Flea Market Fatal (8 page)

The longer she sat in his office, the more Missy found herself wanting to ask Tyler all these questions that were totally inappropriate given the context. Why had he left the job in Philadelphia? What was his marital status? Why had he come back here, now? But she drove those thoughts away and focused on the issue at hand.

"Have you talked to Cooper Merritt?" Missy asked.

Tyler shook his head. "I can't discuss an open investigation with you."

"Because I'm a suspect?"

"Because you're not a member of this police department."

His eyes briefly gave her a onceover. Had he just checked her out? It made her feel good and self-conscious all at once. They had been together a long time ago and she had looked very different back then. Sure, she had always been bigger than the other girls but back then it had been marginal. Squirming in her seat, she chewed on her bottom lip.

"Why did you come back?" she blurted out.

He smirked. "Why did you stay?"

Because you never asked me to come with you,
she didn't say. "It just felt wrong to leave Mom all by herself."

He nodded and leaned back in his seat. "There are a lot of reasons why I came back."

Missy looked down for a moment. She wasn't used to this Tyler. He was so guarded, shut off to her. The boy she had dated had been always honest and kind and very easy to read. The man sitting across from her was bottled up. It must have been the job that had done this to him. She couldn't see Tyler progressing to this state on his own.

"Do you have any other suspects?"

"Melissa, I can't discuss this with you." He sat forward and looked deep into her eyes. "And I have to advise you not to take matters into your own hands here."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He sighed. "This is police business. Let me do my job."

"I'm supposed to sit back and do nothing while the chief thinks I'm the killer?" Her anger rose. "That's not fair."

"If it looks like you're interfering with the investigation, people will think—”

"Will think I'm unduly influencing you?"

"No." The skin around his jaw hardened. "They'll think you're the killer, trying to make herself look innocent."

She looked away. "I think you're just worried about how you'll look if I help. Or, heaven forbid, if I solve this crime myself."

His ears turned red. "Melissa, there is a killer out there. What do you think that person is going to do when they realize you're trying to find them?"

Her blood ran cold. He was right. Up until this point she hadn’t been worried about those repercussions because she'd been most concerned with clearing her mother's and her own name. But still, Missy didn't want to appear weak in his eyes. Since college she’d been able to take care of herself and she hadn't needed Tyler Brock of all people. Why was this any different?

"I'm not going to sit around and do nothing."

Tyler sort of smiled. "You haven't changed much, Melissa."

"You have."

That sort of smile slipped away and the wall came back up.

“I'm running late, Mom. Can you drop me at the bookstore and take the truck?"

"Sure."

Missy got into the passenger side, gently nudging a half-comatose Cody over. Her mom got behind the wheel.

“I miss this old thing,” Mom said.

It had been Dad’s truck. After he’d passed away, Mom had gifted it to Missy.

The first five minutes of their ride had been silent, with Missy mulling over her conversation with Tyler and all its implications. She couldn't get a read on him. Part of her suspected he still had feelings but any time he started to open up he just as quickly withdrew.

And more importantly, what did
she
feel? She hadn't been with him since high school and, like she'd pointed out, he was a different man now. In her mind she still expected him to be that handsome young man with an open smile and carefree manner. But he wasn't that anymore. In fact, he was significantly different now.

And did she want to date a cop? She had nothing against the police. They had one of the most difficult, demanding jobs in the world and whenever some horrid story of brutality was reported, they were all painted with the same broad strokes. She didn't know if she could be a police officer’s girlfriend, let alone wife.

Whoa, where did the
w
word come from?
Wife
. She had never imagined herself as anybody’s wife before. She was alone, but not lonely and fiercely independent.

Mom broke the silence. "So what happened in there? Did he confess his undying love for you?"

Missy decided to dodge that question. "I should ask
you
what happened in there. Why did they let you go?"

Mom looked back out the windshield. "He didn't tell you?"

"He said your story checked out."

Mom nodded. "Well, that's why."

"How did he confirm you were out for a drive?"

Mom stiffened. "Don't worry about that, it's not important. What's important is that man still has feelings for you."

"Yeah, when he isn't trying to arrest me." Missy came to a stop at a light. There was little traffic on the country road. She drummed the steering wheel with her thumbs. "And P-S, he doesn't have feelings for me still. That was a long time ago."

"Missy, you never give yourself enough credit."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're a beautiful, strong, independent woman. Men like that."

Translation: she shouldn't worry about her weight. But Missy didn't feel like getting into
that.
There was too much to deal with already.

"Thanks, Mom."

Mom dropped her at work. Missy gave Cody a pat and waved goodbye before walking into the bookstore. She was twenty minutes late to work on account of her stop at the vet and then the police station, but she’d called her boss ahead of time to let Brett know. He was understanding and she’d always been a good employee, never taking advantage of his kindness.

