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  “She’s gone.” Sergeant Hogarth frowned down at Alice, his bushy eyebrows making him look quite cross. “We only had to take down a few timings, and we already had a corroborating statement from Ms. Clarkson to say she’d arrived hard on Sally’s heels.” He checked his watch. “I’d say she left a good half hour ago at least.”

  Alice felt the day spinning right out of her control. “I didn’t see her,” she gasped, her breath coming in short pants.

  “No. There’s a back exit to the office block, and both Sally and Mrs. Dunbar went out there,” the sergeant explained. “It was more private and closer to their cars.”

  “Oh.” Alice hung her head, staring at the ground and feeling a bit queasy. “I suppose I’m doing nothing here, then, except feeling a bit foolish.”

  “Join the club.” The sergeant beamed a smile in her direction. “Considering I couldn’t even find a seven-year-old boy, I think you missing a grown woman who was probably trying to avoid detection is understandable.”

  “You did find him,” Alice pointed out.

  “My youngest PC found him. I don’t feel shown up at all!”

  Alice laughed and shrugged. “I guess I’ll be on my way, then.” She glanced over at the steps leading up to the principal’s office, then turned away. Today would be hard enough to get through without another reminder of the tragedy. “I’ll see you around.”

  “I hope not,” the sergeant said. “At least, not in my day job. I’ve seen quite enough of you there, already.”

  As she walked back to her car, Alice could hear him chuckling at his own joke.

  Chapter Seven

  While Alice sat in the car, wondering if she should go and check on Sally despite all evidence to the contrary, her phone beeped. With a lump swelling in her throat, she squinted at the screen. “Chester out of surgery. OK to visit now.”

  Alice closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her dog had survived the surgery. Even if the rest of it wasn’t good news, at least she had that.

  The trip to the vet’s surgical center passed in a blur. Alice pulled up outside without remembering a single stop sign or turn. With shaking hands, she undid her seat belt, then sat for a moment longer in the car.

  Don’t be a coward. Go in and find out the prognosis.

  No matter how stern the voice in her head, Alice still sat in place for a few minutes more. She’d never get back to this spot, not knowing. For the moment, Chester might as well have been Schrodinger’s Dog.

  A car door slammed nearby, startling Alice into movement. The double beep as she locked the vehicle sounded like the shrill siren of a tsunami warning. Even the steps of her soft-soled sneakers were too loud, the light in the sky was tweaking too bright.

  Inside the vet’s surgery, it was a thousand times worse. The barks, mews, and peeps from every corner were deafening. Still, Alice tilted her head to one side, trying to pick Chester’s distinctive yap out of the concert of noises.

  “Miss Townsend?”

  Alice jumped and turned around, clutching her hand to her chest. The small blonde receptionist stared at her with raised eyebrows. What had she asked?

  “Yes,” Alice said, trying twice before she found her voice. “That’s me.”

  “The vet is just finishing up with another patient, then he’ll be through to see you about Chester.”

  The lady smiled and gestured to a seat, and Alice sat down, trying to discern another meaning behind the simple words. Did the vet want to see her because the news was good, bad, or just standard policy?

  Alice tapped one hand against another and, when her favorite stim offered no relief, switched to her collarbone.

  It was a relief to be able to stand and move when the vet signaled for her to come out the back. Alice followed along, hearing a dozen echoes for every footfall, seeing a thousand splashes of color in each ray of light.

  “We might have called you in too early, I’m afraid,” Josh Freeman, the vet, said as he waved her into a surgical room. “He hasn’t come around from the anesthetic yet.”

  Chester lay on a table, covered with a blue surgical gown that would have struck Alice as amusing under any other circumstances. A tube was taped around her dog’s mouth, and she winced at the thought of how it would tug at his graying hairs when the vet pulled it free.

  “Can I touch him?”

