Home Sweet Murder Page 4

  “Yeah, and it’s not a death trap anymore,” he quipped, making her laugh. “You should come check it out sometime,” he offered, bending down to pet his boisterous dog.

  “I’d like that,” she said, nodding her head.

  "Great, just come on over and ask for me at the ticket booth. I'll give you a private tour." He straightened up and let his dog run ahead excitedly.

  “Thanks, I’ll do that,” she said, waving as he started to leave. Matty stirred beside her, looking sullen. Jason smiled mischievously before waving cheerfully.

  “Oh, and say hi to Sutton for me,” he called to Matty, causing him to stiffen. He shook his head and walked ahead, leaving Allegra to wonder what had just happened.

  Chapter Five

  “So, just to recap,” Greta said ominously, "we have no will and no suspects." The group sat in the back room of the newspaper's office, where Greta had changed the room from a break room into a murder-solving room. They had several multicolored beanbags, an ancient microwave, a new mini-fridge and a whiteboard at their disposal.

  “And no murder,” Allegra pointed out, sipping from one of Eric’s juice boxes.

  Greta waved that fact away and picked up the whiteboard marker. “Right, we need to look at this objectively,” she announced. Eric nodded along somberly and grabbed a pretzel stick from the coffee table. She turned back to the board and wrote ‘suspects’ in big capital letters.

  “Don’t write Ashlee’s name,” Allegra cautioned. Greta pulled back her hand and pouted in Allegra’s direction. Allegra shook her head sternly and Greta sighed before falling down onto one of the beanbags like a child.

  “You know what?” Greta asked, her voice muffled by the material of the beanbag.

  “What?”

  “We need to start from the beginning, get a recap. When was the last time you saw Grumpy Dot?”

  “Ten years ago,” Allegra said tiredly, rubbing her eyes. She had gone out for dinner when a surly Matty had dropped her off the night before. The entire situation was weighing heavily on her mind and she had been unable to sleep for hours. Matty assured her that they would get to the autopsy soon and the truth would be revealed. In the meantime, her mind raced with a thousand different scenarios of what would happen if it turned out that Grumpy Dot had really died from natural circumstances. But the alternative, a world where Dot was murdered, seemed a lot more terrifying.

  “I remember that summer,” Greta said faintly. Allegra grimaced and started playing on her phone, knowing what would happen next. "You never said goodbye," Greta accused, giving her a stern look. Eric looked at the two of them in curiosity. Allegra looked down at her phone guiltily, but Greta kept staring at her with that stern look.

  “Was it because of what happened?” Greta asked, referring to something the group did the weekend before she left. Allegra shook her head, although that was part of the reason she had left. “Why did you leave? One second you were there, and the next you were gone. Dot was very sad about it for a long time. We waited for you the next summer, but you never came.” Allegra sighed and put down her phone, knowing that the issue could not be avoided any longer.

  "Greta," she began but trailed off. She did not know where to begin or what to say. Greta looked at her expectantly, the old hurt plain in her eyes. Allegra winced and cleared her throat. "The truth is…"

  “Knock, knock!” an obnoxious voice called before barging into the break room. The occupants turned to glare at the intruder, although Allegra felt more relief than annoyance, knowing that he had just won her some precious time. She needed to get her thoughts in order before she brought up that old mess again.

  Jason Ramirez walked into the room like he owned the place, and if his suit was anything to go by, he probably did.

  “What are we doing?” he asked curiously, helping himself to a juice box and a handful of pretzel sticks. Greta huffed and glared at him, refusing to answer. Allegra looked away, unsure how to answer her old friend.

  “We’re solving a murder!” Eric piped up proudly.

  “Whose murder?” he asked, looking bewildered.

  “Oh,” Greta sounded sarcastically, “who do we know who died recently? Oh, who could it be?”

  “No need to take that tone with me,” Jason teased, smiling at his friend. Greta scoffed and turned her back to him in annoyance. “I thought they said Grumpy Dot died of natural causes?”

  “You thought wrong,” Greta answered scathingly. “Allegra thought it sounded strange, so she demanded they do an autopsy.”

