Chapter Nine

Bleary-eyed the next morning, I threw my rain boots over my pajamas and went to investigate the acreage that butts up against the woods. Shannon had left hours before, and bless her, had put the coffee on.

Around three, I’d fallen asleep next to George Clooney. That dog snores so loud, but it was comforting in a way. We were up by seven and since he needed out anyway, I let him into the fenced backyard, while I checked the property line.

If there were animals, I didn’t want him chasing after them. I’ve never hoped so hard that it was some sort of creature making him nuts. It was quiet and chilly. I put the baseball bat I was carrying—it was the only thing close to a weapon I had—in the crook of my arm and zipped up my hoodie. Pulled the hood up over my ears.

I’d just reached the tree line when George barked. Maybe I screamed a little. Oh, and the best part? I dropped the bat on my toe. Yep, it was a very good thing I didn’t have a gun.

“Ouch.” I turned to tell George to hush when I saw him.

Jake, more handsome than any man had a right to be, was headed around the fenced area calling out a greeting to George who dutifully ran up to get a pat on the head. It was a chain-link fence and both George and Jake were very tall, so they had no problem with that.

“Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”

I was dressed in my favorite unicorn pajama bottoms, bright pink rain boots and aforementioned hoodie. No makeup. Thank goodness my hair was covered. I hadn’t bothered to look in a mirror, but rats’ nest, I’m fairly certain, was not the latest hairstyle in Vogue.

It didn’t matter. This guy was so out of my league.

“Your brother stopped at the coffee shop and said you guys had a problem last night. That you were worried someone was in the woods. He’s busy this morning with another case and asked if I could come check it out.”

I hadn’t texted my brother, so how did he know? Maybe Shannon told him? I’m sure she woke up with all the racket.

“Um. Well, George did go a little nuts. And a few days ago, same thing. He’s never done anything like that. Ever. But I’m sure it’s just an animal or something.”

He shrugged. “Well, I’m here. Let’s have a look.”

I followed him to the tree line.

“Did you see anything?”

“No. I mean, maybe it was my imagination, but it felt like something or someone was watching the house. But who would be out in these woods?”

“Well, they’re not supposed to be this close to rural areas with homes, but it could be hunters,” Jake said as he stooped down to look at something in the grass. “It’s deer season and we’ve had an overpopulation. Not my thing but we have a lot of hunters in the area. Still, they wouldn’t be out that late at night.”

Oh. No. Bambi scarred me for life. I couldn’t imagine anyone killing one of those sweet, docile animals. I squeezed my arms around my waist.

“I don’t like guns,” I said as if that resolved all the world’s problems.

“They have their place, but they aren’t for everyone. Your brother needs his for his job. Couldn’t pay me to be a cop these days.”

“Jake?”

He turned away from the trees to glance at me. “Yeah?”

“You run into burning buildings. That seems a whole lot scarier.”

He chuckled. “Point well made. But with fires, you have a general idea of what you’re running into. Being a cop, you never know when someone is going to come at you. And right now, your poor brother is understaffed. He’s been pulling double shifts for weeks.”

I had no idea. Maybe that’s why he’d been so cranky lately.

“I know you’re really busy, too, so thanks for coming out here at the crack of dawn.”

“Ainsley, you know I’d do anything for you and your brother.” He turned back to the woods.

My hand flew to my chest. And my brain went straight to anything?

Ainsley McGregor, stop that. First, he’s your brother’s best friend. Goes against the code.

Greg couldn’t date my friends and I couldn’t date his. We’d made that pact in puberty when I’d caught him giving Darla, my BFF at the time, the eyebrow. But that went both ways.

And Jake was so out of my league. Like I’m Little League, maybe a T-ball player, and he’s a pitcher in the majors.

That is the extent of my knowledge of sports.

I’m not a troll but his type was more homecoming queen and I fall along the lines of art nerd.

I absolutely, one hundred percent, could never think of Jake as anything more than a friend.

