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Authors: Chris Cavender

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Women Sleuths

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BOOK: A Slice of Murder
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Neither man said a word, making it pretty obvious that they’d come to a conclusion and weren’t about to budge from it unless they had real evidence to convince them otherwise.

“Can I leave now?” I asked. “I want to call Maddy to come and get me.”

“Officer Tanner can take you home,” Kevin said.

“I’m not going home. I promised my sister I’d meet her back at the Slice, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

Kevin said, “Listen, I understand this shook you up. You have every right to be upset, but don’t read more into it than there is, okay?”

I ignored him as I grabbed my purse, then turned to Officer Tanner. “Are you taking me, or do I have to walk?”

“I’ll be glad to take you, ma’am,” he said. Was that a fleeting grin he managed to suppress, or was it my imagination? No doubt he was unaccustomed to hearing anyone speak to his boss like that, but at the moment, I didn’t care. I just wanted to find someone who believed me, and I had a feeling it would be my sister.

There was no talking in the squad car as Officer Tanner drove me to the Slice, but I did break the silence to thank him for the ride once we arrived.

“All part of the service, ma’am,” he said. He hesitated, then added, “Don’t be too hard on the chief. He’s got a tough job.” The officer then tipped his hat to me and drove off.

Maddy must have seen the cruiser pull up, because she was outside on the sidewalk with me before I had a chance to even get to the front door.

“Are you all right? Where’s your Subaru? Was Kevin hurt?” She said all this while locking me in a bear hug.

“I’m fine,” I said. “I can’t say the same for the Subaru. Somebody shot out the driver’s-side window. If I hadn’t bent forward to grab my fallen purse, it could have easily hit me instead.”

“How about Kevin?”

“He’s okay,” I said, “besides being utterly delusional. He thinks this was a random attempt to rob me, no matter how much I tried to convince him that it had something to do with Richard Olsen’s murder.”

Maddy bit her lip, and when she didn’t say anything, I said, “Are you saying you think this is unrelated, too? Are you kidding me? You’re my sister; you should at least take my side in this.”

“Take it easy, Eleanor. We’ve talked about how lucky we’ve been not to be robbed,” she said. “You know as well as I do that we’re overdue, don’t you think? All I’m saying is that we have to consider all the possibilities.”

“I was the one who was just shot at,” I said. “And I know it wasn’t a robbery attempt.”

“You’re right. I’m so sorry. Let me get my purse and I’ll take you home.”

She ducked back inside the pizzeria, and I collapsed onto a bench while I waited. I knew it was possible that the gunshot hadn’t been related to the murder, but I couldn’t make myself believe that it was true. I’d uncovered something in my search for the killer so far, something that had made them uncomfortable about what I knew. I just wished I realized what that might be. I’d already talked to a couple of the people on my list, and if they had spread the word around town that Maddy and I were trying to solve the murder ourselves, it could have gotten back to the killer even if I hadn’t confronted them directly. So where did that leave me? Was it in my best interests to act as though tonight was nothing more than a random act of violence, or should I treat it as a warning to stop meddling? As much as a part of me wanted to pull back and let Kevin figure out what had happened, that gunshot had just increased my determination to figure out who had killed Richard Olsen.

Whoever had taken that shot clearly hadn’t counted on my cussed determination, or they never would have chambered the round.

Chapter 9

“W
e need to talk about this, Eleanor,” Maddy said as we approached my house. “You should know that I believe you.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I am not. I’ve had some time to think about it,” Maddy said. “If you say somebody tried to kill you tonight, then I believe you. You’re right—I wasn’t there. I can’t even begin to imagine how violated you must feel. The question is, where do we go from here?”

I studied her under the passing streetlights. “Do you honestly mean that?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t take your side from the start. Besides, it’s not productive thinking what happened tonight was random or a robbery attempt. If it was, the police will find who did it. But if it was tied to the killing, then we both need to be more careful.”

