by Jeff Shelby
“I don’t believe you,” I said.
She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “I don’t care.”
“I think you were mad about Mikey leaving,” I said. If she wasn’t going to tell me, I’d just go ahead and lay out the case against her. Because I knew she wouldn’t be able to refute it. “You wanted to get back at him. You started with egging the restaurant.” I watched for a change in expression, but she just stared at me, her eyes shooting daggers. “But I guess that wasn’t good enough. So a few nights ago, you headed over and stole the statue.”
“You are insane,” she growled. “How would I steal that statue? It’s enormous.”
“You used Martin’s truck.”
She actually laughed. “I did what?”
“You used your husband’s truck,” I repeated. “He told me about being sick, and how he woke up to hearing you outside parking his truck. You told him you just needed to get the mower out of the shed, but he was so out of it, he had no idea where you went...or how long you were gone for.”
“I moved the truck,” she said. “Moved it. To get the mower out. That’s it.”
“That’s what you told your husband,” I said, nodding. “But how does he know that for sure?”
“Because he was the one who initially parked the truck in front of the shed?” Dawn said. “And because he heard me mowing the lawn the next morning?”
“Why did you take his truck at night? Why not do it during the day?”
“You are so dumb,” she said, looking at me disdainfully. “I didn’t take his truck; I moved it. And I did it at night because I work all day long.” She waved her hand around the restaurant. “Did you forget? I’m basically running this place by myself right now.”
She could deny all she wanted; I knew the truth, and I was on a roll. “You need to come clean, Dawn. About the statue and Kenny. If you confess and we get both back, Mikey and Chuck might agree to not press charges.” I had no idea if this was true, but it might be a possibility.
Dawn wrinkled her brow. “Kenny? Who is Kenny?”
I frowned. Her confusion was almost convincing. “The chef from O’Rourke’s.”
“What does he have to do with all of this?”
“He’s missing. Kidnapped.”
Her fingers clenched around the rag still in her hands. “Kidnapped?”
I nodded.
“And you think I had something to do with kidnapping a guy?”
“Unless you tell me otherwise...”
She flung the washcloth at my face. I ducked and it sailed over my head.
“How dare you?” she seethed. “How dare you accuse me all of these horrible crimes! I have done nothing! Nothing but try to keep this restaurant going, virtually by myself.”
For the first time, a flicker of doubt surfaced. Could Dawn actually be telling the truth? Was it possible that she truly did have nothing to do with the missing statue and the missing chef?
“I would never steal something,” she said. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. “And I wouldn’t kidnap someone, either. What kind of person do you think I am?”
My gaze darted to the floor. I didn’t want to admit out loud what I thought of her.
“Sure, I’m mad at Mikey,” she said. “And, yeah, I egged the back door of the restaurant. I was upset and it felt like a safe, harmless way to vent my frustration.” Her voice shook with emotion. “But steal someone else’s property? I would never do that. And kidnap someone? Not ever.”
My sense of unease grew. Dawn was presenting a convincing defense. Not so much in providing an alibi, but her outrage was so strong that it was hard to believe she was faking it. I didn’t think the emotions on display now were something she could manufacture.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. If Dawn wasn’t responsible for the crimes that had been committed, who was?
“Besides, where would I store a statue that size?” Dawn was still raging. “It’s not like I’m gonna stick it in my backyard.”
My hopes that I’d solved the mystery deflated even more. As much as I hated to admit it, she was making an awful lot of sense.
I sighed. “Well, if you didn’t do it, who did?”
“How am I supposed to know?” She threw up her hands. “I just run a restaurant. You’re the one who thinks she’s a detective.”
My face warmed. “I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t believe I was apologizing to Dawn Putnam.
“At least now I know what you really think of me,” Dawn said, her lips pursed, her frown even deeper.
“That’s not fair,” I said. “I went with the information I had. You've had nothing nice to say about Mikey. You and I both know he was a great employee, but you're acting like you're happy to be rid of him. Like he was a burden to you. But he was a good cook and he’s a good guy. It made no sense that you'd be happy to be rid of him. You're clearly angry at him.” I paused. “That seemed like enough motivation for you to undermine his new restaurant.”
She set her hands back on her hips. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Just because I'm angry with someone or because I don't like someone doesn't mean I want to steal from them,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Maybe you should try looking a little harder.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Dawn’s chuckle was harsh. “It means the person responsible is obvious. You’re just too stupid to realize it.”
I ignored her insult. “You know who did it?”
She nodded.
My pulse quickened. “Who?”
“The only person who had a real motive to do so,” Dawn said. “Lance Larson.”
TWENTY THREE
“TELL ME EVERYTHING.”
Dawn smiled thinly. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“I need a drink.”
Dawn and I both glanced at the little girl perched behind the bar. She was holding her empty cup. Dawn yanked it out of her hand and filled it to the brim, then handed it back to her.
“Um, that’s probably a little too much,” I said, waiting for Olivia to dump the entire cup down the front of her pink sweatshirt.
Dawn glanced dismissively at the girl. “She’s fine.”
I anticipated spillage in about thirty seconds, which meant Dawn would probably blow up and then concentrate all of her energy on cleaning up...which meant I wouldn’t be able to get any of the answers I wanted.
“Why do you think Lance Larson is responsible for the theft? And...the kidnapping?”
Dawn didn’t respond.
