“I’ll write up a proposal,” he said and turned toward the gate.

  “Ralph, I have a question for you,” I said and then I realized that I was in the backyard that had a solid wood, eight-foot fence that no one could see over with a possible killer.

  He turned slowly toward me and looked at me without saying a word.

  I swallowed. “Let’s go out front, shall we?” It would have been far too easy for him to pull out a knife and do to me what he may have done to Henry.

  He followed me around front without a word. At the front walk, I turned toward him. “Were you really out fishing the night of Henry’s murder?”

  His face clouded over in anger. “Is that what this is about? You’re wasting my time when I could be working and earning money for my kids?”

  “Oh no, not at all. I really do want to hire a gardener and you were the first one I thought of,” I said trying to smooth things over. “It’s just that the police are having such a hard time finding the killer.”

  “And you think it’s me?” He said, his voice getting louder. “Lady, you are crazy! I don’t have time for this mess!”

  I’ve been called that before.

  “Am I, Ralph?” I said and whipped out the piece of paper I had tucked into my hoodie pocket earlier. I held it out to him so he could see it. “You owed Henry Hoffer money and I think you killed him when he tried to collect.” My heart was pounding in my chest and I glanced around to see if there were any witnesses just in case Ralph decided to shut me up permanently. The street was empty, and I silently cursed my timing.

  Ralph took three steps toward me and grabbed the paper out of my hand. He looked it over and his face turned the color of beets. “Listen you, you don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. I already told you where I was.”

  He tossed the paper on the ground and stormed back to his truck. He started the engine and pulled away, leaving rubber behind on the street.

  He didn’t even give me an estimate.

  15

  *****

  “I think there’s someone you should investigate,” I said, sitting across from Detective Blanchard. He had a small office at the police station that was nearly empty. A small desk sat facing the door and there were two folding metal visitor’s chairs in front of the desk. Fancy.

  He sat and looked at me without saying a word at first. I couldn’t tell if he was mad or if he just wanted me to disappear. After a few moments had passed, I decided he really just wanted me to disappear.

  “Well? Aren’t you going to ask me who?” I asked when he remained silent.

  I had hurried right over after Ralph had left my house. I didn’t want to waste any time in case he had gone home to plan my murder and would be back this evening to carry it out.

  “Sure. Go ahead and tell me who you suspect,” he said much too calmly, folding his hands on his desk.

  I sat up straighter and leaned forward. “Ralph Henderson.”

  He didn’t blink an eye, only continued looking at me.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me why I suspect him?” I asked.

  “Why do you suspect him?” he complied.

  He was really beginning to bug me. “Because Henry Hoffer was a bookie and Ralph Henderson had a bad bet he didn’t have the money to pay for. I think.”

  “Where did you get this information?” he asked, still not looking interested.

  I pulled out the file I had taken from Henry’s restaurant and laid it on the desk. It’s funny, but until that moment, I hadn’t thought about the fact that I had stolen the file the night Lucy and I had broken in to the restaurant. The same break in I had denied to Detective Blanchard had ever occurred. I had just laid the evidence of that little crime on his desk in front of him. I forced myself to smile and looked him in the eye like nothing was amiss.

  He slowly reached for the file and opened it up and began leafing through the papers. Then he looked at me again. “How did you come by this file?”

  I looked at a picture hanging on the wall behind him. “My that is a nice picture of a sunset.”

  “Allie, I asked you where you got this file,” he said not even looking at the picture.

  “A little bird gave it to me.”

  He sighed. “Well, you might tell that little bird that breaking and entering and burglary are very serious crimes.”

  “I did not burgle anything!” I protested.

  “Taking something that doesn’t belong to you is burglary when you break and enter,” he informed me, opening the file back up and looking through it again.

  “Well, I didn’t do it,” I said. “But I think you need to investigate Ralph.”

  “I don’t see anything that points to Ralph Henderson,” he said.

  I reached over and pulled out the paper that had the initials RH on it. “See? Those are his initials!”

  “Those could be anyone’s initials,” he pointed out. “This really doesn’t prove anything.”

  “Plus he has a very bad temper,” I said, grasping at proverbial straws. “I mean, he loses it super fast. Within seconds.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. Many people have short fuses and I would imagine having someone accuse them of a crime that they probably didn’t commit would make anyone angry.”

  “Well, he said he was fishing, but of course he was fishing by himself, so he has no alibi,” I pointed out.

  “Fishing by oneself is not a crime. Not like some other crimes I can think of.”

  I stared at him. Was he trying to be difficult, or did it just come naturally?

  “And besides, these are bookie sheets. Henry Hoffer was the one making the bets,” he explained. “Ralph is a gardener. If he were a bookie, he wouldn’t need to garden.”

  “Well, well, you don’t really know everything until you go and talk to him,” I sputtered, beginning to feel flustered. I had been so sure that Henry was the bookie. “But how do you know for sure that Henry wasn’t the bookie?”

