Bun for Your Life (18 page)

“Me too. I haven't even started shopping yet. I'll let you go. I'll talk to Jane another time. Have a good night.”

“You too,” Kate replied.

Talking to Jane would have to wait.

Early the next morning, my phone rang. Well, what it actually did was play Lady Gaga's “Bad Romance.” It was Brian.

“Hi. What's up?” I answered.

“Hi, Moll. There's something I want to talk to you about.”

“Trouble in paradise?” I asked. Hoping there was. No, scratch that. I didn't. Really, I didn't.

“No. Everything's good. It's about the wedding.”

“I assume you mean your wedding to Lola.”

“Yeah. I . . . um . . .”

“You what? What's going on with the wedding?” I prodded.

“I'd like to invite you, but I don't think Lola would be okay with you being there. She's still a little insecure about our history, and isn't totally convinced you don't want me back. I don't want to hurt your feelings by not inviting you. I don't know what to do. Maybe you could come, but bring a guy, and then she'd be okay.”

I stifled a huge sigh. Were men really that clueless? Of course she wouldn't like my being invited to her wedding. She wouldn't be okay with my presence even if I had ten men with me and I was married to them all. There is no way I could fault her for that. I'd feel exactly the same way.

“You cannot be surprised by that,” I finally replied. Brian wasn't usually so dense.

“I thought it would be nice. We're still friends, aren't we? Who better to share my day with than you?”

I wanted to thump him on the head. “How about your bride? Your family? Her family? Your guests?”

“I meant besides all them.” There was silence, and I figured he was contemplating the wisdom of my words. “Yeah,” he finally responded. “I guess you're right. You won't be hurt if you don't get an invitation? Our wedding isn't until next autumn anyway, but we're getting our list together.”

I was glad he saw the light. “I'm very fine with not being invited. Don't worry about it. It would be uncomfortable, anyway. Think about it, Bri. Do you want her inviting all her ex-boyfriends?”

“You have a point. Thanks, Molly. You're so sensible.”

Words that warmed my heart. I love being thought of as the sensible one. Like a pair of Enid's shoes.

“You're welcome. I've got to go. I have to walk Beau.”

“Who's Beau?”

“Sean's dog.”

“He's making you walk his dog?”

“No. He's out of town. I volunteered to take care of Beau while he's gone.”

“So, there's nothing going on between you two? Remember what I said before. Don't let him break your heart.”

“I hardly think walking his dog is going to break my heart, so no worries there.” I ended the call.

*  *  *

Sean had been gone two nights and Dottie had been gone one when I found a note while taking Beau for his early-morning walk. More accurately, Beau found the note. He stopped on the porch, parked himself on his haunches, lifted his head, and howled.

“You can't have a problem with the steps,” I told him. “What's wrong?”

He barked, then led me down the steps and, with his nose, nudged me toward my car. He must think we're going for a ride, I thought. Then I saw it, the white envelope sitting on the windshield, held in place by one of the windshield wipers. I got down on one knee and hugged Beau. “Aren't you a smart doggie?” I kissed the top of his head, then grabbed the envelope, opened it, and read. Beau waited patiently for me. I'd owe him a biscuit when we returned.

My first instinct when I'd finished was to call Brian, but I couldn't. I wasn't going to take advantage of our history to cry on his shoulder. I thought of Olivia and Emily, but they would both freak out. My parents were out of the question; they would get hysterical. I had a feeling Dottie would approach my problem in a levelheaded way without being the least bit hysterical, but she was gone, so I couldn't tell her. I'd need to find another shoulder.

I stuffed the note in my coat pocket, hurriedly finished Beau's walk, then went back inside. After calling Olivia to tell her I'd be a little late, I dug around in my purse for the piece of paper with Sean's cell phone and email address on it. Beau jumped up on my bed and watched me. I didn't have the heart to make him get down. I was already attached to him. I was going to hate giving him back when Sean returned; my apartment would be so empty without his company.

I took out my phone and texted.

