Gluten for Punishment (25 page)

The chief chewed on a toothpick for a long moment. “I think Tim will be fine. It looks
like you were the target. Plus, I doubt whoever did this would strike twice—not with
as much police presence as we have out here right now. But I tell you what, you get
even the slightest bit scared, you call 911. Someone can be there within five minutes.”

“I have you on speed dial.” The truth of that was less comforting than it should be.
“Listen, I have to be at work by 4
A.M.
,” I said. “I have orders to process and a bakery display case to fill.”

“Maybe you should consider closing for a day or two.” The chief moved the toothpick
from one side of his mouth to the other.

“That’s a good idea,” Tasha, Brad, and Sam all said at the same time.

I narrowed my eyes. “This is my life and I can’t let someone threaten me out of it.
Seriously, Tasha, could you shut down the Inn for a couple of days? No? What about
you, Brad? Could you simply close shop? Sam? Could you not take calls?”

“We understand you’re trying to run a business here, Ms. Holmes,” Chief Blaylock answered
for my friends. “But there won’t be a business if you end up in the hospital or worse.”
His brown-eyed gaze was sincere and sent a shiver of fear down my back at the idea
of something worse than hurt.

“I could carry a weapon.” I knew I was reaching, but I refused to be bullied into
giving up.

“Concealed carry isn’t law yet,” Brad said. “Besides, you don’t own a gun. Do you?”

“My daddy’s pump rifle’s in the house somewhere. Or at least it was . . .”

“The CSU guys will be done soon. I suggest you wait until morning to check for missing
articles.” Chief Blaylock’s mouth was grim. “If you can’t take a day off of work,
then you need to think about having someone with you at the shop.”

“I have an assistant. She’ll be there from ten until four.”

“Not long enough.” The chief shook his head.

“I refuse to have to have a bodyguard everywhere I go. My friends and family have
lives of their own.”

“Maybe then, for their sake, you should think about closing shop until this blows
over or we catch the guy doing this.” Stubborn should have been the chief’s first
name.

“You’re pretty sure this is a man?” Sam asked.

“Guessing at this time,” the chief said. “Why don’t you go inside and pack an overnight
case then go off with your friends. I’ll have a patrolman sit outside your house tonight
’til your brother comes home.”

Oh, I was feeling ornery now. The chief thought
he
was stubborn? He should have never pushed me. “If you’ll be here, why can’t I stay?”

“You haven’t seen the mess. Once you look at your bed, you’ll want to stay at the
inn for a few days.” The chief’s features were grave. I swallowed hard and took him
at his word. Looks like I had to pack my bag.

“Come on.” Tasha put her arm through mine. “We’ll go in together.”

I skipped the kitchen and went straight up to my room. Brad stayed behind to talk
to Chief Blaylock. Sam followed behind us, his expression pensive. The stairs looked
normal. Squeaky wood, which was worn in the right places from over a hundred years
of footsteps. The hall was quiet except for a uniformed officer standing outside my
door. I swallowed. He looked daunting in the cheerily papered hallway with his gun
on his hip.

I took a deep breath to prepare myself and turned into my bedroom. Two gentlemen wearing
dark CSU jackets snapped pictures. The room was trashed. My dresser drawers were opened,
clothes tossed about. My underwear was ripped and lying in colorful pieces of silk
and satin on the floor. The bed itself was a horror. The blankets were torn and cut
with long slashes and hung in rags to the floor. The pillows were ripped apart; stuffing
and feathers were everywhere. The sheets and mattress showed such violence that my
vision began to blur. If anyone had been sleeping in my bed when the attacker came,
they would have been ripped from limb to limb.

“What kind of wacko does this?” Sam muttered.

“How? I mean, that’s a lot of work.” Tasha wrung her hands. The entrance to my room
was thin and tall as old doors are and she had taken her arm from mine to let me enter.

“It’s a lot of anger,” Charlie McGee added. “Whoever did this was filled with uncontrollable
rage.” He waved a pencil at the bed. “Something like this is very personal.”

I took a couple of numb steps toward my open closet and something crunched under my
feet. It was broken bits of porcelain from the handcrafted dressing table set Grandma
Ruth had given me when I had turned sixteen. Tears welled up in my eyes. The closet
door hung on its hinges. The clothing inside of it had been hacked and tossed about.

“Hey.” Tasha took hold of my arm. “Why don’t we let these guys do their job? I’ve
got some clean pajamas I can share for tonight.”

I couldn’t see through the tears. But she and Sam got me out of there. My insides
were cold.

