A Healthy Homicide (12 page)

 

I stood my ground and waited for Detective Palmer to get closer, wondering if there was anything I could say to keep him from hauling Gretchen away in handcuffs. When he was within earshot, I called out, “Detective Palmer, isn’t it great how Gretchen decided to help you guys with your investigation?”

I heard a sigh escape his lips as he reached me. He crossed his arms over his navy blue polo shirt. “Exactly what do you know about it?”

“I know she told you how she overheard two people arguing in the Pampered Life right before Carla was murdered.”

His frown deepened. “You knew this before I did?”

I stood there under his unrelenting gaze. The sun felt much warmer all of a sudden. In my efforts to help Gretchen, I might have landed in water hotter than the farm’s Jacuzzi. “The minute Gretchen told me what she’d heard, I insisted she contact you,” I assured him.

“Good. I’m sure you know better than to keep information from the police.”

“Absolutely.” I glanced back inside the tent, but Gretchen was nowhere in sight. She must have taken her client to one of the sections in the back. Still, I lowered my voice. “You’re not here to arrest her, are you?”

Detective Palmer’s eyes locked on mine. “What makes you think that?”

I shifted my weight. “Why else would you be here?”

“That’s police business.”

“Do you have any solid suspects at least?”

“We’re exploring several avenues.”

I’d noticed a long time ago that the detective had a knack for never actually answering my questions. Today was no exception. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got the situation well in hand.” I smiled.

He didn’t smile back. “Is Gretchen in the spa right now?”

“Yes, but she’s with a client.”

“I’m sure she understands that a homicide investigation comes before her customers.”

I held up my hands. “Of course. Only, I was thinking about the gossip that would start if people find out you were visiting her at work.”

“I’ll be discreet. Now excuse me.”

He moved past me into the tent. I was tempted to follow him, but I knew he’d order me right back outside. Besides, he’d implied that he wasn’t here to arrest Gretchen, and even if he was, there wasn’t anything I could do to stop him, as much as I’d like to think I could.

With no work to keep me outside, I returned to the house. As I crossed the patio area, I could see a few people still eating breakfast in the dining room. Zennia was in the kitchen, sprinkling minced chives on a pile of scrambled eggs. A fresh pile of facon waited on paper towels on the counter. I almost snagged one of the salty brown strips, but then I remembered it was a processed vegetable product and left it on the counter.

“Need me to serve?” I asked.

Zennia wiped some egg bits off the plate’s rim. “That’s all right. I’m working on my last two orders right now.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the office if you need me.” As I passed the doorway to the dining room, I could hear people talking while they ate their eggs and facon. I wondered if they knew what they were really eating.

In the office Gordon was hunched over the printer. As I watched, he pressed several buttons on the control panel and then slapped the top of the printer.

“Printer acting up again?” I asked from the doorway. “It kept jamming on me last week.”

He whirled around and scowled. “The stupid thing keeps telling me it’s out of cyan. I’m trying to print an inventory list in regular black ink, but it won’t let me.”

I stepped into the room and pulled open the supply drawer. “I’m guessing we don’t have a new cyan cartridge?”

“No. I forgot to order a replacement when I installed the last one.” He checked his watch. “Look, I hate to ask, but could you run to town and get a new one? One of our suppliers is coming out any minute to discuss pricing, and I can’t leave. You’d be doing me a huge favor. I’d owe you one.”

Gordon had to be in dire straits if he was practically begging for my help. “I have time.”

“Thank you.” He walked out of the office, while I grabbed my keys and removed some money from the petty cash container. Before I stepped into the hall, I texted Jason to let him know I was running into town on an errand and to ask if he wanted to meet up for a quick cup of coffee.

Without waiting for his reply, I walked to my car and drove into town. At the supply store, I had a moment of panic when I saw an empty space on the shelf where my printer cartridge should have been. After some frantic searching behind all the other colors, I found a single remaining box. Who knew cyan was so popular?

My phone chimed as I was leaving the store. Jason was finishing an interview with Patricia at her new craft store. With the store only a couple of blocks away, I texted him back and asked him to wait. I quickened my steps.

