Wine and Punishment Page 17

“Honestly,” she went on as if she hadn’t heard me, “I don’t know what Gilda was thinking encouraging you to stay there.”

  “Aunt Gilda didn’t try to sway me either way,” I said with a roll of my eyes. We’d been through this many times before. “It was my decision to move here, my decision to buy the pub. And now it’s also my decision to stay here in Shady Creek.”

  “Sometimes, Sadie, I really don’t know what to do with you.”

  “I know, Mom,” I said with a sigh.

  “I guess I’ll just have to hope that you come to your senses soon.”

  By that she meant leaving Shady Creek and getting a “normal job” like the one I’d had in the human resources department of a Boston company before my former life fell apart. She would have preferred that I’d gone to dental or law school, but in her mind almost anything—except working at a tattoo parlor—would be better than owning a pub.

  At least this time she didn’t go on about how my older brother, Michael, never caused her this much stress. She was always lamenting how Taylor and I weren’t more like her oldest child.

  “But life would be so boring if we were all dull like Michael,” Taylor liked to say to her, which always got a reaction, though never a good one.

  I usually kept quiet and let her rant, though secretly I did agree with Taylor. Michael was a tax lawyer with his own firm. I could see how that made her proud, but I didn’t understand why she wanted so badly for me and Taylor to follow a similar path. It wasn’t like we’d turned out badly. I didn’t think we had, anyway.

  I apologized to her again for not calling sooner and told her I had some things to attend to. I was making excuses, but at least they got me off the phone. The aftermath of the call left me feeling gloomier than ever, and I sat there staring at the coffee table for several minutes. The only thing that nudged me out of my melancholy trance was my phone chiming to indicate that I’d received a new text.

  The message was from Shontelle, asking if I wanted to hang out at her place for a bit. I took her up on the offer, not particularly eager to be alone with my low spirits.

  “I’ll see you later, Wims,” I said, giving him a good-bye scratch on the head as I pulled on my coat.

  I passed through the pub on my way out, making a stop in the Mary Stewart room. I headed directly for the shelf running along the exposed stone wall and the row of yellow spines lined up next to a collection of blue ones. There was a small gap where one book had been removed. I pulled out the volume next to the gap and slipped it into my purse before setting off to Shontelle’s apartment located over her gift shop.

  Shontelle buzzed me in through the street-level door, and I climbed the steps to her apartment. As soon as it opened, eight-year-old Kiandra jumped up and down and threw her arms around my waist.

  “Sadie! Guess what! Guess what!”

  “Umm . . . you’re turning into a pumpkin?”

  Kiandra released me and clapped her hands over her mouth as she giggled. “No!”

  “Really?” I said, eyeing her cloud of curly hair. “I could have sworn I saw a stem growing out of your head.”

  She giggled harder. “I’m not turning into a pumpkin. I’m going to dance a solo at my next dance recital.”

  “That’s fantastic! I can’t wait to see it.”

  “So you’ll come watch?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I assured her.

  She told me all about the upcoming recital and showed off a snippet of her solo before Shontelle told her it was time to get into her pajamas and brush her teeth.

  “Awww, Mom.”

  “If you go without complaint, you can read for ten minutes before the lights go out.”

  “But I finished my Nancy Drew,” Kiandra said, sounding forlorn.

  I opened my purse. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I brought this along.” I held up the yellow book.

  “Yes!” Kiandra bounced up and down. “Thank you, Sadie!” She took the book from me and hugged it to her chest. “One second.”

  She disappeared into her bedroom and returned a moment later with The Secret of Red Gate Farm, the previous book in the series. I’d been loaning them to her one at a time. She’d been a reluctant reader until I’d introduced her to Nancy Drew a few weeks earlier. Since then she’d been reading the series hungrily. Shontelle had even caught her reading under her blankets with a flashlight on more than one occasion. That was something I’d done many a time when I was young, and as stern as Shontelle acted in front of her daughter when that happened, she’d confessed to me that she was pleased Kiandra now loved reading so much that she was sneaking in more time for it.

