by C A Phipps
To his credit, Nate patiently waited while she shoved the door in a particular place where it stuck, and then they were inside. Sam ran up the steps behind them, stalling as he entered.
The walls and surfaces were clean, as was the floor. A person could be forgiven for not noticing these things above the faded, peeling, wallpaper, drooping curtains, second or third-hand furnishings, and cracked linoleum. 12 Berry Lane was a sorry sight indeed.
Scarlett stood tall, pretending nothing was amiss. It was the only way she knew to be when life threatened to get the better of her. “Where would you like to start?”
Nate glanced around. His eyebrows disappeared beneath his hair. “The kitchen, I think.”
Trying to ignore the way they took in every detail, she began to chatter. “We hardly bake anything here these days. The kitchen at the café is much more user friendly and has modern appliances which, as you can see, we don’t have in the house.”
He whipped out his notepad. “So, all the food for the shop is cooked there?”
She nodded. “Apart from the odd one, even our test bakes are done there.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll just take a look anyway.” He didn’t wait for her approval before opening drawers and cupboards, including the one that hung crookedly from a broken hinge.
“Would you mind if I started dinner?” It would give her something else to focus on.
“Go right ahead. I’ll try not to get in your way.”
Scarlett washed her hands, totally aware of the men in the house. Men who watched her in different ways. Nate’s look was filled with curiosity and questions. Sam’s seemed almost pitying. She didn’t want or need that, but she allowed him to peel the potatoes she pulled out from the pantry, without being asked.
Having him work beside her wasn’t exactly soothing, but it wasn’t bad either.
“I’m going to take a look at the rest of the house,” Nate informed her.
It wasn’t a question, and Scarlett cringed at the thought of him in her bedroom, then turned back to Sam, admiring the uniform way he cubed the potatoes and other vegetables she had ready. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind. It’s good for the hands to be busy so the mind can concentrate elsewhere.”
Scarlett looked down the hall. “I think so too.”
Adding browned chicken pieces to the vegetables in a large casserole dish, she poured in her homemade stock, then placed it carefully in the oven.
“I have to know what Nate’s doing in there,” she told Sam before creeping down the short hall.
The sheriff stood in the middle of her mom’s bedroom, which was now Scarlett’s. He seemed lost in thought. Then he headed to the window and tugged on the sash. The locks on these were stiff, and they didn’t budge. Next, he checked the corners of the room and under her bed. Lastly, he opened her wardrobe.
“Do you honestly think I would put poison in there?”
He jumped and smacked his head on the hanging rod, snapping it in two. The few clothes she hung there dropped onto him, and he clutched them to either side of his face like a curtain.
“Did I scare you?” With arms on her hips she nodded at the mess. “I hope you’re not going to leave it like that.”
Sam peering over her shoulder, chuckled at the sheriff, and leaned against the wall with a smug expression.
Despite her bravado, she was a little shaken. The rod may not be much, but it had been usable. Broken in two, it wasn’t fit for more than kindling. Violet may be able to fix it, but there were plenty more things needing attention that were more important.
Nate handed her the clothes and looked at the two ends that resembled broken teeth. “I’ll get you a new one.”
Scarlett didn’t want charity, but she did need that rod. She swallowed hard. “Thank you. Meanwhile, I can hang them in Ruby’s room. Have you been in there?”
“I’m not sure whose rooms they are, but yes, I’ve had a good look at the other two.”
“So you’re done checking the house?”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“You don’t want to check the shed out the back?”
He gave her a funny look and shared another with Sam. “I guess I should while I’m here. To be thorough.”
They must think she was such an idiot. After not wanting Nate here at all, she’d actually suggested another way to detain him! Who was the most confused—her or them?
She led Nate through the house and out the back door. “Actually, there’s no lock on the shed because there’s nothing in there but a tired lawnmower. Good luck to the person who wants to take that.” Flippancy was all she had right then.
The back yard was in even more of a tangle, apart from several raised gardens that were tidy, weeded, and prolific. Fruit trees were also abundant, and the chicken run was well maintained. She took a little pride in these things, and now that Nate was nearly done, she didn’t feel as stressed. Perhaps it was that neither he nor Sam didn’t seem as judgmental as she’d imagined they might be.
Unfortunately, that all changed in a matter of moments.
Inside the door sat a container of poison. At least, with a skull and crossbones on the front, that’s undoubtedly all it could be. A black rat lower down confirmed it.
Her heart sank while her face flamed, and her palms clutched at her hips once more. “That is not ours.”
Nate searched her face for the longest time. “I believe you,” he said quietly.
While that helped a little, her heart still sank. “But it makes no difference, right?”
He shrugged. “Not at this moment. I don’t know who bought it or put it there, but I have to include it as evidence.”
She gulped. “Are you arresting me?”
“I can’t promise that won’t happen down the track, but I don’t feel the need to do so right now. Tests will be done to find out if this could be the poison on Mable. I’ll also dust for fingerprints around and on the container before I take it away. I also have to insist that you don’t open the café tomorrow. And this is something I would say to anyone in a similar situation—don’t leave town.”
