If Catfish Had Nine Lives (Country Cooking School Mystery) (9 page)

“You look better,” I said to Teddy.

He laughed. “I look like I got the tar kicked out of me.”

“Okay, you win.” I smiled. I was relieved he was well enough to joke. When the Dutch oven cooking demonstrations ended, I told Gram I had to run a quick errand before we could help Joe with the letter. I could tell she wasn’t pleased about the delay, but she pretended she was okay with it.

Teddy lived in a cabin right inside the perimeter of the woods that surrounded Broken Rope, the side opposite to where the high school was located. The cabin was made up of one large space on the main level; a space that was filled with a small galley kitchen, a small living room with the most comfortable couch and recliner ever mass-manufactured, and an office-type space that was home to a large, messy desk. The desk was the only part of the cabin that was messy. Teddy was naturally tidy—always had been. When we were kids, our parents had often lamented my paper-, book-, and clothes-strewn room, while holding Teddy’s spotless space up as something I should strive for. I’d figured out how to hang things up and put things away sometime in my early twenties, but I still wasn’t as good at neatness as Teddy was.

“I’m a little embarrassed, though,” Teddy said. “I can’t believe I let the guy get the best of me.”

I’d lied to him. He didn’t look better. In fact, he looked a little worse, with the bruises and cuts taking on a wider array of colors and the swelling still very obvious.

I hadn’t seen Cliff since the day before at the doctor’s office. He’d sent me a brief text last night telling me he was busy and probably wouldn’t be able to get together. I hadn’t been able to ask him for details about his questioning of Teddy. I was curious enough to have tried again to reach him before my morning trek to Teddy’s cabin, but he hadn’t answered his phone. I was sure he was busy attempting to solve a murder, though, so I was willing to cut him some slack.

“If it wasn’t a fight, Teds, it was an attack, which would make the person—or persons, I suppose—pretty sneaky,” I said.

Teddy shook his head as his lips pinched. He reached up to them reflexively and then normalized. The pain had been either brief or something he wanted to hide from me.

“I was stupid, too, if I truly followed someone out to the woods. I know better than to do something like that with a relative stranger. Mom, Dad, and Gram are going to flip.”

My own lips were sealed for the moment. All three of them would be upset that I didn’t give them the news, but that didn’t change the fact that I was currently too chicken to be the messenger on this one. Teddy would be fine; they could learn the news from him, hopefully in about ten years or so.

“Well, you’re going to be okay. That’s what matters.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” he said.

“How did it go with Cliff?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“I haven’t seen him. You feel like sharing? I’m very curious.”

Teddy was sitting on the couch; he shifted, but not uncomfortably so, more like a thoughtful, purposeful move, as if he was still trying to put all the pieces together in his head.

“Yeah,” he said. “But I’m not sure what I remember, even now. I ended up with a concussion.”

I swallowed a jolt of bitter anger. If the person who had done this to my brother was Norman Bytheway, he was now dead, but I still wanted to hurt him. I silently told myself I just needed to be grateful that Teddy was still alive; his attacker had probably wanted a different outcome. And we couldn’t be sure it was Norman anyway.

“Just what you can,” I said, attempting to keep my voice calm and even.

“I know I’d had a couple beers, but nothing outrageous. I wasn’t drunk at all. In fact, I’d had the beers over the course of a long few hours. I was having fun, though. Those poets are a fun group. I met a couple girls, had some laughs, but nothing serious. I remember Norman sitting next to me as some of the poets were reading. He seemed like a pretty nice guy. He was kind of with that girl Esther, I think, and I don’t think I noticed that she was paying me any special attention until it was kind of too late. I tried to get away, what would you call it—remove myself from the situation—but Norman laughed and said not to worry about it. He acted like it was no big deal, and Esther eventually went away on her own.”

“Is Esther cute with really red short hair?” I asked.

“Yes, that’s her.”

“You sure it was Esther who was interested in both you guys?”

“I think so, but I also think she was more interested in Norman than in me. Or they were just talking. That might have been it.”

I nodded. “How late was it when he asked you to help him with the firewood?”

“Really late—after midnight, that I know for sure.”

“Who was around at the time?”

“Not as many as there were earlier, but the only person I do remember is a pretty brunette. And I only remembered her when Cliff started asking me questions. She must have overheard Norman ask me to help him, because she laughed a little and then went away. I remember her because I thought she was so pretty and I liked her laugh. I don’t know, though, it’s all still just flashes and partial pictures. I might not have the details right, or at least all of the details.”

“Did she have a mole above her lip? Gram would call it a beauty mark.”

“Maybe.”

