Verse and Vengeance Page 2

  Jo was a talented writer, but when I’d had her in class, she was terribly late with her work. I gave her more extensions than I should have, but she had a gift. In my time as a teaching assistant and now as an English professor, I had read more than my fair share of terrible writing, which was why good writing like hers tended to stand out.

  And she had always been polite when she asked for an extension by giving me free coffee from the campus coffee shop where she worked. Maybe I was taking bribes, but in the middle of the semester, free coffee was a lifesaver. I always ended up putting the money I owed her in the tip jar anyway. She was a hardworking student who went to school and worked two jobs to do it. She left working for the English department in December to take a job at the local bike shop, where she could get more consistent hours and higher pay. I didn’t blame her for doing this, but I did miss seeing her around the office.

  She was walking toward the street with a deep frown on her face. She looked over her shoulder a few times. I assumed it was because she didn’t want to get run over by an overzealous rider, which was entirely possible. Jo was small. The rider might not see her.

  I waved to her, and her face broke into a smile.

  “Professor Waverly.” She waved back.

  I maneuvered my bike until I was at the edge of the sidewalk. It took some doing and a lot of apologizing. I got my share of dirty looks, but I thought most of those were from riders who thought I was trying to get ahead of them at the starting gate. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I would very happily be at the back of the pack where I was in far less risk of getting run over by anything other than the police car that had the sad job of shepherding the slow riders to the end. Since I was dating the chief of police, I was guessing his officers would be very careful not to hit me.

  “Jo,” I said. “I told you, you aren’t in my class any longer. You can call me Violet.”

  She grinned. “I think I’m actually supposed to call you Dr. Waverly since you received your PhD.”

  I laughed. “That’s true, but Violet works just fine. Are you in the race?”

  “Heck no,” she said. “I’m not a crazy person.”

  I looked down at my bike.

  “Dr. Waverly, you are a little crazy.”

  “Maybe a little. My boyfriend, David, really wanted to do this as a couple thing, so here I am.”

  “Where is he?” she asked, looking all around and going slightly pale at the mention of the police chief.

  My brow wrinkled. “I’m guessing near the front. David hates to lose at anything. I’m definitely a back-of-the-pack rider.”

  “It’s safer back there.”

  “Agreed.”

  “What were you doing behind the village hall?”

  Her body jerked. “The village hall?”

  “Yes,” I said slowly. “That giant building behind you.”

  “Oh, right. I just was saying hello to my brother. He’s working in there today.”

  “I didn’t know you had a brother who worked for the village.” My brow wrinkled even more. I would have thought Grandma Daisy would have mentioned to me that Jo had a brother who worked for the city. I had talked about the student enough because of the many times I had been worried about her throughout the semester. At one point, I’d thought I would have to fail Jo because she hadn’t done enough of the assignments to pass, no matter how I reworked the math. In the end she came through and got a B-minus. Had she done the work in a more timely fashion, she would have had an A-plus based on her writing alone.

  “He doesn’t work for the village exactly. His company is working on the museum.”

  “He’s the contractor?”

  She nodded. “He lives in Niagara Falls, and I don’t see him that often. It’s been fun having him so close. Most of the time all he does is ask me about school, though.” She rolled her eyes. “Like that’s the only thing that matters.”

  “I’m sure he just wants you to succeed. Have you thought about transferring to a four-year college yet? There are several in Niagara Falls that would be a close driving distance for you, or you could take the bus. You wouldn’t have to pay to live on campus. I would write a recommendation letter for you.”

  Her face closed off, and I knew I’d lost her. I had been pushing a bachelor’s degree on Jo too hard. Springside was a community college, so the most we awarded was an associate’s degree. Jo had the talent to go further than what we offered, but I was in real risk of alienating her completely if I brought it up again.

  “Just keep that in mind,” I said. “I won’t mention it again.”

  “I know you’re just trying to help, Violet.” She said my name as if she was testing it out.

  “There you go,” I said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “Jo!” a booming voice called from the Riverwalk.

