Wine's Up? Page 4

  “Couldn’t it have been an accident?” Hillary asked. “What if the explosion was because of a malfunction and not on purpose?”

  Rose shrugged. “I wouldn’t know about these things. In my day, explosions were left up to the men.”

  They both watched the women. Jessica looked up and nodded to Rose, who nodded back.

  “I guess you know Jessica well?” Hillary asked. She was feeling the wine, and it made her tongue looser. Usually, she kept to herself, but Rose was in the habit of gossiping and it was so easy to fall into step with her. Hillary’s curiosity was increasing by the moment. Alcohol had a funny way of making people bolder, to let them break their own rules. Hillary was getting more and more eager to learn of any news Rose had.

  “Oh, I was the one that hand-delivered the basket to Doris that night, remember? I stepped inside to chat with her for a few minutes, and when I left, before I was even off the porch I overheard Doris inside encouraging Reggie to set it all up for Jessica as a surprise before she got home. The two of them were trying to make things right between them, can you believe it? Doris suggested that Reggie light the candle just before Jessica walked through the door so that it set the mood.”

  “She told Reginald to light the candle?” Hillary asked.

  Rose nodded. “She insisted. She kept saying how important it was to create the atmosphere and that the basket just like that wouldn’t do it. He had to light it, she said.”

  Hillary pulled her face. Their baskets were romantic enough, thank you very much.

  Rose sighed. “Romance dies, so work hard to keep it alive. Those two have been betraying each other from the start, but I was under no illusions. I knew they loved each other. It’s why this whole thing is so tragic—that he would die just before they made it right again. Fate can be so twisted.”

  “It can be,” Hillary agreed, and she thought of Matthew again, of how she’d blamed fate and all that went with it for taking her husband away too soon. Everything had gone so well for them for so long it was unfair that something had taken him from her. It was a strange comfort to know that she wasn’t the only woman whose love had been ripped away from her. It wasn’t the same thing. Matthew had died of cancer, and Hillary had had time to prepare herself and say goodbye before Matthew had passed away. Jessica never had that chance, and the sorrow in that would be more than anyone could bear.

  Rose and Hillary drank their wine in silence for a while. Rose was rarely silent, but it wasn’t out of place to honor the dead, and she sympathized with Jessica. She had lost two husbands herself, and the pain of losing someone you had vowed to spend the rest of your life with hurt. No matter what those two had done to each other, Reggie hadn’t deserved to die like that. No one did.

  Hillary’s mind was on the baskets. They were supposed to bring love and happiness to couples. They were created for that purpose. It was ironic that something as cheerful as a surprise date night basket would bring the death of a man who was so well loved. When Jessica had ordered it from the shop, she had been so excited.

  Hillary frowned. Jessica, not Reginald, had ordered the basket. She had known about it, then. It wouldn’t have been a surprise. She had even chosen the contents from their list, discussing with Hillary what Reginald might like.

  When she reminded Rose of that, Rose shrugged. “Oh, if you ask me, the whole thing was planned.”

  Hillary gasped. “You can’t mean…”

  “Oh, no. No, of course not.” Rose laughed at herself. “I don’t mean that someone planned the explosion. I mean the reason Doris suggested that Reginald surprise Jess on the night I delivered the basket. I think Doris wanted them occupied so that she could slip out of the house. You see, ”—Rose leaned in closer and lowered her voice— “she’s had a problem and she needed to sneak away.”

  “A problem?” Hillary asked, glancing at Doris. Judging by how the woman hung on the bar, affected by the alcohol, she doubted Doris had a drinking problem. Someone who had a drinking problem could handle much more than she obviously could.

  Rose lowered her voice even more so the women wouldn’t overhear them by chance.

  “Doris has a gambling addiction. She plays online poker as far as I know, but she also can’t walk past a game without joining in.”

  Hillary remembered Rose’s snide comment about Doris gambling in a ratty back alley, or something of the sort.

