Sweet Friend of Mine (A Sweet Cove Mystery Book 8) (12 page)

I
t was
late afternoon and light snow sprinkled down from the sky as Angie and Jenna walked to Main Street to pick up some baking supplies. The low light level from the cloud cover caused some of the streetlamps to glow and the dusting of snow sparkled like diamonds on the walkways.

“I’m not so quick to agree with Mrs. Allen that her husband didn’t do anything to hurt Ryan.” The toes of Jenna’s boots were covered with snow and looked like someone had sprinkled sugar over them.

“I’m with you on that. How could Mr. Allen come home in the middle of the night from a confrontation with his son and not tell his wife what happened?” Angie groaned at some people’s unusual relationships. “She must suspect something, don’t you think? Why else would she come to see us?”

Jenna blinked a snowflake from her eyelash. “She might have wanted to tell us so that they didn’t seem to be hiding things. She could have been afraid that it would come out that her husband found Ryan that night and then because they didn’t tell the police about it, suspicion would turn to the husband.”

Angie eyed her sister. “My suspicion has been on Mr. Allen all along … among others.”

Jenna agreed. “It doesn’t look good when people lie or try to hide things.”

Wearing a caramel-colored coat and fashionable brown boots, Francine walked towards the girls with her head down to keep the snow from hitting her face. She startled when Angie called her name.

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” Worry lines could be seen creasing the corners of the stained-glass artist’s eyes. Francine was usually bubbly and friendly, but seemed thoughtful and distracted.

“Are you okay?” Angie touched the woman’s arm.

Francine seemed about to brush off Angie’s concern, but then she sucked in a deep breath and let out her worries in an avalanche. Pulling the sisters to the side of the busy walkway, she brushed her gloved hand over her forehead. “I’m worried about Lottie. She’s been in a terrible funk. Crying. Sitting quietly doing nothing. She hasn’t been eating and I’m sure she isn’t sleeping much. She’s so upset about Ryan. She let slip one night that if she hadn’t abandoned him he’d still be alive. When I asked what she meant, she told me I misunderstood her comment and left the room.”

“Grief is awful to deal with,” Jenna said, thinking about her own feelings when her mother died.

“It seems like more than grief,” Francine said. “She seems to carry some kind of guilt over Ryan’s death. I’ve tried to talk to her, but she clams up and won’t speak.”

“What about suggesting she talk to someone? Maybe she could see a counselor who specializes in loss and grief?” Jenna suggested.

“Lottie would never agree to that.” Suddenly, a hopeful look passed over Francine’s face. “What about you? Would the two of you talk to her? She might be more open talking to women who are closer to her age. Maybe you could get her to talk about why she feels such guilt?”

Angie wondered if there might be an additional reason other than losing a friend that was causing Lottie’s upset. “I’m not sure how helpful it will be, but we can go talk to her.”

Francine’s face lit up and she hugged the girls. “Thank you so much.” A look of nervousness flashed over Francine’s face. “Could you go now? I know you must be busy. I’m worried Lottie will leave soon and go back to Boston. I saw her gathering her things. I asked that she not leave until I get back, but with the state she’s in, she could do anything.”

“We’ll go now.” Jenna nodded. “We’ll go get my car and head up to your house.”

The three parted ways and Angie and Jenna hurried home for the car. Not wanting anyone to overhear their conversation, the girls were quiet on the way home, but once they were driving up the coast to Silver Cove, they voiced their concerns about Lottie.

“Why is she so distraught?” Jenna turned the car onto Main Street. “Does she have some reason to feel so guilty?”

“I’m wondering the same thing.” Angie watched the winter landscape rush past. “Lottie knows more than what she’s told us. I’m certain about that. Whether or not it has something to do with hurting Ryan, well, that’s for us to find out.”

“I hope she hasn’t taken off yet.” Jenna pressed a bit harder on the gas pedal.

“And if she still
is
at Francine’s house, she sure isn’t going to be happy to see us.”

After a ten minute ride, Jenna eased the car to a stop in front of Francine’s big, old house. The sisters got out and were relieved to see Lottie’s Jeep in the driveway.

“How are we going to approach this?” Staring at the house with dread, Jenna locked the car doors.

“I’ve been thinking about that. Why don’t we say we were driving through town and decided to drop by to chat a little more about the case.” Angie started for the driveway and as they were about to turn onto the property, a small, beat-up green car passed them moving faster than the speed limit and caused some slush to spray the girls’ legs.

Jenna moaned and Angie glared at the driver. She spun around to watch the vehicle. “Wait a minute. Wasn’t that Henry Whitaker? It looked just like him.”

