Midnight Spells Murder Read online

“We won’t know for sure until it’s been tested,” Brady explained. “But it looks like blood.”

  “Blood?” repeated Zo. “No one’s been hurt.”

  The hum of their radios was the only response.

  She felt as if she were on another planet, observing a new life form for the first time. Why weren’t they speaking? Then it struck her. They weren’t thinking about a possible break-in anymore. They were thinking about Marianne. It was her blood on the tool. At least that’s what they assumed, and Zo did, too. Marianne was struck in the head. This could be the murder weapon.

  “Wait,” said Zo. “Do you think this was the weapon used to kill Marianne?”

  “We’ll know for sure once we test it for DNA,” said Brady.

  “I don’t understand.” Zo shook her head. “What’s it doing here?”

  “I think you’d better come down to the station with me.”

  “Why?”

  “To give your statement,” Brady answered.

  “I didn’t do this,” pleaded Zo. “You searched my place the night Marianne was found. Remember? Why wasn’t it here then?”

  “Lots of criminals wait to get rid of the evidence,” said the officer. “They stuff it in their garbage cans a week after. Morons, most of them.”

  “Quiet, Officer Bates.” Brady cleared his throat. “Get your shoes, Zo. I’ll wait outside.”

  “I can’t go in my robe!” Zo protested. “I need to get dressed.”

  “You have five minutes.”

  Zo fled inside, running up the stairs and nearly tripping over George, who was waiting on the landing. What about the tick? What about his vet appointment? She pushed away the worry. She was getting arrested. The vet appointment would definitely need to happen later.

  George followed her into the bedroom, jumping on the dresser. He tucked his orange paws under his body. His chest puffed out like a lion’s mane. Think of my health. He relayed the concern with the flick of his eyes. I nearly missed my bath tonight.

  “Ha!” said Zo, throwing on a Beatles t-shirt. “I’m going to jail. J-A-I-L. I might waste away in a cell for the rest of my days. Then who would take care of you?”

  He closed his eyes. Her welfare didn’t concern him.

  She pulled on jogging pants and tied her hair into a short ponytail. Grabbing her purse, she thought about stopping to brush her teeth, but then popped a piece of gum in her mouth instead. Brady wasn’t the type of person to be kept waiting. If she didn’t want to be hauled off in handcuffs, she needed to hurry.

  Brady was waiting for her by his police cruiser. Bates and another officer were still combing the area for clues. Someone had obviously planted the evidence at her house. Couldn’t Brady see that? It had to be the man in the hat near her store. He must have dumped the evidence near the garbage, arousing enough suspicion for someone to call the anonymous tip line. Safely tucked in the back of his squad car, Zo told Brady the idea.

  “The man in the hat. Isn’t that from a child’s cartoon?”

  She huffed a breath. He wasn’t convinced and kept checking the rearview mirror, as if she might pull open the door any moment. Like a criminal.

  “You described the man as lumbering,” said Brady. “Unless you were using one of your fancy journalist words to impress me, that doesn’t sound like a man fleeing the scene of a crime.”

  True, but George was spooked. That was enough to cause alarm. She wasn’t going to bring it up, however. She didn’t want to mention George in the same sentence as the man with the hat. Brady was right; both names came from a child’s cartoon. “The man was large. He couldn’t move quickly. That doesn’t mean he didn’t want to.”

  That earned her another look.

  “Think about it,” Zo said. “Why did the tool show up just now? Why wasn’t it found the night of Marianne’s murder? Someone put it there.”

  “Save it for your statement, Ms. Jones.” Brady turned into the station. “We haven’t confirmed it’s the murder weapon.”

  But they would. She was certain of it. Where would that leave her? Marianne was found near the store—by Zo. If the weapon was, too, she would face arrest. That’s why Brady was collecting her statement at the station. He wanted everything to be official in case it went to trial.

  Brady helped her out of the backseat.