  "Allegra?" Jason asked thoughtfully, looking at her. "What, did you smell trouble?"

  “You know me,” Allegra said uncomfortably, “always sticking my nose in other people’s business.” Jason let out a laugh and Greta chucked a pretzel his way, giving him a warning glance.

  “Good old Gypsy,” he said fondly. “Reminds me of all those times we chased imaginary murderers and kidnappers.”

  “One of them turned out to be real,” Allegra pointed out, smiling fondly at the memory. “And you can’t deny we had fun.”

  “What did you do?” Eric asked, joining his mother on the beanbag, causing her to almost lose her balance. Jason and Allegra shared a look, not sure how much they should share with the little boy.

  “We were always looking for mysteries to solve,” Greta said dismissively. “We even solved a few cases.”

  “Wow,” Eric gasped in awe, “I can’t believe it.” Greta scoffed and slapped his shoulder playfully. He grinned at her and she stuck her tongue out at him, causing him to giggle.

  “We called ourselves the Gypsy Gang,” Jason reminisced, smiling at the scene. Allegra groaned and buried her face in her hands. “We were convinced that we were going to grow up to become private detectives.”

  “We only ‘solved’ cases of missing pets and half the time we were the cause of the trouble,” Allegra admitted sheepishly.

  “We did find Ellie,” Greta pointed out seriously.

  “What happened to Ms. Smith?” Eric asked worriedly. Allegra and Jason shared another worried look and wondered what they should say. They were unsure of how much information they were allowed to divulge to him. Greta seemed like she was okay with most things, but there was always a line that one was afraid to cross.

  “I’ll tell you some other time,” Greta said dismissively as Bud walked into the room. Eric frowned but nodded, obeying his mother.

  “What is it, honey?” Greta asked worriedly, looking at her husband. Bud was a few years older than her with greying hair at his temples. He was a bookish man with kind brown eyes who adored his wife and child. He was also known for being the forgetful bookworm and editor of the local newspaper.

  “I was just coming to enjoy a break in my break room,” he said, looking around mournfully, “but I do have some news.” He patted his pockets and looked around, a distressed look on his face.

  “Your glasses are on your desk, love,” Greta said without missing a beat. He looked up gratefully and smiled at her. “What is your news?” she asked before he could move toward the tiny kitchenette.

  "Oh yes," he mumbled, "the police officer called. They said it was urgent, Allegra." Everyone in the room got up and Allegra tried not to get her hopes up. Matty did say that it might take them weeks to get the autopsy results.

  The group walked out of the break room with an enthusiastic Eric walking behind them and a grateful Bud stayed behind to enjoy his midmorning cup of coffee.

  “We can take my car,” Jason offered, gesturing to his massive and expensive looking truck. He eyed Old George with distrust and glanced at Greta warily. Obviously, her reputation as a safe driver preceded her.

  “Nice try,” Greta called, shoving some art supplies into the back of the car to make room for passengers. Allegra said a quick prayer before getting into the passenger seat. She was amused to see Jason do the same, except he added an emphatic pleading glance toward the sky, much to Greta’s annoyance.

  “If you’re going
to join us, you better get in the car,” she threatened. He nodded contritely before hopping in the back with Eric. The boy looked overjoyed to be sitting next to the smartly dressed man and began to chat away about his action figures. Every now and then he would cast his chocolate brown eyes to the front and give Allegra a small smile and Greta a reassuring glance.

  The receptionist was very surprised when the four of them tumbled unceremoniously into her foyer. She was about fifty years old and a firm believer in box dye. She raised a carefully painted eyebrow before getting up to knock on the Chief’s door.

  “There you are,” Matty called out, smiling at Allegra. She turned to him and offered a nervous smile.

  “Are the autopsy results in?” she asked.

  “Hello to you too,” he quipped looking amused. He caught sight of Jason and his amused look vanished for a moment and Allegra gave him an unimpressed look. “Yes,” he gulped, smiling apologetically, “they’re here.”

  “And?” Greta asked breathlessly. Matty looked uncomfortable while Eric chattered on about his action figures to an aloof-looking Jason.