Books and Crannies was busy when she stepped inside. The Little Old Ladies were in their usual spot, sitting in the three high-backed chairs Brett kept along the near wall. By quick count, she estimated there were twenty people browsing, an unheard of number of people in the store at the same time. When all eyes shifted her way, it only took a moment to realize why it was so crowded. Grove City didn’t see too many murders and the people were all morbidly drawn to the investigation, wanting to get a good look at the prime suspect herself: Missy DeMeanor.

Noreen was working the register and winked at her. Missy smiled politely as she made her way through the crowd to drop her bag in the back of the store where Brett’s office was.

Her boss was back there, reviewing something on his computer. “Hey, Missy. Everything alright?”

She fake-smiled. “Other than the fact I’m suspected of murder, my mother spent a night in jail, and my dog has a broken rib, everything is alright.”

He grimaced. “Sorry to hear that. But I’m glad you’re here.” He quickly perked up. “This is as busy as we’ve ever been.”

***

The customers browsed for longer than usual, not so patiently waiting for their opportunity to sidle over to Missy and express their condolences or ask probing questions about the murder scene. At first she gladly answered their questions, at least, what she thought she could answer, but after an hour of non-stop inquiries mostly around the same things, Missy had had enough. She pulled her boss aside.

"Brett, I can't take this. It’s like they’re expecting a press conference or something."

She had been kidding. What she'd really wanted was for him to make some kind of announcement, but instead his eyes lit up like high beams.

"Great idea, Miss. Let me get you set up in the back."

"Brett, wait—"

But he was already gone, and the next customer was waiting to be checked out. Missy smiled pleasantly at Alice Patmore. She had been the school nurse for forty years and had just retired last year. Missy remembered the one time she'd fallen off the jungle gym in third grade and had woken up on the bed in Nurse Patmore's office. Alice had always been so kind.

"Missy, how have you been?" Alice slid a baker's dozen of old mystery novels across the desk for Missy to ring up.

"I've been better." She smiled pleasantly. "But it's nice to see you."

Missy always remembered Alice with grey hair, but now it had turned white. The older woman leaned in while Missy was checking the prices on these books and tallying them.

"I think it was Oliver McCleary."

Missy hit the wrong button on the register, messing up the tally. She'd have to start over.

"Oliver McCleary?"

Alice slowly nodded. "I'm not one to gossip, Missy, but I can't sit by and do nothing. Oliver McCleary did this. I'd be willing to bet my house on it."

Oliver McCleary. He had been a few years behind Missy in school, but he'd already had a reputation for mischief and crime before he'd even entered ninth grade. McCleary had boosted his first car in seventh grade and beat poor Lenny Brewster to a pulp in eighth grade. He was mean, vicious, and almost boastful of his complete disregard for anybody else. Missy knew he'd been up the river for a few years but hadn't known he was back in town.

"Why would Oliver want to hurt Mr. Switzer?"

"Didn't you hear?"

Apparently Missy wasn't hearing much of anything these days. With this being a small town, she thought she was pretty much plugged into everything. Apparently not.

Alice went on. "Albert talked his niece out of marrying the guy."

Missy knew that Switzer had a sister and that she was married to an obscenely rich day trader. She wouldn't have put it past Oliver McCleary to seduce that woman’s daughter in the hopes of leeching off his wealthy in-laws, with an eye toward eventually inheriting a fortune. Also, the cause of death was extremely violent and personal, belying a deep-seeded hatred. She had to admit that Alice might have been right.

Alice shrugged. "I thought you should know, anyway, with your Mom getting arrested."

"Thanks. And actually, she was released this morning."

"Oh." Alice looked like she wanted to ask more. "Well, that's good."

Missy had to start over and re-ring Alice's books. Thirteen mysteries for just under thirty bucks. A pretty good deal. She was just about to ring her next customer, Mort Reed, when Brett stepped into the checkout area and called for everybody's attention.

"Good morning!" He was all smiles as he turned to look everybody in the eye. "At twelve noon, Missy is going to hold a press conference in the reading area. I invite you all to come."

The crowd burst into applause. Missy wanted to crawl under the counter and hide. She wondered briefly why Brett had scheduled the conference for noon, an hour away. But the answer came to her quickly. He wanted the people in the store to browse longer (and be tempted to buy more books) and he also wanted them to text or call their friends about it as well.

She shuddered. Missy hated being the center of attention. She was an okay public speaker, but she didn't enjoy it. And her outfit today was pretty blah, blah, blah, with the exception of her jeans which just didn't fit her right in the hips anymore...

Noreen appeared at her side. "You're going to be great,
and
we're going to sell every book in this store today."

