by Jeff Shelby
“Oh, I just have an errand to run.”
“To where?”
I didn’t want to tell him. I wanted to get information first and then bring it to him.
But it didn’t look like that was going to happen.
“Well, I thought I’d go talk to my friend, Mikey. The one who has the restaurant?”
“I’ll go with you,” he said quickly.
“You will?” My heart sank. I darted a glance at the window, where I could just see Billie and Sunny sitting in lawn chairs in the shade of the big oak tree. The chickens were pecking the grass nearby, and Billie was pointing at then and talking animatedly to her travel companion. “Don’t you want to spend time with your grandma?”
“I just did,” he said bluntly. “Besides, she’s going to be laying down for a nap soon. At least that’s what she told me.”
I immediately sobered. “How is she? Health-wise, I mean?”
Connor shrugged. “She seems fine to me. But what do I know? I’m not a doctor.”
I wasn’t, either. Billie Applegate was old, and definitely a little frail, but she didn’t look to me as if she were at death’s door. She’d walked into the house on her own, albeit with the aid of a walker, and based on what I was seeing out the window, she was alert and engaged right now.
“Yes, she does look good, “ I agreed. “But are you sure you don’t want to stay? Considering she came all of this way to see you…”
He didn’t take the hint. “I’d like to come with, since the food is supposed to be my department.”
It was a fair point, and a gentle reprimand. My role in the wedding was supposed to be limited: all I was really doing was providing lodging and hospitality, and a location for the festivities.
I probably needed to remind myself of that.
“I’ll just go grab my wallet,” he said. He was already heading toward the hallway.
He turned around. “You said they serve burgers, right?”
I nodded. “And other things, too.”
His expression turned hopeful. “Any sushi?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly.
But for my daughter’s sake, I sincerely hoped they didn’t.
FIFTEEN
“It smells good in here.” I looked at Connor for confirmation.
We were sitting at a table at the Cow & Vine, waiting to talk with Mikey.
Unfortunately, we’d come right when the lunch rush was starting, and he was stuck in the back of the restaurant, helping out with the cooking. Even though he was the owner of the place and had hired a couple of cooks, I knew he often covered midday shifts and even helped out during dinner rushes. His passion was cooking and creating new food, and even if he eventually owned a hundred restaurants, I was pretty sure he’d always find a way to work himself back into the kitchen.
I glanced at Connor again. He hadn’t responded.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“About what?”
“Doesn’t it smell good in here?”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
I tried not to frown. The smell of seasoned meat filled the air, and I knew I was smelling fried onions and some kind of garlic bread, too. My stomach growled and I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t eaten anything all day. Not a single bite of the French toast casserole I’d made for breakfast had found its way into my mouth.
Connor was staring at the menu, his finger trailing against the laminated surface as he went down the list of items.
“No sushi,” he muttered.
I did a quick scan of the menu sitting in front of me. “But they have sirloin tips. And lobster tail. And crab cakes, if you want to stick with seafood.” I knew Laura wasn’t a huge fan of anything that came out of the ocean, but she stood a better chance of trying it if the item was at least cooked.
Connor wrinkled his nose. “I’m not a fan.”
He didn’t elaborate.
“There are some interesting burger options,” he conceded.
I smiled. Mikey had been known for creating all kinds of specialty burgers when he’d worked at the Wicked Wich, and some of his most popular options had made their way onto the menu here. I would be hard-pressed to pick a favorite out of all the ones listed.
I sipped my soda. The waitress had brought us drinks on the house, courtesy of Mikey. Connor had chosen a glass of Merlot from one of the local wineries.
“How’s your wine?” I asked.
He responded by picking up his wine glass and taking a small sip. “It’s good.” He said this almost reluctantly.
It was obvious to me that he was doing his very best to not look or sound impressed.
But he was sort of failing.
My hopes were buoyed by this, because it meant that one thing might finally go right with the wedding planning. I knew we could count on Mikey to come through for us with delicious food and impressive wines.
“Can I get you guys anything to eat?”
Mikey was standing at our table, wiping his hands on the half-apron tied around his waist. He was dressed in a purple polo that sported the restaurant’s logo on his left breast, and a pair of neatly pressed black slacks. With his short, buzzed hair and baby face, he looked more like a kid playing dress up than the owner of a chic new restaurant.
“We actually came to talk to you about catering the wedding,” I told him. “I know it’s short notice and all, but—”
Mikey waved his hand. “It’s Wednesday. Plenty of time.” He grinned. “You guys have ideas of what you might want to serve? I see you’re looking at the menus, but just know that if there’s something you don’t see, I may still be able to make it.”
Connor looked at him hopefully. “Sushi?”
Mikey cocked his head. “Sushi? Hmm. I don’t know that I’d be able to get my hands on the right ingredients to make—”
I cut him off. “That’s completely understandable.” I looked at Connor and gave him an encouraging smile. “I think there are plenty of options on the menu for Connor to choose from.”
