View to a Crime: Cape Hope Mysteries, #9

By Winnie Reed

Darcy's got an interview with a local paper. Cool, right? Well, maybe not. Why's she got reservations about doing the interview when anyone she tells about it encourages her to jump at the chance. So, Darcy jumped. Only she finds her remote interview over Zoom comes to an untimely end when her interviewer is attacked.

Luckily, Darcy manages to extricate herself from the situation unscathed because the attacker doesn't know who the witness to the crime was.

Until he does.

Now Darcy's in a race to find out who the perpetrator is before he can find her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WinReed
• Release date: Apr 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393398486

Book preview

Chapter One

C ongratulations! I understand you’re going to be an aunt!

I looked up from my laptop, open on the store’s front counter. Mrs. Merriweather was all smiles, practically beaming as she stood in front of me in one of her typically bright, eye-catching ensembles.

Yes, isn’t it exciting? I’m sure you heard the news from Mom. Knowing the old lady’s routine, she’d come over from the café where my mother had been holding court for the past couple of decades, regaling the town with her delicious baked goods and all the newest gossip.

The gossip was personal this time—not that she ever hesitated to spread her daughters’ personal business. At least it was something positive for once.

Mrs. Merriweather tapped her chin with one long, gnarled finger. To tell the truth, I heard it from Nell while dropping off a book at the library yesterday. Or was it that darling little Breanna Schultz who told me?

You’re taking yoga with Breanna? I couldn’t quite hide my grin. Mrs. Merriweather had to be in her late eighties and while she was spry and very active for a person her age, I had a hard time imagining her twisting into warrior pose.

She waved a dismissive hand, laughing. Heavens, don’t get the wrong idea. She teaches chair yoga at the senior center. It’s quite nice, stretching out these old muscles. She must have stopped at the café yesterday before continuing to the center.

That would explain it. I had a hard time believing the subject of my sister’s pregnancy would make enough of a ripple in Breanna’s life that she would feel the need to announce it unless she’d just heard about it minutes earlier.

And even then.

That was how life went in Cape Hope, though. Like having a very large extended family up in our business all the time. I wouldn’t have traded it for anything, really, no matter how many times my eyebrow arched in disbelief at how interesting the townsfolk found our lives.

I hear she and that handsome husband of hers will be out of town for a while. Mrs. Merriweather adjusted part of the netting wrapped around the crown of her sunhat, a bright yellow that went well with the silk violets tucked here and there. I used to imagine she had dozens of these hats in her house, maybe hanging from hooks on a wall. It finally occurred to me that she owned maybe a handful of straw hats which she decorated depending on her mood.

Her mood usually involved netting, flowers, berries, and tiny little birds.

I couldn’t help but hold a finger to my lips. Sure, I was taught to respect my elders and all, but still. Let’s not spread that around. I don’t know if she or Joe would like people knowing their place will be empty for a while.

Around here? She even had the nerve to pooh-pooh me, though she herself had tripped a man not two months earlier as Joe and I were chasing him down. The man in question had, along with his twin brother, done everything imaginable to steal a locket from me—including breaking and entering, assault, threatening me with a gun…

You never know. I decided to leave it at that, since arguing with a sweet old lady wasn’t high on my list of things I wanted to accomplish that morning. Mrs. Merriweather settled on purchasing a newspaper, then wiggled her fingers in a wave before heading back outside where she’d no doubt spread the news of Emma’s pregnancy far and wide.

I let out a deep breath and slumped against the counter. She’s exhausting. Sweet, but exhausting.

Becca, my assistant and general lifesaver, chuckled as she continued stocking romance paperbacks. We’d had a run on them ever since I’d helped bring together a couple who’d been separated for decades thanks to her terrible family. You were right to ask her to stop spreading news about Emma’s trip out of town. I wouldn’t want everybody to know my apartment was empty.

Hopefully anybody who knows they’re away will also know Joe’s a detective. I wouldn’t want to break into a detective’s home. I went back to my laptop, where an email I’d received overnight had my stomach in knots.

There’d hardly been a quiet moment in the weeks since locating Cassandra Dougherty—rather, since my Aunt Trixie had written all about the reunion between her and Harry, her long-lost love. They’d probably never find their child, but that wasn’t the point. Finally, Cassie had somebody to advocate for her, which didn’t seem to be the case over the years since she’d been left in a nursing facility.

