Саманта Сильвер: Lipstick On A Pig

“Fine, it’s totally fine. No problems at all. Listen, I have a great idea for an article for you to write when the festival ends.”

“Oh yeah?” Jason asked, his journalism instincts perking up at my suggestion.

I told him about my conversation with Larry and how I needed six months to find someone with enough money who wanted to buy the property from Larry.

“I can definitely write an article about that,” Jason replied. “I can’t guarantee that you’ll get any replies though. Willow Bay is a small place. There aren’t really a lot of people here with that kind of money. Even people who do—like me, for example—often don’t want to sink such a large amount of capital into one project.”

“I know,” I sighed. “I just don’t want to lose hope just yet.”

“Don’t worry,” Jason told me. “I’m sure you’ll find something. You always seem to figure things out. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

“Hey, while I have you on the phone, I got a friend of mine at the DMV to look some stuff up.”

“How do you have a friend at the DMV? You’ve lived in this state for like three months.”

“I’m very good at my job. Now, do you want to hear what I found out, or not?”

“Yes, of course I do!”

“Well, luckily, I think I’ve actually got a lead. I called Chief Gary this morning to tell him, and he’s onto it.”

“Wait, you told Chief Gary before you told me?” I accused.

“Hey, if we’re right, then Lester Forrester tried to kill you last night. I’m totally all for you trying to solve a murder, but not if it involves you getting killed.”

“So it’s Lester Forrester then?”

“Well, at the very least, he owns a black BMW 3-series. Andrew Forrester drives a white Volvo, and his wife has a black Audi SUV.”

“What’s Chief Gary doing about it then?” I asked.

“Well, I imagine he’s going to go speak with Lester Forrester today. He thanked me for the tip, but I actually had a feeling he’d already done the same check.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me. Chief Gary might be a small town cop, but he’s pretty good at his job.”

“He also told me to make sure to tell you to absolutely stay out of this.”

“I know, I know.”

“Do you really, though?” Jason asked me pointedly. “I haven’t known you for long, but I do know you’re not the type to back down.”

“Lester Forrester tried to kill me last night, I know when to cool my jets a little bit,” I lied.

“Good. Do you want to grab a coffee later this afternoon? I have to write my articles for the paper today, but I’ll be free later.”

“Yeah, sure. Send me a text, that sounds good,” I replied.

I hung up the phone and frowned. So Lester Forrester had tried to drive me off the road last night. That made it unlikely that Andrew Forrester was working alone. It was either Lester Forrester on his own, or both of them in it together. At least we were narrowing down the pool of suspects.

As I wandered downtown, I couldn’t help but get this nagging feeling that something was escaping me. I was missing something about this murder, but I had no idea what. I decided to head to Betty’s Café and get a vegetarian BLT for lunch while I mulled things over.

Once again, Betty’s was packed. I gave Betty my order and managed to snag a table in the corner as I people-watched, thinking over everything I knew about Jessica Oliver’s murder in my head.

Suddenly, it came to me! Why was Jessica Oliver’s body dumped at the petting zoo? Because she had been in Willow Bay that day. Surely she wouldn’t have told the Forrester brothers she was going to Willow Bay that day, she had no reason to. And the video of her abusing me that day didn’t really go viral until after her body was found. She would have told her boyfriend, however. He would have known what she was doing that day. If I could get Jonathan Cork to tell me that he had told one of the Forrester brothers about Jessica’s plans, then I could prove that they knew where Jessica was, and would have had the opportunity to kill her.

I leapt up from my chair and told Betty I needed my sandwich to go after all. Three minutes later she handed it to me, and I ran from the shop and back to my car.

I was going back to Portland once more.

The offices at Forrester, Forrester and Cork were practically abandoned. The only car in the parking lot that morning was Jonathan Cork’s. I walked up to the front door, without realizing it was a Sunday and the offices were closed. I supposed Jonathan Cork must have been catching up with some extra work.

Glancing around quickly, I made sure there was no one around watching me, and cast a quick unlocking spell on the door. I heard the lock click open and I pushed forward. I had to get Jonathan Cork to tell me who he had told about Jessica going to Willow Bay that day. It would be circumstantial evidence; I knew that much from watching way too many episodes of CSI and Law and Order, but it was something.

As I crept up the stairs, the hollow echo of my footsteps the only sound I could hear, everything suddenly felt a lot creepier. I briefly wondered if maybe I should have brought Sophie with me, or if I should go back. But then I put that thought out of my head. After all, Jonathan Smith was the only person here, and thanks to Charlotte’s spell we were one hundred percent certain he wasn’t a murderer.

A creep? Yeah, definitely. But murderer, no.

I used another unlocking spell to let myself into the offices—if Cork asked I was just going to tell him the doors were unlocked, that he must not have locked them properly—and made my way through the empty halls. The lights were on, which at least helped to mitigate the creepiness factor somewhat.

Then, just as I was about to turn down a corridor toward Cork’s office, something hit me on the back of the head and everything went black.

Chapter 20

The pounding in my head was the first sign that I’d woken up. Slowly, I opened my eyes. All I could see around me was darkness; I had no idea where I was. Moving my arms and legs I noticed my arms were tied behind my back and my legs were tied together. I was on my side, and in such an awkward position that it was impossible to sit upright.

“Oh great, you’re up,” said a vaguely familiar female voice from somewhere. I groaned slightly and tried to force my eyes to focus. A moment later I saw who was talking to me. It was Jonathan Cork’s secretary, Dorthy MacMillan.

“You,” I said, half accusatorily, half confused.

“Yes, me,” she replied.

Suddenly something clicked.

“Ohhhh,” I said. “Your car isn’t in the parking lot because you’re the one who tried to drive me off the road last night.”

The older woman smirked. “Yes, it was. I wrecked the front end of my Toyota, but told the body shop I simply hit the fence at my home. By the end of the day today there will be no sign that anything had ever happened.”

“So the Forrester brothers had nothing to do with the murders? It was all you?”

The woman barked out a laugh. It was a harsh sound, with no humor in it.

“Those morons? They’re too scared of Jonathan to ever do anything about his girlfriends. They don’t have the guts.”

“But you do,” I replied.

“Of course I do,” she said. “None of those women were good enough for him.”

Great. I was dealing with a crazy person here.

“But you were,” I said. “The loyal secretary.” I didn’t really know where I was going with this conversation, I just wanted to keep her talking while I figured things out. It looked like we were in her office, but with the blinds drawn and the door closed. I briefly considered trying to scream loud enough to get Jonathan Cork’s attention, but when I thought about the layout of this office, I realized his office was down the hall and around the corner with all the other executives—at least seven or eight offices down. There was no way he’d manage to hear me if I screamed, and then the secretary would kill me for sure.