A Deadly Secret (The Deadly Series Book 2) Read online

  What the hell was going on?

  Before Eugene had a chance to respond, Ethan touched his shoulder. Eugene jerked his head to look at him, anger flashing across his face. They exchanged a look, but I couldn’t hear what was being said. Eugene’s lips moved in response. Ethan put his hand under Eugene’s arm, pulling him away.

  Then I heard Ethan’s voice as the Christmas jingle ended, “It’s not worth it. Not here.”

  Ethan’s brows were pinched tight together as he walked with the Fletchers toward the door. Where was Esther? Shouldn’t she be dealing with this? I stood on my toes, looking around for her. She was walking through the crowd toward Vargas, her finger pointed at his chest. His head lowered like a dog being scolded by its owner.

  “I’ll be right back,” I whispered, and slipped away to follow Ethan.

  The night air instantly cooled me as I stepped onto the porch and pressed my back against the bricks. Ethan and the Fletchers were standing on the sidewalk. Something moved in my peripheral and I turned my head to spot the small shadow—the same one from before. It moved away from the light of the porch.

  Ethan shook Eugene’s hand. He patted the older man on the shoulder then walked back up the steps.

  “Come on.” Ethan reached for my hand and led me back inside to Maisie and Tessa.

  I looked over the bar at the empty flutes in front of me. What drink was I on? Four? I’d had three earlier . . . I thought I was saved when the champagne ran out, then Esther had one of her staff members pour another two dozen.

  Excusing myself, I walked toward the bathroom, my hand running along the wall just in case my legs got the wobbles. Well, this sucked. I was drunk. My head was swimming and my body was warm—a little too warm. I pushed the bathroom door open and noticed the vase on the counter was on the floor near a stall.

  The smell of patchouli clung to the warm air of the bathroom. Rubbing my eyes, trying to keep them in focus, I picked up the vase and saw Sasha’s six-inch heels under the stall door. “Hello?” A sharp edge of the vase poked my finger and blood swelled to the surface. Sucking my finger, I looked at the ground. Flowers from the vase were scattered all over the floor. The white tile was slick with water. I set the vase back on the counter, careful to not cut myself again. “Sasha?” I knocked softly on the door. “Are you okay?”

  The door gave under my hand and I sucked in a sharp breath. My feet tried to slip out from underneath me as I stumbled backward. I grabbed onto the counter, unable to take my eyes off Sasha. She sat haphazardly on the toilet, slumped over, her head resting against the side of the stall, arms hanging lifeless beside her, fingertips touching the floor. Her mouth hung open, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

  Tessa walked into the bathroom. She looked at me, the floor, and then walked to stand in front of the stall. She gasped, grabbed my arm, and pulled me out of the bathroom.

  “Someone call nine-one-one!” she yelled as she pulled me back toward Ethan and Maisie.

  The contents of my stomach threatened to come up. I looked back at the bathroom as Vargas ran toward it, he was, after all, an officer. He stumbled out a moment later. His face was pale as he leaned against the wall, his head resting on his arm. I watched his chest rise and fall. He straightened his jacket, his tie, then walked into the middle of the room.

  “No one leaves. My wife has been murdered.” He pulled his cell phone out and called the station, requesting every available officer to come from next door.

  The cheery Christmas music was still playing: “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas . . .” I slid to the ground against the bar, pulling my knees to my chin. My head was swimming and I was certain if I moved, I’d throw up.

  Vargas kneeled in front of me. “Riley, did you see anyone leave the bathroom?”

  I shook my head very slow but the movement still sent a wave of nausea through me. Maisie pushed a small circular trash can beside my legs. I grabbed it, placed it on my lap, and wrapped my arms around it. Deep breaths, I reminded myself and tilted my head back to look around the room.

  Manuel moved to talk to one of the officers in uniform who had just arrived. Sophia King stood beside him. He patted her back as she covered her face with her hands, and even from this distance, I could make out her sobs.

  I tugged on Tessa’s pants, and she leaned down. “Who is Sophia to the Vargas’?”