  “I just explained that to you. And I want to warn you, Allie. You are treading on dangerous ground. You committed a crime to get this information and then you stole it. There’s no way this would ever hold up in court now,” he said leveling his gaze at me.

  “Well, if I hadn’t done that, then we wouldn’t have this information,” I protested.

  “We might have had this information if you had left the file alone so that I could have had access to it. I think we might be able to add obstruction of justice to the list of crimes you’ve committed.”

  I swallowed hard. “I was only trying to help,” I whimpered.

  “We’re dealing with a murderer,” he said a little more softly. “You’re putting yourself in danger.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t need to do that if you weren’t trying to hang this murder on me,” I defended.

  “I assure you, I am not trying to hang a murder on anyone. I’m simply trying to do my job and take a murderer off the streets,” he said, closing the file again.

  “Well, I’m not a murderer,” I said, clutching my handbag tightly to my chest.

  “Probably not. But I still have to do my job,” he pointed out.

  “Fine. Do your job then,” I answered, sticking my lower lip out a little.

  He sighed again. I knew I was trying his patience, but I didn’t care. I needed to clear my name.

  “I will certainly do my best,” he said.

  “And you’ll talk to Ralph Henderson?”

  He eyed me. “Only if you promise not to interfere with case and not to steal any more evidence.”

  I smiled. “Deal.”

  16

  *****

  “This. Seriously. Sucks.” Lucy gasped out each word.

  “You’ll get used to it,” I said evenly as we jogged slowly along the running path. I had finally talked her into coming along with me. It was the raisin apple sour cream pie that finally did it. She had over-indulged and gained four pounds over night. I was going to point out it was impossible to gain that much overnight but thought better of it when she volunteered to run with me. At the pace we were going, I would have to run again after I dropped her off at her house so I could get a real run in.

  “Well, it seriously sucks,” she said slowing to a walk and breathing hard.

  “It takes a while, but it will get easier,” I said. “The benefits are so worth it.”

  “Do you think Detective Blanchard will interrogate Ralph?” she asked through gasps. I had filled her in on my findings on the way to the running trail.

  “I certainly hope so. He has such a bad temper, I’m sure he is the murderer,” I said, taking a swig from my water bottle.

  “You should have had me there for backup. That was really dangerous.”

  “I know, but I wanted to get the information as soon as possible and I knew you were working at the time.” I also thought she might have gotten a little wild with the accusations when Ralph got there. I had wanted to try to get information from him. Not that it really turned out that way. But with Ralph’s temper, it was a risk to do what I did. I agreed with her on that.

  “Hey, is that that handsome detective over there?” she said pointing to a lone figure coming toward us. He was running along at what looked like a good clip, head held high with good form.

  “Maybe,” I said. I had no idea if Detective Blanchard ran or not.

  We walked along so that Lucy could catch her breath and the runner headed toward us. It did look like the detective from this distance.

  When he got close to us, he slowed to a walk.

  “Good morning, Detective,” Lucy sang out. I rolled my eyes. She seemed to be missing the fact that this man was still trying to hang a murder on me and if he felt like it, he could also charge me with the laundry list of crimes he had accused me of the previous day.

  “Good morning,” he replied. I noticed he wasn’t breathing very hard and that he appeared to be in good shape. He looked at me and nodded his greeting.

  “Good morning. Did you get a chance to speak to Ralph Henderson?” I asked. No use beating around the bush, we all knew it was the question I wanted answered.

  He glanced at Lucy and then turned back to me. “Indeed I did. Turns out he wasn’t fishing at all.”

  “I knew it!” I gloated.

  “Turns out he was at the hospital, watching his baby being born,” he said.

  “What? That doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie and say he was fishing?” I exclaimed.

  “Wait a minute, I know Ralph’s wife from the PTA. She’s older than I am. No way was she having a baby,” Lucy said, pointing at the detective. “He’s lying! He has no alibi, and he committed the murder!” She looked at me and nodded.

  “Yeah, it’s just like I said!” I said. I wanted justice and I wanted it now.

  “That’s correct. Ralph Henderson’s wife did not have a baby,” he said just as seriously as he said everything else. I wondered if this guy even had a sense of humor. He certainly never showed it if he did.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. And then it dawned on me. “Seriously?”

  He nodded. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but Ralph was not the killer.”

  “Well, do you know this for sure? He could be lying.”

  “I know this for sure,” he said confidently.

  “I don’t get it,” Lucy said, eyebrows furrowed.

  “Well, what other leads do you have?” I asked. “Is there a person of interest?” I had to know that I wasn’t that person of interest. I wasn’t sure if he would tell me or not though. He wasn’t one to talk much.

  “I really can’t divulge that kind of information,” he said, giving me a level gaze. “And I want to repeat my warning about not getting involved in the investigation.” He gave Lucy the evil eye, but she was still trying to figure things out.

  I put my hands on my hips. He sure was bossy. “I got it already.”

  “Do I make myself clear?” he said to Lucy.

  “Huh? Yeah, sure,” she said. “I wish I knew what was going on here.”