When I got to Main Street, I turned the corner and made my way up the block past the Breaking Bread Diner. On the other side of the street, I could see Jason standing outside the vacant store, chatting with Patricia. I cut across to join them. Jason gave me a peck on the cheek under Patricia’s watchful gaze.

She opened her mouth, as if to ask about our relationship, but I spoke before she could. “How is your shop coming along?” I asked.

“I have a contractor scheduled to come in. He and his crew need to make some repairs before he starts installing a counter and putting in shelves. Of course, I still need to order inventory. Plus, there’s plenty to set up, but with any luck, I’ll be open within a month.”

Jason turned to me. “Plenty of residents will want to hear about the new store, so I decided to cover it in the paper now. I’ll do a follow-up article for the grand opening.”

I thought about Mom’s continual quilting and sewing projects. “My mom will probably be first in line.”

“I know a few ladies who might knock her out of the way to get here first,” Jason said.

Patricia put a hand to her chest. “I can only dream my store will be so popular.” The words sounded humble, but her superior smile and upturned chin made me think she was quite confident her place would be a success.

The roar of an engine interrupted our conversation. Patricia’s gaze settled on something over my shoulder, and her smile disappeared. I turned in time to see Ricky speed past in his muscle car.

“There goes trouble,” Patricia said.

Jason gave her a questioning look, and I realized that he didn’t know who had driven by. While we’d talked about Ricky, Jason had never seen him. When he arrived at Carla’s memorial service, Ricky had already left.

“That was Ricky, Erin’s boyfriend,” I told him. “The one Carla didn’t approve of.”

Jason jerked open his notebook. “That’s Erin’s boyfriend?” He flipped through the pages rapidly, moving toward the front of the notebook. He stopped on a page and ran his finger down the paper. “He’s Richard Donovan.”

“Ricky is probably short for Richard. Did you do a story about him?” I said.

Jason looked up at me. He still held his finger to the name. “You don’t understand. He’s the guy who got in the car accident last week.” He took two swift steps in the direction Ricky had driven, as if hoping to catch up to him.

“And?” I asked, prodding. I had no idea what had Jason so wound up.

He spun around. “The accident happened here on Main. He was only a block away from the spa the night Carla was murdered.”

 

I gawked at Jason as his words sank in. Ricky was downtown when Carla died. Had he gotten in the accident as he was speeding away from the crime scene? Had he killed Carla?

Beside me, Patricia spoke up, as if reading my mind. “I thought he could be the killer. I’m not surprised one bit.”

“What do you know about him?” I asked. It was clear Patricia didn’t like the guy, but I was curious to know exactly why.

“Carla told me plenty.” She glared down the street, as if Ricky might feel her disapproval from here. “All about how poor his family is and how he hangs out with hoodlums all day. She knew Erin could do better—a lot better—and hated to see her settle for someone with so little.”

“Being poor isn’t a crime,” I said, bristling at the statement.

“Has he ever been arrested?” Jason asked.

Pink tinged Patricia’s cheeks. “Well, not that I know of, but he could have done plenty that no one’s heard about. I’ve hardly talked to the boy, except once or twice, when I was visiting Carla and he was picking up Erin.”

“How did he act around you?” I asked.

“Polite as can be, although I wouldn’t expect anything else. You know how criminals can be such smooth talkers when they need to be. But he’s a bad apple. You can tell.”

What I could tell was that Patricia was a snob. Still, I couldn’t ignore the fact that Ricky was near Carla’s spa around the time of the murder. That was an awfully big coincidence.

Jason stuffed his notebook in his pocket. “I need to get back to the office.”

“And I should head to the farm,” I said.

Patricia held out her hand to Jason, and he took it. “Thank you so much for interviewing me,” she gushed. “If this place is a success, I know who to thank.” She nodded to me. “Be sure to tell your mom that I’ll be open soon.” With a wave over her shoulder, she went inside the store.

“She’s something else,” I said when she was out of earshot.

“Yeah, I’m just not sure what,” Jason said. “I’ll have to take a rain check on that coffee, but at least let me walk you to your car.”