“You know,” Tasha said as she rubbed my arm and walked me down the stairs, “let’s
go to the inn. You look like you could use a good drink. I have just the thing in
my bar.”

“I’ll follow you and make sure you get in safe.” Sam jingled his keys as we stepped
out into the dark, cold October night.

“Where’s your bag?” Brad asked.

Sam shook his head.

“I’m taking her home now.” Tasha’s voice brooked no interference.

“But shouldn’t I stay and answer any questions Chief Blaylock might have?”

“The chief’s questions can wait until morning.” Tasha sent the men a look.

“I’ll take care of things here,” Brad said. “You go. Get some rest.”

“Are you sure?” I glanced from Brad to the chief.

“They’re sure.” Tasha dragged me toward the driveway. Somewhere the wind blew through
dry leaves and rattled the trees. I thought I smelled snow. Another shiver wracked
through me. A car pulled up and Rocky stepped out, camera in hand.

“So much for not making the news,” I muttered. Rocky snapped a picture as Tasha and
Sam stuffed me into Tasha’s car.

“Tomorrow is Friday,” Tasha said as she started up the car. “You can borrow my clothes.
Saturday, we’re going shopping. You needed a new wardrobe anyway.”

I stared out the window and watched as Sam stepped up to Rocky and said something
that had the photographer taking a step back. Then Tasha turned the corner and we
were away from the scene. I saw the old houses pass by as we drove. When I was young,
I had thought Oiltop was a boring town where nothing happened. A lot had changed since
I was a kid.

CHAPTER
34

W
e arrived at Tasha’s apartment in the carriage house to find Tasha’s mom, Mary, dozing
on the couch. Tasha woke her gently.

“Mom, we’re back.”

Tasha’s mom sat up. Her blonde hair was cut in a soft shag. Her face had pillow marks
from the couch cushions. “Oh, oh, dear, I’m sorry I fell asleep.” She wiped her mouth
and blinked at me. “Are you okay?” She stood and gave me a quick hug. I absorbed the
heat from her arms and tried to not think of my own mom.

“I’m okay. I wasn’t home when they broke in and Grandma Ruth was with me when we discovered
the damage.”

She held me at arm’s length. Her soft cream sweater had jack o’ lanterns dancing across
the front in a line. She wore a pair of slacks, her feet covered in stockings, her
shoes at the door so as not to track anything into the house. “Are you going to stay
with Tasha for a while?”

“The cops thought it was best,” I said and cringed at the quiver in my voice.

Tasha gave her mom a look and changed the subject. “How was Kip?”

“He never woke up.” She tugged her sweater into place.

“You can stay the night if you want,” Tasha offered.

“No, I can’t.” Her mom headed toward the kitchen to put on her shoes. “I’ve got to
be at work at six. But I’ll be around if you need me.” She pointed at me. “That means
you, too, dear.”

“Thanks.” Ever since my mom had died, Tasha’s mom had decided she would mother me.
Right now it felt nice. But I knew she had to go to work. Unlike my mom, who’d had
Dad’s teacher’s pension to live on, Tasha’s mom had only her own savings. She supplemented
them by working in the school cafeteria. The early lunch shift started at six so that
hot meals would go out to the kids starting at eleven
A.M.
It wasn’t hard, and Tasha’s mom said she liked the work. It kept her busy and gave
her something to look forward to.

I made tea as Tasha walked her mom out. Tasha came back into the kitchen and locked
the door. I poured hot water into thick mugs and added chamomile tea bags. “Your mom
is so nice.”

“Thanks.” Tasha picked up the tea and moved toward the living room. “If you don’t
mind, I’m going to go check on Kip.”

“I’ll come with you.” I followed her down the small hall. I wasn’t ready to be alone
just yet.

Tasha stepped into Kip’s tiny bedroom. I leaned against the door and hugged my warm
mug. The scent of the tea wafted around me. Tasha set hers down on the nightstand
and leaned down. She tucked the covers around Kip, and softly ran her hand over his
hair.

“Mom?” he asked, not opening his eyes.

“I’m right here, sweetie,” she said.

“Okay. Sweet dreams.” He muttered loud enough for me to catch it.

“Sweet dreams.” She planted a soft kiss on his forehead and my heart squeezed. What
would it be like to have kids of my own? I guess first you had to have a man in your
life. And since I still wasn’t ready to date, that wasn’t in the cards for me.

“He’s so sweet,” I said as she stepped out of the room.