  “Yikes, that’s Bobby. I had better get back. The bike shop booth has been nuts since six this morning. I think Bobby’s in real risk of keeling over from the excitement.”

  I laughed. Bobby Holmes was the owner of Bobby’s Bike Shop. He was a compact, bald, African-American man who talked fast and knew bikes like some people knew their shoe size or their phone numbers. My grandmother had recruited him to handle the registration for the race. In exchange for that volunteer work, he’d gotten a prime spot on the Riverwalk before, during, and after the race to sell his merchandise to the hundreds of riders.

  “Violet!” Rainwater waved at me from near the starting line.

  I chuckled. “Looks like I’m being summoned, too.”

  She nodded, and the worried expression she’d had earlier reappeared on her face. I didn’t get a chance to ask her what was going on, because she waved at me. “I’ll see you after the race. Professor—Doctor—Waverly. Ride hard!” With that, she ran across the street to where Bobby was waiting for her.

  I watched her go with a furrowed brow.

  Someone announced over the loudspeaker that the race would start in two minutes.

  Rainwater appeared at my side and said, “Let’s find a spot.” He sounded more excited than I’d ever heard him. I followed him with my bike to a spot in the middle of the pack. “This is good.” He squeezed my hand. “Are you ready to ride?”

  I smiled back. “With you? Yes.”

  He grinned. “That’s all I need to hear.”

  As the gunshot signaling the beginning of the race went off, my concern for Jo fell away as I concentrated on not getting run over by eager riders. Had I known what was to happen that day, the worry would never have left me.

  Chapter Three

  My thighs burned and my back ached. I leaned over the handlebars of my mother’s bicycle as if my body weight would help propel me up the steep hill. I knew how ridiculous I looked huffing and puffing as I pedaled like the Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz. Instead of a black cape, I wore a violet helmet askew on my head.

  I shifted the bike into the lowest gear possible; my legs seemed to flail in space rather than propel the bicycle forward. I shifted back into third gear, and the chain ground as it moved, but finally caught on the gears. Other cyclists on bikes much better suited for racing flew by me. The wind cast off of them made my bike quiver.

  I let out a sigh of relief as I crested the top of the hill and caught a glimpse of myself in the tiny side mirror attached to my handlebars. My eyes were bloodshot from the strain.

  Rainwater stood next to his own bike at the top of the hill, waiting for me. “Vi, are you okay?” he asked as other riders zoomed by him. It took all my willpower not to growl at them as they waved and shouted, “Hello,” “Hello,” “Hello,” one after the other. I was too tired for any form of social pleasantries.

  I forced a smile, although I was afraid my expression looked much more like a grimace, but that couldn’t be helped. “Doing great! Just catching my breath.” I stared down the other side of the hill as riders whizzed by us. The incline was the steepest portion of the course and had been nicknamed B
reakneck Hill by villagers. Not that anyone had ever broken her neck riding down it, but it was a good idea to test your brakes before you went. I gave my brakes a squeeze for good measure.

  “It might have been easier to make it up the hill if you had stood up on the pedals.” His voice was tentative, as if he knew he was taking a great risk. He was right about standing up on the pedals and about the risk.

  I knew how to ride. I knew that standing and pedaling would have been more effective. It was exactly what I would have done if my legs hadn’t been screaming at me to stop. We were twenty-five miles into the thirty-mile ride. My body could only do so much.

  “I thought you liked to bike,” Rainwater said. “You bike all over the village all day long.”

  “Riding between Charming Books and Le Crepe Jolie is not the same as a thirty-mile bike ride uphill both ways.”

  He laughed. “You sound like everyone’s grandfather when you say that. It’s not uphill both ways.”

  I adjusted the chin strap of my helmet. “Besides, when I leave the café, I usually am carrying a snack. Will there be snacks at the end of this?”

  Rainwater smiled. “I’ll make sure you get a snack at the end.” His amber eyes twinkled. “And for what it’s worth, you look adorable when you’re hot and tired.”