  “What about Marianne’s missing purse?” Zo asked. “You said it might have been a robbery gone bad.” The last-ditch effort was just as desperate as it sounded.

  He held open the door to the station. “That was before I found a tire iron with blood on it at your store. This way.”

  By the time she finished giving her statement, the sky was no longer black. It was periwinkle, the color it turned right before dawn. As far as she was concerned, it might as well have been bright yellow. There was no way she would be able to sleep, even if she could, which she couldn’t. First, she was too upset about Brady Merrigan hauling her down to the station. After all they’d been through in the last year, how could he think she’d harm Marianne? She knew he was just doing his job, but the implication stung. Second, she had to open Happy Camper in a few hours. Sleep would have to wait.

  She unlocked the door to her house. What she needed was a strong cup of coffee—many cups of strong coffee. Much had to be done, including clearing her name, and it could only be achieved with an alert mind. Flipping open her laptop, Zo waited for the pot of java to brew. She also turned on the TV, wondering if last night’s commotion would be covered on the news. Jake had to be the one who placed the weapon at her store. He was the only person who came to mind. He was large, like the man in the hat. Plus he had the most to gain from Marianne’s death. But why now?

  The start of the morning news program told her why: Justin Castle. His special report was being plugged—again. She returned to the kitchen and poured a mug of coffee. Jake was following Justin’s program. He’d told her as much when she and Max were at his house. Planting evidence at Happy Camper would compound her guilt, and the cops would have no choice but to arrest her. All roads would lead back to her and away from him. It was a splendid way for him to ditch the evidence and incriminate someone else.

  She held her mug, allowing the brew to awaken her senses before taking a sip. If she was to get anything done, she needed to focus on the things she could control, like her column. Harriet Hobbs wouldn’t allow a little thing like a murder investigation to get between her and a deadline. She needed the article tomorrow, no exceptions.

  After a few swallows, Zo opened her document and added Spirits & Spirits’ event to the article. At least one person had received their Christmas wish: Duncan. He would be playing his guitar after all. Scrolling down the page, Zo realized it was still short. Dang. She was missing the police station’s fundraiser. The last person she wanted to see again was Brady Merrigan. She’d just spent the last hour with him under not-so-nice circumstances. But there was nothing else to do but talk to him. She couldn’t finish her column until she did.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  After a shower with lots of pumpkin latte bodywash, Zo opened Happy Camper. Today was Thankful Thursday, and she’d needed the seasonal scent to brighten her mood. The entire town would be shopping for deals. Downtown vendors put out their best bargains in what amounted to a Crazy Days sale before the cold weather set in. It was their way of saying thank you to shoppers who spent their dollars downtown. With the lure of shopping online, from the comfort of their couches, shoppers were encouraged to spend and save locally.

  Zo had an assortment of gifts on sale, including her fall items, which everybody loved. Signs like Happy Fall Y’all and Stop and Smell the Pumpkin Spice would go quickly, especially at thirty percent off. Harley would be in after her morning class, thank goodness. She said she didn’t have an afternoon lab, but Zo wondered. She hoped she wasn’t skipping out on it because of the event. The store would only get busi
er as the holidays approached. She didn’t want Harley cutting class just to help out.

  Hattie Fines was her first customer, which was a surprise. The library held a used book sale today. She should have been happily ensconced in well-worn books. Zo questioned her about it.

  “Two words,” answered Hattie. “Agnes Butterfield.”

  Zo carried a miniature haystack to a table of merchandise. “The new library employee?”

  “That’s the one.” Hattie slipped her glasses on her nose, and her eyes magnified to twice their size. They were round and light blue like faded tea saucers. “She’s turned the library into my own Puritanical Hades.”

  Zo set down the merchandise. “I’m sure that’s overstating it.”

  “But I’m not here to talk about her.” She handed Zo a piece of paper. “She’s the last person I want to talk about,” she added under her breath.

  Zo examined the printout. “What’s this?”

