Thrown Off: A Cozy Mystery (Brenna Battle Book 3) (12 page)

There really wasn’t any way around it. I was going to have to tell Will how I’d spent my evening—dangling from Hayley's balcony. And as an added bonus, I was going to have to accuse someone who had an alibi. I was pretty sure it was all going to make me sound real reliable. You know, like the kind of person a grounded, responsible guy would want to have an ongoing relationship with.

20

My phone buzzed with a text message from Blythe.
 

“Where are you?”

I had to answer, before she called the police and found out I was already there. “At the police station.”

“What are you doing there?”

I didn’t answer. I could say,
Talking to Will
, and that would technically be true. But I’d kept enough from my sister, and she was going to be mad enough when she found out. For good reason.
Sigh.

“Are you snooping again?”

Great. She knew me too well.

“Brenna?”

“Maybe,” I replied.

“I can’t believe this!!!!”

I texted back, “They took Carlos in for questioning right before me. He’s the prime suspect.”

“What? Why? I should come down.”

“NO! I’m fine. I’ll fill you in when I get home. Don’t wait up.”

“Yeah, right.”

I turned my phone off and slipped it back into the jogging strap on my arm. I filled a paper cup with coffee. I needed to fortify myself for my upcoming confession. I was a hopeless snoop. Bonney Bay had done it to me, I guess. I used to be the kind of person who minded her own business. Hey, I didn’t even try to talk Blythe out of marrying Jake. Never mind that in that particular case, I probably should have said something. Okay, I should’ve said a lot of things, before she even started dating him.

The coffee actually smelled pretty good. It looked nice and dark, too. Traveling the world had turned me into a coffee snob. Almost like a native Northwesterner. I loved how there was not only an espresso stand on every street corner in Washington State, but every restaurant I’d been to served their coffee good and strong. Could it be that even police station coffee was good here?

I swirled the black coffee in my cup like a fine wine and took a sip. Not bad. But I preferred my coffee with lots of cream and a little bit of sugar. I pawed through the little basket of sugar and artificial sweetener packets on the counter, hoping for one of those little cup-like packages of creamer. I found a package of powdered creamer and chucked it back in disgust. Powdered creamer is an absolute abomination. Then I spotted it—the pot of gold! One of those stainless steel carafes. The label affixed to it read,
half-and-half
.
Yes!
I picked it up, praying that it was full.
Yes
, again! I began to tip the carafe in order to pour creamy deliciousness into my coffee.

There was a
Plop!
Black coffee flew over me in a scalding wave, followed by an avalanche of half-and-half. The carafe’s plastic lid had fallen into my cup. Someone had left it completely unscrewed.

“Dang it!” I put down the cup and the carafe and grabbed a fistful of paper towels from the dispenser above the sink. I dabbed at my T-shirt and shorts, then mopped up the creamy coffee cascading off the counter.
 

Laughter reverberated through the walls.
 

Will appeared in the doorway. “Tony! This isn’t funny!” he said over his shoulder.

Officer Pfeiffer joined him in the doorway. “Yes, it is. Look at her!”

“We’re investigating a murder.” There was no trace of anything but sternness in Officer Riggins’s tone.

This was bad. Very bad. Will always had a sense of humor. I knew Will would’ve chided Tony anyway, but he would’ve laughed at me first. Or at least smirked. My humiliation evaporated completely. He was so mad at me, he couldn’t even laugh at my expense.

Tony held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. Just trying to have a little fun.”

I fished the creamer lid out of my cup and plunked it down on the wad of paper towels. I turned to Tony and sipped my very creamy coffee nonchalantly, trying to convince those two—and myself—that I wasn’t on the verge of being completely sucked down the toilet of dread swirling in my gut. “You left the lid loose for the next person, didn’t you? Very funny.”
 

Tony smirked. “Would I do that?”

I nodded behind me. “I’ll let you clean up your own mess.”

Tony scowled.

“Ready?” I asked Will.

He nodded. I followed him into a bare little room. It looked familiar. Probably because it looked an awful lot like rooms I’d seen on TV and in movies—interrogation rooms. Only, this one seemed much smaller. Too small. Like,
I-never-thought-I-had-claustrophobia before, but-this-room-just-might-change-that
small.