Right. Keeping telling yourself that. Sometimes my conscience was a pain.

“Huh,” he said.

“Is that a good huh or a bad one?”

He knelt down and took a picture of something on the ground. “There are definitely some footprints back here. But I have no idea when they were made.”

A chill skidded down my spine, straight to my hands, which I balled into fists to stop them from shaking.

“Oh?” I didn’t know what to say. Some stranger had been back here watching my house.

“It’s not a boot print. It’s sneakers, I can tell from the imprint of the sole. I’ll text it to your brother.”

“Why would they be out here?” It didn’t make sense. “I mean, I could see if it was hunters, maybe, but they don’t wear sneakers.”

“Probably just some kids running around. But it’s best to be sure. Do you have security in the house?” He was still on the ground and shadowed his face with his hand as he glanced up at me.

“No. I mean, we live in such a small town and everyone leaves their doors unlocked. I—” It’s dumb because I’d been living in Chicago for years before moving to Sweet River. And while Chi town is a wonderful place, it can be a dangerous one as well. No one knew that better than me. I’d been mugged twice. After the second time, my brother convinced me to move here the day after he checked me out of the hospital. I’d finished out the term. Given up my tenure, the youngest professor ever to have it in that department and moved back to Texas.

And I hadn’t regretted it until just now.

“Jake, you’re scaring me.”

He stood then and put a hand on my shoulder, the warmth of him seeping through the hoodie. “I don’t mean to. For the most part, Sweet River is one of the safest towns you’ll ever find. You heard what people said, it’s been years since we’ve had a murder. But it isn’t Mayfield. But we have a lot of tourists, and that’s an unknown element. You have to be careful. You’re a woman out here alone in the middle of the country. At the very least, you need a security system.”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose with my fingers. All of this was just too much. Murder and people watching my place. If that was what was happening. He’d said those prints could have been made any time.

No way I’d let my imagination run away and think the worst.

“You don’t like guns, but you might want to look into a stun gun. They have some very safe ones that are simple to use. And out here in the country, you might have to run off a coyote or two, so a BB gun might also be something to look in to. Usually the sound is enough to scare them. You don’t want George getting into a fight with one of those guys.”

I sighed. “I’ll talk to Greg and see what he thinks. Did you already send him the picture?”

He nodded.

“Great. I’ll be in for the ‘you’d be much better off in town’ speech. But I won’t do that to George.”

“I don’t blame you,” he said as he let go of my shoulder. “I’ve lived out here for more than ten years and never had any trouble. All of this is probably nothing. Don’t be scared. But maybe let’s look into getting you set up with some security and a way to protect yourself for the just in cases. At least some lights for out here, and a system for the house.”

I nodded.

George barked. “I better go feed him. That dog loves his routine. Breakfast at eight thirty every morning on the dot or there is hell to pay.”

Jake’s laugh sent a different kind of chill down my spine.

No, Ainsley. Bad girl. No.

“Okay. We’ll, I’m going to look around here a bit more. See you later.”

“Thanks,” I said as I waved goodbye.

Forty-five minutes later, I was at the station. Kevin was working the front desk again.

“Is my brother in?”

“He said for you and George to wait in his office. He’s out on a domestic dispute but says he’ll be back soon.”

George and I went into the office. As usual, the desk was piled high with file folders. The one with the murder case just happened to be open on his desk. The pictures on top were so gruesome but I couldn’t look away. It was weird. Part of me kept forgetting this was a real guy. This wasn’t a game or a murder in a book. He was a person with a wife and a mistress. Maybe he wasn’t the nicest dude in the world, but no one deserved to be murdered.

You shouldn’t look at the files.

But I really wanted to. In the worst sort of way.

I sat down across from his desk in one of the black chairs. After about two minutes, I couldn’t stand it. I mean, he knew I was coming by. Maybe he wanted me to see what was going on without witnessing it. Why else would he leave them out on the desk like that?

