but that’s nothing new.”
“True,” Tessa agreed.
“I think he came in, got his brownie, and left.” She nodded emphatically. “That’s right. I remember seeing him bike away. He’d simply dumped his bike on the bakery walkway, blocking it. Pisses me off when he does that, but no other customers were around to step over it, so I doubt he spoke with anyone.”
“Thank you, Edith. We appreciate it,” said Tessa.
Cate took a closer look at the interior of the bakery that she’d visited all her life. When studied through fresh eyes, it suddenly appeared very shabby. “Business going okay, Edith?”
She shrugged. “Same as always. The summer tourist business makes up for the rest of the year, you know.” She eyed her glass cases with affection. “I am getting tired, though, and this building has more problems every year. I asked my niece if she was interested in taking over for me, and she said she’d think about it.” Edith rolled her eyes as she handed over their food and coffee. “Kids are a bit lazy these days.”
Edith’s niece was in her fifties.
Tessa’s phone rang, and the women excused themselves. Outside Cate bit into her fritter as Tessa took her call. The fritter was still warm.
“Where is it?” Tessa asked into her phone, her face deadly serious.
Cate’s ears perked up at Tessa’s tone.
“Yep. On my way. Thanks, Bruce.” She put her phone away. “Someone anonymously reported that Rosa Underwood’s vehicle has new front-end damage.”
“The bookstore owner?”
“Yep. The car is parked in a garage in the alley behind her home.”
“If it’s in the garage, how did someone see it?”
Tessa raised a brow at her.
“Right. Nosy neighbors.”
“Wanna come? Kurt is meeting me there. We might need an extra hand.”
Cate knew she needed to interview Arlie. But she couldn’t pass up finding out if Brad’s accident had been solved. “I’ll come.”
3
The tiny freestanding garage behind Rosa Underwood’s home was locked. Tessa and Kurt peeked through a dirty window. “There’s a sedan with a sheet over the front end,” she said. “The sheet dips in near the left front headlight. Someone had to be really snoopy to spot that.” She stepped back and sighed. “I hope the damage is actually old. This isn’t where I wanted to find the vehicle that hit Brad.”
Cate understood. Rosa Underwood was a quiet woman who kept to herself. She owned Cheater’s Bookstore, and Cate believed it was her perfect job. Rosa’s nose was always in a book. Even when she was working. “Maybe someone else was driving.”
“Let’s find out.” Tessa led the way, and she and Kurt knocked on the front door while Cate stayed far back and off to the side. Her gaze never left the door.
Rosa may be a quiet woman, but we can’t know how she’ll act if cornered.
Cate pictured Rosa Underwood answering the door with a shotgun, and she ran a sweating hand over her eyes.
I need to talk with someone. This anxiety is out of hand.
The FBI had set up meetings with a counselor soon after she’d been shot. Cate had found the psychologist pleasant and understanding but had felt as if she was wasting both their time. He’d cautioned that if she had moments exactly like this, he would want to see her. She’d brushed it off.
He’d been right.
No one answered the door, and the deputies checked the perimeter of the house. “She’s most likely at Cheater’s,” said Kurt.
“I’ve never liked the name of that bookstore,” said Cate.
Tessa looked surprised. “It’s hilarious. No hiding the island’s history.”
“Maybe it just never seemed right for Rosa Underwood,” Cate amended. “She’s so reserved. Not the type to have a store with an off-color name.”
“True. Let’s go see if she’s working today.”
Minutes later, Cate followed Tessa and Kurt into Cheater’s Bookstore. Rosa was on a stool behind the counter, engrossed in a thick book. She glanced up with a smile as they entered, and then her face crumpled as she saw the county uniforms. Tears and muffled wails started as she dropped her book and covered her face with her hands.
I guess this is our driver.
Rosa Underwood was an average-looking woman who blended in on the island. She was small and always wore simple sweatshirts and jeans, her graying hair in a short bob. She rarely spoke up unless addressed and preferred her books to people. Cate often felt the same way.
Right now Rosa was a blubbering mess.
Cate hung back as Tessa led the woman to a table and chairs near the back of the store. A black longhaired