  “I can’t say,” Matty said, looking like he wished he wasn’t the messenger. “The Chief wants to talk to Allegra.” Greta opened her mouth to protest, but just then the receptionist walked up to the little group.

  “The Chief will see you right now,” she told Allegra, giving Greta a cool look. “Alone.”

  “I am going with,” Greta announced loudly, grabbing Allegra’s arm.

  “Actually,” Allegra said delicately, wincing as she tried to extricate herself from Greta’s grasp, “I think it would be easier if I did this alone.” Greta looked like she was about to protest, but everyone in the room gave her a severe look. She closed her mouth and nodded meekly. Allegra gave her a quick hug before walking into the enclosed office.

  Her first impression was that it looked different. When she had been there last, there had been less hunting memorabilia. The children in the family photographs had grown up, but the smell of leather and mint was still strong.

  “Chief,” she acknowledged, leaning over the big desk to shake his hand. Chief had been transferred from his position in Texas over twenty years ago, but the man still dressed like a cowboy. He maintained a bushy beard and was always chewing something. That, and he dressed like an actual cowboy despite the summer heat.

  “Ms. Allegra Mitchells,” he greeted in his deep Southern twang, ignoring her hand and pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. She squeaked uncomfortably, and he let her go. He patted her on the back fondly, “It is good to see you again.”

  "I wish it was under better circumstances," she said weakly, surprised by the warm reception. The Chief had always been a bit of a mystery to her. He was different from everyone in town and he always seemed amused by her antics, but he was very strict when she got caught.

  “Well, I knew when you caught the slightest whiff of trouble, you’d be down here in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” He leaned back in his chair and nodded at her, “I wasn’t wrong.”

  “That’s me,” she joked. “I’ve got a nose for trouble.”

  “Look, Allegra, I’m going to be straight with you. You have opened a can of worms, make no mistake. I am busy being phased out, and my replacement will be taking over this case. I cannot interfere, and it will get messy.”

  “What case?” she asked faintly. “Was I right? Was she murdered?”

  The Chief rubbed his jaw and nodded sadly. Allegra let out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding and felt a painful ache in her heart. She nodded sadly. She knew there was something strange about the whole mess.

  “Now, you need to pay attention to me, girly,” he said urgently, laying a protective hand over hers. “My deputy is not going to take it easy on you. He is one of those town-types.”

  She nodded along, not really understanding what he was telling her, but it seemed important, so she filed it away for later.

  “What killed her?” Allegra asked, clearing her throat. The Chief hesitated before looking down at the paperwork in front of him.

  “They say it was a poison, something called Xosyn Sirtunade.”

  Chapter Six

  The Llewes Cove Police Station was a small building. It had two floors and was one of the first buildings that the townsfolk built when the town was founded. Over the past hundred years, it had changed. There was electricity, a room for questioning and Internet. And that was it.

  Allegra sat in a tiny windowless room behind a fold-up table and shifted uncomfortably on the hard-plastic chair she had been assigned. The police station was unremarkable, but the amenities were remarkably bad. She stared at the cup of water she had been provided and wondered at the sudden turn of events that had brought her to this moment. Exactly one week ago she had been in a school in Jakarta teaching children how to speak English. Now she was waiting to be interrogated for her great-aunt’s murder. Life had a strange sense of humor.

  She looked up and caught sight of herself in the massive two-way mirror. She rolled her eyes. The overzealous deputy was behind that glass watching her right now. It seemed strange to her that the police department could not afford to install air conditioning in the room but had managed to pay for the tacky mirror. She looked at herself again and winced. The dark circles under her eyes marred her green eyes. She had not slept properly in days or given herself enough time to recover from her crippling jet lag. Her hair was limp, and she looked guilty of murder. Which was not how she wanted to look during her interrogation.

  Eventually the door opened, and a thin man, who looked around thirty-five, sauntered in. He slurped at the cup of coffee in his hands and concentrated on the forms in front of him. He sat down with a sigh, still not acknowledging her existence and began filling something out on the form. She leaned back from him, nearly choking on the smell of his after shave. He raised an eyebrow at her action and she rolled her eyes. He was trying very hard to make it look like this wasn’t his first interrogation. He was failing.