Her relief was so short-lived. “We’re not about to go anywhere, but we must open. We need the money.” Even to her ears, she sounded desperate.
A raised eyebrow stopped her from pleading.
“Scarlett, this is very serious. I can’t have the café open when potentially your food is in question.”
“Right.” She couldn’t say more, because her whole world was crashing around her. It wasn’t the first time, but it felt almost as bad as when her mom got diagnosed with breast cancer, followed by the subsequent highs and lows of her treatment.
He twisted his hat several times. “This is going to sound awful, but it can’t be helped. I’ll drop off those books for Ruby instead of you coming by on Saturday.”
“I guess you can’t have suspected felons in your house. What would people think?” She ignored the guilty expression and left him to do what he needed, going inside to finish dinner preparations. Even though she wasn’t even slightly hungry, her sisters needed to eat, and it gave her something to do with her hands.
Plus, she needed time to find a way to tell them what she was sure was going to be common knowledge sooner than she’d like.
Chapter Eight
Arriving home at the same time, George on their heels, Ruby and Violet were hot and tired, so Scarlett waited until they’d eaten and showered. George curled up in the corner on his makeshift bed of an old blanket. The silence grew as she washed the dishes, Violet dried, and Ruby put them away.
They were as close as sisters could be, which meant nothing slipped by them for long. While they tried to give each other space to talk only when they were ready, Violet finally cracked.
“If you don’t tell us what’s on your mind, I swear we’ll be forced to beat it out of you.”
Scarlett sighed at the attempted joke and dried her hands. “Come and sit at th
e table.”
Ruby chewed a hangnail. “This sounds bad.”
Scarlett pulled the dainty hand away and held it on the table. “I wish I didn’t have to say this. It feels like a bad dream, and I don’t understand how it could have happened. Mable had a piece of cake in her mouth—with poison on it.”
“What the heck?” Violet cried.
Scarlett held up her other hand to stop whatever might pour forth. This was hard enough. “Naturally, we are suspects, so the sheriff came around to search our house and . . .”
“Suspects? Us? And you let him come in here?” Violet’s eyes could not have opened any wider.
“We are, and I did,” Scarlett nodded. "But . . .”
“Oh, no!” Ruby looked at their surroundings in despair.
Scarlett followed her gaze, feeling a pang at how their mom’s illness had affected every aspect of their lives. Everything that had been worth something was sold. What they were left with was well worn and sad looking. Yet, they had a roof over their heads, somewhere warm to sleep and food to eat. For now.
“Ruby, Violet! Just listen, would you? Nate coming inside the house is not the only thing I have to tell you.”
That stopped both of them in their tracks as if they couldn’t imagine anything worse. Scarlett wiped her palms on her jeans. Several times.
“Nate found poison in our shed.”
“Our shed? There’s nothing in there except feed for the chickens and gardening tools,” Ruby protested.
Violet nodded. “And the ancient lawnmower.”
Scarlett shook her head sadly. “He found a container of rat poison. Potentially the same kind that killed Mable.”
Ruby’s bottom lip quivered. “I don’t understand. How is that possible when we don’t have stuff like that? Everyone knows that we couldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Not everyone. Some people in town don’t know us at all,” Scarlett said softly.
“Nate does.” Violet blanched. “Surely he doesn’t think we’re capable of that?”
Scarlett saw her horror. If Violet was sweet on Nate, naturally, she would see this as a barrier. The Finch women certainly didn’t need any more of those. This business was bad enough without Violet freaking out.
“He said he doesn’t, but as the sheriff, Nate’s got a job to do, and he’ll want to be thorough. Only by doing that can he eliminate us as suspects.” While she was laying it on the line, she added the next bit of unsavory news. “Now, it’s not a certainty that Mable didn’t die another way, but this means that we can’t open the café until that happens.”
Violet stood purposefully, looking so much like their father, Scarlett’s chest ached.
“Good.”
The word shocked Scarlett. “It’s not good at all. This is serious, Vi.”
“True, but if we can’t bake, then we have time to help solve this before things get out of hand.”
“I think it’s already passed that stage,” Ruby murmured.
Violet paced the kitchen. “The word will get out, but maybe not for a while.”
“Are you saying we should start our own investigation?” Scarlett had wondered if she dared look into this. Having Violet think the same way gave her food for thought. They were both excellent at problem-solving, and having that in common was kind of cool.
“I don’t think Nate will like us to interfere,” Ruby protested.
Violet glared at her. “Nate isn’t the one facing a jury of our peers.”
“Hey, we haven’t been accused of anything yet.” Scarlett slapped the table to stop any bickering. “Still, it’s not like Cozy Hollow has a vast sheriff’s department. Manpower is bound to be lacking. If we get onto this first thing tomorrow, perhaps this can be solved earlier than the sheriff might be able to accomplish on his own.
“Exactly and the sooner we ask our own questions, the better,” Violet agreed.
“I’m not sure if we should all be involved.” The truth was while appreciating she’d done wrong with the whole letter fiasco, Scarlett did have a couple of ideas she wanted to follow through—she just didn’t want her sisters involved when it could be dangerous.