  “Of course.” Josh moved aside from her, giving Alice the space to walk over to her dog and pull him into a hug. He was a dead weight, heavier than when he sat on the front porch and refused to budge. His breathing was slow, accompanied by a huff from the machine.

  “Usually, we’d expect him to have roused by now.” Josh moved over into Alice’s line of sight. “At this stage, it’s nothing to worry about, but if he doesn’t come back to consciousness soon, then he might be in trouble.”

  “What do you mean, soon?”

  “In the next few hours.” Josh pulled a chair close to the table, then stood up when another vet entered the room, pushing an unconscious standard poodle, its eyes clouded with sleep.

  “We can’t stay in here,” the vet continued. “Come through to my office, and we can talk more there.”

  Alice gave Chester another hug, pulling him as close to her as his wound and machinery allowed. Then she followed Josh, her head turned to keep Chester in her sights until the door closed.

  “We’ll keep a close eye on him for the next few hours,” Josh said with a sigh. “I’m sorry, but we hadn’t realized at the time we called you. Otherwise, I would’ve given you a heads up.”

  “But when will I know for sure whether he’s better?”

  The vet sighed again, this time shaking his head in a manner that seared a line of pain straight through Alice’s tight chest. “Let’s just keep hoping he wakes up today. This still might just be an unusual overreaction to the anesthetic.”

  “Can I sit with him?”

  Josh shook his head before Alice could finish the question. “Not while he’s in recovery. That part of the surgical unit is only suitable for quick visits because we have patients in and out of there.”

  “So, I only get to visit with him if he gets better?” Alice’s hands pulled up the base of her T-shirt and began to twist it into a little ball, exposing her midriff.

  “If Chester is still under the weather when the other surgeries are finished for the day, I’ll let you know. Then, you can spend as much time with him as you need to, this evening.” Josh pursed his lips and frowned for a moment. “I can have a cot set up if you like. Then you can overnight with him.”

  Alice shuddered at the thought of waking in the surgery, on a cot, and not hearing the rhythmic sound of Chester’s breathing. Still, she nodded, the gesture so firm and abrupt her fringe fell forward over her face. “That would be great, thanks.”

  “And, if he wakes up sooner, we’ll let you know then, of course.”

  The route out of the vet’s office was a blank space. Alice blinked and suddenly stood at the car door, her fingers closed around the handle. The sunlight reflected off a puddle of oil in front of her, bright enough to make her wince.

  Birds in the nearby trees squawked with raucous voices rather than sang. The noise of car engines on the main road spiraled ever-upward, an endless crescendo of roaring. A backfire crushed her eardrums, sending a bolt of pain into Alice’s inner ear.

  She was close to meltdown. She needed to retreat, to get away from the world. There was no way she could drive home in this state, but she needed to curl up in bed and hide away from everything until the universe settled back down.

  Alice switched car doors and crawled into the backseat, her muscles stiffening in resistance against the overwhelming senses battering at her brain. When she closed the door, she wept at the effort.

  A travel rug lay across the back seat, protecting the aging leather. Now, Alice dragged it up over her tense body, each muscle locked as hard as a rock, like her entire body formed a tight fist.

  She pulled the blanket over her head
and curled into a stiff ball, hands over her ears, humming and rocking back and forth while she waited for the world to get back to normal levels again.

  Several hours later, Alice opened her eyes and stared at a small spot of sunlight. She couldn’t remember dreaming but must have dozed off at some point as the rug had moved. Now, it was so far off her shoulders a small pool of light was visible. When her eyes didn’t wince away from the sight, she pulled it farther down.

  The world had receded back, no longer crowding itself into every open orifice as though she’d issued an open invitation. The birds were singing, not croaking, and the rays of afternoon sunlight didn’t make her flinch away.

  Her internal clock told Alice she’d been in the back seat for hours, but it still took her by surprise to see it was now just past three in the afternoon.

  One glance at her phone told her nothing had changed. The vet hadn’t sent a message.

