Juniper Grove Cozy Mystery Box Set 3, page 26
part #7 of Juniper Grove Cozy Mystery Series
“That’s not true. I asked about Natalie once, and you bit my head off.”
“One person, Rachel. One person I asked you not to talk about three months ago because I didn’t know if she wanted to keep seeing me, and if she didn’t, I didn’t want anyone to know that.”
He was right. I’d known him for months, and we’d been through some hair-raising times together, Gilroy’s near-death at the hands of crazed driver last December being one of them. But that had been about Gilroy. And after Gilroy, me. And Underhill had stood by us both.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I really am sorry.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat, trying to get a grip on my emotions.
“Well don’t cry about it. Women.” He smiled. “You bring me a lot of donuts, Rachel. That’s pretty cool. And you’re working on getting us a new coffee machine.” He glanced down at his mug. “Which by the way, we need real bad. This tastes like gasoline.”
“I am sorry. I want you to know I think of you as a good friend, even if I don’t act that way sometimes. I can be so blind.”
Underhill was still smiling. “Is this a Massachusetts thing? Do they get all soppy like this in Boston?”
I smiled back. “They most assuredly do not. Pity.”
Hearing the front door open, I turned to see Gilroy holding the door for Sophie. And she had her cell phone in her hand.
CHAPTER 18
“I thought I didn’t get any messages on Sunday,” Sophie said. “If you don’t see texts messages, you don’t leap to the conclusion that someone took your phone and deleted them. But how do we get them back?”
She had laid her phone on the front desk, and the four of us were staring down at it as if it were a patient to be prepped for surgery.
“Do you know what to do, Rachel?” Gilroy asked.
Now that I was looking at the actual phone, no, I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to endanger the recovery by taking guesses and poking around.
Underhill jumped in. “I was researching that this morning, trying to figure a way around the service provider giving us Ackley’s deleted messages—if they even have them. There’s free recovery software for that on the web. Do you have the USB, Sophie?”
She dug into her purse and pulled out the phone’s USB cord while Underhill turned to his desk computer and downloaded a small app.
“Have you used your phone since Sunday?” he asked Sophie. “Texts, emails, downloading?”
“No, nothing.”
“Good. Then if you do have texts from Sunday, they probably haven’t been overwritten.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Gilroy asked.
“No, I’m not, Chief, but we don’t have much of a choice. There.” He angled the computer our way. “TextDoctor recovery software.”
“I never would have guessed,” Gilroy said, obviously pleased with his first officer.
“Until this morning, neither would I,” Underhill said.
Underhill set to work on Sophie’s phone, and a mere three minutes later, he had recovered two text messages to Sophie, both of them sent on Sunday afternoon by Pastor Ackley.
“‘Found out about bells,’” Underhill read out loud. “‘I suspected for a while. Friends still with you?’ That’s the first message.”
“When was it sent?” Gilroy asked.
“Just before two o’clock in the afternoon,” Underhill replied. “The second message was sent six minutes later. It reads, ‘It’s not safe. Meet me in back of cottage.’ That must have been when he decided to walk through the cemetery.”
“The quick way,” Sophie said.
“He wanted to get you out of the cottage,” I said. “So he wasn’t trying to get the killer to give herself up.”
Sophie groaned in frustration. “But who killed him?”
“Sorry I’m late, Underhill.”
At the sound of Officer Turner’s voice, we turned to the door.
“I’m staying, Turner,” Underhill said. “We’re in the groove. We found Ackley’s text messages.”
Turner made a beeline for the desk. “They cracked his phone?”
“No, that’s Sophie’s phone. We found out Ackley sent the messages to her. He tried to warn her.”
“Good man,” Turner said. “So who deleted the texts?”
“We think either Alison or Tyra,” Gilroy said.
“Which one of them knew about the bell system enough to hack it?” I asked, glancing about the lobby. “And which one of them hated Pastor Ackley?”
“Neither one of them likes the church very much,” Sophie said.