It was the sort of story that captured imaginations. I knew all too well, since it had been my imagination that hooked me in the first place.

And now, thanks to press coverage, thousands of people were just as intrigued as I’d been. Including a reporter from up in Paradise City who wanted to do an interview.

Chatting with Trixie was one thing, and so was fielding the countless questions I’d received from customers, but an interview with a stranger? I was in way out of my depth. She wanted to have the piece publishing as soon as possible, which meant she wanted me to have a virtual meeting with her via Zoom the following day.

If I was interested.

Was I interested?

Yes, I was. Who wouldn’t be? But I had never given a real interview before and didn’t have the first idea what to say. At least it wouldn’t be aired on TV. The reporter—Jane Brooks, according to her email—had been clear on that. She’d write it for the newspaper and publish a version online, too. That was all.

Good thing, since I didn’t think I could live through watching myself on TV.

What’s got you so absorbed this morning? I didn’t realize Becca was beside me until she spoke, and I slammed the laptop shut when she did.

Nothing. Oh, smooth, she’ll buy that.

Becca laughed. Yeah, okay. It’s obvious you were looking at something.

It wasn’t important.

Which is why your face is bright red. I know I always blush whenever I’m looking at nothing. She snickered, glancing at the machine. Don’t tell me you’re watching adult content during work hours.

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, you caught me. I was looking at an adult video, here in the store while we’re open and you’re working.

Are you saying you would do it if the store was empty and I was out grabbing lunch?

For heaven’s sake. I opened the laptop again and nudged it her way. Here. I was trying to figure out how to answer this email without sounding too eager or too dismissive.

So no naughty business? She clicked her tongue. I’m almost disappointed. You need a little spice in your life.

Ew, Becca. I waited for her to read the email, then shrugged once she was finished. That’s it. I’ve been trying to come up with an answer.

What’s so difficult about the words ‘yes, thank you, I’d be glad to do it’? She tipped her head to the side. Unless you don’t want to.

I think I want to. I mean, look at all the business we’ve done since Trixie’s pieces published. And according to the weather outlook for the week, we’d enjoy even more foot traffic thanks to rain keeping visitors away from the beach.

I’m talking about you. Darcy Harmon. Not the owner of First Edition, not the daughter of Sylvia Harmon or the sister of Emma Harmon. You. She even jabbed my upper arm with a forefinger. What do you want?

I rubbed the spot she’d poked. I want you to not do that again. Is that a titanium finger? Jeez.

Stop changing the subject!

Okay, okay. I guess I do? It’s sort of a hassle, though. I chewed my lip.

What else do you have going on tomorrow night? She hit me with a knowing look which, truth be told, didn’t make me very happy. She knew I had nothing going on because I so rarely did. I’d agreed to a date with Pete Frazier but we still hadn’t made concrete plans, thanks to his coming down with a nasty summer cold. And now with Joe going out of town for a week, he’d probably have more work to handle around the station.

Unless my father decided to pick up the slack, which I didn’t want to be the case. The man was supposed to be semi-retired, a fact he liked to conveniently forget when it suited him.

You’re right. Still, my head fell back as I groaned. I’m a creature of habit. Even though my habits are boring, I get freaked out when somebody wants to change things up.

Which is why it took you so long to see that Pete was trying to ask you out all through Restaurant Week. She laughed softly as she went back to stocking the shelves.

I was sort of distracted, remember? Trying to figure out who wrote the letters in the bottle.

Right, right. I know you can handle more than one thing at a time, boss. I’ve seen you do it.

She was an even tougher customer than my sister, which was saying something. Emma rarely, if ever, let me get away with anything.

As if she heard me thinking about her, my sister sailed through the door not a moment later. Just popping in to say bye. Joe’s out in the car, ready to go. You’d think we were driving all the way to Timbuktu instead of Pittsburgh.

He’s excited to tell them about the baby, duh.

Emma smiled fondly. I know. It’s pretty cute, actually. Though don’t tell him I said so. He hates it.

A hard-bitten detective hates being called cute? What a shocker. I sized her up before raising my thumb in approval. "You look great. Very I’m about to spend a week with my in-laws and part of me still wonders whether or not they approve of me."

