Scrambled to Death: A Sage and Dash Cozy Mystery (4 page)

Jeff Tucker usually came into the restaurant through the front when he stopped by the ‘Nook. This time, with the café closed, he went around back. Jeff pulled open the screened porch door, careful to make sure Dash didn't slip out. Dash could often be found napping on a rocking chair cushion, sunning himself. He was an indoor cat otherwise. Once Jeff knew the cat didn’t slip out, he knocked at the back entrance.

Rosie opened the kitchen door that led to the porch, only to find her favorite volunteer fireman. He also happened to be the very handsome and sexy local veterinarian. Okay, so maybe she had a little crush on the guy, but it’s not like she was looking to date. She wasn’t interested in a relationship. Rosie liked the simplicity of her life as it was. Relationships complicated things. Her mother was enough of a handful, and Dash was a good companion. He was quiet, listened to her, never complained, and thought she was the bee’s knees. Though, Rosie didn’t mind checking out Mr. Tucker on occasion. He was a cutie, and she was human after all. It would be hard not to notice him.

Jeff stood a little over six feet tall and sported the broadest shoulders Rosie had ever seen. The ex-marine settled back near his hometown of Sugar Hollow, but landed next door in Spring Valley. His veterinarian practice was in Sugar Hollow. It was a busier place and made more sense. Though living in Spring Valley, he spent a lot of time hanging out at the volunteer fire station. Jeff Tucker was a tall drink of water on a hot summer’s day – heck, even on a winter’s day.

“Hey, Rosie girl, I’ve got news you might be interested in.” He leaned in closer. There was undeniable chemistry between them, but neither took it any further than harmless flirting. Jeff was married to his business, and well, Rosie didn’t want to be married.

Rosie stepped aside to let Jeff in. “Can I offer you something to eat or drink?”

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks, unless of course you – well, never mind. I know you’ve got more important things to worry about than my--” He settled on one of the chairs.

“I happen to have a few,” she said with a wave of her finger. She knew exactly what he wanted. He didn’t even have to say it. Like clockwork, Jeff ordered a couple of peanut butter cookies after his lunch. “I’ll be right back.”

She scampered away and returned within minutes.

“Am I that predictable?” Jeff laughed as Rosie handed him a small bag with cookies in it.

“I like to keep those on hand myself,” she answered with a wink.

“I’d say they were for Betty Mae, but that old nag prefers apples and carrots.” He owned a hodge-podge of animals that had been stray, abused, or abandoned. While he couldn’t keep them all, Betty Mae held a special place in his heart. He’d nursed her back to health after a nasty, old farmer starved and abused the girl. Thankfully, they got to her in time. She was living the high life grazing, enjoying fresh food and water, and a warm, comfy barn. And of course, the vet doted on her. The farmer was charged with animal abuse. He ended up paying a fine and served a bit of jail time.

“I’m going to tell Betty Mae you called her an old nag,” Rosie teased. "I think she looks quite lovely for her age."

“You know, I jest. She’s my beauty,” he answered with a smile. “So, the reason I’m here… I’m guessing you heard about Dora being under suspicion. After dusting for prints and looking for evidence, they’ve cleared her. Not a trace of anything after checking her work, home, and car.”

“Wow,” she said, then sat down across from Jeff. “I wonder who did it? And two people? I was going to check with Charlie Staggs. We both use his breakfast meats, but to be honest, it’s a stretch. The guy that was here ordered a bagel and a cup of coffee. Otherwise, I’m not sure what the connection is. Do you think one person killed two people, or do we have two predators on our hands?”

Jeff shook his head and pushed back on his chair, tipping it up. “I'm pretty sure it's going to be one person. The same poison was used in both cases. What did they tell you?”

“Not to leave town,” was all she mumbled. “I’m afraid to re-open the restaurant quite honestly.”

“If you don’t, do you think it will draw more suspicion? Maybe it’s better to go back to business as usual. I don’t think Patterson’s closed down. People still want to eat out.” He watched Rosie’s mouth make an “o” shape and then she stopped before she spoke. “What are you thinking?”

She sighed heavily. “If I open, it’s like I only care about business, and if I don’t open I could lose my business.”

“You worried people are talking?” He felt her out.

She nodded and admitted her fears. “The judgement, I guess. I’m afraid people will think we were responsible. Jeff, what if my business dies because of this? I don’t want to make the wrong decision.”

“You can’t live your life for others, Rosemary. It’s time to get back on the horse,” Jeff added.

