Scrambled to Death: A Sage and Dash Cozy Mystery (7 page)

Everybody looked at Rosie. Nobody moved. If ever there were an awkward moment, this was it. She waited for the fallout, but instead, Matt simply handed Jeff his card.

"Are you feeling okay?" Jeff asked Rosie, a little confused.

She nodded and dug for a save.

Everybody watched her and waited for an answer.

"Sorry, I thought I saw a wasp. Must have been my imagination." She cringed. She couldn't think of anything better to say. Matt gave her an odd look. Her mother said nothing, and now Jeff would think she was crazy. Great.

Jeff looked at the card and read it. "Matthew Adams, Financial Consultation, thanks."

Matt turned to leave. "I should get going. I wanted to say I'm sorry.”

Libby followed him outside. "Hey, I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure, anything."

"That phone call last night...if you need to talk, a friend, I'm here." She gave it a shot. It couldn't hurt, but once he was gone they might not see him again. While he came through town from often times, he might have good reason to stay away now.

Matt gave her a long hard look. He swallowed, not sure what to say. He nodded and thanked her before walking away.

When Libby walked back inside, she shook her head. "I'm not sure he'll be back. What should we do?"

"I have his card," Jeff said. "What's going on? It's got his fingerprints on it. What aren't you telling me? The way you reacted when you saw him, I figured things weren’t quite normal."

Rosie exhaled deeply. She crossed her arms and pulled them tightly against her. "We think he might have something to do with the guys that -- died. I can't be certain, and I don't have any evidence, but we overheard a conversation last night and everything in my body told me it was trouble."

Jeff watched her body language. He wanted to reach out and hold her, tell her he'd protect her, but it would cross the line. Instead he went with logic over gut reaction. "Did you talk to the police yet?"

Rosie answered. "We're going over after we close this afternoon. The problem is that it's hearsay, and after his explanation it makes me question my original thought."

"I don't think he'll be back for a while. Though, I've got to say, I don't think a cold-blooded killer would take the time to apologize for a drunken pass that really wasn't a big deal. I'm having second thoughts about him. And after he talked about his business, I realized we could have misinterpreted what was going on." Libby looked at her daughter, hoping she'd have a feeling one way or another.

"I'm not sure what to think." Rosie ran her fingers over her arm in a nervous gesture, trying to sooth the goosebumps that dotted her arm.

Jeff listened to the women reflect on their changed opinions. "Were you spooked, thinking he was up to no good? Then you should go to the police and at least let them know he's a potential suspect worth looking at. If you truly believe that you misread what you heard, then realize that telling the police could turn his entire world upside down, being listed as a suspect when he's innocent. I'm not sure what to tell you, since I wasn't there. If he hadn't come in this morning, you seemed to have good enough reason to believe there was trouble."

Rosie agreed with him. "It's almost how it happened. He was tucked in an alcove, not in his car. Where he was, it made no sense for him to be there, unless he was trying to hide. Why would he call somebody late at night from an alley? He doesn’t even live in Spring Valley, yet he was conducting business there, and at that time? He was drunk. I think his guard was down. He made a stupid mistake and was trying to cover it up."

"Now, I don't see it that way," Libby said. We stumbled on a conversation in the middle of it. And what he told us makes sense now. Maybe he was lost, maybe there's a better signal and he was walking to where his phone worked best. I can't explain it, but this morning something was different. I wasn't afraid, and he seemed genuine. A killer doesn't do stuff like that. Is he a drunk more than he should be? Yes. Does he gamble too often, stopping by on his way to the casinos? Probably, but who am I to say? He seems to have a stressful job, and we barely know the guy. We've never had reason to worry about him in the past, and I think we let our imaginations run away with us."

"You could be right," Rosie answered with a sigh. "My gut still says things are weird."

Jeff picked up a napkin and wrapped the business card in it. He placed it in Rosie's hand. "His fingerprints are on here. If you go to the police, this might help."

