Sour Grapes

by Jeff Shelby

  He nodded, his attention still focused on the tire.

  “She knows how to operate it?”

  Another nod. “I taught her a few years ago. Easter, I think, or some holiday when the restaurant was closed. We went out to one of them country roads just east of town and I taught her how to drive it. She picked it up real fast.”

  “So Dawn knows how to drive your truck?”

  “Dawn knows how to do a lot of things,” he said. “I can’t think of a single thing that woman couldn’t do if she set her mind to it.”

  The wheels were spinning again.

  “And you said she moved your truck while you were sleeping? While you were sick?”

  He glanced at me, a quizzical expression on his face. “Yeah, she wanted to get the mower out. I parked too close to the shed so she had to move the truck to get in there. I guess she parked it on the road for a few hours and then re-parked it. I heard her when she moved it back to the driveway.”

  He finished with the tire and pushed himself back up to a standing position, the air compressor still in his hand. “Good as new,” he said, slapping the trunk of my car. He picked up his soda and took a long sip.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I really appreciate you doing that.”

  “Anytime, Rainy.” He looked at the tire. “That patch should hold for a while but you might want to keep an eye on it, just in case.”

  “I will. Thanks again.”

  I was absolutely thanking him for fixing my tire, but I was thanking him for something else, too.

  Breathing new life into the fact that his wife could indeed still be a suspect in the case of the missing cow.

  FOURTEEN

  After the tire was patched and Martin went on his way—back home, as he suddenly realized he’d probably overdid things—I decided another visit to Dawn was in order.

  The problem was, I didn’t really want to go. Not yet. I knew I had to poke around and ask questions about her husband’s truck. If he had been tired and delusional, and she knew how to drive the truck, how long could she have disappeared for? Would she have had enough time to drive the short distance to Winslow, somehow wrangle the statue into the back of the truck, stow it somewhere, and then get back before Martin knew?

  How on earth was I going to bring all of this up in conversation? It wasn’t like Dawn was easy to converse with under normal circumstances. Questioning her about her potential involvement in a theft could be even more hazardous to my health than my normal attempts at conversation with her.

  I leaned against the side of my car, my eyes trained on the Wicked Wich, trying to summon the courage I needed to walk the short distance and go inside. Perhaps I should have sampled some of the wine Mikey’s new restaurant would be serving; that could have relaxed me a little.

  The door to the restaurant opened and I watched as Charlotte stepped on to the sidewalk. She had a t-shirt draped over one arm, her purse looped over the other. She glanced both ways, then crossed the street, heading in my direction.

  “Hey,” I said as she approached.

  She glanced up, startled. She offered a feeble smile in greeting.

  I looked at the shirt she was holding. It was a Wicked Wich shirt, the same style Dawn always wore. “I take it you got the job?”

  She nodded unhappily.

  I frowned. “You don’t seem too happy about it.”

  Charlotte tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not.”

  My frown deepened. “I’m not following...I thought you said you needed a job.”

  “Oh, I do,” she said, nodding. “And I honestly didn’t think I’d get it. I have zero serving experience and I haven’t worked in years.”

  That just proved how dire of straits Dawn was in. “So that’s a good thing, right? That you landed the job despite not having much experience.”

  “Of course it’s a good thing,” she snapped. “Like I said, I need the job. The problem is, I don’t know what to do about childcare.”

  I’d somehow forgotten all about Charlotte’s little girl and the fact that Charlotte was a single parent.

  “Aren’t there a couple of home-based daycares in town?” I pictured the community board at Toby’s. I knew for a fact that nestled among the flyers for community events and lost pets were quite a few advertisements for local daycares.

  “That doesn’t help me right now,” Charlotte said. Her eyes misted. “She literally wants me to start today. I interviewed yesterday, and she hired me on the spot and told me to get my paperwork back to her as soon as possible. I took it all in this morning and she got mad at me when I couldn’t stay and work.”

