Chapter Five

After making sure everything was ready at the shop, and with a promise from Maria that she’d watch the register and George Clooney, I headed to the courthouse.

But the hearing was over, and Shannon was in the hallway with several friends and guys in suits.

“What happened?” I glanced down at my watch. “I thought it was at eight thirty?” It was only a quarter past the hour.

Shannon swallowed hard. “They were running early—I barely made it here. And the bail is set at a quarter of a million.”

Yikes. Even if she put her shop up, it wouldn’t be enough collateral.

“What can I do to help? We could do a fund-raiser or something.”

She took my arm and pulled me to the side, away from everyone. “I had a chance to talk to him. He doesn’t want me to risk my business. It’s only a risk if he runs away and I know he’s not going to do that. But it’s weird. He says he’s okay in the county lockup. That it’s not that bad.”

“That’s so wrong in a hundred different ways,” I said. “It sounds like he’s trying to be brave. He’s not a flight risk, and that seems like a lot. What did the lawyer say? Maybe we should get a better one?”

Shannon shook her head. “Michael’s dad sent him. He’s some big fancy criminal lawyer. His father offered to put up the bail, but Michael’s not going for it. He’s not happy about the lawyer but there isn’t anyone better. It’s so weird. It’s like he feels he deserves to be in jail.” Shannon pushed her long hair off her face. “Can you try to talk some sense into him? Meanwhile, I’m going to talk to the bail bondsman and see what I can do. The idea of him spending one more night in there—I just can’t take it.”

I didn’t know Michael didn’t get along with his father. My brother had trouble with our dad, as well. Never felt like he was good enough. Dad hadn’t been happy when neither of us went into the family business of making furniture, but my brother probably did get the worst of that.

The last thing our father wanted was for Greg to be a cop. Too dangerous. Making furniture was safe, certain and prone to, well, less death.

“I don’t know if they’ll let me see him since I’m not his lawyer or his fiancée.”

“I put you on his list of visitors. He was allowed five in addition to his lawyer and me. See what you can find out from that brother of yours. I’m willing to risk my coffee shop or do whatever it takes to prove his innocence. People listen to you, Ainsley—please. They trust you and look up to you.”

I hugged her. “I’m here for you,” I said. “But I’m not a detective and I’m not sure what I can do.”

“Just talk to him, please. If nothing else, convince him to take the offer for the bail or let me do it. I may do it without his permission anyway.”

It’s very hard to tell Shannon no when she really wants something. “Okay.” Everything I knew about posting bail came from reading the Stephanie Plum books by Janet Evanovich. But I’d promised my friend I’d try, so I headed out to see if I could talk to Michael.

Twenty minutes later, I was escorted into a blah, grayish-green room that had two tables and some chairs at the police station. I expected Michael to show up in a jumpsuit and handcuffs, but he wore jeans and a clean blue button-down. His hair was neatly combed but he had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept for years.

“Ainsley?” He obviously hadn’t been expecting me.

“Hey, how are you? I mean, given the circumstances.” Dumb question, Ainsley.

He shrugged as he sat down across from me. “Did Shannon send you?”

“I actually came by last night, but they wouldn’t let me see you.” Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. I’d stormed out to avoid questions, but I had originally come to check on Michael.

“Oh. Thanks. Is Shannon okay? She kept it together at the courthouse, but I could tell she’d been crying. I feel so bad for her—this has to be so embarrassing. Man, that she’s been drawn into all this crazy is just killing me.”

“Then why won’t you take the offer to pay for your bail?”

He crossed his arms and leaned back in the metal chair. “If I let my parents help me out, it comes with strings. Shannon doesn’t get that. She hasn’t met them yet, and there’s a reason for that. I don’t want them to taint my relationship with her. And no way I’m letting her put the shop up as collateral.

“I keep hoping your brother will find something that gets me out of here. It’s nuts that they even think I’m a suspect. Did you know he was killed with a wine bottle? One of mine? How dumb would I have to be to use that as a weapon, and of course it has my fingerprints all over it.”

I pursed my lips. It didn’t make sense. Sure, that detective might be out to make her career, but my brother was brilliant. I’d never tell him that, of course.

“Run me through what happened, after you left Dooley’s. He says hello, by the way.”

Michael smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes, though.