Connor frowned but he returned his gaze to the menu.
“If there’s anything you’d like to try first, to see how you like it, I can go ahead and whip it up for you.”
“These sliders you serve,” Connor said, his brow furrowed. “And the burgers…what kind of meat do you use?”
Mikey shot me a look. “Uh, beef?”
“So no bison? Elk?”
Mikey shook his head.
“Do you use Kobe beef?”
Mikey gave him another headshake. “The cost to serve Kobe or Wagyu burgers would be astronomical.”
I had no idea what they were talking about but I recognized the look of disappointment on Connor’s face.
“We do source our beef from grass-fed cows,” Mikey offered.
Something flickered in Connor’s eyes. “You do?”
Mikey nodded.
This seemed to satisfy Connor. “So if we had a selection of sliders, what else would you recommend serving?”
That was all the opening Mikey needed. He sat down at one of the empty chairs at the table and started discussing menu options with Connor. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was confident that we would have the food figured out within a half hour.
Things were finally looking up.
“Rainy Day.”
Until they weren’t.
Sheriff Lewis was standing in front of our table, his expression dour.
Mikey and Connor stopped talking.
“I have some news for you,” the sheriff boomed.
Standing over us with a deep frown etched into his features, he actually looked like an imposing figure. I shrank back involuntarily.
“That man in your bungalow?” His voice dropped a notch. “Drew Solomon?”
I felt a shiver run down my spine.
“He was murdered,” he announced.
SIXTEEN
“Murdered?”
Connor echoed my word. “Murdered?”
&nb
sp; The sheriff nodded. “Strangled with some type of electrical cord.”
I stared at him, open-mouthed. “What? I didn’t see an electrical cord when I found him.”
The sheriff glared at me. “It was under the blanket, wrapped partially around his neck. Melvin found abrasions on his neck that support strangulation.”
I was horrified.
Not just by what he was telling me, but also because he was so willingly disclosing details about the case.
The sheriff folded his arms and puffed out his chest. Or at least he tried to, but all he managed to do was suck in his gut a little.
“So, you wanna tell me what happened?” he asked.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Why did you kill him?”
“Me?” I squeaked.
The sheriff nodded.
“I didn’t even know him!”
“It happened on your property,” Sheriff Lewis pointed out. “That makes you responsible.”
I once again questioned how he’d ever become sheriff…and how he’d managed to stay in the position for so long.
“This isn’t an insurance case,” I said. “You don’t just assign responsibility to the property owner.”
I mean, I guess there were instances where this would apply—say, if he’d been killed by something faulty or unsafe in my home, but I didn’t think the sheriff was capable of comprehending that kind of logic.
“He died on your property,” the sheriff barked.
“But there are like a dozen people staying at my house right now.”
“And I’m sure that violates a city violation,” he grumbled.
I ignored him. “The point is, I’m not the only one staying at my house right now. There are plenty of people who might have been responsible.”
As soon as I said the words, I regretted them.
Because I knew everyone staying at the house. With the exception of Thor, they were all in some way related to me.
So was I making the accusation that someone I knew and loved was responsible for Drew Solomon’s death?
“Then I’ll bring every single one of them in for questioning.” The sheriff rubbed his chin. “All together or one by one. And I’ll hold you all for as long as it takes until I get a confession.”
I looked at Connor. His eyes were wide, and I knew what he was thinking about.
Laura.
She would absolutely lose her mind if the sheriff held to his word.
Connor cleared his throat. “Could we possibly wait?” His tone made him sound as timid as a mouse. “Until after the wedding?”
“Of course not,” Sheriff Lewis roared. A couple of other customers glanced in our direction and he thankfully lowered his voice to a more reasonable decibel. “I have a murder to solve!”
Mikey stood up. “Yes, you do,” he said. He reached out his arm and patted the sheriff’s shoulder. “It’s hard, demanding work, what you do, isn’t it?”
The sheriff gave him a curt nod.
“Probably doesn’t give you much free time to enjoy yourself. You know, grab a bite to eat and a nice relaxing glass of wine.”
The sheriff grunted in response.
“How about this?” Mikey said. “How about you come to the wedding? I’m catering it. We’re serving sliders, garlic fries, a salad…all kinds of good food. And you can have as much of it as you want.”
Sheriff Lewis glanced at Mikey. His expression was hard to read but he didn’t look as angry as he had just moments before.
“And wine,” Mikey added. “All the wine you want, too.”
The sheriff hitched his thumbs in his belt loops and yanked up his pants. “Well, I can’t be drinking on the job,” he grumbled.
“Of course,” Mikey said, nodding. “We’ll have soda, too. And food. All the food you can eat.”
“No limits?” The sheriff’s eyebrows disappeared under the brim of his hat. “As much as I want?”
Mikey glanced at me and I nodded.
“As much as you want,” Mikey assured him.