Jenna turned to see, but the car had made the corner already. The two headed for the front door and rang the bell. When Lottie opened it, she did not look pleased. Wearing jeans and a slouchy turtleneck, she glared at Jenna and Angie. “My aunt isn’t here.”

“We hoped we could talk to you.” Angie smiled warmly.

“I’m really busy at the moment.” Lottie’s upper eyelids drooped and her lower lids had dark half-moons under them.

“We’ll be quick. It will only take a few minutes.” Jenna made eye contact with the young woman.

Lottie seemed to be debating about letting them inside, but then she stepped back with a sigh and opened the door wider so the girls could enter.

“Did you have another visitor today?” Angie asked.

Lottie’s brow furrowed in confusion.

Jenna explained. “We think Henry Whitaker drove by the house just now.”

“Henry? He wasn’t here. Who’d be surprised if he was lurking around though?” Lottie’s voice was weary. She led the sisters into the living room.

“Does he drive by here regularly?” Angie sat down in a wing-back chair.

“Who knows?” Lottie sank into the sofa and leaned back. “Now that Ryan is gone, Henry has no one to follow around.” Pulling a tissue from the pocket of her jeans, she dabbed at the corner of her eyes.

“Lottie,” Angie spoke gently. “You’re aunt is concerned about you.”

“I just lost a friend,” Lottie snapped.

Jenna ignored the comment. “She worries that you’re harboring some guilt.”

Refusing to make eye contact, Lottie seemed to shrink against the sofa, her lower lip trembling.

“Is there anything else you can tell us about Ryan? Or anything you overheard someone say about that night?” Angie glanced around the room. When she spotted Lottie’s dark purple purse on a cherrywood desk set near the windows that overlooked the rear yard, her pulse quickened. Angie stared at it unable to figure out what there was about the purse that was causing her heart to race.

“Lottie?” Jenna tried to get the young woman to speak. “Sometimes it’s helpful to talk about it.”

The tissue in the girl’s hand was so wadded up that it was useless. Her fingers fished around in her back pocket trying to locate another one and coming up empty, Lottie pushed herself off the sofa with a slight groan and padded across the room in her stocking feet to her purse. She returned to the sofa and unzipped the bag. Angie watched with interest and her heart thudded double-time as Lottie’s delicate fingers reached inside and removed a small package of tissues. In the inside pocket of the purse, Angie saw what had been making her anxious.

“Lottie.” Angie looked away from the purse and lifted her eyes to the woman sitting across from her. “Why do you have two phones?”

Lottie nearly dropped the tissues. She stammered, “One is for business.”

“It’s a prepaid cell phone.” Angie waited for an explanation and when nothing was forthcoming, she said, “Ryan called a prepaid cell phone on the night he went missing. In fact, the call was made very close to the time he disappeared.”

Lottie’s mouth dropped open, but nothing came out.

“The call was made to someone in Silver Cove. Did Ryan call you?” Jenna asked.

Starting to shake, Lottie blubbered, “He called me. He called me.” Tears streamed down her face and she began to rock in her seat.

Angie and Jenna gave her a few minutes before asking anything else.

Lottie took in some shuddering breaths. “He called me. He told me his car went off the road. He knew I was in Silver Cove. Ryan texted Henry, but he didn’t get an answer from him so he called his parents to come get him. They couldn’t find him and they had an argument on the phone about why Ryan was so unclear about where he was. I think he hit his head when the car went off the road. Maybe he had a concussion. Ryan asked if I could come get him.” Lottie’s face crumpled. “He said he was so cold.”

“So you went to get him?” Jenna leaned forward.

Lottie nodded. “I drove towards Mission River.” She looked across the room and her eyes hardened. “By the time I got there, Mr. Allen had found him. I drove past so Mr. Allen wouldn’t see me. The headlights lit them up. I saw them talking. They were gesturing. They both looked angry.”

“What happened?” Angie felt light-headed.

“I drove up the road and turned around. I headed back again to see what was going on. Ryan and his dad were screaming at each other. I couldn’t stop. That would only make everything worse. Ryan’s dad hated me. He didn’t know we were still together. He would have killed Ryan.”

“Together?” Angie glanced at Jenna.

Lottie let out another long sigh. “We were still together. We never stopped seeing each other. We had to be discreet, even with our friends, so no one would catch on. Mr. Allen couldn’t know.”

“Did you see if Mr. Allen struck his son?” Jenna questioned.

“I didn’t see anything more. I drove away and went home. If I’d gotten out maybe Ryan….” Lottie’s voiced trailed off.

