Chase flipped the sign on the front door to “Closed” and went into the kitchen. Inger was in the act of closing the outside door and Chase shivered from the gust that had come into the warm kitchen. “Anna,” she said, “you’d better go home, too.”
“Let me finish getting this—”
“No, let me finish. You need to get. Come here.”
Chase motioned her to the back door. Anna put down the flour bin she’d been about to shelve. Chase shoved the door open, moving a drift about five inches high. The wind was picking up, the snow was falling faster, and the parking lot, as well as the cars, held two to four inches.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Anna said. “You’re right. This is going to amount to something.” She abandoned the cleaning-up, wrapped herself in her winter clothes, and scooted out the door.
“Call me when you get home,” Chase shouted to her departing back. Anna was a careful driver, but you never knew when someone else was going to careen into you and send your car spinning.
“I will!” Anna waved as she swiped the snow off her windshield with her gloved hand. She slipped into the driver’s seat, started the engine and the heater, and got out again. Chase watched her clear the back and side windows, then get inside again and drive away.
Chase consulted the weather on her phone. The app predicted six to eight inches. She had been right to send everyone home. She wandered into the front of the store to watch the snow fall. The lights were out inside her shop and, with the snow muffling the sounds from the street, she felt like she was in a cocoon. Quincy settled on top of the glass case, still warm from the lights beneath the glass that had been switched off a short time ago. It was rare for him to be permitted into this part of the shop and he was taking full advantage.
An elderly man passed by, wading through the deepening snow with difficulty. Chase ran to the storage closet and got out the shovel, then pulled on her coat and hat. She wrapped her scarf around her neck and patted her pockets. No gloves. Where were they? They’d been missing for a couple of days now. She dug her old gloves out of her desk drawer, but decided not to use them. They were so full of holes, they would be useless for keeping her hands warm.
When she came in from clearing the sidewalk, she felt virtuous—and cold. Her cheeks were stiff. She made a cup of steaming hot chocolate in the kitchen, as much to thaw her icy hands as to warm her insides.
Maybe everyone was being sent home early. She called Julie on the off chance that she wasn’t still at work. She wanted Julie to go with her on Monday to pay a visit to Dillon. If she wanted to go. Maybe Julie would think visiting Dillon in the hospital was a crazy idea. She didn’t answer. Probably still slaving away at her desk. Julie was too conscientious for her own good. Maybe, when she’d been at the firm longer, and when she didn’t have to worry about being a murder suspect, she would work normal hours.
Two hours later, Chase had made it upstairs and was snuggled with Quincy, watching the snow build up in the lower corners of the window panes in her balcony doors.
“This is exactly like a Christmas card, isn’t it, Quincy?”
He turned his amber eyes on her and blinked.
“You agree, don’t you?”
Traffic had slowed to an occasional vehicle passing by every five or ten minutes. Those without snow tires slid to a slow stop at the corner. All the drivers on the street seemed to have experience with winter conditions. No one slammed on brakes or fishtailed. The scene was as peaceful as a Christmas card, indeed.
Chase’s ringing phone brought her out of her reverie.
“Julie? Are you just getting out?”
Julie breathed heavily into her phone. “Yes. Finally. Jay called Gerrold and he got me out.”
Chase shot up from her chair. “What? Out of where?”
“Wait a sec. I have to help Jay scrape his windows.”
Chase heard sounds of cars and wind through the tiny speaker. Julie was outside. “Call me right back.”
When Julie called, half an hour later, she said she was at home. “I’ve never been happier to get home.”
“What happened? What’s been going on?” Chase had fretted the entire thirty minutes.
“I got a call at work as this snow was starting. Detective Olson told me to come to the station.”
“In this weather?”
“He doesn’t pay attention to weather, apparently.” Julie didn’t sound at all like herself. Her voice was tight and strangled.
“Go on.” Chase couldn’t imagine him being deterred by a simple snowstorm.
“He told me I’m being charged with homicide.” She sobbed on the last word.
Chase gasped. “Ron North?”
“Who else? I wouldn’t say anything to him. I called Jay right away. He had Gerrold Gustafson come by. He had some car trouble, but took a cab and got there in time for my bail hearing. Gerrold got my bail lowered and they released me.”
“Thank goodness! They really think you strangled him in the park?”
“No. He wasn’t killed there. They think he was killed in the high school parking lot, then dumped under the bush where you found him.”
“But why would they zero in on you? Just because it was your scarf?”
“And because I followed Bart out to the parking lot from the reunion.” There was a pause. “And because I told them I wasn’t out there at first.”
“Someone else saw you out there?”
“Only Ron North and Bart Fender. They were arguing about something when I got there.”
“So Bart can tell them you didn’t kill him!”
“Apparently not. The detective says Bart says he left while I was still out there.”
“Where does he say he went?”
“I have no idea. I didn’t notice when he left. I spoke five sentences to Bart, then Ron wouldn’t leave me alone. I was so spitting mad at him. I told them before that I hadn’t seen Ron there, either.”
Julie paused again. Was there even more evidence against her?
“And one more thing. I let slip something about the notebook.”
“How did you do that?” Chase’s heart plummeted. She knew they should have told the detective they had copies.
“I suggested he consider all the stalking victims, not just me. I told him there was a code for the book, so he thinks I’m withholding evidence. He wouldn’t believe that we figured out the code. He thinks I have more evidence somewhere. My hearing is next Friday. Gerrold managed to put it off until then by insisting on a judge who is out of town right now. That’s when I’ll plead not guilty. I’m so glad I don’t have to sit in jail until then.”
“Friday. This is Saturday. We have five whole days to find out who killed Ron North.”
Chase nearly hung up before she remembered why she had called Julie in the first place. Finding Ron North’s killer seemed more urgent, but visiting poor Dillon was a good deed she felt she should do. If she wasn’t actually in a coma, she would appreciate a report on the reunion. Julie agreed.
“Let’s go after I get off work on Monday. I’m going to have to go in Sunday to do all the stuff I was supposed to be catching up on today.”
“I’ll get some flowers and a card, since I’m not working Monday,” Chase offered.
“Deal. I’ll pick you up on my way.”
“We probably shouldn’t mention the murder unless she’s already heard about it.”
Chase couldn’t sit still after the call. Julie had actually been charged with the crime! She wished she had asked Julie whether or not she was going to call Anna. Anna had to be told. Chase waited ten minutes, checking the clock every fifteen to twenty seconds, then called Anna.
“I just got off the phone with her,” Anna said. “This can’t be happening. It really can’t. Julie did not kill that man. Why would they think that?”
Chase had no desire to go into the particulars on the phone. “Julie didn’t tell you?”
“Not really. She only said that her scarf was there but I knew that already.”
“He was strangled with it. But Ron took it from her earlier.”