  “You said you wanted to find your birth mother.” Hattie gestured to the sheet. “This might help you out. It’s a list of plays that performed around the time you were given away.”

  Hattie had been there for her in so many ways through the years: librarian, mentor, friend. Zo would never forget the time she’d helped her obtain her first library card. Zo was sixteen and Hattie had waived the parental consent. It shouldn’t surprise her that she’d go out of her way to help her again. This time was different, though. Zo wasn’t sure Hattie wanted her to pursue this mystery. Still, here she was, giving her information that might help her. Zo gave her an impulsive hug. “Thank you, Hattie!”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” said Hattie into Zo’s shoulder. “It may be nothing.”

  “Even if it isn’t, it’s the thought that counts. It’s a great idea.” She explained Nikki’s offer to look through old playbills. “Nikki said the theater is a mess right now from the renovation, and I’m sure hundreds of papers are in the box. This will save me so much time. That is, if I’m not in jail.”

  Hattie frowned, and Zo told her about last night’s trouble.

  “Leave it up to Chief Merrigan to haul you down to the station,” grumbled Hattie. “He didn’t need to do that. He didn’t the night you found Marianne.”

  “I think he wants it to be official. In case…” Rearranging a flowerpot on the sale table, Zo let the idea trail off. “I’m going to talk to Max today. He’ll know what it means.”

  “You talk to him quite a bit these days.” She sneaked a glance in Zo’s direction.

  Zo noticed. “That’s because he’s always coming in here to bug me about a sticker or license or something.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Zo crossed her arms, trying to keep the smile from her face. “I suppose you’re going to tell me what you think.”

  “I think you’re falling for him.”

  Avoiding Hattie’s stare, Zo hung a Happy Camper birdhouse on a hook. She hated to put them on clearance, but with winter on the way, fewer people would be buying them. Winter was the perfect time to care for the birds, but customers didn’t always see it that way.

  “I think it started after he saved George,” added Hattie.

  “You’re right about one thing,” Zo agreed. “He’s my hero for saving George. And he did it again last night.” She told Hattie about the tick. She didn’t tell her about the kiss.

  “And speak of the devil, here he comes.” Hattie nodded to Max, who was walking in the store, along with a passel of customers. He stood out as the only man in the group.

  Zo might have forgotten all about the sale if she stared at Max long enough. The only thing on her mind right now was last night’s kiss. Until Hattie cleared her throat. Then Zo dusted off her hands and tried to look busy. She rearranged more merchandise.

  “You already moved that,” said Hattie with a grin. “I liked it better over there.”

  “How’s the book sale going at the library?” asked Zo, changing the topic. “Shouldn’t you be overseeing it?”

  Hattie’s one-word answer was “Yes.”

  “Good morning, ladies,” greeted Max. “How’s George today?”

  “Much better,” said Zo.

  “And you?” asked Max.

  “She’s not that great,” Hattie informed him. “She was arrested last night.”

  Zo hushed her. Customers were approaching. “Not arrested. Brady took me down to the station to give a statement.” She lowered her voice. “They found the murder weapon outside Happy Camper.”

  “You’re kidding me. I can’t believe Merrigan didn’t tell me.” He shook his head. “Actually, I can. I’m not surprised at all. This is why I’m the town’s tick remover.”

  “There are worse things,” said Hattie. “Just be happy we live in a city with so little crime—or used to. The less you see of Chief Merrigan, the better.”

  “Besides, town tick remover is an important job.” Zo squeezed his arm. “I can’t tell you how much better George feels. He’s back to all his old tricks.” Her impromptu affection couldn’t be helped. Anytime she considered what Max did for George, she wanted to give the ranger a hug. It was a natural reaction.

  “I’m glad to hear George’s feeling better,” said Max. “Not so glad about you being hauled down to the station. Any ideas who planted the weapon?”

  Zo was pleased they were on the same page. At least one law enforcement officer was on her side. “A man in a baseball cap was outside my house not long before the police came. It might have been Jake Morgan. He’s the same size as the man I saw.”