She gave me an absolutely filthy look. They approve of me. And I don’t appreciate you trying to get in my head like that. Don’t you know you’re supposed to be nice to pregnant ladies?

The woman had a point. I gave her a hug. Sorry. I’m only teasing. You know they love you. Well, her mother-in-law wasn’t the most charming woman alive, but she wasn’t entirely hateful.

Her head bobbed up and down an instant before her eyes welled up. But what if they hate that I’m having Joe’s baby? What if they don’t think I’ll be a good enough mother?

Hormones. I had never been pregnant, but I knew the havoc they could wreak. Why would they ever think that? You’ll be the best mom ever. You’re creative and imaginative and you’re a great cook and you have an enormous heart.

I was trying to make her feel better—but all I did was make things worse.

She sobbed openly, loudly. You’re the best… best sister… and I l-lo-love you so much…

Becca brought over a box of tissues, but this situation required more than that.

Here. I went to the counter and reached underneath for a pair of blueberry muffins, freshly baked by Mom that morning. Go clean yourself up in the employee restroom and you can take these with you. I figured you and Joe could use a little sustenance on the road.

That wasn’t exactly true. I had filched them for myself but was too busy with work and trying to find the perfect response to Jane’s email to actually eat them. No wonder my stomach was rumbling.

There you go again, taking care of everybody without thinking about yourself. Becca shook her head once Emma was out of earshot. To the point of taking food from your own mouth.

I’ll live without muffins. And I could always go next door to get more. I lifted a shoulder when my assistant wouldn’t stop shaking her head. Unless you want to hear my sister weep for the next twenty minutes, at which point her husband would barge in here and remind her they’re already running behind. You might be okay with that, but I’d rather avoid it.

Sure enough, the door swung open not a moment later. Emma, come on. I want to beat the evening rush.

I nodded toward the closed restroom door. She’s freshening up.

Crying?

Yeah.

It happens. A lot. But he grinned, anyway. The price you pay, I guess.

I would’ve reminded him of the much, much higher price my sister was paying, but she joined us a moment later. Darce snagged muffins for the road, isn’t she the best? Yet something told me Joe wouldn’t get more than a crumb. I had already learned the folly of keeping Emma’s favorite foods away from her when she once stabbed the back of my hand with a plastic fork.

And she wasn’t pregnant then.

She continued speaking while tucking the muffins into her purse. By the way, I already pumped Joe for info on Pete. Any dirty secrets, hidden girlfriends, past crimes. He’s clean.

I scowled at Joe, who only folded his arms. Hey, don’t blame me. She’s the one who made me look into him.

So that’s why you didn’t even have to look anything up before rattling off his pertinent information? She folded her arms the way he did his. Or do you randomly memorize the backgrounds of all your coworkers just in case one of them decides to date your sister-in-law?

Aww, Joe. I patted his shoulder. That’s so sweet.

He cleared his throat and looked gruff. Yeah, well, your father would string me up if I didn’t perform due diligence. The man was not wrong.

Be safe. Have fun. I hugged Emma one more time before ushering both of them out the door. It would be a little quiet without my sister hanging around, but she had a second family to think about, too.

You didn’t mention the interview, I noticed. Becca joined me at the window, watching the happy couple as they set off for the wilds of Pittsburgh. I know Emma would’ve wanted to hear about it.

Which is why I didn’t mention it. I waved one more time as the car pulled away. You know she’d dash next door and scream it out to anybody in earshot before leaving. I’d never hear the end of it. This is between you, me, and the reporter.

Not to mention everybody who reads the article once it’s published.

I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. And I hoped I’d never come to it. Remember, I haven’t accepted yet.

You will, though. Won’t you?

I didn’t answer, knowing she’d think I was crazy for being on the fence.

Chapter Two

Y ou’re crazy for being on the fence.

Thank you so much. You realize I didn’t have to walk over here to ask what you think about this, right? I reminded myself to keep my voice low, since even being overheard in the kitchen of Ethan Crosby’s café would be tantamount to setting Cape Hope on fire.

He was Mom’s sole competition in town, and she hadn’t exactly made a secret of how much she resented him. No matter how well she continued to do even with his shop on the other side of town, she held his presence against him.

Even the fact that he might’ve saved my life wasn’t enough to make her like him, though she at least was able to hear his name without openly gagging or growling. For Mom, that was a huge step.

What would she do if she knew