  I could only guess how red my face was, perhaps as red as my strawberry-blonde hair. Super cute, I was sure.

  “You better have some more water before we continue on,” he said. “I can’t have you dying from heatstroke on me.”

  I grunted and yanked my water bottle from the holder. After a long swig, I felt revived enough to know I was giving Rainwater a harder time than he deserved. “I’m sorry I keep slowing you up. I don’t do much hill work in my rides around the village.”

  He smiled, and his white teeth shone against his damp, tawny-colored skin. Even when he was sweaty and tired, he was still the most handsome man I had ever seen. Sometimes I had to remind myself that he was my boyfriend.

  Rainwater leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. “You’re doing great. I know you weren’t keen on doing this charity ride, but I’m so proud that you did it.”

  I stepped back. “Ick. You don’t want to kiss me. I’m sweaty and gross,” I protested.

  “So am I, and I don’t care. You deserve a kiss for encouragement. You looked so determined coming up that hill. I don’t think I have ever seen anything like it.” There was a slight chuckle in his tone.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “No, I would never.” His grin was full-on now. He leaned forward and kissed me again, this time on the mouth, as four more riders whizzed by.

  “People are going to talk about us if you keep that up.” I hoped that my blushing cheeks could be blamed on the ride.

  He laughed. “I’m pretty sure that everyone in the village already knows about us. Daisy practically threw a parade when we got together.”

  I sighed. He was right. I opened my mouth to make another joke about it when a bike passed us but at a much slower pace than the others. The rider had blond hair and a mustache and held up a small digital camera as he flew by. The flash caught me directly in the eye, but not before I saw the man behind the camera. Redding.

  I blinked away the dots as I stood there with my mouth hanging open. “Did you see that?” I asked Rainwater.

  He got back on his bike. “Wasn’t that Joel Redding? What is he doing back in Cascade Springs?”

  I bit the inside of my lip. That was something I would like to know, too.

  “Why was he taking photos of you?” Rainwater asked.

  I licked my lips. “How do you know he was taking photos of me? He might have just been photographing what he could of the race. Maybe he’s investigating someone in the race? Or maybe he cycles in his free time?”

  Rainwater arched his brow. “He was wearing an oxford shirt at a bike race. He’s not here for the Tour de Cascade Springs.”

  Yes, that blue-and-white button-down shirt wasn’t your typical athletic clothing. Redding stood out like a nun at a circus.

  As David’s eyes narrowed further, I could all but see his police chief hat slipping on over his bike helmet. And the last thing I wanted was to be on the receiving end of one of his interrogations. While I’d never lie to him outright, I didn’t want to unload all my worries and concerns, especially as they pertained to my Caretaker role, in the middle of the Tour de Cascade Springs bike race. As it was, our brief pause atop the hill had only barely allowed me to catch my breath.

  He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something more, but I cut him off by jumping back on my bike. “Let’s go. We have to have a respectable showing in this race. We don’t want to embarrass the mayor, do we?”

  I started down Breakneck Hill. Trees lined either side of the narrow two- lane road and felt like they were closing in on me just as they had when I was a child. I coasted down the hill and was breathing hard. It wasn’t from the pedaling. I was out of breath because Redding was here. I had been right—he was watching me. I’d acted like Redding couldn’t possibly be taking photographs of me, but I knew better than to think I’d fooled Rainwater. David was far too smart and observant. Thankfully, he was also a gentleman. And as a gentleman, he’d not called his girlfriend out on her bumbling attempt to deny the obvious.

  As far as Redding was concerned, I knew he was taking photographs of me because he wanted to expose my secret. I supposed if he found out the truth behind Charming Books, he could make a lot of money, and from what I knew of Joel Redding, making money was his prime objective as a detective.

  But I wasn’t going to let that happen. I would do whatever it took to keep him from finding out the shop’s secret.

  Rainwater came up alongside me as we made it down the hill. “Violet,” he began.