  With The Clue in the Diary to look forward to, Kiandra obediently got ready for bed. After the promised ten minutes of reading had stretched to twenty, we both said good night to Kiandra, and Shontelle switched off the light and shut her bedroom door.

  “I can’t thank you enough for introducing her to Nancy Drew,” Shontelle said once we were in the kitchen. “If only I’d known that’s all it would take to get her hooked on reading.”

  “It’s my pleasure. I couldn’t get enough of Nancy Drew when I was her age.”

  Shontelle poured each of us a small glass of red wine, and I curled up in one of her arm chairs while she settled on the couch.

  “Any more news about your prowler?” she asked once we were seated.

  “No.” I swirled my wine in the glass.

  “Please be careful until the police catch whoever’s responsible.”

  “I will be.”

  Shontelle took a sip of her drink before speaking again. “So, what’s this I hear about you and Grayson?”

  I stopped with my wineglass halfway to my lips. “Um, there is no me and Grayson.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Really? Because you were seen walking around together last night. Word is you went on a date to the pool hall. To be honest, I would have expected the two of you to pick a classier joint, but I suppose billiards and romance aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive.”

  “Whoa, hold on,” I said. “We were not on a date.”

  Her eyebrow quirked upward again.

  “Not. On. A. Date.” I repeated, emphasizing each word. “I asked for directions to the pool hall so I could ask the owner some questions, and Grayson decided to show me the way.”

  “How very chivalrous of him.”

  “Hardly,” I muttered into my wine, still annoyed with him after our conversation that morning.

  “So you’re saying there aren’t any sparks between the two of you?”

  “There are sparks, all right. Just not of the romantic variety.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Shontelle eyed me over the rim of her wineglass as she took a sip.

  “I did find out that Carl Miller doesn’t have an alibi for Tuesday night like he claimed.” I hoped that would be enough to encourage Shontelle to steer the subject away from Grayson.

  From the way her eyebrow arched yet again, I knew she saw through my attempt to switch topics, but to my relief she didn’t pursue the matter further.

  “Carl isn’t exactly a rocket scientist,” she said. “If he is the murderer, he won’t get away with it for long. He probably would have panicked once the deed was done. If the murder weapon wasn’t found at the scene—”

  “Which it wasn’t. Otherwise, the police wouldn’t be looking for it,” I interjected.

  “Exactly. And the police didn’t find any swords when they searched his place.”

  “What? When did they do that?”

  “This afternoon.”

  “And I’m not hearing about it until now?”

  “You spent too much time cooped up in that tent today.”

  “I must have.”

  “Of course, being cooped up in the tent wouldn’t be so bad if a certain handsome brewer were there with you.”

  “One of his employees looks after the brewery’s table,” I said.

  I wasn’t about to mention the fact that Grayson had car
ried my coolers for me that morning. No doubt she’d read far too much into that.

  “So,” I said, deciding to get us back on track, “maybe Carl stashed the weapon somewhere between the scene of the crime and his house.”

  “Sounds like a possibility.”

  “Do you know where he lives?”

  “Somewhere south of the green, I think, but I don’t know exactly where.”

  “I’m sure someone will be able to tell me.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Shontelle regarded me from her seat on the couch. “Are you planning to look for the weapon yourself?”

  “It couldn’t hurt.”

  “The police have probably beat you to it.”

  “Probably,” I agreed.

  Shontelle swirled the last of her wine in her glass. “Maybe you should leave it to them. Judging by the things that have happened to you lately, the killer might already be annoyed that you’re nosing around.”

  “Except my tires were slashed before I even knew Eric was dead,” I pointed out. “So if the same person is responsible for slashing my tires and leaving the gas can outside the mill, how can those things be related to the murder?”

  “I don’t know,” Shontelle admitted. “But we also don’t know that the same person was behind both of the incidents directed at you. Maybe it was a delinquent teenager who slashed your tires.”