“But Alison goes to St. John’s,” Underhill said.
“It’s habit with her,” Sophie said. “She doesn’t like the services, the music, or most of the people who go there. She’s attended for years, but she moans about it at all of our monthly meetings.”
“Tyra West doesn’t like St. John’s either,” Turner said. “When I drove her home Sunday night, I said it was a nice-looking church. I’d just searched it and was looking for something to talk about. She was like a mummy in the back seat. So I said I liked the pastor’s office chair with the brown leather and thick lumbar support. It’s exactly what I’m looking for at home.”
“You what?” Underhill said, a look of amused disbelief on his face.
“She didn’t know what I was talking about,” Turner continued. “She said she’d only been in the bell tower and would never set foot in the rest of the church. Pretty antagonistic, if you ask me.”
Underhill unhooked Sophie’s phone and handed it and the USB to her. “Sophie, between those two, who do you think killed Lauren and the pastor?” he asked.
“I’m at a complete loss,” she said. “I’ve thought and thought about it, and I can’t imagine either of them being so brutal. Stabbing someone is so cruel. They can both be mean, but verbally, not physically.”
I told them I’d be back in a minute and left the station. On the sidewalk, I slipped my phone from my jeans pocket and dialed Holly’s Sweets. When Peter answered, I told him where I was and asked him to give Holly a message. I needed to know if she’d heard gossip about Alison, Tyra, or anyone close to them. It was probably vicious gossip, I warned him. The sort Holly was loath to repeat. But this was important.
“Both Tyra and Alison knew about the bell system,” I said as I walked back inside. “They both talked about it the morning Holly and I drove to the cottage.”
“Alison’s been up in the bell tower more than once,” Sophie said. “The mechanics fascinate her. I think Tyra went up there just to please her parents.”
“Why would that please her parents?” I asked.
“They’ve been church members for three decades, since before she was born, but they’ve never been able to get her to attend services.”
Gilroy shifted on his feet. “Are you saying she’s never gone to a service?”
“Never,” Sophie replied. “Not even at Christmas.”
“What did she think of Pastor Ackley?” Gilroy asked.
“I don’t think she liked him, but she didn’t hate him. It wasn’t personal with her. She thinks pastors in general are nosy, and she’s right. It’s their job to involve themselves in church members’ lives. I don’t know why it bothered her. She didn’t attend, so what was the difference? But maybe she heard things through her parents and didn’t care for the church grapevine.”
As I pondered Sophie’s words, I recalled my conversation with Tyra and Alison about the church’s bell-ringing system. Alison had appeared most knowledgeable, but Tyra had known more than I would have expected from someone who, by Sophie’s account, had been dragged unwillingly to the bell tower.
“Wait a second,” I said, thrusting out a hand. “Tyra knew where the controller was.”
“Sure she did,” Sophie said. “She was up in the bell tower.”
“In the bell tower,” I said. “She told Turner she’s never set foot in the church office. So how does she know the controller is there? If it were me, I’d assume it was in a utility room.”
“Alison told her?” Sophie suggested.
“But Tyra knew it’s a black box,” I said. “On Sunday she said, ‘It’s a black box, literally.’ I remember her exact words. She said it was about the size of a shoe box, talking as if she’d seen it herself, not heard about it secondhand. She’s been in that office—and specifically to see the controller.”
“This is crazy,” Sophie said, rubbing her eyes. “My friends? My friends?”
“Sophie, you knew it had to be one of them,” Underhill said tenderly. “And they’re not your friends. Trust me, I’ve heard those ladies talk to you and each other. They’re not friends with anyone.”
“Mrs. Crawford, do you know of any trouble in Miss West’s life or in her parents’ lives that would leave her vulnerable to blackmail?” Gilroy asked.
Sophie looked as though she’d been slapped across the face. “No. No, I don’t.” She turned to Underhill. “No,” she said again, more insistently.
“We have reason to believe Lauren was blackmailing people who had a connection to St. John’s,” Underhill said. “Did she ever threaten you in any way?”