“There wasn’t anything you could do.” Angie was adamant. “Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault. Lottie. It wasn’t your fault.”

Lottie sucked in wobbly, ragged breaths. “I saw Henry in his car. I passed him as I drove away. He must have woken up, saw Ryan’s texts, and went out to find him.” Moving her eyes from one sister to the other, she said, “Henry would never have let anyone hurt Ryan. Mr. Allen must have sent him away … or maybe Henry heard the argument and got scared and went home.”

Angie had to ask even though the answer was obvious. “Who do you think hurt Ryan?”

Lottie didn’t even raise her red-rimmed eyes, just kept them focused on her hands in her lap. “Ryan’s father. He did it.”

D
riving back
to Sweet Cove with Jenna, Angie had a hollow feeling way down deep in her stomach as she made a call to Chief Martin to report Lottie’s suspicions about Ryan’s father. It was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that Angie had some information to tell the chief about Mr. Bob Allen’s actions on the night his son went missing.

Walking up the steps of the Victorian’s front porch and entering the pleasantly warm foyer, Jenna and Angie felt awful thinking about what seemed to have happened between Ryan and his father. Angie’s head was throbbing as she hung her and Jenna’s coats in the closet. The sisters heard footsteps on the staircase and turned around to see Darren coming down the steps. He stopped on the bottom tread, his expression serious.

“Lottie called me.”

“You want to talk?” Jenna suggested the sunroom so that they could shut the door for privacy.

Darren sank into one of the chairs. “I knew Lottie and Ryan were together. It was a secret we kept to ourselves. The three of us would get together all the time to play music.” Darren ran his hand over the top of his head. “Ryan and I wrote songs together. We set up a company to split the profits. Ryan couldn’t let his father know he was still involved with music so credits couldn’t be in Ryan’s name.” Darren leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “We had no idea that things would take off like they did. The band’s big hit last fall,
Sweet Friend of Mine
… Ryan and I wrote that song together about the friendship between me, him, and Lottie. Ryan played on that album using a pseudonym. He couldn’t tell his father.”

“Wouldn’t Mr. Allen have been happy with his son’s success?” Jenna asked.

Darren slowly shook his head. “Ryan’s father said that music was for drug addicts and losers and groupies. Mr. Allen didn’t want Ryan to be anywhere near the business.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this before?” Angie watched Darren’s face.

“We didn’t think the business part of our partnership had any bearing on the case. When Lottie found out that Ryan was missing, she thought that Ryan and his father must have fought with each other by his car and that maybe Ryan ran off. We thought he’d be found, maybe with a concussion from driving off the road. We thought Mr. Allen would tell the police he’d had a fight with Ryan that night. Lottie didn’t want to say anything because she didn’t want Mr. Allen to know that Ryan had called her to come pick him up.”

“So when Ryan was found dead, Lottie suspected Mr. Allen might have hurt him?” Angie could see how Lottie began to fear that Bob Allen might have killed his son.

“Yes. She’s horrified that she left Ryan there with his father and drove away.” Darren swallowed and looked across the room.

“Lottie told us she saw Henry Whitaker drive by as she was pulling away from Ryan and his father. She assumed Henry saw the texts from Ryan and went to get him.” Angie paused as an odd chill ran down her back and her mind started racing. “Have either of you spoken with Henry? Did you ask Henry what happened that night when he saw Ryan and Mr. Allen?”

“We’ve texted Henry a million times.” Darren took a long breath. “He won’t answer.”

Angie could feel a pulsing running through her body. “Lottie said Henry was like a shadow around Ryan.”

“Henry was obsessed with Ryan.”

“Did Henry know that Lottie and Ryan were together?” Jenna asked.

“They kept that from him. Henry would sometimes follow Ryan around Boston, but from a distance. Ryan knew it and just ignored it. He said Henry was an odd duck, but harmless. Ryan tried to be careful when he saw Lottie. He didn’t want Henry to find out that they were still dating.”

“Henry followed Ryan around the city? Like a stalker?” Angie could feel her stomach clenching.

“Henry has some issues. We all understand that. Ryan was a good friend to Henry, he felt protective of the guy. He’d known Henry for years.” Darren shrugged a shoulder.

The words that Tom had said when Jack Ford showed up in the kitchen ran through Angie’s head.
I didn’t realize he was there. I need to be more careful.

Oh no.
Angie jumped to her feet. She looked at Darren. “Call Lottie. Tell her to lock the doors. Tell her if Henry shows up, don’t let him in. Then call ‘911’ and ask the police to go to Francine’s house.” As Angie rushed from the room, she called over her shoulder for Jenna. “We need to get back to Silver Cove.”

