A Branch Too Far (The Leafy Hollow Mysteries Book 3) Read online

  I waited until Sue selected a donut before broaching the reason for my visit.

  “When I was here last time, we talked about Lucy.”

  She chewed and swallowed. “So?”

  “Well, I have a question. At the book club meeting, you mentioned she had a hobby. What was it?”

  Sue took a sip of her cappuccino and wiped maple icing from her mouth with a napkin before replying. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

  “You did, though, and I’m curious. Was she a pole dancer or something? Is that why you don’t want to tell me?”

  An unfortunate visual sprang to mind of Lucy in a bikini, plucking bills from her G-string and swabbing them with antiseptic wipes. I chuckled, then stilled my expression. After all, I was talking about a dead woman.

  “It was nothing like that.” Sue leaned in with a scowl. “Lucy wasn’t the paragon you obviously thought. You and Thérèse both.” She gave a snort of derision. “For a smart woman, Thérèse Dionne was easy to fool.”

  The coffee threatened to curdle in my stomach. “What do you mean? Fooled how?”

  “Lucy had enemies.”

  My muscles tightened. “Were you one of them?”

  “Me?” She chortled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Then who—”

  Sue slumped back in her chair and tilted her exasperated gaze at the ceiling. “All right.” She straightened up. “I don’t know what she was doing. But I was in her office several times to discuss… club business, and there was a lot of instant messaging going on. Her computer was beeping non-stop.”

  “Did she ignore it while you were talking?”

  “No, that’s the thing. At every single beep, Lucy would say something dumb like, let’s put a pin in that, and whirl around to type a reply. And it wasn’t just the computer. Her darn cell phone was going off all the time, too.”

  “Who was she messaging?”

  “No idea. But I caught sight of a few, and they weren’t about bookkeeping.” Sue dropped her donut and leaned toward the window with an indrawn breath, her gaze fixed on the forest. “Oh… that’s interesting,” she whispered. She dragged her chair back up to the telescope and fitted her eye to the scope. “Check Lucy’s computer. It’s probably all there.”

  “But how would I—”

  “Shhhh.” Sue flapped a hand at me. She adjusted the focusing knob, then turned to face me. “You can let yourself out, right?”

  “Sure,” I muttered. “No problem. I climb ladders all day. All day.”

  Back on the ground, I slogged along the trail until I reached the lawn behind Sue’s house. My boots sank into the uncut grass, reminding me I still had a full day’s work ahead. I walked to the road while sliding out my phone to text Emy.

  Do U have Lucy’s house key?

  I waited a few seconds for the beep of a reply. In the distance, a bird sang. I cocked my head, trying to zero in. Was that a Fringilla montifringilla? Or maybe a— My phone beeped and I looked down.

  Mom does. At home.

  Can U get it?

  This afternoon.

  Do it. Talk to U later.

  I shut off my phone and tromped down the hill.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lorne and I raced through our jobs the next morning so our afternoon would be clear. By the time I dropped him off outside the 5X Bakery, my muscles were aching and my stomach rumbling. Emy’s vegan takeout shared a shopfront with her bakery, and I could have picked up a sandwich. But I needed something more substantial than braised vegetables to prepare me for the task ahead.

  As I cruised along Main Street, my gaze rested on the grinning, three-foot-high purple bird that marked the Tipsy Jay. Sue often complained that the sign did not resemble any known avian species, but she missed the point. It exactly captured the personality of the Jay’s owner and main chef, Katia Oldani, who was famous for her comfort food. Her macaroni and cheese, beefy shepherd’s pie, and scalloped potatoes were legendary. As for dessert—a helping of sticky toffee pudding might ease my pain.

  Grinning, I pulled up to a parking meter.

  Inside, I ignored the half-dozen tables in favor of a seat at the bar, where the service would be faster. I had no time to waste.

  “Hi, Verity,” said the plump, middle-aged woman wiping glasses behind the bar.

  “Katia,” I said. “Any mac ’n cheese left?”

  “For you, always. Need a menu?”

  “Not necessary.” I paused, mentally totaled up the calories I’d eaten in the past few days, and changed my mind. “Better make that a house salad,” I said with a grimace.