  Max looked as if he was running the scenario in his mind. His eyes were thoughtful, focused on a point in the distance.

  Just then, Cunningham entered the store. “What was all the commotion last night? I saw the police cars.”

  Zo put a finger to her lips. She didn’t want her trouble with the police announced to one and all at the sale.

  Cunningham stopped in front of them. His white hair was combed in a handsome wave, and he wore a dark navy sweater with a brown button at the round collar. His scruffy eyebrows were another matter. “Hattie Fines. What a lovely surprise. Red becomes you.”

  Hattie smoothed her red fall jacket. Now it was Zo’s turn to smirk. Cunningham had been chasing after Hattie for a while now, but she wasn’t his only pursuit. Zo did think she was his favorite, however.

  “And how about me?” Max smiled. “How do I look?”

  “You always look good in green,” claimed Cunningham. “I thought Zo might be in stripes this morning. What happened?”

  Zo filled him in.

  “Brady can’t go arresting anyone he pleases. Someone needs to show those Merrigans once and for all that they don’t run this town.” Cunningham pointed a finger at Zo. “And you’re just the gal to do it.”

  “First of all, I wasn’t arrested, and second, how do you propose I do that?” asked Zo.

  “Find the killer, and solve the murder,” proclaimed Hattie. “Just like last time.”

  “Hello?” Max interrupted. “I was there, too.”

  “You need to take George to the vet,” said Hattie. “Look around.” She motioned to the customers filling the streets. “Zo is going to be swamped with the sale.”

  Max rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t underestimate the power of your work, Max.” Cunningham cleared his throat. His voice turned professorial. “John Muir once said ‘The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.’”

  “I love that,” said Zo.

  Cunningham pointed to her merchandise. “Maybe you could put it on one of your birdhouses.”

  “But seriously, can you take George to the vet?” Zo asked Max. “Harley won’t be in for a couple hours, and I need to keep the store open for the sale.”

  Max checked his waterproof watch. It also had a compass on it
and other gauges that helped him navigate the forest. “I have thirty minutes. I can see if Dr. Iron Cloud will give him a quick look.”

  “Would you? That would be wonderful.” She turned to Hattie. “Can you watch the store for a sec while we get George?”

  “I’ll keep her company,” Cunningham added.

  Zo bet he would. She led the way while Max called the vet, who said Max could bring George right over for a quick peek. When he ended the call, she said, “I can’t thank you enough for doing this.” She grabbed George’s carrier from her laundry room. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

  “How are you going to do that?” he asked.

  She put the carrier on the kitchen table, scrunching up her nose. “A Happy Camper gift card?”

  “I was thinking of something a little more personal.”

  The comment caught her by surprise.

  “That came out wrong.” His cheeks flushed, making him look incredibly wholesome and handsome.

  “I knew what you meant,” she said with a smile. Putting her hand on his jaw, she gave him the briefest of kisses. It was meant to be a joke, a payment for taking George to the vet, but electricity danced on her lips even as she put George into the carrier. She was playing with fire and knew it. She’d better stop before she got burned.

  She handed him the crate. George growled.

  Max tucked the jar with the tick in his jacket pocket. “I’ll bring George back safe and sound.”

  “I know you will,” said Zo. “Thanks again.”

  Thirty minutes later, he returned George with a clean bill of health—and a report of his bad behavior. A fellow forest ranger had brought in a stray German shepherd with a hurt paw, but George wouldn’t cooperate long enough for Max to look into the situation.

  Zo wrapped up a customer’s candle as she listened. She was offering free holiday wrap for the sale, and customers loved all the colorful options. Zo’s favorite was the one that said Happy Christmas! in blue-and-white letters. “But the dog is going to be okay?”

  Max put his finger in the middle of the tie while she did up the bow. “I’m going to check back later. George didn’t exactly give me a chance to ask.”