My eyebrows shot up. I knew he couldn’t wait to get back to the office and follow up on this latest information. “I’m parked a couple of blocks from here. I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

“That’s okay. I need to tell you what I learned.”

Intrigued, I waited for a break in traffic and crossed the street. Jason fell into step beside me. When we reached the curb on the other side, he started talking.

“I didn’t want to say anything in front of Patricia, but Richard—I mean Ricky—might not have been alone in that car the night of the accident.”

I stopped and looked at him. “Who was he with?”

“I never found out. Witnesses to the accident mentioned a girl running from the scene, but no one got a good look at her. Ricky swore to the cops that he was alone.”

“Do you think it was Erin? She could have skipped class that night and gone out with Ricky. If she was in the car at the time of the accident, that would mean she was also near the spa when her aunt was murdered. Maybe she’s the one who killed her, and then she panicked and called Ricky to pick her up.”

“It’s entirely possible. Before I knew about Carla’s murder, I assumed Ricky had an underage, drunk girl in his car or another situation that would cause him trouble. But your suggestion makes a lot of sense.”

I started walking again, mentally running through the scenarios. “The problem is that Gretchen heard Carla arguing with a man right before she was killed. That would put Ricky at the scene, not Erin.”

“Is Gretchen sure it was Carla who was arguing?”

My thoughts sped up, and my feet hurried along with them. “I don’t see how she could be positive. She’d never met Carla, so she wouldn’t recognize her voice. Maybe she overheard Ricky and Erin, which means Gretchen might have gotten there right
after
Carla was killed, not before. Of course, this is all guesswork on our part, but it makes you realize how little we know. Let’s hope the cops are having better luck.”

Jason skirted a fire hydrant. “Just in case, I’ll pass this information along to Detective Palmer.”

“Do me a favor and bring up my name when you talk to him. It never hurts to stay on the good side of a police detective.” Especially after he thought I had withheld information about Gretchen. Maybe this would convince Detective Palmer that I wanted only to help.

Jason put his arm around my waist and pulled me close. “Well, you’re always on
my
good side. In fact, you can be on any side of me you want.”

My face suddenly felt so hot that I almost started fanning it. Jason always had that effect on me.

I heard a store bell jingle nearby and then my name called. I stepped back from Jason and turned around. Mom stood in the doorway of the Going Back for Seconds clothing store. I’d been so wrapped up in talking to Jason that I hadn’t even noticed we’d passed it.

“Hi, you two,” she said. “Dana, I thought I saw you walk by the other way a few minutes ago, but I was helping a customer and you seemed to be in a hurry.”

“Hi, Mom. I didn’t realize you were working this morning.”

“That’s because you never call me.” She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead in the style of a theatrical Southern belle. “Now that she’s moved into her new place, it’s like she’s forgotten all about her poor mother,” she told Jason. I felt my face redden and opened my mouth to protest, but before I could say anything, Mom started laughing. “I’m only teasing. You’ve always been a wonderful and conscientious daughter, although I am curious why you’re not at work right now.”

I held up my bag. “I needed printer ink, and Jason happened to be covering the new craft store that’s opening soon.”

Mom looked up the street, toward Patricia’s store. “Sue Ellen mentioned that a craft store was going in where the wine bar closed. I can’t wait.”

A woman walked toward us, heading to the entrance of the store. We all shuffled to the side to make room, and she squeezed past us and through the door.

“I should see if she needs any help,” Mom said. “Say, Dana, why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? You too, Jason. I’m making chicken.”

I wasn’t surprised in the least. She cooked chicken at least four times a week, sometimes more. When I lived at home, I’d started to hate the smell of roasted chicken. Now I thought about all the processed foods I’d been eating the past few weeks. A home-cooked chicken dinner sounded downright delicious.

“I’d love to,” I said.

Mom beamed.

“I’m afraid I have other plans,” Jason said, “but thank you for the invitation.”

“Another time, then.” Mom turned to me. “See you tonight.” She went back inside the store, the bell jingling after her.

Jason and I resumed walking. We turned at the corner, getting close to where my car was parked.

“Gee, what are these other plans you have tonight? Not a date, I hope.” I smiled to let Jason know I was teasing.