Tasha smiled and sipped her tea. “They all are when they’re sleeping.”

• • •

I
slept with Tasha. Rather, Tasha slept while I laid there in her bed and stared at
the ceiling. Once the fear and numbness wore off, I got mad. Whoever had done this
was a coward. Why couldn’t they say what they had to say to my face? I imagined them
coming into my room with their big knife and me waiting for them with my daddy’s pump-action
rifle. The moment he had raised his knife, I would have simply pulled the trigger
and let the twin-barrel rifle do its job.

It was a nice thought, one that helped me get up out of the bed and pull on Tasha’s
clothes. The white tee shirt was too small and the black pants an inch or two short,
but the rest fit fine. When we were teens, people sometimes mistook us for sisters,
but I think it was simply because we hung around together. Our shapes were not even
close to the same. Tasha was a thin blonde and about five-foot-four. I was five-foot-seven
and curvy. Ever since she had had Kip, our butts have been the same size, which lent
itself to swapping clothes whenever we needed to, like right now.

I grabbed my coat and purse and headed out of the house, ensuring the door was locked
behind me. Tim was waiting in the driveway. The sound of my footsteps on the crunchy
gravel echoed through the quiet morning air.

“Thanks for picking me up.” I crawled into my brother’s warm car.

“Not a problem.”

“Have you been to the house yet?”

His face was set like stone in the light from the dashboard. “No, but I heard it was
bad.”

“Are you sure you want to sleep there?”

“If you’re asking me if I’m scared . . .” He glanced at me and then back at the road.
“I’m not.”

“Okay. Good.”

“I heard they got in by breaking a basement window.”

“That’s what Chief Blaylock said.” I stared out the window and up at the stars, which
twinkled in the black sky.

“It wasn’t anyone who knew us.”

I turned toward my brother. “What makes you say that?”

Tim’s hands were tight on the wheel. “Everyone who knows us knows where we keep the
spare key.”

My eyes grew wide. “Of course. They would have gone in through the door.” I sat back.
“That narrows the field a bit.”

“Who’s so pissed at you he would trash the house but didn’t know about the spare key?”

“Good question.” We pulled into the driveway. The cop in the squad car got out to
check on us as we climbed out of Tim’s car.

“Hey.” Tim shoved his hands in his pocket and nodded at Officer Bright.

“What are you two doing here this early in the morning?” he asked.

“I live here. Got off work and now I’m going in and going to bed,” Tim said.

“I came back for my van. I’m heading into town to start work at the bakery.”

“Hate to do this, but it’s procedure. I need to check your IDs.”

Tim rolled his eyes and I blew out a long breath as I dug through my purse. The officer
took our IDs and looked at them with his flashlight. Then he looked at us carefully.
“Thanks.”

Tim put his ID back in his wallet and tucked it in his pocket. I took mine and put
it back into my purse.

“If you wait five minutes, my replacement will be here,” the officer said. “I can
see you to the bakery before I go home.”

“You don’t need to—”

“Yes, he does,” Tim cut me off. “Thanks.” He shook the officer’s hand. “I’m going
in.” He planted a kiss on my cheek and went to the front door to let himself in.

“Don’t worry about cleaning up,” I hollered after him. “I’m going to call a service.”

Tim laughed. “As if I’d do housework.” He disappeared into the house and I immediately
started to worry.

“It’s safe to go in, right?” I asked the officer.

“No one’s come or gone since I got here.”

Not that that was much comfort, I thought, but kept it to myself. I climbed into my
van and started it up. The officer was right. Within five minutes, another cop car
came to replace him. Officer Bright drove behind me to work and checked the building.
At least for now, all was well.

• • •

I
was stocking my display case with fresh pastries when I saw him walk by the front
windows. My first thought was, that’s weird. I checked the time. It was around 5:30
A.M.
The same time George had been murdered. Why was Ralph Kennedy walking down Main Street
at this time of the morning? I went to the front door and stuck my head out to see
where he was going. The streetlights showed he had a bank deposit bag in his hand.
The bag looked full and heavy in the lamplight. I checked behind me and the rest of
the street was empty. Cold wind blew between the buildings, causing leaves to rise
up in little whorls.

Ralph crossed the street and turned into the bank’s driveway and out of sight. I looked
at the time again and caught a chill. Was it Ralph who had killed George? Why? He
seemed like such a well-mannered man. Not the kind to harbor enough rage to bludgeon
not one but two men and rip my bedroom to pieces.

