Chapter Four

A few minutes later, I stared out the window of the store as the last of the police cars pulled away. Shannon was sobbing on the other end of the line. I let her cry because I wasn’t sure what else to do. Eventually, the crying turned to a whimper.

“Ainsley,” she said, “please talk to your brother. He’ll listen to you. Find out what’s going on for me.”

I was the last person my brother would listen to given his need to be impartial and unbiased on this case, but I wasn’t telling her that. “Absolutely. You just hang tight. Well, maybe find him a lawyer.” We hung up.

When I turned around to the front counter, I found the vendors had circled around and stared at me expectantly.

“She didn’t take the news well,” I said, not sure what they wanted me to say.

“Of course, she didn’t,” Maria said.

“Someone should make certain she’s all right,” said Mrs. Whedon. “Shannon shouldn’t be alone. And we need to let Michael’s family know. They’re going to be devastated. He shows up every Sunday morning like clockwork to make them breakfast.”

“I’ll help with Shannon. My husband has the kids for at least another hour,” Maria said.

“I’ll call his parents,” Pete, who ran a booth with medieval items he made for Renaissance fairs and people who were fond of the time period, said. “I go to church with them. And I sometimes play poker with his dad Cliff on Friday nights.”

“We’ll go with Maria and check on Shannon. We’ll take her some of the food people brought in today,” Cari said. She and her son had a booth that carried all of Cari’s jams, and just about anything that could be pickled.

“The rest of us will sweep up and get things ready for tomorrow,” Don said. He had a booth with wooden animals he carved. “Ainsley, you need to go talk some sense into your brother. You know Rick had a lot of enemies and Michael wasn’t one of them.”

“So, none of you believe he did it, either?” Okay, it wasn’t my brightest moment, but they seemed as certain of Michael’s innocence as me. And they had all known Michael since he was born.

“No,” they said in unison.

I smiled, a real one for the first time since I’d seen the body. “Cari, you have the other set of keys. Can you give those to Don? I’m going to the station. You guys are right. Obviously, they have all of this terribly wrong. Don you’ll be all right?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll lock up and turn off the lights,” he said. He looked like Santa Claus and had the disposition of the jolly old elf, which was why many of the children in town were always very good around him.

I was about to step out the door, when there was a strange sound from behind the counter. “Oh. George. Um, I guess you’re coming with me.” He stood up as if he understood exactly what I’d said.

I didn’t trust myself to drive, and it was only two blocks to the station. George needed a stretch and—to be honest—I didn’t know what I was going to say when I got there. I needed some time to clear my head. My brother would be angry if I tried to meddle, but he needed to know the additional information about Rick and other possible motives. I walked the two blocks and went around the back of the courthouse where the police station was.

When I opened the door, the place was busier than I’d ever seen it. The officers bustled in and out of offices. It reminded me of a scene from Alice in Wonderland with the White Rabbit running around. Nothing ever happened in this town. Most of the time the people working here were playing solitaire or poker on their computers.

“Evening, Ainsley. How are you?” Kevin, who was working the front desk, asked. I had a feeling he was the Kevin Erma had mentioned earlier today. “Do you need to talk to the sheriff?”

“Yes,” I said. “Is it okay for me to go back?”

Kevin shook his head. “He’s got someone in the office right now. They’re doing an interview. You’ll have to wait until he’s done, or I can give him a message.”

“I’ll wait. Who is he with?” I leaned my head to the right, but the blinds were closed in Greg’s office.

“Dooley’s in there right now. But it’s been one right after another all day,” Kevin said. “It’s not looking good for Michael.”

Kevin was one of the guys on Michael’s flag football team, along with my brother, Jake, Kane, who was the local coroner, and a couple of other guys from the station.

“They have the wrong man,” I said. George grunted beside me.

Kevin shrugged. “Sometimes people do things they don’t mean to. Sometimes they do it on purpose. But like I said, it’s not looking good.”

“Even you’re turning against him?”

Michael had been friends with these guys. How could they turn on him so quickly? And weren’t people supposed to be innocent until proven guilty?

“Can’t talk about the case but the evidence is there.” The phone rang. “I don’t know how long he’ll be, but you can wait on the bench over there.” Kevin pointed to the small lobby area.

I sat down with George and tried to gather my thoughts. But my mind wouldn’t settle. Flashes of the day whirled through my head like a tornado on a path of destruction. Maybe I was still in shock.

