The Iced Princess (20 page)

His voice held a tone of controlled anger, like he was talking with his jaw clamped shut. I had unthinkingly made things worse for Pinky and my parents and me. And now the question was, what was Will planning to do about it?

I wanted to call Pinky and warn her, but then she'd forget what she was doing and burn the blueberry muffins she was baking. And I couldn't deliver upsetting news like that to my parents so late in the evening. Erin was the best choice at the moment.

I called her on my cell phone so I could play the message left on my home machine. “Hi, Erin, still correcting papers?”

“Oh no, it was only a few assignments.”

“Well, do you have time to listen to something? It's a message I got from Molly's husband.”

“I can hear in your voice that it's not good.”

“No, it is not. Here you go.” I turned the volume up and held my cell phone close to the machine.

“
Cami!
” she yelled when it stopped. “Play it again.” I did so two more times. When I put the phone back to my ear, Erin said, “You are in such deep doo-doo, and I'm wondering what we need to do about it.”

My stomach tightened when she voiced what I already knew—I had made an awful situation even worse. But there were two bright spots to focus on. Neither Pinky nor I had committed a crime, despite what Will may try to pin on us. And we had a strong team of supporters who would help us through the worst of the worst.

“Will Dalton has all the money in the world and can make things pretty miserable for Pinky and my family if he wants to. Knowing you're there for us means a lot, Erin,” I said.

“We've all had our turns needing help over the years.”

“It's hard to believe, but this makes the whole scandal with the Zimmers seem pretty minor.”

“I guess, and the bright spot in all of that is that it brought you back to Brooks Landing.”

“Very true.” I paused for a second. “I should tell you what I did tonight.”

“What?”

I filled Erin in on my trip to Will Dalton's house, following his friend home to Plymouth, and then swinging by the Zimmers' house and watching Ramona and her house guest bidding each other a warm good-bye.

“Cami Brooks, are you turning into a spy or what?”

“Well, maybe I am. There are strange things going on with all these people, and I want to find out what they're up to.”

“I'll give you that much. Molly's husband sounds like he's fallen off the deep end. And that Ramona has some nerve casting stones at you when it sounds like she's involved in some hanky-panky of her own. Which reminds me, when are you supposed to get the results back on that poison pen letter she dropped off for you?”

“I'm hoping early next week. Clint didn't know for sure. If it turns out there is poison in the letter, I think it's the link to Molly's death. What a thing to have to tell her mother; Molly was not the intended victim after all. I was.”

“That'd be a tough one for sure.”

“And then we have the case of the bathroom light in the shop.”

“It's turned into a case?”

“Practically. Pinky drove by a while ago, and the light was on again. By the time I got there to check it out, it was off.”

“You are getting it checked before the place burns down, I hope.”

“Dad is on it. Erin, remember how we used to look forward to Friday nights so we could go out and have fun?”

“Yeah, now it's all about schoolwork and spying.”

I laughed. “Thanks for listening. I feel a hundred percent better than I did a few minutes ago.”

“Anytime, my friend. And feel free to call if you need help in the shops tomorrow. I have nothing planned.”

“Will do. 'Bye for now.”

Talking to Erin perked me up and also relaxed me at the same time. My stomach gave another growl, reminding me it had been over twelve hours since breakfast, my only meal of the day. I opened the refrigerator, pulled out the stir fry leftovers, and was about to dish some up when my cell phone rang.

“Camryn, it's Clint.”

“Hi.”

“I thought you'd want to know the light is on in your shop bathroom again, if you want to run down here.”

“Pinky noticed the same thing about an hour ago. And when I went to check, it was off and I didn't smell any wires burning. What's causing it is beyond me, but we're getting the wiring checked, and I'm holding on to the hope that everything will be fine until morning.”

“If you say so. I'll have the night patrol pay extra attention, watch for any smoke, and so on.”

He deserved credit for that. “Thanks, Clint. Have a good night.”

“And the same to you, Camryn.”

As I spooned stir fry onto a plate, I thought about the bizarre bathroom light situation and wondered how it had started all of a sudden. “Molly, I know I'm really just talking to myself and that you can't hear me. But hypothetically speaking, if you have anything to do with that light going on and off, will you just quit it? Please.”

I heated my meal in the microwave and poured myself a glass of milk. I was tired, weary right down to my bones, and hoped the milk would help settle my nerves enough for a restful night's sleep. I sat down with my dinner at the kitchen table and thought back on a day packed full of unimaginable events. Hopefully it'd be easier to digest my food than it was to digest everything that had happened since morning.