  “I think she needed to get out to feed her addiction, and what better way to slip out unnoticed than to have the Danvers occupied with each other? That’s why I think she was so encouraging that night, why she insisted. I think she was in a rush to get away.”

  Hillary nodded and finished the last bit of wine in her glass. It made more sense now that Rose painted it that way. And she’d heard something about Doris and a gambling addiction before, although she tried not to pay too much attention to gossip if she could help it. It was getting harder and harder as everyone had something to say and there was so much happening around this little town.

  “How about another glass of wine?” Rose asked when she finished her glass.

  Hillary thought about it for a minute. She rarely drank, but she was having a good time and there was no reason not to have another glass with Rose. When she agreed, Rose ordered another two glasses.

  When the drinks arrived, Hillary gazed at the pinkish red liquid.

  “I’m not a big wine drinker but I think I can get used to this,” she said.

  Rose smiled and took a sip. “It’s such a nice thing to do together. Drinking coffee together is going out of fashion.”

  The two women laughed.

  “So, on to other things. Tell me about your night with Preston,” Rose said.

  Hillary blushed. She didn’t like talking about herself. She liked it even less than talking about others.

  “It was all right, thank you,” she said. “We talked about this and that. He’s a good friend to the town, isn’t he?”

  Rose nodded, waiting for more. When Hillary didn’t offer more, she prodded a bit.

  “And? Do you think you’ll go out with him again?”

  Hillary shrugged. “I don’t know. I must see if it comes to that. I think he’s busy now with the case and all.”

  Rose nodded. Again, Hillary wasn’t offering information. For someone as curious as Rose, it was torture. Maybe Hillary and Preston weren’t a good match. Had she read their body language wrong when he’d come into the shop to buy a gift the day before? She didn’t think so. Rose took pride in her ability to set people up, to know if they were compatible or not.

  It was probably because of Preston. The man was impossible to set up with anyone—Rose had tried for years to change him from Rosemary Harbor’s most eligible bachelor into a married man. But something already took the man, she knew—Preston was married to his work. And what a fine couple they made. He was good at his job, keeping the crime in the area to a minimum and taking care of business when it happened. She couldn’t blame him for building his career, but it was sad to see a man alone. Rose was a firm believer in love and being together.

  She looked at Hillary, who was sipping her wine and watching the surrounding people. She deserved to be happy, too. With someone like Annabelle in her life to stop her from having any fun at all, Hillary wouldn’t find a husband again. Maybe Rose could nudge along the relationship between Hillary and Preston. She wasn’t wrong about Preston’s attitude toward Hillary, she was sure.

  Rose believed she had a knack for matchmaking and seeing people she brought together happy and well made her feel fulfilled. What else was there left to do for an old woman in a sleepy town with no husband of her own?

  5

  When Hillary woke up, she had Preston on her mind. Her head ached a little after the wine last night—she should have stopped after one glass—but the alcohol had set her thinking the night before and she was still in that motion. The morning sun shed some light on her emotions about Preston and she took the time to think about what she was
feeling.

  She liked Preston, that she was sure of. She didn’t know how ready she was to fall into another romance. It had been several years since Matthew had died, but maybe Annabelle was right. Maybe she shouldn’t date yet. She would be lucky to have a friend like Preston—he was a good guy with the town’s best interests at heart and his job was taking care of people and making sure they were safe. It was noble as could be, and he was good company, too.

  Hillary wanted to see Preston again. Yes, she enjoyed his company, but she also wanted to know what was going on with the case, if they’d discovered anything more from Lauren now that they had a bigger picture. She was proud of herself for what she’d found out for him, even though she’d felt bad about the repercussion. She didn’t want to give Preston the wrong idea, since he seemed gung-ho on beginning a romantic involvement, so she staged a run-in.