“What if…”

“Nope, you can play that game all day long, but it doesn’t get things done.” Jeff settled his chair back down and then stood. “I should get going. I wanted to let you know about the news. One of the guys at the station got the scoop. I’ve got appointments to attend to. I’ll check in on you later.”

She liked that; knowing Jeff would go out of his way to make sure she was okay. She thanked her friend and saw him to the door. He was a good guy.

Jeff was right. She needed to keep going. She wasn’t a quitter. She’d go through and get rid of anything suspect, and replace what she needed to. Did he use cream or sugar in his coffee? Had he put cream cheese or butter on his bagel? The eggs were okay, the meats seemed clear, and most of her pastries and baked goods she either made herself, Betsy Beamer supplied, or she got at the supermarket in a pinch.

Had Betsy had any problems with her baked goods? Could Betsy’s bagels have been botched? Betsy Beamer’s Coffee Bean shop hadn’t seen any recent incidents. There was no reason to suspect the bagels were the issue.

Betsy and Libby went way back. In fact, Betsy used to babysit Rosie when she was younger. She’d been more like an aunt than a neighboring friend. She offered what little stability Rosie remembered from her past.

Could it have been the coffee? No, her mother said she’d also drank some coffee. But Rosie’s mom drinks her coffee black. Rosie pushed through the door that led to the restaurant in the front of the home. Her heart thundered as she approached the spot where the dead man had been sitting before his demise. Did he use sugar? And creamer, well, the little packets were back in the box with the others. Rosie picked up the box and dumped all of the creamers into the big trash bin. She picked up the sugar containers and dumped the slender packets of sugar directly after. No more worries there, but what could have happened if it was from there? How would they trace it back?

Rosie closed her eyes and tried to put together the pieces of the puzzle. What was the connection between the two men? What if it wasn’t related to food? No, that made no sense. They both died a day apart in two restaurants that obviously shared distributors. She sat on an opposing stool and looked at the one where Peyton Darling had been. He didn’t get up and walk around in pain? No. He simply dropped. Whatever it was, it must have happened quick…unless, it was a slow acting formula that was already in his system. Rosie’s mind ticked as she tried to brainstorm. She was desperate for answers.

Rosie looked around. She missed the scent of cinnamon swirl muffins, the quiet chatter of customers, and opening the front door for business. It would happen again, but she needed to be sure everyone that came into her café was safe.

She headed back to the home portion of the building and locked the restaurant door behind her. Dash met her on the sofa and snuggled against her leg. She slid her fingers through the cat’s soft fur coat and enjoyed hearing the loud purr that sounded more like a motorboat.

Dash curled up and found a good spot. He could do this all day. Normally, Rosie was at the restaurant, and for some stupid reason cats weren’t allowed in the cafe, or at least that’s what Rosie said. Whoever made that rule was dumb. D.U.M.B. Dumb. Cats made every environment better. Well, at least in his eyes they did.

Rosie lingered on the victims. What did she know about the men, other than their familiarity of living in the same small town? Sure she recognized them, saw them, but really didn’t know anything in depth. She rarely pried when they spoke at the restaurant, and kept things on lighter topics like the weather. She knew Peyton and Nancy had gone through a nasty divorce that never seemed to end. Nancy was Charlie Staggs’s sister. She once owned the little Bed and Breakfast on Main Street. Peyton snatched it away during their divorce, which left his ex-wife bitter and vowing to get revenge. Word has it that he’d been dragging his feet through the mud, refusing to finalize everything, even though most of the details were handled. Nobody knew the full details other than Charlie, Nancy’s brother. Nancy wasn’t much of a gossip and mostly kept to herself these days.

Her brother Charlie, the one that owned the smoke shop, doted on Nancy. He tried to chase away her demons by setting her up in a little gift and antique shop next to his place over on Spring Valley Pike. The weird thing was that Peyton closed the Bed and Breakfast business down, letting it fall into disrepair. He knew it was Nancy’s dream business, and now she’d have to see her dream dilapidated every time she drove through town. Was that better than running it and owning a thriving business in his eyes?

Was Nancy bitter? Yes…but a killer? Rosie had a hard time believing Nancy could be pushed that far, but who knew. Though, Peyton was up to no good. Last she heard, he’d hired a fancy-pants Philadelphia lawyer to make another grab at Nancy’s life. There were rumors for sure, but nothing was set in stone.

Nancy and Peyton were one story, while Dora and Christopher were quite another.

