Thrown Off: A Cozy Mystery (Brenna Battle Book 3) (13 page)

“If Carlos doesn’t have an alibi, then that’s probably what it’s going to take to clear him—finding the real killer. We’ll do it, Lourdes. Don’t worry.”
That is, if Carlos isn’t really guilty.

“Thank you!” Lourdes hugged both of us. “I guess I should be going. It’s getting late.”

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Blythe said. “We could get some of your things. Or I could come and stay with you.”

“No, it’s fine. Really. Thank you both so much. I am going to take a bath and try to get some rest before I go see Carlos tomorrow.”

I thought she was probably forgetting her house had been torn apart in the search for evidence. Not that the Bonney Bay PD was disrespectful about it, but I doubted they’d managed to put everything back the way it was. Or maybe she was just ready for some alone time and didn’t care about the mess. Too bad they hadn’t found any evidence of the killer breaking in. But then, they hadn’t really been looking for that. I’d have to mention that to Will. If he was willing to speak to me ever again. Maybe I should go straight to the Chief.
 

Wait! The killer! If Carlos was telling the truth, then the real killer had sneaked in and out of Lourdes’s house twice. It might not be safe to stay there alone.
 

“But what about the killer? The killer was in your house. Maybe you shouldn’t go back there by yourself.”

Lourdes smiled weakly. “The police will follow me home.”

“What?” Blythe said.

Lourdes pulled back the blinds and pointed. Sure enough, Adams, the newest addition to Bonney Bay’s police force, sat in a patrol car outside.

“He followed me here. They’re keeping tabs on me. Maybe they think I am involved or that I will try to cover up some evidence. But at least I will be safe.”

“Well, I guess that’s the bright side,” Blythe said.

We gave Lourdes hugs and sent her on her way.

“I need some ice cream.” I went straight to the kitchen and opened the freezer. We still had some mint chocolate chip left. Which reminded me, I had a whole lot to tell Blythe. As I dished out cones for us, I told Blythe about my snooping at the store. And about the freezer.

“Brenna! You could’ve died of hypothermia!”

“Well, you know, I think I could’ve lasted through the night. If you really think about it, the temperature—”

“You. Could. Have. Died.”

“Okay, I could have died, but how could I have known that just asking a few questions would lead to someone shoving me in the freezer?”

“I don’t know, because you were asking questions that might lead you to a
murderer
?”

“I knew you’d be mad. That’s why I didn’t say anything!”

Blythe glared at me and took a bite of her ice cream. I decided now was probably a good time to shut my mouth, eat my ice cream, and hope the dessert did the trick to put Blythe in a better mood. I was in a real bind now, and so was Blythe. We’d both promised to help Carlos, and we wouldn’t get very far if we were at each other’s throats.

After a while, Blythe said, “I think we need to look beyond Hayley. You’re right, she could still be involved, but don’t you trust that Will Riggins will look into it?”

I gulped at the mention of Will’s name. My heart hurt. I saw a spark of recognition in Blythe’s eyes, saw the concern begin to shape her expression. She could tell something was wrong there. But time was running out. We had to stay on target. What good would feeling sorry for myself do, anyway?

“You’re right,” I said quickly. “Of course he’ll investigate her thoroughly, find out who she was talking to…they have access to the phone records and all that.”

“But if they don’t find anything incriminating, the focus will stay on Carlos.”

“How could they not find anything incriminating!”

“Brenna, everything you told me, it all sounds very suspicious, but it was vague enough, it could’ve been about something else.”

“It wasn’t about something else!”

“But what if it was, and no one finds the real killer?”

“Okay. So we’ll look for other suspects. Where should we start?”

“How about The Engine? You already talked to Millie’s co-workers. What about Marvin’s?”

I wasn’t so sure I was done talking with Millie’s co-workers. In fact, I should probably try to find out who was still in the store when I made that unfortunate trip to the freezer.

“I guess one of Marvin’s co-workers could be the killer,” I conceded.

“Or at least know something.” Blythe looked me right in my eye with what I liked to call the Sister Bear Stare. “Speaking of knowing something, I know something happened with you and Will. Spill it.”

