He found Ava waiting for him in Simcoe Park just like she said she would be, but she wasn’t alone. Perry Halliday from the bookstore also waited with her. If it were spring or summertime, he may not have been able to pick them out so easily, but amidst the snow-blanketed park, they stood out like a pair of shell-shocked teenagers at bridge night in a home for senior citizens. They sat, stooped up on one of the picnic tables; the two of them with sad, miserable faces. How long had they been waiting? Judging by their faces, it was long enough. He prepared himself for the worst.
“Hey,” Patrick said, creeping up behind them.
Perry eyed him first, peering over his shoulder. “Where have you been? We’ve been waiting for ages.”
Patrick came around the table and looked them over. Rosy ears. Blue lips. Yeah, Perry wasn’t fibbing, it had been a while. “I figured as much. Sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Perry asked. He turned to Ava. “He’s sorry, he says. That’s all you have to say for yourself? We’ve been freezing our buns off out here.”
Ava slid down off the table, brushing off her backside, and glared at Patrick. He half-expected her to launch into a round of obscenities, but when she didn’t, he was thankful. “What happened?” she finally asked. “You were supposed to get something to eat, not go and see a movie or something. You weren’t back at that pub again, were you?” She looked over at Perry. “Wait, would they even be open this early? Please tell me they’re not open this early.”
Patrick snickered. “Well, you see. A funny thing happened.”
“We’ve been waiting a long time, Sully. Too long. When I finally got tired of waiting, I went over to grab those clippings from Atticus and Mick. I asked Perry to tag along to keep me company when I saw that you still weren’t here.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, but now I wonder if it was even worth the trouble. You don’t seem to care about what’s going on, or about us, so what difference does it make?”
He frowned. “Ava…”
“No, don’t Ava me,” she said. “You don’t know me, Sully. You don’t get to “Ava” me.”
“Well, it’s your name, isn’t it? I have to call you something.”
She turned away, frustrated, and left Patrick and Perry near the picnic table on their own.
Did she want to hear his side of it or not? Besides, just because he was late to a meeting didn’t make him a terrible person.
“She’s really pissed,” Perry whispered to him.
“You think I don’t know that,” Patrick spat back. “I’ve got a pair of eyes, man. I can tell she’s angry.”
“I’m just saying.”
“No. You know what,” Patrick said, growing agitated. “I’ll tell you where I’ve been. I’ve been busy getting sucker-punched in the stomach, that’s where.”
Ava spun around. “What?”
“That’s right. Punched. In the stomach. That’s why I’m late. So yes, I did go get a coffee, and it was pretty gosh darn good, if I do say so myself. But I didn’t get to enjoy very much of it because some schmuck came in and started harassing a lady at the checkout. I tried being a good Samaritan and look where that got me? Punched. In the stomach.”
A hand slowly rose to her mouth. “I didn’t know…”
“And you wouldn’t, Ava. That’s my point. How could you? You weren’t there.”
“Are you all right?”
Patrick waved her off. “I’m fine. I’ve had worse. Far far worse, believe me.”
“So, this guy…” Perry began, standing up from the table. “He just punched you when you tried to intervene?”
“And the guy? Get this… It was Trevor Hurst. Ring any bells?”
Ava and Perry exchanged glances.
“That’s the boyfriend, right?” Perry asked her.
She nodded.
“One and the same,” Patrick said. “Although, I have to admit. He’s not what I expected.”
Perry shrugged. “At least we can put a face to the name now. I only wish it were under different circumstances since, you know…”
“Yeah,” Patrick mumbled, rubbing at his stomach.
“What happened, Sully?” Ava asked.
“It’s like I said, he came in and started calling her names. Accusing her of all kinds of stuff.”
“Accusing who of what?”
Patrick grinned. “Oh, now you want to know the sordid details? You’re not mad at me anymore?”
“Sully,” she said, giving him a hard smile. “Just tell us.”
“It sounded an awful lot like he was talking about Marc Wagner.”
“Who was the woman?”
“Sophia Cervelli.”
Perry whistled. “And the plot thickens. Man, this is like, turning into a full-blown mystery novel.”
“Perry…” Ava said, shaking her head.