When Gary Snyder showed up at The Breakfast Nook, Libby knew it wasn’t to socialize. They’d only just re-opened the place after being closed for two days. Now was as good as ever, so the women decided to go for it and started serving breakfast and lunch again. When it came down to the dead man, Rosie was pretty sure Peyton hadn’t fallen ill from his quick breakfast. Nothing pointed to it anyway. She wasn’t a gambler by nature, but this was almost a sure bet.

Gary brushed his hair to the side, a habit he barely noticed anymore. He did the motion six or seven times on getting out of his car. Libby groaned and waited. He’d parked his sheriff’s car smack in front of their restaurant and took up two spots, as if he was more important than everyone else and wanted his presence known. There was no good reason he couldn’t park like a normal person and save a spot for other customers. Sure, things were pretty quiet at the restaurant that day, so it’s not like people were beating down the door to get it. Still, he did it for all the wrong reasons.

Gary pulled open the front door and scampered in, stomping his feet on the welcome mat. “Libby,” he said with a nod. “Rosie around?”

“Who should I say is calling?” she asked and bit her tongue before she made a comment she might regret. She was never a fan of the guy. Though to be fair, they’d had their own share of run-ins over the years. Libby’s past was dotted with a few moments of…umm, moments.

Gary settled on one of the counter stools. He dropped like a mule that buckled at the knees and landed with a thud. The town’s sheriff was a bull in a china shop, hardly graceful. “A lot of men are dropping like flies,” he said, insinuating it was a planned attack.

Libby frowned. “What are you saying?”

“A lot of troubled women here in Spring Valley. You wouldn’t know anything about a circle of….”

Rosie walked out with a tray of fresh cookies. Her back was to the door as she pushed through. On turning around, she saw the sheriff sitting at the counter. She drew a deep breath and figured she’d offer him a cookie to soften the blow. He wasn’t a regular, and with recent events she figured it wasn’t a social call.

“Well, there she is.” Gary stood and pushed his meaty fists into the pocket of his overstretched pants. His button was straining to stay in place. His belt attempted to back up the effort.

“Sheriff Snyder, would you like a cookie?”

“Drop the cookies and the act, lady. We’ve got talking to do.” His tone was harsher than usual. He meant business, as much as he could.

“You watch your tone with my daughter,” Libby said as she barged between them.

Gary sneered and then glared at Libby. “Don’t get too preachy. You’ll need to answer a few questions, too. We got interesting information back, and things aren’t looking good.”

Libby gulped and backed down. This was the last thing she wanted – to get tangled with the guy with the power to arrest her, and had plenty of times in the past. She wished Owen was around. He’d stick up for her and tell old Sheriff Snyder to back off.

Curious. Libby realized she wanted Owen to come save her, not John Patterson. Sure, John would make her a nice meal, but the man was soft at times. He wasn’t the kind of guy to kick it out in the street in your honor, while Owen – well, he’d take care of her.

“Let’s talk in here,” Rosie said. She led the sheriff through the restaurant and opened the door to her home. Libby locked up the café and went to join them.

When they entered the kitchen, Dash went to see what the commotion was about. He circled between Rosie’s legs once she sat down at the kitchen table. He didn’t know who the guy was, but he certainly didn’t care for his tone. Not one bit. He didn’t like the man talking that way to Rosie. Dash considered peeing on the man’s shoe, but thought better of it. He didn’t need Rosie to get into trouble…though a hairball…

“Poison is an interesting thing. Two days, two dead men, both poisoned. You knew we’d be coming for more answers. After all, he dropped like a dead fly,” he said with a gesture toward the restaurant. Gary stretched his chubby legs out in front of him. His shoes inched closer to Dash.

Dash was tempted. For now, he held it in. Oh, the hacking he could do…
Don’t tempt me, old man
.

“What do you want to know?” Rosie asked, ready to get this over with.

“Formal interview, statements, and the whole nine yards; you’re going to need to come down to the station and go over the details again.” He brushed his hair to the side, though not a hair was out of place.

Libby blurted out, annoyed with the sheriff, “We already gave statements on the day it happened.”

“New information came to light, so pack up your things and let’s head to the station.” He flashed a grin that showed discolored teeth from too much coffee and not enough time spent flossing properly.

The women followed Gary out to his car, which he’d insisted on. He’d return the women when they were finished. It was maybe two blocks at most to the station. It’s not like they couldn’t walk there. Either way, he made a big to-do about keeping things official.

Thankfully, the restaurant was empty, though people seeing them going to the police department in the back of Gary’s car wouldn’t help business. It wouldn’t only be people who were dying – but small businesses if this kept up.