  Tessa took a moment to look at the woman, then whispered, “She’s their niece.”

  I leaned back in my office chair with a cold towel draped over my eyes. The chatter from the café was not helping the pounding in my head. I barely remembered Ethan and Maisie tucking me into bed after the police let us leave. Images of Sasha’s lifeless body had filled my dreams all night. Her eyes staring up at the ceiling, the flowers scattered around the floor. I couldn’t help but feel guilty. If I hadn’t been so focused on my own discomfort, maybe I would’ve seen something. I wanted to help Vargas find his wife’s killer, but I hadn’t noticed anyone going into the restroom after Sasha.

  I felt terrible for the sheriff. One moment Sasha had been upset with her husband, the next she was dead.

  What a tragedy, really.

  I was starting to believe any and all Wildewood get-togethers were cursed and that I should seriously consider not attending another one. An unsettling thought hit me: There hadn’t been any murders I knew of at any of the town parties or festivals until I moved to town.

  If that wasn’t a self-esteem killer, I didn’t know what was.

  Walking out of the office, my stomach felt queasy and my head throbbed under the bright lights. The volume level of the chatter jumped louder the moment I left the hallway. Or maybe that was just me. I rubbed my temple in a slow circular motion, hoping to dull the pain.

  Maisie waved me over. She stood on the other side of the counter beside a tall man I had never seen before. I moved toward the coffee machine, wishing I had a way to enchant it and cure my hangover. I could probably figure it out, but I wasn’t sure I had the needed mental capacity at the moment.

  Maisie cleared her throat. I stopped mid-pour and looked over at her. “This is Zachary Osbourne.”

  I gave him a little wave.

  Maisie narrowed her eyes at me and bared her teeth as she said, “He’s here to fill the open position.”

  My face went slack. I didn’t understand a word she said.

  “For the extra set of hands we need,” she elaborated.

  The carafe dropped to the counter and I stuck out my hand to shake his. Not a very good first impression of his potential boss. I looked up to meet his gaze, trying to smile but the light above him was creating a bright halo around his head, sending a painful ping through my own.

  I tried not to squint as I looked him over. He had soft features, except for the slight crook of his nose. His eyes were dark brown with specks of gold dancing in his irises. His black hair curled around the crown of his head.

  Maisie handed me his application. I glanced at it. The tiny words blurred and my stomach started to turn. I laid the page down and blinked to focus my eyes. “Have you ever worked in hospitality before?”

  I placed the cup on the counter. It tilted and sloshed, coffee spilled over the side. I needed to go home and sleep off this hangover.

  “No. But”—he stole a napkin and wiped the spilled coffee—“I have experience in taking care of people. I’m a fast learner.”

  I glanced at Maisie standing behind him. She mouthed “please” with her palms pressed together as if praying. Looking back at Zach, I nodded. “Okay. Want to come back tomorrow evening, say an hour before we reopen?”

  He smiled. His incisors were a little pointier than most peoples’. He reached his hand back out to shake mine. “I’ll be here.”

  “Let me get you a menu to study.”

  Maisie was all but bursting at the seams with excitement. She must have assumed I would say yes to anyone who applied and pulled a menu with a cheat-sheet paper clipped to it from underneath the
register.

  Zach took it from her. He ducked to miss the door frame as he left. Well, we definitely wouldn’t lose him in a crowd.

  Maisie crossed her arms, watching him walk past the window. Her lips twitched into a half-smile. “He’s pretty cute.”

  Laughing at her reaction, I retorted, “As long as he can make a decent cup of coffee.”

  I walked into the kitchen to find a cold bottle of water, deciding coffee was not going to help me, as much as it pained me to say. The cool air in the refrigerator felt like heaven against my face. Closing my eyes, I leaned in further. The nausea subsided a bit.

  The swinging doors to the kitchen banged against the wall, and I jumped, barely missing hitting my head on the refrigerator. A large oven was being wheeled in with Michael guiding it to the empty spot next to the one Eugene had been able to fix.

  “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Michael apologized as he removed the straps from around the oven.

