Mousse, Moscato & Murder

by Jamie Lee Scott

  She cocked her head and looked at me like I was stupid.

  Alan Ballic, duh. Why did I even bother to ask? “Is he working this today?”

  “All available off-duty officers are working. They are going to gather us soon to give us the information they have, tell us what they want, and how to communicate.”

  My stomach churned. I should have grabbed at least a cup of coffee before I left the house.

  “What I’m really curious about is how I didn’t know about it,” I said. “My feelings are kind of hurt.”

  Saylor put her arm over my shoulder and led me to the main group of people. “They worked all night, and this was set up early this morning. Alan left my house before the sun came up. He called me right before I called you and asked if I wanted to participate.”

  “Thanks for thinking of me,” I said and leaned into her as we walked.

  She hugged my shoulders. “I wouldn’t want to do it without you.”

  “Sure are a lot of people for a last minute gathering,” I said.

  “It only takes a few phone calls, and the chain reaction starts,” Saylor said, looking over at the gathering crowd.

  “What about your business?”

  Saylor ran a very successful real estate office. She’d worked by herself for years, and had finally brought two other realtors into the fold a few years back. Still, it wasn’t like her to not be in the office on a weekday.

  “Don has it handled. He did a lot for me while I was gone over the Christmas holiday. Granted, it was the slowest time of year, but he was great. I’m trying to let go a little and give up control.”

  I smirked. “And how’s that going for you?”

  She dropped her arm from around my shoulder and stepped away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  We both laughed, then remembered where we were, and why we were there. I looked down in shame and stood on the periphery of the crowd.

  John and Chief Whatshername stepped onto a park table.

  “Most of you know who we are, but I’m Sheriff John Waters, and this is my chief deputy, Alan Ballic. We are here today with Pear Chief of Police Anita Hicks. Rest assured, we have a group of detectives investigating the disappearance of Rebecca Roundhouse, but we need your help. If you have any information you want to give us, we’re happy to listen, and Assistant Chief Paul Edelman will be taking any statements.”

  I looked at Paul. They couldn’t have picked a more intimidating person to have to talk to. A former Marine, he still had the sharp look, the high and tight haircut, and biceps bulging from his short-sleeved uniform shirt. I knew there was a six-pack under that bulky Kevlar vest he wore. The man didn’t have an ounce of fat on him, and he had to be at least in his mid-forties. It had been a few years since I’d seen him get out of the pool at the YMCA, but he still looked to be just as fit.

  Anita stepped in and started talking about teams and grids. “We want groups of six, and we have a flashlight, crowbar, and walkie-talkies for the group leaders, since not everyone will have an officer with a radio with them.”

  She’d just finished her speech about the grids and how to search when the Vendredi Winery van pulled up. Hattie’s foreman, Manuel, was driving, and his right-hand man Julio was in the passenger seat. When the side door opened, Hattie jumped out.

  Dressed in her regular running attire of skin tight Lycra and a razorback shirt with a bright sports bra, she walked up to John and stood on the tiptoes of her running shoes to whisper in his ear. Then she stepped back and John whispered in Anita’s ear.

  Anita handed John the bullhorn.

  “Hattie Friday and Vendredi Winery have generously brought us bottled water and snacks. Everyone grab a bottle and snack pack on your way to your specified grid. If you haven’t picked a team, please see Deputy Ballic, and he’ll get you set up with a team and a grid.”

  John turned the podium back over to Anita, who gave us detailed directions so we would be organized and safe.

  Deputy Ballic organized the groups as if he’d done this many times before. I wondered if they had practice training for this kind of thing. He set up the groups, handed out the flashlights, walkie-talkies and crowbars, and made sure we understood where our grids were located.

  “Are the crowbars for hitting someone over the head?” Saylor asked Alan.

  He looked at her for a second before answering. “They are for opening locked doors or prying something.”

  I was sure his delay in answering was because he was looking for a way to answer without sounding condescending. He failed.