  Katia nodded. “And to follow…?”

  I paused again, considering. I’d already sacrificed my favorite mac ’n cheese. “One of your wonderful hot fudge sundaes,” I said decisively. “And don’t hold the fudge.”

  Katia grinned. “Tough day?”

  I rested my elbows on the bar to prop up my chin. “You have no idea.”

  The big-screen television over the bar was tuned to one of Katia’s soaps—The Young and the Clueless, I thought. Once the late-afternoon crowd arrived, the channel would change to a sports network. Meanwhile, I found myself getting caught up in the plot. One of the characters was having a clandestine afternoon with two other characters. Negligees were involved. Then came a knock on their motel unit’s door. The actors froze, eyes locked. And then—

  “There you go, love. House salad,” Katia said as she slid a generous helping under my nose. I inhaled the aroma of balsamic dressing with a sigh.

  “I added bacon,” Katia said. “You looked like you needed it.” She gave me a wink.

  I picked up my fork, the shenanigans on The Young and the Clueless forgotten. “Thanks.”

  “Let me know when you’re ready for that fudge sundae. I’m trying out a new version with raspberry sorbet and white chocolate.”

  “Ooh,” I said with my fork paused halfway to my mouth, momentarily distracted. “That sounds fabulous.”

  The door opened, and a couple walked in to sit at a table. Katia stepped out from behind the bar to deliver their menus.

  While she talked to the newcomers, I dug into my salad. Even though it was delicious, I couldn’t shake my uneasiness over the week’s events. I toyed with my greens, pushing radicchio leaves from side to side.

  In the two months I’d been in Leafy Hollow, my life had changed completely. I’d gone from being a shut-in unable to leave her apartment to a small business owner and member of a community. I’d made new friends. My anxiety attacks had receded. I still got anxious, and I would never be entirely comfortable in a crowd, but now it was manageable.

  Yet, something was missing.

  Back in Vancouver, while struggling to come to grips with Matthew’s death, I read travel books and planned adventures. I could drift up the Amazon on a raft. Act in a Bollywood movie. Scale tall buildings with grappling hooks. I could do anything, I told myself. Go anywhere. But in truth, I couldn’t even buy groceries. A heavy chain tethered my heart to that apartment.

  Maybe I’d still be there if Leafy Hollow hadn’t intervened. One phone call had been enough to send me on a crazy cross-country mission to save my missing aunt. And here I was, two months later, with nothing to show for it other than a few cryptic messages, an annoying hologram, and overwhelming guilt.

  Worse, I was still alone. With Matthew’s photo and an old shirt to remind me what I had lost.

  In Vancouver, Patty advised me to move on. Here in Leafy Hollow, Emy said the same. And they were right. But how could I? Whenever I tried to take the first step, even just flirt a little, my heart pounded and my stomach churned.

  I thought I’d made progress—with Jeff. Then I saw him escorting that blonde out of Kirby’s and my anxiety came roaring back. Ryker insisted Leafy Hollow’s crime fighter wasn’t involved with anyone, which seemed to be confirmed when Jeff showed up at Anonymous’s opening with his mother.

  And how sweet was that? A hard-nosed cop out on a date with hi
s mom? The memory brought a smile to my face. But it was too late to rekindle our first flashes of attraction. Pushing my now-empty plate aside, with a twinge of regret I remembered pushing Jeff away in much the same way.

  I slumped on the bar with my chin resting on my hands.

  “No good?” Katia asked, whisking away my plate.

  “Terrific, as always,” I said without moving. “Thanks.”

  “You wait there,” she said. “Chocolate always cheers me up.”

  I lowered my hands and smiled at her. “Me, too.”

  Twiddling nervously with my dessert fork, I looked up as the front door opened and stayed open. Sunlight streaming through the doorway framed Jeff’s straight black hair, razor-sharp cheekbones, and dark eyes.

  My breath caught in my throat as he looked at me.

  He smiled, closed the door, and came over to the bar.

  “Hello,” he said. “Haven’t seen you for a while.” He sat on the stool beside me and slid a menu out from behind the condiments holder.

