Chrissy looked me up and down, narrowing her eyes. I had gone too far. “I don’t really care what it looks like. I just don’t want him. I don’t want anything to do with anything Pamela had. And that’s why I’m going to win the Miss America pageant. Not that it matters that Pamela is there or isn’t there because she just didn’t have what it takes.”
I nodded. “I admire your drive. I always tell my nieces and nephews, that when you want something, work hard for it. Even if it doesn’t look like you’re going to make it, just keep working at it.”
“That’s what my mom always tells me,” she said, relaxing. “I know how to go after something I want. And there’s nothing that will stop me from getting it.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear that. I like to see a young person with a lot of drive.”
“Oh, I’ve got drive. And I’m more determined now than I ever have been to win the state pageant to qualify for Miss America and then win Miss America.”
I looked at Chrissy out of the corner of my eye as I went through more tops on the rack. Like she said, she was driven and she would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. And I wondered if that meant even if she had to eliminate her competition. I had hoped to get more information about Amber or Ryan, but it seemed like what I really got was more information about Chrissy.
Chapter Sixteen
When I finished talking to Chrissy, I decided one more trip to the hardware store was in order. It seemed that no one liked Pamela North, and I was hoping Amber could shed a little more light on the subject. Who else would know the intimate details of a teenaged girl’s life than her best friend?
I headed straight back to the garden department where Amber was finishing up with a customer. I hung back by the rose bushes and waited until she was done.
“Hi there,” I said as she approached me to see if I needed help.
“I remember you,” she said and smiled. “You were asking about tomatoes.”
“Good memory,” I said turning to her. “Guess what? I got the house I was waiting to hear back on. And it’s got a white picket fence and is in need of rosebushes.” The house actually had quite a few rosebushes up along the front, but who didn’t need more rosebushes?
Her eyes lit up. “That’s great news!” she said. “You must be very excited.”
“You have no idea,” I said picking up a pink rosebush. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for this all my life.”
“Now you can have fun growing that garden you wanted,” she said. “Maybe you can put in a fall garden. We carry different plants that do well in the fall.”
“I can hardly wait. A fall garden might be fun. It’ll be awhile yet before I get to move in, but that won’t stop me from planning.”
“Well, ask me anything,” she offered. “What I don’t know I can find out for you.”
I nodded and put the rosebush back down. “I appreciate your help, Amber. Say, Amber, have you heard anything new about your friend that died?”
Her eyes widened for just a moment. “You mean Pamela?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yes, I was just wondering if you had heard anything new? It's bothered me ever since I heard about it. No one deserves to die like that.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she shook her head, looking away for a moment. “I’m sorry. I still can’t believe what happened. But no, I haven’t heard anything new. I hope they catch her killer quickly. I hate thinking they might be out there looking for another victim, but to be honest, it wouldn’t surprise me if it turns out to be a summer tourist.”
I watched her carefully. If she was lying, she was darned good at it. “So, you think it was just a random killing? And the killer might be looking for another victim?”
She looked at me, surprise showing on her face. “Um, no. Well, I don’t know if they’re out there looking for another victim. But everyone loved Pamela and I can’t see it being someone local. I mean, she was going to represent Sparrow at the Miss America pageant.”
“I don’t know, I think I just assumed that whoever did it had something personal against Pamela. I kind of think it was someone that knew her well.” I studied her, looking for anything that might say she wasn’t telling the truth.
Her eyes welled up with tears again. “I hope it was a stranger. I really hope it wasn’t someone she knew. Can you imagine how terrible that would be? Knowing you were about to be killed by someone that you knew, and maybe even loved?” she said.
Amber’s face twisted in pain. She was right—it would be terrible if Pamela knew the killer and knew she was about to die. We still weren’t sure if she was conscious when she was set on fire, but at some point, she had to know something was up.
“That’s true. That would be a terrible fate to suffer.”
She nodded. “If it was someone she knew though, I think it would have been Ryan. She loved him so much. She said it to me all the time. She loved him and thought they would get married someday. But, Ryan was so angry. He blamed her for not being able to go away to college and play football. But the truth was, she wasn’t the one stopping him. It was his mother. She’s disabled and needs assistance. I really think Ryan felt cheated and he couldn’t take it out on his mom, so he took it out on Pamela instead.”
“Took it out on her how?” I asked. This was the second time I’d heard about Ryan and his disabled mother. Resentment may have built up over the years. Maybe he had taken his resentments out on Pamela. I also wondered if it was true that his mother supplied him with alcohol like I’d heard.
“He verbally abused her all the time, telling her she was never going to be Miss America—that she wasn’t pretty enough. Telling her he had better things to do with his time than waste it at pageants,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “I hope I’m wrong. I really do. But the resentment that built up in him was really getting bad. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he’s arrested, but still, I’d rather it be a stranger.”