Molly's mother had been released from jail, and Emmy would bail out tomorrow. After demonstrating poor judgment, strange behavior, and leaving me that message, it was anyone's guess what Will Dalton would do next. And Ramona Zimmer may have lost her mind, was all I could figure. I knew people killed others for reasons that made no sense to anyone else. But risking spending the rest of her days in prison because she lost an election and thought I should pay with my life was not anywhere close to rational, if that was, indeed, the case.

To top things off, if she'd taken up with a man and convinced him to do the dirty deed, that was exponentially worse. There had been no sign of her husband, Peter, the last two times I'd scoped out their house. It was possible he had either moved on to his next gift horse or Ramona had finally given him his marching orders.

My mind switched to Emmy Anders and how she had gone from sweet little old lady to crabby employee to murder suspect in a few short days. It seemed the police had no inclination to look beyond her as the guilty party. If she proved to be the one responsible, so be it. If not, we owed it to Molly and Irene Ryland and . . . Will Dalton to find out who was. I gave myself a pinch in the arm because I'd grudgingly forced myself to include him.

Molly's stepbrother definitely needed to be tracked down. At least he was on the police's radar. They knew he had blackmailed Molly for thousands and thousands of dollars. If he was capable of doing that, it wasn't too much of a stretch to think he'd seek revenge when the money stream came to an abrupt halt.

I finished the last bite of food, put my dishes in the sink, then went into my bedroom and put on my pajamas. I didn't care that I wasn't out with friends doing something exciting. All I wanted was a boring, uneventful end to the day and a dreamless sleep. I got half my wish.

—

M
olly's ghost came to me right before it was time to get up the next morning. Irene Ryland and I were in Molly's den with a number of people who all had their backs to us. Molly came up to her mother and me and smiled. She reached out toward us but didn't touch us. “I'm glad you found each other,” she said. My alarm rang before either her mother or I could answer.

“Another minute and I would have missed your visit, Molly.” I turned off the alarm and smiled. My heart wasn't pounding, and I wasn't scared out of my wits. Was I getting
used to Molly's ghost visiting me in my dreams? Maybe I was less afraid because it was morning, or maybe it was because Irene was there, too. I did not know. “Molly, we will find out the truth so you can rest in peace.” And I can quit obsessing about what really happened in Curio Finds on that fateful day.

I
was barely out of bed when Irene Ryland phoned. “Cami, I hope I'm not calling too early.”

“No, not at all.”

“I wanted you to know that I was going through some boxes this morning and found a picture of Troy.”

“That is great news! Would it be okay if I stopped by your house this morning before I go to work?”

“Of course.”

“Wonderful.” I did a quick calculation of when I needed to be at the shops. I tried to get there a little earlier on Saturdays. “All right then, I'll be over in about thirty minutes if that works.”

“That's fine, and I'll have coffee ready.”

Coffee sounded good. “Thanks.”

I wanted the Brooks Landing Police to know about the
photo, and to see if there were any updates on Troy Ryland, but I didn't feel like talking to Clint, so I called Mark on his work cell phone. It was official business, after all.

“Hi, Mark, are you working today?”

“Oh yeah, out on patrol cruising around the neighborhoods so the folks know we're looking out for them.”

“I've heard people appreciate that. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure, what's up?”

“I just got off the phone with Molly's mother. She found a photo of Troy Ryland, and I'm going over there to check it out.”

“Clint will be glad to hear it. We've been running up against brick walls trying to find the guy. He doesn't have a Minnesota driver's license or even an ID. He's never been arrested. No mug shots, fingerprints. And the post-office box in St. Paul belongs to a guy with a different name. And it has for years.”

No driver's license or identification in Minnesota? And the P.O. box number that Irene gave Clint is not in Troy's name? “That's odd. So it's possible he moved away to parts unknown.”

“Seems like it's more than just possible.” Mark got a call via the police radio, answered the dispatcher, then said, “I was going to offer to meet you over at Mrs. Ryland's place, but I gotta take this gas drive-off call.”

“No biggie, I'll see what she has and let you know.”

“Roger that.”

—

M
y dad phoned as I was putting on my makeup. “Good morning, sweetie. Allen, the electrician we like, will be down to the shop about nine thirty. He thought that should
give him enough time to size things up before you open. And if he needs to replace any wiring, we'll figure out the best time to get that done.”

“I'm glad. It'll be a relief to get it checked out.”

“Yes, indeed. Mom and I don't have much planned for the day, so give a shout if you need me.”

“Thanks, Dad, will do.”

I sped through the rest of my morning routine and arrived at Irene's house a few minutes ahead of schedule. When she opened the door, my heart went out to her. I saw the drawn look of exhaustion on her face and tried to imagine what it was like to be in her shoes. Her life had gone from normal, as she knew it, to anything but. I gave her a hug, careful not to squeeze as tightly as I wanted to.

