"Coming!" I grabbed my phone. I wanted to record his expression when I told him who the killer was. Yes, I was the gloating kind of person. Shame on me. I'd be able to use the video as evidence of my genius for years to come.

  I hit the record button, raced to the front door, and threw it open, camera pointed. "You're—"

  My heart stopped. I was looking into the barrel, or whatever you called the lethal end, of a tiny crossbow identical to the one in the picture Hugh had just texted me. I reacted without thinking and slammed the door.

  Marvin was faster than I'd imagined he could be, especially for an old man with Parkinson's. He wedged his foot in before I could get the door fully closed.

  I leaned with my full weight against the door, trying to keep him out. Until I thought better of it. He was old, but he had a good hundred pounds on me. I couldn't hold back his weight long. And there was no way I was going to be able to crush his heavy orthopedic boots, one of which was wedged in my door. Further, if a crossbow could pierce armor, it could certainly pierce my mere wooden door.

  I looked around desperately for anything that I could use as a weapon. My entry table was within reach. I tossed my phone on it and had a long enough reach to grab half of a pair of a heavy glass candlesticks I kept on the table for decoration.

  I needed all the firepower I had. Marvin was already shoving his weight around and wedging the door open farther. I took a deep breath. I'd have one shot. And so would he. I had to make mine count.

  A smart man would have given up and run. But Marvin was a madman bent on revenge. On a vendetta. Which made him doubly dangerous. He leaned into the door. I counted to three and fell back, hoping to catch him off guard and off balance. As he came tumbling in, I brought the candlestick down full force, aiming for his head.

  He was expecting me to attack. He shielded his head with his arm. My blow glanced off, hitting him on the shoulder between his head and neck. It was enough to knock the crossbow out of his hands. It clattered across the floor.

  I had the advantage of youth on him. I scrambled to it and grabbed it first. I swung around, finger on the trigger the way I remembered seeing Kit and Jenn do, and aimed for Marvin's heart. It was a much surer target than his eye, that was for sure. I still wondered how Marvin had made such a precise shot.

  "Take one step closer and I will shoot you. Where it counts." I was breathing hard. Where was Ridge?

  There was an instant where Marvin looked like he was about to turn and run.

  "I'll shoot you in the back," I warned him. "I'll do it. You killed Ralph. I won't let you get away. Put your hands up." I waved the crossbow, motioning him toward the couch. "Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable. The cops are on the way."

  "You didn't have time to call them." He spat the words out, but beneath his venom, there was an edge of defeat and fear.

  "Didn't I?" I motioned again. "I was so sure you'd come I called them last night and made an appointment. Move."

  He shuffled to the couch as I watched him closely. There was no way I was letting him get hold of something to throw at me.

  "You knew it was me." He sat, looking suddenly exhausted. "How?"

  "You first," I said. "You knew I knew. That's why you're here."

  "I suspected you knew." He looked resigned. "But I decided to kill you when Jenn told me yesterday that Ralph left you his Kolibri. That's when I realized how important you were to him. He hid it well. I think the old man might even have been in love with you. Ralph was always a hopeless romantic with an eye for blondes."

  I swallowed my revulsion. "So you were going to kill me like you did Ralph's hanging plants and his hummingbirds. Even his reputation and latest big project?"

  "I hated him." Marvin shook with more than tremors. He shook with anger. "He took everything from me. Why shouldn't I take everything from him?"

  "He and the others gave you every opportunity to retire," I said. "Ralph wasn't far behind you. He would have had to retire soon, too. His arthritis was getting too bad and painful. He would have retired gracefully. He would have done it for the art."

  "Not soon enough." Marvin glared at me.

  "So you talked to Jenn and decided to kill me. That's it? That's all it took?"

  "It wasn't a decision I took lightly," he said. "I realized you knew. Or would piece it together soon. As soon as you had Ralph's place card, written in his own hand. Jenn took it from the stack that day you came to the mansion. She gave it to Brandon, who was going to give it to you."

  I nodded. "He did give it to me. Yesterday when he came to see me and hired me to replace Ralph and write out the love poem for him."