“Dooley’s a good guy. I had dinner with Rick. The guy—I’m not going to lie. He’s a jerk. In the emails he’d been so positive and had even given me some creative ideas about temporary fixes to help the winery out. He and his wife had moved to Gruene. He’s been helping to launch some of the new wineries there.

“I should have known he was too good to be true. As soon as I met him face-to-face, there was a smarmy evilness to him. Never got such a bad vibe off of someone so fast. Do you know what I mean? Like you can see he’s evil to the core?”

I nodded.

“I thanked him for coming out to the winery, but said that I’d decided to go a different way, which in my head, was any way that didn’t include him or the company he worked for. He was mad. Cussed me out right then and again at Bless Your Art. But later he texted and asked that I meet him at Dooley’s for dinner. Said he wanted to part on good terms.

“I should have said, no. But I went to the dinner. Everything was fine until we started talking about the business again. He lost his temper and created a scene in front of everyone. But it wasn’t just me he was mad at. I could tell he was agitated about something else—he was just taking his temper out on me. I was about to get up and leave, when he screamed some obscenities and left.”

I leaned my elbows on the table. “Were you mad?”

Shaking his head, he turned to look out the only window in the room. Everyone in the police station was staring at him, and then they all turned away quickly pretending to work.

Michael rubbed his temple with his hand. “More embarrassed than anything,” he said. “I finished my food—you know I’m not leaving Dooley’s food on the table no matter what happened. Anyway, about five minutes later I went home. I remember thinking it was weird the light was on in the barn. We try to keep things pretty green, and don’t waste electricity. I didn’t remember leaving it on but maybe I did. I’d been counting cases right before I left for the dinner. We had about a hundred headed to a party in Austin. But I was there alone all night.”

I believed him and there was no way it was just the wine bottle that had him behind bars. The police had to have a lot more than that. Even I knew that was circumstantial. I needed to talk to my brother.

“Is there anything I can get for you? Anything you need?”

“Nah. Just look after the booth? Ask Don if he can open up the samples. Oh, and keep an eye on the teens who come in. I caught a few that first day trying to scam some free samples of the wine from me.”

I stood up. As I did, one of the officers opened the door. “You take care, Michael. Don’t worry. We’ll get this sorted.”

He and the officer headed down the long hallway. “Thanks,” he said.

I wasn’t sure what to do next, but I had to talk to my brother. The murder weapon was way too obvious. Easily traceable. I needed to figure out where the bottle had been lifted—the winery, the booth, or from Michael’s house? Because it should be so easy to trace, Greg definitely had to have something else to arrest and charge Michael with.

Without asking for permission, I headed to my brother’s office. It was locked and even with the blinds pulled, I could see the light was off. Just as well, as I needed to get to the shop.

I’d just stepped outside of the station when I heard the blood-curdling scream.

Running around to the side of the courthouse I found two women yelling at one another. One was tall with dark hair in a bun. She wore a green dress that was straight out of the Jackie O era. The other one was much younger in tight jeans and a rock band T-shirt. But it was hard to see their features as they circled one another in a threatening way.

I was about to run back to the station to grab someone, when my brother came jogging around the corner with several cups of coffee in one of those containers that hold multiple. I was surprised Shannon had served him. He put the coffee on the edge of the stone ledge leading down to the basement where the coroner’s office and the morgue were.

“Stop!” He gave them his best I’m Mr. Officer of the Law and you better shut it voice.

They paused, as did I. Never in my life had I heard him sound so scary. The door down to the basement opened and shut. Idris Elba walked out. Okay, so Kane is not Idris Elba, but they could be twins. He’s the coroner and I’ve been at some of the barbeques my brother throws with him, and Jake. They’re my brother’s best friends, and they’re a handsome lot. If a girl was interested in that sort of thing.

Me, not so much. At least, not yet. I still wasn’t over my last disastrous relationship. Eddy, my giraffe tattoo, was a visual reminder of what happened when I stuck my neck out for people—so it was doubly crazy that I was running around town trying to solve Rick’s murder and free Michael.

“I told them to take it outside,” Kane said. “I had no idea it would escalate like this.”

“You,” my brother ordered pointing to the younger of the two women, “stand over there.” She moved a few feet in front of me on the sidewalk. “You,” he ordered the older one, “stand by Kane. And then tell me what this is about.”