* * *

“
D
rive faster
,” Angie urged her sister. “Henry knows that Ryan and Lottie were seeing each other. His jealousy over that might have made him do something terrible.”

“But Lottie thinks Mr. Allen caused his son’s death.” Jenna pressed harder on the gas pedal as they traveled the nearly empty road that led to Silver Cove.

“That’s still possible, but I’m getting a bad feeling about Henry.” Angie’s heart was pounding. “Who knows what happened after Lottie drove away from Ryan and his father arguing in the ditch.”

Jenna swung the wheel to turn onto Francine’s street and she lurched to a stop across from the house. “Where are the police? They should be here by now.”

“No sign of Henry’s car either.” Angie took a deep breath. “Maybe I’m wrong about this. I hope.”

“Want to go ring the bell?”

A thrumming pounded in Angie’s blood. She could feel that something was wrong. “Let’s drive over to the road that runs behind Francine’s house. Maybe Henry parked over there.”

Jenna backed up and drove to the next street.

“Ugh. There it is. There’s Henry’s car.” Angie’s head started to spin.

The old green car was pulled to the side parked close to the trees that lined the road. Jenna passed it and came to a stop.

Angie pointed to the rear of Francine’s home. “Let’s go into the yard through the trees. We’ll try to stay out of sight. Let’s silence our phones.” When Angie took her phone out she saw missed texts from Darren.
I don’t know Francine’s last name. I don’t know where to tell the cops to go. Lottie won’t answer.

Angie groaned and showed the messages to Jenna, then she texted Darren to tell him Francine’s address, and placed a call to Chief Martin. “The chief says to stay put. Cars are on the way.” She made eye contact with her sister.

Jenna looked through the bushes. “I say we get close and see if we can hear anything.”

Angie nodded and the two pushed through the undergrowth and past bare tree limbs to emerge into the back yard of the house. The snow crunched underfoot as they crept to the rear of the home where the girls pressed up against the side wall under one of the windows and listened.

“What are we going to do?” Jenna mouthed.

The girls clutched each other when they heard Henry screaming inside the house.

“You’re the reason he’s dead. It’s all your fault.”

They could hear Lottie speaking, but couldn’t make out her words.

Henry screeched again. “Stop talking. Get up. We’re getting out of here.”

Jenna’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “We can’t let him leave with her.”

Angie’s mind was a muddle. What to do? What to do? She spun around frantically looking over the snow-covered yard.

* * *

W
hen Henry dragged
Lottie up from the sofa, she whirled around to try to land a punch to his face. Henry leaned to the side to avoid the blow, grabbed Lottie’s hands, and used his belt to bind them behind her back. He shoved her to the back door. Lottie cursed at Henry.

“Just move,” he growled. “Don’t make a sound when we get outside.”

Trudging through the yard without a jacket or coat on, Lottie started to shake from the cold and the fear that was coursing in her veins.

Henry pushed and pulled the young woman to the underbrush at the property line when he noticed the footprints left in the snow by Angie and Jenna and he abruptly halted. Blood rose in Henry’s face as he realized someone had been back there. His eyes darted about the yard. “Get back inside,” he ordered, grabbing Lottie’s shirt at the back of the neck. His sudden movement threw the girl off balance and she hit the ground on her knees.

As Henry bent forward to yank Lottie to her feet, Jenna and Angie raced from the woods.

Jenna had a tire iron in her hands and she plowed into the back of Henry with such force that he went sprawling over Lottie and landed face-first in the snow.

Angie brandished a metal shovel that Jenna had kept in the trunk of her car in case she needed to shovel her car out of a parking lot. Angie stepped to one side of Henry as Jenna moved to his other side.

“Don’t you move.” Angie’s eyes flashed at the young man prone on the snowy ground.

Both girls held their weapons in a threatening posture and kept a couple of feet away from Henry in case he tried to lash out at them.

Her hands still tied behind her back, Lottie awkwardly managed to push herself up from the ground and she stood staring down at Henry, her face contorted with fury and disgust. Lottie’s lips trembled like she was trying to form some words, but nothing came out. She stomped the ground with her stockinged-foot and turned away as tears streamed down her face.

They heard the sound of a car door slamming at the front of the house and Jenna called out. In a few moments, Officer Talbot and his partner came into the rear yard and put Henry in handcuffs. Chief Martin jogged around the corner of the house. Relief washed over his face when he saw Jenna and Angie holding Lottie in their arms as she leaned into them and wept.