Gluten for Punishment (20 page)

CHAPTER
27

S
herry Williams came into the store early Monday morning. “I put a hold on the ghost
walk tour brochure.” She was breathless. Her stilettos tapped hurriedly across the
black-and-white tiles of the shop.

“Why?”

“To add the bank drive-thru where Ed died, of course.” She reached the counter, dressed
in an aqua sheath dress with matching coat. A scarf was artfully tied around her neck,
its complementary colors creating a Miss America feel. “I’ll take a large Sumatra,”
she ordered. I handed her a wide coffee cup and saucer.

“Anything to eat with that?”

“Dear me, no, we still have goodies at the chamber from the memorial on Friday.” She
clicked her way over to the coffee bar and poured coffee into her cup, added a splash
of nonfat milk, stirred, and took a long sip. “Oh, my, that’s good.”

“Thank you. Listen, maybe you should hold off on the ghost tours for a few weeks,”
I suggested.

“Why ever would we want to do that? Halloween is the perfect time to start them.”

I leaned against the glass counter. “I don’t disagree.” I rested my chin in my palm
and tried to come up with an argument Sherry would appreciate. “But until the killer
is caught, we can’t be sure the brochure will list all the proper places.”

Sherry frowned and clipped her way back to the counter. “I don’t understand.” Her
perfect hair was sprayed within an inch of its life. It probably would have withstood
a tornado. The color sparkled in the morning light coming from the front windows.

“What if the killer isn’t done killing?” I suggested. “You can’t keep reprinting brochures.”

“Oh my goodness.” She clutched her throat with her free hand. Her expression was horrified.
“You don’t think he or she will kill again?”

“There have been two killings now in a week. If it turns out it’s a serial killer,
then people could keep dropping until he or she’s caught.”

“Oh, my.” She narrowed her eyes and sipped from the giant coffee cup. “Oh, my. How
can we give an incomplete tour? Plus you know you get a better discount when you have
a larger print run.” Sherry shook her head. “Why, I could be stuck with hundreds of
incorrect brochures.”

I nodded, bit my lips, and raised my eyebrows a bit. “Think of all the trees you would
have killed and the money you would have spent, and for what? To only show half the
tour?”

“Darn it, you’re right.” Sherry placed the large coffee cup and saucer on the counter.
“I’ve got to rethink this. I’ll be in touch.” She wiggled her fingers in the air.
“Toodles!” She clipped her way out of the shop.

“Who was that?” Meghan walked in, tying an apron around her waist.

“Sherry Williams from the chamber of commerce. She’s setting up ghost tours for Oiltop.”

“Cool.”

“Not cool if people keep dying,” I pointed out. “Hopefully the chief will figure out
who did it before another spot ends up on the tour.”

“You’re no longer investigating?”

“I got Ed killed with my investigation. I almost got
us
killed.” I frowned. “I don’t want to be responsible for any more.”

“Too bad.” Meghan checked the coffee carafe and grabbed an empty one to refill. “I
thought you were doing a great job.”

“Ha! I thought Ed Bruner was the killer. How wrong was that?”

Meghan shrugged. “It was kind of cool to work for a caped crusader. I mean, you could
be Bat Woman and I could be Bat Girl.” She held two fingers up in a sideways
V
, one under her eyes and one over. “I always wanted to be part of a dynamic duo.”

I laughed. “You are silly. Now, when you’re done with the coffee, I’ve got an idea
for a seasonal muffin.”

“Great, I’ll be in back in a jiff.”

I walked into the kitchen, put on a fresh apron, and washed my hands. My thoughts
churned. Who benefited from killing George? I certainly didn’t. Ed did but now he
was gone. Todd didn’t really benefit, except maybe to extract revenge. Not that revenge
wasn’t a good enough motive, but it felt wrong. Todd was pretty adamant about not
being out of bed that early in the morning. There was Tasha’s idea of Mike Smith creating
news to sell papers, but then it could be him or Candy or Rocky. I ruled out Candy
and Rocky because they really had no reason to frame or threaten me. A thought struck
me and I froze. Sherry and the chamber benefited. In fact, she’d started this whole
ghost tour thing shortly after George had died, and was all hard-core happy about
Ed dying.

Still, I couldn’t imagine Miss Kansas, Sherry Williams, hitting grown men over the
head and killing them. No, her mode of murder would be more refined, like poison,
or convincing your ex-girlfriend to stab you in the back or even blowing up a rival
with a bomb in the crown . . . no wait, that was only done in a movie.

Okay
,
I thought as I dried my hands. Let’s keep Sherry as a person of interest. Who else?
I came up with bupkes, nothing, nada.

“What are we making?” Meghan came into the kitchen, tied on a fresh apron, and washed
her hands.