At noon, Brett purposely closed the registers and gave people in line little numbered sticky notes so they wouldn't lose their place in the queue. Then he encouraged everybody to come into the back where local authors did readings. Missy followed the herd and could barely walk. Every square inch of the store was occupied. It was like trying to get up from your seats at a baseball game to go to the bathroom, where everybody had to shift and bump and jostle just to give her a few inches to maneuver. Being in a crowd made her think about her hips. More than once she inadvertently bumped into somebody. Before she even reached the podium, her face was on fire.

As Brett opened the meeting, Missy went over in her mind what she wanted to say. Part of her still couldn't process the fact that this was actually happening. It seemed like half the town had turned out to listen to her. They were so crammed in to the tiny bookstore, she was certain Aaron would go berzerk from a fire safety perspective.

"Missy?"

She realized Brett had turned the floor over to her. He shuffled two steps backward and planted himself on the wall behind the podium he'd set up. Missy took her place and faced the crowd...there were so many people, and half of them had their phones out to take pictures...

...her head got light...

...and was about to faint...

but her hand latched onto the podium and she somehow righted the ship. The room slowly came back into focus.

She gathered herself and tried to calm her racing mind. "As you all know—"

"Can't hear you in the back!" somebody shouted.

"Oh. Sorry. As you all know—”

"We can't hear you from over here!"

Missy looked left and saw twenty people stuffed into the tiny children's section. They were partially blocked by the display separating that section from where Missy stood.

"I can't scream the entire time." Missy remembered to smile. "So you'll just have to do your best."

There was murmuring and before the crowd got out of control, Missy launched into what she'd planned to say. She wanted to get this over as quickly as possible.

"As you all know by now, Albert Switzer was murdered on Saturday morning. I had gone over there to..."

As she looked around, Missy spotted two mean faces: Loretta and Gordon.

"...to purchase an item in his garage sale. I had to make change for the item so I called out to him and knocked on his door. I knew he was home because I'd spoken to him about twenty or thirty minutes before I got there. His dog, Cody, was barking like crazy, and when Mr. Switzer didn't respond, I went inside. I found his body on the floor in the living room and—"

"Ms. DeMeanor?"

Everybody laughed at the pun that was her name. Missy tried to spot the person in the crowd that had interrupted her. It took a moment, but finally she saw the tiny woman with glasses waving her hand around.

"Yes?" Missy asked.

"Ellen Stein, I'm with the Grove City Gazette—"

"You manage the Classifieds!" somebody blurted out, and the crowd reacted with hearty laughter. Missy didn't read the local papers (or any papers, for that matter), but the suggestion was that this Ellen Stein wasn't a
real
reporter. She immediately felt bad for the woman and decided to answer her questions in earnest.

Ellen had to shout over the laughter. "I'm a
reporter
with the Gazette. What were you there to buy?"

Missy didn't see the harm in answering that. "An old cabinet."

"Why?"

"I refurbish and repurpose old furniture for sale at local flea markets. I planned to get this piece ready for Saturday's Tri-County fair."

"Your mother was arrested yesterday," Ellen said. "Care to comment?"

"She was released this morning."

"Why did the police release her so quickly?"

Missy was beginning to not feel that bad for Ellen. "Uh, you'll have to ask Ty—I mean, Officer Brock."

She didn't even know what his official title was.

"Isn't it true that you and Officer Brock were lovers?"

Missy's face scorched. "We were high school sweethearts. What we did as teenagers is none of your business."

Ellen didn't appear the least bit dressed down. "Isn't it true that..."

Ellen continued to talk, but Missy had spotted an interesting face in the crowd: Cooper Merritt.

He was about ten years older than her but kept in good shape. He was tall enough to stand in the very back and have no problem seeing over everybody, which put him a good sight over six feet. Cooper had salt and pepper hair that was just beginning to thin on top. Missy froze in horror as his eyes locked on hers. His expression was inscrutable. She'd never seen him in the bookstore before and assumed the only reason he'd come out was for her impromptu press conference. But why? From what she knew of him, Cooper wasn't the type to be interested in gossip. Most men weren't. His presence seemed odd and was setting off all kinds of alarms in her head. If—

"Ms. DeMeanor?"

Missy's eyes snapped back like a rubber band to Ellen. "Yes?"

There was a ripple of laughter through the crowd at her having been caught not paying attention.

"I asked you about your family's unique history with Albert Switzer and his ex-wife."

How to answer that one? It seemed like the whole town knew more about it than her. Missy took a deep breath.

"That was a long time ago, and to be honest, I didn't even know the details until after Mr. Switzer was dead."

"You expect us to believe—"

"The old prick was a tough son of a bitch, it probably took somebody
big
to do it."