Hi Sean. It's Molly. I got a note.

I waited. Nothing. He was most likely busy. “You can stay there, I'll be right back,” I assured Beau. I was halfway through the kitchen when I heard my phone chirp with an incoming text. I poured an early-morning Coke to settle my nerves, then went back to the bedroom.

Molly, what kind of note?

On my windshield. It said, “Mind your own business. Before you get hurt.”

If that doesn't convince you to mind your own business, nothing will.

That's not funny.

Sorry. You okay? Did you call the police?

I'm a little startled, but I'm okay. It's not like whoever did it tried to break in. What police? You're all gone.

Call Sergeant Jacoby, over in Rigby. He'll help. I've gotta go.

What if something happens to Beau? Or me?

Call the vet! Really, gotta go. Text me later, let me know what happens.

I will
. I couldn't see Beau's vet helping out if something happened to me, which told me where my life stood in his list of priorities. I thought he was supposed to serve and protect? Although I grudgingly admitted there wasn't much he could do from the Big Apple.

I looked up the Rigby Police Department and called. I sat through being placed on hold twice before Sergeant Jacoby came on. Glad this wasn't life-or-death.

“Sergeant Jacoby here.”

“Hello, Sergeant. My name is Molly Tyler. I just got a threatening note on my windshield. Detective Corsino is away. He told me to call you.” I paused to take a breath.

The sergeant cleared his throat. “You live in Destiny?”

“I'm sorry, I forgot that part, didn't I? Yes. If we need help I guess we call you.”

“That's all? No damage to your vehicle? Who do you think left the note?”

“My car is fine. Unless they planted a bomb underneath it. It happens to Stephanie Plum all the time.”

“Who's Stephanie Plum? I haven't heard of any bombs being planted in cars around this area.”

I laughed. “She's a character in that popular mystery series with numbers in the titles.”

He grunted. “I must have missed that one. Any idea who left the note?”

“It might have been Trey Hamilton. He owns an orchard here.”

“I know who he is. Why did you mention him? Did he sign it?”

I rolled my eyes. From the lazy drawl of his voice, I pictured the sergeant leaning back in his chair, feet up on his desk, a cowboy hat low on his forehead, chewing on a piece of grass. “No.”

“What makes you think he wrote it?” the sergeant countered.

“I went to the talk at Barking Mad Books that Enid Middlebrook gave. She's an author here in town. We were discussing who might have murdered Calista Danforth. I brought his name up and he may have heard me.”

“Seems a little implausible. I'll be over in a few to take a look. Where's the note now?”

“On my dining room table.”

“Don't touch it. Where do you live?”

I gave him my address. “I need to be at work before too long. Will you be over soon?”

“Yep. I'm leaving now.”

*  *  *

“Do you recognize the handwriting?” Sergeant Jacoby asked me. He had dusted my windshield wipers and the surrounding area for fingerprints, bagged the note after examining it—which took all of three seconds—and slipped it inside his briefcase. For the record, he was not wearing a cowboy hat, nor was he chewing on a blade of grass, as I had previously imagined.

“No.”

“Anyone who might want you to mind your own business?”

Detective Corsino immediately came to mind, but I doubted he'd snuck back in to town so he could leave a note on my car. “I really do think it might be Trey Hamilton.”

“I'll talk to him.”

“No! Don't do that,” I yelped.

Jacoby swiped a hand through his bristly crew cut and gave me a bewildered look. “You sound pretty convinced that it's him, but you don't want me to talk to him? There was no sense in my coming over then.”

I let his words sink in. “You're right. You can talk to him. I hope he doesn't retaliate.”

Jacoby frowned at me. “At this point, there's really not much more I can do than talk to him. I'll let you know what he says.”

The sergeant certainly seemed like a sensible man. I supposed I had no choice but to trust him. “Okay. Thank you.”

“If you get any more, give us a call.”

More? I hadn't thought of that. I saw the sergeant to the door. “Thank you, Sergeant. I will.”