She patted my arms when we'd finished. “Thank you, Cami, I needed that. Come right in. The coffee is ready, and Troy's picture is on the kitchen table.”

I followed Irene, once again surprised that despite her medical condition, she had a fairly sprightly gait. If push came to shove, she would probably beat me in a footrace. She walked to the table, picked up the photo, then handed it to me. It was an older snapshot of a young man some distance from the camera. He was standing by a tree and had one hand raised like he was waving. I was hoping for a close-up shot, but this would have to do.

As I studied the photo, Irene set a cup of coffee on the table in front of me. “When was this photo taken?” I asked.

“It must have been around the time I married his father, or within a few years, anyway. Troy would have been eighteen when we got married. His face hasn't changed much over the years; at least, it hadn't. Unless he gained or lost a
lot of weight since the last time I saw him, or grew a beard, something like that.”

“You know what? It's something to go on. And how old is Troy now?”

She thought for a few seconds. “He'd be forty-three, a little more than six years older than Molly.”

I held up the picture. “Is it all right if I take this to the police? They haven't been able to locate a photo of Troy. I guess he doesn't have a driver's license.”

“He used to, I think, unless he was driving out here without a license back then.”

“I don't know the answer to that. I'm sitting here thinking that maybe the police can do one of those face-aging things to get a better idea of what Troy looks like now.”

“That is a very good idea.” Irene sighed. “It's about impossible for us older ones to keep up with all the latest technology.”

I smiled and didn't correct her by saying face-aging computer programs had been around as long as I could remember. And she wasn't that old. “Irene, you gave the assistant police chief Troy's P.O. box number the other day.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Any idea how long he'd had the box?”

“Not really. Years, I guess.”

Years, that's what I was hoping. He must have rented it under a different name. “Hmm, maybe we can save the police some time and legwork by checking to see if he still has the box. It might be worthwhile to pay a visit to the St. Paul Post Office.”

“I'm not sure I understand. I don't think the postal workers are allowed to tell people who rents the boxes.”

“I'm sure you're right about that. What I was thinking is . . . well, I used to have a post-office box myself, and I didn't get my mail every day. If I wasn't expecting anything special, sometimes it'd be a few days before I checked. Anyway, when I had mail or maybe when my box was getting too full, I'd get a text message from the post office telling me that. I say we send Troy a letter of some sort to that box, something marked “Important” that entices him to go there to pick it up. I'll arrange to have the next day off, and I just bet he'll show up to get his mail.”

Irene tapped the table. “I'll go with you.”

I shook my head. “Thanks, but I don't think that'd work, because Troy knows you, and if sees you, who knows what might happen. He doesn't know me. If it works out, I'll try to take a photo of him that I can hand over to the police. Maybe between the St. Paul and Brooks Landing police departments, they can set up some sort of sting to catch him and put him behind bars for a long, long time.”

She smiled. “That would be a very good thing.” Then her face sobered and she grabbed ahold of my hand. “Especially if it turns out Troy took my Molly's life.”

Her words took my breath away, and I nodded. “Especially then.”

—

I
walked into Brew Ha-Ha and did my best to look pleasant when I greeted Pinky and her Saturday morning customers. The weekend crowd was different from weekday regulars. People were more relaxed and gave the impression they had no better place to be. I caught Pinky's attention and tipped my head toward my shop. “Got a second?”

She nodded, threw the towel she was holding on the back counter, and followed me.

“Okay, you're busy, so I'll just tell you two quick things. An electrician will be here at nine thirty to check out that goofy bathroom light.” I pulled the picture of Troy out of my purse. “And Irene Ryland found this. I know it's old and it's a small image, but does he look familiar to you? As in, could he have been the one in the shops the day Molly died?”

Pinky took the photo, moved her head right then left, and shrugged. “Holy moly, Cami, I don't know. It's possible, but I wouldn't swear to it. If I saw him in person I think I'd recognize him, but I sure can't tell from this little photo. How long ago was this taken, anyway?”

“Probably twenty years.”

She shook her head. “Nope, sorry, I can't tell much from this.”

“I'm going to see if we can get a face-aging thing done. That should help.”

“Maybe.” The bell on her door dinged. “Duty calls.”

“Do you need my help?”

She shook her head on the way out. “I'm good for now, anyway.”

I turned the lights on in Curio Finds but kept the sign turned to “Closed” for the time being. Allen the electrician came in with his small bag of equipment a few minutes later. He was around fifty, and his lips were turned up in a perpetual smile.

