Eggs Benedict Arnold (15 page)

Sidling over to his table, carrying a pot of coffee, Su
zanne said,
“
Morning, Earl. How
’
s breakfast?
”

Earl grinned up at her with his narrow face, receding
hairline, and a speck of spinach caught between his front teeth.
“
Tasty,
”
he told her.
“
Best spinach and feta cheese omelet in town.
”

“
Well, I coulda told you that,
”
said Suzanne. Pouring
out a slow stream of coffee into his cup, she added,
“
I un
derstand you moved back here to sell insurance.
”

Earl
’
s head bobbed like it was spring-loaded.
“
For Uni
versal Allied Home and Life. Most people are unawares, but insurance is the most important financial instrument a person can have.
”
He paused, then gave a questioning
squint.
“
You got enough insurance, Suzanne? Business in
surance, I mean. For the Cackleberry Club?
”

“
We
’
re pretty well set,
”
she told him, hoping to avoid the inevitable sales pitch.

“
I could offer a free analysis,
”
said Earl.
“
You might find a
need to up your coverage.
”
He glanced around.
“
Place looks
fairly profitable, but if something were to happen ...
”
Now Earl looked serious, like he
’
d peered into the not-so-distant future and seen an unhappy vision looming before him.

“
I
’
m not losing any sleep, Earl,
”
Suzanne told him.

“
Got flood insurance?
”
he asked.
“
What if there
’
s a flood?
”

Catawba Creek, a babbling little trout stream that hadn
’
t flooded its banks even once in the last century, was at least
six miles away. Suzanne told him so.

Unfazed, Earl plowed on.
“
Hit by lightning?
”

Suzanne sighed.
“
I
’
ll take my chances.
”

“
Fire?
”
Earl glanced sideways out the window where workers were hoisting beams and pounding away at two-by-fours, busily rebuilding the Journey
’
s End Church.

“
Don
’
t even breathe that word in here!
”
warned Suzanne.
“
The Journey
’
s End Church fire was a trauma for everyone.
”

“
Suit yourself, Suzanne,
”
said Earl, taking a slurp of coffee.

“
I always do,
”
she replied.

“
I understand Missy
’
s got you nosing around town con
cerning Ozzie
’
s murder.
”
Now Earl gave her a hard stare.

“
Maybe,
”
said Suzanne, being a little evasive.

“
She thinks you
’
re quite the little Nancy Drew.
”
He let loose a mirthless chuckle.

“
Missy
’
s a friend,
”
said Suzanne.
“
I
’
d do anything to help her, especially after the rude treatment she
’
s received from Sheriff Doogie.
”

Earl cocked an index finger at Suzanne.
“
If you
’
re such a hotshot investigator, maybe you oughta take a look at George Draper.
”

“
Ozzie
’
s partner?
”
Suzanne
’
s brow furrowed.
“
I
’
d say you
’
re out of your mind.
”

“
The thing of it is,
”
said Earl, glancing around and low
ering his voice,
“
I sold Driesden and Draper an insurance policy a few months ago.
”

“
So what?
”
replied Suzanne.
“
You
’
ve probably been
offering free analyses to everyone and his brother-in-law.
They just happened to take the bait.
”

“
It was key person insurance,
”
said Earl, enunciating each word carefully.

Suzanne stared at him, wondering where Earl was going
with this.
“
Meaning?
”
She tapped her foot impatiently.

“
Meaning,
”
said Earl,
“
that if one partner
died
, the other
would receive a rat
he
r tidy sum of money.
”
He paused.
“
Enough to buy out the other
’
s interest and then some.
”

“
How tidy is that sum?
”
asked Suzanne.
“
Can you give me a number?
”

Now Earl looked aghast.
“
That would be unethical.
”

“
But it
’
s okay to point fingers,
”
Suzanne chided.
“
To toss out innuendos about your client.
”

Earl threw up both hands in a gesture of frustration.
“
I
’
m just saying, Suzanne.
”

Back in the kitchen, Suzanne said,
“
Earl Stensrud is a real slimeball.
”

Petra ducked down and peered out through the pass-through.
“
He
’
s out there?
”

“
Yes,
”
said Suzanne.
“
And, interestingly enough, he
’
s
trying to deflect any scrutiny that might be directed at him
onto George Draper. Call it the old pinball technique.
”

“
Scrutiny on Draper for Ozzie
’
s murder?
”
Petra couldn
’
t
quite believe it.