  "That project should have been mine." Marvin scowled.

  "You created a dilemma for yourself. The poem was a surprise. Brandon was playing it very close to the chest. Ralph wouldn't have told you about it, not with the strained relationship between you. He wasn't telling anyone.

  "But you knew about it. Because you saw it when you killed him. You wanted that commission. You were sure it was only a matter of time before Brandon came to you and asked you to take it on, too. And when he didn't, you got worried. Who had he hired?" I was trying to keep Marvin talking until Ridge arrived.

  Marvin didn't answer.

  "How did you get in to Ralph's without anyone noticing?" I asked. "That was brilliant."

  Now that I'd played to his vanity, Marvin smiled. "I've been in the business almost as long as Ralph. I know how to be invisible. People in our business have clients and deliveries coming and going all the time. After a while, the neighbors stop paying attention. They don't even notice someone going to the door.

  "It's easy. Act like a client. Like you belong. Don't wear anything too distinctive, and they won't remember you. Or if they do, they won't be able to say on what day they saw you. Not with any certainty."

  "Smart," I said. "And you knew Ralph kept his door unlocked."

  "And worked with earplugs in." Marvin laughed. "You should have seen his surprise when he looked up and saw me pointing that crossbow at him. It was a look I'll never forget. Hit him right in the eye. Cleanest shot I could have made."

  "How did you do that with your tremors?" I was genuinely curious. "They're slight. But that was a precision shot, and you made it with sniper-like accuracy."

  Marvin looked pleased with the compliment. "It was accidental," he said. "I meant to hit him in the heart. The tremor threw my aim off. Getting him in the eye was a bonus."

  "The pen is mightier than the sword," I said. "Especially when it's used as an arrow."

  "It seemed poetic." He grinned. "Poetic justice. Kill him with his own prize pen made with his own hand. And I killed him while he was copying a poem. Triply poetic, you might say."

  "Then you modified the poem," I said. "Took a few more of his favorite pens from his pen display case."

  "I got those earlier. Backup arrows for my quiver," Marvin said.

  "Drank his dad's 1920s cola—"

  "I dumped that out. Who wants to drink pop that old?"

  "And salted the plant food and put honey in the bird feeders."

  He nodded. "And no one noticed. All they saw was what they wanted to see—an old man they thought was Ralph taking care of his home and birds at his usual time."

  "You look nothing alike," I said.

  "You weren't listening," he said, rubbing his shoulder where I'd whacked him. "We didn't have to look the same. I wore a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, like Ralph always did. People don't pay attention. Ralph's house is a good way off the road. No one even noticed." He paused. "I made one mistake."

  I raised an eyebrow.

  "He slumped onto the drafting table after I shot him. He wasn't bleeding. I had to pull him off the poem to modify it. I put him back in position, not realizing he'd bleed onto the work. I hated Ralph, but that was a masterpiece."

  I nodded.

  I heard a car pull into the driveway. I had to force myself not to look, not to take my eye off Marvin. Marvin was still dangerous.

  My front door was standing wide open. I heard Ridge beep the car locked. Knew the moment he suspected something was up and spotted the open door. Heard him come up the walk at a run. "James!" He stopped short at the door.

  My back was to him, but I could see his shocked expression in the mirror that hung on the far wall. "Call for backup and draw your gun, Ridge. Here's your killer."

  Ridge pulled his gun and trained it on Marvin, calling for backup in his Bluetooth.

  "Got him?" I asked Ridge.

  "I have him, James. You can drop your…weapon? What is that thing?"

  "A specially designed miniature crossbow armed with one of Ralph's missing pens." I lowered the weapon and addressed Marvin. "Why take the pen Ralph was working with? And how did you get the one you shot him with?"

  "I hired someone to act as an interested client and lift it during a consultation here," Marvin said. "Along with a few others, as I said, in case I needed another shot. It's obvious why I took the pen Ralph was working with, isn't it? I was going to destroy it. It was something he loved."