“I limit my dating to hot girls who work at organic farms.” He winked at me. “I’m getting together with one of my buddies. We’ll probably drink beer and watch ESPN.”

“You’ll have a blast.” Sitcoms and the occasional singing competition were more my style, but to each his own. We reached my car, and I unlocked the door.

“The only thing missing will be you.” He gave me a kiss that made me all woozy inside. “I’ll call you later.” He headed back the way we’d come, no doubt in a hurry to start working on his article.

I drove back to the farm and found several cars parked in the lot, although the lobby was empty when I entered. Even Gordon wasn’t at his customary post. I went into the office, replaced the ink cartridge, and then opened a marketing file I wanted to update.

Esther came into the office while I was working and sat down in the guest chair next to the bookcase. I took my hands off the keyboard and swiveled around to face her. “Hi, Esther. How’s your day been going?”

“It’s right as rain now that I’ve finished talking to Gretchen.” She plucked at a button on her denim blouse. “You know how much I like her, and she had me awfully worried when I last spoke to her. Now everything seems okay, thank heavens.”

I didn’t know how much Gretchen had told Esther, and I certainly didn’t want to share any troubles she might want to keep private, so I merely nodded. “Yes, she’s back to her old self.”

Esther leaned forward and patted my knee. “And how is your job going?”

“Fine. I’m working on a new brochure to highlight Zennia’s cuisine. I’ve added plenty of photos of the vegetable and herb gardens. Would you like to see it?” I turned around, grabbed the sheet I’d been marking up, and gave it to Esther.

She looked it over, her head bobbing up and down in silent agreement. She handed it back. “Such pretty pictures. Between this and the other spa brochures you’ve created, we should see a whole slew of new customers.”

“Let’s not forget your composting class. That’s sure to bring in more people. Which reminds me, are you ready to discuss the details?”

“I guess we could do that.” Esther fiddled with one of her buttons again and glanced at the office wall, her gaze lingering on the photos of the farm back when she and her husband used to raise crops, long before she’d turned it into a bed-and-breakfast. “I only hope people are interested in what I have to say.”

“Esther, you’re an expert. You were composting before composting became popular. Anyone who attends the class will hang on your every word.” I turned toward the computer and brought up a blank Word document. “Let’s make a list of everything you might talk about.”

Esther straightened up in her chair. “Well, I imagine most folks who come to my class will be beginners, so first I could talk about the benefits of composting, like how compost can add a host of nutrients to the soil and help plants thrive.”

“Perfect. Love it,” I said as I typed. “I know very little about composting, so one thing I’ve always wondered is where you even start a compost pile.”

“Most people can find a nice spot in their yard that’s out of the way, or they can build their own bin or buy one. It’s easy as pie.”

I typed up the information. “Good. What else will you talk about?”

“They’ll need to know what they can compost. I add most any table scraps to the pile, although I leave out the meat and bones. They attract all sorts of pests you don’t want. But any leftover fruits and vegetables are good, plus pastas or breads, even coffee grounds and used filters. All those break down real easy.”

“Don’t I see you putting your rose clippings and other trimmings on the pile sometimes?” I asked while I typed.

“I throw in all my yard waste. You need a good mix of dried matter, like twigs and dead leaves, and wet material, like food scraps and grass clippings. The combo helps break everything down to make nice compost.”

I smiled at her. “See? I knew you were an expert.”

She blushed and waved her hand. “Oh, stop.”

We spent a few minutes discussing other topics she could cover. After reviewing several key points, I had all the information I needed to draft an ad.

“I think we’ve got everything,” I said.

Esther stood and straightened her shirt. “You know, this might be kind of fun. Think I’ll go tell Zennia about it.” She toddled out of the room.

I returned to the computer and got started on the ad. Between working on the file, helping Zennia with lunch, and arguing with Gordon over how large an advertising budget we needed for the farm, the afternoon whizzed by. At five o’clock sharp, I updated my time card and gathered my belongings. It was time for dinner at Mom’s house.

And after that, I could give more thought to why Ricky had been so close to the Pampered Life the night Carla was killed. And to the identity of the mystery girl who had been in his car. Whoever she was, I wanted to know exactly what she was running from.