  Despite three empty stools at the bar, he had picked the one right next to me. Possibly he wanted to leave two seats at the end, in case a couple came in and wanted to sit together. Or perhaps—more likely—he hadn’t given his seat location a thought. On the other hand—

  I mentally slapped myself. Verity, get a grip.

  Jeff flipped the menu closed and slid it back behind the ketchup bottle with a wry grin. “Don’t know why I bother—I always order the same thing.” He looked up as our hostess walked over. “The usual, thanks, Katia.”

  “Just once you could try something new,” she said, smiling.

  “Creature of habit,” he replied with a shake of his head. Katia retreated to the kitchen.

  “It hasn’t been that long,” I said.

  Jeff gave me a puzzled look.

  “Since you’ve seen me, I mean. I was at the reading of Lucy’s will.”

  “Which reminds me…” His brow furrowed. “Why were you there?”

  “Oh.” I flicked my hand with a hoped-for air of nonchalance. “Friend of the family.”

  His brow remained wrinkled. “Which family? Lucy’s?”

  “No,” I said hastily. “Emy’s family. Her mother, to be exact. Thérèse.” Since he still looked unconvinced, I rattled on, unable to stop myself. “That room was definitely crowded, when you come to think of it. Most of those people had nothing to do with the will, did they? I wasn’t the only onlooker. Any more and they would have had to send out for folding chairs. And Harriet’s head might have imploded.”

  One half of Jeff’s mouth bent upward in the kind of smile one bestowed on a puppy. Or a precocious toddler.

  I took that as my cue to stop talking. Nice work, Verity. Now he thinks you’re a puppy. Not the effect one hoped to have on an available hunk who was so close you could smell his Old Spice. I leaned in for a covert whiff, and sighed. Nice.

  Then I frowned. Was Jeff available? Or was that wishful thinking?

  “The look on Wilf’s face was priceless, though,” I babbled. “I thought maybe he summoned you to clear the room.”

  Holy cow. I had to leave before I made a complete fool of myself. “Katia,” I called, intending to cancel my hot fudge sundae.

  Too late.

  “Yes?” she asked, returning from the kitchen with a tray. Katia placed a toasted chicken and tomato sandwich in front of Jeff, and for me…

  “Wow.” I contemplated a mound of raspberry sorbet crowned with a dome of white chocolate. “That looks incredible.”

  She smiled. “Wait.” And then she poured a pitcher of hot chocolate sauce over the whole thing. I gasped in delight, before spooning up a helping of white chocolate, hot fudge, and cool sorbet as they melted together. As the flavors blended on my tongue, I closed my eyes. I might have moaned a little.

  “Amazing,” I said, flicking my eyelids open.

  A smile spread across Jeff’s face. “You seem to be enjoying that.” He picked up the first half of his sandwich.

  “You can say that again.” I spooned up more chocolate.

  Katia smiled at us. “My work here is done.” The couple across the room waved to get her attention. “Be right there, hon,” she called.

  Jeff and I concentrated on our food, not looking at each other.

  Eventually, he pushed his plate away. “I’m glad you attended that reading only as a friend, Verity. Because after your last investigation, I hoped you wouldn’t do that again.”

  “Do what?” I asked, a tad defensively.

  He gave a little cluck-cluck of his lips, but he was smiling. Somehow, I found it hard to look away from his mouth. To cement my resolve, I called up a mental image of the time I’d dropped that bowling ball. Ouch.

  “I think you know,” he said.

  “That is so unfair,” I sputtered. “I’ve been in the wrong place at the wrong time once or twice”—I ignored his raised eyebrow—“but it wasn’t my fault.”

  His lips twitched. “No,” he said, nodding solemnly.

  Jeff fiddled with the menu holder again. If I didn’t know better, I would have suspected the village’s unflappable detective was… nervous? I watched his hands. Tidy cuticles and nails. Not quite a manicure—but the mark of a man who looked after himself.

  He released the menu and sat up straight, facing the menu holder. “I don’t mean to lecture you. It’s just that when I saw you in that hospital bed…” He swallowed hard before turning his soulful gaze directly on me.