“Chocolate chip pumpkin muffins,” I said. “With coconut flakes.”

“Yum. I’ll get the dry ingredients.” Meghan pulled three bins off the shelf and mixed
the proper proportion of flours and starches. “You were here the morning Mr. Meister
died, right?”

“Yes.” I pureed pumpkin. Fresh was best because you couldn’t be certain the canned
pumpkin hadn’t been processed in a plant with wheat or nuts.

“Were you scared?” She brought the weighed ingredients over and poured them into a
big stainless mixer.

“No. I mean, I had no idea anyone was out there.” I added eggs and water and honey
to the pumpkin.

“But you said you heard something, right?”

“Yes, I heard what sounded like a bird hit the window.”

“And you looked out, right?” She placed the measured chocolate chunks and coconut
flakes on the counter. “You really didn’t see anything? I mean, the guy was murdered
a few feet from the door.”

I mixed the dry and wet ingredients while she leaned against the counter and watched
me intently. “No, it was dark. I didn’t see anything.” I paused. “Why the fifth degree?”

She shrugged and pulled out muffin pans and began to place paper liners in them. “I’m
worried about you.”

“You are?”

“Sure. If you saw anything you could be in real danger, like Mr. Bruner.” She glanced
my way. The sound of paper sliding against paper filled the air as she lined the tins.
“I’m not the only one who’s worried.”

“You’re not?”

“No.” She finished her task and put her hands on her hips. “Uncle Sam is worried,
too. He asked me to ask if you remembered seeing anything.”

“Well, you can tell him I didn’t. Seriously. If I did, I would have told the police.”
I folded in the final ingredients.

“Well, what if you remember something suddenly . . . like in the middle of the night
or something?”

“Then I’ll call the cops.” I scooped up quarter-cup measures of the dough and filled
the tins. “Trust me. I’m not going after a killer by myself. Now, let’s get to work.”

By the end of the afternoon, we had experimented with pumpkin muffins and cinnamon
apple muffins along with pumpkin cheesecake tarts and mini apple turnovers. The weather
outside was bright with a blue sky and a warmth that laughed at the colored leaves.
We cracked the bakery front door open and let the smells draw customers in.

Meghan was busy in the front and I was busy on my computer researching any links between
Ed and George. I wasn’t getting very far. Public records showed they had gone to school
together, but that was about it. Then again, they had gone to school with half the
people I knew, including Brad Ridgeway and Mike Smith. So that proved nothing. I could
get their addresses and even their credit scores if I paid money. Which I didn’t have.
None of this was getting me anywhere.

After the last threat, this was all feeling very personal—as if all this mayhem were
my fault. Now, I knew a rational person wouldn’t feel that way, but at that moment,
I wasn’t being rational. Men were dying. Even though I’d told Meghan I was done investigating,
I wasn’t. It was pretty clear I was caught up in Ed’s death somehow. I couldn’t let
it happen again. I was more determined than ever to figure out who was threatening
me and who had killed these men. Was it the same person?

Maybe if I made a list of everyone I had come in contact with since the day of the
grand opening. I decided to give it a whirl and was surprised at what I came up with.
Oiltop was a small town, but my list was pretty long.

If the killer were at the memorial, it was a much smaller list. I started a list of
memorial attendees with two columns. At the very top of the possible suspect column
was Sherry. And the ghost walk business gave her a motive. Then there was Alisa. I
put her in the innocent bystander column; she didn’t really seem the murdering type.
She was more peacemaker than head breaker. I continued down the list, adding Tasha’s
suspects to the left column. Even then, more people fell into the bystander column
than the suspect one. For kicks, I put Officer Emry’s name under Sherry’s. A girl
had to have some fun.

The phone rang and I jumped. I’d been lost in thought and forgotten where I was.

“Baker’s Treat, this is Toni, how can I help you?”

“Hi, kiddo.”

I sat back and relaxed. “Hi, Grandma, how are you?”

“I’m good. Listen, I was researching public records when I ran across something interesting.”

I perked up. “What?”

“Did you know Ed Bruner’s bank recently sold Tasha’s mortgage on the Welcome Inn?”

“What?” My stomach knotted up.

“Yep, he sold it to a holding group. To make money off the mortgage, the group is
changing the due dates to every two weeks or raising the interest rates, Tasha’s choice.”

“Wait, that’s not fair. Can they do that?” I sat up, all thoughts of the murder gone.
“Tasha didn’t say anything about that.”

“I bet she didn’t want you to worry. Anyway, she can try to refinance through another
bank or credit union before the end of the ninety days.”

“Incredible,” I muttered, at once worried for my friend and ticked off she hadn’t
said anything to me about something important in her life—again.