  "Speaking of something I love," Ridge said, "good coffee. Looks like I'm not going to get it now."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dirk and several King County deputies arrived within minutes. They cuffed Marvin and hauled him off, along with the crossbow, and my phone. My phone had been recording Marvin's confession. I hoped it had gotten it all. It was good stuff.

  After the others had gone, Ridge stayed to make sure I was okay and take my statement.

  I led him to the kitchen. "I need coffee before I start trembling," I said.

  "You already are." Ridge pointed.

  "That's shock," I said. "When it wears off, I'll start trembling for real. Besides, I promised you a cup. And I've already ground some of my best beans."

  "Sounds fair." He followed me and watched while I made us each a cup.

  We settled at the kitchen table.

  "How did you figure out that Marvin was the killer?" Ridge asked. "I wouldn't have guessed he could have made that shot."

  "It was two things, really," I said. "First, something Brandon Watson said when he came to see me at Flourish yesterday—Marvin can no longer make loop-tail g's without trembling, and it showed. Marvin had to fudge them. In addition, he couldn't maintain a long, loopy flourish."

  "Loop-tail g?" Ridge asked.

  I grabbed a piece of paper and drew one for him. "Like this—g. It's the hardest letter in the alphabet to draw."

  He looked at it. "Sounds right. I never could draw one of those worth beans."

  "Most people can't." I smiled. "It took hours of practice before I could."

  "So how did that help you realize Marvin was the killer?" Ridge took a sip of coffee and smiled contentedly.

  I made good coffee and wasn't humble about it.

  "Brandon hired me to do his love poem to Jenn in hand lettering. He gave me the poem. And because he knew Ralph was a good friend of mine, he gave me the place card with Ralph's name on it that Ralph had done for Brandon's wedding."

  "Ralph was invited?"

  "I know!" I said. "That's what I said."

  "Are you invited?" Ridge asked.

  "Not on your life."

  "Huh," he said. "Okay. So then what?"

  "Ralph Coggins has two loop-tail g's in it. And they were perfect on the card Ralph had done. But when I was writing out the poem and got to the last line Ralph had apparently written, I got to the first loop-tail g in the poem. And I remembered, it was fudged in the copy that had been on Ralph's desk when he was murdered. I'd taken a picture of it. I doubled-checked on my phone—I was right."

  Ridge's face lit up. "Ralph could still do the g's, but Marvin couldn't?"

  I nodded. "Marvin admitted to killing Ralph and then modifying the work, adding that g. Probably so people would think Marvin was still just as good as Ralph. That Ralph was cheating now, too, and should have lost his master penman status. And Marvin expected to be asked to get the commission and finish the poem. To do that, he'd have to fudge the g's. There are a few more in the poem. Ralph just hadn't gotten to them before he died. Marvin said he made a mistake by slumping Ralph's body back onto Ralph's work. He hadn't anticipated Ralph bleeding on it."

  "Brilliant, James."

  I beamed with pleasure. "Thank you."

  "So why did you want to wait until morning to tell me all this? Why not gloat last night? It would have been safer."

  "I wanted more proof against Marvin. Seeing Kit and Jenn in medieval dress gave me another thought. Kit mentioned that Marvin had done some family crests and heralds for some of Brandon's video games. Heraldic art—family crests and the like—are one of Marvin's master specialties. Those two things reminded me—Marvin also went to a lot of heraldic conventions and medieval fairs, particularly in the U.K.—where there are a lot of masters of arms who will make specialized antique weapons for those who can pay.

  "Hot Hugh is also an expert in the heraldic arts. He's tied in with that crowd. I asked him to find out whether Marvin had commissioned a weapon, particularly a crossbow, anytime in the past year."

  "And he had."

  "It's all on my phone that you confiscated. Including contact information for the master of arms who did the work."

  "Keep solving crimes and I'm going to have to hire you," Ridge said.

  "You already did," I said. "As your expert on lettering."

  "So I did." He drained his coffee.

  "Another cup?"

  "You have to ask?"

  I laughed and got up to make him another.

  "I'm surprised Ralph hadn't asked you to be his plus-one at Brandon Watson and Jennifer Allen's wedding." Ridge winked at me.

