Chapter Twenty-Five

I stay under the hot shower a little longer than I intended, but the spray offers me comfort and it’s exactly the space I need to review everything I know about Frannie’s murder to date. My date outfit is laid out on my bed, and I’ve put my hair in a shower cap so that I won’t have to do anything with it. I washed it last night and with it so long it’s easy to do a quick updo.

Hot water pulses between my shoulders as I hug myself and let my head hang, getting the crick out of my neck. I may not have solved Frannie’s murder, yet, but I have the satisfaction of knowing I’ve actually helped Trinity and SPD without messing anything up. Trinity’s the best at her job, and I’ll be more thrilled than she when she gets answers. I just wish it would be sooner than later.

The conversation with Liza keeps buzzing around my brain. She was correct; I’d never have figured out that Jenna has a crush on Ken. Except…Jenna was very attentive to him in those first days after the murder. Protective. More than your average executive assistant, I’d say. Of course, office relationships can become familial, I’d guess. Not unlike the Navy.

The biggest contributions I’ve made to the case for Trinity have to be that Max confided in me about his affair with Frannie, that they broke up on Saturday. And by speaking to Liza, I figured out that Jenna had the hots for Ken, long-term. That has to help, right? I need to tell Trinity all of this. There’s time to call and at least leave her voicemail before Nate shows up.

The thought of my date makes the butterfly residents in my stomach trill their wings in giddy anticipation.

“Calm down, girlfriend.” I talk to myself when I’m nervous.

I turn off the water and open the door to get my towel.

“Eeeetch! UUUUU eeeeetch!”

“Quiet, Ralph!” It’s as if he knows I have an important event tonight. I’m trying to believe it’s nothing more than a low-key dinner, but it’s with a man who isn’t Tom. And the first one I’ve been so drawn to. Amazing how much can happen in a little more than a week. The Saturday morning before Frannie died, I didn’t even know Nate existed. And the biggest surprise to me was when Max showed up at…

At back shop door. Surprised to see me. As if…

“We broke up on Saturday.” Max’s words, when he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Had Max planned to meet Frannie here last Saturday? I thought briefly he could have been the killer, but after my conversations with him and Trinity’s investigation, he’d already have revealed himself to be the killer. But he was dressed for a lot more than construction when he showed up at my back door. And hadn’t he intimated that the breakup happened sooner than he’d thought it would? Had he and Frannie had one last…fling…before she broke it off?

I shake away the image of them doing anything of the sort in the back storeroom. The cold memory of Frannie’s body is enough. But I can’t stop my thoughts from tumbling together, determined to coalesce into logic.

“I don’t know how Frannie found out about Ken and I.” Liza’s words.

“Meet me. I’ll text you where.” Frannie to Jenna, in front of Latte Love, the last time I saw Frannie alive.

“Uuuuu eeeetch!” Ralph’s screech interrupts my problem-solving mode. He’s on a tear, as if he can sense my agitation. What should be elation, really.

Because I think I’ve solved it.

“Eeeetch! Eeeetch!”

“Ralph! Give me a minute.”

“Uuuuu weeeetch.” He won’t quit. But this last yell of his, it’s lower, more…human. When he wants to, Ralph can eerily mimic a specific person’s voice.

It’s not b-eeeetch, but weeeeeetch. Ralph’s really good at consonants and would delight in saying bitch if he ever heard it. No, it’s not b-eeetch.

It’s witch. You witch! In a voice I recognize, should have recognized days ago. A soft, definitely female voice.

There’s one common denominator, one person, in all of this. I wrap the large towel around me and grab my phone, on the bathroom counter. Trinity’s on speed dial, which my shaking fingers appreciate.

“Come on, come on.” Several rings, then it goes to voicemail. I groan, then leave my message. “Hey, it’s me. Look, I know you’re going to think I’m crazy, but the one person who deserves another look is—”

“Put the phone down, Angel.” I jump, clutch the towel to my chest. I stare at the gun pointed to my chest, look up into the eyes of a very manipulative woman.

The killer.

“Jenna.” I say her name, loudly, before I drop the phone on the counter, praying she doesn’t see I didn’t disconnect. With luck, I can get her to confess and it’ll be on Trinity’s voicemail. I hold my hands up. My towel drops. Great. I have to negotiate with a murderer, and stay alive, while naked.

You’ve done Navy SERE training. Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape.

“Please, Jenna. Let’s talk. We can work this out.”

“Uuuuu Eeeetch!” Ralph doesn’t think so.

“Shut up and get your stupid bird to do the same. Now.” Jenna looks nothing like the subdued assistant tonight. For one, she’s dressed in all black. Great. Probably stalked me while I, oblivious, floated up here in anticipation of going out with Nate.

Poor Nate. I doubt he’s ever found a naked, dead date instead of one all dressed up to meet him. Or undressed, of co—

“Don’t you hear me?” Jenna waves the gun and the glint in her eyes reminds me of the glass shards left in Frannie’s. The reminder of Frannie’s undeserved, horrible death opens the door to sheer outrage. My legs and arms begin to shake and I clench my fists.

Get her talking.

“I hear you, Jenna. I know you’re going to kill me, so at least tell me something before you do. You killed Frannie, didn’t you?”

“I hadn’t planned on it. It was a mistake! I got mad, is all.”

“Why were you so angry?”

“She treated Ken like dirt!”

“That wasn’t new, though. What did she do this time?”

“I saw her. With him.”

“With whom?”

“That low-life handyman you hired!”

“Max.” It all clicks into place. She’d walked in on them when they were together. Max had admitted their rendezvous to me.

“Yeah, yeah, Max!” She screams his name in the scariest pitch I’ve ever heard. She’s shaking all over and I know I’m closer to death than I’ve ever been. I have to stay cool, calm. For the girls. For my family. For me.

