Till Death Do Us Tart Page 17

  “Look, I get that Ashland is a small town. I’m learning that about the police force.” She and Thomas shared a look. He nodded.

  Kerry continued. “We work in conjunction with one another. In fact, we sent a team of our guys to Talent last night to help with a domestic situation. We all play nice, but this is out of hand. You’re on the scene of a homicide in Medford. This is not our jurisdiction. Our friends in Medford aren’t going to share details of the case if we have civilians disturbing the crime scene.” Detective Kerry swept her auburn hair into a bun, and gave us a hard stare. Then she walked over to the lead Medford detective.

  “She’s right. You know? You guys are going to end up in trouble if you keep pulling stunts like this,” Thomas said once Detective Kerry was far enough away.

  “Stunts?” Lance sounded injured. “Thomas, how can you say such a thing? Juliet and I were concerned about Megan. We went to the hospital to deliver her a delectable box of Jules’s pastry earlier and learned that she had vanished.”

  I almost interjected that she hadn’t exactly vanished. The receptionist had told us that she had been discharged.

  Lance was undeterred. “We knew immediately that something must have been wrong. This must have some connection to my father’s murder. You can’t blame us. We’re trying to help, and I’m not exactly of sound mind and body at the moment.”

  Thomas tapped the badge pinned to his chest. “And you didn’t consider calling me beforehand?”

  “There was simply no time. We were already en route.” He nodded to me to back him up.

  I tried to smile, but I felt terrible. Thomas and Detective Kerry were right. Lance had swept me into his drama once again. I didn’t want to do anything that might jeopardize the police investigation.

  “In any event,” Lance continued with a flick of his wrist. “When we arrived here at Megan’s we found her in this horrific state.” He paused and shielded his eyes. In any other circumstance, I would have figured that he was being intentionally dramatic, but I knew that finding Megan had shaken him too, despite his outward appearance. “We called the police immediately and have stood guard ever since.”

  Except for when we rifled through her files, I thought to myself.

  Thomas noted something on his iPad. “Look, you guys should head back to Ashland. Thanks for calling me, but you need to get out of here. I’ll try to fill you in later if I can.” With that he turned and headed inside Megan’s office.

  Lance and I returned to his car. “You know what this means, don’t you?” he asked as he steered toward Ashland.

  “No. What?”

  “Whoever spiked Megan’s drink last night must have intended the poison for her. When they failed they returned to finish the job. Which means we don’t have to lose any sleep over worrying that a killer is after you, darling.”

  He had a good point. A sense of relief flooded my body, followed closely by a wave of guilt. I felt terrible for Megan.

  “And, we now have potential evidence in your phone. Open up the pictures you took and let’s see what Megan found out about that villainous brother of mine.”

  I tugged my phone from my pocket and began scrolling through the photos. I had to zoom in to read Megan’s notes. Every page had been typed with official dates and times. She had been a meticulous note keeper. I wondered if that came with the job. She was probably used to recording every detail when providing surveillance for her clients. Reading through her notes made me feel even worse. She didn’t deserve to die.

  “Well, darling, don’t be stingy. What does it say?”

  “I’m looking,” I said. “Megan was tailing Leo and Jarvis.” She had broken down her notes into four sections: subjective, objective, assessment, and plan. In the margin on a few of the pages she had jotted down things to follow up with. Most of the pages were straightforward. It looked as if she had pulled financial records of the Brown Family Group, interviewed employees, and spent over ten hours following Leo. There were notes about his movements each day and photos of him interacting with a variety of people I didn’t recognize. When I got to the last page, there was a small note in the margin that read: “Assessment—Jarvis. Disbarred in Nevada. Pull state records.”

  I must have gasped because Lance veered off the highway. The warning strips rumbled under our tires.

  “Sorry,” Lance said, twisting the wheel to steer us back into the center of the lane. “But you can’t gasp while I’m driving sixty miles an hour.”