Missy didn't know what offended her more, the fact that someone had just spoken ill of the dead or the fact that someone had implied she had done it by using the word
big.

She scanned the crowd, ready to knock whoever it was down a few pegs. But when she spotted the speaker, her blood ran cold.

Oliver McCleary was standing in the back of the Thriller and Mystery section. Three feet of space had opened up all around him as people tried to distance themselves. Oliver wore all black and had his hood pulled up over his head, casting his mean, wild-eyed face in shadow. He stood unnaturally still while all eyes shifted his way. The hostile and judgmental stares he received did nothing to faze him. It was like he had a social force field.

“Yeah, whoever did it had to be able to throw their
weight
around.” He smiled, or at least tried to. His face couldn’t seem to make the gesture.

Missy looked him dead in the eye. If she had been alone with him, she would have run in the opposite direction. But with the crowd behind her, Missy figured it was safe to challenge him.

“Where were
you
Saturday morning, Oliver?”

That alien smile stayed firmly in place as he shrugged. “Sleeping. Friday night was spectacular.”

Might as well interrogate him while she had a roomful of people to back her. “Can anybody confirm that?”

“Yeah, two somebodies, both of them women.”

Missy almost threw up in her mouth at the thought of McCleary spending an evening with two women. Come to think of it, one would have given her the same reaction. Why were women drawn to sleaze like Oliver McCleary?

“How’d you kill that old bastard?” he asked. “Sit on him?”

Missy felt all eyes in the room. They were looking at her plus-sized body. It had been a long time since she’d been this embarrassed and actually wanted to die of shame, probably not since middle school when Abby Pualwan had told all the boys what size underwear she wore.

She wanted to run out of the bookstore. Everybody was
looking
at her.

But she couldn’t run away. She was a grown woman and she’d done a lot more with her life than Oliver McCleary had. Who was he?

“McCleary, how old are you? Eleven? Are you seriously still making fun of people about their weight?”

“I wasn’t joking,” he said. “I was being serious.”

“McCleary.”

Tyler made his way through the crowd. “I think it’s time you left.”

McCleary faced him and the smirk turned into something dangerous. “I’m just here for the press conference, pig.”

The insult landed harmlessly on Tyler. He’d probably been called a lot worse in Philadelphia. “Come on.”

McCleary slapped his hand away. “I’m allowed to be here.”

Tyler’s body language changed. He got a little lower and assumed an aggressive posture. It reminded her of seeing him all those years ago on the basketball court. If it weren’t for the situation, he would have looked like he was getting ready to catch a pass and make a layup.

“This is private property, and I’ve gotten complaints. Isn’t that right, folks?” Tyler said.

It took a moment, but then all at once everybody chimed in. Brett asked Tyler if he could remove McCleary from the store, and it was all the justification that Tyler needed.

“Out,” Tyler said.

McCleary shouldered Tyler on his way out. The crowd parted for him quickly as he stormed out of the bookstore.

Missy had never been so happy to see Tyler. Though she felt like she could have handled the situation by herself, she was still grateful for his intervention. McCleary was off, and there was no telling what might have happened if he’d been allowed to go unchecked. The crowd was mostly stay-at-home moms or retirees, and Brett wasn’t very physically imposing. Yes, without Tyler here, McCleary could have done anything.

Once McCleary was out of the bookstore, Tyler took his eyes off the door and turned to Missy. She flashed a grateful smile at him, her knight in shining armor. And she didn’t care if everybody knew how safe he’d made her feel. They were already gossiping about the two of them, so who cared?

“Thank y—” she started to say.

Tyler cut her off. “This press conference is over.”

The good feelings of the moment quickly passed. “What?”

“I need to speak to you.” Tyler slogged through the crowd toward her.

“You can’t prohibit me from talking to the press.”

“There aren’t any reporters here!” somebody yelled. Ellen Stein whirled to see who that was, but the culprit had already ducked out the door.

Missy folded her arms as Tyler met her at the podium. “Ever hear of the First Amendment?”

“Damnit, Melissa.” Tyler lowered his voice. “This is a…”

He stopped talking and looked around. Plenty of stragglers were hanging around, not so secretly watching them talk. They were all hoping to get some more gossip. It was times like these Missy hated small towns. Everybody knew everything.

Tyler said, “Is there someplace we can talk in private?”

“You can say what you have to say here.”

He took a deep breath. This was the first time in the last few days she’d seen him lose his cool. It had been a rare occurrence, come to think of it, when they’d dated in high school. Even back then, he’d been unflappable, a smile never far from his face.

“Melissa.” His eyes pleaded with her. “Please.”

She wanted to stick it to him, but then she thought about how he’d taken care of McCleary. She owed him for that.

“Let’s go in Brett’s office.”