“No. Never.” Her hand flew to her collarbone and she looked back at Gilroy. “She worked in the church office.”
Gilroy nodded. “There’s not a much better place a blackmailer could work.”
I was zeroing in on Tyra as the murderer, but we still lacked a clear motive. Had Lauren been blackmailing her? Had Tyra refused to be blackmailed? Or had she succumbed at first but finally reached her limit? I needed to talk to Holly, pronto. “I think I can help. I’ll be right back,” I said, hurrying from the station.
The final pieces of the puzzle were dropping into place. Lauren’s murder had nothing to do with Penelope Falls or the sale of the cottage or the book club. She was killed to stop her blackmail scheme. Even more than that, she was killed to shut her up. So she could never spread what she had heard.
I raced down the sidewalk and entered the bakery to find Holly knee-deep in customers. When she caught sight of me, she tipped her head toward the back of the shop. I threaded my way through the crowd, circled around the counter, and waited for her by a stainless prep table.
A minute later she joined me, dropping into a stool as she wiped her hands on a towel. “Oh, my feet. Peter gave me your message, but we’re not usually this busy once we get past the morning rush.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is important.”
She grinned. “Detective work isn’t an interruption. I like it almost as much as baking.”
“I know you hate gossip,” I began, “but in this case, it may help solve Lauren’s murder. Have you heard any gossip about Alison Francis, Tyra West, or their families?”
“Peter mentioned the word ‘vicious.’”
“I think it must be vicious gossip. Otherwise, two people wouldn’t be dead.”
“I haven’t heard anything about Alison, but I have about Tyra.” She chewed on the inside of her lower lip. “This is awful. How detailed do you need me to be?”
“As detailed as you can be. Lauren was uncovering secrets about people and blackmailing them. She even listened in to a counseling session with Pastor Ackley last Wednesday.”
“Wednesday. Is that why he was killed?”
“I think that’s why Lauren was killed. Ackley was killed because he found out who hacked the bell system.”
“Rachel, if this has nothing to do with Lauren’s death—”
“Then it stays a secret. I won’t talk to anyone but Gilroy.”
Holly tossed the towel to the table. She had no problem passing along snippets of overheard conversations she was certain could help solve a murder, but she was about to wade into murkier waters. “Thursday morning is when I first heard one of my customers say to another that Mason West, Tyra’s father, was in counseling with Ackley,” she said, a mixture of caution and distaste in her voice. “I almost told her to get out. Church counseling! That’s no one else’s business. What royal gall.”
“Do you know what the counseling was for?”
“Friday afternoon I heard a different customer talk about the counseling. This one was more specific, but not completely.” Holly grimaced. “It had to do with a gambling addiction. It sounded very expensive and very serious.”
“Friday afternoon,” I repeated. “The book club ladies got together Friday night. It sounds to me like Lauren was leaking more and more information, putting the pressure on Tyra.”
“And then Lauren joined Tyra for the group’s usual weekend book club?”
“Tyra must have said no to the blackmail at first. Maybe Lauren hoped to have some cash in her pocket by the time she went home.”
“And Tyra wanted to protect her father.”
“I think she was more interested in protecting herself. You know what I realized today? All the people who shouldn’t have talked, did talk, and the people who should have talked, didn’t. Eventually, someone was going to kill Lauren Hughes.”
Holly picked up the towel and began to wring it in her hands. “Tyra was the one who insisted Lauren’s death wasn’t an accident. Why?”
“She had to. She knew a closer examination of Lauren’s body would uncover the neck wound, and she knew the fireplace poker would be found. Being the first to say it was murder made her look more innocent. And her insistence that it had to do with Penelope Falls was classic misdirection.”
Holly stood with a weary sigh and crossed her arms, hugging herself. “Caleb is already heartbroken about Lauren’s death. How am I going to tell him his favorite substitute teacher was a blackmailer? The woman who encouraged his interest in the stars? You know it will be in the paper by morning. My son’s teacher, Rachel. He’s only in middle school. How could I have trusted her? Am I that foolish?”