"Thanks," Rosie said. She tucked the card in a safe place. "Let me go make your lunch. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"I'll do it. You stay here and talk." If only her daughter would give him a chance. He was one of the good guys. The kind of guy that covered your back. The kind of guy that opened doors for you and asked about your day. He'd make a great son-in-law, but Rosie would hear none of it. She was determined to make it on her own and prove to the world she could do it. If for no other reason than to make up for the mistakes Libby made while Rosie was growing up. Libby sighed and walked into the kitchen.

Jeff and Rosie were deep in conversation when Libby returned. The door swung open.

Myrtle stood in the doorframe. She looked paler than a ghost.

"Myrtle, are you okay?" Rosie asked.

She looked at the group that was staring at her. "Gloria -- it's Gloria. I don't even know how to say this..."

"Oh my gosh, is she okay?" Jeff asked.

"No," she blurted out. "She's not."

Libby panicked. "Please don't tell me another person dropped dead."

Myrtle was perplexed. "Oh dear no, why would you even say that?"

"Well, you're about as white as a ghost, and you said..." Libby bit her tongue and reworded things after careful thought. "What is it, dear?"

"I saw Gloria, and she was with a gentleman caller. She didn't know I was there." She lowered her voice and whispered the rest. "It wasn't her husband."

Jeff took the moment to excuse himself. "I need to get to work." He said his good-byes and left the women to gossip.

"Who was it?" Libby blurted out.

"Mom, it's not our business." Rosie quickly scampered into the kitchen.

Myrtle shot Rosie a look as she walked away and continued jabbering. "It was a gentleman who comes in here for breakfast. I don't know his name, but they seemed to be whispering and standing awfully close, as they were in cahoots and up to no good. Imagine, carrying on an affair right in broad daylight for all to see. Wait until her husband hears about this."

Libby took the news in stride. Unless… "The guy, was he wearing a trench coat, tan in color, jeans and dark cowboy boots? Was he standing about this high?" She raised her hand and arm to imitate a taller man.

Myrtle was shocked. "Why, yes, yes he was. Do you know him?"

"He comes in here from time to time, but I'd be interested to hear how he knows her, and what they have to talk about. He's not from around this area. He travels through for business, so the fact that Gloria even knows him makes for pretty interesting stuff."

Myrtle shrugged. "Well, if you ask me, the two were standing closer than friends should stand. They were in each other's 'personal space' and I'll tell you, if the good Lord himself didn't stop me, I would have gone over and given her a piece of my mind. Cheating in broad daylight...I expected more from her."

Both women turned toward the door as Gloria made her way inside. Myrtle scowled at her friend. Libby said nothing.

Gloria pinched her nose. "What's up with you? Why the sour puss?"

Myrtle frowned with disapproval. "You tell me, Miss Party Pants. Who was your lover boy that you stood so close to this morning? I saw you, don't you deny it."

"Lover boy? Are you crazy?" Gloria ranted. "Really, Myrtle! It was a guy asking for directions to a car shop. He mentioned a leak in his tire and Harley's is a convenience store and doesn't service vehicles."

"The two of you stood awfully close for simple directions. Liar, liar pants on fire," she spat out.

"Oh, really Myrtle. Give it a rest. You think a guy like that would go for an old broad like me?" Gloria sat at their usual table and shook her head, irritated by her friend.

"Well, now that you mention it, he was younger. I'm not saying that you've lost your -- glow. I'm simply saying that now that I've seen it in another light, I may have misjudged things."

"If you'd take the time to ask, before spreading gossip," she said, insinuating that she'd already told Libby, based on the way the women scoped her out on entering.

Myrtle sighed. "It's my duty to spread the news. You know that. I apologize. I jumped the gun. Forgive me."

Gloria asked for a cup of tea and went on about local news she'd heard.

Libby walked into the kitchen, winked at her daughter, and told her that maybe they should skip talking to the police, but maybe talking to a few others wouldn't hurt.

