Ring In the Year with Murder--An Otter Lake Mystery Page 9

  The door to Matthew’s bedroom was open just a smidge as I passed by. Stanley was still asleep in the middle of the bed like the princess and the pea. Oh, and wasn’t that sweet. Matthew and Jessica were chatting by the fireplace across from his bed. They looked so cozy. Not that I cared. Much. I had way bigger fish to fry.

  I was actually kind of angry that the people of this town would let the rumors get this far. Everyone knew that Candace doted on Grady. She put every picture of him she could up on social media. Just the other day she had posted a photo of him drinking coffee on his snowy porch. Not that I was anonymously stalking her pages or anything. She had blocked me from her social media a while back. And everybody knew that Grady was definitely not the type of guy you needed to be concerned about when it came to breakups. I mean, we had certainly done it enough. It was really easy. We hadn’t even had a real conversation about our last split. Just bam! Broken up. I probably should have asked the twins who was spreading all of this talk in the first place.

  I spotted Freddie walking by the wall of stained-glass windows at the far end of the conservatory with his fingers pyramided under his chin. At the sound of my footsteps he whirled around. “Where have you been? Grady got away from me. I’ve tried texting him, but he’s not answering. And the glass is gone. Maybe we can find whoever cleaned it up. Hopefully it hasn’t been washed yet, or we can get the cloth that—”

  “No. No. No.” I sliced my hands in the air. “There has been a change of plans.”

  Freddie arched an eyebrow.

  “The investigation’s off.” I filled him in on everything the twins had told me. When I finished, he didn’t say anything right away. I prepared myself for the onslaught of protest. I was holding firm though. We couldn’t make things worse for Grady. I mean, that was kind of like a hobby for us given that we were always investigating crimes we shouldn’t be and he was sheriff. But this was personal.

  Finally, Freddie nodded and said, “I can see where you are coming from.”

  “You can?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  I shot him a sideways look. “Really?”

  “Of course,” he said. “I mean, I’m still pretty upset about Stanley, but given this new development, it would be extremely reckless to spread unfounded rumors.”

  Relief washed over me. “Exactly.”

  “I think we should still tell Grady what happened, though, just in case someone really is trying to kill Candace, but otherwise we need to shut this entire operation down.”

  “Great, I—”

  “Well, well, well,” a voice said from behind me. “Erica Bloom.”

  Freddie brushed by me. “We shut everything down just as soon as we talk to him.”

  My stomach dropped as my skeevy meter went through the roof.

  Nuts.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Finally,” Bryson said, pushing himself off the frame of the door he was making a show of casually leaning against. Somehow he always managed to look like the good-looking rich douchebag holding a tennis racket from every eighties high school movie ever made—except, oh wow, now he had grown quite the blond beard. An extensively groomed blond beard. Very hipster. “I have been looking for you everywhere.”

  Bryson. Candace’s ex-boss, now assistant, I guess. He was also one of those guys who always seemed to be asking every female in his path for a hug, pelvis thrust out first.

  “Well, that’s funny, Bryson,” Freddie said walking toward him. “Because it just so happens that we wanted to have a word with you. Glorious beard by the way.”

  “Thanks.” Bryson squinted at Freddie. “Have we…?”

  “Met?” Freddie’s face hardened. “Several times, Bryson. Several times.”

  “Really?” Bryson said with an easy smile. “Help me out here. I’m pulling nothing.”

  I wasn’t the only person that Bryson aggravated to no end. He was terrible at remembering the name or face of anyone he didn’t want something from.

  “It’s Freddie. Freddie Ng.”

  “Freddie…?” Bryson asked, still squinting.

  “We were partners at the chambers of commerce golf tournament?”

  Bryson shook his head. “Still nothing.”

  “I pulled your BMW out of the ditch that one time with my Jimmy?”

  Bryson’s brow contracted. “Sorry, man, I remember going into the ditch. There was a scratch on the passenger door.”

  “Then there was that time—Actually, never mind.” Freddie spun away from him and walked toward me. “I’m out. You’re going to have to sleep with him to see if he knows anything.”

  “What?” I snapped under my breath. “No!”

  “And you say I never want to do what you want to do.”

  I whacked him.

  He smiled then frowned. “You’re right. It’s funny. But it’s not. We are in a very complicated space in history when it comes to men like Bryson.”

  I shot a look over Freddie’s shoulder. Bryson had made himself extremely comfortable on a rattan settee. His arms were spread wide across the top of the seat and his legs … well, he was really taking man-spreading to a whole new level. “And what information are you even talking about?”

  “Candace information?” Freddie said in his isn’t it obvious? voice. “He does work for her.”

  “No,” I said firmly. And when that didn’t seem to have any effect, I tried another, “No.”

  Freddie just stared at me.

  “No!” I shout-whispered. “We are not doing this.”

  “I’m not saying you have to ask him about any poison. Just find out what’s going on with Candace these days. Has he taken any calls for her of a threatening nature? That kind of thing.”

  I sighed.

  “Maybe he can clear up some of these outrageous rumors about Grady.”