“It’s true,” Perry shot back. “Just because there was some bad blood between Wagner and Michaud doesn’t necessarily mean Michaud was the one to do it. It could have been anyone. For all we know, the killer could already be gone. What if it was one of these tourists? Would you stick around town knowing you just killed somebody? No, you’d hightail it outta here and get outta dodge.”
Patrick hadn’t really considered that and it posed a new wrinkle. “He’s right, you know. It could have been a tourist.”
Ava moved closer to the table and fanned the park with her arms. “I know he’s right, Patrick, but for one: as you can see, there aren’t that many tourists around this time of year. And two, he shouldn’t be making light of the situation. This was somebody’s life.”
“True,” Patrick said, nodding in agreement.
Perry leaned in close to Patrick. “Does that mean Sophia’s a suspect now?”
Patrick shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Who knows anymore? And what’s with this boyfriend? Why is he going around stirring things up? If he has information about the murder, then why doesn’t he go straight to the police with it? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I can’t believe it,” Perry said, clapping his hands together. “It’s like we’re living in a bona fide Agatha Christie novel.”
“Don’t start getting any ideas,” Patrick told him. He directed his attention back to Ava, noticing that she had changed her clothes. “You look great, by the way. I would have said something before, but you know…”
Ava blushed, pulling her charcoal designer jacket in close around the open neck. “Thank you. I spent a lot of time trying to dress the part. I wish it hadn’t all been for nothing, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we’re obviously not going to Michaud’s gallery now.”
Patrick’s eyebrow shot up. “Says who?”
“You still want to?”
“I don’t see why not.”
She gestured next to her. “What about him? Perry wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Perry? Hmm.” Patrick thought on it. “You still have those clippings on you?”
“The clippings? Yeah, I’ve got them right here.” She reached inside her handbag, pulled out a manila folder, and handed it to him. “Why? What do you want to do?”
Patrick thumbed through a few of the stray newspaper clippings. He knew what he was looking for, if he could only find it. An article caught his eye, and he paused, beginning to read. “Here we go.”
“What is it?” Ava asked, leaning in for a closer look.
Patrick spun the folder around so that it faced Ava. Perry moved in behind her. “We’ve got Marc Wagner, Jean Claude Michaud, and Sophia Cervelli,” he said, tapping the faces of the people in the photo.
Ava scanned the photo and rested a hand on her hip. “All right?”
Patrick pointed back down at the photo. “There’s another person with them. Read the caption.”
“Olivia Brashear.”
“That’s right. In the coffee shop this morning, there was another woman there who said that she works for Olivia Brashear.”
Ava looked at him curiously. “Really?”
“What if we send Perry to talk to Olivia Brashear? She obviously knows all of them.”
Perry’s expression sobered. “You want me to just waltz in there and talk to her?”
“Sure, why not?”
Perry looked back down at the photo and asked, “And how am I supposed to do that exactly?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Patrick said. “You run a mystery bookstore for crying out loud. Just imagine you’re a private detective in one of those many books of yours.”
Perry beamed. “Like Philip Marlowe? Or no, maybe Lew Archer?”
“Sure. Whatever gets the job done, Perry.”
“Sully, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Ava said. “Remember what you said about us getting involved? This is hardly the sort of thing he should be doing. I think it’s better if we stick together.”
“He wants to be involved, Ava. You want to be involved. You want me to be involved. Admit it, we’re involved. We’re all in this together now. Speaking of which, I had another run-in with that detective.”
“Horace? Where’d you run into him?”
“He showed up at Morning Cravings. After it all went down. I tried explaining my side of it. Saying how I wanted to give a statement on what happened, but he wouldn’t hear it. He just sent me on my way like nothing had ever happened.”
“For real?” she asked. “That doesn’t sound like him. Maybe he’s just having an off day. It’s no wonder you’ve changed your attitude about this whole thing.”
“Changed my attitude? Ava, I’ve always wanted to help. A murder in a small town isn’t exactly good for business.”
“Yeah, but you’ve got this real take charge vibe about you now. I kind of like it.”
Patrick smiled. “What can I say? I’ve got this thing about people trying to strong-arm me. I’m not playing around anymore, Ava. You two are the only people I can trust right now. It has to be us. No one else can do this.”
Comments (0)
See all