“I hope it wasn’t him, either. I guess I have to agree with you—it would make me feel better thinking it was a stranger. I hope they find the killer soon.” I studied Amber. She wasn’t an unattractive girl, but she was plain and mousy. Her face was devoid of makeup and her hair hung straight and limp. Standing next to a girl like Pamela or Chrissy might make her feel self-conscious. “I guess I should get going. I didn’t realize it was as late as it is.”
“Well, you let me know if you need any help next time you’re in,” she said, smiling easily.
“Thank you, Amber,” I said and headed toward the exit.
Amber seemed genuine in her distress over Pamela’s death. At least, I hoped it was genuine. But someone somewhere knew something important about Pamela’s death and I was determined to find out who. I had a date with Cade in a few hours, so I needed to head home and take a shower. I hoped he had found out more about Pamela’s murder. The poor girl deserved justice.
Chapter Seventeen
Cade and I were at Stuckey’s and had just placed our order for a large taco pizza. Nearly every table was occupied, and the place was humming with the conversation of hungry customers, but Stuckey’s was always packed. They had the best pizza around.
“So, have you talked to anyone else?” Cade asked, taking a sip of his iced tea while we waited for our pizza.
“Everyone blames everyone else,” I said, winking.
He chuckled. “Welcome to murder solving, 101.”
“If I had to place the blame on someone, I’m still going with Sharon North. It isn’t right to not feel bad about her stepdaughter’s death. She’s clearly jealous of her husband’s and Pamela’s relationship. It’s sad, really. Pamela was young enough when Sharon married her father that she should have been a mother figure to her. Pamela probably would have been delighted to have the female attention and would have looked up to her. But it looks like Sharon was jealous from the start.”
He nodded. “I spoke to her and Edward again. She didn’t elaborate on her relationship with Pamela, but this time I
did get hints of jealousy in some things she said. I think she was holding most of it back with her husband sitting right there with her though.”
I nodded. “Things weren’t good in that household. What else have you learned?” I asked and took a sip of my iced tea.
“I’m still looking into things,” he said, remaining neutral.
“What else was in the trunk? Besides the swimsuit, flip-flops, tent, and barbecue?” I asked, going over the previous list he had given me.
His brow furrowed in thought. “Sunscreen, charcoal, an ice chest with hotdogs, condiments, and assorted sodas. Presumably, the lighter fluid was completely used up on the interior of the vehicle and the killer took the can with them.”
I thought about this. There had to be something in the list of items found in the car that would lead to the killer. “No booze?”
“Not a drop.”
“Nothing more on the bead bracelet?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Her father didn’t recognize it, either. The medical examiner did say she was still breathing when she was set on fire.” He said the last part quietly, glancing to see if the people at the table next to us were paying attention.
My stomach churned. “Oh, how awful,” I groaned. I could hardly stand the thought. I shuddered and looked away. “Then why did she just sit there?”
“We may not have found any booze in the vehicle, but she did have high levels of alcohol and an over-the-counter sleep aid in her system,” he said and took a sip of his iced tea.
“So someone drugged her, put her in the driver’s seat, crashed her into the trees and when that didn’t kill her, set her on fire?” I asked, putting it together.
“That’s the conclusion I came to. She was probably unconscious, or at least drugged enough that she couldn’t escape.”
“I hope she was completely unconscious,” I said quietly.
“Me too,” he said. “Let’s talk about you. Now that I finally convinced you to spend some time with me, tell me why you don’t like me.”
My eyes went wide. “What? Who said I don’t like you?”
“Just a wild guess. You kind of have an attitude when you’re around me. I’m really a nice person once you get to know me,” he said.
I could see the tease in his eyes and I sighed. “I think you’re mistaken. You are an annoying person, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like you. And I’ve never been known to have an attitude around anyone.”
He laughed. “Are you going to elaborate on that? Define Annoying,” he said. “And I don’t believe you about the attitude.”
Cade Starkey was as handsome as they came with his dark brown hair and chiseled features, and I was pretty sure he knew it. That was part of what made him annoying. “Don’t play games with me. You know you’re annoying. You’re also cocky and sure of yourself.”
He chuckled again. “Cocky? I’ll have to work on that. My mother told me to never think too highly of myself. It seems I let that slip somewhere along the way.”
I smiled at him. “Do you have any kids? Ever been married?”
“No to both. I thought I would get married once, but things fell apart and I never met anyone else I thought I’d like to spend the rest of my life with.”
“I’d say it’s sad you’ve been single all your life, but after the experience I had with marriage, I really have to say that you’re probably better off. You didn’t miss a thing.”
He whistled low. “That sounds bad.”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling defensive. “Sometimes you make mistakes. It’s fine, though. I’ve made peace with him.”
“I noticed he’s still in town.”
“I know. He promised he wouldn’t pester me anymore. We got together, he apologized, and everything’s good.” And it was. At least, I was pretty sure it was. But what I really thought was that some things took time to forgive, and it was a decision I would have to make over and over for a while.