  I growled. “Fine. But after this, we go straight to Grady. Or Candace.” I couldn’t keep straight what the heck it was we were supposed to be doing.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.” Freddie grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face Bryson while he whispered in my ear. “Remember to stay calm though. He’s useless to us dead.”

  “Whatever,” I said from the corner of my mouth. “Bryson can’t get to me. He’s not worth it. I’m totally in control.”

  “You’re adorable. I see why he likes you.” He pushed me lightly on the shoulder blades. “Now go. Make Stanley proud.”

  I stumbled toward Bryson.

  “Erica,” he said in an overly deep voice that seemed to have all sorts of implications.

  “Bryson,” I said in a corrective tone.

  “I have been looking forward to seeing you.”

  Oh God. Candace’s words about my being Bryson’s conquest for the evening rang in my ears. I looked up at the ceiling. “Okay, well—”

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Bryson said.

  I lowered my eyes to his.

  “You’re thinking that I am going to proposition you for a night that we both know you would never forget but would ultimately be meaningless in the grand scheme of our lives.”

  “I…”

  Freddie made a retching noise.

  “But that’s not what I have in mind at all,” Bryson said.

  I studied his handsome but douchey face. There was something about him that just looked … pampered, despite the beard, or maybe because of the beard? It was quite disturbing.

  “You see,” he began. “I’ve learned a lot this past year with everything I’ve been through.”

  I cleared my throat. “By everything you’ve been through, are you referring to the fact that you paid locals to cause trouble around Otter Lake to soften up seniors and make them more likely to sell their properties to MRG?” I just wanted to be sure.

  “Not so much,” he said as though he were giving it considerable thought. “More what happened after.” His index finger made a little jump in the air to get to the end of the story.<
br />
  Freddie and I exchanged confused glances.

  “The part where I nearly got fired?”

  “Oh yeah, that is a terrible thing to happen to a person,” I said with a nod. “To almost be fired for doing something illegal.”

  “Well,” he said, frowning like my words had given him stomach troubles. “Unproven illegal. There is a difference.”

  I tipped my chin at him. “Speaking of which, why didn’t you get fired?”

  Freddie piped up. “His uncle is Bill MacDonnel. The M in MRG?”

  “You never told me that,” I said to Freddie with a surprised smile. That just seemed like the kind of thing we would discuss in passing. We spent a lot of time together.

  “Oh yeah, totally.”

  “The point is,” Bryson said really loudly, “I’ve come to appreciate what’s truly important in life. I’ve seen the light.”

  “Oh boy,” Freddie said, throwing his hands in the air. “Clear a path, everybody. He’s coming to Jesus.”

  Bryson smiled. “You are an odd little duck, aren’t you? What did you say your name was?”

  Freddie took a deep breath, spun on his heel, and walked toward the windows. It was probably for the best.

  “Okay, Bryson,” I said, sitting in another rattan chair opposite him. I was perched right on the edge. It never seemed wise to get too relaxed around Bryson. “I’m glad you’ve had this spiritual awakening, but we were just curious—”

  “There I was, just sitting there at my brah’s place in Maine, drinking bourbon, when it hit me. I want something more out of life.” He clenched his fist. “A deeper connection. With someone real. I’m so tired of gorgeous socialites and models. I want someone … normal.”

  I closed my eyes. Oh no.

  “And I think that someone is you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Oh … wow.”

  I heard Freddie snicker behind me.

  Me? Why me—Oh, I think I knew. Maybe it wasn’t the reason Bryson had in his head, but if I had to put money on it, I would guess this had a lot to do with Grady. Otter Lake was a small town. Certainly not big enough for two cocks of the walk … and, that sounded and looked very wrong in my head. Anyway, it really bothered Bryson that there was another equally handsome man in town—with a uniform no less. He was always making jokes about Grady winning the coveted most beautiful baby title three years in a row back in the day. Nobody really laughed with him though. Grady truly was a beautiful baby. And Bryson knew that Grady and I had a history, so if he could claim me, it would be like marking his territory. Huh, that was a disturbing image too. I suddenly felt the urge to take a shower.

  “You can say something now,” Bryson said.

  “Um … no, thank you?”

  He laughed. “You are adorable.”

  “Hey, that’s what I just said,” Freddie called out with a chuckle.

  I shot him a look over my shoulder before turning back around to face Bryson. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way, Freddie and I were wondering if you could—”

  “What? That’s it? Just no?”

  “I said thank you too.”

  “I pour my heart out to you, and that’s all I get?”

  “Yes … thank you.” Not sure why I threw on that second thank you.

  “Wow,” Bryson said. “I knew you could be mean, but I didn’t think you were such a b—”

  I screamed. I couldn’t help it.

  Freddie rushed over.

  I shook my head in disbelief at him. “Did he just call me a…?”

  “Maybe we should switch again. It’s your turn for a break,” he said reassuringly. “Just maybe give me the sculpture.” Freddie took a heavy abstract sculpture from my gripped hands. Huh, how did that get there? It had been on the coffee table just a moment ago. “You don’t want to break it.”

  “If you weren’t interested,” Bryson said, “you shouldn’t have followed me in here.”

