“Tam Gillis is innocent.”
The line died and Bess set the phone on the counter. The thread holding her together stretched a little more. She’d never asked for this. There was a steady weight pressing down on her chest, she felt off-balance, like she might fall over at any moment. Her breath was shallow. The bed was calling her name. Rather than lie back down and miss work, Bess showered and went in early.
The Rabbit Hole didn’t open until nine, and in the thin quiet hours of the morning it was easier to accomplish paperwork. Spreadsheets were less daunting. Her mind didn’t have time to worry about murderers and mysterious phone calls.
At five till nine she made her way through the darkened store to unlock the doors. She could see someone outside, waiting for them to open. She considered hiding in the back. When people were too eager for them to open, she resented it. Which probably wasn’t the best business tactic, but it was a fact. More realistically, she decided to wait the five minutes until Wayne arrived for his shift. Wayne was never late, but he was never early either. He would come in through the back door at nine on the dot, ready to work, smile already in place.
Bess ducked back into a row of science fiction and pretended to straighten the books, her back resolutely to the entrance.
Like clockwork she heard Wayne’s voice call out to the room, “Hey boss! You in here? It’s going to be another beautiful day!”
“I’m here, Wayne!” she called back, waving a hand to signal her location. “We’ve got customers already, so I decided to wait for you.”
“Always a good bet,” he replied, not really listening.
Wayne flicked on the lights as Bess swung the door open expectantly, but the person who’d been out there was gone.
“I thought you said we had people,” Wayne said.
“We did. Damn. I guess I pissed them off by not opening up earlier.”
Wayne shrugged and ducked behind the counter to get his station ready for the day. Bess brewed a pot of coffee and poured two identical paper cups.
“You still take yours black?” Bess asked, handing Wayne a cup.
“Of course. You still take yours khaki?”
“I’d say it’s more like caramel.”
“Beige.”
“Okay. It’s beige.”
“Just us this morning?”
“Yeah, but I think we can manage,” Bess replied, motioning to the empty store.
“It’ll pick up.” Wayne sipped his coffee and winced against the heat. “Say, did you catch the news this morning?”
“I did not,” Bess said, a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Please tell me it’s something good.”
“I guess that depends on who you are. But I saw that guy they arrested lawyered up. They’re saying that leaked confession was coerced.”
Bess laughed in spite of herself. “Coerced? Damned if that isn’t a million-dollar word.”
“Laugh if you want, but that’s the word they used on the news.” Wayne’s gaze met level with Bess’s but the usual fun was suddenly missing.
“Wayne, I wasn’t making fun of you. It’s just… such a lawyer word.”
“Well, I’d imagine that’s who told the man to say it,” Wayne said, indignant.
“You’re probably right. Who’s the lawyer?”
“I’ve got no idea. Supposedly some big shot guy from out of town,” Wayne said.
“The fuck would a big-time lawyer be doing representing a kid who worked in a coffee shop?” Bess was pacing back and forth with her coffee.
“Well, what I’ve heard is that this kid has some kinda high class family here in town. Somebody with deep pockets maybe.” Wayne was grinning now, the gossip getting the better of him.
“I guess that could be. Rich folks in Antioch aren’t unheard of.” Bess looked at Wayne for a long time, studying his face. “What do you think? Do you think this kid is a killer?”
“Shit. I don’t know. Lucy was going on and on at me yesterday about how the confession didn’t feel right. And now I’m hearing it’s a fake.” He shrugged. “Would I be surprised if the police locked up the wrong guy to shut everybody up about a killer on the loose? No, I would not. Not even a small little bit. On the other hand, would I be surprised that some young white guy was torturing and killing women? Well, the answer to that is also no. For now, I don’t trust nobody. My Facebook is swarming with people saying the devil possessed him.”
“I’ve seen people blaming everything from Satan to Tom Hanks. I think you’ve got it right: trust nobody. That’s a smart motto. I’m with you on that one. Also, since when did Lucy start caring about this sort of thing? She find social justice on Pinterest?”
Wayne laughed, a loud blurting sound, like it had caught him off guard. “You be nice to little Lucy. She’s a sweet girl. She’s just figuring things out, and I’m proud of her.”
“Wayne, you’re proud of everyone. That’s your thing.”
“And you’re cynical about everyone. That’s your thing. At least my thing makes people happy.” He sipped his coffee and gave her a superior little side-eye.
“You’re right again, Wayne. You’re on a roll today,” Bess said.
She carried her coffee over to the bar and leaned against it, her lower back resting snug against the cold countertop. Wayne was right about her being cynical. She slid her phone out of her pocket. flicked through her most recent calls. and tapped the redial button.
“Hi,” she said. “My name is Bess Jackson and I’d like to speak with Detective Howland. No message, just, please have him call me when he can. Thank you.”
She ended the call and slid the phone into her pocket. The ball was in his court now. If the police were interested in the notes and phone calls, then they could act. Howland told her himself she shouldn’t get involved.
It was nearly two before he called her back.
“What can I help you with today, Miss Jackson?” he asked. Bess waited a moment to see if he would add more, but he didn’t.
“I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy.” Ever polite.
“Actually, if it hadn’t been you, I wouldn’t have returned the call at all.”
“What makes me special?” She hated herself for sounding like a flirt, and for wanting to flirt.
“I was afraid that if I didn’t call you back I’d find you out in vigilante mode again.” He sounded playful, less harsh than his original greeting.
“Nothing like that, Detective.” She felt comfortable. They were friends chatting. She dove right in. “It’s just, I’ve received a sort of ominous phone call and a note shoved in my mailbox, both saying that the killer is still on the loose. I thought you might want to look into it.”
There was a long pause. Bess thought she could hear him rubbing his temples.
“Miss Jackson, why would someone contact you about any of this?” His voice was slow and deliberate, no longer playing.
“I don’t know.”
“Is it maybe because you’ve already inserted yourself into this case?”
“I never meant to. I never wanted any of that. Detective—”
“You should call me Scott. Don’t you think it’s time to dispense with these formalities?”
“I do not, Detective Howland.”
“Suit yourself.”
“I thought it was something I should report. Was I wrong?” Bess struggled to keep her voice calm, to keep the waver out. She picked up her coffee and sipped it carefully. Finding it cool enough, she gulped it.
“Yes. You were wrong. Look, we got our guy. He confessed. The department isn’t looking for any new leads on a closed case, do you understand?” His voice rose ever so slightly.
“And what if you have the wrong guy?” Bess’s heart hammered in her throat.
“Didn’t happen. Have a good day.”