“Thought you should know.”

“Thanks, Grandma. Any news on the murder investigation?”

“I’m cross-checking everyone who attended the memorial. Don’t worry, kiddo, my sources
are at work.”

I ran a hand over my hair. “I can’t help but worry, Grandma. I need to know if Ed
died because of me.”

“Ed died because someone hit him upside the head with something heavy. You had nothing
to do with it. Don’t let those notes and threats get to you. You have a business to
grow and a friend to help. Got it?”

I sighed. “Got it.”

“Good. Besides, Bill and I are helping. We’ll get it all worked out.”

“I certainly hope so, Grandma. I certainly hope so.”

CHAPTER
28

I
left Meghan alone at the store and took a big box of muffins and cookies to the Welcome
Inn. “Hey, Susy, is Tasha around?”

Susy was a college student interning at the inn. The inn itself was another big old
Victorian brick mansion built by the railroad barons, and then had been added onto
by the oil barons. It had ten bedrooms and four floors. The ten-by-ten-foot foyer
was paneled in solid oak and smelled of lemon wood polish. It gleamed to perfection
in the light of the crystal chandelier. A Persian rug softened my footsteps.

Tasha had put an unobtrusive reception desk across from the sweeping oak staircase.
She was meticulous about design, and the desk appeared to be made of the same materials
as the paneling. In essence, it blended right in, except for Susy sitting behind it
in her neat gray-and-white suit. Her brown hair was pulled back in a soft but commanding
style.

“Tasha’s in her office,” Susy said. “Do you want me to let her know you’re here?”

“No, don’t bother. I’ll put the food in the parlor and go see her.” I walked through
the square double-door frame with pocket doors. The parlor was huge with a green-and-white
tiled fireplace, arts and crafts furniture, and three ceiling-to-floor windows, which
let in the afternoon light. There was a small buffet set up beside the fireplace and
in full view of the clusters of chairs and tables, meant to allow roomers to gather
in small groups or simply come down and feel as if they were in their own living room.

I arranged the cookies and muffins on the sideboard and made a beeline for Tasha’s
office. The house was arranged in a big square with small rooms and porches jetting
off of it. I went through the formal dining area to the kitchen and turned right to
the back den, which Tasha used for her office.

“Hey.” I walked in without knocking and settled into a green, microfiber, wingback
chair close to her desk. The den was also paneled halfway up the wall but Tasha had
painted the top portion a light, soothing sage and kept the curtains thin enough to
filter light. “I brought a couple dozen cookies and some seasonal muffins I’m trying
out.”

“Wonderful, thanks.” Tasha glanced up from her computer, sent me a distracted smile,
and then went back to her work.

“Anyway.” Might as well get to the real issue. “I thought we were best friends.”

Tasha didn’t even look away from her work. “We are.”

I curved my mouth briefly in a downward angle. “When did it become an I-tell-you-everything-while-you-keep-secrets-from-me
kind of friendship?” I drummed my fingers on the wooden ends of the chair arms.

“What?” She really looked up this time.

I leaned forward. “Grandma Ruth told me Ed Bruner’s bank sold your mortgage and now
you either have to refinance or you’ll get stuck with payments every two weeks or
a raise in interest.”

“Oh, damn.” She sat back, her blue eyes wide. Her mouth slightly opened and trembled.
Was that guilt in her eyes? “I suppose I should have told you.”

“Yes.” I nodded and raised my eyebrows. “You should have told me. It’s not like we
haven’t spent time together. What’s going on with you, anyway? First you keep Craig
from me and now you keep this. What else don’t I know about you? Are we even really
friends?” I was mad. Only yesterday afternoon she’d nosed her way through my entire
life. Payback is a bitch.

Tasha blew out a sharp breath and sat back. “With all the things going on in your
life, I didn’t want to give you more to worry about.” She bit her bottom lip and shook
her head once. “I’ve been scrambling to refinance. In fact, that’s what I was working
on when you came in.” She turned her monitor toward me. “See?” There were several
online forms for financial institutions.

“I’m not fragile, Tasha, and I might be able to help.”

“I know.” She turned her monitor back and folded her hands on top of her desk.

“Friendship has to work two ways or it’s not a friendship.”

“I know,” she muttered and studied the top of her desk. “It’s just Craig said—”

“Wait, what? You told Craig but you didn’t tell me?”

“I see Craig every day. He cares about me and Kip.”

I sat back astonished at her words. “And I don’t?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

I crossed my arms. “What did you mean?”

“I meant, Craig sees us more often. He doesn’t work as hard as you.”

Right. Tears welled up in my eyes. “I thought we were closer than sisters. Hell, you’re
closer to me than my own sisters. I can’t believe you’ve held out on me.”

