Beignets, Brides and Bodies

by J. R. Ripley

  ‘Yep.’ Keith leaned the keyboard against the table. ‘Cody’s a good guy. Comes from money but acts like a regular guy, you know?’

  Aubrey pulled Keith out of my grasp before I could ask any more questions. She loaded him up with beignets and coffee and sent him on his way. ‘Why were you giving Keith the third degree?’

  ‘I was not giving the young man the third degree. I was simply trying to find out what insight he might have into Cody Ryan. I don’t know why you’re being so protective of him,’ I said. ‘Just because you’re smitten with the boy.’

  Aubrey pulled a face. ‘Smitten? Who says that?’ She grinned wickedly. ‘How old did you say you were, Maggie?’

  I growled and turned to our next customer, saving Aubrey from what would, no doubt, have been my barbed and witty reply. And dealing with the customer would give me time to compose one.

  A little later, I was coming back from the portable restrooms the town had set up on the edge of the square when I caught the sound of furtive voices, one of which I recognized. I froze in my tracks. The voice belonged to Cody Ryan. But who was the other guy? The voices were coming from the other side of a pickup with a faded yellow camper shell. I tried peering at them through the windows but dirty beige curtains blocked the view. I crept around the side, stooped over and peeked around the rust-pitted chrome front bumper.

  It was Cody Ryan all right and I still hadn’t forgotten how he might or might not have accidently on purpose tried to push me down a flight of stairs. ‘Don’t worry,’ he was saying. ‘My band gets off around ten-thirty. I’ll take care of things then. You’ll get your money.’

  ‘I’d better,’ snarled the other man. He was short, squat and hairy. I suspected he contained an orangutan gene or two. ‘What about Miller?’

  Cody smiled, a determined look on his face. ‘Don’t worry.’ His hand landed on the other man’s shoulder. ‘After tonight, Miller is not going to be a problem.’

  A chill ran up my spine. Jiminy freaking cricket! Cody Ryan was seriously going to try to kill me!

  The two men shook hands and I tiptoed away before I was discovered. No point getting killed now and putting him off his timetable. And mine!

  I had a long life planned. I had to do something. I had to tell somebody!

  THIRTY-FOUR

  I spotted Andy traipsing along the line of booths, pausing to inspect a blue-green glass globe at an artist’s display table. ‘Andy,’ I said between quick breaths, ‘quick, you’ve got to help me.’

  He pulled me between two tents. ‘What’s wrong, Maggie?’ He was smiling but I saw concern in his eyes.

  I pointed. ‘It’s Cody Ryan. I saw … I heard,’ I gulped, ‘him talking to some strange man, a dangerous-looking man.’

  ‘Yeah?’ he drawled ‘So?’

  ‘So, he – Cody, that is, threatened to kill me!’

  Andy cocked his head to one side. ‘Because he caught you spying on him? I can get why he’d be mad, but still—’

  ‘No,’ I whispered. ‘That’s just it. He didn’t catch me listening in. I overheard the two men talking.’

  ‘What exactly did Cody Ryan say, Maggie?’ He was beginning to sound skeptical.

  ‘He said he was going to kill me.’ I crossed my arms over my chest.

  ‘No, Maggie.’ Andy shook his head. ‘Tell me exactly what he said.’

  I frowned and blew out a breath. I thought carefully for a moment before replying. ‘He said he was going to kill me. He said after tonight I wouldn’t be a problem.’

  ‘He said you?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Maggie Miller?’

  I nodded once more.

  ‘Why would he want to kill you? Did you steal and/or smash his car, too?’

  ‘Very funny,’ I snapped. ‘Because he killed Lisa Willoughby and he knows I’m on to him and now he wants me dead, too.’

  Andy’s nose wrinkled. ‘I thought you figured the brother did it?’

  I pouted. Andy was right. I had figured that. But maybe I was wrong. ‘Maybe they were in it together.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Andy rubbed his chin. ‘Did Cody and Houston Willoughby even know one another?’

  I chewed my lip in silence.

  ‘It does seem to me that the brother had the most to gain,’ Andy said. ‘Looking past the fact that Lisa Willoughby had filed a million-dollar defamation suit against Johnny and Clive.’

  I whistled. Wow, I hadn’t realized it had been that much. That was a motive with a lot of zeroes after it.