“Hi, Cami, it's been some years since I've seen you. You're looking good as ever.”

“Thanks, Allen, and you, too. I appreciate your quick response, and on a Saturday, besides.”

“No problem. Saturday, Monday, makes no difference to
me.” He pointed to the back storeroom. “The electrical box is back there, if memory serves.”

“Yes, it is.”

“And your dad said it's the bathroom light that's been acting up, huh?”

Acting up was a good way to describe it. I nodded.

“I'll take a look at that first. The problem might be with the switch.” He went in and flipped the switch up and down a few times then removed the plate and had a look. “Seems to be fine. Wires aren't loose and don't have any little breaks or anything.” I followed Allen into the storeroom. He slipped off his canvas jacket and dropped it on the floor. He opened the small metal door of the electrical box. It had a single row of fuses in it. He pointed. “It's nice they're marked.” He tapped one of the fuses. “This here is the one to the bathroom, the office, and the storeroom. I'll see if there's a loose wire.”

“
Cami
,” Pinky called from the archway.

“Carry on, Allen. It sounds like Pinky needs help in the coffee shop, so I'll be next door if you need me.”

“Okie doke.”

—

A
fter I helped serve about a dozen daily specials, I returned to see if Allen had figured out the problem. He closed the fuse box and turned when he heard me behind him. “Well, there is no problem with any of the wires that I can find. They are all intact and working just fine.” He tapped the wire tester he was holding against his shoulder.

“What's causing the light to act up?”

“You got me. I can put a new switch in the bathroom for the heck of it.”

“Sure, go ahead, just in case it turns out to be that after all.” I was in the “better safe than sorry” camp when it came to anything electrical.

Allen had completed his job by the time Curio Finds was open for business. I phoned my parents, and Mom answered. “Cami, I was just about to call you to let you know the florist is delivering the flowers to Irene Ryland today. It's a lovely basket, and I included all of our names, if you'll pass that on to Pinky.”

“Sure thing. And can you pass something on to Dad?”

“What is it?” I gave her the lowdown on Allen's inspection then ended the call when a customer came in. I had a small rush of people in the next half hour, did some great business, then nothing. I sat down on the stool behind my counter and was thinking about the electrician's inconclusive findings when Emmy Anders walked through the door. Her sudden arrival gave me a bit of a start.

Pinky picked that second to pop her head into the archway, and when she saw Emmy, her mouth dropped open like she expected the worst was about to happen. Emmy had her back to Pinky and missed her reaction. Besides, in my opinion, the worst had already happened. Molly Dalton had died in our shop.

At the moment, all I longed for was world peace.

“Emmy, hi.” My cheeriness sounded less than genuine. I struggled to find something more to say, but my mind had drawn a blank.

Emmy's eyes darted toward the bathroom then back to me. The look on her face was difficult to read: maybe it was a mixed bag of regret and a sense of caution. “Hi, Cami. I feel a little funny asking you this, but I was wondering if
you might be able to break away sometime this morning to give me a ride home.”

Pinky's eyebrows shot up, and she could hold her tongue no longer. “Hi, Emmy. Cami can break away right now. Everything is under control in the shops, right Cami?” I could read between the lines and figured out that Pinky did not want Emmy hanging around in case a customer came in and recognized her.

And I had offered to give her a ride. “Um, right. Now is a fine time to run you home.”

Emmy smiled and nodded. “Thank you, dearie.”

“Let me grab my coat and purse.” I hurried to the back room and got what I needed. I fished the keys out of my pocket and ushered Emmy out the door. The cold air made both of us pull our collars up around our necks on the walk to my car.

When we were inside and after I'd started the engine, Emmy turned and answered the question before I asked it. “After I bonded out they turned me loose and I was too embarrassed to call my neighbor, Lester, to come and pick me up. I hope you don't mind me showing up unannounced like that.”

“Of course not. I'm glad you did.”

“I know I have some work ahead of me to prove to everyone that I am innocent.”

I looked Emmy squarely in the eyes and believed in my heart of hearts she was telling the truth. But I needed a final assurance. I lifted my right arm. “Emmy, raise your right hand.” She looked puzzled but did as I asked. “Do you swear once and for all that you had nothing whatsoever to do with Molly's death?”

Her lips curled up then her face turned solemn. “I do so swear, before God and before you, Camryn Brooks.”

That sealed the deal for me. I reached over, took her hand in mine, and we shook hands.

“Tell me what I can do to help you,” I said as I moved my left hand to the steering wheel and my right to the gear shift.

“I am grateful for your offer, but I just don't know yet. You have no idea how much your friendship and support means to me. I can't adequately tell you.”