  Alice hesitated as she climbed into the front seat. Should she go inside and check?

  Then she shook her head and drove out of the parking lot instead. If she went inside now, she’d be glued to a waiting room seat for the rest of the day. Being concerned was no excuse to be unproductive.

  Although a dozen chores waited for her at home, Alice turned the car in the direction of the Bumbling Bumblebee Café. Doug might have warned her to give Sally space, but that was before she’d experienced the horror of finding a dead body this morning.

  Sure, her partner might not want to see her—the escape out the back door of the principal’s office suggested that—but Alice wouldn’t feel right until she knew Sally was okay. If her friend hit her with a rolling pin in the café, then it would be worth it just to make sure.

  But as Alice walked into the shop, a flustered Harriet ran straight up to her, ignoring the half dozen customers dotted around the room. “Thank goodness, you’re here!” the waitress cried out before grabbing hold of Alice’s upper arms.

  Alice shook her off, then jerked her head toward the kitchen. When they were both in the room, she asked, “What on earth’s the matter?”

  “I was just about to text you,” Harriet said, wringing her hands together so tightly Alice half-expected them to unscrew from her wrists. “The police just came by a few minutes ago and took Sally away.”

  Alice nodded and tried to speak in a calm voice. “She might not have told you, but Sally found a dead body this morning. I’m sure the police just want to ask her some questions about it. They tried to talk to her at the time, but she wasn’t in any fit state.”

  “No.” Harriet shook her head and backed up until her bottom touched against the counter. “You don’t understand. The police didn’t come to ask her some questions. They read out her rights and put handcuffs on before they led her away.”

  While Alice tried to put all the words together in a coherent line, so she could find an alternative explanation, Harriet interrupted, dashing her hopes for good.

  “They’ve arrested Sally for murder!”

  Chapter Eight

  While Harriet worked herself into a state, Alice tried to stay calm and think things through. She peeked out into the café, taking stock of the customers seated there.

  “It looks like two of the tables haven’t ordered,” she said, turning back to Harriet. “Would you be able to do that now, while I work out a plan for the rest of the day and tomorrow?”

  The reminder that she had a job to do snapped Harriet back into her usual friendly manner. She walked out and greeted the waiting customers, soon saying something that earned a laugh.

  One problem down.

  Alice checked the trays of food. They were running low of several honey cakes. No doubt between the hold-up this morning and Sally’s early departure, her friend hadn’t had the usual time to bake up everything as usual.

  After noting down a few items, Alice worked out how long it would take to bake them up and came to a conclusion that could work. She’d put the longer lasting pieces into the oven at home tonight and set the alarm early to get a start on the ones that must be freshly baked, tomorrow.

  That took care of the goods for sale, but Alice couldn’t cover for Sally in the café, serving. She looked through the notebook they kept in the kitchen, containing a range of contact phone numbers. The temp agency they used to cover Sally when she was sick or on holiday was highlighted on the second page. Alice made a quick call and arranged cover for the rest of the week.

  What else?

  With so much information banging about in her skull, Alice found it hard to think in a logical progression. She sat down on a stool, watching Harriet work, and forced herself to breathe in a regular pattern until her mind settled down.

  The stock of honey for sale would last out the week, Alice only ever repopulated it on the weekends. She’d need to come in each day to sort out the cash takings and balance out the EFTPOS receipts, but that was just a matter of setting a reminder on her phone.

  “What are we going to do?” Harriet wailed as the last customer walked out of the café. “Without Sally here, I don’t know I can cope.”

  “I’ve got another waitress coming in tomorrow to cover,” Alice said, happy she was in control. “It’s Bridget, she’s worked in here before so knows the ropes.”

  Harriet nodded, her face smoothing out of its twist of worry. “I remember her. What about the baking?”

  “I’ll take care of that. You go home and by tomorrow, everything will be okay. Trust me.”