  A memory came crashing into my already-pained head. Michael had gone down the hallway only minutes after Sasha had stormed off.

  He turned to look at me, an eyebrow raised. “Riley, are you okay?” He took a step toward me.

  I backed into the refrigerator door. “Yes. Yeah—” I held up the water bottle. “I just needed some water.”

  He returned to the oven. “Okay. You just look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  A ghost? No. I crept out of the kitchen and back behind the counter. A murderer, perhaps, but not a ghost. Tightening my apron around my waist, I glanced back at the kitchen. He couldn’t have been the only person to go into the bathrooms between Sasha storming off and me finding her. Just because I didn’t see it, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, right? My chest felt tight, and I wanted him to hurry and finish installing the oven.

  Filling a cup of Hocus Focus for Maisie, I handed it to her across the counter.

  “I think he’s going to be a perfect fit,” she commented.

  I gave her a confused look.

  She cocked her head to the side and sighed. “Zach. I think he’s going to do well here.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry, I’m feeling a little off.”

  “That’s understandable.” She gave me a weak smile before delivering the coffee to a customer.

  My mind was a hundred miles away, or rather, inside the bathroom of Town Hall. Who would be so brash to kill Sasha in a room full of people? Untying my apron, I placed it near the coffee maker. I strolled over to her in the far-left corner of the café as she was picking up a pile of empty dishes.

  “I need to get some air. I’ll be back.”

  The café wasn’t too busy, she would be fine for a little while on her own and surely Michael, now a suspect in my book, had no qualms with us.

  The crisp December air dulled the pulsing in my head. I stood outside the fence surrounding the café patio, wishing I had grabbed my jacket as a gust of wind swept down the lane. I looked toward the square. Large, red-and-white striped candy canes bordered the walkway. Christmas lights were strung on the branches of the large oak tree in the middle of the lawn. I heard a loud voice and glanced down the street.

  Sheriff Vargas stood outside the hardware store with Eugene. And from the looks of it, he wasn’t sheriff today. His white button-down shirt hung half-tucked from his belt line. The fabric was wrinkled as if he had slept in it. The dress shoes on his feet told me he hadn’t gone home after the Christmas party.

  Their noses almost touched. Vargas poked Eugene’s chest repeatedly. Gritting my teeth, I waited for Eugene to turn into an actual bull, but his face remained calm. The words flowing from Vargas’ lips were loose and slurred. Eugene’s were direct and short. Shoppers and shopkeepers alike were turning their attention to the two men.

  My feet moved before my thoughts, and I was walking toward them to try to . . . stop the public scene, I guess, before it got more out of hand. I wasn’t sure what was going on, possibly a continuation of their argument the night before. But good grief, weren’t there bigger problems now than whatever business they were involved in? And did they really want the entire town to know?

  “I wouldn’t,” a familiar, demanding voice stopped me in my tracks.

  The echoed clopping of hurried footsteps made me turn. Esther crossed the street, holding cupcake towers in both hands. She had on a black blazer with ankle-cut black pants. Her gray curls were pulled away from her face, exposing small diamond earrings.

  “But they’re—” I lowered my voice as she neared. “People are staring.”

  “Let them. Our dear sheriff is making a fool of himself.” She handed me the towers then wiped her hands together. “Such a pity.” She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and turned me away. “The problems those two have are not our concern.”

  “But it’s your town—”

  “I’m in dire need of some caffeine. It was a long night,” she interrupted then walked ahead of me.

  A patrol car passed us. The brake lights flashed as it pulled over to the curb beside them.

  Glancing over my shoulder as I hurried after Esther, I saw John Russell stepping out of the car. Eugene moved away, going back inside his store. The two officers stood beside the car until Russell opened the passenger door but it didn’t seem Vargas had any interest in leaving just yet.

  I caught up with Esther. She took her white handkerchief from the small purse that hung by her side and wiped the seat of one of the black chairs on the patio. “Please be a dear and get me a cup of coffee.”

