too,” I said. “I’d feel so bad if she got sick about this. So, let’s hurry up. Get back and make sure she’ll be okay.”
Riding with Bay to Melborne and back wasn’t as bad as I’d thought. I enjoyed his conversation, and even though Miss Vivee was his grandmother, we shared the same concern about her. Bay called the Sheriff and told him to meet us at the Maypop and we all made it back as quick as we could. The Sheriff pulling up at the same time as we did. When we got there, there were a few cars out front.
The bell jangled over the oak doors as the three of us, Bay, Sheriff Haynes and I walked in. And there in the foyer were Renmar, Brie, Deputy Pritchard, Mac, Hazel and Oliver. And Miss Vivee was sitting on the bench we always shared, Cat lying at her feet.
“Is everything okay?” Bay asked looking around the room.
Renmar waved her hand in the air. “Mother made us all come in here and wait for you.” She cut her eyes toward Miss Vivee and scowled. “She says she’s solved Gemma’s murder and we all had to be here for her to tell us who did it.”
All of us looked at Miss Vivee.
“What do you know, Miss Vivee?” I asked and went over and sat next to her on the bench. “Was it Jeffrey Beck?” I didn’t know how she could know that if that was what she was going to say. But she answered, “No.”
“Then who,” I asked. “Who killed Gemma Burke?
Miss Vivee pointed her finger to the person standing at the bottom of the steps. Their bruised hand resting on the banister.
“It was Colin Pritchard,” she said. “He killed Gemma Burke.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“I’m . . . The murderer?” Colin seemed confused. Even frightened. He spoke in short, quick sentences, taking a breath between words. His eyes darting around the room “No. No way. I’m . . . Not . . . I-I couldn’t be.” I saw a tear roll down his face as he started backing away toward the door. “I loved her.” He looked over his shoulder at the entranceway, just as the sheriff stepped in front of it.
Miss Vivee leaned over and whispered to me. “Told you. That boy don’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.” Then she shouted at him, much louder than necessary, “Yes, Colin Pritchard, you are the murderer. Tell him Mac.”
“Gemma died from blunt chest trauma. A diaphragmatic injury,” Mac explained. The diaphragm is a muscle that allows the lungs to work. It relaxes so the lungs can fill up and pushes up to expel the air. When it doesn’t work, because it’s been ruptured like Gemma’s so Vivee tells me the autopsy found, then the person can’t get in enough oxygen and then they drown. It’s called dry drowning.”
“What are you talking about, Mac?” Colin said. “I didn’t do anything to Gemma’s diaphragm.”
“The diaphragm can rupture from a fall or if struck with a firm object like a bat or a ball. Or a fist,” Mac said balling up his hand and shaking it at Colin. “A fist to the abdomen, if the blow is hard enough, can burst a diaphragm.”
Colin looked down at his hand and then his gaze drifted off.
“You remember that bandage you had on your hand the day Gemma died, don’t you?” Miss Vivee asked Colin. “The bruise I brought salve for?”
My breath caught in the back of my throat.
Colin started shaking his head.
“You hurt your hand when you hit that tree, didn’t you,” Miss Vivee asked. “You were the one that Darius Hamilton saw arguing with Gemma in the park. You hit that tree with your fist. And you hit Gemma in her stomach.”
Bay moved in closer to Colin and the Sheriff stood in front of the door and spread his legs shoulder width apart.
“Why is everyone looking at me?” Colin said. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You killed her, Colin,” Hazel Cobb said, a look of realization on her face. “I remember that bandage. You killed Gemma Burke.”
“I did not.” His eyes darted around the room.
“How did you hurt your hand, Colin,” Bay asked.
“We fought . . . I mean argued. Me and Gemma. I’ll admit to that,” Colin said. “And I did hit that tree with my fist.” He rubbed his hand where the bandage had been. “I was just so upset. But she was fine when I left her.”
“Tell us what happened,” Bay said.
“She kept