He had a point there.
“I am broadening my suspect pool however,” Tucker added. “Did you see the new car Helen Taylor is driving around town?”
“I did.”
“Tell me an insurance salesman can afford something like that.”
I watched Tucker slather butter on his third garlic crusted dinner roll and wondered how in the world he didn’t weigh five hundred pounds. I also knew Tucker would think Helen Taylor’s new car something to do with the murder of Mr. Nettle. I kept quiet. No need to argue with him once he’d made up his mind. Besides, he had more experience in investigating murders than I did.
“You still think I’m wrong about all of this, don’t you?” he asked, that familiar sexy grin spreading across his handsome face.
“I have my own opinions,” I told him.
“And you’re keeping them to yourself? That’s a first,” he teased.
I shrugged.
“And the fact that you’re not talking scares me just a little bit,” he added.
Chapter Thirteen
“I feel like a ninja,” Poppy said.
Dressed head to toe in black, she dropped into a crouch, made some sort of growling sound, chopped the air with the sides of her hands and then kicked out at an invisible enemy. It was her advice that we should dress in the darkest clothes we had to keep from being seen. Part of me wondered if she had some experience in this she wasn’t sharing with me.
I, on the other hand felt like a Ninja Turtle. I simply stared at my reflection in the mirror and kept my mouth shut. All I could think about was getting into the mayor’s office to find out what was on his calendar.
Bundling up in coats, hats and gloves, we started down the stairs. Poppy reached the bottom, turned and faced me. “Could you be quieter?” she hissed. “You sound like a herd of buffalo.”
“We haven’t even left for the mayor’s office. Why do I have to be quiet here?” I asked.
Poppy shook her head, eased open the back door and looked both ways before stepping out into the cold dark night. She was really getting into this ninja thing.
Instead of our normal route, we stuck to the snow covered back streets downtown. They were treacherous and we had to hold onto each other to keep from falling. And where there wasn’t ice, snow was practically knee deep. By the time we reached the back of the building where the mayor’s office was located, my face was frozen.
“I wish we’d worn ski masks,” Poppy whispered, her breath pluming out in front of her, enhanced by the darkness.
“I don’t own a ski mask,” I assured her, my face so cold it felt like it was going to break.
Poppy groaned as we hurried across the small parking lot that had only recently been plowed. Unfortunately, that snow was piled against the building.
“Look how deep the snow is.”
Yet another obstacle between me and that calendar. We’d just have to dig some of the snow to get to the window. Unfortunately, I hadn’t brought along a snow shovel so all we had were our hands. Once, closer to the window, I noted something that made me eager to dig even faster.
“The window isn’t locked,” I told Poppy, filled with new energy.
“How do you know?” she asked, pausing to look at the window.
“It’s open about an inch. Look.” I said and pointed.
“Darcy,” she said. “She leaves this window open to keep the cigarette smoke out of the office.”
“And that tells us there isn’t an alarm system, at least in this part of the building,” I muttered and began digging again.
Once we’d made a dent in the snow, we discovered another dilemma. The window was maybe three or four inches above our heads. Short of one of us lifting the other up, there was no way we could get inside.
“Now, what, Sherlock?” Poppy asked. “If you think I’m lifting you...”
I shook my head. “Give me a minute. There’s bound to be something around here to stand on.”
“After we dig it out,” Poppy snapped, walking around in a small circle and clapping her hands together to get warm.
I walked further down the building, kicking at the snow bank, nearly falling when my foot connected with something solid. A little digging told me it was a big flower pot. In the spring, it would be filled with petunias, in the fall it was filled with colorful mums. At that moment, it was filled with snow. I continued to dig until I could yank it from the frozen concrete and then rolled it toward Poppy.
“Perfect,” Poppy said, jumping in to help when she realized what I’d found.
Within minutes, the flower pot was upside down right under the partially open window. All we had to do was stand on it, push the window open wide enough to get inside and climb over the sill.
And that’s where Poppy was when a shaft of light appeared across the parking lot and the back door to the police station opened. I heard voices, male voices and laughter.
“The cops,” I hissed.
There was a soft thunk as Poppy dropped back onto the flower pot, jumped off and flattened herself against the building beside me. I held my breath, my heart pounded in my chest and wished I could disappear.
“Tucker, man, you need to get some sleep,” one of them called out as their laughter died down.
Tucker was there, his unmistakable shadow looming in the doorway. “Lots to think about, guys.”
“Well, we’re on your side,” Andy Sykes said. “We hope you’ll make the right decision.”
“Hey, maybe you should go talk to Miss Starla about it,” Tommy suggested.
Hearing my own name startled me.
“Yeah, I hear you spend a lot of time at the Dixie Cupp,” Andy teased.
That brought more laughter.
“A man’s gotta eat,” Tucker said. Car doors slammed and engines roared to life. “Be safe out there,” Tucker shouted and went back inside.
What was that all about?
I didn’t have much time to think about that because, at the last moment, I wondered what would happen when their headlights found me and Poppy pinned to the side of the building. I closed my eyes and waited to be spotlighted like a deer. I was already trying to decide what to tell them.