  “Did I gasp?”

  “Yes,” Lance snapped. “Stop stalling. What did you read that made you suck in air like that?”

  “It could be nothing,” I replied, flipping back to the page. “Megan made a note that Jarvis had been disbarred in Nevada. It looks like she was planning to pull the records.”

  “Or maybe she already did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, darling, what if she dug into his shady past, discovered that he’d been disbarred, and he found out? That would be motive for murder. I told you there was a connection with my father’s death.”

  “Yeah, but he wasn’t anywhere near Megan when she drank the wine last night. Leo dragged him away, remember?”

  “How do we know that? There were over three hundred people milling around. It’s completely possible that Jarvis—or anyone for that matter—could have snuck close by us, spiked Megan’s wine, and then slunk away without anyone being the wiser.”

  He had a point. It wasn’t as if we had had tight security at the reception. That was the opposite of Mom and the Professor’s goal of having an open and welcoming party where everyone in town had been invited.

  “Think about it. Jarvis could be our killer.” Lance’s voice became more animated as he began to string a theory together. “I asked Megan to look into my family’s holdings. She learned that things aren’t on the up and up with Jarvis. Maybe she had tangible proof that he killed my father. He figured that out and realized that he had to get his hands on Megan’s evidence. Maybe he’s not even certified to practice law here in Oregon. That would ruin him, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Let’s say he snuck over to where we were chatting and slipped the poison into Megan’s drink. Maybe he waited around for a while. He probably saw the paramedics arrive and realized that he hadn’t administered a lethal dose so he went to the hospital to finish the job. When he arrived at the hospital, Megan’s room was surrounded by cops. He knew it wasn’t worth the risk so he took off and waited for her at her office. When she was released he delivered the final blow.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, Lance’s theory was plausible.

  “You had better get on the phone with Thomas,” Lance urged. “Jarvis could be making his getaway as we speak.”

  “But Lance, we don’t have any evidence, or anything connecting Jarvis to either crime.”

  Lance kept one hand on the steering wheel. The other made a tsking motion in the air. “Details, darling. Details. That’s what the police are for.”

  “Exactly.” I stared out the window as Lance took the turn to Ashland. Then I texted Thomas the pictures I had taken of Megan’s files. I knew he wouldn’t be happy with us snooping. Odds were good that Thomas and Detective Kerry would find the file anyway, but I didn’t want to withhold anything from him.

  In the distance, sunlight brushed the forested hillside of Grizzly Peak. Sturdy evergreens stretched out as far as my eye could see. As always, I was struck by Ashland’s beauty, while at the same time distraught over Megan’s death. We didn’t know enough yet to conclude whether Jarvis’s being disbarred had any connection to the case. However, what I did know was that we had a new suspect in the case—a murder case.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lance dropped me at Torte. I wondered if Carlos and Ramiro were up and stirring yet. Sunday morning had brought slow risers out to Torte’s plaza. The first signs of life emerged in the form of couples strolling hand in hand drinking iced coffees on their way to br
unch.

  I wasn’t sure what to do next. Should I dive back into organization or was there anything else I could do with the case? I was about to make my way downstairs when I noticed two men talking near the entrance to the Calle Guanajuato, a cobblestone path that paralleled Ashland Creek. Every weekend from April through November the creekside path hosts the Lithia Artisans Market. Photographers, jewelry makers, and potters were setting up open-air tents to display their wares. The market is a popular spot for tourists to purchase one-of-a-kind keepsakes.

  Was it my imagination, or was that Jarvis and Adam? What could the two of them be doing together? Yet another coincidence. The story of my life as of late.

  The two men walked with purpose past the vendor tents and crossed a footbridge. Then they disappeared into a wooded area on the opposite side of the creek.