  I nearly slid off my stool and into his lap—as I had contemplating doing once in the kitchen of Rose Cottage. Those flashes of attraction were roaring back. I must have blanked out for a bit, because my alluring reply was reduced to a feeble, “I’m fine now.”

  Then my foot tapped the bar, making whack-whack-whack sounds. Like a small child at the movies. First a puppy, and now an irritating theater goer. Great. I halted my foot in mid-whack.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I know you’re fine. At the hospital, you resented me barging in and, um…” His fingers tapped the table.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  Holy cow. Now he was doing it, too.

  Unable to take the tension, I started babbling again. “How’s your nurse?” I asked brightly. I scrunched my eyes shut in horror. Did I really just say that? My foot hit the bar with a thump that brought me back to my senses. I opened my eyes.

  Jeff tilted his head to one side. “What nurse?” He looked puzzled. If he was faking it, he was doing an admirable job. Of course, he was a cop. This might be one of those fabled interrogation techniques they use to beat down a suspect’s resistance.

  I scooped up a last spoonful of fudge sauce and sorbet. Maybe if I ignored him, he’d attribute my comment to the television characters screaming at each other over our heads.

  “Oh,” he said finally. “You meant…” He shook his head. “We’re not involved.”

  Interesting. I licked the sauce off my spoon and set it aside, watching him.

  “How did you know about—”

  “I saw you at Kirby’s. You looked friendly.”

  I could see his wheels turning. “Kirby’s? That was a while ago.”

  “It’s none of my business.”

  Jeff leaned in. “It could be your business.” He shrugged and straightened up, seeming almost embarrassed. “I mean, if you wanted.”

  For such a good-looking guy, his patter was pathetic. Almost as bad as mine. I looked into those dark eyes and made a mental note to ask Katia to turn up the air conditioning.

  Running a finger along the counter, I asked, “Are you talking about more bowling?”

  A smile broke through his embarrassment. “We both know that’s a lost cause.”

  “Hey.”

  “No offense. I meant we could… go out sometime. If you want.”

  I narrowed my eyes, brushing back the butterflies in my stomach. “Like on a date?”

  There. I’d said it.

  “Yeah.” His smile broadened. “Like
a date.”

  My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, and I slid it out.

  Deployed. Waiting on U.

  With a sidelong glance at Jeff, I slid the phone back into my pocket. “I have to go. Trouble on the job front.” Inwardly, I winced. We hadn’t had our first date yet, but I’d already lied to him. Then I brightened. If the team’s assault succeeded, I’d be able to tell him all about it.

  Jeff placed his diet Coke back on its coaster. “Before you go… Dinner? Friday night?”

  There were few moments in life that one could look back on and say, That was it. That was when everything changed. Still, I almost blew mine.

  “Ah…” My heart thrashed about like an overactive toddler and I found it difficult to breathe. “Ah…”

  Jeff turned away. “Sorry. I don’t know what I—”

  “Yes,” I blurted. “That would be… yes.”

  He smiled. “Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  I steadied myself with my hands on the counter. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Not… Anonymous? I don’t think I can face sea urchin again.”

  He snorted in laughter. “No.”

  “Dress code?”

  “Well… I kinda liked that outfit you had on, the black one. I mean…” he added hastily. “You should wear whatever you want.”

  I hadn’t thought he’d noticed my dress. Smiling, I said, “I’ll see what I can do.” Actually, I was relieved since it meant I wouldn’t have to go shopping again. Also, the bookkeeper in me approved of the fifty-percent reduction in the per-wear cost.

  I left a bill on the counter to cover my lunch and pranced out the door. Outside, I slipped on my sunglasses and beamed at the storefronts, grinning at total strangers while I strolled to my aunt’s truck. It might be a mistake to start up another relationship, but I was willing to take that chance.

  Then everything else would fall into place.

  After all, if I could crack the romance code, how hard could a murder probe be?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lucy’s house was in an area of the village where Victorian-era mansions lined the streets and sunlight filtered through the branches of hundred-year-old trees. Grass flowed from house to house, curving around flower beds filled with late-summer daisies and day lilies.