  “Maybe,” I said, although I was having trouble believing it. “Have you heard anything around town about me?”

  She tipped her head to the side as she considered the question. “There’s that rumor about you and Grayson . . .”

  I rolled my eyes. “I meant anything along the lines of people not wanting me here.”

  “Is that what you think the pranks are about?”

  “That’s what it feels like.”

  Shontelle finished off her wine and set her glass on the coffee table. “No, I haven’t heard anything of the kind. And why would anyone not want you here? Okay, so some people here aren’t entirely welcoming of people who weren’t born and raised in Shady Creek, but most people are nice.”

  I stared into the depths of my almost-empty glass. “At first, I thought it was Grayson since he didn’t seem to like me, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “What was that all about, anyway? Between you and Grayson, I mean.”

  I filled her in on how Grayson had thought I was mixed up in the brewery chain’s plan to steal his recipes. “Plus, he wanted to buy the pub, and he thought I’d sneaked in and bought it out from under his nose as part of the nefarious plan.”

  “But that’s all sorted out now?”

  “I think so.” When Shontelle smiled, I hurried to add, “But don’t think that means there’s going to be anything between us. He’s still a jerk.”

  Shontelle shook her head. “I haven’t seen what you’ve seen, apparently. Maybe you bring out the worst in him.”

  “Hey!”

  “Just kidding,” she said. “Sort of.”

  I tried to glare at her but failed.

  After finishing the last of my wine, I pushed myself up from the armchair—not an easy task since I was getting sleepy and didn’t much want to move.

  “Thanks for the wine. I’d better get home and get some sleep.”

  “Good luck with the pumpkin pie judging tomorrow,” Shontelle said as she walked me to the door. “You might need it.”

  “I refuse to worry about that,” I told her.

  “For your sake, I hope there’s no reason to.”

  “Either way, it’ll be done with soon enough.” I pulled on my coat and gave her a quick hug. “Good night, Shon.”

  “Good night.”

  I descended the stairs and stepped out into the cold night air, shivering as I buttoned up my coat. I walked quickly, trying to keep warm, my hands deep in my coat pockets. It was a good thing I didn’t have to walk far. I hadn’t brought a hat with me, and my ears were already going numb from the chilly breeze that was lifting my hair from my shoulders.

  Most of the businesses around the green had closed hours earlier. Lumière was the only establishment with lights still blazing. The sidewalks were deserted, and the only sound I could hear was that of my own footsteps on the sidewalk. As I crossed from Hillview Road to Sycamore Street, I thought I saw a shadow move next to the building on the corner, but then everything went still.

  Just your imagination, I told myself.

  I maintained my pace, turning my thoughts to my plans for the next day. As I stepped up onto the sidewalk on Sycamore Street, I heard a scuffling sound close by.

  I didn’t have a chance to look in the direction of the noise before someone grabbed me from behind.

  Chapter 19

  I tried to scream, but a gloved hand clapped over my mouth, muffling the sound. Panic shot through me. I squirmed and tried to yell through the hand over my mouth. My assailant’s arm only tightened around me, pinning my own arm to my side. I tried to pry the hand off my mouth with my free arm, but without success. I opened my mouth and chomped down on one of the gloved fingers, stomping on my assailant’s foot at the same time.

  I heard a grunt of pain near my left ear. My attacker released me, but then shoved me hard from behind. I fell forward, my hands and knees smacking into the sidewalk. I scrambled over to the nearest streetlamp and grabbed it, using it to pull myself upright. A figure in dark clothing disappeared around the corner, moving quickly. No one else was in sight.

  My breaths coming in frightened gasps, I clung to the streetlamp. Laughter and chatting voices erupted into the night air. I whipped my head in the direction of the noise. A group of five people had exited Lumière. Unaware of my distress, they crossed the road and headed off over the green.