“You hadn’t seen her earlier?” I said.

“No, I don’t think so, but I just can’t be sure.”

Teddy might have been referring to Vivienne, or maybe not. There wasn’t enough information to know for certain.

“Stay away from Esther, Teddy. I think Jake’s interested,” I interjected. Of course, I wasn’t so sure I wanted Jake to get involved with Esther now. Telling Teddy to keep his distance was just a precaution.

“Got it.”

“Do you remember what she said to you?”

“No.”

“What about Orly? Do you remember anything about him that night?”

“No, Betts, I don’t.”

“Do you have any memory of anyone taking you or leading you anywhere?”

“Not really. Just Norman a little.”

“What prompted you to even go over to the campsite in the first place?” I asked.

“Shoot, Betts, I’ve met lots of new people over the last few days. Everyone was having a good time, hanging out downtown, eating at Bunny’s. It was fun to have lots of people in town in April. It’s usually quiet, and after Ophelia broke up with me . . . well, never mind that. Normally, we’re all just starting to plan stuff, plan skits, contests, all that stuff. This was like an early surprise party.”

I suspected his involvement was less about the surprise party fun and more about his broken heart, but I didn’t push it. And, I couldn’t complain—he’d done plenty to help organize the event, too. He’d done whatever Jake had asked him to do.

“Teddy—didn’t you help set up the campsite on the first day?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Any chance you remember meeting Norman Bytheway earlier than two nights ago?”

He shifted on the couch again. “I don’t know. I don’t remember details if I did. Cliff asked me the same question, but nothing has come too clear yet.”

“Did you help him set up a tent, a camper, something?” I nudged some more.

“Betts, I just don’t know, and thinking about it hurts my head a little.”

“I get that. Stop thinking. It’ll come back to you, but it’s not worth hurting yourself over.”

Teddy’s eyes unfocused and his mouth pinched. “Now, hang on, there is something there. Something about knowing him before. Something on the edge of my memory.”

I held my breath as Teddy worked his bruised brain.

Finally, he shook his head. “I can’t be sure of the exact details, Betts, but I think I remember an argument between Norman and Orly, the guy running the show. This was at the beginning of the convention. There weren’t many people around yet. Yeah, it was when we were setting up the campsite, I’m pretty sure.”

“Orly is the president of the cowboy poetry group. I can see him having heated discussions, even arguments with people. He’s a very in-charge kind of guy.”

Teddy nodded distractedly. “Yeah, that’s true, but there’s something else.”

“Okay, it’ll come. Concussions shouldn’t be messed with. Don’t force it.”

“You’re probably right,” he said unconvincingly. “Hey, wait, it was something to do with that lady, I’m just sure of it.”

“Which lady?”

“That lady that was in the skit yesterday. The one who portrayed the cheating wife.”

“Cliff’s cousin?”

“What? She’s Cliff’s cousin?”

“Yes, how did you not . . .” Teddy and I had always been close, but we’d never socialized together. He might not have met Jezzie all those years earlier, and he might not have picked up on the fact that she was Cliff’s cousin. Within the Broken Rope city limits, we all had a sense of who belonged to who, who was related to who, but outsiders didn’t automatically get that consideration, particularly now, when so many visitors—actors and poets—were in town. “Yes, that’s Cliff’s cousin, Jezzie.”

“I’ll be. She’s funny as heck. I think Orly and Norman mentioned her name in whatever argument they were having. I think.”

“Maybe both of the men liked her,” I said. She was a year or two older than Cliff, which would probably make her too young, conventionally, for Orly, and too old, conventionally, for Norman. But, whatever works.

“No,” Teddy said quickly. “Not that kind of argument. I’ve been in on plenty of those myself; I would have recognized that. It was something else, but I know she was somehow the reason for it . . . or maybe just standing close by. Dangit, Betts, this is going to drive me crazy.”

“I understand. Don’t fret about it, but did you, by chance, mention the argument to Cliff?”

“No, I just remembered. Good grief, how much do you suppose got knocked around in there?” He tapped his head lightly.

I smiled sympathetically. There had been more than one moment in my life when I would have joked about there not being much to be knocked around in the first place. But not now; not today.

“Hey, how about some soup? Chicken noodle?” I said as I stood and moved toward the small galley kitchen.

“That’s Gram’s cure for colds, not concussions,” Teddy said.

“Nope, that’s Gram’s cure for everything,” I said as I opened the cupboard above the small counter to the left of the small sink. As expected, there were a few cans of the famous soup. Of course, Gram had her own homemade recipe, but even she admitted that the healing properties of the reliable canned variety were not to be doubted.