“
Earl assured me that George Draper was going to ben
efit greatly from an insurance policy he sold to Driesden and Draper,
”
said Suzanne.

“
Huh,
”
said Petra, pulling a tin of bubbling, golden brown Eggs in a Basket from the oven.
“
I didn
’
t think anyone ever benefited. Insurance companies are tighter
’
n razor clams.
”
She sprinkled on some additional shredded cheddar for good measure.
“
They just
hate
opening their pockets and paying out claims.
”

Toni came bustling in with a stack of dirty dishes.
“
I just
caught the tail end of your conversation and you
’
re right about insurance companies and insurance
salesmen
being tightwads.
Guess how much of a tip that moron Earl left me?
”

“
How much?
”
asked Suzanne. Earl Stensrud did strike
her as a parsimonious ass.

“
Fifty cents!
”
shrilled Toni.
“
Can you believe it? That comes to something like ... six percent!
”

“
Makes Junior look like Rockefeller,
”
mumbled Petra.

“
Doesn
’
t it?
”
answered Toni.

* * *

Just
before lunch there was a run on the Book Nook. Suzanne wasn
’
t sure if it was because of the Knit-In Thurs
day or Saturday
’
s Take the Cake event, but customers were
grabbing books on knitting, needlecraft, quilting, baking, and cake decorating like crazy. One book, written by two
women who called themselves the Knit Wits, was a humor
ous take on knitting. It illustrated simple stitches and fun projects as told through their own trial and error.

Suzanne was about to run across to the cafe to help set up for lunch when a yellow Post-it note stuck to the back wall caught her eye. It said
CHEESE
in block letters.

Slipping into the office, Suzanne thumbed through her Rolodex and dialed the number for Cloverdale Farm.

“
Mike,
”
she said, when she finally got him on the line.
“
We
’
re down to our last two wheels of cheese. Are you planning a delivery anytime soon?
”

“
Sure am,
”
he told her,
“
but it ain
’
t the kind you
’
re thinking of. I got two prime Guernseys ready to calve any
time now. And, wouldn
’
t you know it, this is the week Ruth
Ann picked to visit her sister in Sioux Falls.
”

“
What if I drove over to your place?
”
asked Suzanne.
She could hear a barnyard symphony of mooing, chewing,
and clip-clopping in the background.

“
That
’
d be fine, Suzanne,
”
replied Mike.
“
I got a cooler full of cheese, so ... you know where to find me.
”

“
I
’
m guessing in the barn?
”
said Suzanne. But he
’
d already hung up.

Then, just as Suzanne was scratching a note to herself, the phone rang. She snatched it up.
“
Hello?
”

“
Suzanne? It
’
s Missy.
”

“
Hi, honey, how are you?
”
Suzanne hated to ask if
Missy
had been burning the midnight oil last night. Because she
was pretty sure she had been, judging by the stress and
tiredness in her voice.

“
Hanging in there,
”
said Missy, sounding slightly bereft.
“
I was just wondering if you
’
d heard anything. Or done a little ... I don
’
t know what you
’
d call it... sleuthing?
”

“
Lots of rumors flying around,
”
said Suzanne,
“
but noth
ing concrete.
”
She sure as heck wasn
’
t going to tell Missy that Earl, her ex-husband and beau du jour, was casting aspersion on her former beau
’
s business partner. Suzanne shook her head. It was all very confusing.
“
I
’
ll keep my ears open though,
”
Suzanne promised.