  Without thinking, I raced after them. When I made it to the footbridge, I spotted them arguing next to a metal sculpture. If they turned around they would see me right away. I was too exposed out in the open, so I ducked behind an empty vendor tent. From my vantage point I couldn’t make out either of their faces. One man was dressed in black leather. He looked to be about the same build as Adam. The other wore a suit and held a briefcase. I had to get closer.

  I stayed low and made my way toward the far end of the pathway where the creek flowed beneath the footbridge. The problem was going to be how to get within earshot without either of them noticing me. I decided my best bet was to approach them from the opposite side of the creek. I crouched as I crossed the sidewalk over the bridge onto the other side. Then I darted between giant sequoia trees until I was directly across from them. The trail was densely packed with pine needles and dry leaves. I could hear a group of travelers strumming on guitars and bongos somewhere nearby. The sound of their music drifted up from Ashland Creek.

  Upon closer inspection, I saw that it was definitely Jarvis and Adam, but I couldn’t hear a word. The rushing creek below, swollen with snowmelt from the Siskiyou Mountains, provided a sound barrier. I cupped my hand over my right ear to try to amplify the sound. It didn’t work. Whatever Jarvis and Adam were discussing looked serious.

  Should I call Thomas? Would they hear me? Thomas and Detective Kerry had been looking for Adam since last night. I wondered if they’d had a chance to speak with him. He certainly wasn’t trying to blend in in his biker gear. Jarvis thrust a manila envelope into Adam’s hands and walked away.

  What was going on? My heart thumped with nervous excitement. Whatever the two of them had been discussing and whatever Jarvis had just handed Adam must have a connection to Megan. She was their only commonality as far as I knew.

  Adam ripped open the envelope. He scanned the paperwork. Then he ripped the papers to shreds, stuffed them in a nearby garbage can, and stomped off in the opposite direction. Without thinking, I sprinted back to the other side of the creek. I had to get the paperwork.

  I yanked the lid off the garbage can and plugged my nose. This is what it’s come to, Jules? I thought as I removed the shredded strips of paper. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching and then shoved the lid back on top of the can and hurried to the bakeshop.

  I called Thomas before doing anything else. In the past, I’d made some mistakes trying to take on criminals on my own, and I had learned from those experiences.

  “Thomas, come to Torte as soon as you can. I think I have something that might be important to the case.” I left the message on his voicemail.

  Taking the torn papers to one of the front booths, I left them on the dusty table and went to find some tape. I locked the door on my way to the office. Again, there was no harm in being overly cautious. After all there was a killer on the loose.

  Once I found tape, I began trying to piece the papers back together. It took longer than I thought it might. Adam had ripped each page in quarters and then in two-inch strips. Once I figured out the pattern, I followed the tear lines and began to puzzle everything together.

  The result was a crumpled tape-covered mess, but I could easily read the document. What Jarvis had handed Adam was a restraining order. The order, signed by a judge in Medford, banned Adam from having any interactions with Megan. He wasn’t allowed within two hundred feet of her. I read through the rest of the terms, including the fine and potential punishment of jailtime should Adam violate the order. Sadly, Megan wouldn’t have to worry about that any longer.

  Adam must have killed her. He had been on-site last night and had the opportunity to spike her drink. The fact that she had taken out a restraining order against him would likely give the police the motive they needed to arrest him.

  I stared at the mangled paper. Poor Megan. Why had she needed to take out a restraining order against him? How had they known each other? I thought back to our first meeting right here at Torte. Megan had seemed jumpy when she’d spotted Adam hanging around the coffee bar. I felt terrible. I should have noticed. I should have taken action. She might still be here now.

  A soft knock shook me from my thoughts.

  Thomas stood outside Torte’s front windows accompanied by Detective Kerry. I went to let them in.

  “Whoa, the place looks different.” Thomas held the door open for Detective Kerry. “What’s behind the plastic?”

  “Demo.” I ran my finger along the pastry case, creating a trail in the dust. “The plastic is supposed to contain the dust.”

