Frowning, he looked up at me. “Is this what I think it is?”
I reached to yank the papers away from him, but he held them out of my reach. “You’re setting a trap for the killer, aren’t you?” he asked.
My own frown was just as fierce as his. “None of your business.”
“I beg to disagree,” he said. “It’s because of me that you got involved in this business at all. And this?” He waved the papers. “This is far beyond the pale of what you should be doing.”
“It’s a little late for that,” I said, and then I realized I hadn’t told Cade about the note in the candy jar. After I did, he immediately started going all fatherlike on me, saying that he was forbidding me to put myself in any more danger. I ignored him and he eventually got tired of talking. “So,” I said, “all we need to do is identify the killer,” I said. “If he shows up, I’ll take a picture, show it to the police, and let them take it from there.”
But Cade was shaking his head. “It’s too dangerous. This man has killed once; what will stop him from doing it again?”
I wanted to stamp my foot. Didn’t, but wanted to. Badly. “I’ll be hiding. He won’t even know I’m there.”
“It’s still…” A curious expression crossed Cade’s face. “You know, if it’s a trap you’re setting, what you need is some good bait, and better bait would be best.” Cade’s eyebrows rose. “Yes?”
Now he was doing B words. “Not playing,” I said. “And what are you talking about?”
“What if,” he asked quietly, “your bait included the person the killer had tried to frame for murder?”
Chapter 18
At sunset the next evening, Cade settled into one of my chaise longues. I took my cell and the binoculars I’d borrowed from Rafe and found a comfortable spot under a corner of a large, leafy shrub next to the marina office.
The night before, we’d put a Facebook post on Cade’s page, saying that he was going to be doing some recuperating alone on a friend’s houseboat. We knew that the killer had probably looked at Cade’s Facebook page before, so we were hoping he’d do it again. And since the killer knew I drove the bookmobile, it was likely that he also knew where I lived.
This creeped me out in a big way, but I tried not to let it show as we sketched out the right words to use. Finally we clicked POST and off it went.
Now I sat cross-legged on a swim towel and checked the batteries on my phone. Powered up and ready for a night of surveillance. “We’re on,” I whispered, and made myself as comfortable as possible while sitting on the ground half under a shrubbery.
Comfortable was good. It might be a long night.
• • •
“A pointless night,” I told Eddie when I returned at half past four. Tried to tell him, anyway, since I was doing as much yawning as talking. “Who would ever have expected the Olsons to show up on a Tuesday and have a party?”
It had turned out that Tuesday had been Mrs. Olson’s birthday and Gunnar had surprised her with a quick trip north via chartered aircraft large enough to hold their closest friends, of which I now knew there were many.
Cade and I had stayed in place until long past the hour when all the partying people had gone to bed, but our quarry hadn’t shown. “The only danger involved was the danger of falling asleep,” I murmured sleepily.
My furry friend flicked his tail at me and jumped down. I followed him, still yawning, as he stalked through the kitchen, down the steps, past the bathroom, and into the bedroom, where he jumped up on the spare bed and started rubbing his chin against the bulletin board. I’d installed the magnetic bulletin board a few weeks ago when I discovered that my former cat-free existence had given me habits that did not suit a life with cats. Specifically, how I kept track of my household paperwork.
In the old days, I’d put all my receipts in a tidy pile in the middle of the spare bed until I got around to checking my credit card and bank statements. Now I stuck the small slips of paper to the board and hoped they didn’t attract Eddie’s attention.
“Not a cat toy,” I said, pushing at his hind end and twisting him away from the latest object of his affection. “There’s nothing about a magnetic board that should interest you.” I started pulling my sweatshirt over my head. “I mean, can’t some things be off-limits? For example, I don’t eat your cat food, so why do you—”
A small thunk set me on pause. So much for asking nicely. I yanked off the sweatshirt and inspected the Eddie damage.
“Not so bad,” I said, pulling the small calendar out from underneath the furry black-and-white body and putting it back where it belonged. “Pulling down the receipts would have made a much bigger mess. Better luck next time.” I leaned down to kiss the top of his head.
“Mrr,” he said.
“I know just what you mean,” I said, and gave him another kiss.
• • •
For the first time ever, I was glad the next day wasn’t a bookmobile day. With my level of fatigue, it was extremely possible that I could have fallen asleep at the wheel, and that wasn’t a possibility I wanted to dwell upon at all.
I made it through the morning by pouring copious amounts of coffee down my throat and decided the best way to stay awake through the early part of the afternoon was to take an informal inventory of the reading room. Check on the wear of the magazines, straighten the newspapers, all things to keep me on my feet and conscious.
As I put the copies of Time magazine into chronological order, Mitchell’s booming voice bounded across the room. “Minnie! Hey, Minnie! Guess what?”
He was grinning and more full of life and energy than I’d ever seen. I’d been ready to tell him my guess was that he’d decided to enter the world beard and mustache championship, but he looked so happy that I didn’t have the heart. “Hey, Mitchell. What’s up?”
“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “About what you and Holly and Josh have been saying, and I think maybe you’re right. I should get out more. It’s good to try new things, right? Keeps the old noggin going, yeah?”
He tapped the side of his head. It made a hollow sound, but that could have been my imagination. “So you know what I’m going to do?” he asked. “I’m going to open my own business. It’s going to be great, and I’m sure I’m going to be real busy real soon. I probably won’t be hanging around here as much anymore, but I’ll stop in every once in a while so you remember my name.” He laughed, flashed a dazzling smile, and bounced out.
I stared after him. Mitchell was starting a business? What could it possibly be?
“Well, well, well.” Stephen stood in the reading room’s doorway, his arms folded on his chest. “Looks like you’ve finally taken care of The Situation. Excellent work, Minnie. Nicely done.” He gave me a nod and strode off.
Excellent work? I hadn’t done a thing. And nicely done? I wasn’t so sure.
At all.
• • •
All that afternoon and through the evening I mentally tossed everything I knew about Carissa into a big pot and tried melting it together.
As I should have known, all that did was make a big muddled soupy mess that gave me no answer in particular and only made my stomach start to hurt. I didn’t feel any closer to keeping Cade out of jail now than I’d been the day I vowed to help him.
The next day was a bookmobile day. Being out and about, bringing books and good cheer to the countryside, should have made me feel better, but the black cloud of fear hung on my horizon all day. On the plus side, Thessie had returned, and her chatter about her college visits kept my darkest doubts out of view.