Cut to the Corpse (9 page)

“Well, that narrows it to half of the county,” Tenley said.

Brenna rose from her seat. Tenley had a point. She had forgotten what a womanizer Clue had been.

She gathered her bowl of water and glue brushes and put them in the sink in the break room. Then she collected the remaining paper cutouts and carefully tucked them into a manila folder that she stored in the bottom drawer of her faux Louis the XIV armoire.

The bells jangled on the front door and in walked Matt Collins, the bartender at the Fife and Drum, and an old high school flame of Tenley’s.

He was tall with broad shoulders and frequently wore his sleeves shoved up past his elbows as if it were a habit to keep them dry from the bar. His thick blond hair was tousled as if the wind had run its fingers through it on his way over to Vintage Papers.

“Afternoon, Brenna, Tenley,” he said. He looked more at home popping in here than he had a few months ago. He’d been instrumental in helping Brenna find the mayor’s killer, and Brenna had come to view him as a friend. Judging by the way Tenley lit up at the sight of him, however, she had more than friendship on her mind.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” Brenna said.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes, can you help me lift this chest onto the floor?” she asked.

“So, you’re just after my muscle,” he said.

“Yeah, pretty much,” she said.

He gave a put-upon sigh, which was ruined by his grin. They each took a side and hefted the chest off the worktable and shuffle-walked it over to a spot by the wall to dry.

“This is going to be really nice,” he said. “Miss Cartwright might land her man yet.”

“I hope so,” Tenley said. “She’s such a character. I’d like to see her happy.”

“It’s hard to change the ways of a confirmed bachelor, though,” Brenna said. She was hoping to lead Matt into a discussion about Clue’s love life.

“That’s true,” he agreed. “There’s a lot to recommend the single life.”

“What if a guy meets the right girl?” Tenley asked.

Brenna gave her a look, but Tenley’s attention was focused on Matt. Brenna got the feeling she was fishing, but not for the information Brenna wanted. Rather, she was inquiring for herself. Well, that wasn’t helpful at all!

Brenna cleared her throat to bring Matt’s attention back to her. “For example, I’m sure Clue Parker would have found his mate for life—eventually.”

Both Tenley and Matt looked at her.

“What?” she asked. “Not subtle enough?”

They exchanged a look that said they found her both amusing and worrisome.

“Brenna, truthfully, I came here because I knew you were the one who found Clue, and I wanted to know how you’re doing,” Matt said. “But now I’m getting the feeling that you are up to something.”

“Me?” Brenna asked. She batted her eyelashes as innocently as she could. Matt didn’t look like he was buying it. “Oh, all right, who was Clue Parker dating?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I am sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Good, so long as we’re all clear on that,” Matt said.

“You may as well have a seat,” Tenley offered. “She’s not going to let you go until she gets what she wants.”

Matt took a seat at the table and Brenna sat across from him. Tenley went to the break room and came back with a pot of coffee and three mugs.

As they fussed with their cream and sugar, Matt studied Brenna. “What does Nate have to say about you looking into the murder?”

“Nothing,” Brenna said.

“Nothing because he doesn’t know, or nothing because you told him to mind his own beeswax?”

“He’s out of town for a few days,” she conceded. “Not that it matters.”

“Uh-huh,” Matt said. “Why are you so interested in this murder?”

“Because I was there,” Brenna said.

“Try again,” Matt said.

“He’s very clever,” Brenna said to Tenley, who nodded and said, “I know.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Matt said, but Brenna could tell he was pleased.

She decided to put all of her cards on the table. “Okay. I don’t think Tara did it, but I do think she will get blamed because she’s not from around here, and I want to see if I can help.”

“We’re not that narrow-minded,” Matt said.

Brenna just looked at him. Tenley coughed into her fist.

“Oh, all right, some townspeople might be narrower than others,” he said. He took a long sip from his coffee. “You know Clue was working his way through every bedroom in town.”

“Not mine,” Tenley said. They both looked at her. “I just wanted that clear.”

Matt grinned at her, and Brenna had to stifle the urge to groan.

“Ahem, yes, well,” she said to get his attention. “Was there anyone he had any sort of a relationship with?”

“A few lasted longer than others,” he said. “Bonnie Jeffries from the post office was his first real love, but she dumped him when he cheated on her with her mother.”

Brenna and Tenley both winced at the same time.

“Then there was Lisa Sutton,” Tenley said. “Remember, they used to circle the town green on his motorcycle until Mayor Ripley threatened to have it impounded for violating the noise ordinance.”

“Yeah, but she ran off to be a chef in Boston,” Matt said. “He did go with Julie Harper for a while.”

Brenna sat up. “Julie over at the salon?”

“That’s the one,” Tenley said. She spooned in more sugar and stirred. “I heard it was a pretty bad breakup.”

“Yeah,” Matt agreed with a shudder.

Brenna suspected this was a vast understatement. “What happened?”

“Well, she didn’t go all
Fatal Attraction
and boil a bunny or anything,” Tenley said. “But Clue did have a restraining order out on her for a while, something about stalking.”

“Great,” Brenna said. “Maybe I’ll start with the one who got cheated on first.”

She noticed that neither of them offered to ride shotgun. That couldn’t be good.

“I did stop by for another reason,” Matt said. “I was hoping to treat you two to dinner at the Fife and Drum. Our chef is trying out a new entrée, Ahi tuna steaks with wasabi, and I knew you’d had a rough day and thought you could use a good meal.”

Brenna was touched, truly, but she already had a date.

“I can’t,” she said. “I’m watching Hank for Nate, and I really don’t think I want to be late in feeding him his dinner. It might bode ill for my cabin.”

“Another time then?” Matt asked.