“I’m sorry.” Tasha leaned forward and stretched out her hand. “That was wrong of me.”

I wasn’t ready to touch her yet, but I wanted to let her know I was not self-absorbed.
“How bad is the mortgage thing?”

She frowned. “Bad. I’d been working with Ed about refinancing through him, but he
turned me down. Something about the new mortgage lending laws.”

“Ed turned you down after selling you out? That rat bastard.”

“I’m not one to speak ill of the dead, but I kind of have to agree with you there.
He waited a full month before telling me. Meaning I now only have sixty days to figure
out what to do next.”

“Did you speak to a lawyer?”

“My lawyer said my contract specified Ed’s bank could sell the mortgage and when that
happened I might have new rules. And I would have ninety days to refinance or accept.”

“Can you accept?”

She raised an eyebrow and her mouth made a firm line. “You own a business. Could you
accept? My entire budget was run off the mortgage as it was.” She put her elbows on
the desk and rested her forehead in her palms. “Poor Craig, he said he’d talk to Ed.
He tried to reason with him based on their long friendship, but Ed wouldn’t budge.
He said with the new laws, it was all out of his hands.”

“Wait . . . Craig went to Ed? How long ago was this?”

“About four days before Ed died.” Tasha shook her head. “If Ed was doing this to other
people, I can see why someone would be angry enough to kill him.” She looked me in
the eye. “Do you think that’s what happened? Do you think Ed killed George and someone
else killed Ed?”

“Sheesh, I hope not. I’d hate to see people in town taking the law into their own
hands. This isn’t the 1850s.”

Tasha lifted one corner of her mouth. “We are a cow town of sorts. Did you know there’s
a movement to pass a law so people can openly wear guns on their hips?”

“Crazy people.” I shook my head. “What are you doing about the mortgage? Are you applying
for refinancing anywhere?”

“I’ve been filling out the paperwork for one of those online places that’s supposed
to give you three offers in a matter of days.”

I tilted my head. “Really?”

“Yes, as long as your credit is good.” She sat back and sighed. “Mine’s not great
because of the divorces and some crap Kip’s dad did to discredit me.”

“Wasn’t that a long time ago?”

“You have to wait seven years, and even then it takes a while to get the mark off
your credit rating, unless you pay someone to fix it. If I could afford to pay someone,
I wouldn’t have bad credit.”

“What happens if you can’t refinance?”

“Truthfully?”

My mouth tightened and my gut clenched. “Give it to me straight.”

“I’ll have to take the increased interest rate. There’s no way I can pay every two
weeks.”

“What will the increase in interest do?”

“It blows my little budget out of the water.” She shrugged. “If I can’t refinance,
I’m going to have to put the inn up for sale.”

“But you and Kip live here.”

“I know. . . .” She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “We’ll be
homeless . . . again. You know how hard it is on Kip.”

This time I touched her hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you be homeless. That’s what
friends are for.”

She sent me a wan smile. “Craig said Kip and I could move in with him, but I’m not
ready for that yet. I’m really not ready to let go of my inn.”

“Then let’s do whatever it takes to make it work for you.”

“Got a winning lotto ticket somewhere?” she asked.

“No, but I can take a couple hours a day off work and ensure you can work on your
applications. Meghan’s working out nicely. I can run Kip around and supervise here
whenever you need me.”

“You would do that?”

I rolled my eyes. “All you had to do was tell me and I’d have helped sooner.”

“I’m sorry.” She winced. “I promise not to keep secrets from you ever again. Scout’s
honor.” She crossed her heart and twined her fingers, raising them in the air.

“I’d believe you, but I happen to know you were never a scout.” I stood up. “Seriously.
We’re friends. Stop keeping things from me. When things are bad for me, you’re there.
Let me return the favor.”

“I will.” She rose and gave me a hug.

“Now, do you need anything today?” I looked deeply into her eyes. She looked tired
but relieved.

“No, I’m good for now. But I promise to call should something come up.”

“Good.” I nodded. “I’ve been your friend longer than Craig. Don’t push me away.”

“I know.” She ran a hand through her perfect hair, which, annoyingly, bounced right
back into place. “He prefers we think of each other as a couple now. We should come
first, friends after.”

I gave her a funny look. “Okay, I know that sounds kind of romantic, but at the same
time it also sounds like an abuser. You know, first they get you to fall in love,
then they isolate you from your family.”

“Craig wouldn’t do that.” Tasha crossed her arms. “He’s really romantic, that’s all.”

I hugged her again. “Call me if you need anything. I don’t care what time it is, day
or night. Promise?”

“I promise.” She hugged me back and I felt as if the world was suddenly right-side-up
again.