“Listen to me, Jenna. You just described a crime of passion. No jury will ever convict you for that.” My new lying habit that’s come easily with a barrel in my face.

“No, they won’t, because I’m not going to get caught. You had no idea I know you’ve been snooping all over town about this, did you?”

I’d only just figured out she was the killer, so why would I think she was paying attention to me? Not the time for a wisecrack reply, though. “That’s just it, Jenna you will get caught. Detective Colson is already on the way over.” Another lie. “So what, you’re going to take me out now, too? To what end?”

Her head rears back, the handgun lowers a few inches. Jenna’s not immune to my words. Good.

“Frannie wasn’t good for this town. You don’t see that but everyone else does. She was evil, a real witch! Things will be much nicer here with her gone.” She takes a breath, re-aims. “Now, move, before I finish you in here.”

Slowly I back out of the bathroom, never moving my gaze from her weapon. My Navy training has finally kicked in. I know this because it’s like I’m watching myself go through the motions, while calculating whether it’d be best to kick the gun out of her hands, or duck and tackle her. I’m not going to allow her to fire at me point blank.

And she’s not going to, or she already would have. Jenna might still change her mind.

“Why don’t you put the gun down, Jenna, and let’s talk this out. I know it’s been so hard on you. All of this.”

“Damn right it has.”

My legs hit the table at the back of my sofa, which faces the fireplace. When I bump into it, the keys rattle in their bowl. Jenna’s between me and the front door, my only viable escape. She left the front door open, no doubt so I wouldn’t hear the door shut. Ralph’s shivering inside his cage, between the living room and kitchen.

“How did you break in, Jenna?” I’d changed all the locks.

“You didn’t throw your bolt, you stupid jerk.”

“Silly me.” I make it a point to look over my shoulder. “I can’t go any further here, Jenna.”

“Uuuuuuu weeeeetch!” Ralph lets out his loudest yell ever, which makes Jenna jump.

And gives me a chance to live.

Before Jenna takes her attention from Ralph I dive for her legs, knocking her flat. The gun goes off, followed by plaster falling from the ceiling. I hit her with such force that I roll past her, to the front door. I scramble to my feet but she’s already on hers, and she’s waving the gun around like it’s a sparkler.

I grab the Santa figurine from his spot next to the front door and throw it at her face. “Take that, you witch!”

“Hey!” A shot fires, Jenna screams. “I’m going to kill you!”

I’m already running out the door, angled for the stairwell. I’ll jump down the entire flight if I have to.

“Oof.” I hit a hard wall before I reach the first stair. Arms go around me, hold me close. I try to escape. I have to keep running!

“It’s okay. You’re safe. We got her.” Words murmured into my ear. The familiar deep timbre cuts through my adrenaline rush.

I look up. “Nate?”

He carefully turns me around so that I can see my front door. Open wide, with Trinity in the threshold. She’s posed with her legs wide, pistol hot and between her steady hands.

As soon as Trinity lowers and holsters her weapon, Nate and I take a step closer. As Trinity calls for EMTs, we learn why. Jenna is sitting on the floor in front of Ralph’s cage, my beloved Russian Santa with a bullet hole through his center on its back next to her. Jenna’s moaning, holding her right shoulder. She’ll live to stand trial.

A rustling behind me makes me jump. But it’s just Nate, shrugging out of his parka and wrapping it around me.

I’d forgotten I was naked.

“Nate, I was in the shower—”

“It’s okay, Angel.” The glimmer of appreciation in his eyes tells me that it is, indeed, okay. All of it. So Nate saw my hiney—no biggie. Well, I mean, my butt’s not the smallest—

Pounding footsteps heralds a uniformed officer, who walks up behind Trinity. At her nod and hand motion, Officer Sam McCloud retrieves Jenna’s weapon from next to my sofa. With zero sign of nausea.

Before I allow myself to look at Ralph’s cage more closely, I say a quick prayer. What are the chances a bullet ricocheted into his birdie heart?

Slim to nil, apparently, as he’s sitting on his heated perch, moving from one claw to the other. His version of pacing. His sweet green head is bobbing up and down, as if he’s trying to find the words to express all that’s unfolded in front of him. Again. Until he sees me in the doorway.

“Mommy’s home!”

“I never would have been caught if not for her.” Jenna practically spits the words, refusing to look my way. She’s sitting up on a gurney, being tended to by EMTs, who have already bandaged her shoulder and put her on oxygen. Her hands are handcuffed in front of her, as are her ankles.

Trinity arrested her for the murder of Frannie Schrock, for breaking and entering, plus attempted murder of me. I’m standing back from it all, still wrapped in Nate’s parka. Nate hasn’t left my side, nor taken his arm from around my shoulders.

“You may want to wait for your lawyer, Jenna.” Trinity’s stern warning tells me all I need to know. SPD has enough evidence to allow the DA to prosecute Jenna, and for the Judge to put her away for a long while.

“It doesn’t matter. I did it out of anger. It was a crime of passion. I know the law.” Jenna turns her head, her gaze searching until she finds me. Pure contempt glows from her eyes. “You ruined it all. You want Ken to yourself.”

I shake my head while Nate grips my shoulder more firmly. I look up at him. “There’s nothing—”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” He nods. Warmth curls in my belly, dispels the last of the fright shudders that have racked my frame since Jenna pointed her weapon at me.

“That’s enough, Jenna.” Trinity looks at the EMTs. “Officer McCloud will be with her 24/7.”

“Yes, ma’am.” They nod, slowly wheel Jenna out of the room. Is it possible that this ugly anomaly of my hometown life is finally over?