  Thanks to her own routine and the town’s inability to keep any secrets, Hillary knew that Preston visited Corner Coffee every morning at ten to get coffee for himself. Someone from the station always picked up the morning run but Preston collected his own coffee after that. Hillary felt he did that because he liked to keep visible in the community.

  After Hillary opened Something Special and unpacked stock with Annabelle and Rose, she got ready to leave for the café.

  “Where are you going, Mom?” Annabelle asked when Hillary took her handbag from underneath the counter.

  “I will get a cup of coffee at Corner Coffee. You’ll be okay running the shop?”

  Annabelle nodded. “I’ll be fine. You’re going alone?”

  “Yes, I’ll be back later, sweetheart.”

  “Bring me a coffee, will ya?” Spot said at the door.

  “Sure thing,” Hillary replied.

  She hurried to Corner Coffee. She hadn’t lied to Annabelle—she was going to the café alone. She would not be alone once she got there but Annabelle didn’t need to know that. Besides, it wasn’t for romance anyway, so no point in making her daughter upset over nothing.

  Corner Coffee was a warm little coffee place with light wooden floors and pale green wallpaper. Large windows stretched all the way around making the place bright and cheerful.

  “Morning, Hillary. Table for one?” Sue-Anne asked at the door when Hillary arrived. Hillary nodded and followed the waitress to a table by a window. She liked this place because she could order at the table and not wait in line at the counter. Hillary sat down and ordered a latté.

  When Sue-Anne left, Hillary glanced at her watch. It was almost ten. Preston would arrive soon. Her latté arrived soon, and she sipped it, looking out the window. The coffee shop looked over the bay and today the ocean was a teal blue with hardly any clouds in the sky. The ocean had moods, Hillary thought. Sometimes it was gray and stormy as if it were angry. Sometimes it was a dark blue and so calm it looked almost like a lake. As if it were sad. It looked calm and peaceful today, Hillary decided.

  Just like her.

  “Good morning, Chief,” Hillary heard Sue-Anne say at the door and a moment later, Preston walked in. He looked upright and important in a fresh uniform, like he meant business. He got in line at the counter and saw someone waving at him from across the seating area. His eyes fell on Hillary and he smiled at her, surprised. He turned to Sue-Anne. “Would you mind bringing me my usual over there? I will join Hillary.”

  “Sure,” Sue-Anne said.

  Preston walked to Hillary.

  “Mind if I sit down?” he asked.

  “Please,” Hillary said.

  Preston looked at Hillary. She looked wonderful in a white blouse with red flowers on it. He was glad he’d run into her; he had been hoping he could spend some time with her again after dinner the other night.

  “How is your case coming along?” Hillary asked.

  “It’s going okay. We still don’t have enough information, but it will come. These things have a way of showing themselves. It’s not a matter of if, but when.”

  Hillary smiled. “That’s a great way to look at it. I bet that’s why you’re so good at what you do.”

  Preston smiled, feeling good about himself. She wanted him to sit with her and she was complimenting him. This was a good start to his day if ever he had one.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the case. I’m glad you came in.”

  The warmth died down a little.

  “I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed being a part of the investigation yesterday. I’m not a professional or anything but I like being able to add to the case if I can. It’s always good to have a few extra eyes around town, don’t you think?”

  “I guess so…” Preston started. He realized what this was all about. Hillary hadn’t flagged him down to spend time with him because she enjoyed his company. This was about the case. He hadn’t realized that taking her with him would go to her head so much. “I’m not sure if you should get involved, though. We’re investigating a murder. It’s serious and could even be dangerous.”

  Hillary nodded. “Which is why you need all the help you can get. You said yourself you didn’t have much to go by just yet, and I’m sure I can add to your list of clues, if nothing else.”

  Preston didn’t know how to respond. Hillary was eager. He had commented on her keen eye at the dinner the other night and he’d turned to her for the address where Lauren Peters was staying, but he’d had no idea that he would create an amateur private eye in doing so. Preston liked to follow protocol with his cases. Doing things by the book had gotten him this far in his career and he didn’t like breaking the rules. Rules were there to help, and they had guided him his whole life.