I went over the facts. There was no way Michael killed anyone. Sure, a wine bottle had been involved, but Michael was a winemaker, so his fingerprints could definitely be on many bottles all over town. I needed to find out what they thought the motive was. If the police were going to railroad a perfectly innocent man, someone had to be looking out for him and bring in the right suspect.

I was so lost in my thoughts that it took me a minute to realize someone was talking to me.

“You okay, Ains?”

I glanced up to find my brother staring down at me. Dooley, who owned one of the diners on the town square, waved as he walked past, and I waved back. I wonder what he’d said to my brother.

“Uh. Yes.”

“Did you have something you wanted to add to your statement?”

“My statement? No. I wanted to check on Michael. Have you let him go yet? Did you get it sorted?”

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. “It doesn’t work like that, Ainsley. He had motive and opportunity, and we have evidence that puts him at the scene.”

“But.”

“Miss McGregor.” Lucy the detective from the day before came up to stand next to my brother. “You were working early yesterday at your shop, correct?”

“Yes,” I said wondering what that had to do with anything.

“Did you see Mr. Caldwell arguing with the victim?”

Oh. No. Why did I come here? I couldn’t lie but no way was I telling them exactly what I’d seen. “Um.” I pursed my lips. “I saw a lot of people that day. He could have been.”

That was the truth at least.

“The sheriff tells me you have a good memory when it comes to events and things. Are you sure you didn’t hear what they were discussing?” Lucy crossed her arms and gave me that look like she knew I was evading her question.

“I was more interested in getting my store ready to open,” I said.

That was also true.

“Could you answer the question directly please?”

The room was quiet, and everyone stared at me. There was no way I’d ever contribute to Michael’s troubles and the truth about what I heard and saw might do exactly that. I’d tell my brother soon, but for right now I was done.

“If this is official, shouldn’t we be in a room where there aren’t so many ears? It’s no wonder half the town seems to know more about this than you do.” I waved a hand toward her and my brother.

Maybe it was mean, but I needed a distraction. I was most definitely going to evade her questions for as long as possible. “I’m not sure I appreciate how you’re conducting this investigation. I’d hate to have to file a formal complaint, Detective, because you fail to have the common decency to do this sort of thing privately. But it doesn’t matter. I didn’t come down here to be questioned. I’m tired. I wanted to make sure my friend was all right. End of story. If you want to talk to me again, you know where I live.”

I gave my brother a harsh look. How dare he let her ambush me like that. “And you—” I pointed at him “—should be ashamed of yourself.”

I was going to regret that later, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t believe how quickly these people had turned against their friend.

“Come on, George.” He followed me out of the station.

Maybe my brother wouldn’t listen to reason but there was no way I would allow an innocent man to go to prison.

And I would not allow some detective who was trying to prove herself help send him there. First, I had to talk to the diner owner, Dooley. Whatever he’d told the police had helped put poor Michael in a cell.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “Hey, Dooley, I need a to-go order.”

A few minutes later, I waited at the takeout window that faced Main Street. To my right was the door where patrons could go in to eat at the fifties-style diner with its red and white leather seats and Formica tables. He was known for some of the best burgers and fried chicken in Texas.

If it were a couple of hours earlier, there might be a line around the block of people waiting for either the window or to go inside.

“Hey, Red, what’s up?” Dooley asked as he slid the window open.

“Hi, I’m surprised you’re working the window.” I figured I’d have to ask for him, as he was usually in the back managing the busy kitchen.

He shrugged. “It’s late, so we’re slow. I sent some of the staff home when I got back. Your order should be up in a few.” He started to slide the window back.

I waved a hand. “I—uh, is there any chance you could tell me what the police were asking you? Was it about Michael? And before you call me nosy and tell me to butt out, I promised Shannon I’d find out whatever I could and my brother is being a—well, not so forthcoming.”

He was a big man, round and arms the size of fire hydrants. He told me once his friends called him Dooley because he was built like one of those giant trucks and he was kind of loud, even when trying to whisper. He smirked and then nodded. “I feel sorry for Shannon and Michael. I don’t think he did this, but they seem convinced.”

“So, what did you tell them?”

“They wanted to know about an argument that happened in the diner last night. Michael had met the guy for dinner. They’d been talking business and things got a bit heated. I came out from the back and told them to calm down. Michael apologized but the other guy stood up like he was going to punch me or something. Made some not-so-nice comments about my food. Then he told Michael he’d be sorry. No way he’d survive without him. Then he left.”

Weird. What did all of that mean?

“What did Michael do after that?”