“Odd, I was just thinking the opposite. Now that most of Timber Ridge knows we’re trying to solve this murder, I say we pull out all the stops and start asking some really hard questions. It’s time to make some people squirm.”

“What’s gotten into you?” Maddy asked as she pulled into my driveway. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before.”

“It could be because no one’s taken a potshot at me until tonight,” I said. “I’m more determined than ever to figure out what’s going on.”

“Would you like to work on it some more tonight? I’m not the least bit sleepy, and I can’t imagine you shutting your eyes for hours, after what happened. So why don’t we put the time to productive use and see if we can come up with a game plan?”

“If you’re sure,” I said. “I hate to drag you away from your personal life.”

“Eleanor, we both know I haven’t had a personal life in ages.”

“It’s not from a lack of opportunities,” I said. “I happen to know a particular attorney who would love to spend more time with you.”

As we got out of the car, she said, “Really? Do you truly want to start discussing each other’s love life? Let’s just forget all that and use our time a little more productively, shall we?”

“Sorry, I’ll stay on task,” I said as we approached my front porch. Joe had installed a motion-detecting light when we’d first started rehabbing the place. I’d argued with him about its appropriateness for our bungalow, but he’d insisted we needed it for safety purposes, and tonight, I was glad that was one argument I’d lost.

As the light came on, I dug out my key, and Maddy and I went inside. It was time to see if we could regain control of a situation that had gotten suddenly out of hand.

Home was a haven for me, a place to get away from the world. With so many reminders of Joe everywhere I looked, I hated tainting my emotions about the place with talk of murder and motives, but I really had no choice. It had crept into my life, had placed a chokehold on my livelihood, and was becoming a real threat to me personally.

“How about something to drink before we get started?” Maddy asked.

“Let’s see, I might have some red wine left.” I had an unopened bottle of whiskey, but I was never going to break the wax seal. My late husband had been a huge fan of Maker’s Mark whiskey, and I’d kept a bottle on hand, more out of sentimentality than anything else.

“I was thinking more along the lines of hot chocolate, but if you’d like something stronger, I’d be glad to run out to the liquor store for you.”

“Hot chocolate would be great,” I said. As I got out my own blend, personalized to my tastes with an equal portion of dark and milk chocolates, I said, “While I’m heating the milk, why don’t you get a pad out of the kitchen desk and we can start a new list.”

“I can do that,” she said. “We’ve got quite a bit more information now, don’t we?”

“With not much to back it up,” I said.

“Come on, we’ll figure this out.”

“Yeah, there’s nothing like the clarity a gunshot brings, is there?”

Maddy ignored the comment and drew a grid on the paper. “At least we have some names to go with our theories.”

The milk began to heat through, and I took it off the stove and poured some into two mugs, already awaiting it with the chocolate in the bottom. As I stirred them, I asked, “Would you like marshmallows?”

“No, I’m a purist. You know that.”

“Tastes change,” I said as I put a dollop of whipped marshmallow on top of my steaming mug.

“Not that much,” Maddy said. She took a sip, then smiled. “You’ve got a knack for hot chocolate, Eleanor.”

“Maybe we should put it on the menu,” I said, joking.

“It might not be a bad idea.”

“I don’t think it goes with pizza, do you?”

Maddy shrugged. “Well, I never thought pineapple would, either, but people order it all the time.”

“Granted, but that’s an aberration, in my mind.”

She took another sip, then said, “But you don’t mind selling them, do you?”

I smiled at her. “Taste is one thing; profit is another one entirely.” I tapped the paper. “Let’s see what you’ve got so far.”

She spun the tablet around, and I saw four separate columns headed Name, Motive, Means, and Opportunity across the top. She’d started by listing our suspects’ names, beginning with Faith Baron, followed by Steve Baron and Travis White.

“Who else should we add?” Maddy asked.

“Hand me your pen,” I said.

I took it, then wrote down “Sheila Olsen.” I looked up at the sound of Maddy’s cough.

“Come on, do you really think she killed her own brother?”