Before they got too far into the process, Libby was fired up and ready for a fight. She wanted no part of this. Sure, she’d caused trouble in the past, more absentmindedly than on purpose, but he was questioning her as if she’d actually murdered someone! The only thing she’d been guilty of murdering in the past was Quiche Lorraine when she overcooked it.

“Are you charging us with anything?” Libby started, making him spill it on the table. “Because if you are, I’m getting a lawyer.”

“Funny you should mention a lawyer…” Sheriff Snyder glared at Libby. She was always a handful. “Don’t bother calling Mr. Banks. He won’t answer.”

“Do you honestly think we had something to do with this?” she snapped.

Rosie sighed. “What do you want to know? Sheriff Snyder, I have nothing to do with what happened.”

Gary challenged Rosie. “A man drops dead in your restaurant, and you’ve got nothing to do with it? Kind of a laisse-faire attitude, if you ask me, but then again, you’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?”

“Avoiding? What are you talking about?” Libby spit out. “We’ve been where we always are. It’s not our fault if you get lost trying to find your way out of a shoebox.”

Sheriff Snyder’s shoulders tensed. The vein in his neck bulged. “I’ve had just about enough of your attitude. You keep it up, and I’ll arrest you for interfering with an investigation.”

Libby was about to respond, but thought it best to close her mouth.

Rosie tried to calm the waves that were forming. “Have you learned anything? I’d like to solve this as much as anybody. It’s bad for business. I’d like to put the entire thing behind me. I’ll cooperate however you want. I’m innocent. I feel horrible that the poor man collapsed.”

Gary’s chip fell off his shoulder. His edginess softened. “To be honest, any clues or leads would be potential crime solvers. At this point, all we know is that two men died within days of each other, both at a restaurant. We still don’t have a clue what connects them. Maybe they were separate incidents, but both men were poisoned and that points to a connection. I wish there was more information, but there isn’t, and with limited man power…”

Rosie nodded her head as the sheriff spoke. “Right, I can see how they would appear to be connected, but what if they aren’t? What if they were simply two people?”

Gary sighed. “The same poison was used. What’s the likelihood of two people choosing the same method? And what if there’s another murder? We may well have a serial killer in town.”

“Do you think?” Libby’s mouth gaped open like a fish.

“I sure hope not,” Sheriff Snyder said. “I don’t have that kind of training. And bringing in the higher ups, well, it creates a hassle. Something happened a while back, a solid ten or twelve years ago, I think it was. Remember when the Wendell’s girl went missing? Anyway, I’m hoping to wrap this before other departments start digging in.”

“Oh, I remember that,” Libby said. “What a mess. There were people crawling all over, and still not a trace of the girl.”

“What happened?” Rosie asked. “I don’t remember.”

“Oh, that’s when you were ‘finding yourself’ and took off for a while. Well, turns out the Wendell’s girl ran off with an older man. Her parents were livid when the found out. They thought she was dead, but she turns up pregnant and married to a guy twenty years her senior. They up and left town after being brought back to answer questions. The State Police found her. Then her parents threatened to go after the man, only with the timing of the marriage and pregnancy, turns out she was eighteen which made her legal. She’d started seeing him at seventeen, but nobody knew. Anyway, she claimed it was true love. Oh, you missed a doozy.”

“Why did they think she was dead?” Rosie was sucked into the old gossip.

Sheriff Snyder chimed in. “She left all her things. Didn’t pack up a stitch of clothing or anything else; took off and never came home. They figured she’d been abducted, and needed to consider the worst case scenario. Anyway, let’s get back to our current situation.”

Libby shifted in her seat. Gary Snyder set her off. He got under her skin. Maybe it was his weird mannerisms, the way he was short with her, or maybe it had to do with all the times that their paths crossed that didn’t end well for her. Either way, he was hardly her favorite person. The sooner they got out of there, the better.

Rosie looked at the Sheriff who was sweeping his hair to the side, for the umpteenth time. “If we hear anything, you’ll be the first to know. I haven’t held anything back. I don’t know more than what you’ve heard.”

“Fair enough.” He scanned her eyes for tell-tale signs of lying. “You seem on the up and up.”

Libby pouted. “And I don’t?”

“Don’t get me started on you,” he said with a snide laugh. “Good day, ladies. A walk back to the restaurant will do you good. I’m off to get lunch.”

“You were going to-”

“Mom, it’s only two blocks. Let’s go,” Rosie shot out before her mother ended up in trouble. Her mom’s habit of talking before her brain kicked in grew tiresome.