  “We were in here first!” I threw my hands in the air. “I’m going to lose my mind, Freddie.” If I had to guess, I think I was starting to look like one of those crazy Muppets whose arms flail around like wet noodles.

  “Maybe we should just go,” Freddie said, nodding quickly. “Bryson looks like the type to press charges.”

  “I don’t believe this,” I heard Bryson mutter as we headed for the door. “Here I am stuck in this backwater town on New Year’s answering e-mails for Candace and updating her social media, cleaning up her spilled drinks, and I can’t even get Boobsie Bloom to—”

  I screamed again.

  “Wait … what?” Freddie asked, whirling around. Then he remembered me and said, “Stay,” before moving me away from a fireplace poker. “Actually stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” He hustled back over to Bryson. “What drink? Where?”

  “In here,” Bryson said, throwing his hand out. “Can you believe that? I should ask that fortune-teller out there if Candace ran a sweatshop in a previous life.”

  “So what did you do with it?”

  Bryson frowned. “Do with what?”

  “The glass. The cloths! What did you do with the glass and the cloths?”

  Bryson frowned. “I didn’t actually clean it myself.”

  “Who did?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “One of the servers.”

  “Which one? Man? Woman? What did they look like?”

  “I don’t know. It was guy. I wasn’t paying attention. He had a nice watch for a server though. Probably stole it.”

  Freddie looked at me with that twinkle in his eye that meant this situation was about to be taken to a whole other level.

  “Freddie, I know what you’re thinking right now,” I said, recovered enough to think straight, “but we discussed this and—”

  He rushed toward me and grabbed my elbow. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “You’re just leaving?” Bryson asked. “I was just telling you how crappy my life is and that’s it? I thought we were friends, Eddie.”

  Freddie swirled on his heel. “Nope.”

  “Erica?”

  “Oh my God, no!” I shouted.

  Once we were in the hall, I yanked my elbow away. “No. No, we are not doing this. Not with all these crazy rumors flying. You agreed that we should let this go.”

  “Exactly, I did agree with that until I realized that it’s a much better idea to prove nobody is trying to poison Candace. That way everyone’s collective mind can be put at ease.”

  “Nobody’s mind is uneasy but yours!”

  “Said Ms. Bloom who was about to do it in the conservatory with a mini-statue,” Freddie said knowingly.

  “That was temporary insanity. I’m fine now.”

  “But what about the twins?”

  “What about the twins?”

  “You don’t think they’re going to tell anybody what you told them about the poison? I mean, you told me what they said about the rumors.”

  “That is totally different. Of course I’m going to tell you. Best friends don’t count.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Totally. I mean, I doubt the twins have friends,” Freddie said, nodding. “Oh wait … they’re friends with all the old ladies in this town!”

  Oh wow, he was right. A vision of an old-timey phone operator popped into my head frantically connecting calls like nobody’s business.

  “Besides,” I said, “they’re the ones who told me to make sure I quashed this rumor.”

  “Yes, and I’m sure they will include that detail when they retell this story to all of their friends. I mean, they’re not bad people.”

  “They wouldn’t,” I said, but a sinking feeling fell over me. I mean, they wouldn’t mean to, but they might tell one friend something—everybody was worried about Freddie’s dog—and then that person might—

  Freddie must have known what I was thinking because he said, “And then she tells two friends. And then they tell two friends. And—”

  I whacked him. “
All right. I get it.”

  “You sold Grady down the creek, sweetheart. Now we have to clear him.”

  I closed my eyes, put my hands over my face, and shook my head. “Why didn’t I just stay home?” I mean, I could ring in the New Year quite happily from home. “Why—”

  “There’s no time for all that,” Freddie said, yanking my elbow again. “We’ve got a server to find.”

  “I can’t help but think,” I said, letting Freddie drag me down the hall, “that even though I’m agreeing to do this to help Grady, Grady wouldn’t want us doing this. And he would probably be right.”

  “Well, I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t just about Grady,” Freddie said, thumb of his free hand bouncing around his phone. “It’s about Stanley. Hashtag, justice for Stanley.”

  “Wait … are you tweeting about this?”

  “Oh yeah,” Freddie said. “Who knew if you tweeted Someone tried to poison my dog, you’d go viral?”

  The Morning After

  “Oh, so that’s how you got…” My brain hurt too much to finish the thought.

  “Oh yeah,” Freddie said.

  “Justice for Stanley.”

  He swiped at his phone. “Somebody has already made T-shirts.”

  “Huh.”

  “I am an Internet sensation.” He snapped a quick picture of the little dog lying on the floor. “Good boy.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Freddie and I maneuvered our way through the crowd of partygoers about as subtly as one might expect. If you stop every male waiter you come across and ask to see his wrist, people, unsurprisingly perhaps, start to wonder what exactly it is that you are doing. When asked, Freddie had taken to saying, “Mind your business,” while I silently mouthed behind his back something to the effect of It’s the stress. I may have even done the universal cuckoo-bird swirling with my finger a couple of times. Not appropriate, I know, but apparently neither was my life. Finally, we decided we might have better luck finding the bee in the hive, so we headed for the kitchen.