“I think she had a hundred thousand reasons to,” I said.

“She didn’t know she was inheriting that kind of money,” Maddy protested.

“We just have her word for that, though, don’t we?”

Maddy frowned. “I don’t know.”

“This isn’t a grand jury indictment. We’re looking at possible suspects. No one’s going to see this list but the two of us.”

Maddy nodded, though I could tell it was rather reluctant.

I put Penny Olsen on the list, though I could tell my sister wasn’t pleased with that addition, either.

“She deserves to be there, at least until we can eliminate her as a suspect.”

“If that’s the case, we should put your name on there, too. You’re a likely culprit as well,” Maddy said.

“You know, you’re not always as funny as you think you are.”

“Really? Because honestly, I think I’m hilarious.”

“That makes one of us,” I said, trying to hide my smile as I studied the list again. “Hey, what was Richard’s boss’s name? Do you remember?”

“It was Carl Wilson. Why, do you think he could have done it?”

“From the e-mail we’ve got, it looks like he had every reason to be angry with Richard, and that’s an important part of the three things we’re looking for.”

“But did he have the means and the opportunity?” Maddy asked.

“They all did, as far as I can tell. The knife was from Richard’s kitchen, so that takes care of the means. We can ask them all for alibis, but I’m not sure we’ll get any answers. There’s no rational reason anybody on this list will tell us anything.” I was suddenly feeling tired and defeated, my earlier anger gone.

Maddy put down her mug. “That shouldn’t keep us from asking, though. What’s gotten into you, Eleanor?”

“Honestly, it’s just starting to sink in how close I came to dying. I’m tired, my nerves are shot, and I’m going through a jumble of emotions,” I said. “It’s a lot to deal with.”

“We can go to bed and finish this in the morning,” Maddy said softly.

“No, we need to focus on it right now. Is there anyone we’re leaving off the list? Hang on a second.” I wrote in “Mystery Blackmail Victim.”

“That kind of leaves something to be desired, doesn’t it? How in the world are we going to track them down?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, just as I heard the front doorbell ring.

“Who could it be this time of night?” Maddy asked.

“I don’t know.” I grabbed Joe’s shotgun from the cabinet, checked to make sure it was loaded, then said, “But I’m about to find out.”

“Should you be pointing that thing at anybody?”

“My husband made sure I knew how to use it, Maddy. He tried to teach you, too, remember?”

She shuddered. “Guns make me nervous.”

“Really? Getting shot at does it for me.”

We approached the door together, but instead of opening it, I called out, “Who is it?”

“Police,” a muffled voice said.

Maddy reached for the deadbolt, but I put my hand on hers to stop her. “Hang on a second,” I whispered to her.

“What’s your name and badge number?” I asked.

“Would you open the door? I want to talk to you.” Almost as an afterthought, he said, “It’s Kevin Hurley, and my badge number is double-oh six.”

As I opened the door, Maddy asked him, “What’s the matter, not good enough to be double-oh seven?”

“Truthfully, I wanted to avoid that kind of joke,” he said as he eyed my shotgun, absently pointed in his direction. “Do you mind lowering that thing? The safety’s off. Did you realize that?”

“How would I be able to defend myself and shoot somebody if it was on?” I asked as I did as he’d requested. “What brings you out here at this time of night?”

“Believe it or not, I wanted to see if you were okay. Do you need anything?”

I shrugged. “If you could catch Richard Olsen’s murderer, I’d consider it a personal favor.”

“The wheels are turning,” he said as he nodded curtly.

“More like spinning in the mud,” Maddy retorted.

Kevin shook his head. “Legal procedures and investigations take time.”

“I’m not sure how much of that we’ve got,” I said.

Kevin scowled at me. “You two aren’t going to do anything stupid, are you?”

Maddy grinned. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

“I’m talking about digging into this case, and you know it.”

I said, “We appreciate your concern, but we’re both fine. Thanks for stopping in, Chief.”