“I’d love some soup. Thanks, Betts.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

I wanted Teddy to relax for a while, but that didn’t stop my own mind from turning over the list of things I felt compelled to do. Of course, I’d let Cliff know what Teddy had now remembered, but I really wanted to find out more about a few women visiting Broken Rope: Esther, Vivienne, and even Jezzie. Then there was the research I needed to do to find Joe’s letter recipient and more about Astin Reagal, not to mention try to figure out if Jerome had left yet. As I poured a can full of water into the pot with the soup, I realized that the best way right now to find some answers would be to talk to Jake. I’d call him as soon as I made sure Teddy was comfortable.

But first things first, I thought as I heated the soup and then poured it into a mug—because a bowl just wasn’t the right way to handle the business of drinking a healing soup.

Jake blinked and looked at the list. “Wow, Betts, you’ve finally taken a liking to our history.”

“You’re my only hope,” I said with a smile.

Jake returned the smile and rolled his eyes. “Where should we begin?”

“With your date, of course. How’d it go?” I scooted up to the same stool I’d sat on the day before. Jake had been happy to hear from me, but he hadn’t immediately offered any details from his dinner with Esther. Of course, I hadn’t yet told him that I’d already talked to her.

“It went well, surprising even the attendees. First dates are torturous endeavors, but this was one of the easier ones I’ve ever participated in.”

“Good. You like her?”

“Sure, but only in that way that I don’t
not
like her, you know. We had a fun time and I don’t think either of us repulsed the other. That’s not a bad first-date report.”

“Make more plans?”

“Maybe,” Jake said coyly.

“Good,” I said.

“All right. Next—you’d like to know what Astin Reagal looked like?” Jake said, making it clear that he’d offered all the date details he was currently willing to give.

“I would. Do you have a picture, or a description or something? Anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t have a picture, and, no, I’ve never heard details of how he looked. Why are you curious?”

“We have another ghost, who happens to have been a Pony Express rider, and who seems to not know everything that happened to him when he was alive, and who showed up about the same time that Esther showed up. His name is Joe and . . . well, I’ll tell you more about why he’s here in a second. It all seems so coincidental and I wondered if maybe he was really Astin showing up at the same time his great-great-granddaughter has. Or maybe it’s his son, Charlie, but that seems less likely, because this ghost rides a horse, and Charlie was a general store owner. However, if you can find anything with just ‘Joe, Pony Express rider,’ that’d be great. Oh, and Jerome’s back, too, or was.” I took a breath.

“That’s all truly very interesting, Betts. I’ll try to get more information one way or another. It’ll be difficult to work with
Joe, Pony Express Rider
but I’ll try. And Astin wasn’t one of our more famous legends—in fact, I’m not sure he was much of a legend; an interesting story, maybe, but not a full legend. His disappearance was an unsolved mystery that must have created some buzz, but since he wasn’t famous or infamous before he disappeared, I imagine he was forgotten about fairly quickly. Remember, it was a very different time—people disappeared, people died. It’s just what happened, though it happened a little more often around Broken Rope.”

“I know. And thanks for checking.”

“And Jerome’s here?”

“Well, he was. I haven’t seen him since yesterday. He thinks he now comes here to protect me. Maybe I don’t need protecting any longer.”

Jake nodded and remained loudly silent for a moment. Any words of advice or wisdom regarding my crush on the dead cowboy had already been said, more than once.

Ultimately—and Jake hadn’t told me this part; I’d come to this conclusion myself—it was ridiculous that I harbored any sort of romantic feelings for a long-dead ghost. Jake
had
made plenty of jokes about Jerome’s inability to produce pheromones, and about what a bad date he’d make to social events, since no one else could see him. Jake had played out a full scenario that included me turning into that old crazy woman who lived out in the woods and was never seen with anyone else, but was always happily talking to herself. He pointed out that that old crazy woman would also lose her teeth, which for some reason had been the bothersome picture that had stuck with me the most.

He’d been bold when talking about Cliff and the amazing possibilities I had with him. He’d firmly but kindly pointed out that I’d screwed that one up already once before and it might be good to learn from that mistake.

And then he’d made it perfectly clear that it didn’t matter that no one else could see Jerome; I was simply not allowed to have strong romantic feelings for both Cliff and Jerome. It wouldn’t be fair to Cliff to split my affections in any way.

I’d lied and told him I was moving quickly beyond Jerome. Okay, it wasn’t a complete lie. I was working to move past him, but the work was slow and tedious. At least I was doing it. Mostly.

Besides, is it really a lie when the person you’re telling it to knows you aren’t being truthful in the first place?