The bell on the door jingled. Patsy and Viola walked in and settled at their usual table. They were hush-hush, looking around. It seemed the place had taken a hit. It was quieter than normal.

Viola slipped her purse off her shoulder and slid into the booth. "You won't believe what I heard," she whispered to Patsy, looking around. She lowered her voice and nodded toward the other women. "I think they were at both places on both days that the men died. Do you think there's a man-hating society in town we don't know about? Myrtle just might be the leader."

Patsy laughed, and then glanced over at the woman. "I wouldn't put it past her."

Patsy and Viola went way back. They went to knitting circles, book clubs at the library, and ate breakfast most mornings together. Then they'd split up, go about their days and meet up later. They'd both ended up in Spring Valley unexpectedly, and met at a Mahjong group over at the community center in Sugar Hollow. The women aged right along with the town, and were nearing retirement. Their plan was to head to Arizona for warmer winters once they convinced their husbands.

Rosie tilted her head and arched an eyebrow. "Who did you have in mind?"

"I think we should have a talk with Charlie," Libby started. "He heads the business coalition and knows everybody. If somebody was talking, he'd know about it. It can't hurt to see if he's heard anything."

"Sure, but I doubt he'd have heard anything, or the police would already know about it." Rosie plated up Myrtle and Gloria's usual breakfast meal and headed out to the front of the restaurant. She slipped the plates onto the table and asked if they needed anything else. Once the women were happy, Rosie headed back to the counter.

Out of the corner of her eye, a sparkle gleamed. She lost sight of the bright spot when she took a step forward. Backing up, she tried to find the shiny spot again. Rosie stooped lower and scanned the area for something that didn't want to be found. When she caught a glimpse of the shiny object, her eyes flew open wide. She didn’t want to touch it, and called to her mother instead. "Mom, call Sheriff Snyder. I might have found an important clue."

Myrtle and Gloria jumped from their table and scooted over to where Rosie was crouched down. "What is it?"

"Don't touch," Rosie said and swatted toward them. Myrtle's hand was already on the way to pick it up. "I'm not sure, but this is where Peyton Darling was sitting when he fell over."

Libby dialed the phone when Sheriff Snyder walked in. He picked up his phone and answered. "Sheriff Snyder."

"It's Libby Sage. Hang up the phone." She looked straight ahead at him.

"What's going on? Why are you calling me? Can I get a couple of eggs over easy with  two slices of crisp bacon, and a side of toast? In fact, add a double order of those hash browns you do so well, and a cup of coffee." Sheriff Snyder settled on a counter stool. He noticed the women staring at him. "What?"

"Come see," Rosie said. "I think we found something here. It could be related to the case."

Sheriff Snyder bent closer to have a look. "Well, I'll be. That's one of those fancy darts I've read about." He took out a handkerchief and scooped up the slender object, wrapping it up for evidence. "About those eggs?"

The women looked at him incredulously. Wasn't he going to send it to evidence or take a closer look… anything but sit and eat breakfast? It felt more urgent than how he treated it. Rosie bit her tongue, realizing that Sheriff Snyder did things his way, in his own good time, and this wasn't her investigation.

Libby drew a deep breath, forcing herself to remain quiet. She wanted to blow deep, heated fire on him via words, but thought better of it and took her frustrations back to the kitchen to make his breakfast.

Myrtle on the other hand, for good or bad, blurted out what everyone was thinking. "Why are you sitting on your bum, when you could very well have an important clue? Two men died in this town, and your laissez-fare attitude does
not
set well with me."

Gary Snyder was generally a patient man. Once in a while. But today, before he had enough coffee in his system, the last thing he wanted was to listen to an old, nosy broad get in his face. He growled at her and then barked like a dog.

Myrtle jumped back, startled by the man's reaction. "Why, I never!" Myrtle went back to her table, whispering less than desirable things about the man to her friend Gloria.

Patsy and Viola laughed amongst themselves at the moment. Did the sheriff really growl and bark?