  ‘Listen, if this is true you need to be careful.’ He jerked his head toward the bandstand. ‘I see Detective Highsmith over there. Tell him what you told me.’

  ‘OK, I will.’

  Andy grabbed my hand as I started to leave. ‘And don’t go anywhere alone. Donna and I will see you get home safe tonight.’ He looked over the crowd. ‘She and the boys are around here somewhere. Plus, you’ve got Mom staying with you.’

  I agreed to be careful and not leave without him, then pushed my way through the milling crowd trying to get closer to the detective. Besides, if Cody did manage to break into the apartment, Mom could incapacitate him by tricking him into performing some deep-dish-dog-praying-cat-scratching-Buddha-bending yoga position with her. That’d have him tied up in knots in no time.

  By the time I’d managed to climb past the close-packed bodies to the spot I’d last spied the detective with VV, both were gone. I arched up on my tiptoes and saw no sign of them, though I did spot Cody again, this time in conversation with his future mother-in-law, Samantha Higgins.

  ‘Everything all right, dear?’ Mom asked as I returned to our stand.

  ‘Sure, everything’s fine, Mom.’ No point worrying her. I wasn’t due to be dead for hours yet. ‘Just talking to Andy.’

  ‘Oh, I thought maybe you were spending some time with that nice young reporter.’

  ‘Brad?’

  Mom nodded.

  ‘We were going to hang out today but I called and told him tomorrow would be better.’ The event ran late today but ended early tomorrow. Plus, Brad hadn’t had time to dig up anything on the cause of Willow Willoughby’s death yet. I told him he should make time. It could be important.

  Mom grunted. ‘You know, I was talking to Donna earlier at the café.’

  ‘I didn’t know she’d stopped by.’

  ‘We’re both wondering when you’re going to settle down.’

  ‘I am settled down, Mom.’

  ‘Not settled down and married,’ Mom pointedly replied.

  ‘You mean like with kids.’

  ‘I think having kids would be wonderful.’ Aubrey clapped her hands together. ‘I can’t wait.’

  Mom smiled. ‘Like with Keith, maybe?’

  Aubrey blushed. ‘Maybe. I mean, not yet, but I don’t want to wait until I’m too old.’ She waved her arms at me. ‘Not that I’m saying you’re old, Maggie!’

  She was all of twenty-three. I was most of thirty-nine. It wasn’t like we were eons apart. ‘This entire conversation is getting old,’ I quipped, tossing some empty cups in the trash can under the table. ‘Can we please change the subject?’

  Mom nodded. ‘The biological clock is ticking, dear. I mean, no offense, but you’re not getting any younger.’

  ‘And getting older by the minute,’ I grumbled.

  ‘Look at me,’ Mom continued. ‘I had you when I was about your age. Tick-tock.’ Her finger swung side to side like the pendulum of a clock.

  I’d been married. That’s not to say I wasn’t open to the idea of marriage again but, sheesh, what was the hurry? Couldn’t I hit the snooze button on my biological clock just a few more times? ‘Look, ladies,’ I said, ‘to tell you the truth I’m not so sure I’m ever going to find my HEAP.’

  ‘Heap?’ Aubrey asked.

  Mom rolled her eyes. She’d heard this before.

  ‘Yes, you know. My happily ever after person. HEAP.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous,’ replied Mom, ever s
o sensitive of my feelings.

  I was saved from having my biological clock counting down to zero and me going off like a two-ton bunker-busting bomb by the arrival of some customers. Not that these customers were much of an improvement because it was Houston and Irwin who approached the tent.

  ‘Hey, hey,’ said Irwin. ‘What have we here?’

  The two men looked two sheets – or six packs – to the wind. Why were these two men, whom I had originally thought enemies – or unfriendly business partners at best – suddenly so chummy?

  ‘Can I get you anything?’ I inquired. Like a couple of gallons of my special coffee?’

  Irwin’s bloodshot eyes sparkled. ‘What’s so special about it?’

  ‘For one thing,’ I said, folding my arms over my chest – I didn’t like the way his eyes kept landing on my breasts, ‘there’s not a drop of alcohol in it.’ I looked the two men up and down. ‘I’d say it’s been a while since either of you boys had a drink that could make that claim.’

