Chapter 3

Doreen sat here for what seemed to be endless hours. Chances were, probably almost an hour since she'd spoken to Nick. Not sure what to expect, she kept looking at the clock and realized that, if nothing else, Nick would be here soon. Hearing a vehicle outside, she bolted to her feet and raced to the front door. Just as she went to open it, somebody pounded on the other side.

The stranger now screamed, "Open the door, you stupid woman. Let me in!"

She froze and stared. Mugs was barking like crazy at the man outside, and she didn't dare try to shush him; she didn't want anybody to know that she was even inside. The angry man again pounded and pounded at her door, until she heard her neighbor, Richard, shouting at him.

"Stop it. She's not even home."

"Go inside, old man," her angry visitor threatened, "or I'll come over there and visit you next."

At that, Richard would have gone inside, but whether he phoned the police, she didn't know. Had Richard also heard the news? Maybe he wouldn't do anything but think this was her retribution. She shook her head, trembling inside, as Mugs still barked, now jumping up against the door.

The impatient man pounded once more and yelled, "You've got something of mine, you stupid woman. I want it back, and I want it back now. I'll return to get it, don't you worry. You better have it ready for me."

At that, she heard another vehicle, and the angry man swore under his breath. She watched through the corner of the window as the man raced down the stairs and stormed over to a small vehicle parked at the bottom of her lawn. He hopped inside just as a rental vehicle pulled up into her driveway. The angry stranger watched as Nick got out, and then the unknown man tore off.

She waited until Nick came up to the front steps, and he saw her in the window. He looked from her to the direction of the other vehicle and then said, "Doreen, let me in."

She quickly unbolted the door and opened it for him, throwing herself into his arms.

He held her close and whispered, "Are you okay?"

She shook her head. "Not as okay as I would like to be," she muttered.

"Was that man bothering you?"

She snorted. "Is that the word for it? I did have the foresight to record some of it," she shared and quickly played the little bit of a video that she'd gotten from a slit in her drapes.

He stared at her phone, watching the replay, and shook his head. "The good news is," he replied, looking between her and the phone's screen, "it could go a long way toward clearing your name. On the other hand, do you have any idea who he was?"

She shook her head.

"Do you know what he was after?"

She shook her head again.

"Do you know of anything that he thinks you may have that might be his?"

She shook her head.

"Great," he muttered, running his hands through his hair. "Let me in at least."

"Sorry." She hurriedly stepped back, tripping all over the animals wrapped around her ankles. Mugs had already given Nick a happy greeting, and Goliath seemed to just want to stare at him with that unblinking-cat look.

As Nick came inside and shut the front door, Doreen sat down on the nearest living room chair and looked up at him. "I don't know what just happened to my life, but it's completely flipped."

He nodded. "I can see that. The question is whether it's a good flip or a bad one."

"I don't know," she admitted, "but, so far, it feels bad."

"Of course it does," he agreed gently. He sat down beside her, picked up her hand, and held it gently in his. "Have you talked to Mack?"

She shook her head. "No, and I keep waiting, expecting him to call."

"I suspect that he's fighting on your behalf."

"What do you mean?"

Nick took a deep breath. "I contacted him as soon as I landed at the airport, so he knows I'm here. He's fighting to stay on the case, but it doesn't seem that he'll be successful."

She straightened. "But, if Mack's not there to look after me, nobody else will."

"Now don't assume that. You've done a lot of good by the captain and everybody else in that department."

She nodded slowly. "Sure, but why won't they let Mack take the lead?" As she said it out loud, the rational thought process part of her brain—apparently shut down by the shock of the events—suddenly lit up. "Oh," she muttered, "right.… His association with me." Then her shoulders slumped.

"Yes, and you'll obviously be the number one suspect," Nick pointed out, "but you also must realize that Mack himself would be number two on that suspect list."

She stared at him in shock. "What?"

"He is the one who wants you free," Nick stated. "He's made no bones about how he felt about Mathew. Mack arrested that man how many times, for God's sake?"

"Of course, but then Mathew has been very difficult to deal with. It certainly doesn't mean that… Besides, the manner of death, that is so not the way Mack would kill Mathew."

Nick stared at her intently. "What do you mean?"