  That sounded like Dawn.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” The tears were flowing freely now, and Charlotte slashed at them as they raced down her cheeks. “I’m not just going to just drop Olivia off anywhere. I want to look at the daycares, meet the people, make sure it’s an okay place for her to go.”

  I felt bad for her. She was definitely in between a rock and a hard place. But I didn’t really know what options she had. She needed the job Dawn was offering. Badly.

  “What’s going on?”

  We both turned to look behind us. Sophia Rey was staring at both of us, a concerned expression on her face. Tallulah was tucked under her arm, her pink rhinestone collar and matching leash winking in the sunlight. Unbelievably, it matched the purse Sophia wore slung over her shoulder.

  Charlotte wiped at her eyes. “Nothing,” she mumbled.

  “I heard you say something about Olivia,” Sophia said. “Is she okay?”

  I didn’t know how well Sophia and Charlotte knew each other. Unlike most of the other residents of Latney, I tried not to insert myself too much in local gossip and the trivialities of small town life. Of course, all that went out the window when a crisis erupted and I was asked to help...which seemed to happen more often than not.

  “She’s fine,” Charlotte said.

  “Where do you need to drop her off at?” Sophia was in full-on snoop mode.

  Charlotte sighed. “It’s a long story.”

  “Maybe I can help,” Sophia offered.

  Charlotte and I both turned to look at her, me with an expression of incredulity and Charlotte with a flicker of hope.

  Sophia leaned toward us and I caught a whiff of her perfume. “This isn’t common knowledge yet,” she said, lowering her voice, “but I’m expecting. So now I’m going to be a mom, too!”

  I pressed my lips together. Apparently Sophia thought she was now qualified to help with child-related issues because she was pregnant.

  I watched as Charlotte’s eyes rounded in surprise at the news.

  “I know,” Sophia said when she saw the other woman’s expression. “Isn’t it exciting? I can’t wait to start decorating the nursery!”

  It appeared that this was the single biggest boon to having a child, at least for Sophia.

  “Congratulations,” Charlotte offered, trying to sound enthusiastic, but I could tell her focus was still squarely on her childcare predicament.

  Sophia noticed the shirt Charlotte was holding. “Why do you have that?”

  “I’m starting work there,” Charlotte told her.

  Sophia wrinkled her pert nose. “Really? Why?”

  “Because I need a job,” Charlotte said bluntly. “Which is why I need to find someone to watch Olivia.”

  “Can’t you just bring her with you?” Sophia asked. “That’s what I’m going to do when this one arrives.” She patted her still-flat stomach.

  Charlotte stared at her. “She’s three,” she said. “She can barely sit still at home, much less when we go out to eat at a restaurant. How am I going to watch her and do my job?”

  A frown creased Sophia’s forehead. It was obvious she’d never thought about this. Then her expression cleared and she beamed a smile at Charlotte.

  “Why don’t I watch her?”

  Charlotte’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  S
ophia nodded. “I can watch her, at least until you find a more permanent solution. That’s what you were talking about, right? Checking out daycares?”

  She really had eavesdropped on the bulk of our conversation.

  “Well, yes, but—”

  Sophia cut her off. “I can watch her until you get all that figured out.”

  “Sophia, I don’t think—”

  “I insist,” Sophia said firmly. She stroked Tallulah’s ears. “It will be good practice for when my little one gets here.”

  “You know watching a three-year-old is much different than taking care of a newborn, right?” I asked. I could make the argument that neither was particularly easy.

  “Of course,” Sophia said with a frown. “But, honestly, how hard could it be? I’ll just bring her to the store with me. There are lots of things to keep her occupied.”

  Bringing a preschooler into an antique store for hours on end seemed to me like the equivalent of bringing the proverbial bull in a china shop. I thought about Sophia’s boutique. It was the epitome of tight quarters, with bookcases and shelving units creating a maze through the store, and every nook and cranny filled to the brim with all manner of knick knacks and bric brac.