  Irwin cuffed Houston on the back. ‘This lady’s a hoot, isn’t she?’

  ‘A real hoot,’ Houston said morosely.

  ‘What’s eating you?’ I asked. Was he one of those guys who gets sullen when he drinks?

  ‘I guess it’s sinking in that Lisa is gone.’ Houston rubbed a knuckle under his eye. ‘I’m sure going to miss her.’ He shook his head. ‘First Aunt Willow, now Lisa.’

  Yeah, quite a tragic coincidence that. He could go lie in his bed, resting his head on a pillow stuffed with hundred-dollar bills and wallow in his misfortune.

  Irwin ordered two plates of beignets and coffees from Aubrey. She got the coffees. I prepped the beignets. ‘When’s the funeral?’ I asked.

  Houston replied, ‘Next week, down in Santa Fe. I know she’d like that.’

  Sure, and he’d like all that money he’d suddenly come into sole possession of. I decided to go for broke. ‘Funny,’ I said, tapping my fingers against the side of the deep fryer.

  ‘What’s that?’ Houston’s brow dropped lower.

  ‘The morning I first met you, you said you’d just gotten into town.’

  ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘You were in Prescott for a couple of days or more before coming here.’

  Houston bit down on his lip. ‘That’s ridiculous. Where’d you hear a thing like that?’

  Irwin looked amused.

  There was no reason to get the waitress over at the Hotel St Michael in any trouble. I picked up a rag and wiped the folding table slowly. ‘Let’s just say a little birdie told me.’ There was also no point in telling him I’d been snooping around in Lisa’s condo and riffled through his suitcase and found a hotel receipt.

  Houston was silent for a moment. ‘No big deal.’ He shrugged. ‘I wanted a couple of days by myself. Some personal time.’

  ‘Houston is a very sensitive man.’ Irwin clamped his hand down on Houston Willoughby’s shoulder and I saw the other man wince. ‘He was grieving for his little sister.’

  My brow shot up. ‘You mean his aunt.’

  Irwin looked confused. ‘Oh, yeah,’ he said, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. ‘His aunt.’ The men shared a nervous look.

  ‘What about you?’ I asked Irwin. ‘Were you in the area prior to Lisa’s death as well? And how did you know where she lived?’

  ‘Who said I did?’ he demanded.

  ‘You did.’ He took a step back. ‘At the diner the morning I met you.’

  The two men exchanged looks again.

  Irwin’s eyes darkened and he kicked the ground with his boots. ‘I think you ask too many questions, Maggie.’ He turned on a smile. This man ran hot and cold on the turn of a dime. A man like that could be dangerous. Deadly. ‘You should learn to relax, have more fun.’

  ‘Like with you, I suppose?’

  He leered. ‘You suppose right. How about if we—’ Irwin’s eyes widened and he tapped Houston on the shoulder. ‘Hey, isn’t that the guy?’

  Houston stuffed a hot beignet in his mouth and bit down. ‘What guy?’

  ‘Look.’ Excitement rose in Irwin’s voice; he swung Houston around. ‘That guy.’ He pointed a finger. ‘Right there.’

  Houston scarfed down the rest of his beignet and hoisted his coffee cup. ‘What guy,’ he grumbled again, ‘I don’t see any—’ Houston halted. ‘Hey!’ He pointed now too. ‘That’s the guy,’ he said, swinging back around to make sure I understood.

  I didn’t.

  ‘You two keep saying that,’ I said, looking at the literally hundreds of men and women in the general vicinity, ‘but I have no idea who or what you’re talking about.’

  ‘The guy that broke into the condo the other night.’ Houston dropped his coffee on the ground. ‘Come on!’ He surged forward and Irwin lurched behind.

  I still had no idea who they were talking about until I saw a little man in the crowd suddenly tense up then whirl around and take off in the opposite direction, wading deeper into the crowd.

  I gasped. He had a ponytail and looked Hispanic.

  I didn’t bother to chase Houston and Irwin. They may or may not catch the man. But I knew exactly where to find him.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  I checked my phone again. It was past ten-thirty and Cody’s band was breaking down their gear and packing up. I was restless. I was nervous. Our stand was closed for the day, the equipment turned off and the tent sealed.