Sheriff Lewis patted his stomach. “Alright,” he said at last, and I saw Connor practically deflate with relief. “But the minute the wedding is over, I’m questioning the lot of you. No one leaves until I talk to them, even if that means I have to lock them up to do it.”
“Fine,” I said.
His eyes narrowed, and his bushy eyebrows reappeared. “And don’t think for a minute that I’m not going to keep looking between now and Saturday.”
I pressed my lips together and managed a slight nod.
“Because I have a pretty good idea who’s responsible for this murder.”
He slowly uncurled his pointer finger and aimed it at me.
“And this time?” He practically cackled. “This time she isn’t going to get away with it.”
SEVENTEEN
“Is he for real?”
Connor and I were driving back home from Mikey’s restaurant.
I was mulling over the fact that we had one extra guest who would be attending…and who apparently planned to treat the reception as an all-he-could-eat buffet.
“Who, the sheriff?” I asked.
He nodded. His experience with Sheriff Lewis during his infrequent visits to town had been limited, but I knew he’d witnessed some of his craziness before.
Everyone had.
“Oh, he’s for real, alright,” I told him.
We were driving from Winslow back to Latney, crawling along at a slow pace due to the dump truck fifteen feet ahead of us that was moving about as fast as if horses were pulling it down the country road.
“I can’t believe Drew was murdered,” he muttered. “Did he say with an electrical cord?”
That was what the sheriff had said. I hadn’t asked for details, and even now I was having a hard time picturing just how this would have been accomplished. And how I could have missed seeing signs of this. I mean, if the guy had been strangled to death, wouldn’t he have put up some kind of struggle? Wouldn’t his last facial expression sort of indicate a violent death? Eyes bulging, mouth gasping for air? I knew it was morbid to think about, but I also knew what I’d seen with my own eyes when I found Drew. He’d looked awake. Not in agony, not in pain. Just…awake.
Connor shifted in his seat so he was turned more fully toward me. “Do you really think he is going to question all of us?”
I chewed my lip. “Honestly?” I asked, stealing a glance at him.
He gave a slight nod.
I let out a breath. “Yep.”
He was quiet for a minute. Then, “Laura is going to flip.”
“I’m aware.”
“Having Drew die was bad enough,” Connor continued. “But now that it’s being classified as a homicide?” He whistled, low and soft. “She is gonna freak.”
At least he knew my daughter well.
“And when the sheriff tells her he has to question her...” I saw him shudder out of the corner of my eye.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that point,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
The dump truck came to a complete stop, right on the road.
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel and craned my neck, trying to see around the large vehicle currently parked directly in front of me, and in the middle of the road.
“Maybe we’ll find out who did it before then,” I told him. “Before Sheriff Lewis starts questioning anyone.”
Connor frowned. “How?” Then his eyebrows shot up. “You’re not going to start digging around, are you? Because that will just set Laura off even more.”
I wasn’t stupid. I knew this.
But I still figured I could poke around a little. See if Drew had any enemies, or anyone who might have been mad enough to kill him.
Worry immediately began to eat at me.
Because I knew someone who had been absolutely irate with Drew Solomon.
My own son.
I swallowed.
That was part of the
problem with this particular situation.
Drew had been killed in the bungalow on my property.
The natural inclination was to think that someone staying at the house was responsible for the crime; I’d said as much to the sheriff. If nothing else, the person who murdered Drew had to at least have known that he was sleeping in the bungalow. Otherwise, how else would they have found him?
I needed to find out more about Drew Solomon. Where he lived, what circles he moved in, who knew he was in Latney. All of those pieces of information could help provide a bigger picture than what I was currently working with, and those things just might help me figure out who was responsible for his death.
Because I knew we couldn’t count on Sheriff Lewis to figure it out.
He’d already named his prime suspect.
Me.
The only problem was, I had a wedding coming up. In two and a half days, to be exact. The last thing I had time to do was go poking around for clues relating to Drew’s death…and not just because I was going to be busy. My daughter would probably disown me if she found out I was spending any pre-wedding time trying to solve a “case.”
The dump truck started moving again, and I took my foot off the brake.
“I think I made a mistake,” Connor said slowly.
“A mistake?” I repeated. I’d been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I suddenly worried I’d missed something he’d said. Something important. “A mistake about what?”
“The wedding.”
My foot hit the brake and we lurched to a stop in the middle of the road.
“What are you doing?!” Connor’s voice was laced with panic.
“A mistake about the wedding?”
Had he changed his mind about marrying Laura? Drew’s murder would pale in comparison to this news, at least as far as Laura was concerned.
He gave me an odd look. “Sorry. About the food. I was just thinking about the menu.”
Relief flooded me. I eased my foot off the brake and we slowly began to accelerate. Thankfully there hadn’t been anyone behind us.
“Burgers are rather boring,” Connor said. “And I know he dresses them up, has all those toppings and stuff, but I’m wondering if maybe I should add something a little different. A little more sophisticated.”