"Mack might punch him out, and, if Mathew had a glass jaw or something, that would do the deed, but Mack wouldn't deliberately kill Mathew. And it would definitely be a hands-on deal if he had done it."

"I concur—"

"And Mack certainly wouldn't leave Mathew in a flower bush for me of all people to find," she declared in disgust. "He knew I was picking up Chinese food, so absolutely no way Mack would have dumped the body there."

"Ha. Right, that makes sense," Nick agreed, with a nod and a chuckle. "I'm glad you understand Mack so well."

She gave him a wry smile. "Understanding Mack is pretty easy. His needs are simple, his wants pretty universal. He wants me free, and he wants Mathew to go away. This is one method, but it wouldn't be Mack's. He would care too much about the end result and would never compromise his own standards."

Nick smiled, almost beaming, as if she were his star pupil. "That's very true, and that's what you have to hang on to through this." He looked back at the front door. "I wonder just when your visitor will return."

She nodded. "I don't know what he's looking for or what he thinks I have. I guess I should have talked to him, but I just wasn't up to it."

"That's fine. It's probably for the best," Nick noted.

"Why?"

"I just think it's better if you sit tight and wait."

"I've got to talk to someone at some point. Otherwise I won't know anything," she complained, looking at him wide-eyed. She stared around the living room, as if seeing it for the first time in a long while. "I've just been sitting here, waiting for my world to collapse."

"Guess what? You're still here, and it hasn't collapsed at all."

She gave him a ghost of a smile. "You're right, but that collapse is still looming."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean it'll ever happen," Nick argued. "I can understand why you would feel that way, and I can see why it would be hard and painful for you to sit here and wait for everybody to get back to you with some answers as to what's going on. Yet, in the end, you must be patient."

She burst out into a maniacal laughter at that bit of advice.

He winced. "Patience isn't your strong suit."

Unable to help herself, she burst out laughing again, but this time closer to a real laugh. "No, it's not. I really don't wait well at all," she muttered, coming to an understanding. "Yet I didn't do it, and I want to go out and find out who did."

"Can you tell me why?"

Surprised at the question, she frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"I guess I'm trying to gauge how you feel about Mathew at this point."

"Sad, upset, and grieving. Yet not so much for him but for what he could have been. For what we could have had, if he had been somebody else," she shared, lost in her thoughts. "Am I mourning him?" She contemplated that. "I don't know, but he was a large part of my life for many years. For both the good and the bad. I don't think one can just get rid of emotions because he's dead."

"True."

"I think it will be a process to get there," she added. "Maybe I will wake up tomorrow and feel relief. I just wanted to get the divorce all over with for so long, and now I feel horribly guilty because of that."

"Guilt?" he asked in a questioning tone.

"Yeah, guilt because I wanted it over with. The divorce, all the nonsense. I didn't want him dead, but I wanted all the drama to stop."

"Of course," he agreed.

She stared at him. "You don't think I did it, do you?"

He laughed. "No, absolutely not. You didn't do it. I am a little concerned about how you're handling all this though. It's a lot to process."

"I can't believe that, right after Robin's death, he would die as well," she pointed out, staring at Nick, looking bewildered. "I know terrible things happen to people all the time, but I've never seen the likes of it since I moved here."

"Yet those things were happening here all the time, not only during the last few months since you moved here but before that," he pointed out. "Probably a lot of that focus on the terrible things happening has been brought about because of the cold cases you dug up."

"That's very true." She massaged the back of her neck. Then, closing her eyes, she stretched as she rotated her neck. "Thank you for not asking if I killed him."

"No, but you did ask if you needed a criminal lawyer."

"Yes, because I might get charged, and, if I do, I have no idea how to defend myself. I need a strategy in place before anything else happens."

"That's what the lawyer is for," he agreed, with a nod.

She gave him a wry smile. "Hence the question."

"Let's not go there just yet," Nick suggested. "The authorities must have some proof, some evidence, that you had something to do with it, before they can charge you. And, if they do charge you, it could be more or less to keep you at home and safe, while they continue the investigation."

"That would be a terrible decision because I'm the best person to go out there and solve this," she muttered.

"That's not exactly true," Nick offered. "You haven't been dealing with current cases or not anywhere near the volume that Mack does."

"I understand that, and, of course, it's much better if Mack stays on the case, but I can understand why the captain might want to remove him."