  And then I thought about the customers who frequented Sophia’s shop. Mostly older, wealthy women...women who didn’t seem to be the type who would tolerate a rambunctious and inquisitive three-year-old traipsing through the store while they gossiped and shopped.

  The same thoughts were apparently going through Charlotte’s mind, too. “I don’t think that’s the best idea,” she said slowly.

  “I insist.” Sophia’s voice was firm. “You need help. I need practice. It’s a match made in heaven!”

  It was the second time in two days I’d heard that expression.

  And it was the second time in two days that I knew without a doubt that it would be anything but.

  I opened my mouth to say something, then closed it just as quickly. If Sophia wanted to help Charlotte out, who was I to point out the potential problems? Besides, I needed to remove myself from the conversation so I could go talk to Dawn.

  I grimaced. I still wasn’t looking forward to the idea, and I still didn’t have a clue as to what I was going to say to her.

  My phone buzzed and I dug it out my purse, grateful for the distraction. I could step away from Charlotte and Sophia’s conversation, and I could delay my visit to the Wicked Wich.

  “Rainy?” Mikey’s voice was an octave higher than normal.

  Immediately, I wondered if he’d located the stolen statue.

  I took a few steps away from the two women I was standing with. “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “No.”

  My pulse quickened. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything,” he said with a moan.

  I was immediately on edge.

  Mikey never overreacted. Mikey had been completely calm when he’d first learned about the statue being gone. He was not calm now.

  “Is this about the statue?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “It’s worse.”

  “Worse? How?”

  “Someone has been kidnapped!”

  FIFTEEN

  It took me ten minutes to excuse myself from Sophia and Charlotte and get myself back to the Cow & Vine.

  Mikey hadn’t given me any more information. He’d just asked me to come as soon as I could, which was exactly what I was doing.

  I pushed the speed limit once I cleared Latney’s town limits and tried to think who might have been kidnapped, and if it was at all related to the missing statue. Because I had no clue if there was even a connection. Maybe Chuck had been kidnapped, and now Mikey was missing his co-owner and his world’s largest cow statue.

  I immediately dismissed that concern. Mikey and Chuck were both waiting for me inside when I opened the metal door to the restaurant.

  “Thank god you’re here,” Chuck said. A look of relief washed over his face, which was a far cry from how he’d greeted me the first time we’d met. Perhaps he’d come around to the idea of me working on the case.

  I tried to offer a reassuring smile. “I’ll help however I can.”

  He scowled. “That’s not what I mean. I mean now we can call the authorities. He made me wait until you got here.”

  So much for that idea.

  Chuck reached into his pocket, presumably for his phone, but Mikey stopped him. “Wait,” he said. “I didn’t give Rainy the details.”

  “Who cares?” Chuck growled. “It’s not like she’s gonna help us find Kenny.”

  “Kenny?” I glanced at Mikey and then at Chuck. “Who is Kenny?”

  “The former chef,” Mikey said.

  “What? There was a chef before you?” I didn’t bother trying to hide my confusion.

  “He was the chef at O’Rourke’s,” Mikey explained.

  I just stared at him. I wasn’t sure how this was connected to Mikey or the new restaurant. “That’s terrible,” I finally said. “How did you find out? And, I’m not sure how to ask this without sounding insensitive, but why does this matter? To you, I mean?”

  Chuck’s scowl deepened but Mikey nodded. “He actually spent a couple weeks here helping us get the restaurant ready,” he told me. “He’s going to school full-time now, in something completely unrelated to the restaurant industry. Chuck here hired him to do some painting and to install all the metal artwork.”

  “Do you think it might be connected to the stolen statue?” I asked. Either that, or it was just really bad luck. Or bad karma, as Mikey had called it.

  “I don’t think it, I know it,” Mikey said, his voice hard.

  I let that news settle in for a moment.

  Chuck yanked his phone out. “That’s it. I’m calling everyone. Cops, newspapers, television stations, you name it. This is complete and total insanity!”

