14
By morning, I was stiff, tired, and just about willing to do anything to be allowed to go home. The bunk was the most uncomfortable thing I'd ever had the displeasure of sleeping on. It felt like the mattress was full of rocks and razors. Every twist and turn sent stabbing pains shooting through my body. At one point, I seriously considered moving to the floor, but decided against it because, well, ew. Who knew what was down there.
Buchannan didn't stay all night, thank God. He gave me some water in a rare act of mercy and then left about an hour after Chief Dalton had abandoned me. I kept hoping someone would come and rescue me, but all I got were a few polite check-ins throughout the night. I think it had less to do with making sure I was okay and more with gawping at what was probably the first inmate in a few months. Pine Hills was normally a low-crime area, at least until I got here.
Lucky me.
Footfalls echoed through the empty cells at first light. A female officer whose name tag read GARRISON opened the cell and stepped aside without a word. She wasn't smiling and didn't so much as soften when I gave her my sappiest “Good morning.”
She took me by the arm and led me back out into the harsh light of the station. Two police officers were at work, busily typing up reports or whatever they typed up. I didn't know any of them, which was disheartening. I glanced toward Chief Dalton's office; the door was closed, and I couldn't tell if she was inside. The lights were off, so I was guessing no.
I didn't have any personal belongings to pick up. My poor robe was grungy from my night in the cell, and my slippers were practically black now. I didn't even want to know what my hair looked like, let alone my face.
Garrison kept ahold of my arm as she led me out to her cruiser. “Get in,” she said in a husky voice that hinted at years of smoking. I slid into the backseatâI apparently didn't qualify for a comfortable front seat ride after my incarcerationâand she closed the door firmly.
I didn't bother with small talk. I doubted Garrison had much to say to me. I was just thankful Buchannan hadn't been assigned to take me home. I think I would have rather stayed locked up alone than to listen to any more of his accusations.
As we rode toward my place, all I really could think of was Paul. Why hadn't he come to see me? I was positive either Buchannan or the chief would have let him know about my predicament. If not, someone else would have called him to tell him. In this town, everyone knew just about everything that happened almost as soon as it did. The accuracy of the rumors were debatable, of course.
I was afraid I'd scared off Paul for good. He never came to see me, hadn't been taking my calls. I'm sure he was busy with cop things, like trying to solve David Smith's murder, but how much effort would it have taken to pick up the phone to give me a quick ring hello?
Will would have come to see me, I was sure. We might have just met, and barely spoken much more than a handful of words to one another, but he seemed the type not to let a girl suffer alone. Even if the chief warned him off me, I doubted he would listen. I wasn't sure I could say the same about Paul.
Man, when did my love life get so complicated?
We pulled up in front of my house. Garrison got out of the cruiser, walked around to open my door, and slammed the door closed behind me as soon as I was out. She gave me a curt nod before getting back into her car and leaving.
“Thanks,” I grumbled. I turned for my front door, steadfastly refusing to look at the neighbors. If I saw Eleanor Winthrow today, I was going to throttle her.
I didn't have my keys on me and was worried for a minute that I wouldn't be able to get into my own house, but when I opened the screen door, an envelope was tucked by the doorknob. My key was inside. “You're a saint, Vicki,” I said as I dumped the key into my palm. I unlocked the door, feeling somewhat better, and stepped into a disaster zone.
My mouth fell open in shock. An orange blur darted my way, and I just barely managed to close the door behind me in time. Misfit slammed into my legs, arched his back, and then took off running the other way. I barely saw him go.
I was almost afraid to step inside any farther. From where I stood, I could see more than enough damage. One of the dining room chairs was lying on its side. Everything on the table had been knocked to the floor, including a candle I'd purchased just in case Paul had wanted to come over for dinner some night. It lay broken in two halfway across the room. There were chunks missing from it where Misfit must have used it as a chew toy.