Violet snorted. “So, you’d rather just wait and see if anyone else comes forward to say they’re the one who killed Mable?”
“Don’t be clever. I know that won’t happen, but we have to trust Nate to find whoever is trying to ruin our name.”
“And how is he going to do that? Unless he searches every place in and around town, the only evidence was found at our house.”
This rattled Scarlett. Violet made a lot of sense, but she could be hot-headed. The last thing Scarlett wanted was to alienate the town by harassing them. “I don’t know how Nate will solve the case, but he’s a decent cop, and he won’t stop looking just because he found poison here.”
“If his bosses think he doesn’t need to look elsewhere, then his hands may be tied. I’m not going to sit around feeling this impending doom indefinitely.” Violet sniffed.
They could all be stubborn in different ways, and it was clear that Violet wasn’t about to let this lie. The choices were to leave Violet to her own devices, which gave them a 50 percent chance of having to leave town, assuming they weren’t doing time, or they could work together. “What clues do we have?”
“There’s the letter Mable wrote.” Ruby had clearly also made her choice.
Scarlett grimaced but wrote it on the notepad Violet solemnly handed her. “Nate came to search for a poison because of the cake in Mable’s mouth. Plus our cupcakes were in her refrigerator. I saw a cupcake wrapper, and it looked like ours. The rest of the cupcakes are no doubt being tested, so I guess the result will be a better indication that we’re being set-up for something. Maybe that should be number 1 on the list?”
“Hmm. How many?” Violet asked.
Ruby frowned. “What do you mean?”
“If there was poison in all the cakes, then why aren’t any other members of the committee sick? Unless she was the only one to eat them. Which begs the question, why weren’t they eaten? Because we know the ones we sent were amazing to look at and to taste.”
“That’s right,” Ruby noted with excitement. “Sam trialed one, and then took another with him. He said they were delicious.”
Scarlett nodded. “And he’s very much alive. Those are great questions, Violet. Also, how would the poison get in the cakes? They went from the bakery to the meeting in a container. No one had access to them.”
Violet stared wide-eyed at her sisters. “Since they didn’t eat them right away, that gave the killer time to add poison. That person must be a committee member!”
After taking a moment for this to sink in, Ruby grabbed Scarlett’s shoulder. “Who was at the meeting and had the inclination and the chance to poison Mable?”
Warming to the task, Scarlett imagined the group as she’d seen them. “Arthur and Mable were in cahoots, so I guess that rules him out.”
“You mean in wanting the café to fail?” Ruby asked.
Again, this was something they felt rather than knew for sure, but Scarlett nodded. “That and they both had deep-seated reasons for disliking us. Or felt like they did.”
A shadowy figure entered the kitchen from the back door. Violet wheeled and snatched up the closest thing, which happened to be a large spatula.
“Sorry, the door was open, and I did knock on the front one,” Nate apologized, a hand raised to defend himself, eyes twinkling at Violet and the all but useless utensil.
Violet moved away but didn’t let go of her weapon.
“What are you doing back here so soon?” Scarlett wasn’t sure how much he’d heard, and her words came out as an accusation.
He merely smiled politely. “I’ve managed to speak to a few people already, but I needed to talk to Violet and Ruby.”
“Oh.” Her manners finally clicked in. “Please take a seat.”
Ruby and Violet paled as Nate between them. Scarlett didn’t move. Her sisters weren’t
going to deal with the sheriff without her.
Nate pulled at his notebook, raising an eyebrow at the one in front of Scarlett. “Please carry on that line of thought about Arthur and Mable.”
She grimaced. So Nate had heard. But how much? Hopefully, not their tacit agreement to find the murderer. Another knock at the door interrupted them, and since she was the closest, Violet answered it.
The sight of Sam caused Scarlett’s heart to sing. A friendly face. Or at least one that didn’t have to be unbiased.
“Sorry to stop by unannounced again. I saw your car Nate, and wondered if I could help with anything.”
“I can’t imagine how,” Nate growled. “This is police business around the murder.”
Scarlett stood. The conversation might get unpleasant and personal, but for some reason, she felt calmer with Sam there. “I’d like him to stay. If that’s okay with everyone?” The last was an afterthought to include her sisters. She needn’t have worried.
“Sure. If we’re going to air our dirty laundry, why not have the paramedic here to help the poor helpless females,” Violet glared.
“That’s not what I meant,” Sam blustered, already backing away.
Ruby shot out of her chair and grabbed his arm, pulling him to the table. “Violet doesn’t mean to be rude. We’re naturally upset, and the three of us handle it in different ways.”
He didn’t seem convinced, so Scarlett pulled up another chair. “Please stay. Only if you don’t mind, Nate?”
Not looking particularly happy about the outcome, he shrugged, “I guess it’s, okay, as long as you appreciate this could get personal?”
Violet ungraciously returned to her seat. “I guess it can’t hurt, and it’s already personal.”
Everyone looked uneasy, so Scarlett decided to wade in and get this over with—like pulling a Band-Aid off. One big breath and. . .
“Let’s start with Arthur. It’s just gossip and things I remember from that time. We were all a lot younger, so I don’t know if it’s all relevant.”