  “Don’t,” Mikey said sharply.

  Chuck glared at him. “Why not? Now we have a missing person, Mike. A kidnapping. We need to blast this info out there. It’s not just about a statue anymore, It’s about someone’s safety.”

  “Exactly! Don’t you remember what the caller said?” Mikey gave Chuck an exasperated look. “We’re not supposed to tell anyone. He said they’d kill him if we did!”

  “Wait.” I held up a hand, stopping him. I didn’t have enough information to process everything they were saying. “You spoke to the kidnapper?”

  Mikey bounced from one foot to the other, almost like he was a boxer waiting to take the ring. “I don’t know if I spoke to the actual person who did it,” he said. “But whoever it was, they were representing the kidnapper.”

  I pulled out a chair and sat down. I took a deep breath. “Tell me exactly what they said. Everything you can remember.”

  “We don’t have time for this!” Chuck’s face was red with anger.

  I glared at him. “I need two minutes. Tops.”

  He scowled and kicked at the ground, looking like a toddler who’d just been put in time-out.

  “It was a short conversation,” Mikey said. “They basically told me not to tell anyone about the kidnapping, and that if I did they’d kill him.” His eyes met mine. “And they told me I’d never see my statue again, either.”

  I swallowed. “So the same person is responsible? For the kidnapping and the stolen statue?”

  “It looks that way, yes.” Mikey glanced at Chuck. “So if you decide to call this in to anyone, just know that Kenny’s life is in your hands. Yours, Chuck.”

  Chuck was still holding the phone, but his hand was trembling and a look of uncertainty crossed his face.

  “What do you remember about the voice?” I asked. “Anything stand out?”

  “Just that the person used a voice-changing app,” Mikey said. “I think it was a guy, but with those kind of tools, I could be totally wrong.”

  I nodded. I actually didn’t know that voice-changing apps existed, but I trusted that the twenty-something-year-old sitt
ing in front of me was more up to date on current technology than I was.

  “Anything else?” I asked. “What do they want in return?”

  Mikey’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down a few times. “Ten thousand dollars,” he said with a sigh.

  I cringed. I was pretty sure Mikey didn’t have ten thousand dollars. And from the expression on Chuck’s face, it didn’t look like he had it, either.

  “When do they want it? How long do you have to get it?”

  “They didn’t say,” Mikey said miserably. “They just said they’d be in touch with further instructions.”

  I nodded, but something about the amount puzzled me. It wasn’t a ton of money to be asking for—at least not in the grand scheme of things. If someone had gone through the trouble of stealing a statue and kidnapping someone, wouldn’t they put a higher bounty on the safe return of those things?

  Chuck glanced at Mikey, who was staring down at his hands, lost in thought. Slowly, Chuck lifted the phone so it was positioned in front of him.

  Mikey’s arm shot to the side, and he knocked the device out of Chuck’s hands. It clattered to the floor.

  “What are you doing?” Chuck thundered.

  “I don’t want anyone’s blood on my hands,” Mikey said through gritted teeth. “Nothing is worth that. Not this restaurant, not anything. You hear me?”

  Chuck heard him, and I heard him, too.

  But I had the feeling blood was going to be on his hands—and Chuck’s too—if they didn’t come up with the ten grand.

  Fast.

  SIXTEEN

  “Is everything okay?”

  All three of turned to the entrance of the restaurant.

  Lance Larson was standing in the doorway. He was wearing a different O’Rourke’s t-shirt, a white one with a green logo, and khakis, and he’d swapped his thick-framed black glasses for a pair of wire-rimmed ones, which completely changed his appearance.

  “Everything’s fine,” Mikey said in a clipped tone.

  Lance glanced at Chuck. “I heard some arguing in here and thought I should make sure everything was okay.”

  “Can I help you with something?” Mikey’s tone was polite but a muscle in his temple pulsed, and I could tell he was still upset over the conversation he’d just had with Chuck.