My eyes filled with tears. I looked away, too late. “He’s just mad at me, I guess.”

“There’s more to it than that. Did you guys break up?”

Did we? Dear God, I hope not.
“I told Will I love him.”

“You what? You do? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Blythe! I told Will I love him, and it was horrible. He didn’t say it back. He was mad at me, and he got even madder when I told him how I felt.”

“Oh, Brenna.” Blythe pulled me into her arms. “When did this happen?”

“Just now.”

“At the police station?”

I could tell Blythe was trying not to be judgmental with that question. But when she said it, I realized how stupid I’d been.

“Yes,” I said meekly.

“Well, how did you say it?”

“What do you mean?”

“How did you feel right before you said it?” She released me to reach across the counter for a tissue.

I blew my nose. “Scared and—angry. I guess I felt angry, about everything that was happening with Millie’s death, about the fact that Will and I couldn’t agree, that we’d been arguing so much. And I guess…angry even about how I felt about Will.”

“So you were angry that you realized you felt that deeply for him.”

“Yes,” I said weakly.

“You were angry when you said it, right?”

“Well, yeah, but…oh, great. I sounded ticked off. I sounded really ticked off.”

“Maybe he thought you were—”

“He thought I was faking it, or manipulating him. But, I told him, at the end of the interview—I told him I meant what I said about how I feel. And he brushed me off! He literally brushed my hand off of his!”

It wasn’t supposed to work like that. When you finally found a guy worth loving, when you got up the nerve to tell a man you loved him, it was supposed to be a magical moment. His eyes would fill with love too. He’d say the magic words—
I love you, too
.
I love you so much
. And then there would be a kiss that made the angels sing. And everything would be perfect. Everything would be right. It would be the beginning of Happily Ever After.

“Why do I always screw that up?” I cried. “It was a disaster, just like last time.”

“You told Will you loved him before?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t even know how I felt about him before.”

“Then what are you talking about—‘always?’ ‘last time?’”

My mouth froze, open. Jake. That’s who I was talking about. Blythe’s recently ex husband. I’d had a one-night fling with him before they ever started dating, and I’d never told her. I’d thought I was in love with Jake, my judo coach, for years before I acted on it. Finally, it had seemed like he felt the same way. But I was wrong. So wrong.

“Nothing,” I said.

“I know you, Bren, and it’s not nothing. There was another guy? Another guy you were in love with?”

I couldn’t do this. Not now. I couldn’t deal with relationship issues with Blythe and Will mad at me at the same time.

“Never mind, Blythe. Please, just never mind.”

She caught my eye again. I pleaded with my eyes.

She pressed me into a hug, then let go. “I love you, Brenna,” she said.

She was going to let it go, for now.

22

I poured coffee into Blythe’s favorite mug—the purple, nineteen-eighties vintage one with hot pink hearts all over it. I added her favorite white chocolate creamer and sprinkled cinnamon on top. It was early. Oh, so miserably early. But I smiled at my sister as she entered the small, open living area.

I was the type would would’ve been awfully tempted to give my sister the cold shoulder for a while if she’d kept the kind of things from me that I had from her. Not Blythe. She was a class act. I could tell she was still angry, but that was only because we were so close. She was trying to forgive me, to let go of the hurt of being left out, and to unite with me in my quest to find out the truth. Or, you know, help me get out of the corner I’d painted myself into with the cascade of decisions I’d made after Millie fell off that ladder.

Blythe rubbed her wet hair with a towel and eyed me skeptically. “Thanks,” she said as she took the coffee. She tasted a sip. “This is good. But you’re up before me? Showered? Coffee made? What’s going on?”

I cut to the chase. “After all the kids come this morning, maybe during the snack break, I need to go talk to Helen Rolf.”

She raised her eyebrows at me over the cup. “I thought we were going to start with Marvin’s co-workers.”

“If we’re going to help the falsely accused, we have more to worry about than finding the real killer.”

“
The Blaster.
”

Helen Rolf, who was also a librarian at the Bonney Bay Library, had taken over as editor and reporter for the
Bonney Bay Blaster
, the town’s only paper. Ellison Baxter, who’d previously held the job, had died not long before, around the same time Blythe and I came to town. Okay, the very same day we arrived. Under very mysterious circumstances. But that, as they say, is a whole ’nother story.