  “Well, excuse me, Mr. Cop Man,” Saylor huffed and walked away.

  I snickered. Lover’s quarrel. Saylor’s question was legit, though. We were looking for a missing person. They sure as heck weren’t going to give us a gun or Taser to protect ourselves if we came across her abductor.

  I tried to do a head count and came up with over two hundred people. Wow, what an awesome community we had. And…didn’t any of these people have jobs? Or had they taken time off to help? Maybe, like Bob, they could work swing or night shift. Not that Bob really did do that.

  Our final group included Saylor, Hattie, Alan and me. And at the last minute, Peter and Jacob arrived to join us.

  “Who is managing Vendredi?” I asked.

  “Oleg and Gina came in on their day off. They didn’t want to find the body…I mean, if there is one, so they volunteered to work lunch so we could help,” Peter said.

  Jacob walked over to the van and loaded up his arms with water bottles and snack packs. He came back over to the group and handed them out to each of us, then we climbed into Alan’s SUV and headed to our grid. It was a tight squeeze, but no one complained.

  I’ll be honest: I’d rather be trying to find a needle in a haystack. There was very little talking as we stood arm’s length apart and scanned the grid we were assigned to. No one complained about the amount of ground we covered, and even though no one said it, I didn’t think we wanted to be the ones to find Becca. But if we did, we’d want her to be alive. We wanted to feel like we weren’t too late.

  We’d been assigned an area with lots of trees, so we stayed close to make sure we covered every inch, but we had to split up a little to get around the trees. At one point, we had to cross a shallow creek. I was glad I had my trail running shoes on until we got to the water. My feet got soaked, and I could feel blisters starting to form. We did end up using the crowbar to take the cover off of a cistern we came across, and pry up a few rocks. Moving the rocks didn’t make sense to me, but Alan insisted. Maybe there was evidence under them, or they’d been moved to cover a shallow grave?

  It was six hours after the search started that we got the call. Becca had been found. More precisely, her body had been found.

  When the news came over Alan’s radio, you could have heard the wings of a hummingbird. I think we all held our breath as we waited for the details. But the only detail was that she’d been found and that she was dead.

  As quiet as it was on the way to search, the silence was deafening on the drive back to the park.

  When we arrived, at least half of the search crews were already there. The mood was somber, and I could hear crying. I had to tell myself, in through the nose, out through the mouth to keep from holding my breath, which caused tears to well up in my eyes.

  In her terse manner, Chief Hicks didn’t even thank the volunteers as she practically shoved them back to their cars and shooed them away. “Okay, it was a horrible ending, but now you need to get out of the way and go home. The police will continue their investigation.”

  She repeated this at least fifty times before Alan’s crew were the last men standing. Hattie’s employees walked around the park with Peter, Saylor, Hattie and me, picking up discarded snack packs empties and water bottles.

  “Ungrateful jerks,” Hattie said quite loud.

  “Right?” Saylor said. “Free food and water, and they have the nerve to litter.”

  Hattie stopped in
her tracks. “That’s bad enough, but the new police chief isn’t making any friends. Have you once heard her say thank you?”

  Peter said, “To be honest, she sounded annoyed from the time I got here.”

  Chief Hicks’ stride was long as she walked up behind Peter. “Are you about finished here?”

  I think I saw Hattie’s ears explode as the steam poured out. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

  “Excuse me?” She didn’t sound like she hadn’t understood.

  “All of these people took time out of their day to do your job. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a LEO as ungrateful and nasty as you are. How on earth did the city council find you? And even worse, what possessed them to appoint you? You might be fine for a metropolis, but Pear prefers its cops to have empathy, compassion, and manners. It appears you lack all three.”

  The chief’s ears turned red, along with her face and neck.

  Manuel said, “Ready to go, Hattie?”

  Hattie turned away from Chief Hicks long enough to say, “Go on back to the winery. I’ll get a ride.”