“I came to identify the body,” the woman said. “I’m Rachel Dean and Rick is—I mean, was my husband.”

“At least, that’s what she keeps saying,” said the younger woman. “I’m Caroline Dean, and I’m his wife. She’s lying. I don’t know why.”

Ohhhh. I was starting to get the picture and I had a feeling this story was about to get way more interesting. A crowd started to gather on the street, and my brother’s eyebrows drew together. “Kane, will you help me escort these two women to my office?”

The women started to protest but he held up a hand. “One more word, and grieving widows or not, I’ll arrest you for disturbing the peace.” That seemed to mollify them. They followed Kane around the corner.

I was about to follow. This was most certainly an interesting development in the case.

“Ainsley, what are you doing here?” my brother asked as he picked up the container with the coffee.

“I was talking to Michael. I can’t believe that guy was married to two women at the same time. Surely that’s more motive than anything Michael might have.”

His brows drew even deeper together. “There’s a line of people waiting outside your store. Maybe you should mind your business, and let the police handle the case.”

I was about to protest but I knew that look.

“You don’t have to be so rude,” I said through gritted teeth.

His eyebrow went up.

Whatever. There’d be no talking to him right now. Besides, he had his hands busy with those widows. But even if I had to show up at his house with a lasagna, made from our mother’s recipe, he was going to talk to me. Actually, that wasn’t such a bad idea.

I turned the corner to find that he hadn’t lied. There was a line of at least thirty people waiting to get inside. I backtracked and went around the park side of the building on Main Street, so I could go in the back entrance.

Every time I walked into my store, a sense of pride welled within me. It was so much more than I’d ever dreamed. Even with all the crazy, the sense that I’d done the right thing going after my dreams was there.

As I made my way through the booths, Mrs. Whedon called out, “What did you find out? We can do one of those kickstand things to raise money if we need to—or a bake sale.” Pretty sure she meant kick starter but no way was I telling her. Today the older woman wore her signature green, but in a caftan studded with diamonds, along with some very sensible sneakers in her favorite color.

Everyone who was in the store gathered around. I explained what happened and why he didn’t want the bail quite yet. Then I told them about the two women and the disaster on the sidewalk.

“Well, just goes to show that guy wasn’t the best,” Don said. “Seems to me those women have more reason to kill him than anyone else.”

“I agree. But they arrested Michael because of the evidence, more than just the wine bottle.”

“What did you find out from your brother?” Maria asked.

“Nothing. He was busy with those women. But I’m going to try and talk to him later.”

“We should do a murder board like on Death in Paradise,” Maria said. “I think I may have an old one out in my garage that the kids used.”

We all stared at her blankly.

“What?” she asked.

“What is Death in Paradise?” Mrs. Whedon asked.

“It’s a British mystery show set on a Caribbean island,” Maria said. “I’d live there if it wasn’t a fake island, I didn’t have five kids and it wasn’t filled with super sophisticated murderers. Like, every episode is some elaborate murder. Anyway, at the police station, they have a whiteboard where they put up the pictures and clues they find. We could do that. Set it up in the break room or one of the classrooms upstairs. And then if one of us hears something we can write it down.”

It wasn’t a bad idea and might help me keep things straight in my head.

“I agree,” I said, “with one condition. That we keep all of this to ourselves. If my brother got wind of us trying to help—well, I’d rather not find out what he’d do. So, this is just between us, right?”

Everyone agreed.

Of course, I shouldn’t have been surprised when two hours later, Ms. Helen and her troop of women showed up demanding to see the murder board.

I sighed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. So much for secrets in this place.

“Erma overheard Don and Mrs. Whedon talking about who they were going to put on the murder board as suspects. We have some ideas of our own. There’s no use trying to pretend you don’t know what we’re talking about. I’m telling you, we can help.” She glanced around to see if anyone was listening, and then lowered her voice. “Let’s discuss it tonight at the book club.”

Oh, heck. I’d forgotten about the book club. So much for using lasagna to pry secrets from my brother tonight.

“Okay but let’s keep it quiet. I’ll tell you what I told the others. If my brother finds out, I’ll be in big trouble. We all will.”

This was going to go all kinds of wrong. I could feel it.