“Have a seat.” He gestured at a hard plastic chair.

I sat down and took a calming sip of coffee. He sat across the little table from me. It was small enough I could reach out and hold his hand. Somehow, I doubted Officer Riggins was thinking about holding my hand. Why did he have to bring me here to ask me questions? To make it look official to everyone else? Or to send me a message about how serious this was.? Or…because I was going to be charged for Withholding Evidence or whatever they called what I had done?

Not to mention the trespassing and peeping Officer Riggins didn’t even know about yet.
 

“First, let me remind you, this is on the official record. Everything you tell me in here will be recorded.”

I got the message. Or, messages I guess—
Don’t lie to me
and
Nothing personal. Don’t you dare say anything personal.
But suddenly that was all I wanted to do. Not lie, but say something personal. Say lots of personal things.

“Officer Riggins.”

“Yes?”

“I need to tell you something. Off the record.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way.”

I laid my hands on the table. “Fine. On the record, then.”

“Go ahead,” he said dryly.

All the more reason I had to say what I had to say. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, and—I love you, Will.”

“What?”

I watched his face. It crumpled a little, frown-like, but then he masked it. A mask. I didn’t even know Will had a mask. A match face, just like me. He must save it for the perps. And right now, I was some perp, getting questioned. I looked away. I felt all my energy, all my willpower, fade away. “I think I love you,” I said numbly. “Not that I know anything about that,” I muttered under my breath.

“About what?”

“Love.”

“What are you doing, Brenna? Do you really think this is going to get you out of trouble?”

“What?” I jerked my head back up.

Will shook his head. “You talked to Carlos. Tell me about that.” All professional again.

I blinked at him, suddenly questioning everything. Who he was. Who I was. What I was doing here. “Right. That’s why I’m here.”

I told him how Lourdes had messaged me. I made it clear that Blythe knew nothing about what Lourdes and Carlos had told me. I told him about the missing clothes and shoes and about Carlos’s scholarship.

My mind was reeling. My heart ached as I recounted every detail, down to Lourdes’s famous green salsa.
I told Will I love him. I actually said it. And he didn’t say it back.
The thought just wouldn’t stop shooting through my mind, piercing my pride—and worse. I felt it—the urge to slip back into cold competitor mode. I felt so safe there. Powerful. Invulnerable.
 

But I knew. Something in my hurting heart knew, I shouldn’t go there. No matter how mad I was at Will. No matter how the Disney Princess within had wanted him to cry out,
I love you too! I thought you’d never say it!
I had to learn how to do this. How to face this. There would be no future for Will and me if I didn’t.

“So, you had something to say about Hayley Radiguet, too?” Will said when I was done.

“I think she had something to do with it. I think she, or she and an accomplice, framed Carlos.”

“Because?”

“Because I overheard her talking to someone about it.”

“When was this?”

“Right before I saw you at Lourdes and Carlos’s house. Right before I came here.”

“And where did this take place?”

“Outside Hayley's apartment.”

Will’s look sharpened. “Hayley Radiguet just moved into a second floor apartment.”

“Yeah, well…I was outside her apartment. The conversation took place inside.”

“How exactly did you come to be outside Hayley's apartment, in a position to hear a conversation that took place inside?”

“Well…”

“Miss Battle?”

Miss Battle!
“I was hanging from the balcony, alright?”

Was that just a twinge of a smile? Great. Now he was picturing me hanging there like an idiot. But, at least he was feeling something other than just mad, he was letting Will back out from behind the Officer Riggins Death Mask. And he knew where Hayley had moved, down to the fact that she was on the second floor. “How’d you know she moved, anyway? Have you been keeping tabs on her?” I asked hopefully.

“That’s official police business.”

“Of course.” There was only a teensy bit of sarcasm in my tone, I swear.

“So, tell me about this conversation you overheard.”

I told him. “And I’m sure she was talking about me when she said, ‘But she got out? Someone let her out? Too bad. Well at least that’ll teach her to mind her own business.’”

“Wait. I thought you said that conversation was about Millie.”