I nodded. “I almost called Helen last night, but it was late by the time I got home…and you and I had some talking to do. And then I thought about it, and I really think I’d have a better chance if I talk to her in person.”

“You’re going to try to get her to hold off on reporting that the police think Millie’s death was a murder?”

“And that Carlos has been arrested for it, yes. I’d bet you this coffee that Tony Pfeiffer’s leaked it to her already.”

Blythe shook her head. “Brenna, why would she agree to that?”

“Because she’s not a bloodthirsty journalist at heart. She’s conscientious. She’s determined not to report rumors. To wait for the facts and give Bonney Bay-ans accurate reporting on what’s going on in our town.”
Our town.
Yeah, I’d said it, and it felt right.

Blythe said, “Carlos has been arrested, and that’s a fact.”

“I’m going to try to get her to hold off until he’s arraigned. And pray that we find the real killer before then, and that no one contacts the bigger news outlets. Helen always posts during her lunch hour. I have to get to her before noon.”

Blythe began slicing a nectarine. The juice ran all over her plate. They were so sweet. I’d helped myself to one while I waited for the coffee to brew. They were grown in Eastern Washington, where the summers were hot, dry, and sunny and the winters were colder and snowier. Or so Will had told me when he brought us the nectarines, along with the fan. He’d told us to wait a few days on the fruit, and it would be perfect. He was right.

Blythe wiped some juice off her chin with a napkin. “Okay. But you’re going to have to make it quick. Especially with Holden and Allen there…”

I gave her a squeeze. “Thanks, Bly.”

#

The library was a modern brick building, near the edge of town. A pretty basket of petunias hung over the small covered entrance. It wasn’t hard to find Helen. She was at the help desk, showing a little girl where to sign the back of her brand-new library card.

I couldn’t help smiling at the look on that kid’s face. It reminded me of Blythe when she was little. My cheerleader sister was also a book fiend.

“Brenna!” Helen said in her faint German accent. “How are you doing? Glad this heatwave is over, yes?”
 

“Definitely.” I dropped my voice to whisper. “I was wondering if I could talk to about something…confidential.”

Helen adjusted her round, wire-rimmed glasses. “Why don’t we go back to my office?”

“Sure.”

I followed Helen through a doorway behind the help desk, into the back room. A young man pulling books from the book drop box glanced up and gave me a tight smile.

Helen’s office was small and neat. There was an ancient poster on her wall, of a cute kitten hanging on by its claws.
Hang in there,
it said.

Helen caught me looking at it. “It was here when I moved into the office.” She shrugged. “I like it.”

I smiled. “That’s me, especially this summer.” Was Helen barely hanging on, too? She always seemed so calm, so rational. But we all had our hidden lives. Our dreams. Our disappointments.

Helen shut the door and sat on the edge of her desk. “So, what do you need to talk about, Brenna?”

“The
Bonney Bay Blaster
.”

Helen perked up. “Are you interested in writing for the paper?”
 

“Oh, no. Well, I mean I haven’t really thought about it. Maybe. But that’s not what this is about. I think you have some information. Information you probably just got last night, about the death of Millie Brown.”

“Yes,” Helen said cautiously, “I was up pretty late last night working on a story about that. All I have to do is polish it up and publish it online this afternoon.”

“I have reason to believe the information you got isn’t accurate.”

“Brenna, I don’t know what you think I have, but I assure you, I got it from a reliable source.”

“A source that will be proven wrong within the next couple of days.”

Helen crossed her slender arms. “Really?”

“Yes.” Maybe if I said it strongly enough, it would come true. “I know you don’t want to ruin an innocent person’s future. And this person you’re going to be implicating has something very important coming up. Something that will be lost if that story breaks. Please, Helen. Just wait until after the Fifth.”

Helen picked up an odd-shaped ceramic blob from her desk and shifted it from hand to hand. It was glazed in greens and blues. She seemed deep in thought.

“Helen, it’s what’s best for everyone. For everyone who wants to know the truth, for Millie’s family, for the
Blaster’s
reputation.”