Page 68 of Christmas Mittens Murder

So, yeah, I’d failed at almost everything in my adult life. But . . . Allie being suspected of murder? I needed to get to the bottom of that ASAP, and I couldn’t let fear of failure get in my way. I knew my twin hadn’t done it, whatever it was. I hoped this farmer Cam Flaherty, aka amateur sleuth, might be able to help.

I turned onto Manzanita and paused in front of Exchange Bakery and Gourmet Provisions. Allie was busy, and her husband, Fuller, was out of town. The least I could do was cook dinner tonight for two sets of twins.

Chapter Five

My arms were laden with paper shopping bags full of pasta, olives, gourmet tomato sauce, a hunk of nutty Parmesan, a bottle of Chianti, six ripe peaches, and a quart of vanilla ice cream when I turned down the side walkway of Allie’s house. I halted. A slight man in a dark blazer was knocking on the side door.

I unfroze my feet and strode toward him. “Can I help you?”

He turned toward me and flashed a badge at me. He put it away as quickly. This might be the detective who was questioning Allie earlier.

“Sheriff’s Deputy Detective Quan, ma’am. I’m looking for a Ms. Cecelia Barton.”

“Excuse me, Detective Quan. I didn’t get a good look at your ID.” I set my bags on the pavement.

“You’re being careful. Good. My apologies.” He extended it again and waited until I read it and nodded.

“Thank you. I’m Cecelia Barton. What can I do for you?”

“You are Alicia’s sister, I gather. I’d like to have a short conversation with you, if it’s convenient.”

I bobbed my head. “I am, it is, and I have melting ice cream at my feet. Would you like to come inside?”

“Thank you.” As I unlocked the door, he hoisted both my bags and brought them in, setting them on the island of the spacious renovated kitchen.

“I appreciate that.” I stowed the ice cream and left the rest. I faced him. “Have a seat.” I gestured at the kitchen table near the wall of windows to the backyard. I needed to clear Allie’s name. If I was nice to this guy, it all might happen faster and more easily. Up to now he’d been nothing but polite.

He pulled out a small tablet, or maybe it was a big phone. “I understand you’re staying here during your visit, Ms. Barton.”

“I am.”

“Had you ever met Valencia Harper?”

Valencia? A name as beautiful as Allie’s. “Yes, I met Val yesterday afternoon in Vino y Vida at about four or five o’clock. We chatted a little. I’d never seen her before and didn’t see her again.”

He tapped in a note. “Please walk me through your movements last evening.”

“I came back here. I ate dinner with Allie and her sons. I went to bed.”

“Where in the house is the room you’re occupying?”

“It’s actually directly above this one.”

“With windows on the driveway,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Were you aware of your sister leaving the premises?”

“What? No, of course not. Where would she go?” As soon as I uttered those words, I wished I could take them back.

“Are you positive her car didn’t leave the property?”

I thought back. “Well, no. I mean, I wear earplugs to sleep when I travel, and my curtains were closed. I should think I would hear her car, but . . .” I let my voice trail off. “But listen, Detective. My sister would never, ever leave her boys asleep without telling me she was going out and when she’d be back. More important, she does not have it in her to kill anyone. I’m serious. You can’t possibly suspect her.”

He neither defended nor denied. “What about this other guest, a Cameron Flaherty? I understand you’ve been spending time with her.”

How did he know that?