenario that made sense.
My teeth chattered less, which made me nervous. Perhaps I was becoming hypothermic. The sun dipped a little further, casting the entire lake in shadow. Letting go of the boat, I took a deep breath and slipped under the water, kicking my legs silently behind me as I made an effort to get away. With every kick, I felt anger welling up inside me. How did I get in this predicament? I kicked harder. One thing I knew: I was not going to give up in the middle of the lake.
After several counts, I came up for a breath as quietly as I could. Then I slipped back under the water and kicked again with all my might.
After four such efforts, my hands touched the rocky shore. I pulled myself out of the water, grabbing onto a small tree for leverage, and hauled myself onto the trail. Gasping for breath, I crawled on all fours until I was on the other side of a large bush. I collapsed, the tears threatening to start as my anger gave way to fear.
What if the shooter saw me? Would he come over to this side of the trail? Was he on his way now?
I struggled to my feet and started running toward the trailhead. I wasn’t sure how far it was.
The root of a tree snagged my foot and I fell chest first, dirt filling my mouth.
I spit it out and continued running, using my sleeve to get more dirt out of my mouth but probably just succeeded in wiping it around.
As I rounded the turn toward the trailhead, footsteps sounded, coming down the hill toward me. A light shined in my eyes.
I screamed and fell behind a tree.
Chapter 24
A flashlight shined on my face.
“Misty? Misty, is that you?”
I held up an arm to block the light. “W-w-who’s there?” I stuttered.
“Misty, are you all right? It’s me.” Elijah shined the light on his face so I could see who it was.
He helped me to my feet, and I fell into his arms. He patted my shoulder awkwardly.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he murmured. Finally, he pulled back from me.
“What happened? I thought you and Perla were done kayaking. I came down to lock up for the night and saw a boat was missing.”
I told him what had happened. Concern and incredulity flew across his face in equal measure. He looked toward the lake, then took my arm and pulled me up the hill toward the shed, talking as we went.
“First of all, what were you doing out there without a buddy? You know the rules.”
I held up my hands. “Perla couldn’t go at the last minute, and I just figured I would only be out there for a few minutes, so it would be all right. Perla said she had soloed before, and it was fine.”