We were out for a walk, saw the window open and tried to close it?
Yeah, that would work.
When I dared to peep through my lashes, I saw that they had backed out and turned the other way, missing us completely.
“That was scary,” Poppy whispered.
I let out a breath. “Let’s get this over with.”
She climbed easily onto the upturned flower pot and used both hands to push the window open wider. Darcy evidently used it pretty regularly so it slid up without a sound. And then Poppy disappeared inside. I climbed onto the flower pot when I heard her land on the floor with a thump. Climbing into that window wasn’t the easiest thing I’d ever done but I made it and landed on my bottom just as Poppy jumped out of the way.
“Did you bring a flashlight?” she whispered.
“Uh, no,” I whispered back.
“Well, we can’t turn on any lights,” she argued. “So how did you think we were going to see that calendar?”
“I thought you brought the flashlight.”
“Where would I get a flashlight?”
We’d moved away from the window while the argument continued and then I had another worry. “What if his office door is locked?”
Poppy strode through the darkness to the door, turned the knob and pushed it open. “What if it’s not?”
I followed her inside and stood there for a few moments while my eyes adjusted to this even darker room. Finally, I could see the shadow of his desk and headed that way. At that moment, Tammy Wynette’s voice filled the room. “Stand by your MAN...”
I cringed. Poppy snatched her cell out of her pocket, dropped it and then dived after it while Tammy continued to wail.
I felt like it was going to take her forever to end it but, finally, it was quiet. And then I remembe
red that I did have a flashlight.
“Thanks,” I muttered, reaching for my own phone.
“Sorry,” Poppy said.
I shielded the bright screen with my body, found the flashlight app that came with the phone and turned back toward the desk. Poppy moved between me and the window so, hopefully, no one would see the light.
The mayor’s desk was probably the cleanest one I’d ever seen in my life. Pens and pencils were stowed neatly in matching cups flanked on one side by a stapler and the other by a tape dispenser. But what caught and held my attention was the gigantic blotter calendar in the middle of the desk, gleaming white in the darkness.
I moved close, eagerly shining my light on the white paper. It was completely blank and I groaned.
“What?” Poppy asked.
“It’s blank,” I said, fighting back disappointment. “Completely blank.”
“What!” Poppy peered at the empty calendar
“How could that be?” I moaned looking around the dark room.
“I guess he just hasn’t had any meetings or appointments yet this year,” Poppy offered.
“Or he’s keeping them electronically on his phone or something,” I guessed, trying the top drawer of his desk.
“I doubt that,” Poppy said. “I always thought he was a technophobe.”
The drawer opened easily and I looked inside. It was as neat as the top of his desk and nearly empty. Then I tried the top right hand drawer and hit pay dirt. A small, at a glance, flip calendar stared back at me.
“Bingo,” I said, aiming my light in the drawer.
The page was filled with notes, dates and times. Evidently, Mayor Gillespie was a busy man. Reaching in I slowly flipped the pages backward. All of them were filled with meetings and notes. When I reached the date of Mr. Nettle’s death, I stopped and sucked in my breath.
“What?” Poppy demanded from where she stood still blocking my light from the window.
“Oh, my God,” I breathed and touched the page just to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing.
“What?” Poppy hissed insistently.
“Exactly what I needed to know,” I told her. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Not until you tell me,” Poppy snapped.
“Well, evidently our mayor had only one meeting the day Mr. Nettle was killed,” I said. At first I wanted to tear the page out and take it with me and then thought better of it. Tucker would need to see it for himself.
“We already knew that. Remember, he cancelled his meeting with Joe. Who was it?”
“There’s a large ‘H’ filling up most of the page and a note at the bottom.”
Now it was Poppy’s turn to gasp.
“I have to know.”
“What?”
“That’s what the note said,” I explained. “I have to know.”
“Have to know what?”
“How should I know?” I said.
Chapter Fourteen
I called Tucker’s cell before we reached the diner.
“Tucker Ashe,” he said, answering on the first ring.
“Hey, it’s me,” I said.
“Hey, me.”
“Tucker, can you come down to the diner? Poppy and I have made a discovery that is going to break this case wide open,” I told him as we hurried through the darkness.
“Don’t be so sure,” he said with a chuckle. “Where are you? You sound like you’re in a wind tunnel.”
“Um, just taking out the trash,” I lied.
“Well, I made a little discovery myself this afternoon that should tie everything up in a nice little package,” he told me.
I had my doubts but didn’t argue.
“See you in a few,” Tucker said and ended the call.
“I’ll head upstairs and put water on for tea,” Poppy whispered and dashed up the steps.
I nodded my thanks and stood by the back door shivering. While I waited for Tucker to arrive, my thoughts returned to the conversation we’d overheard while trying to break into the mayor’s office. Sounds like he had some kind of a decision to make? Whether to arrest Adam or not? He wouldn’t have to talk to me about that.
Before I had time to think about that much longer, a soft double tap on the door startled me.
“Who is it?” I called out.
“Starla, it’s me,” Tucker answered, his voice muffled. “Were you expecting someone else?”
