A Fatal Slip (14 page)

I stroked her hair. “I’m sure it feels like the end of the world, but you need to keep things in perspective. It’s not like somebody died.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the most sensitive thing to say, but I hardly expected her reaction. Rose pulled away from me as though I were on fire, then raced out of the store, leaving the tissue box and its discards in the middle of the aisle. I picked up the half-empty box but decided to leave the rest of the cleanup to regular store personnel.

As I checked out, the girl behind the register noticed the opened tissue box. “We sell whole boxes, too, you know.”

“My friend had a bit of a meltdown, and I thought I’d get these for her. By the way, you need a cleanup in aisle five.”

I drove home with my pies and the tissues, wondering what had set Rose Nygren off. Then it hit me. I’d said nobody had died, but was that true? Could her secret boyfriend have been Charlie Cobb? I tried to imagine them together, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t picture it. That didn’t mean it wasn’t so, though. Love could do strange things to people. Rose said her boyfriend had dumped her, and the next thing I knew, Charlie Cobb was dead. Could Rose have killed him in a fit of rage? Ordinarily she was pretty mild mannered, but I’d seen her temper poke through her calm exterior before. I still couldn’t see her as a murderer, but that didn’t eliminate her as a suspect. I was going to have to get someone from the Firing Squad to look into Rose’s love life, no matter how distasteful it might be.

Thinking of my impromptu investigation unit made me wonder if I’d made a mistake facing Rick Cobb myself. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Butch Hardcastle would have been a much better choice. I’d call him when I got home and have him try talking to the bar owner. I wasn’t exactly sure how Butch managed to get information out of people who were generally reluctant to give it, but he had a way about him. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what techniques he used.

I walked into the house and slid both pies across the counter to my husband, but he saw only the meringue. “Carolyn, you know I hate that fluffy whipped stuff.”

“Don’t get your shorts in a bunch, you little girl, there’s an apple pie there, too.”

Bill looked startled by the harsh bite of my words. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. Thanks for going out.”

He looked so hangdog, I couldn’t leave it. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I ran into someone at the grocery store.”

“What did Kendra say to you this time? I swear, that woman needs a good swift kick in the seat of the pants.”

“She never wears pants, just muumuus, and she’s not the one I ran into. I saw Rose Nygren, and she was having a nervous breakdown in the middle of the paper goods aisle.”

“What was wrong with her?”

“Her boyfriend dumped her a few days ago,” I said, not sure I wanted to share my theory with Bill until I had more information.

“Isn’t she a little long in the tooth to have a boyfriend?” Bill asked as he cut himself a full quarter of the apple pie and slid it onto a dinner plate.

“She’s younger than I am,” I said stiffly.

“That’s my point. You’ve been married nearly thirty years.”

“Some of us are luckier than others. Let me get this straight. Your problem is with the terminology, not the status, right? What should I call him? I can’t bring myself to say ‘lover,’ and ‘companion’ sounds rather fishy, too, doesn’t it? Would you like me to say ‘significant other’?”

“I don’t know what I meant,” he said between bites. The lemon meringue, though it still looked tasty, was dead to me at the moment. The image of Rose and Charlie intertwined was enough to put me off pie for life.

Then I remembered Butch. “I’ll be right back. I have to make a phone call.” I gestured to his quickly diminishing section of pie. “You should at least have some milk with that so there’s some remote semblance to it being healthy.”

“That’s a great idea, but not because of nutrition. This thing’s full of healthy eating. It’s chock full of apples, and everybody knows how good those are for you.”

“Sure, without the processed sugar, bleached flour, and thousand and one preservatives.”

Bill put a bite-sized portion on his fork and studied it for a second. “I don’t care what you say, it looks good to me.”

He ate the bite with great gusto, then asked, “While you’re up, would you mind pouring me a glass of that milk you were pushing a few seconds ago?”

“You’re hopeless, you know that, don’t you?” I got his milk, then took the phone and went into the living room. I had to look up Butch’s number in the address book I kept in my purse.

He answered on the first ring. “It’s about time, Evans. What took you so long?”

“It’s Emerson, actually,” I said. “Butch, this is Carolyn. Is this a bad time?”

“No, it’s fine,” he said. “Maybe a busy signal will get the message across that I expect promptness. What can I do for you?”

“It’s nothing that can’t wait,” I said, suddenly regretting the call.

“I know better. I’m listening.”

“There’s a bar on the outskirts of town called the Thirsty Swan. Do you know it?”

“I’ve stopped in a time or two, but it’s not really my crowd. Why do you ask?” In the background, I heard someone say, “Evans is on the other line. He says it’s urgent.”

“Tell him I’ll talk to him later,” Butch said, obviously trying to muffle the phone with his hand.

“This can wait.”

“So can he,” Butch said. “What about the Swan?”

“I was wondering if you knew the bartender there.” After a moment of silence, Butch said, “He’s Cobb’s brother. I forgot all about him. Good work, Carolyn.”

“Actually, it was Jenna’s notion.”

“I keep telling her that she’s perfect for this kind of stuff, but she won’t listen to me,” Butch said, his admiration for the retired judge apparent in his tone of voice.

“The problem is, I tried to talk to him about the situation with Charlie, and he brushed me off.” I brought Butch up-to-date on the clause in Jerry Cobb’s will, and before I could finish, he said, “I’ll go talk to him right now. Should I call you when I’m finished, or do you want to wait until tomorrow for an update?”

“You don’t have to drop everything for me,” I said.

“Honestly, it can wait.”

“I need to get out of here for a while anyway,” Butch said. “I’ll touch base with you later.”