“He just sat there for a few minutes and then left cash on table for his bill.”

I had no idea when the murder had occurred, but the timeline didn’t sound so great for my friend. If they argued and he followed him out, that couldn’t be good.

After picking up the food, I headed over to Shannon’s apartment above the coffee shop. She had the second floor for her living space, and a rooftop terrace. That’s where I found her curled up in one of her lawn chairs with a glass of wine.

Her face blotchy from crying, she sat up straighter when George and I made it up the stairs. “I thought Maria or someone would be here with you,” I said.

She shook her head. “I sent them all home. I can’t believe this, Ainsley. Tell me you found something out.”

I pursed my lips.

“That bad?” She sighed. “You know he had nothing to do with this, right?”

“I do. No matter how mad someone might make him, he would never hurt anyone. Dooley told me that Michael and the victim had dinner at Dooley’s last night. Were they doing business?”

She took her long hair out of the messy ponytail and then redid it. “They were talking about it. This is just so messed up.” She started to cry again. George put his head in her lap, which made her smile a bit.

“It’s going to be okay.” I mean, I really hoped so. But, like she said, things were definitely messed up. I scooted next to her on the big wooden chair and wrapped my arms around her.

“They wouldn’t let me see him,” she said. “I tried. They said there is a bail hearing in the morning. I talked to the bail bondsmen. I can put my store up for collateral.”

I squeezed her tight. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Help me sort this out so I can go to my brother with facts. Where were you last night? You two are usually joined at the hip.”

“Oh, Ains, if only I’d been where I was supposed to be none of this would have happened.” She pulled away and reached for a tissue. “I was supposed to be at that dinner at Dooley’s. But—”

“What?” I turned to face her.

“That slime ball, and yes I know it’s awful to speak ill of the dead, made a pass at me.”

“That’s awful. What did you do?”

“I yelled at him. He’s married. I mean, what a creeper. And hello?” She pointed to her ring. “Newly engaged. He was not a nice person and Michael figured that out about ten minutes into their first conversation. They’d been emailing for months about Rick’s company helping Michael to expand his wine. They’d promised national distribution for him.

“I feel so bad because Michael was so excited—until they met face-to-face. He knew, instantly, that this guy was not above board. But he couldn’t get rid of him. As in, actually told him at least three times he was no longer interested but the guy wouldn’t back off.

“After I told him what he could do with his so-called plan and I wondered what his wife might think about his asking me out, he left. Well, you saw him at the coffee shop. Creeper. Did I say that already?”

“Can’t say I disagree. Did Michael know that he hit on you?”

She wrung her hands together. “I didn’t say anything to him. It would just upset him, and he was already so stressed.”

Well, that would have made for good motive, though. I was serious when I promised her that I knew there was no way Michael had killed anyone. Maybe punched the guy in the face, but murder—no way.

“Is the winery okay?”

She blew out a big breath. “Yes and no. It’s solvent but just barely. He expanded a bit too quickly and lately there’s been one big expense after another. That’s why he’d been reaching out to see if someone wanted to invest a little or help get the wine some national visibility. There were quite a few people interested but after all this insanity they’re probably running for the hills. Michael is a wonderful guy and this winery is everything to him. It will crush him if it goes under.”

Killing someone definitely wouldn’t be good for business. “Well, we just need a plan.”

Shannon raised her eyes to the heavens. “Ainsley, not everything is about having plans. This isn’t your business where you have to figure out all contingencies. We just need to get your brother to have a bit of common sense. He’s known Michael for as long as he’s lived here, he knows he didn’t do it.”

“You’re under a lot of stress, so I’m going to ignore your dig about me making plans. But that’s exactly what we need. First, and you and I have watched enough detective shows to understand this, we need to find out who else might have wanted Rick dead, right?”

She nodded.

“The police feel like they have solid evidence against Michael. So, we have to show them they’re wrong.”

George seemed to grunt in agreement.

“You’re a very good friend,” Shannon said and then sniffled again.

“I am, which is why I brought that Cuban sandwich you like so much from Dooley’s.”

“Oh, Ains, I don’t know if I can eat.”

Some people couldn’t eat when stressed; I’m the opposite. “And some bourbon pecan pie.”

Shannon gave me a weak smile. “Oh. That maybe I could eat. It’s like you know me.”

I did—better than just about everyone in town, except for her brother. That’s why I was going to do everything in my power to find out what happened to Rick.

And the first place I was going to start was at the hearing bright and early in the morning.