  Mom had taken off earlier to listen to the band with Donna, Andy and my nephews. Aubrey had sat at the corner of the stage the entire time, casting admiring looks at Keith as he played the keyboard. Cody was the bassist and he wasn’t half-bad. Not that I know anything about music. I barely recognized the tunes they played. We’re from different generations.

  ‘Maggie?’

  I turned. It was Brad.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ He asked. ‘You look upset.’

  ‘No.’ I smiled and ran a hand through my hair. ‘Did you find out anything about Willow Willoughby or anything new on Lisa’s murder?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve been tied up most of the day.’ Brad checked his watch. ‘I’m heading back to the paper now. We’re running a special edition tomorrow. Lots of human interest stories, stories on the vendors, plenty of pics. It’s good for business.’ He waved his hand around the square. ‘Most of these vendors are Table Rock Reader advertisers.’

  ‘I get it.’

  He grabbed my hand. ‘I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to hook up today.’

  His electric-blue eyes buzzed their way under my skin and I gulped. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘We still on for tomorrow? We could catch a bite to eat.’

  I told him that would be nice and he left to file his stories. Maybe I should have told him about Cody Ryan and his threat to kill me but part of me was still feeling very competitive with Brad Smith the reporter. I wanted to be the one to solve this crime, not him or the police.

  I checked my phone display once more: ten forty-five. If Cody was planning to kill me he was already behind schedule.

  Not that I was complaining.

  I edged up closer to the stage and settled against a sycamore. Cody was joking with his bandmates. He clapped a buddy on the back then hoisted his amp and guitar. The bass was in a gig bag that he strung over his shoulder. He headed toward the public parking lot.

  I glanced around. There was no sign of Andy, Mom or any of my friends. Where had Aubrey disappeared to? Had she left with Keith? And where the devil was Detective Highsmith? Probably making out somewhere with VV.

  Didn’t anybody care what Cody Ryan was up to? Didn’t anybody care that he had his sights set on me? That I was going to be his next victim? I ran back to my tent and retrieved my Schwinn. The Hitching Post’s tent was dark and quiet. Apparently Clive and Johnny hadn’t stuck around for the music.

  I should have left early too. If I’d been smart I’d have gone home before dark, when there were still plenty of people around. A
nd I should have insisted on a police escort. I walked the bike to the curb. I watched Cody as he lowered his equipment into the back of his Corvette. He gazed toward the town square. I dropped my head so he wouldn’t see me looking at him. A moment later, I glanced up and saw the sports car’s brake lights throb red. He was leaving.

  I hopped on my bike, determined to see where he was going and what he was up to. The Miller Transport truck had finally gone and I hoped that meant Brian had finally headed back home to Phoenix. I didn’t need my dead ex-husband hanging around mucking up my life. I seemed to have enough mucker-uppers around here.

  The car turned the corner and I redoubled my efforts. What if I lost him? I took the corner at speed and shook my fist at a honking car that blazed past me. I wondered again where Cody was heading. Maybe he was going to my apartment. Maybe he was going to surprise me. Maybe he was hoping to murder me in my sleep!

  In that case, there was no real hurry.

  Several cars ran up and down the street. Cody turned right. I hugged the curb and followed. But when I turned the corner it was to discover that the Corvette had disappeared. I cursed my luck and banged my hands on the handlebars. Pain was my reward.

  I took a couple of minutes to catch my breath and let my quivering thighs recover, then turned around and pedaled back the way I’d come. I wanted to stop back at the café before heading home to be sure Mom had locked up the cash drawer and added the money from the tent’s cash box to the floor safe.

  A big truck came lurching out of a dark alleyway and I veered out of its path. I cursed as it roared ahead in a puffy cloud of smelly diesel fuel. The side of the truck read Miller Transport.

  Of course. It was my idiot dead ex-husband.

  I shot across the street to cut Brian off and give him a piece of my mind when a second car rocketed around the corner. It was a yellow Corvette and it was heading straight for me!

  A Buick coming the opposite way honked, slammed on its brakes and bounced to a stop. I drove the Schwinn toward the sidewalk, trying to avoid being run over by the sports car or squeezed between oncoming cars. The tire bounced sharply against the curb. The bike wobbled madly despite my best efforts and I came to a stop in the alcove of a small shop. I fell over, landing on my hip, and winced in pain.