  “Ms. Mitchells,” he announced after what seemed like an eternity. She nodded and crossed her arms, wondering when she would be allowed to leave. “I just have to ask you a few routine questions,” he informed her.

  “Go ahead,” she said wearily, biting down a few sassy retorts. Antagonizing the man when he felt very important was probably not a good idea.

  “Thank you,” he smirked, letting his eyes linger on her for a second longer than necessary. “My name is Officer Crane, and I will be appointed Sheriff soon.”

  “It is nice to meet you,” she said drily, already forgetting his name.

  “Do you mind if I record this?” he asked, pressing record on his device anyway. She nodded, grimacing at the obsolete gesture as soon as her head stopped.

  “What was your connection with the deceased?” he asked ceremoniously.

  “She was my great-aunt,” Allegra explained, forcing herself not to roll her eyes again. It was all procedure, she reminded herself. The officer had a lot to prove since this was his first case, and she promised herself that she would not make it difficult for him.

  “And you arrived two days after Dorothy Collier died?”

  “That’s right,” she said uncomfortably. He nodded seriously and made a note on one of the papers in front of him. She fought the urge to crane her neck to see what he was writing. Obviously, he would not take too kindly to the action.

  “Are you familiar with Xosyn Sirtunade?” She shook her head and shrugged. The name meant nothing to her before Chief said it was the poison that killed Grumpy Dot. “I need a verbal response, please,” he informed her, tapping the device with his pen, giving her a forced smile in the process.

  “No,” she said loudly, leaning forward.

  “Interesting,” he mumbled.

  “What is it?”

  “Oh?” he asked innocently, “Don’t worry about it.” She frowned and leaned back again, feeling annoyed by the theatrics. If Chief hadn’t told her that this man
was born in the town, she would have guessed it for herself already.

  “Where were you on the tenth of July?” he asked. “The day of her death,” he clarified.

  “I was on a plane heading for the United States,” she explained tiredly, grimacing as she remembered the endless flight. There had been a baby aboard for some reason. The poor child didn’t stop crying from the moment the airplane left the ground. She didn’t want to seem judgmental, but the parents’ decision made no sense to her.

  “Did you have to cut your holiday short?” he asked curiously.

  “No, I lived there for about a year,” she explained, “I am an English teacher.” He nodded thoughtfully and made another note. She found that she was beginning to dislike his method of interrogation. It was boring, and he was taking his sweet time, relishing in the power afforded him.

  “Why did you come back?”

  “I wanted to surprise my great-aunt,” she explained, wondering what he had written in his file.

  "That's convenient," he commented, leaning forward. She gave him a strange look, feeling offended by his tone. "Did she know you were coming?" he raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. By this point, he was almost out of his seat.

  “No,” she ground out, hating the way he smiled at her as if he knew something she didn’t.

  “You like surprises?” he asked randomly.

  “It felt like a good idea, at the time,” Allegra answered, crossing her legs.

  “At the time?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Yes, before I knew she was dead,” Allegra snapped, feeling irritated. He nodded knowledgeably and wrote something in his file. “Are we done yet?” she asked impatiently, the scratching of his pen was irritating her ears. She also hadn’t eaten lunch, so she was feeling understandably moody. He looked up and gave her the same insincere smile as before, still writing in his file.

  “Do you have somewhere to be, Ms. Mitchells?”

  “Yes,” she answered, breathing deeply to calm herself down, “I have a funeral to plan.”

  “Oh?” he asked, looking surprised. “I heard Mrs. Mathers was putting that together.” Allegra’s mouth fell open and she clenched her fists. Of course. The original plan was to let Ashlee plan the funeral, but after she put that on hold, Ashlee got to work on planning a memorial service. She had been meaning to tell Ashlee to back off on the funeral arrangements, but with everything that was going on it had slipped her mind. To be honest, it was her fault, but she could not help feeling that Ashlee was being insensitive. That, and she disliked Ashlee anyway.