“I’m glad to hear it. And I’m glad you decided to go out with me. I feel like I need to make amends for being so annoying and cocky.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “I’ll expect you to work on that.”
He grinned at me. “You’re a tough customer.”
“Did I tell you I’m about to be a homeowner?”
“No, you didn’t tell me that. When did this happen?”
“Just the other day. It’s going through escrow right now. It’s over on the older side of town on Rose Avenue, a cute little 1950s cottage with a huge basement that could be converted into an addition.” I gave him a sly grin and waited.
Recognition showed in his eyes. “Wait a minute, that house sounds very familiar. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, I think I may have arrested a murderer there.”
I giggled. “Turns out Gordon Pease didn’t own that house after all. My mother and I spoke to the realtor handling the sale and made an offer. They accepted, and the rest is history. As soon as it goes through escrow, I get to move in.”
He nodded his head. “Very nice. Sounds like you’ll have a lot of work to do there.”
“Definitely, but I really love anything retro, and the kitchen is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. Did you see it when you were there?”
“No, I didn’t take the tour. I was occupied with business, slapping handcuffs on a killer,” he said with a grin.
I nodded. “You’ll have to come over and take a look. The bathroom needs to be renovated and I would love to find some vintage linoleum and tile like they used to put in the bathrooms back in the 1950s. I can hardly wait to get started on it.”
“It sounds like it will be a big project,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “I’m fairly handy with a hammer and screwdriver if you need any help.”
I smiled at him. “I would love the help.”
I wanted to squeal for joy. Not only was I getting that adorable house, but Cade had just offered to help me work on it. Maybe forgiving Craig was the key to being able to move forward with my life. I hoped it was the answer I had been looking for.
Chapter Eighteen
I was humming as I went about my day the next morning, waiting on customers and thinking about my date with Cade the night before. We had spent a couple of hours not talking about much of anything once we had finished discussing Pamela’s murder. It made me feel hopeful that maybe I could be happy again with someone—or at least comfortable. It was probably the first time in a long while that I’d really and truly embraced such a thought.
“What did you bring us today?” Diane whispered leaning toward me as I passed the industrial-sized coffee machine. She had just started up the coffee pots and was waiting for them to finish.
I turned around and looked at her with a smile. “I am making classic cinnamon rolls, complete with a filling of cinnamon, brown sugar, and raisins. A powdered sugar icing is going on top.”
“Not cream cheese?” she asked, a hint of disappointment creeping into her voice.
“Not this time. I think cream cheese frosting is more of a modern touch. I’m still working on more vintage Americana recipes. But don’t you worry. The powdered sugar icing won’t disappoint.” Dianne was one of my favorite co-workers. She was in her mid-forties with short blond hair and was a professional. She had been waitressing since high school. People were naturally drawn to her and she could squeeze a twenty percent tip out of a miser with just one smile.
She laughed. “I’m sure it won’t,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything you’ve made that wasn’t wonderful.”
“Why, thank you, Dianne. I appreciate the vote of confidence,” I said and headed to the kitchen to check on the cinnamon rolls. I had gotten to the diner earlier than usual so I could get them made and put into the oven just as we opened.
“There you are,” Sam said when I entered the kitchen. “I was just going to check those cinnamon rolls. They smell awesome.”
“Thanks, Sam,” I said and headed to the oven. I opened the door and peered in at
the cinnamon rolls. They were browned perfectly and the brown sugar in the filling bubbled up happily in the center.
“Wow, Rainey, those smell so good,” Ron White said, looking over his shoulder at me from in front of the sink where he was washing dishes.
“Thanks, Ron,” I replied as I donned oven gloves, removed the tray from the oven, and set the huge pan on a wire rack to cool.
“How long until we get one of those?” Sam asked, flipping pancakes on the long, flat steel grill. The sweet scents in the kitchen were maddening. I had skipped breakfast in anticipation of a cinnamon roll and it was days like this that I swore I could eat everything in sight.
“We need to let them cool a little. I’ll be back in a few minutes to spread the icing on them,” I said, removing the oven gloves and tossing them on the counter.
“Make it quick,” Sam said with a grin. “I need a cinnamon roll. Order up.”
I picked up the three plates of pancakes, eggs, and waffles and took them to table six. I wished I had taken the time to eat at least a little something before coming to work. My stomach was going to eat a hole in itself if I didn’t get something soon.
“That looks good,” my customer said as I set the plates down in front of her and her two kids.
“It smells good, too. Are you here to spend time at the river?” I asked.
“We are. It’s our yearly summer visit,” she said with a big smile.
“Well, you enjoy yourselves out there. The weather is beautiful,” I said and headed toward the table in the corner. Agatha was seated at that table and smiled at me as I approached.
“Hey, Miss Agatha,” I said as I pulled out my order book from my apron pocket.
“How are you this morning Rainey?” she asked in her crisp British accent.
“I’m doing fine,” I answered.
“Wonderful. I think I’m in need of a Denver omelet,” she said without looking at the menu.
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