  I pretended I didn’t hear him and pedaled faster, like the tires of my bike were on fire. I knew I couldn’t outrun Rainwater forever or even until the end of the race, but I wanted to get my story straight in my head first.

  “Whoa!” Rainwater cried. “Violet! Slow down.”

  I looked over my shoulder.

  “Don’t look at me! Look ahead of you!”

  I spun my head around and saw at least a dozen people standing in the middle of the road. Some of them were riders still on their bicycles and some were onlookers. Bikes that were still in the race careened around the spectators as they tore by. I squeezed my handle breaks with all my might, leaving a thick layer of rubber on the road. I careened off the course and into the grass, barely missing a tree as my bike bounced to a stop and I leaped off.

  Rainwater came to a stop beside me. “Violet, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, I think. Why where all those people in the middle of the road like—”

  “He’s dead!” a voice in the crowd screamed.

  Rainwater hopped off his bicycle, let it fall into the grass, and took off running even before I could process what I’d heard.

  Chapter Four

  My reaction time wasn’t as quick as Rainwater’s, but I took off after him, not even bothering to take off my violet helmet as I made my way through the crowd.

  The bike race had come to a complete stop at this point as more and more riders and onlookers gathered on the road. I pushed my way through the throng. “Excuse me. Excuse me. I’m with the police.”

  Most of the people were tourists who didn’t know me, so claiming I was with the police didn’t seem like too much of a risk, especially since I was with Rainwater.

  The spandex-clad crowd parted ways for me. I saw Rainwater and the EMTs who were there to treat injuries for the race, but I doubted they’d expected a death. I cringed to think what I would find and what it would mean for the village or my grandmother if a rider had died during the Tour de Cascade Springs. Like all races, this one had required each participant to sign a lengthy waiver acknowledging that if he or she was maimed or killed during the ride, it wasn’t the village�
��s fault and the village couldn’t be sued, but the bad press was certainly unavoidable.

  “Excuse me,” I said to a large man in my path. His biker shorts were stretched to the limit.

  He glared at me so hard that I stumbled back in surprise. He wasn’t a person I knew, but that didn’t mean much. In the late spring and summer, Cascade Springs was overrun with tourists from all over the world. It was a popular place on the bed-and-breakfast circuit for those visiting the majestic Niagara Falls.

  I edged around the man.

  “Looks like a bad accident,” someone said.

  “I think I’ve seen him in the village before. Wasn’t he here in the winter when all that went down with the Morton family?”

  I shivered as I started to realize who must be lying on the ground. Maybe I was wrong—I was still holding out hope that it wasn’t who I thought it was. It couldn’t possibly be.

  “Looks to me like he lost control while coming down the hill.”

  “What an awful thing to happen at a wonderful charity event,” another bystander mused.

  I pushed through the crowd and made my way to the front. Finally, I spotted Rainwater leaning over a man lying on the ground. A few feet away, the man’s red-and-silver bike lay crumpled on the road. The front wheel was bent; the spokes had broken loose from the rim. It was clear that whatever caused the accident had thrown him over the handlebars.

  I edged around the scene, taking care to keep my distance. Rainwater wouldn’t want me to be there, but he wouldn’t be surprised I was here either.

  I saw a foot sticking out next to Rainwater. What caught my attention most about it was that it was a loafer, which wasn’t exactly a regulation cycling shoe. I inched a little to the left and looked at the face of the person on the ground, but I already knew who it would be. Joel Redding. This was definitely a time that I didn’t want to be right.

  I hadn’t cared for the man in life, but in death, I had sympathy for him. What a terrible way to die. I swallowed hard. Had the shop revealed Walt Whitman to me after I saw Redding the night before so I would know to warn him? Had I failed somehow and contributed to his death by not understanding what the essence wanted me to do? I knew from past experience that when the shop’s essence put a book in my path repeatedly, there was a reason. It was its way of giving me clues of what was to come, to help me understand what had happened, and at times to warn me. Honestly, it would have been a whole lot easier if it would just come right out and say what the heck was going on, but according to my grandmother, it had never worked that way.