  Besides, he didn’t want a part-time partner, a sidekick. He wanted a date.

  “I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Preston said again. He couldn’t bring himself to be blunt and tell her no just like that.

  “Oh, it’s no problem. I have information for you, in fact.”

  Preston hadn’t expected that. “Oh?” he asked.

  “I was with Rose at Wine’s Up last night when I realized—Jessica Danvers was in my shop two weeks ago to order a basket for her and Reginald.”

  She waited for Preston to put two and two together. When he said nothing, she continued.

  “She was the one who ordered the basket, but according to what Rose overheard at their house the night she delivered the basket, Reginald was the one who set it up as a surprise for her. Doesn’t that sound strange to you? Why would it be a surprise if Jessica was the one to order it, and why was Reginald the one who prepared it? It makes little sense. So, I thought. I can’t decide if ordering the basket makes Jessica innocent because it was all behind her back, or if she knew and she was an accomplice. Because if word had gotten out that Lauren and Reginald…”

  Preston shook his head. “Let me stop you, Hillary,” he said. Hillary stopped talking and looked at Preston, waiting with excitement for him to speak. Preston had to admit her bright eyes and flushed cheeks made her even more beautiful. “Lauren isn’t a person of interest anymore.”

  Hillary frowned. “What? Why not?”

  Preston sighed. “We questioned her. It is obvious she doesn’t have the know-how to make any kind of explosive herself, let alone one that will go off at the right time to kill a specific person. And even if she did, she has an alibi for the night in question. Someone got inside the Danvers house and replaced the candle that was in there with an explosive candle. Lauren wasn’t anywhere near their house that night.”

  Hillary shook her head. She had been sure they were onto something when she’d discovered Lauren’s affair with Reginald, when she became a suspect.

  “So, now what?” Hillary asked. She felt a little deflated. When she’d remembered that it had been Jessica who ordered the basket, she’d been excited about the new information she could add to the case.

  “So there was no way Lauren could have switched it out?” she asked, just to confirm.

  Preston shook his head. “You said yourself she
sent the candles to you through the post so that it could go on her records. The moment the candles were done they were packaged and then mailed. It had to happen after someone purchased the basket, or else how would the killer know which candle would go to the Danvers’s house?”

  Preston didn’t tell Hillary that for a short while the police had looked into the possibility that one of the women at the shop could have been involved but that had been ruled out. Rose was a pillar of the community and had no beef with either of the Danverses. And Hillary and Annabelle were too new in town to have made such an enemy that they’d commit murder. He’d had background checks done on all of them just in case, and it had flagged nothing.

  “What is Jessica Danvers’s alibi?” Hillary asked. It gripped her. She was smack in the middle of a murder mystery and it was just like a novel she’d read. Except this was real life, and she was a part of it.

  Preston looked at Hillary, unsure how to answer. He didn’t have a straight answer for her because, well, they didn’t know yet. Jessica was vague about where she was and that put her at the top of his suspect list. Every time they went to talk to the woman, she was so distraught they couldn’t get much out of her.

  “The police are still working on that.”

  “You have nothing at all?” Hillary asked.

  Preston hesitated. “Nothing I’m at liberty to discuss. But let’s talk about other things. We should get together again some time.”

  Hillary wasn’t sure how to answer. She knew she liked Preston, but she wasn’t ready to go out with him again so soon. She glanced at her wristwatch.

  “Oh no, I’ve been away from the shop for way too long. I have to go, Preston. I’m sorry to run out on you like this.”

  She got up and fished in her bag for money for her latté. She put it on the table as she said, “I’ll let you know if I find out anything more. In the meantime, good luck with the investigation.”

  She walked away from Preston before he could say anything but goodbye to her. She had gotten out of the date question and she wanted to get away from him before he suggested anything else.