I started thumbing through them. I wished I hadn’t. The work the police had put into this made my little murder board seem useless.

I discovered the wine bottle used as the murder weapon was a Chardonnay. From the scene photo, I could tell that it didn’t have the price tag from Bless Your Art, so it was more likely to have come directly from the winery. And who had direct access to the winery’s inventory? Danny? Michael? Several workers, and possibly Shannon.

That said, there were notations in the file of the things I had told my brother. In fact, he’d already had someone checking into when the wife’s Maldives tickets were bought.

The mistress was another story. Evidently, he’d promised to take her back to Brazil where her family lived. She swore she had no idea that the victim had been married. That she believed they had a common law marriage. But there was a note in my brother’s handwriting that he didn’t believe her. There was no way the mistress could live in the town and have no idea he was married. And there was something fishy, as in she had very few details about the victim. She kept stating she was too distraught to think, but my brother had written in all caps: LYING.

Interesting.

She’d said he traveled a lot for business. There was a note that her alibi was exactly the same as the wife’s. Something felt off about that. Both women in crowded restaurants with lots of witnesses. One in Fredericksburg, which was a town just a bit west of Sweet River, and one in Round Top, which was a bit east.

My brother was right. That did feel off.

I was just about to peek at the autopsy report when I heard my brother’s voice. I took a quick picture with my phone of that and some of the other files and then sat down quickly.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?” He sat down behind his desk.

“Yes. So, skip the lecture.”

The wrinkles around his eyes were a little deeper than when I’d seen him on Saturday.

“Is everything all right?”

He shrugged. “Just a lot going on with the festival and people seem to be a bit jumpy these days.”

“Kevin said you had a domestic dispute. What was that about?”

He glanced up at the ceiling and then down at his desk. “It’s police business. You know I can’t discuss things like that with you.”

“Does it have anything to do with the case against Michael? If it does, I’d appreciate it if you told me. I mean, did what I told you the other night help?”

He frowned as if he knew I’d been snooping, but then he shrugged.

He sighed. “Fine. But we’re not going to make a habit of sharing details about a case, okay?”

“Since this is the only case I’m ever going to care about, deal.”

“And you’ll promise to tell me if you hear anything through the Ainsley McGregor network? I’ve been investigating some of those leads you gave me.”

I started to say, I know, but I checked myself. “Oh? Well good. Maybe something will help. I made a promise to Shannon to assist whatever way I could. And you know this town better than I do. People like to gossip, but there may be some truths in there.”

“Agreed.”

“So, what was the domestic dispute?”

“The mistress says she is pregnant. She showed up at the lawyer’s office when the wife was there, demanding half of the estate for her child. There was a bit of hair pulling and a lot of screaming. I threatened to bring them both in, and that seemed to cool them down.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Wow. If that’s not motive to kill someone, I don’t know what is.”

“Well, maybe if she’d killed the wife. But why kill him? The provider?”

I remembered his notes. “What if the wife or the mistress found out about the other?”

He frowned. “First thing we looked into. They both have airtight alibis with witnesses. And when Lucy told the wife about the mistress, I was watching. Her jaw dropped and there was so much anger.”

“Hmmm. I’d like to see Michael. I brought him some cinnamon rolls and coffee. I brought some for you, too.” I pointed to the cup and the small white bag on his desk.

“I can ask him, but it will have to be later. His fancy lawyer is with him right now.”

I scrunched up my face. “I promised Shannon I’d talk some sense into him today.”

“Pretty sure that’s what his lawyer is trying to do. I hope it works. The district attorney is pushing for me to send him to the larger county lockup, and I don’t want to do that. It’s not as bad as some prisons but it’s no place for a good guy like Michael. This is a five-star hotel compared to that place.”

I leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair with the worn cushion. “I’d wondered how he was able to stay in here for so long. I mean, not that I have that much experience with this sort of stuff. But usually you guys process them right out.”

He nodded. “But when we know someone is innocent, it makes it a little harder.”