“No, don’t put it off on my account,” Brenna said. “Tenley can go. She has no plans.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” she said.

“Yes, you can,” Brenna said. “In fact, I insist. Matt, take her to dinner and I’ll lock up the shop tonight.”

“But . . .”

“No buts,” Brenna said. She stood and gathered their mugs. “Be sure to order seconds of the amaretto cheese-cake for me.”

Matt stood with a smile. “Well, if that’s an order, shall we?”

“Well, okay, I guess,” Tenley agreed.

Funny, for someone who sounded so reluctant, she looked pretty happy about this turn of events.

Brenna locked the door behind them with a wave and a smile. She had been hoping to shove them together at some point, as it was obvious they still liked each other, and it was equally obvious that neither of them had any idea what to do about it. She was pleased to help out, even if it meant skipping a free dinner.

She drove home with the windows down, letting in the warm evening air and the musical chirp of the spring peepers, small frogs that inhabited the woods around Morse Point Lake. She was looking forward to seeing Hank. There was a little part of her that wished she were going home to Nate, too. But if she couldn’t have the man, she’d happily take the dog.

Hank bounced in circles of canine delight when Brenna pushed open the door of her cabin. He jumped up and licked her chin, her ear, and her nose. She laughed as she wiped off the doggie slobber with her sleeve. Dinner would have to wait. Hank needed some playtime.

She grabbed two of his tennis balls and they headed to the lake. She threw one in a high arch and Hank launched himself off of the bank, landed with a big splash, and dog-paddled out to the ball. He retrieved it with his mouth, and Brenna could swear he was grinning. He climbed ashore and shook out his shaggy mane, making sure to splash her—at least she was pretty sure he’d planned that.

She threw the ball again and watched as he dove for it. The late June evening was cooling and the breeze off of the water felt good on her skin. She glanced up and saw her neighbor Twyla leaving her cabin with a beach towel over her arm.

Twyla skipped across the grass toward Brenna. She said skipping kept her young. She was somewhere in her late fifties or early sixties, although she didn’t look it, and Brenna believed her.

Twyla was a sculptor, who worked primarily with metal. Behind her cabin, a field of wind sculptures was growing. With rounded shapes, some looked like big steel flowers that spun when the softest breeze captured their metallic petals. Others looked like long, curving spirals, and wound their way from the ground up into the sky. Brenna liked to go and walk amongst them on windy days and feel the power of nature and steel combined into a beautiful form.

Twyla joined Brenna by the water’s edge and handed her the towel. “You’re going to need that.”

“Thanks.” Brenna dabbed at her face and shirt.

“Nate always forgets to bring a towel, too,” she said. “But usually he goes fishing afterward and lets Hank air dry.”

“I’m not going fishing,” Brenna said.

“I figured,” Twyla said. She tossed her thick gray braid over her shoulder and brushed a hand over her iridescent green, broomstick skirt. “So, I heard you were the one who found Clue Parker with an axe lodged in his head.”

“There was no axe,” Brenna spluttered. “And his head was intact. Honestly, how do these rumors get so out of control?”

“But you did find him?” Twyla asked.

“Yes,” she admitted. Hank jumped onto the bank and shook himself from head to tail. Brenna took the ball he dropped and threw it as far as she could.

“Are you okay?” Twyla asked. Her eyes were round with concern, and Brenna was grateful.

“I will be,” she said. “Better than Clue at any rate.”

“It’s a bad business,” Twyla said. “First the mayor and now this young man. What do you suppose is happening to our sleepy little Morse Point?”

“I wish I could say,” Brenna said.

Twyla said nothing but remained silently beside her. She had an inner serenity from her metalwork that Brenna understood. She felt the same way about her paper work. Taking cutouts and a beat-up old piece of furniture and marrying the two into something beautiful made sense to her, as if she could create order out of chaos.

There was no sense to be made out of Clue’s murder, however. She could still see him, lying in the bed in a pool of blood, dead. But who had killed him and why?

The sun dipped lower and the breeze blew colder. To Brenna it felt as if the ghost of the recently departed passed through her on the way to his next stop. But maybe she just needed to go get her sweater.

Brenna did not need any stamps. She had bought the Liberty Bell Forever stamps the last time they’d been offered, and she’d bought a lot of them. Still, she didn’t have any packages to mail or bills to post, so buying stamps was the best excuse she could come up with to pay Bonnie Jeffries a visit.

She didn’t know what to expect, but the cute little red-head at the counter sure wasn’t it. She was allover petite, from her tiny upturned nose to her dainty little feet. She wore her hair in a short cap of strawberry curls, freckles were sprinkled liberally over her skin, and her eyes were the brightest blue, almost as if they were lit from the inside, that Brenna had ever seen.

She loitered by the display of packing materials, waiting while Mr. Portnoy mailed his sister in Illinois a big block of cheese and again while Mrs. Hutchins tried to figure out what was cheaper, first class or priority, on a wedding gift for her sister in Florida. It was a sister that she wasn’t particularly fond of, and it was her third wedding, so she ended up mailing it book rate, figuring her sister would probably be divorced again by the time it arrived anyway.

When it was just Bonnie and her in the small office, Brenna approached the counter.

“May I help you?” Bonnie asked.

“Hi, I’m . . .” she began, but Bonnie cut her off and said, “Brenna Miller, who works at Vintage Papers for Tenley Morse, who solved the mayor’s murder last April and who found the body of Clue Parker yesterday.”

“That’s me,” Brenna confirmed. Apparently, Bonnie had a little bit of firecracker in her.

“And I’m betting you’re here to ask me about my relationship with Clue Parker and try to figure out if I was angry enough at him to want him dead, like every other busybody in town?”