"More than that, it's not even so much about the captain, but this murder case involves a joint task force with Kelowna working with Vancouver because Mathew lived there."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean that the killer wasn't up here."

"The crime scene jurisdiction is here, yes, but the two departments will work together," Nick added.

"Of course they will," she muttered, then stared at him. "I really didn't kill him."

"I know that," Nick stated, "and anybody who knows you will know that as well."

"But the other people—those who don't want to know who I am or haven't had the chance—they'll believe it, not to mention all the people who hate me."

"That's not our problem right now. You can only show people who you are and go from there. For the record, they don't hate you. Well, not all of them."

She slowly nodded. With a sigh, she looked around. "I feel as if I've been frozen in this chair in this living room for hours now."

"You probably have been," he stated, with a bright smile.

"I need coffee," she announced.

"Of course you do," he replied in a dry tone, smiling.

She looked at him suspiciously, but he wiped away the smile. "What's wrong with coffee?" she asked, frowning.

"Nothing, it's always your drink of choice…"

Astonished, she asked, "Isn't it yours? Isn't it everybody's?"

"No, and, believe it or not, lots of people out there don't drink coffee at all."

She glared at him suspiciously. "I don't know if I could trust somebody who doesn't drink coffee."

With that, he couldn't contain himself and burst out laughing.

She felt a grin tug on her lips. "I know,… a bit foolish, isn't it?"

"Certainly it's foolish, but, right now, you're allowed to get away with it."

She shrugged, then bolted to her feet and snagged Goliath, who was right in her way. "These animals obviously know something's up. They've been wrapped around me since I got home."

"Of course they know," Nick concurred. "You hold on to that guy and tell me how to make your coffee."

With that, she quickly gave Nick instructions, and he headed to the pot, where he put on what she hoped would be a decent pot. She watched him, as she cuddled Goliath. Meanwhile Thaddeus was tucked up against her neck, muttering against her skin.

"Is that bird talking to you?" he asked, looking at her.

She nodded. "I wish I could understand what he was trying to say."

"I would rather imagine he's telling you that it'll be okay."

"Maybe," she conceded. "He could also be telling me to ensure I have somebody to look after him, while I'm in the slammer."

At that, Nick burst out laughing. "Oh my, I hadn't thought of that. You could very well be right."

She smiled. "I don't know what he's saying, but he's rubbing against my neck, so I'm pretty sure he's just trying to comfort me."

"I agree," he said gently. "You definitely could use a little more comfort."

"What I want to do is talk to Mack."

"As soon as he can, he will be here."

She nodded. "I know that—at least I want to believe it—but I also know that things can get very harried at the station."

"He's probably down there at Mr. Woo's, while they process the crime scene," Nick pointed out. "Even if Mack can't be part of it, that doesn't mean he won't stay involved, as much as he's allowed. He'll want to see as much of the evidence as he can."

"Of course," she muttered.

He looked at her. "Any idea how Mathew died?"

She stared at him. "No, I don't have a clue. Do you?"

He shrugged. "No, I don't. I was asking you."

"Wondering if I had a look at him?"

"You did have a look at him," he stated. "So the question is, did you see anything?"

At that, she nodded. "I get what you're saying, but the answer really is no. I didn't get a chance to see anything."

"Too bad," he muttered.

"I presume that Mack will give us as much information as he can."

Nick shook his head. "Not likely, Doreen. You and he are the chief suspects. He won't be allowed to know much about the case. So, it would be good to have somebody else on this. You don't happen to know a private eye in town, do you?"

She stared at him in surprise and then slowly nodded. "Actually I do. He might help, although there will be a cost."

"Of course there's a cost," he said, with a wave of his hand. "There's always a cost."

"I know. I'm still adjusting to that," she muttered, with an eye roll.

He grinned. "But remember that you have money coming from the antiques auction."

"Yeah, I have that money coming," she repeated. "That seems to be this constant reply from everybody. It's like hearing people say, the check is in the mail, yet meaning that it'll never come."

"Oh, the antiques auction money is coming all right," Nick confirmed. "Though I'm not at all sure what happens to the divorce now, in terms of what you'll get from Mathew, but you also have Robin's money too. You did get that reward money from Bernard, so, with any luck, you'll be okay for a bit, while all this sorts out."