“See that’s what I don’t get. I thought he was innocent until proven guilty.”

“In theory that’s always true. But the case against him is solid. I told you before, I don’t like it any more than you do.”

“I know. I know. Well, I guess I can stop by again later. If the lawyer doesn’t work. Is it okay if I text you on my way back from the college?”

“Sure. And about that security issue at your place.”

I’d hoped he’d forgotten about that.

“I’ve sent the team out to take some casts of the footprints. I’ve called Dave, who set up your security for the store. He’s going to put in motion sensor lights, cameras, the whole shebang.” He held up a hand when I tried to speak. “It’s my treat. And the alarm will be loud enough we can hear it all the way into town. Until then, you can stay at my place.”

“Nope. That’s not going to happen. You know I won’t do that to George.”

At the sound of his name, he’d raised his head as if to nod.

My brother chuckled. “Fine. But you’re going to keep all the doors and windows locked. You will call me if you suspect anything. And I mean, right away. Don’t blow it off. I’ll also be sending a patrol by several times a night. We’ve been needing to keep a better eye on the rural areas anyway. It’s a good start. I’m also picking you up a stun gun. No arguments.”

I held up my hands like I was giving up. “Fine.” I’d probably end up hurting myself with it, but if it made him feel better, I’d take it.

But I wasn’t scared anymore. Anger scorched through my blood. I would not be frightened out of my home.

By the time I’d reached the university, it was nearly time for my class. I took George on a quick walk and gave him some food and water in the small office I kept there.

Sweet River College of Fine Arts was a private school, which was well funded thanks to some Texas oil barons. But the kids who went there, at least the ones in the grad school where I taught, were far from entitled. They were rich kids, but ones interested in creating a better future. They were more politically and saving-the-world driven than any class I’d ever had before. But even more exciting—they were always eager to explore new ideas.

It’s the only reason I kept this one day of teaching. That and they offered health insurance for part-timers. Dean Slay, who was the head of the English department, was one of my favorite humans on the planet. She was the first one to push me toward opening the shop and insisted that I stay on. “You’re too talented and too good of a professor. These kids need you. You know you’ll miss it if you give it up entirely.”

The kids were mostly adults in their early twenties, but she’d been right. I would have missed it.

They filed in looking a little weary. Not unusual for a Monday, though most of them weren’t big partiers. I had twelve students in the class, and we used more of a conference room than a classroom. I sometimes had Power Points for them and brief lectures, but most of our discussions were how most of the information was disseminated.

We had a lively discussion about James Patterson and Dan Brown’s use of short chapters and powerful hooks to propel the story forward. Most of them had read the books in a few hours. Then we talked about how much they actually retained and was that a problem in society.

“We’re rushing through everything and forgetting to savor the words, the food, the wine or whatever it is we’re doing in the moment,” I said. “But these authors know how to grab the attention spans of readers who don’t normally have one and hold on to it.” Then I asked, as I always did, if they had any questions.

The students looked from one to the other.

Something’s going on.

Jeff, who was a big fan of all things Marvel—his entire wardrobe declared it so—and was also brilliant, spoke up.

“Lily heard from her Grandma Helen that you guys are doing some murder book club. That you put a board together like on a television show.”

Dear. Lord. Those women could not keep their mouths shut. I wondered if maybe I should kick them out of the book club.

“That’s gossip not a question.” My words came out a bit sharper than I meant.

“Well, some of us are wondering if we could join your murder club. Is that okay?” Jeff asked.

“It’s a book club, and free to anyone who wants to come to the market on a Friday night, but I have a feeling you guys have something better to do.”

“Not really,” Lily said. “I mean, we can always go out after. I was thinking about doing my midterm paper on how closely real-life crime solving is like popular books and television. My cousin Kevin says most of the time that sort of stuff gets it way wrong. It might be fun to be a part of something that could help solve a crime.”