“You are not foolish, Holly. The pastor trusted her too. So much that he allowed her to work in the church office. He never dreamed she was blackmailing people, and he knew her much better than you did. Same with Sophie. When Gilroy told her Lauren was blackmailing people, she was genuinely shocked. Lauren must have been one heck of a sociopathic actress. I can’t say she had a dark soul, but she had a troubled soul. Sometimes the worst people put up the smoothest fronts. And sometimes the nastiest people have never killed anyone. Like Alison French.”
Holly smiled.
“Unless I see a red flag, I’d rather trust than not,” I said adamantly. “Trust is not a weakness, Holly.”
CHAPTER 19
Gilroy arrested Tyra that afternoon, soon after I told him about her father and his counseling at the church. Being a murderer by nature but not by skilled practice, Tyra had crumbled under the pressure and confessed to killing both Lauren and the pastor the moment the handcuffs hit her wrists. Case closed.
But the killings left behind a stunned town and a grieving church. Holly and Peter told Caleb about Lauren’s blackmailing ways before he had a chance to hear from his friends or read about it in the paper, and she said he took it surprisingly well. The benefits of being thirteen, we supposed. You moved on easily.
Tyra told Gilroy she’d had enough of Lauren’s threats. She didn’t have money to pay her, and regardless, she didn’t trust Lauren to keep quiet even if she did pay her. Tyra used the word “snapped,” in fact, which Gilroy said indicated the tenor of her future courtroom defense. I don’t know what happened, Your Honor. I just snapped. Trouble was, she also told Gilroy that she had taken the fireplace poker to her bedroom hours before killing Lauren, in preparation for the murder. That was planning, not snapping.
The bells were also planned, of course. Tyra told Gilroy she liked the “irony” of bells tolling for Lauren the church worker, tolling at the church where a pastor’s big mouth and nosy invitation to counseling threatened to ruin her and her mother’s life. The bells were fitting, and so easy to hack. Alison had blabbed about them, their fascinating mechanics, and the computer program that controlled them so often that Tyra knew she could get them to ring on command if she could plant remote software on Ackley’s computer. So she took a flash drive loaded with the software to Ackley’s office. As she had suspected, the pastor’s computer password was a piece of cake: StJohns.
Tyra had mistimed the murder, and the bells rang several minutes after Lauren’s death, but she claimed that didn’t bother her much. All in all, everything went much better than she had hoped.
To hear it from Tyra, she had never wanted to kill the pastor. But having shoved a poker into Lauren’s neck, she couldn’t stop there, could she? What was done, was done. It was prison for her if the pastor talked, and it was humiliation for her and her parents if Lauren talked.
Though Pastor Ackley had it coming, she told Gilroy. He should never have agreed to counseling her father—to sticking his nose in her father’s business. He owned some of the blame for his own death.
When they met in the graveyard, Tyra said, Ackley told her he had proof that she had hacked the bells. A longtime church volunteer happened to mention seeing a woman who fit Tyra’s description in St. John’s a day before the murder. The woman couldn’t be certain, but this stranger appeared to be coming out of the pastor’s office.
Normally, seeing someone walk out of an office door wasn’t memorable, certainly not worth mentioning, but in Tyra’s case it was notable because the only other time she had been anywhere in St. John’s was that day, years ago, when she’d visited the bell tower with her parents. The office worker remembered wondering who the young woman with the long brown hair was and why she was looking over her shoulder and scurrying out of the church.
As Ackley told Tyra, he realized he knew who that young woman was. He remembered her from years ago, in the bell tower. And her father, worried she would find out about his addiction, had talked about her in his counseling session. He’d shown Ackley a wallet photo and said he could never get this daughter to attend St. John’s, though she sometimes visited Wild Rose Cottage behind the church. She would be there that very weekend, he’d said, for a book club meeting.