“That’s what I thought at first. It was what they were talking about when Hayley said, ‘I’m glad she’s gone. Dead and gone.’ But then I realized they were also talking about me getting shut in the freezer.”

“Shut in the freezer.”

Time for Incredibly Embarrassing Story Number Two. This was just lovely. Absolutely lovely. “Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. “Someone shut me in the freezer at the Cherry Bowl because they didn’t want me finding out who killed Millie.”

I told my story and answered his questions. Finally he said, “Okay, I think that’s all.”

“Are we off the record now, then?”

“Yes.”

“I know you’re going to investigate. I know you’re going to do your best to find the killer. I know it looks suspicious. I know all that stuff about Hayley—I know it doesn’t mean as much as finding out the killer was wearing Carlos’s clothes. but can’t you let Carlos out and keep this quiet until you’re sure?”

Will raised his eyebrows at me. “We found Carlos’s clothes today. In the bottom of his closet. With paint and what appeared to be blood all over them.”

I felt my mouth drop open. Something else dropped like a rock inside me. The clothes were never missing? But Carlos…and Lourdes…why would they come to me? Why would they involve me in this?

“We won’t press charges until we’re ready. But the way things are looking, that’s going to be very soon. Unless there’s some reason to doubt Carlos did it—something more than his word, something more than the fact that we don’t want to believe it—he’s going to be charged with murder. The jury can take it from there.”

“So, Hayley…”

“We’ll look into it.”

I nodded. Could Carlos really have done it? Killed Millie? Maybe it was an accident. But if that was the case, he’d gotten me involved in this mess, and he was hoping I’d find some innocent person to blame. Would he really do that if it was an accident? Try to make one of his neighbors not only take the blame, but go down for murder?

“I know.” The gentle look was back in Will’s eyes. “It’s hard to imagine. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

I reached out, put my hand on his arm. “I meant what I said before, about how I feel.”

He put his hand over mine. But instead of squeezing it, he carefully pushed it off. “Not now.”

“I just told you—I just—and this is your response?”

“You need to go.” He look at me, and he was all Officer Riggins again.

I gave him a fake salute. “Yes, sir, Officer, sir.”

My match face slipped on. This time I didn’t try to stop it.

21

Blythe threw open the door to our apartment before I could slide my key into the lock.

“Blythe, I’m—”

She held up her hand and shook her head. “Lourdes is here.”

Her message was clear. We’d deal with the fact that I’d been sneaking around, leaving her in the dark, later. Oh, and putting myself at risk. I was pretty sure I’d hear about that one.

I stepped into the tiny living room. “Lourdes?”

From the couch, she waved at me feebly, then blew her nose with a tissue that looked like it had seen a lot of use already. She hiccuped and started to dig in her purse for another one. “I don’t understand. How can Carlos be framed? Why try to pin this on him?”

Blythe handed Lourdes a box of tissues. I sat down beside her. “Lourdes, what if it was an accident?”

“No! He told me, he didn’t touch that ladder! He wouldn’t lie about that. Whoever did this, they sneaked into our house. They stole the clothes. They wore them to kill Millie, and then they put them back in our house.”

“But you said they were missing, after Millie was pushed,” I reminded her gently.

“They
were
missing then.”

“Okay.” Blythe perched on the edge of the coffee table. “Let’s say someone stole the clothes to pose as Carlos. They killed Millie. Why not return the clothes right away, if they wanted to pin it on him?”

“I don’t know. Why would anyone do such a thing in the first place?” Lourdes dissolved into sobs.

Blythe patted her knee, and I slipped my arm around her.

“Maybe they couldn’t get in,” Blythe suggested.

“I don’t know how they got in at all. But it has been so hot. Maybe we left a window open. We tried to be careful, after Carlos found the clothes gone. But maybe we forgot one today or yesterday. He’s my baby brother. My sweet, smart baby brother. How is this happening to him? How can I let this happen? What would Mama say?”

“We’ll do everything we can to figure this out, Lourdes,” I promised.

I half expected Blythe to give me one of her looks, but her compassion won out over common sense and she said, “That’s right. If the police are focused on Carlos, then it’s up to us to do some digging and find out who else they should do a little focusing on.”