I closed and locked the front door and dialed Chief Blaylock’s number. I got his answering
service. “Chief Blaylock, this is Toni Holmes. When you get a chance could you come
down to the bakery? I need to talk to you. Coffee’s on the house. Thanks.”

I hit End on my cell phone and leaned against my display case. Ever since I had the
letter pushed under the back door, I’d been careful to open the blinds when I got
to the bakery in the morning. That way, no one could vandalize the front without my
seeing them. This was the first time I’d seen Ralph Kennedy walk by. Craig had told
me the night George was killed both he and Ralph worked late, or in this case, early
in the pharmacy. Maybe this was a regular thing. Maybe Ralph saw who had killed George.
If so, why wasn’t he coming forward?

I made a fresh pot of coffee and waited for Ralph to pass by on his way back to the
pharmacy. It might be worth my while to invite the man in and find out what he knew
about George’s death.

Twenty minutes later, I’d done all the work in front I could do, and Ralph still hadn’t
returned. My cell phone rang. One look at the number and I picked up. “Hey, Tasha.”

“Where are you?” She sounded mad. “I woke up and you weren’t here. You scared the
devil out of me.”

“I called Tim and he brought me in to work. I told you I was going to go, remember?”

“I didn’t think you’d leave in the middle of the night.”

“I start work at 4
A.M.
I’m not going to change my routine because some insane man hacked at my bed and tossed
flour around my kitchen. Besides, Tim is up at that time of night. You were sleeping
soundly so I called him. He made sure I was safe.”

“You should have woken me up. I would have taken you, or at the very least, made you
coffee.”

“I’m fine, really.” Finally Ralph Kennedy walked by the shop. “Listen, I’ve got to
go.”

“Why? It’s ten after six.”

“Ralph Kennedy walked by. I’m going to invite him in for coffee.” I made my way to
the front door and unlocked it.

“Wait, by yourself? Do you think that’s wise?”

“It’s only Ralph,” I said. “I’ve offered him coffee before. Now is as good a time
as any to get to know him a bit.” I hung up and pushed the door open and stepped out
but Ralph was nowhere to be seen. That man could move fast.

“Hey, you’re opening early.”

Startled, I jumped and glanced to my left. Sam stepped out of his truck and onto the
sidewalk. “What are you doing here?” The question came out involuntarily.

“Mrs. Becher hired me to install shelves in the quilt shop.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I think she likes having me around.”

“At six-fifteen in the morning?” I hugged myself, as the wind was cold. A crow
caw
ed as it flew over the town.

Sam looked warm in his shearling jacket. “No, the job starts at seven. But I thought
I might be able to persuade you to open early and let me have breakfast with you.”

“Are you checking up on me, too? Or do you always have jobs that start at seven
A.M.
?”

“No, I don’t always have seven
A.M.
jobs; sometimes I go to work even earlier. A contractor’s work is never done.” He
opened the door, took my elbow, and escorted me inside.

The bakery smelled of coffee, cinnamon, and pumpkin. The chocolate chip pumpkin muffins
had been a huge hit. I had an order for three dozen to be delivered to the senior
center at ten
A.M.
Sam smelled of aftershave and soap. He took off his Stetson and ran a hand through
his hair. My cell phone buzzed in my hand. His gaze twinkled at me. “Are you going
to get that?”

I looked down to see if it was Tasha calling me back. “No.” I stuffed the phone in
my apron pocket.

“Then how about some coffee?”

“Okay.” I took down two giant cups with matching saucers and handed him one set. “The
coffee carafes are full, take your pick.” I waved to the coffee bar.

He took me up on my offer, pouring himself a cup and adding a generous amount of cream
and sugar.

“You know, come to think of it, your truck always seemed familiar to me,” I said as
I watched him. “I guess now I know why.”

“Why?” He stirred his coffee.

“I’ve seen you on the road on my way to work.”

“I’m sure you have.” He took a seat. “There aren’t a lot of people on the road at
five
A.M.
”

“Wait—” I narrowed my eyes. “Where were you the morning George was killed?”

He laughed. “So, what, I’m a suspect now? Really?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Fine.” He tipped his head. “If it makes you feel any better, I was in Garden City
looking at a couple head of cattle to buy.” He reached into his coat. “I’ve got the
rancher’s number on my phone. You can call and verify. I bet he’s up this early.”

“No, I believe you.” The heat of a blush rushed over my cheeks. It was hard not to
feel stupid accusing a friend of murder. But really, anyone could be the killer, right?
My phone rang in my pocket. I ignored it.