  I nodded, finding it strange she was sitting outside, but I had a feeling she was more interested in the argument down the street than she was letting on. I returned quickly with two cups and set one in front of her. I placed a cream-and-sugar set in the middle of the table.

  Taking a seat across from her, I glanced down the street. She cleared her throat, bringing my attention back to her. Staring at me, she prepared her coffee. I wanted to watch the scene unfolding in front of Eugene’s store, instead of sitting in awkward silence with Esther, but my mind began to wander back to her vault.

  “Is there something you would like to ask me?” She stirred her coffee.

  As a matter of fact, there was. Esther rarely answered any of my questions, something she and Agatha had in common, so I was not going to pass on the invitation.

  “Your vault . . .” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “It’s impenetrable.”

  “Riley, just ask your question.” She sipped the steaming liquid.

  “Why was it open?”

  Esther shrugged. She brought the cup back to her mouth, her pinkie extended. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I crossed my arms on the table and leaned closer. “Nothing slips your mind.”

  She flicked her eyes up and set her cup down.

  I leaned back against the chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “I think you left it open on purpose.”

  “Don’t be silly. That would be dangerous. You know as well as I do what I store in that room.” She gathered up her purse and pushed her chair back to stand.

  I heard a car door close, so I looked down the street just in time to see the backlights of the patrol car light up before it pulled away from the curb. I guess John Russell won the argument. I turned back to Esther. “Thank you . . . for forgetting to close the door.”

  She harrumphed and walked off the patio, leaving her coffee on the table.

  The door to the café opened. Michael pushed the empty hand trunk in front of him through the threshold then set it down gently beside my table. “I gave the warranty paper and receipt to Maisie.” He propped his arm on the handles.

  “Thank you.” My nerves were starting to spike again.

  “I heard you were the one to find Sasha’s body.”

  I lifted my chin, eyes squinted from the blinding sun.

  “Anyone would be feeling a bit off after that, so I’m not going to take your distance personally.” The side of his mouth twitched into a sympa
thetic smile. “I hope they figure out what happened to her before—” He pushed the hand truck back on its wheels.

  As he passed me, I stood. “Before what?”

  Michael shrugged. “Before our sheriff does something that can’t be undone.” He walked off the patio.

  I stood there with my mouth agape and watched Michael walk down the street back to the hardware store. Wrapping my arms around myself, I watched him until he entered the building. Was the sheriff involved in something that had led to his wife’s murder? I didn’t know anything about Manuel Vargas, except that he had been the county sheriff for a very long time.

  The rest of the day flew by with my hangover randomly reminding me of its existence—a bout of nausea here, a flash of pain there. I didn’t know what Tessa had put in her flask, but whatever it was, I would turn it down at the next party. Though at this point, I might just vow to never attend another party in Wildewood. The register dinged as the last customer paid, he grabbed his to-go box and coffee. Maisie brushed past me into the kitchen. The cold air flooded inside when the door opened. Tessa stepped to the side to let him pass, then dragged herself to the counter.

  She sat on one of the stools, twisting to one side then the other as her back popped. I placed the last bit of coffee in front of her with a blueberry scone. She pulled her hair out of its high ponytail then removed the bobby pins that held back her bangs. Fluffing her hair out with her fingers she took a deep breath.

  “Long day?” I grabbed a damp rag to start wiping tables.

  “Crazy long.” She brought the cup of coffee to her nose and breathed in the bitter aroma. Setting it back on the counter, she poured sugar into it.

  “That’s just normal coffee, by the way.” We reserved Hocus Focus for mornings only.

  Tessa swiveled the stool to face me. “Good. I plan on going home and crashing. As much as the Christmas season is good for Odds ‘n’ Ends, it is not good for my aging body or my sanity.”

  I chuckled. She was only twenty-nine, but I understood the backaches after a grueling shift at the café. “It’s almost over.” I flicked some crumbs to the ground with the rag. “Hey, how come I didn’t know Sophia was the sheriff’s niece?” They didn’t favor each other, though I had only met Sophia once or twice when I’d gone into Luna’s.