Chapter 12

After breakfast the next morning, Grace placed a phone call to Sheriff Maverick. She was surprised when the dispatch patched her through.

"This is Sheriff Maverick."

"Sheriff, this is Grace Conroy. I was wondering if there's been any progress on the Prada murder, and what the story is with the field where my maze is located."

"Ah, Grace. I was going to call you this week. I can't comment on an ongoing investigation — you must know that — but I did speak with the owner of the field. He's not crazy about having the maze on his property anymore. He's afraid."

Grace groaned. "We have a contract."

Maverick clucked her tongue. "I know, and I'm sure your lawyers can make him comply with it. But we're a small town here, Grace. A little goodwill goes a long way."

Grace heaved a sigh. "Well, I guess there won't be a maze for Halloween this year, not unless I can come up with another solution. Thanks, Sheriff. I'll make arrangements for the maze to be taken down and hauled away. Oh, by the way, am I cleared to leave town yet? I do have a business in Denver I need to tend to."

"Is it absolutely necessary that you leave?"

Grace hemmed and hawed a bit. "No. I can video chat with my board of directors if need be."

"It would be appreciated." Maverick cleared her throat. "Not that I think you or Molly had anything to do with the murder. I think you were both exactly where you say you were — asleep in your beds. But if questions should arise, it would be easier if Molly was still in town."

"What makes you think Molly would be with me?" Grace asked.

"Grace, again, this is a small town. Nothing stays secret here for long."

Except for the names of those who try to kill you and the ones who successfully murder other people, Grace thought. "Any word on who hit my truck and sent Molly and me to the hospital?"

"No. We're still working on it, though. It's going to be tough with no leads, Grace." Maverick sighed. "I need to go. I'll let you know if we learn anything."

Grace looked at her phone as if the blank screen might hold answers to her questions, then slipped it into her pocket.

"Anything new?" Molly asked.

"Nope. Nada." Grace took in a deep, calming breath. "The farmer who owns the field where I build the maze every year no longer wants the maze put there. He's afraid after the murder. I can legally hold him to the contract we signed, but doing that would make me look like an asshole to the town."

"Oh, no! What are you going to do? Is there another field you can rent?"

"I doubt it. No one will want to rent to the Murder Maze Lady."

Molly giggled. "You know, if it wasn't for the fact that there was a murder in your maze, that would be a cool name for you to use when you build your maze."

Grace grinned. "It kind of would be, wouldn't it? I may use it anyway."

"So, what do we do today, boss lady?" Molly asked.

"Stay in bed and make love all day?"

"Don't tempt me. What are we really going to do?"

Grace sighed with disappointment. "Go talk to Bridget McBain. See what she can tell us about Albert Herves. Then have lunch, maybe at Cherry's Pies? I could go for a slice of good pizza."

"And after that? And don't say come back here and go to bed."

"Come back here and make love on the floor?"

"Grace!" Molly laughed and batted her good hand against Grace's arm.

"Fine. Then we go talk to the big man himself, Albert Herves."

"If we can get in to see him."

Grace shrugged. "We will. Believe it or not, my name carries a little weight in certain circles. My firm is the second largest in Denver. I feel like Mr. Herves will either have already heard of me or will find out quickly who I am when we show up. Our cover is that I'm in town, and I heard he was a good investment broker. I have a little money — meaning a lot of money — to invest."

"Do you? Have a lot of money?" Molly asked.

"Does it matter?"

Molly smiled at her. "Not a bit. I wouldn't care if you were a pauper."

"I know, and that's what I love about you."

"Ooh, you said the ‘L' word."

"Not like that…I mean, I like you, a lot. A lot, a lot. More than I've liked someone in a long, long time, if ever." Grace felt her face heat up as she stumbled over her words.

"Oh, hush. I was just kidding. I know what you meant," Molly said with a laugh. "Come on. It's getting late, and we need to get down to the Cut ‘n Curl to get our hair cut. Or at least shampooed."

Grace thrust her hand through her shoulder-length tresses. "Actually, I could use a trim."

"Me, too."

"No, your hair is perfect." Grace pushed a strand out of Molly's eyes.

"Bull. I need a trim. My layers are getting too long. I usually get it cut in Denver when I visit my folks, but…"

"Haircuts all around, then!" Grace laughed and picked up her purse from the dining room table. "Zoe? Emily? We're leaving."

"Be careful, ladies. Especially with Albert Herves. I don't trust that man after he had dealings with Jeremy. He could be the murderer, you know." Zoe appeared in the doorway with Lily on her hip. Emily peeked from over her shoulder. "And forget about the cover story – this is a small, small town. I'm sure he already knows you've been going around asking questions."

"We'll be careful," Grace said. "We're going to talk to Bridget first, anyway. Plus we need haircuts, and then we plan to go for pizza at Cherry's."

Zoe laughed. "Well, you have a full day planned. You may not even have time to get to Herves today. Be back by six for supper, yeah? I'm making meatloaf, and my meatloaf is not to be missed."

"Gotcha. We'll stop at the winery to pick up a nice red to go with it," Grace promised. They waved and left the house.

Molly tapped Grace on the shoulder. "Want to drive?" She asked, holding up the Blazer keys. "I can't with my arm in a cast. I mean, I can , but I'd rather not. And if you want to stop at the winery later we'll need to take the SUV."

"Sounds like a plan," Grace said and took the keys from Molly.