The living room was no better. The curtains were hanging crookedly, the screws that held the rods in place having come most of the way out of the wall. The arm of the couch was in shreds. Stuffing littered the floor from one end of the room to the other. Like the dining room table, the coffee table had been swept clear of items. A magazine lay in hundreds of pieces on the floor.
“Misfit!” I shouted, frustration growing. I kicked off my filthy slippers, determined not to make the house any dirtier than it already was, and stalked farther into the room. The kitchen was in disarray. The cabinet where I kept his treats was hanging open. Catnip and little chunks of kitty treats lay everywhere. His bowl was filled, as if he hadn't bothered to touch it all night, and his water dish had little green specks floating in it.
I stepped into the hall. “I'm going to string you up!” I turned toward the bedroom. “Misfi-ugh!” I jerked back. A spot about a foot wide was soaking wet in the hall. One sniff told me what had happened.
I closed my eyes and counted to ten.
I won't kill my cat. I won't kill my cat.
I stepped over the wet spot and went into my bedroom. One of the pillows was on the floor, but otherwise the room seemed undamaged. Misfit lay on the middle of the bed, curled up as if he'd been sleeping there all day. He yawned, stretched, and gave me an innocent kitty blink. What kind of fool did he take me for?
I snatched him off the bed, turned, and carried him right back down the hall. I stepped in the wet spot again, which just about caused me to drop the squirming feline. I turned to the laundry room, intending to throw him into his litter box, but why bother? The room was covered in litter. It was as if he'd stood in the box and purposefully kicked every last bit of litter out onto the floor. It was in my clean clothes basket that was currently full of washed clothing I had yet to carry to my bedroom.
Misfit squirmed his way free, and I let him go. What good would punishing him do? It was me he was mad at, and really, he had a good reason. I'd abandoned him all night, left him alone to fend for himself. He'd gotten into the catnip, which often turned him into a whirling dervish, especially when I wasn't there to monitor how much he consumed.
“I'm sorry,” I said, leaning against the wall. Misfit watched me from the edge of the bedroom as if unsure. “I'll make it up to you.”
He watched me warily as I walked down the hall and past him, into my bedroom. I had a lot of cleaning up to do, but I didn't have the energy or time for it. I had to be at work in less than an hour, and I was determined not to be late.
I stripped out of my dirty robe and underwear, considered dumping them into the trash, and instead dropped them onto the floor. I stepped into the shower and cranked up the heat. I scrubbed myself ragged, dried off, and then got dressed for work. I carefully stepped over the wet spot in the hall, grabbed some paper towels, and then dropped them on top of the spot to be cleaned up later. With one last glance at the ruins of my house, I grabbed my purse and headed for work.
Vicki was already there when I arrived. Steaming cookies sat in the display case and the smell of percolating coffee filled my nose as I stepped through the door. I drifted over, drool already trailing down my chin, as I poured myself a cup.
“How are you doing?” Vicki asked, joining me at the counter.
I shrugged and slurred something inarticulate. Boy, how I managed to get this far into the day without my jolt, I'll never know. I felt half dead.
“Did your night in jail go okay?”
I glanced at her grin. “It went awesome.”
“I can tell. You look like something out of a zombie movie.”
I mimed coming at her, arms outstretched and with a not entirely fake moan, before slouching back against the counter. “It was awful.”
“I can only imagine.” Trouble came down the stairs to rub up against her leg, and she picked him up. “Why would they keep you overnight like that? Couldn't Officer Stud convince them to let you go?”
“He never even came to see me!”
“What a jerk!”
I sighed. “Maybe he was too busy.”
“A real gentleman would never leave his damsel in distress.”
“Maybe he wasn't allowed,” I said. “There could be some sort of rule against talking to the accused.”
Vicki gave me a flat look. “It wasn't like you killed anyone.”
I winced, eyes flickering toward where David had indeed been murdered. “I don't know,” I said with another sigh, this one heavier than the last. “I felt abandoned.”
