Page 19 of Murder on the Page

“It slipped my mind. Sorry.”

“Go on, Tegan,” he said.

She licked her lips. “I got restless, so I left and walked home.” Tegan and Winston lived about ten blocks from me. Not too far, but strolling at that time of night was not the safest thing to do. And slipping into her house after three, when she and her husband were on the outs, didn’t sound like the wisest idea.

“Did anyone see you?” Zach asked.

“A man with a leashed puppy relieving itself and the janitor at the mini mart. But neither of them would recognize me,” she said. “I was bundled up.”

“They’d remember your coat,” I suggested. “It’s puffy and white and knee-length. It makes her look like a roly-poly bug.”

“It does not,” Tegan said, taking umbrage.

Where’s her coat now, seeing as she hadn’t changed the rest of her outfit?

“I left the coat at home,” she said, answering my unasked question. “I knew I’d be inside here all day.” She blinked rapidly. Was she trying to signal me to keep quiet? Why not come clean? She hadn’t killed her aunt—of that, I was certain.

“Didn’t your husband see you?” Zach pressed.

“He’s traveling. On business.”

That was easily verifiable. Was it true or false?

“What did you do when you arrived home?” Zach asked.

“The usual. Brushed my teeth. Read for a few minutes. Slept.”

Sleep must have been the only thing she’d done. She hadn’t showered. Hadn’t run a comb through her hair. Hadn’t put on a stitch of new makeup.

“Did any of your neighbors see you?” Zach asked.

She shook her head. “Their houses were dark.”

That was probably true. Mostly older people populated her block. Marigold, who had been the executrix for an elderly female friend, had privately negotiated the sale of the friend’s house when the woman passed away in debt. Marigold hadeven made the down payment for Tegan and Winston. To be fair, she’d helped Vanna buy her first house, too.

I studied Vanna, off to one side, arms folded, her tongue working the inside of her cheek, and decided she should thank her lucky stars she could cook. Otherwise, with her rancid personality, no one would hire her.

“Allie,” Zach said.

I refocused on him. “Yes?”

“Did you hear Tegan leave your place?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I heard her rummaging around at three. I figured she’d settle down sooner or later, so I went back to sleep.”

“Your cat didn’t startle when she left the house?”

“Darcy? He’s the rare cat that can sleep through a lightning storm.”

Zach posed a few more questions to Tegan, about her relationships with Marigold and her mother, as well as the duties of her job. He asked if she donated time to the theater foundation, like her aunt did. She said no, but she volunteered at the blood bank. All seemed like pointless questions, but I got the feeling Zach was trying to take the measure of her. After all, he didn’t know her well. He’d merely interacted with her as the shop’s clerk. Perhaps he was trying to trip her up. Before he released her, he asked her for her alibi again. She reiterated what she’d said earlier, not changing a word. Had she rehearsed it?

Zach clasped my elbow and whispered, “Allie, stay close to a phone in case I need you.”

On any other day, that request might have sent goose bumps, the good kind, down my spine, but not today. It sent chills.

Tegan bid her mother good-bye, I left my Ford Transit parked on the street, and she and I strolled to Ragamuffin. I needed a scone. Yes, it would be one of the six dozen scones I’d delivered yesterday, but I was willing to pay for it. I was starving.

Ragamuffin, which was located in one of the connectingcourtyards between Holly Street and Elm, was packed with customers. I’d never seen the place lacking in attendance. Its proprietary small-batch, free-trade coffee was the best. The baristas were gifted when it came to adding all sorts of unique syrups to their coffee beverages, like lavender, honey-maple, Irish cream, and more. Their green teas were fabulous, as well, with additions of cinnamon, ginger, and mint. An apple cider vinegar concoction was decidedly delicious. The exterior patio held a half-dozen bistro tables, but it was too cool to sit out, so I left Tegan at the teensy bar, which was standing room only, and moved to the register to order. I peered into the pastry case that held butterscotch cookies, gluten-free ricotta cake, cinnamon buns, and lemon scones. I ordered a cinnamon bun for Tegan and a scone for me, plus two lattes.

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