The Blazer was much older and crankier than Grace's Silverado had been. It rattled and bucked, and made her a little nervous, but Molly was right in one respect — it got them where they needed to go, and she was glad they'd Ubered to the field to get it.

There was no street parking in front of Cut ‘n Curl, nor a parking lot, so Grace parked a block away and they walked in. A bell over the door announced their arrival in the shop.

"Good morning, ladies." A middle-aged woman, her hair cut short and stylish, smiled at them. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No. Do you do walk-ins?" Grace asked.

"Of course! Of course! We're not busy at all at the moment. Let me have your names for the system."

"Grace Conroy," Grace said, and rattled off her phone number.

Molly did the same. Grace noticed a young woman who came in behind them. The woman hurried into the back room, then emerged in an apron and carrying a broom. She began to sweep.

That must be Bridget McBain, Grace thought. She knew Molly's name even though Molly never got her hair cut at Cut ‘n Curls.

"Have a seat. We'll have chairs for you both in just a minute." The gray-haired woman exclaimed. "I'm Sondra, by the way. I'm the manager. I'm also the only stylist in at the moment, although Gloria is due at any minute. Poor Bridget was a trifle late — she had an unfortunate car accident and needed to take public transportation. Bridget? Let's start with Ms. Grace, shall we? Come on back and let's get you shampooed."

Grace smiled and followed Sondra to a back area where the sinks were set up. Bridget stood there, looking a little uncomfortable, but ready to do her job.

"Bridget, this is Grace. Shampoo and condition, and then send her to my chair," Sondra instructed.

Bridget nodded and motioned for Grace to take a seat at the first sink. "Hi, I'm Bridget. Just get comfortable." She turned on the water and began washing Grace's hair. "Is that Molly Sunshine with you?"

"Yes. Do you know her?"

"She used to date my ex."

"Wow. Small world." Grace gave her a small smile. "Your ex, huh?"

"Yeah. Jeremy Prada. He got murdered last week."

"Oh, my God! That was your boyfriend?"

"Ex-boyfriend," Bridget said in a firm voice. "I found out he was having affairs while we were dating. One of the women, Anna Bonnet Sanders, worked for his boss. The other was your friend." Bridget's voice cracked then, and Grace realized Bridget had loved Jeremy, even though he was a thieving dog.

"I'm sorry, Bridget, but my friend, Molly, hasn't seen Jeremy in a year."

"Is that what she told you? Because that's not what I heard." Bridget massaged Grace's scalp, then rinsed off the shampoo. She applied conditioner and began rubbing it through Grace's hair, a little aggressively, truth be told. "I heard she followed him out here, that he wanted to break up with her, but she couldn't accept it. That they started their affair all over again, while he was still seeing me."

"I'm sorry, Bridget, but that's just not true. Molly moved to Summit Springs a year ago, right after their break-up. We don't know why Jeremy chose to come to Summit Springs, but he never looked Molly up. She didn't even know he was in town until he was murdered."

Bridget rinsed Grace's hair. "No, it isn't true. She's the reason he broke up with me. I hate her!" She started to cry and stepped away from the sink.

Grace grabbed a towel from a stack near the sink and quickly wrapped it around her head. "It's true, Bridget. He lied to you. He lied to everyone."

"No! No! It can't be true! It's why…"

Sondra came hurrying to the sinks. "What's going on? Bridget? Are you all right?"

Bridget began to sob, her body shaking, but she shook her head. She obviously couldn't speak. She grabbed a towel and covered her face.

"Bridget just found out something she believed to be true wasn't. Could you give us a few moments, Sondra? So Bridget can collect herself?"

"Of course," Sondra said, although she narrowed her eyes and looked at Grace with suspicion. "I wasn't aware you two knew each other."

"Only through a third acquaintance." Grace offered Sondra a smile. "I'm sure Bridget will be fine in a minute or two."

"Bridget? Do you want me to leave?" Sondra asked.

Bridget nodded her head, although she continued to sob into the towel.

Once Sondra was out of hearing range, Grace got up and took Bridget into her arms, holding her while she cried. "He lied to everyone, Bridget. He used everyone. I'm so sorry."

"Y-you don't k-know how much I hated h-her because I thought it was all her f-fault!" Bridget cried.

"That's why you rammed our truck with yours, isn't it?" Grace asked, finally putting two and two together. "That was the accident Sondra was talking about when we got here."

"I-I didn't plan to do it. I saw you and her together, laughing, and all I could think of was ‘How can she laugh when Jeremy is dead?'" Britney blew her nose in the towel and tossed it into the laundry. Her eyes still streamed tears, but she seemed to be getting herself under control. "I don't even remember stepping on the gas. After it happened, I just…panicked. I was banged up, but nothing serious, so I drove my truck home and parked it in my garage. I haven't moved it since. Are you going to call Sheriff Maverick?"

"It would go much better for you if you turned yourself in. You were hurt by that asshole, Jeremy Prada, just as much as everyone else. And you got caught up in a bunch of gossip, most of which wasn't true. It's better to turn yourself in, take your licks, and then get on with your life."

Bridget nodded, then slowly removed her apron. "I'll need to tell Sondra."

"We'll go. No need for you to have to see Molly again, even though she's innocent in all of this."

"Thank you, Ms. Grace. Really. I appreciate it. I've been living with the guilt, and it's been eating me alive. I'm really sorry I hurt you and Molly."

Grace nodded, and quickly towel dried her hair. It hung in dark blond tangles around her face. "It's better this way."