He hung up before I could protest any further. I wondered who Evans was, and why it was so urgent he get in touch with Butch, but knowing my gruff friend, I’d probably never find out. That was what was wrong with life sometimes: the answers weren’t always provided to the questions that were posed.

Chapter 8

Bill was struggling to finish the last bite of his pie when I rejoined him, but at least most of his milk was gone.

“You could just throw that last bit away,” I said.

He looked at me as if I’d proposed he commit treason. “I was just relishing the last morsel,” he said, rather insincerely.

“Go on then, be a mule.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He ate the last bite, then pushed his plate away.

“You’re never going to get to sleep tonight on that full stomach,” I said.

“I’ll suffer through it. You know what? It was worth every last swallow. If I should have trouble sleeping, I’ll just remember how good that pie was. Aren’t you going to have any?”

The meringue did look good. “Maybe a sliver.” I cut a piece a tad bigger than a sliver but smaller than a slice. My husband sneered at it. “That’s not worth getting a plate dirty. Go on, Carolyn, have a real piece.”

“Unlike some people, I can restrain myself.”

“I don’t know why you bother,” he said as he got up.

After he was gone, I ate the sliver on my plate, then replaced it with another one since I was still hungry and it was especially good. I was just about to start in on it, too, when Bill came back in. “The cable’s out again. I swear, every time the wind blows, we lose our signal.” He looked at my plate. “Do you mean to tell me you haven’t even started that yet? You’re hopeless, Carolyn.”

I wasn’t about to admit that I was on my second piece, though my combined portions were nothing compared to his epic slice. “I’m not in any hurry.”

“It’s going to go bad if you wait too long,” he said.

I took a healthy bite, then asked, “There, are you satisfied?”

“Not really,” he replied. “I’m going to go read.”

“I’ll join you as soon as I finish this,” I said.

“I won’t hold my breath. Who knows how long that will be.”

I finished my pie, rinsed both our plates and Bill’s empty glass, then retrieved the latest book I was reading. I was just getting into it when the phone rang.

Grabbing it before Bill could, I said, “Hello.”

“Carolyn, it’s Butch. I’m afraid there’s a problem.”

“Did something happen at the bar?” I could just see Butch in police custody for having questioned Rick Cobb a little too enthusiastically.

“No. He took off this evening. According to the backup bartender, something spooked him.”

“What could have made him just run away like that?” Butch started chuckling, and I asked, “What’s so funny?”

“You don’t get it, do you? He was probably running because of you.”

“What? You can’t be serious. I don’t think I even managed to get through to him, let alone frighten him.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t your demeanor that drove him off. I’m guessing it was the questions you were asking. Don’t worry, I’ll track him down, but it’s going to take a little longer than I thought.”

“Don’t go to too much trouble on my account,” I said.

“I won’t drop everything—I can’t—but I’m not going to let it go, either. I’ll ask around, have a few people I know keep an eye out for him.”

“Will that do any good?” The United States was a big place, and while I knew Butch’s contacts spread throughout the country, I doubted they’d be able to track Cobb simply by keeping an eye out.

“You’d be surprised. Guys like Cobb run to a pattern. I’ve got a pretty good idea where he’d hole up.”

“Thanks, Butch.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything.” He was gone before I could protest. Though I wasn’t thrilled with Butch’s past, or perhaps even his present, he was an invaluable resource to consult when I ran into difficulties on the grayer side of the law. If anyone could find the wayward bartender, it was Butch Hardcastle. In the meantime, I needed to start digging into Rose’s life and see if the man she’d been dating was, as Rose had put it, really gone.

The next morning, I was at In the Grounds half an hour before I was due to meet Hannah. I wanted a word with Nate Walker, and I hoped I could handle it without accusing him of murder. Sandy’s timeline connection between Winnie’s death and Charlie’s DUI arrest could be coincidence, and if it was, I didn’t want to be the one to draw it to Nate’s attention.

Nate was there, for a nice change of pace. He even looked pleased to see me at In the Grounds.

“Morning, Carolyn. You’re in early today. What can I get you?”

“How about five minutes of conversation?”

He looked around the coffee shop. I was glad there weren’t that many people there. “I guess so. What’s it about?”

“Your wife.”

The blood seemed to drain out of his face. “I don’t want to talk about Winnie.”

“We’re friends, Nate. If you answer my questions, I won’t have to tell the sheriff what I found out.”

For just a second, he looked like he wanted to kill me. Had I pushed him too far? I knew Winnie was the one subject Nate was most sensitive about, but I had to know if he’d made the same connection with Charlie’s DUI arrest that Sandy had.

“Come on,” he said gruffly. I followed him through the kitchen and toward the back door.

“Nate, where are you going? Nobody’s working the counter,” a young woman with flowing brown hair said.

“You take it. I won’t be long.”

She looked flustered. “I just started. I don’t even know how to work the cash register yet. You were supposed to show me this morning, remember?”

“Ashley, I don’t have time right now. You’ll be fine.”

The poor girl looked as though she wanted to cry, but Nate just blew past her. He pointed to the table in back of the restaurant and said, “Sit.”

I did as he asked, commanded, really, and realized I’d have to watch my step. Nate seemed to be one nudge from going over the edge, and I didn’t know how to keep from supplying that last shove. The outside air was chilly, but it was the frost in Nate’s manner more than the temperature that made me wrap my coat closer around my body.

“I’ll make this as simple and painless as I can,” I said. “Did you know that Charlie Cobb had a DUI on his record?”

“He came in here to sober up after a few of his drinking binges a long time ago, so it doesn’t surprise me. Why should I care?”