“So it’s ‘Chief’ now and not Kevin. When did that happen?”

“When you stopped believing me,” I said. “Good night.”

He stared at me, obviously thinking about how to respond to that, but instead of commenting, he turned and left, leaving the front door wide open behind him.

“That went well,” Maddy said.

I laughed, despite the dire situation.

As I put the shotgun back, Maddy asked, “If it had been a bad guy, could you really have shot him?”

“Without hesitation,” I replied. “Joe always told me never to point it at someone unless I was willing to use it, and it’s a lesson I learned well.”

“I couldn’t do it,” Maddy said with a slight shudder.

“Let’s just hope I never have to,” I said. “Now, on to brighter topics. We’ve got our list. What do we do next?”

“We’ve talked to Faith. I think it’s time we spoke with her husband.”

“Maddy, we can’t break up a marriage just because we’re digging into this. It’s just not right.”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to be subtle about it,” she said. One glance at my expression made her add, “I can be as stealthy as the next woman. I can.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” I said.

“Then you’re in for a treat first thing tomorrow morning. While his not-so-devoted wife is out for her daily run, I think we should drop in and talk to Steve Baron.”

“And Carl Wilson, too,” I said. “We need to speak with him face-to-face, to see his reaction to our questions.”

“I don’t know. Do you think we’ll be able to get it all done by nine? That’s a tall order.”

“We’ll use the frozen crusts if we have to,” I said. “That gives us until noon to snoop around.”

“I thought you hated those things,” Maddy said.

“I do, but I hate what’s been happening around here far more. My customers will understand. Those crusts are pretty good, anyway.”

“If they’re that good, why don’t you use them all the time?”

“I guess I like the feel of kneading the dough with my hands,” I admitted. “But it’s something I’m willing to forgo, at least for now.”

“Wow, you really are serious about this,” Maddy said.

“As serious as I can be,” I said as I stifled a yawn. “I know it’s just the shank of the evening for you, but it’s past my bedtime. Feel free to stay up, make some popcorn, and watch a movie, but I’m going to bed.”

“Ever the gracious hostess, Eleanor,” she said.

“Come on, you know where the clean sheets and towels are, there’s a new toothbrush I haven’t gotten around to opening yet in the bathroom, and I’ll leave a spare pair of pajamas on the bed. Good night.”

“Night. And, Eleanor, I really do believe you about the shooter tonight. You should know that I’ve always got your back.”

“Thanks, I’ve got yours, too.”

 

When I woke up the next morning, Maddy was still asleep. I could afford to give her another twenty minutes while I made us both breakfast. It wasn’t as fancy as the waffles she’d fed me recently, but my pancakes were still pretty good. As I waited for the griddle to heat up after mixing the batter, I dug into my purse and got out Bob Pickering’s telephone number. He didn’t officially open until eight, but I knew he was always there by seven, so I decided to schedule my car appointment early.

“Hey, Bob, it’s Eleanor Swift.”

“Hi yourself, Eleanor.” He paused, then said, “There’s nothing wrong with that window, is there? Sometimes those tracks are tricky. If it won’t roll down, bring it by and I’ll have another go at it.”

“That’s not it.” I took a deep breath, then said, “I need a new one.”

“Now just you hang on there a second, Eleanor. I said I could fix it, and I meant it. It won’t take me ten minutes, and you don’t even have to come by the shop. I’ll swing by your place and have it done in a heartbeat.”

“There’s nothing to adjust,” I said. “The window shattered into a thousand little pieces.”

“It fell out? You’re kidding me. I don’t see how that could happen.”

“That’s because it didn’t,” I said as I saw the preheat light go off on the griddle. I cradled the telephone between my chin and my shoulder, then poured some batter rounds onto the matted black Teflon surface. “Somebody took a shot at me last night.”

“Are you okay? What’s gotten into this town?”

“I’m fine, and so is Chief Hurley.”

“What’s he got to do with this? You two weren’t out dallying around, were you?”

BOOK: A Slice of Murder
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