  Manuel and Julio left as quickly as their feet would move without running. They knew a brawl coming when they saw it. I was sure they were laying bets on who was going to win before they got back to the winery.

  I was fixed in place, like someone watching a disaster. I wanted to give three cheers for Hattie.

  “Once again, excuse me? I have no idea who you are, and I don’t appreciate you assessing my character when you don’t know me, either. So you might want to finish up here before I have you arrested for loitering.” The chief turned on her heel and walked off.

  I heard Hattie whisper something under her breath, but no way was I going to say, “What was that, Hattie?”

  Hattie’s movements slowed to a snail’s pace. She was daring the chief to arrest her.

  I looked over my shoulder to the law enforcement vehicles. Alan stood close to John, not exactly whispering, but having a word. He had walked away in the middle of Chief Hicks’ speech.

  Alan got in his vehicle and drove away. I was surprised he didn’t come back to say goodbye to Saylor.

  “That’s not going to be a good situation for that lady. And I do use the work ‘lady’ tongue in cheek.” Saylor had sidled up next to me and was looking in the same direction I was.

  “I really don’t think she knows who Hattie is. And I have never in my time in the Friday family ever heard Hattie say, ‘Do you know who I am?’ Ruth might say it, but not Hattie.”

  “Or Tippy,” Saylor said.

  “Yes, Tippy would have had no problem making sure the chief knew who she was.” I smiled at the memory of Tippy. She was a bear, but she had been Hattie’s best friend.

  “Oh, no.” Saylor blatantly pointed to John and Chief Hicks.

  I grabbed Saylor’s hand and pulled her arm back down. No need to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves.

  From John’s body language, Chief Hicks was getting an earful. I don’t think she had any idea the amount of clout Hattie had with the city council. Hattie had never overstepped, but she certainly did everything she could for Pear. Donations, fundraisers, you name it. Hattie wasn’t stingy with the town she loved. And they loved her back. All except for Chief Hicks, that is. Maybe Hattie’s name should have been in the introduction manual. That thought made me chuckle silently.

  The chief looked in our direction, a sour grimace on her face. I didn’t think she was used to eating crow. And I also didn’t think she was going to start now.

  “Who do you think is going to have jurisdiction over Becca’s investigation?” I asked Saylor.

  “Do I look like a law enforcement expert to you?” She was still enthralled by the scene playing out.

  “No, but you could always ask Alan.”

  “I could.” Saylor grabbed her bottle of water off the picnic table, twisted the cap off and took a very long sip. “I’d better stop by my office. See you later.” And she walked away.

  Peter and I waited with Hattie until Chief Hicks left the park. No way were we going to walk away and let her think she’d won this battle. There shouldn’t have even been a battle. I looked at my watch, then at the sky. It would be dark in a few hours, and I hadn’t gotten a thing done for work. Not that my studio didn’t have lights, it’s just that I’d lost so much of the day. In the end, it wouldn’t have mattered, because Becca had been gone long before we started searching. My heart ached as I thought about how that could have been my daughter.

  “Come on, Mom, I’ve got to head out. I still have to work tonight,” Peter touched his mother’s elbow lightly.

  “My day has been a total waste, but it doesn’t have to be for nothing. I need to make a pit stop before going back to the house. Why don’t you head out with Jacob, and I’ll go home with Willa?” Hattie sounded distracted.

  Since the Vendredi Winery van had left at least thirty minutes earlier, Peter would have been Hattie’s ride. I didn’t want to be in the same car with her for five minutes, much less all the way home. Not after what had just happened. But it had been settled, I’d be Hattie’s chauffeur.

  Once Peter and Jacob were out of earshot, Hattie said, “I need you to drop me by the newspaper office before we head home.”

  “Are you sure they’re still open?” I asked.

  “I’ll just call one of the editors if they aren’t.”

  Chapter Six

  I’d slept better, even though my mind was restless when I went to bed. It had just taken a while to shut my mind off so I could fall asleep. I was in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, when my phone rang. It was Peter.

