Chapter Eighteen

The next day, rain clouds were forming, so we decided to clean up the mess we’d made in the park. Kane and his friends had been bashing melons against various trees.

In all, we’d busted up about twenty melons, all the same size as the victim’s head. I kept trying to forget that part since it grossed me out every time the juice of the melons spurted out onto the tree.

He and his friends were hilarious to watch, and even though it was funny, they were being so methodical and scientific.

“So, what have you learned from today?” I asked Kane, but his friends were all there.

“I can’t—”

“Stop. Do not say you can’t discuss this with me. I’m using it for my research. Just tell me in general what you learned about this experiment.”

“Come on, Kane,” Lena said. “It’s not like she isn’t in the middle of all this. If someone did come after her, you need her to know as much information as possible.”

“It’s—I made your brother a promise,” Kane said.

I was about to say something mean when Lena punched his arm. Hard enough that Kane rubbed it with his hand.

Good for her.

“Well, I didn’t make that promise and couldn’t give a hoot about your bro codes,” Lena said. “Here’s what we figured out. Whoever pushed him the first time, had been at the top of the hill, and he probably stumbled backward a bit, and then they pushed him again, which is when he hit his head.”

“How do you know that?”

“Trajectory of the melons,” Lena said. “The majority of DNA was on the north side of the tree. That’s why we were using the pitching mechanism to throw the melons down. It’s tough because you don’t know the strength of the killer, so we had to try different pitch strengths. But these last four show that just about anyone could have shoved him hard enough to bust his head on that tree.”

“So, the list of suspects has grown. Because, I seem to remember my brother saying that the victim probably fell down, and that’s when he was hit over the head with the bottle.”

Kane gave me a shrewd look. Crud. Did I just out myself?

Oh. No. It wasn’t my brother who said that. It was when I’d been looking at Kane’s computer.

I leaned down to stuff the last of the broken melons into a trash bag and started walking back toward George, so that he couldn’t see my face. I’m obviously not the best at hiding things.

Or keeping your mouth shut.

“Right,” Lena said. “It could have even been two different people.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

“Professor, you’ve got to get to the Bar R, now.”

“Wait, who is this?”

“Sorry, ma’am. It’s Jeff from your English Lit class. I’ve been following the widow. You’ll never guess who she’s having drinks with.”

“First of all, I’m pretty sure I told you not to do that,” I said. If something happened to him, I’d never forgive myself.

“Yes, you did. But I was, um, bored this morning, so I decided to take a drive. I saw her pull out of the CVS on Broad Street, and then she kept going out of town, so I followed. It’s barely noon and I thought it was kind of weird she’d show up at a bar.”

“I’m not buying the boredom thing and what you’re doing is dangerous.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Stop calling me ma’am. And aren’t you a little young to be in a bar?”

“Yes, but I’m not in the bar. She met the mistress outside. They hugged, Professor. And I swear they’re acting like old friends. Unfortunately, I can’t go inside because I’m not twenty-one, which is why I need you to come. Now.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

I handed Kane the trash bag. “Um. I have an emergency.”

George grumbled beside me. Crud. “George, you’re going to have to be a good boy and sit in the car while I take care of something.”

“Where are you going? I thought you were heading out to lunch with us?” Kane asked.

“Something’s come up. Rain check. Okay?”

Then I did a sort of jog—who am I kidding—it was a fast walk. Thankfully, I wasn’t too far from my car at the back of the store.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the parking lot of the Bar R. I was getting out of the car when someone touched my shoulder. I turned, my fist ready to punch whoever was there, when Jeff threw up his hands.

“Sorry. Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

My breathing rapid, I forced myself to take a slow breath. “Never sneak up on a woman like that,” I said. “Always announce yourself.”

“Noted,” he said. “They’ve been in there, a while. What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea,” I said. “You watch George, I’ll be back in a minute. George.” I pointed to my dog. “Be a good boy and keep Jeff safe.”

Then I grabbed my purse and headed into the bar.

The place was clean and had a barbeque place on one side where they sliced up the meat so you could watch, and bar on the other side. I found the two women huddled together in a booth in the back corner. They were so engrossed in their conversation they didn’t even notice me.

“How much longer do you think it will take?” the mistress asked.

“No idea. I don’t know why they don’t just send that big clod to jail, already,” the wife answered.

I bit my lip to keep me from saying anything. That big clod was one of my best friends.

“I just want it to all be over so we can leave. We’ve been waiting on the Maldives for so long.”

“I know, Sissy. I know.”

Sissy? Wait a minute. How would my brother not know they were sisters? That was insane.

The waitress came up to take my drink order. I ordered a Bloody Mary that I didn’t plan to drink and sat there listening.

My brother, I had to tell him.

I was about to pull out my phone, when I sensed someone standing in front of my table.

“You’re that girl from the store,” the woman said. This one was the mistress—or at least the one who pretended to be.

I gave her my biggest smile. “I own Bless Your Art. Have you come in? I don’t remember, though we’ve been very busy the last few weeks.” Thanks to you and your sissy murdering her husband.

Oh. My. Was that true? My brain so just went there.

“Yes, I was in there getting some yarn from that—that woman who wears green. I’m taking up knitting.”

I’m talking knitting with a possible murderer. Wait. They had an alibi, but I couldn’t remember what it was.

“Oh, would you like to join me?” I motioned the seat across from me in the booth. “I’m thinking about taking knitting classes with Mrs. Whedon. She’s the one with the yarn booth.”

“She’s a funny old woman but she knows her yarn. My nerves have been all over the place, and the knitting helps. Thanks, but I’m here with my sister. Good luck with the knitting.”

She obviously didn’t remember I’d been on the street that morning when they’d been fighting.

Gross, if Rick Dean had been sleeping with the both of them, but I didn’t think it was the case.

They were up to something. Had they murdered him and now were pretending to be his mistress and wife?

None of this made sense.

They left not long after, and as much as I wanted to follow them, I decided it was best if I didn’t.

Besides, George had a limit on how long he could sit in a car.

I threw some bills on the table, alongside my untouched drink.

Outside, Jeff was in the car, his shirt drenched with George’s drool.

Served him right for snooping when I asked him not to.

Those two women might be murderers.

“What happened?”

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s take George for a walk and I’ll tell you.”

After yelling at him for doing the opposite of what I asked, I told him everything.

“I read a book where they used each other’s alibis to kill the other’s spouse,” Jeff said. “But both of these women had airtight alibis, right? We saw it on the board.”

I sighed. “Yes. But maybe they snuck out or something. All I know is I have to tell my brother. He definitely needs to know they’re related. The whole mistress thing makes no sense though. Why draw attention to yourself?”

“I—”

Screeching tires, and then a huge yank on George’s leash had me falling off the sidewalk and into the grass. It was a pile of legs, arms and dog.

The wind from the racing car whipped past us and I was so busy trying to make sure Jeff and George were both safe that I saw nothing but a black whir. Then I glanced up.

“Are you okay?”

Jeff had stumbled over George’s leash as he was picking himself off the ground.

“I think George just saved our lives,” Jeff said and then he stared down at the ground where the tire marks had dug in less than an inch from where we stood. “They were trying to kill us.”

The knot in my stomach pulled so tight, I coughed.

“Not us. Me.” Did the widow recognize me after all?

I pulled my phone out of my purse and called my brother.