"Not if we start paying for a private eye," she cried out. "That's expensive." He glared at her, and she sat back. "Right, but staying in jail is expensive too." Then she stopped, looked at him, and gasped. "Do I have to pay for being in there?"

His lips twitched. "No. And, if you work in jail, you get paid."

"Oh, that's good." Then she laughed. "Watch, just watch. When I finally get my first real job, I'll be in jail." She shook her head. "What a mess."

"Go sit outside, and I'll bring the coffee," he suggested.

She nodded and went outside, walking to the fence to study the roses. When a man jumped over the fence and accidentally clipped her, she cried out. He was unperturbed and started taking pictures with his camera. She held Goliath up in front of her face and cried out, "Get out of here. Get out of here."

He was laughing. "Hey, look at that. Our famous local sleuth kills her ex-husband. Man, will this make good copy."

At that, Nick stepped out and took a picture of him, and declared, "You print that, young man, and we will have everything you own."

The guy looked at him in shock. "What do you mean?" he asked belligerently.

"You're trespassing and in the act of committing yet another crime," Nick explained, "so I suggest you put that camera down right now, and then we won't have to go any further."

The intruder snorted. "No way, old man. No way I'm doing that. Go ahead. Do what you want. You can't stop me from printing this."

"Maybe not," Nick acknowledged, "but I can guarantee it will be the last thing you ever do when it comes to printing photos that you gain illegally. You can wind up in jail yourself for this one."

"No way, my daddy will fix this."

At that comment, Doreen studied him, and his features clicked in the back of her mind. "Is Bernard your father, by any chance?"

He stared at her. "You know him too, do you? Are you one of his sleepover babes?"

"No, I assure you, I am not." Pulling out her phone, she took a picture of him herself, then sent it to Bernard, with a text that asked, Is this your son?

An affirmative response came back, then her phone rang. "Hey, what about my son? He was due back here for dinner."

"He's trespassing in my backyard, trying to take pictures of me to post on blogs, saying I murdered my ex-husband," she stated bluntly.

After a moment of silence, Bernard started roaring through the phone.

She held her phone up, looked at the kid, and said, "Your daddy wants to talk to you."

He stared at her, the color draining from his face. "That's not fair. I should get to have a life without him."

"Absolutely you do," Nick declared in a hard tone, "but you also get to have a life where you pay for the consequences of your actions. I already told you that. So, if you plan on printing any of that stuff, you can bet there'll be all kinds of fines and prison time to pay."

At that, Bernard spoke in Doreen's ear, "Keep him there. I'll be at your place in a second."

She looked over at the kid. "What's your name anyway?"

He stared at her. "It doesn't matter to you. Do you know what it's like growing up under that man?"

"No, I sure don't," she admitted, "but I do know that you got a chance to grow up, so it can't be all that bad."

He snorted at that. "He's got money. He's done everything. Been everywhere. Everybody respects him, blah, blah, blah," he muttered. "You can't even be your own person in this town, without everybody knowing who you are."

"Oh, I get it. I'm sorry about that. However, how many people will understand your life, as it seems to be a poor little rich kid lament?" Doreen was not willing to pull any punches on this one.

He just snorted at her. "That is not funny."

"Maybe not, but you could do something useful for a change."

He glared at her. "You don't know anything about me. You're just some dumb woman who's in trouble right now and looking for somebody to help you out. I'll make a few bucks off you. Count on it."

"Yeah, you can, and your father will even be more ashamed of you."

He stared at her. "Why? What are you talking about? He'll be proud of me. I got a good score on this one," he declared. "You can't have my camera, and you can't stop me from using this. Even if I don't sell them to a newspaper, I can still post them on blogs."

"Not without my permission," she stated. "You think you just get to post whatever you want, and nobody cares? There is such a thing as libel, you know."

He shrugged. "You're nobody. You're not a public figure. I can post whatever I want."

"And you think your daddy will be proud of that?" she asked, frowning. "Is that what this is all about? Proving to him that you're somebody? That you can do something?"

"I can do something," he snapped. "And you don't know the first thing about it."

"No, I don't," she agreed. "After all, you're the one assuming I murdered my ex-husband, so what do you care?"