  As I leaned against the lamppost, I became aware of stinging scrapes on my hands and knees. My legs trembled beneath me, but I managed to let go of the streetlamp and stay upright. I wiped my shaky hands on my jeans and walked as quickly as I could along the street. I kept glancing over my shoulder, but there was no more sign of my attacker. Even so, my heart didn’t want to slow down.

  It occurred to me that I should call the police, but all I wanted right then was to not be alone. I stumbled over to the door to Aunt Gilda’s apartment and hit the buzzer. I hit it again when I received no response, but it was no use. Aunt Gilda wasn’t home.

  I was tempted to cry but refused to let myself. Instead, I headed for the restaurant and the light it was spilling out onto the sidewalk. I’d almost reached Lumière when the front door opened again. This time someone familiar stepped out onto the sidewalk, a paper takeout bag in one hand.

  “Sadie?” Grayson’s forehead furrowed as he took in the sight of me. “Are you all right?”

  “Someone grabbed me while I was walking down the street,” I said in a rush. “I broke free, and they ran off.”

  Grayson’s whole demeanor changed. “When and where?”

  I pointed down the street. “Near the corner. Maybe a minute ago.”

  He shoved the takeout bag into my arms and took off down the street at a run. When he disappeared around the corner, I stared down at the bag he’d left with me. Warmth from the food inside seeped through the paper to my hands. That made me realize how cold I was.

  Shivering, I considered going inside the restaurant, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. My gaze went back to the street corner, waiting for Grayson to reappear, wondering what—or whom—he’d find. A minute or two later, he jogged back around the corner.

  “I couldn’t see anyone,” he said when he came to stop in front of me. He rested a hand on my shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

  I shook my head. “Just some scrapes. Whoever it was, they pushed me to the ground.”

  He relieved me of the takeout bag and set it on the sidewalk. He took my hands in his and turned them palm up so he could see the scrapes. They were only minor abrasions, barely even stinging anymore.

  “I’ll call the police.” He released my hands and reached into h
is pocket for his phone.

  Immediately, I missed the delicious warmth from his touch.

  “You’re shivering,” he said. “Why don’t we go inside?”

  I shook my head, stepping away from the restaurant. “I don’t want to make a scene.”

  Before he could argue with me, I moved to the curb, sitting there with my back against a lamppost. Now that I had company, I wanted to stay away from the crowd inside the restaurant. Getting stared at would only make me feel worse than I already did. I heard Grayson talking on his phone behind me, but his words blurred to meaningless noise. Now that my initial shock had worn off, my head was spinning. Who had grabbed me and why?

  I didn’t think it was a random attack. Too much had happened lately for that to be the case.

  Was it Eric’s killer? Had the murderer had me in his or her grasp?

  I shuddered at that thought and hugged my knees. I knew my attacker wasn’t Grayson, but he was the only person from my suspect list I could rule out. All I’d seen of my assailant was a dark blur disappearing in the distance. I wouldn’t be able to provide the police with a description.

  Taller than me? Shorter than me? Man? Woman?

  I didn’t know.

  I rested my forehead against my knees. A wave of chattering voices and clinking cutlery washed over me before the peace and quiet of the night returned.

  “Sadie? What are you doing sitting over there?”

  I jumped to my feet at the sound of Aunt Gilda’s voice. She’d just stepped out of the restaurant, Louie behind her.

  Grayson ended his call and addressed me. “The police will be here soon.”

  “The police? Sadie, what’s going on?” A note of alarm had entered Aunt Gilda’s voice.

  I hurried to explain. “Someone grabbed me from behind when I was walking home from Shontelle’s. They ran away, and I’m okay. Grayson called the police for me.”

  Aunt Gilda pulled me into a fierce hug. “What in God’s name is going on these days? You’re sure you’re all right?”

  I nodded against her shoulder. “I’m fine. It shook me up a bit, that’s all.”

  She held me at arm’s length, looking me over before finally deciding for herself that I was okay. “Thank heavens you weren’t hurt.”