  On any other day, Alice would have been insulted by the look of concern that returned to Harriet’s face, but for the moment she didn’t care.

  “Okay. If you’re sure?”

  “I’m sure. Closing up an hour early won’t kill the business, and resting now will help you recover from the shock better.”

  “What’s going to happen to Sally?”

  Having Harriet’s worried eyes staring at her caused Alice more discomfort than anything else she’d been working on. Mindful that the woman needed consoling, she forced herself to meet her gaze briefly before her eyes dropped back down to the notepad. “I’ll go down to the station right now and find that out. If I get any useful information out of them, I’ll tell you first thing tomorrow morning. Other than that, I suggest we just prepare to do without her for the week.”

  “If she goes down for murder, it’ll be a lot longer than that.”

  Harriet’s pointed comment raised a lump in Alice’s throat, but she swallowed past it and shook her head. “I’m sure it’s just a silly mix-up. If Sally’s lasted this long without killing either one of us, I’m certain she couldn’t have hurt a stranger.”

  The words were strong enough to reassure Harriet, but they did nothing for Alice’s peace of mind.

  After dropping the day’s takings into the bank and stopping off to pick up ingredients for the baking, the time had crawled past five o’clock before Alice got down to the police station. The officer on the front desk listened to her request to speak to Detective Sergeant Hogarth without any change in facial expression and waved her into a seat.

  She rechecked her messages for information on Chester, but the vet still hadn’t provided an update. Should she just drop into the surgery and prepare to stay the night? The thought of sitting beside an unresponsive dog in the darkness upset her so much she pushed the decision aside.

  “Miss Townsend, have you come in to give us a statement?”

  Alice sprang to her feet, the sergeant towering above her. “No, I came in to see why you’ve arrested my friend for murder.”

  The man hesitated, then offered up a smile. “I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation but since you’re here, anyway, how about you give us a short statement about your activities this morning? We’d also like to grab your fingerprints, to eliminate them from the crime scene.”

  “Is that why you’re holding Sally?” Alice asked, speeding after the sergeant as he walked away with long strides. “Did you find her fingerprints on something? Because I can
tell you right now, anywhere you find my prints, you’ll find hers, too.”

  “As I said—”

  “I’m not giving you anything if you won’t tell me about Sally,” Alice said, stopping short and folding her arms across her chest. “If you’ve arrested her because of some fingerprints at the scene, then I’m hardly going to volunteer mine!”

  “It’s more than fingerprints.”

  Alice stared at the man’s chin, her vision wavering for a moment before coming steady. The day kept dealing punches and sooner or later, she’d be on the floor, waiting for the count, but she had enough resilience to go another round yet.

  Not wanting to belabor the point, but feeling it was the only tack she had surety of, Alice tried again. “If you found Sally’s fingerprints on the honey jar that killed Mr. Dunbar, that’s because they’re on almost every jar that we sell. You can’t draw conclusions from that.”

  “We’re not drawing conclusions from the prints,” the sergeant said, turning to head towards his office again. Alice had to hurry to keep up with him once more. “There are a variety of other factors in consideration as well.”

  “What? Because she found him?” Alice paused to gain her breath, then sank down into a chair inside the sergeant’s office with a sigh of relief. “That’s just pure bad luck. She went down to the school to pick up our tray, so if I’d gone, I’d be in exactly the same boat.”

  “As I said, that’s not—”

  “When did you take her fingerprints, anyway?” Alice interrupted him to ask. “You didn’t take them this morning. Her hands were clean.”

  That raised another smile on Hogarth’s face. “We don’t use black ink any longer, if that’s your point. Just oil that can be rubbed off with a tissue. But in Sally’s case, we didn’t need to take her prints because they’re already on file.”

  Alice’s eyes widened. The only reason the police ever kept prints on file was when a criminal was convicted. Otherwise, any fingerprints—or DNA if it came to that—would be destroyed at the conclusion of a case.