“You'll be okay,” she said, a concerned look on her face. It cleared and she grinned at me. “Maybe your new guy will end up making it all better.”
I blushed. “He's not my new guy. We haven't even talked outside the bowling alley yet.”
“Uh-huh.” Her grin only widened as she shoved Trouble into my arms. “Customers,” she said. “Can't leave them waiting.” She hurried to the door to open.
I carried the black-and-white cat at arm's length, up into the bookstore. He was related to Misfit, so I knew what he could do to me if I wasn't mindful of his claws. Maybe, despite how I thought of myself, I wasn't really a cat person. I liked them most of the time, but they sure didn't seem to like me.
As I went back downstairs, I passed Vicki. She was grinning her head off and winked at me as she went by. I didn't understand her reaction until I reached the counter and looked at the man standing there for the first time.
“Will!” I said, just about shouting his name. “I wasn't expecting you.”
He smiled. “You told me to come see you at work, and here I am.” He was wearing a nice button-up shirt and a pair of black slacks that fit him perfectly. It was all I could do not to stare.
“Oh, yeah, I did say that.” I felt my face flame and cleared my throat. “I'm glad you came.”
His smile widened. “I just wish I could stay longer.” He glanced at his watch and then tapped it. “Got to get to work.” His eyes strayed to the menu above my head. “How about a hazelnut coffee?”
“Sure thing!” I turned and scurried to get his drink, thinking I might die of embarrassment. Clearly, Will had an important job. His watch wasn't a cheapo, and his clothes were just as nice. I should have told him to meet me somewhere else, somewhere where he wouldn't see me at work with my apron on and messy hair.
I carried the coffee back to him and plastered on a smile. “This one is on me. Consider it early payment for anything you can teach me.”
His eyebrows rose and one corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Now I'm going to have to come up with something interesting,” he said, taking his coffee. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” It came out as a squeak.
Will looked like he wanted to stay, but a line was starting to form behind him. “I'll talk to you again soon,” he said.
“I hope so.” I mentally smacked myself upside the head. God, I'd sounded desperate.
He only chuckled and sipped his coffee as he headed for the door.
I spent the next hour and a half serving coffee and cookies to a steady stream of customers, mind completely elsewhere. I was shocked Will had actually come to see me, and he hadn't even looked bothered by my job, or how I looked. Could he truly be interested? I just about giggled every time I thought about it.
Time passed, and Vicki helped out whenever she could. The bookstore was just as busy as I was, meaning we were both run just about ragged. My entire body ached as I got coffee after coffee. By the time Lena came in for her shift, skateboard tucked under her freshly scraped arm, I was pooped. I handed serving duties over to her and went about cleaning tables.
Throughout the morning, I hoped Will would return, knowing it was unlikely, but couldn't stop my heart from racing every time the door opened. What I needed was a distraction, something to take my mind off the one good thing that seemed to be happening to me, lest I forget that a man was murdered. A part of me hoped the Cherry Valley group would come in so I could talk to them, or at least one of the Pine Hills book club members. At one point, I thought Rita had come in with some juicy bit of gossip, but the screeching sound I'd heard was only a chair scraping over the floor.
An hour later, things were finally under control and I took a quick break. I was sweating horribly and my feet felt like they were three sizes too big for my shoes. I wanted to rub them in the worst way, but I settled on putting them up onto a chair in the office instead. I just started relaxing when there was a knock at the door.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Vicki asked, almost shyly. I don't know why, but my heart leapt into my throat at her tone.
I put my feet back on the floor to brace myself. “Sure.”
She closed the door quietly behind her and sat down in the chair my feet had so recently occupied. “Lena is covering for us for a minute. This won't take long.”
I nodded, worried. Was she going to tell me she has given up on me and was going to move elsewhere, away from my bad influence? Or could she be firing me from my own business? I mean, all I ever really did these days was come in late and cause trouble. Lena and Mike could do my job, and were probably a lot better at it than I was, especially since I couldn't seem to focus on what I was doing.