Page 81 of Murder on the Page

The dog landed its paws on the driver’s-side window. Tegan yelped. I shrieked.

Upon second glance, the dog wasn’t as big as I’d imagined. In fact, it most likely weighed forty or fifty pounds, but it was a pit bull, and as a girl I’d had a run-in with a pit bull, the kind of encounter that had left a half-inch scar on the underside of my chin, so I wasn’t a fan. I loved golden retrievers and Labradors and, well, any kind that was gentle—“gentle” being the operative word.Don’t hate me, pit bull owners.

Tegan pressed the button to start the Clubman and jammed the car into gear. The dog dropped to all fours, squealed its displeasure, and cut around the corner, out of sight.

When we arrived at the Blue Lantern, Tegan’s fingers were clutching the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were white.

“S-sorry,” she said, rubbing her hands to restore circulation. “I will never put you in danger again.”

I patted her shoulder. “Yes, you will. You love living on the edge as long as it doesn’t require public speaking.”

She grunted.

I gazed sideways at her, fear for my friend simmering within me. “Tegan, I’ve got to tell you something.”

Needless to say, Tegan was upset to hear the diner’s delivery guy couldn’t support her alibi, but she remained adamant that she’d been with Dennell. She described in detail holding Dennell’s hands while she suffered the shakes and dry heaves. I believed her and vowed I would clear her.

Later at home, after double-checking that the doors and windows on my place were closed and locked, I received a special order from Blessed Bean for raspberry-chocolate tarts—the sisters at Perfect Brew had raved about them. Deciding to bake here in the morning, I put together some dough mixtures and refrigerated them. An hour later, I climbed into bed, stared at the darkened ceiling, and rehashed the trek to Graham’s house. Was his pit bull a self-starter, or had Graham seen Tegan and me outside and sicced the dog on us? Darcy picked up on my unease and cuddled close to me. His purring helped me drift off to slumberland.

When I roused at five o’clock Saturday morning, I did the reasonable thing and peeked out all the windows. Seeing the coast was clear, I slipped on some leggings, a college sweatshirt, and my UGGs, and stepped outside. Flashlight in hand, I made a tour of the house and breathed easier when I didn’t find any suspicious footprints.

I went inside and fed Darcy, then made a slew of scones, cookies, and tarts, using the dough mixtures I’d put together before hitting the sack, and readied them for delivery.

At nine a.m., I changed into my work clothes and drove to Blessed Bean. To my surprise, Zach and his partner, Bates, were outside the café addressing a couple. Upon closer inspection,I realized the man in the denim jumpsuit was Quinby Canfield. His wife Candace, the singer with the shy, reserved voice, was standing by his side. She had huge, round eyes and a dimpled chin. Her coat was a mishmash of tweeds, like a throwback 1960s design. She held a guitar case in one hand and a to-go cup of something in the other. Had Zach stumbled upon Quinby and his wife on a morning coffee run, or had Zach known they would be there? Had he learned Quinby had accused Piper of murder? I’d missed the opportunity to tell him. Was he pressing Quinby as to why he’d say such a thing? Did Quinby have more to offer than he did the other day?

Zach caught sight of me and frowned. I parked on the street, retrieved the order of tarts, and, tray in hand, strode toward him.

“What are you doing here, Allie?” His voice was harsh. Cold. Clad in black, he looked ominous. To ease the tension that had crept into my shoulders and jaw just by being in the same vicinity as him, I imagined a cartoonish rain cloud hovering over his head and soaking him.

“I . . . I’m . . .” I sputtered. “I’m here on business. I’m delivering tarts.” I held up the tray.

“Uh-huh,” he said, but I could tell he didn’t believe me.

“I’m not here to interrupt. ‘It’s not personal . . . It’s strictly business.’ ”

“Are you quotingThe Godfather?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Are you impressed?” I offered a sassy grin.

He didn’t react.

“See you.” I reached for the door. With my hand on the handle, I said, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask, have you questioned Katrina Carlson? She—”

“Allie!”

Knowing my cheeks were blazing with embarrassment, I hurried inside and let the door swing shut. I didn’t look back.

When I completed all my deliveries, I sped to Feast for the Eyes. I had one week until the memorial and needed to finalize the schedule for the event. While on my delivery route, Tegan had texted me to say Dennell and a couple of her friends were going door-to-door in Dennell’s neighborhood to see if any of them had seen Tegan entering her home last Saturday morning. Giving her a thumbs-up, I then messaged her with a few of the particulars for the memorial. The tea would start at two. A quarter of an hour later, despite her fear of public speaking, to honor her aunt, Tegan would muster the courage to welcome the attendees. Noeline would say a few words about her sister. Vanna wanted to participate, so Tegan suggested she read a passage or two fromPride and Prejudice,but Tegan would moderate. She didn’t want her sister to have an open mic to air grievances.

Now I needed to pin down when I would set up and determine how many servers and cleanup crew I’d need to hire. I also wanted to know who would say the closing words. Perhaps Tegan should invite the pastor from Marigold’s church to speak.

When I entered the shop, Lillian was standing by the mystery aisle with Stella Burberry. There were people lingering in all of the other aisles, too, and a few were perusing books in the reading nook. Tegan and Chloe were at the sales counter, assisting customers.

“I brought a few goodies for taste-testing,” I said quietly to them as I placed pastry boxes on the desk behind the sales counter. I hadn’t brought enough for all the customers.

“Yum,” Tegan said. “Exactly what we needed.”

“For us, too?” Lillian asked as she and Stella made a beeline for me. Lillian had dolphinlike hearing, I decided. She offered apretty pleasesmile.

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