  I answered by saying, “You didn’t make coffee this morning.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I woke up late,” he said.

  “I’m kidding. I don’t care. What’s up?”

  “Have you been online?” he asked.

  “No, I just dragged myself to the kitchen for coffee.”

  “You won’t believe what my mom did. Go on Facebook and look up the Pear Post’s page.”

  “What am I looking for?”

  “Just look it up and call me back.” Peter hung up.

  I put my phone down and poured myself a cup of coffee. I added cream, then took my cup and phone to the kitchen table and opened my laptop.

  Peter had sounded amused and mad at the same time.

  I logged onto my Facebook account and keyed in the search for the Pear Post’s page. I scrolled down past the photos and business stuff to the first post.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had to read it twice.

  Yesterday, several hundred people assembled to help look for the missing woman, Rebecca Roundhouse.

  Vendredi Winery was generous enough to donate bottled water and meals for the volunteers who had gathered to search for Rebecca’s body, and the Friday family also helped in the search. Our community all knows how generous the Friday family has been over the years.

  There was great hope that Rebecca would be found alive, but alas, it wasn’t meant to be. After several hours of searching, Rebecca’s body was found. But that isn’t the story.

  The real story is that these few hundred folks who took time out of their lives to search for the missing girl. A girl many of them didn’t even know. And they didn’t even get so much as a thank you from the city’s new chief of police, Anita Hicks. In fact, our newly appointed chief seemed put out from the start. And when the volunteers returned to the park, she rushed them away like they were an annoyance, even threatening Hattie Friday, telling her she’d get arrested for loitering. Not a good way to start her career in our little town. The people who gave her a job can also take that job away. But apparently the chief isn’t a people person. Who knew?

  I nearly spit my coffee across the table. So that’s what Hattie had wanted with the editor of the paper. She knew it was too late to make the weekly paper, but not the internet. Social media was a quick slap on the back of the hand these days.


  I spent the next ten minutes sipping my coffee and reading the comments. Sadly, the trolls and cop haters were out in force. Many expressed their condolences for Rebecca Roundhouse and her family. Maybe one in twenty-five comments were positive and backed the chief. The overwhelming sentiment was that the community and the cops needed to work together, and that the volunteers were heroes in their own way. The people on Facebook thanked the volunteers to make up for what the chief hadn’t done.

  Depression was setting in as I sat there. I could feel it coming over me like a fog. I closed my laptop and went back to my bedroom. My bed was calling my name. Come on back. The sheets are still warm, and it won’t matter if you sleep for a few more hours. Come on, Willa.

  I ignored it, grabbed clean clothes from my dresser, and didn’t look back as I went to take a shower.

  On the way into town, I considered eating somewhere other than The Bent Fork. I imagined it would be busy with reporters and possibly the police. I needed to stay far away from this murder. It was bad enough that the chief and Hattie had butted heads. I didn’t need to put my nosy self in the middle of everything.

  I had a craving for sugar, and I wanted a white coffee drink. Maybe a Salted Caramel Brûlée. It was a delicious specialty coffee, made with white coffee bean espresso, half and half, and salted caramel, topped with real whipped cream, sea salt, and caramel. My mouth watered just thinking about it.

  I’d made up my mind by the time I got to the corner of Main Street. I drove around the block and was easily able to park in the lot. Not so busy after all.

  I walked in and seated myself at my favorite table by the window. I looked to Bob’s booth and saw it was empty. I still had his book in my purse. I had yet to take a really good look at it. It was probably just a book.

  A young girl I hadn’t seen before came up to my table with a forced smile. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her face blotchy red. “Hi, what can I get you today?”

  I placed my order and thanked her.

  I heard her sniff as she turned away.

  I looked around to see if I could find Vicki. I wondered if anyone had talked to her about Becca. By now, everyone had to know she was dead. But had the police questioned her? As I was scanning the place, I saw Hattie walk in.