  To my surprise Detective Kerry gave me a sympathetic nod. “My dad worked in construction. I assure you this is really clean compared to some of the job sites I’ve seen.”

  “Thanks for the reassurance. That’s good to hear.” I directed them to the booth. “I think you guys are going to want to see what I found.”

  I intentionally handed the ripped restraining order to Detective Kerry.

  Her face was passive as she read the document. “We’re going to need you to explain how you came to be in possession of this. This could be a crucial piece of evidence for the DA’s case if it turns out Jarvis is guilty.”

  I explained how I had seen Jarvis and Adam arguing and went to see if I could get a closer listen.

  “You were eavesdropping?” Detective Kerry suggested. However, her tone was different than it had been in the past.

  “Not exactly.”

  “And then you were rifling through the garbage?” she said with the faintest smile. “One night of Dumpster diving and suddenly it’s a trend.”

  Thomas took close-up photos of the tattered restraining order with his phone. “See, this could be something we use in the police app. Jules, once we get the app up and running you could shoot me a text with a photo of this. We are trendsetters. We’re going to be the first police station in Southern Oregon with an app, and you’re a Dumpster-diving trendsetter, Kerry.”

  “Let’s hope not.” She folded her arms across her thin torso. “Back to what you witnessed.”

  “Right.” I nodded. “I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could tell from their body language that neither of them was happy with the other. Then Jarvis handed Adam the manila envelope and he ripped it up. I’m sure I should have called you first and waited, but what if someone walked by with a full cup of coffee? Everything in the garbage can would have been ruined.”

  Thomas punched a number into his cell. “I’m going to take this outside.”

  Detective Kerry nodded. “Can you take me to the spot where you found this? We are going to need to search the area.”

  “Sure, but I didn’t see Adam or Jarvis drop anything else.”

  Her lips shrunk together in a thin line when she frowned. “Thinking that you’ve recovered evidence and utilizing police procedure to actually collect said evidence are two very different things.”

  “Got it.” I led her to the cobblestone pathway and showed her where I had hidden it, as well as the garbage can where Adam had tossed the restraining order. She motioned for me to give her space and then proceeded to do exactly what I had done. The only thin
g in the garbage can had been the shredded restraining order. Ashland city maintenance crews swept the streets every morning, long before the tourist crowd began to think about rising. By the time visitors to our fair city were up and taking leisurely strolls through the plaza, the hanging baskets along Main Street had been watered, litter had been picked up, and the sidewalks washed down.

  Detective Kerry waved to Thomas who had ended his call. “We’re going to need a team to sweep this entire area,” she said, pointing from one end of the cobblestone path to the other.

  “Is that necessary?” Thomas asked.

  “Absolutely.” She didn’t waffle in her response. “Send a team. You and I need to track down Adam immediately.”

  Thomas started to say something more, but Detective Kerry cut him off. “Which way did he go?” she asked me.

  “That way.” I pointed toward the bridge.

  “Let’s go.” She was already halfway to the bridge.

  “Thanks, Jules.” Thomas shot me a smile. “Good work. You’re becoming a real detective. That was quick thinking.”

  I felt my cheeks warm at the compliment. “Thanks.”

  “Hurry up!” Detective Kerry called. How she managed to run in three-inch heels and a pencil skirt was a mystery to me.

  Thomas winked. “Duty calls.” He hiked up his shorts and raced after her.

  They sprinted away. I wasn’t sure whether relief or guilt would win out. I felt relieved that we knew who had killed Megan, and equally responsible. Why hadn’t I paid more attention? She had clearly been afraid for her life, so much so that she had gone to court for help and protection. I should have done more. I should have reached out to her. I could have done something. Isn’t that what community is supposed to do? Rally around to support one another during times of crisis. Megan had been without a community and now she was dead.

  I sighed and returned to Torte. Megan’s death was a glaring reminder of how important our personal connections are. All the more reason to ensure that Torte would always be a safe and welcoming space for anyone who stepped inside our front doors.