Oh my, what have I done? “We’re not trying to solve a crime. My investigation—” that sounded so weird “—is more about proving my friend Michael’s innocence. He didn’t do it. I know it, and I think the police know it. But the mayor doesn’t like that we had a murder in town, so they need a prime suspect. And why am I telling you all of this?”

“Because it’s fascinating,” Jeff says. “This is some guy’s life that hangs in the balance.”

“That guy is my friend,” I said, closing my laptop. “And I don’t know how much we’re really helping. The police have been doing a lot of grunt work.”

“But it’s talking to people, right?” Lily asked. “I mean, would you want to talk to the police? They might be more willing to talk to one of us.”

“And put your lives in danger?” I asked. “That would be a hard pass. None of you will be talking to any suspects. Do you hear me?”

The class nodded, everyone except for Lily and Jeff.

“With all due respect, Professor McGregor, we’re all adults here. What we choose to do in our free time is up to us.”

“Not if it gets you killed. I won’t stop you from coming to book club, but you will not be assisting in the investigation. Understood?”

This time they all nodded.

“Any chance coming to the club could count as extra credit?” asked Eric, another bright student. They all were. But this guy was always looking for some kind of shortcut.

The class snickered.

I smiled at them. “That would be a solid no. You guys have so much reading for your class. Keep that in mind if you do want to come. That’s even more reading on your list.”

“Professor,” Lily chimed in, “literature is our life.”

There were more laughs.

I shook my head. “Fine. But you’ve been warned.”

“Can you tell us about the suspects you have so far?” That was Jeff.

“It’s not relevant to the class.”

“Oh, but I think it is,” Jeff said. “You could look at it in the way we just did the Patterson book. It’s usually the husband, wife or significant other. We’ve learned that in most of the mysteries we’ve read. The murderer is almost always someone the person knows. I saw the news reports. Your friend was railroaded in my opinion. His motive isn’t strong enough.”

This kid was way too smart. I guess there was no way of getting out of this and we did have a good ten minutes left. “That’s true but in this case, the two people closest to him have strong alibis with multiple witnesses.”

“When I saw that on the old Castle episodes the strong alibis never hold up. He had a wife and a mistress. If that’s not motive, I don’t know what is,” Lily said.

I laughed. “But this is real life and maybe Jeff is right. Not all murders are like the ones we read in books, see on television or in films. My brother always says the simple answer is usually the right one and most murders are committed by someone close to the victim. That’s why them focusing on Michael doesn’t make any sense. He was a casual business acquaintance.”

“In the Orient Express, they all did it and changed the timeline to make it look like he died at a certain time, but it was all lies,” Jeff said.

That reminded me, I still hadn’t looked at the autopsy report. What if he hadn’t been killed there? For a head wound, not that I know much about these sorts of things, but there wasn’t a lot of blood. Or what if he didn’t die right way? Maybe he died hours after that initial wound. That would change things.

My brother had probably looked at all of those angles, but it wouldn’t hurt to have fresh eyes. What if the mistress really did know about the wife and vice versa?

They could be working together.

But then that made that scene outside the coroner’s office Oscar worthy. They were genuinely angry. Could someone fake that kind of passion?

My phone buzzed letting me know it was time to let them go.

“Class is dismissed. Just so you guys know, showing up to book club does not in any way help your grade. Go and have a life. Grad school takes up enough of it.”

They were all talking about the murder and one of them suggested they put a study group together to go over all the news footage so far.

What was it about people nosing into murders like they could solve them?

Like you?

Well, there was that.

I prayed none of them showed up to book club.

The last thing I needed was one more person telling the whole town what we were up to.

There was something weird about the wife and girlfriend though.

I needed to talk to them both and it wasn’t just morbid curiosity. I felt like I’d know if they were lying to me.

There was no way I could just show up on their doorsteps.

Hmmm. Maybe I, as the sister of the sheriff couldn’t, but someone else might be able to.

A plan formed and I couldn’t help but smile.