Giggling, I opened the door and he stepped inside, closing it quickly against the cold. Big, handsome, broad shouldered Tucker filled up the little space at the bottom of the stairs, making it difficult for me to breathe. For a split second, I thought he was going to kiss me and realized that was exactly what I wanted.
So, I did what any woman in my place would do. I turned and ran up the steps. “Poppy’s upstairs making tea. Come on.”
“Okay, so what’s this all about?” Tucker asked, one big hand wrapped around a purple mug. He had raked the other through his dark hair making it stand up straight.
“On the day that Mr. Nettle died, all that was written on the mayor’s calendar was a large H and a note that said ‘I have to know’,” I blurted out.
Tucker looked from one of us to the other and scratched his whiskered chin. “And how do you know this?”
“We saw it,” Poppy cut in. “Well, she saw it,” she added, nodding in my direction.
“You saw the mayor’s calendar? Ladies, I was in his office this afternoon and that calendar on his desk is completely blank.”
“He has another, smaller one in the top drawer of his desk,” I explained and Poppy kicked me under the table.
“I don’t even want to know how you know this, okay? A letter on a calendar with a cryptic note is not enough to blow this case wide open. That H could stand for holiday or health department or...”
“Helen,” I reminded him.
“Okay, so he had a meeting with Helen who evidently has some information for him. How does that involve Mr. Nettle?” Tucker asked, crossing his big arms over his chest.
“I don’t know,” I confessed. “But it has to. I mean, there was a note in his pocket with her name on it.”
“Starla, one of the first things you learn when you become a detective is not to force the clues to fit the crime,” Tucker said. “You investigate and follow the clues, and every one I’ve turned up so far leads straight to Adam and, in turn, Robert Taylor.”
“They didn’t do it,” I said, shaking my head.
“So, you’re thinking Mayor Gillespie?”
I shook my head. “No. The man Poppy and I passed that morning in the park.”
“The man you didn’t recognize?” Tucker asked. “The man who was not carrying a weapon like the one used to kill Mr. Nettle? The man who probably wouldn’t have known Mr. Nettle unless his son had given him a picture?”
“A hit man?” Poppy gasped.
“How would Adam know that Mr. Nettle would be in the park in the middle of a snow storm alone?” I demanded to know.
Tucker shrugged. “He simply watched and followed Mr. Nettle until he caught him alone. Then he took the old man down with one clean, perfectly placed shot and is probably somewhere on a beach right now sipping margaritas.”
“With Adam’s money?”
Tucker nodded. “I haven’t nailed that down quite yet but I did discover something interesting.”
“What?” Poppy asked.
“Adam wasn’t at his office the day his father was killed,” Tucker said. “In fact, no one that I’ve talked to knows exactly where he was. He told his wife one thing, his secretary another, his colleagues something else.”
“Maybe he has a girlfriend. That doesn’t make him a murderer,” I argued.
“Nor does a note on a calendar,” Tucker reminded me, put both hands on my small table and stood up. “Now, it’s late. I have to get some sleep and try to wrap this thing up as soon as I can.”
“Hey, by the way, still going to the Winter Festival with me
?” Tucker asked as I followed him down the narrow steps to let him out the back door.
When I didn’t answer right away, he stopped and I ran right into him.
“Sorry. I forgot you and Joe...”
I shook my head and quickly untangled myself. “No, I don’t have any other plans. I’ll meet you there.”
“Speaking of Joe. He’s actually a pretty good guy, even if he is a northerner,” Tucker said when we reached the bottom of the stairs. “He’s really helped me dig up some good information with his reporter skills and contacts.”
“Good,” I said. Perhaps that was why I hadn’t seen much of him for the past few days - he’d been busy with Tucker.
Even though I hadn’t told him yes, I’d sort of been looking forward to that dinner date as soon as the storm let up. Now I’d never get the chance. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about matching underwear.
When I came back upstairs, carefully locking the door behind me, Poppy was on the phone with Tom. Her tone was soft and loving and every once in a while she would get quiet, her cheeks turning red.
I had to admit it, I was a little envious of my best friend.
Poppy went right to sleep after her phone call. I tossed and turned and slept fitfully, my dreams all mixed up and making no sense at all.
The next morning when Poppy came downstairs to the diner, I had already been up for hours, perfecting my new chocolate mint cupcake recipe. She took one look at the dozens of cupcakes lined up on the cooling rack on the prep table, poured coffee for herself and said, “You’re finally going to start practicing. You have two days.”
“The recipe is good,” I said, ignoring her statement.
“They just look like chocolate cupcakes,” Poppy said with a shrug. Still, she snatched one off of the corner, tore it open and gasped in surprise.
I grinned. “Moist, delicious, chocolate cupcakes.”
“With something, umm, fantastic in the middle,” she added, licking her lips. “How did you do that?”
I held up a fat straw, the kind we use with milkshakes. “I poke this down in the middle, turn it a little bit and then pull it out, taking a plug of chocolate cupcake out with it.”
I demonstrated while I explained.
Peppermint Breath & an Untimely Death Page 9