"That's right," he declared. "I heard the news, and I came running."

"So, you are trespassing right now," she noted. "You illegally entered my backyard in order to accost me."

"That's not true," he stated. "I never touched you."

"Actually you did. Remember when you jumped down? That was me who you hit."

He glared at her. "That was an accident."

"I don't care whether it was an accident or not," she said, staring at him. "You don't know anything about this case, and all you care about is trying to prove to your dad that you're somebody. You don't care that your pictures will potentially turn people against me—people who could be on a jury one day. You could affect the outcome of my case, not to mention hurt innocent people along the way."

"Why do I care? You're nothing but a murderer!" he bellowed.

Just then Bernard let loose as he came around the corner, yelling in a way she had never seen. "You did not just say that about Doreen!" Bernard frowned in horror, as he raced to her side. He bent down and hugged her. "Hey, I just heard the news."

"Hey," she muttered, returning the hug and smiling up at him, relieved to know that he believed in her.

"What? You know her too?" the young man asked in disgust.

"Remember my ring and the woman who solved the case? That was Doreen."

At that, the kid looked hesitantly toward her.

She nodded. "Yeah, just think. Solving that case was a good thing for you too. Otherwise you could have had a stepmom the same age as you."

Bernard winced. "Okay, that wasn't necessary."

She laughed. "I swear, she would have been a little bit younger than him. I'm sure of it."

"Fine. Okay, have your laugh. Believe me when I say that I changed my tune on all those women anyway."

"Yeah, Dad, sure you have," the kid muttered.

She looked over at Bernard. "He jumped into my yard, hitting me on the arm on his way down, then started taking photos that he plans to post on some blogs, letting the town know about me, stating I murdered my husband."

Bernard straightened to his full height, glaring at his son. "Seriously?"

The kid pulled back sheepishly.

Bernard continued. "Already you're trespassing, which is a crime. You've taken photos without consent and now plan to post them, proclaiming her guilty of a terrible crime, without even knowing if the story is true?" Bernard's voice rose in shock.

"Truth is a thing he considers to be mutable," Doreen stated. "After all, who cares about the truth, if he can get money off it? He figures he can prove to his daddy that he's somebody for having scored on this one."

At that, Bernard popped up in a rage.

She reached out a hand, patted his arm gently, and added, "So, let's not prove to him how wrong he is right now. I do want that camera, and he's been put on notice that there will be a lawsuit if he publishes anything. I have my attorney right here. So you better tell your son all this too because that is yet something else he considers of absolutely no consequence."

At that, Bernard snorted. "I'll probably charge him myself for that."

"What are you talking about?" the kid asked. "Why would you do that? Isn't there anything I can ever do to make you trust me?"

"I don't know." Bernard asked his son, "Is there anything you ever do that I can trust you for?" Bernard shook his head. "Doreen doesn't deserve this treatment."

"So what? What do I care if she deserves it or not? Since when do you care about what anyone deserves or doesn't anyway?" the kid asked in disgust. "You've been in business all your life, and you're the one who keeps telling me how you must be ruthless."

"Yeah, I do. In a business sense, that is true. But there are limits to what lines you can cross and as to what standards for behavior one must meet."

"What do you even mean? Forget it," the kid muttered, and he looked toward the river. "I'm posting these pictures, and there is absolutely nothing you guys can do about it!" And, with that, he booked it, heading down to the river and disappearing so fast that none of the older group could even begin to stop him.

She looked over at Bernard.

"I'll fix it," he declared. "I promise." And, with that, he disappeared.

She looked up at Nick. "Please tell me the coffee is ready."

He smiled. "And what if it isn't?"

"If it isn't, I'll wait. But, if it is, please just inject it into my arm, so I can get through this day, then collapse."

"So, if that's the case, you don't want any caffeine," he countered, with a smile. "Otherwise you might stay up even later."

"I just can't believe what's going on," she muttered. "Between the kid, the guy pounding at the front door, Mathew's death, my standing on the suspect list, even Mack too, plus whatever else is coming, it's all too much."

Just then she heard one loud knock, and the front door popped open behind them, followed by Mack's huge frame filling the open kitchen doorway. She raced toward him, as he spread his arms wide. Throwing herself into them, she sank against him in relief, as Mack closed his arms around her and held on tight.