wondered.
A few minutes later, the door opened and in strode David. His expression seemed intense and worried.
“Green eyes, what time did you get here to open this morning?” he asked as he leaned toward me over the counter.
“Same time as usual, about 4:15.” I backed away a step. “Why?” My legs felt numb and wobbly.
“Did you see anyone or talk to anyone?”
“No.” The full weight of what he asked hit me and I felt dizzy. “You’re asking me for an alibi. How did Barbara die?”
“You tell me,” he said looking at the counter.
“What? David. What is going on?”
“Okay, Barbara didn’t die of natural causes. I can’t tell you any of the details, but Myra, you are the main suspect.”
“Are you kidding? Me? Why on earth would I be a suspect?” Becoming indignant actually helped me to chase the shock away, but I tried to keep myself under control.
“I wish I was joking, but Barbara was murdered this morning between three and four and one of your recipe cards turned up under the body.”
“No. It’s not possible. You can’t think it was me. David, say you don’t think I had anything to do with it.”
He looked at me directly in the eye with his piercing eyes and I stared back pleading with mine for him to believe me. Tears started to well up, but I sniffed them back.
“I don’t think you did, but Peter and friends think your motive is pretty strong and will be coming to question you soon. That’s why I wanted to talk to you before that all happened so you could be prepared.”
“Prepared? You’re preparing me by accusing me of murder?” My heart raced.
“Hey, try and calm down. I wanted to talk to you about it before the others. I thought somehow it might be easier for you to hear it from, a—a friend.”
I stepped back to the counter, took a deep breath and reached for his hand.
“Thanks, friend.”
“Look, I don’t think that they can convict you on a recipe card at the scene, but I won’t lie, the investigation won’t be easy to take and in this town, perception is sometimes more powerful than reality.”
“You’re saying that I’m not just a suspect; I am THE suspect, aren’t you?”
He just stared at me.
“This is insane. They’re going to make the case fit me? I’m going to be framed for murder?”
“No, of course not, but you should have a good lawyer in your corner. I’d call Brian Cahill over in Caraway. He’s a good man and he grew up here.”
“I need you to tell me more about what happened.”
“I can’t right now. I need to get back to the station. I’ll swing by later. Just keep your head down, okay?”
“I’m going to prove to you and everyone in this town that I had nothing to do with this.”
He smiled for the first time since he’d come in and said, “That’s the spirit, Green Eyes.”
I grabbed my phone. I had to call Lizzie and tell her what happened.
***
I called Lizzie’s cell, but she didn’t pick up. I hung up because I had no idea how to actually leave a voicemail that said I had been accused of murder. I texted, 911 and waited for the phone to ring.
“What’s up?” Lizzie asked in a distracted voice. As an accountant, she needed to concentrate on adding or balancing or whatnot which is why she usually didn’t answer calls on her cell while working.
“Can you come to the bakery, like right now?” I said fighting tears.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“Barbara, Barbara’s dead and—“
“She’s what? Are you serious? How? What happened?”
“Lizzie, they think I killed her,” I blurted before she could fire any more questions.
“No way! How could they think that you, that you could? I’m there in five.”
I sat at the desk and zoned out. I couldn’t think. Then reality
A few minutes later, the door opened and in strode David. His expression seemed intense and worried.
“Green eyes, what time did you get here to open this morning?” he asked as he leaned toward me over the counter.
“Same time as usual, about 4:15.” I backed away a step. “Why?” My legs felt numb and wobbly.
“Did you see anyone or talk to anyone?”
“No.” The full weight of what he asked hit me and I felt dizzy. “You’re asking me for an alibi. How did Barbara die?”
“You tell me,” he said looking at the counter.
“What? David. What is going on?”
“Okay, Barbara didn’t die of natural causes. I can’t tell you any of the details, but Myra, you are the main suspect.”
“Are you kidding? Me? Why on earth would I be a suspect?” Becoming indignant actually helped me to chase the shock away, but I tried to keep myself under control.
“I wish I was joking, but Barbara was murdered this morning between three and four and one of your recipe cards turned up under the body.”
“No. It’s not possible. You can’t think it was me. David, say you don’t think I had anything to do with it.”
He looked at me directly in the eye with his piercing eyes and I stared back pleading with mine for him to believe me. Tears started to well up, but I sniffed them back.
“I don’t think you did, but Peter and friends think your motive is pretty strong and will be coming to question you soon. That’s why I wanted to talk to you before that all happened so you could be prepared.”
“Prepared? You’re preparing me by accusing me of murder?” My heart raced.
“Hey, try and calm down. I wanted to talk to you about it before the others. I thought somehow it might be easier for you to hear it from, a—a friend.”
I stepped back to the counter, took a deep breath and reached for his hand.
“Thanks, friend.”
“Look, I don’t think that they can convict you on a recipe card at the scene, but I won’t lie, the investigation won’t be easy to take and in this town, perception is sometimes more powerful than reality.”
“You’re saying that I’m not just a suspect; I am THE suspect, aren’t you?”
He just stared at me.
“This is insane. They’re going to make the case fit me? I’m going to be framed for murder?”
“No, of course not, but you should have a good lawyer in your corner. I’d call Brian Cahill over in Caraway. He’s a good man and he grew up here.”
“I need you to tell me more about what happened.”
“I can’t right now. I need to get back to the station. I’ll swing by later. Just keep your head down, okay?”
“I’m going to prove to you and everyone in this town that I had nothing to do with this.”
He smiled for the first time since he’d come in and said, “That’s the spirit, Green Eyes.”
I grabbed my phone. I had to call Lizzie and tell her what happened.
***
I called Lizzie’s cell, but she didn’t pick up. I hung up because I had no idea how to actually leave a voicemail that said I had been accused of murder. I texted, 911 and waited for the phone to ring.
“What’s up?” Lizzie asked in a distracted voice. As an accountant, she needed to concentrate on adding or balancing or whatnot which is why she usually didn’t answer calls on her cell while working.
“Can you come to the bakery, like right now?” I said fighting tears.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“Barbara, Barbara’s dead and—“
“She’s what? Are you serious? How? What happened?”
“Lizzie, they think I killed her,” I blurted before she could fire any more questions.
“No way! How could they think that you, that you could? I’m there in five.”
I sat at the desk and zoned out. I couldn’t think. Then reality
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