  "Why would he?" I shook my head and filled my coffee press.

  "I think he was a little in love with you."

  "Marvin said the same thing." I rolled my eyes. "You're both crazy. Men and women can be just friends. Plus he was old enough to be my grandpa."

  "Love knows no age," Ridge said. "He left you a jeweled pen. His most prized possession. It's practically jewelry."

  "Because he believed in my talent."

  "You're so naïve." Ridge grinned. "If you do get a last-minute invitation to the Watson-Allen wedding, who will you take as a plus-one? Just an FYI, I'm not working this weekend. I saw a segment about the wedding on the evening show last night—the cake and coffee are going to be fantastic. Brandon's ordered a custom roasted bean from the roastery downtown. I'd like to taste that."

  I spun around to face him. "You, of course. Is there any doubt?"

  His eyes twinkled. "When in doubt, always take your best friend."

  "And the guy with the most appreciation for good coffee." And who maybe makes my heart sing.

  Epilogue

  Every season, sometimes as often as every month, I offer a subscription box for sale. These boxes always sell out, sometimes as quickly as in a few hours. I throw a party and invite my friends to help me stuff boxes and package them for mailing. As a thank you for helping me out, I give all my helpers a filled subscription box of their own. The boxes are always themed. I fill them with my art and favorite items.

  I decided to offer a summer subscription box. It was hummingbird-themed, in honor of Ralph Coggins. I included one of his favorite quotes that I hand lettered and embellished with the hummingbird he and I had created. I signed each print with the Kolibri pen. Maybe it would bring me luck now, too.

  The pen was absolutely stunning and wrote like a dream. The first time I held it, I felt like a queen in a fairytale dream. It was hard to believe the sparkling jewels encrusting it were real, nearly flawless diamonds. I kept the pen locked in the bank vault, just like Ralph had. And there was no way I'd ever sell it.

  Caruthers Adams wasn't happy with me about that. He'd have to live with it. At least he wasn't a killer. Or desperate enough to kill for a pen. Yet.

  I made Jenn happy by finding her another pen with a hummingbird theme and covered with jewels. I used it to pen the hummingbird on the love poem Brandon commissioned from me. They used it to sign their marriage license. No, I never got an invitation to their wedding. Ridge was disappointed. He was hoping for a taste of their coffee and cake.

  Their wedding went off without a hitch. Well, it ended in them being hitched, obviously. But it went smoothly. Would the marriage be as smooth? That was anyone's guess. I never did find out what Ralph saw that worried Jenn. My guess was an archery lesson or cosplaying act, just like I'd seen. Anyway, they were off on some grand honeymoon in a top-secret locale.

  Marvin Barrett pled guilty to the murder of Ralph Coggins and attempted murder of me. In exchange for the plea and full confession, he was given a lighter sentence. At his age, it was still a life sentence, even though it wasn't life. But it saved the prosecutor's office a lot of money. So everyone was happy. Except maybe Marvin. I heard they weren't allowing him access to pens in prison. He had a way of weaponizing them.

  My box-stuffing party was in full swing when Sue LaRue, who owned the perfumery in town, breezed in late.

  I poured her a glass of wine and assigned her a spot on our assembly line.

  "You'll never guess what I found out," Sue said, then coyly took a sip of her wine.

  "I'll bite," I said. "What did you find out?"

  "I know who the new owner of the Culp Building is?" Her eyes danced. "He came into the perfumery today and bought a bottle of my most expensive Parisian perfume. And ladies"—she motioned us close—"he is just as hot and gorgeous as the rumors. He told me with his own mouth that he bought the building. And he's planning to spend a lot of time here in the future. He apparently fell in love with Cedar Valley when he was helping his sister with some of her wedding details. She had her calligraphy done locally here in town."

  My heart stopped. I was getting a funny idea…

  "All right. Stop teasing," Sharon Brock said. "Who is this mystery man? We want a name."

  Sue beamed and shrugged regally, like a queen pretending to be humble. "Kit Perry."

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15