My phone chirped two minutes later. Sean.

Did you call Jacoby?

Yes. He just left.

How come you didn't text me?

He left one second ago. He took the note. He said he'll talk to Trey.

Am I missing something? Trey left the note?

No. Maybe. I don't know. Who else would have left it?

I knew I shouldn't have checked on you. I'm thinking I'm better off not knowing any of this. Anyone else have a reason to want you to mind your own business?

You're checking on me?

I have to make sure Beau is in responsible hands.

Beau is fine. No threatening notes left for him. We bonded immediately, and he's a big hit at the bakery.

I'm glad Beau and you are getting along.

I paused for a moment. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear his answer, but I had to ask.

Do you think if someone leaves a note on your car they're going to come back and kill you or something?

Not necessarily. But seriously, Molly. If you're scared, take Beau and go stay with your parents, or a friend. You didn't answer my question. Anyone else have a reason to want you to mind your own business?

I don't have any enemies. What kind of people do you think I hang around with?

Stop talking to people about Calista's murder. You may think you know everyone in town, but there's a chance one of the people you think you know so well is a killer. They killed once, who says they won't again, and for what reason?

His words fell just short of making me feel better. I texted back.
You do think Trey's the killer, don't you? At least admit he's the most likely. Who else had a reason to kill her, right?

You know I'm not going to discuss that, or answer you. Do me a favor and be careful. I don't need another homicide to worry about.

His comment sent shivers down my spine.

Molly?

Yeah?

Check in with me every day. If something happens to you I need to find another caretaker for Beau.

That made me smile. I love a dry sense of humor.

And please let me know what Jacoby says when you hear from him. Talk later.

I thought about the handwriting on the note. Was it Lola? Maybe I should have mentioned her to the sergeant. Had Brian told her he wanted to invite me to their wedding and she flipped out? I sat on the couch and invited Beau to join me. I hugged him close, kissed the top of his head, and inhaled his clean doggy smell. Sean must have given him a bath recently. “I can't guarantee your owner is getting you back, you know.”

The handwritten note intrigued me, despite my being frightened by it. If it was Trey, a handwriting expert would be able to prove it. Maybe it was Olivia, trying to scare me, so I would stop investigating Calista's murder. No, it definitely wasn't her handwriting, and she wouldn't stoop to that. I was ashamed to even think her name in connection to this. Maybe the note wasn't even meant for me. Maybe the person left it at the wrong house. Sheesh! All the maybes were bringing on a headache.

I decided to call Olivia. I had lost all interest in going to the bakery this morning. Freak-out or not, I didn't want to keep this from her. I auto dialed Bread and Batter.

“Good morning, it's a wonderful day, thank you for calling Bread and Batter,” Olivia's cheerful voice answered seconds later.

I hated being the one to suck the cheerfulness out of her. “Hi, Liv. It's me. How's everything going?”

“So far so good. You coming in?”

“Don't get upset,” I said, plunging right in.

“Uh-oh. As soon as someone says ‘don't get upset,' that means whatever that someone is about to say will make the other person upset.”

The woman was right. “Someone left a threatening note on my car.”

“Oh my God. That's terrible!”

“I know. I think it might be Trey.”

“See? I was afraid something like this would happen to you. Did you call the police?”

“Yes. A Sergeant Jacoby came from Rigby and took it. I'm a little shaken. You care if I take a day?”

“Course not. But I was actually going to call you in few. Molly, I don't want to scare you any more than you already
are, but there's an envelope here with your name on it.”

“What?”

“I found it on the floor when I came in. Someone apparently slid it under the door. It's a plain white envelope with your name on it.”

I tried to stay calm. “Did you read it?”

“No.”

“Liv, please open it and read it to me.”

“Let me go get it. I left it in the back on the desk.”

I waited patiently as she set the phone down and went to retrieve the note. On second thought, I should have told her to leave it alone while I called Sergeant Jacoby. I didn't want her fingerprints all over it in case there were other fingerprints on it he could use.