  “Good. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you round,” he said and took off down the trail in the direction he had been going.

  “Oh! I get it now!” Lucy said. “Ol’ Ralph had someone on the side.”

  I rolled my eyes and started walking. “I can’t imagine who would want to.”

  “Some women are desperate,” she said, following my lead.

  “I guess that explains why he got so mad when I questioned him about that night,” I said. “He didn’t want anyone to know what he had been up to.”

  “It’s kind of sweet, really,” Lucy said, taking a drink from her water bottle.

  “Sweet? How so?” I asked.

  “Well, one soul was lost that night, but another one came into the world. Oh, do you believe in reincarnation? Maybe that baby is Henry!”

  “Oh, Lucy, please! That’s a fairy tale. No one believes in reincarnation.” I said. “I guess it’s back to the drawing board.”

  “Yeah, but who else could have done it? I wonder if Ralph would have had enough time to commit the murder and then get back to the hospital in time for the baby to be born? Labor can go on forever. He would have had plenty of time,” she said.

  “Maybe. But you know Detective Blanchard isn’t going to answer anymore questions where Ralph is concerned,” I said. “We’ll just have to go back over what we already know and try to figure this out. I’ll check out that Elvis show Charles said he was putting on. He might have had time to get back and do the deed or he could have done it earlier in the evening.”

  This all was very worrying. If the other two suspects were cleared, then that left me. And I didn’t have an alibi.

  17

  *****

  Henry’s Home Cooking restaurant re-opened on Wednesday and I decided to drop by. I was curious as to how business would be now that everyone knew a murder was committed there. I pulled into the parking lot and the place was packed. I should have known. It was a small town and everyone wanted to know all the gruesome details. The town I had grown up in Alabama had been a little bigger than Sandy Harbor and it was the same there. Everyone wanted to know all the gossip.

  I could still smell pine cleaner when I entered the restaurant. Maybe the smell was permanent now. Most of the booths were filled as well as most of the tables. Most people only had coffee or soft drinks in front of them. Figures. They were probably all wondering how they could get a tour of the kitchen.

  I was surprised to see Henry’s widow working the cash register. She had a smile on her face and was chatting with people as she took their payments. She seemed incredibly relaxed and happy. Hmmm…maybe I had overlooked a suspect. If my husband had been murdered, the last place I would want to be was the scene of the crime. I also wouldn’t want to answer questions from the town’s nosy Nellies.

  I went to her. “Good morning, Cynthia, how are you doing?”

  I saw a hint of something in her eyes, but she recovered quickly. “I’m well, Allie, how are you?”

  “Good. I just wanted to check in on you. I’ve been thinking about you and saying a few prayers.”

  She looked grateful. “Oh, thank you so much, Allie. I do appreciate that. I feel kind of lost. I checked out your blog. It’s been very helpful.”

  Now I felt like a heel. I smiled at her. “I’m so glad to hear that. If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know, will you? You know, if you just want to talk?”

  “I may take you up on that, Allie,” she said.

  She showed me to a table, and I realized I could see Charles in the kitchen through the pass through. He glanced in my direction and I waved. He stopped stirring the pot he had been working on and stared at me. Then he shook his head and looked away.

  I looked over the menu even though I knew what I wanted. I heard a familiar voice and looked up from the menu to see Martha Newberry standing near the register talking to Cynthia. Tucked under her arm was something pink. I wondered if she had cleaned this morning. I also wondered who had cleaned up the blood in the kitchen. I shuddered. I didn’t know if Martha had it in her to continue working here after what she had seen that morning of Henry’s death. I know I wouldn’t.

  Eileen Smith took my order, and I played on my phone until my food arrived. I had a notification of comments left on my blog so I signed in to read them. There were a couple of nice notes from people I didn’t know and one from the woman coming up on the first anniversary of her husband’s death. I was glad I could help people feel better at a time when things were so difficult for them.

  My heart stopped when I read the last comment.

  Don’t think you’ll get away with what you did. Justice will prevail. And if the justice system doesn’t take care of you, I will.

  My heart came pounding back to life. and I had to fight for that first breath. Breathe, I told myself. I glanced around the restaurant to see if anyone was watching me, but no one was looking in my direction. It was probably someone just being a jerk, I thought. But why would the murderer send me messages like this?

  I needed to show these comments to Detective Blanchard. But then, he would question me harder, wouldn’t he? He might think that this person knew I was the killer. And if this person knew, or thought they knew, then that might be enough for Detective Blanchard to take a closer look at me. Since I had no real alibi, I couldn’t defend myself. Maybe that was what the murderer wanted me to do. Tell the detective so it would keep him from looking at them. I wasn’t sure what to do at this point.

  I left my breakfast untouched and went to find Lucy. My mind was in a panic and I needed a clearer head to help me decide whether I should tell Detective Blanchard about this or not.

  18

  *****

  I realized that Lucy was at her part-time job so I went home and texted her to come over as soon as she got off. I made tea while I waited and watched the hands of the clock make their way around it.

 

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