“Well, there has to be something more about Astin somewhere. I just have to dig deep, but I can do that,” Jake said.

“Thank you.”

“So, what does the new ghost, Joe, want? You said you’d tell me his reason for being here.”

“And that’s another reason I’ve come to visit you today. I hope you can help me find some currently living people.”

“Piece of cake.”

“When Joe died, and we don’t know exactly where that was or the circumstances surrounding his death, he had some mail—in a
mochila
, very similar to the one you have but with less scribbling on it—that didn’t get delivered. Over the years, he and Gram have been passing along the contents of the letters to living relatives of the original intended recipients. There are three more letters, and once they’re delivered, he and Gram think something will happen.”

“Oh, Betts, that’s probably one of the most fascinating things I’ve ever heard. How wonderful. What will happen to him when the letters are delivered?”

I shrugged. “No one knows, but that seems to be how the rules work with our visitors—there are no rules, or the rules get made up as we go, or the rules get constantly rewritten.”

“I see,” Jake said. “That bursts the intrigue bubble a little bit, but still, carry on.”

“The letter I read was to Elaine and Frederick Morrison, and it was from her brother, Isaac. Here, I wrote down the address, which still exists, but Elaine and Frederick would, of course, be long gone by now.”

Jake inspected the note I’d written with the date of the letter, the recipients, the sender, and the address.

“The letter was about Isaac being concerned about the state of the country—the North versus the South. The family was from Georgia but had moved to Broken Rope. Georgia had just seceded when he wrote the letter, and he wasn’t sure where his loyalties were going to lie. It would be wonderful to know what happened to them all.”

“Huh. Love this.” Jake moved to his computer desk and started typing. Only a few seconds later, he said, “I found Elaine and Frederick.”

“Already?”

“Yep, this cemetery site is amazing. They’re buried in the bigger cemetery out past that new subdivision that’s being built.”

“That’s not a Broken Rope cemetery,” I said.

“Nope,” Jake said. “But it’s in our county.”

“I wonder why they weren’t buried in Broken Rope,” I said.

Jake shrugged. “They might not have lived in town their whole lives. They’re pretty close by, though, so that’s good. Here, let me see who’s living in their house now. This isn’t as easy.”

I was quiet as Jake worked the keyboard again, this time with more sound effects: things like “Hmmm” and “Oh!” and “I see.”

“Here we go. Do you know the Baxters? Livia and Wayne? They live at that address now.”

“Not well. Can you see if they were somehow related to Elaine and Frederick?”

“Not this way, but I can try to do some genealogy to see who their descendants are and if there are any close by.”

“Great.”

“That’ll take a little longer, though. I’ll need to get back to you. Was there something else you wanted that I could look for quickly?”

“You hired the actors for all the skits, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

A shadow of pain moved over Jake’s eyes. Of course, he was still upset about Norman. I’d been so focused on getting the answers I needed that I hadn’t asked how he was, other than his date.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” I said.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Do you want to know something about an actor?”

“Just Norman, the victim.”

“Oh, well, I told Cliff that all I really know is that Norman came from Kansas City. He called me, telling me he was hoping to come to the convention but he’d also done some acting, local television commercials, and could he help out with the skits.”

“Was this his first convention?” I asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know, but there was something about the way he talked that made me think it was.”

“Was he easy to work with?”

“Very, but he definitely liked trying to get to know the female attendees; Jezzie, Cliff’s cousin, included. I tried to explain that to Cliff.”

“How did Jezzie respond to him?” I asked.

“Surprisingly, she seemed to enjoy it. She’s not married, so I suppose it was no big deal. I thought maybe they were just trying to get into their characters—that happens sometimes with the actors; they get into their roles.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen plenty summertime-character romances come and go.”

“One other strange-but-maybe-only-in-hindsight thing occurred. Yesterday morning, early, before the show, right as I went out my front door to the boardwalk, Norman was muttering unhappily and typing a text or something on his phone. He apologized to me and laughed a little. Then he said, ‘It’s one of those last-chance days, you ever have one of those?’ I wasn’t sure what he meant. He waved it away and said it was nothing and we talked about other things. I didn’t spend an extra second thinking about it. Until after he was killed, of course.”

“I’m sure Cliff and Jim will be checking his phone.”

“That’s the thing. Cliff told me they couldn’t find Norman’s phone.”

“Oh.”

“I know.”

We talked a little longer, but ran out of new information quickly. I thanked and hugged Jake and then left him to his genealogy search.

Just as I stepped out onto the boardwalk, I took a deep breath that was meant to be calming and cleansing. But the distinct smell of wood smoke did not have that effect.

“Jerome?” I said quietly as I looked around.