“You know,” I said, digging around in my purse, “I know who might be interested in hearing what you know.”
“I don’t have to talk to anyone,” Dawn said.
My fingers closed around my phone. “You will if Sheriff Lewis takes you in for questioning.”
Dawn froze, and I wondered if she was thinking about the time not so long ago when she had been suspect number one in her brother’s murder. She was probably recalling with vivid clarity just how incompetent the sheriff had been during his investigation. And she had certainly forgotten that I was the reason we’d found the true culprit and that she wasn’t sitting behind bars for a murder she didn’t commit.
“Fine,” Dawn gritted out.
“Uh-oh,” the little girl wailed.
Dawn and I both looked at the tipped over glass, and the liquid that was dripping from the counter and pooling in her lap.
Dawn cursed under her breath. “Here.” She reached for another towel and tossed it at Olivia.
I frowned. Was she really expecting a preschooler to clean it up?
I hurried around to the other side of the bar so I was standing between Dawn and the little girl. I took the towel from Olivia’s lap and then picked her up, setting her on her feet so I could clean up the puddle on the chair. She started to cry.
“Don’t just stand there,” I said to Dawn.
Dawn looed horrified. “What do you want me
to do?”
“Get another towel. Clean her up!”
Dawn dug out another towel and began to dab at Olivia’s clothes.
“Is everything okay?” Charlotte was back holding a stack of dirty dishes. She frowned. “Did you spill your drink, Olivia?”
The girl whimpered and nodded.
“It wasn’t her fault,” I said quickly. “Dawn put too much in her cup.”
Dawn shot a glare in my direction.
“Here,” I said, reaching out for the dishes Charlotte was holding. “I’ll take those. Why don’t you run Olivia to the bathroom and get her cleaned up? She’s probably a little sticky from the soda.”
Charlotte cast an uncertain glance at Dawn.
“It’s fine,” I told her firmly. “Dawn and I will hold down the fort.”
Charlotte reached for Olivia’s hand and scooped her up onto her hip. She hurried toward the bathroom.
As soon as she was gone, I dropped the towel. “Tell me.”
“You are impossible,” Dawn said.
“I’ve been called worse,” I said. “Even by you.”
“Fine,” Dawn snapped. “But only because you’re threatening me.”
“I’m not threatening you.”
Her eyes widened. “Yes, you are. You just said you were going to call Sheriff Lewis!”
I didn’t want to argue with her. If she wanted to think I was threatening her, fine. I just wanted answers.
“Why do you think Lance is responsible?”
“Look,” Dawn said. “He was forced to sell his restaurant. How would you feel if you were in his shoes?”
“Upset,” I said. “Obviously. The same way you’re upset Mikey left you. But that doesn’t prove he did anything.”
“I know that,” she snapped. “He came in here one night a few weeks ago and got super drunk.”
“Okay...” I waited for her to elaborate.
“And he told me everything.”
“He told you he was going to steal the statue and kidnap his former chef?” I asked in disbelief.
“Of course not,” she retorted.
“Well, what do you mean by everything?”
“He was upset about the restaurant foreclosing. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He had some ideas about little food stands—some ridiculous thing called a taco dog—but he was strapped for cash and he was just really down about losing O’Rourke’s.”
None of this was new information. And none of this proved he had anything to do with either crime.
I said as much to Dawn.
“He didn’t tell me exactly what he was going to do,” she said. She grabbed another towel and a bottle of cleaner. She sprayed the bar and began to wipe. “But he said that he was going to do whatever it took to get back at the new owner. And that the new restaurant would open over his dead body. Those were his exact words.”
I thought this over for a minute. “Just because he said those things doesn’t mean he would act on them,” I said. “You said yourself that he was drunk. People say stupid things when they drink.”
“People say stupid things when they don’t drink too,” she countered. “Like accusing people of a crime they didn’t commit.”
I felt the heat rise in my cheeks again.
“Look, I’m not saying for sure that he did it,” Dawn said as she sprayed the counter again. “But he has the motive and he said he was going to do something.” She paused. “And he has the ability to store the statue.”
My gaze flew back to her. This was news to me. “He does?”
She nodded.
“Where?”
“His property is between here and Winslow. He has a couple of acres, from what I remember, with a couple pole barns.”
“How do you know that?”
“What?” she said. “You don’t believe me?”
“I’m just asking how you know. Have you been there before?”
She glanced down at the counter. She looked uncomfortable.
“Dawn?”
She sighed. “Martin and I were out messing around one day. Just hiking through the woods. We got a little...frisky.” I’d never seen Dawn blush before but I was pretty sure her cheeks were a slighter shade of pink. “And, um, we disturbed a hornet’s nest. Martin had dozens of stings so I ran for help. Lance’s property was where I ended up.”
I had so many questions. Was Martin allergic? Had he needed to go to the hospital? Was Dawn clothed when she sprinted for help?
But none of that mattered to the case we were discussing. I needed to focus on that.
Pole barns. Dawn said Lance’s property had pole barns. Those would definitely be big enough to house the world’s largest cow statue. And a remote property on a couple of acres would also provide a remote spot to hold a hostage.
Hostage. I still couldn’t wrap my brain around why Lance would kidnap Kenny. He was his former chef, after all, and he’d played the grieving friend rather well when he heard the news. Perhaps too well.
What Dawn was telling me made sense, especially because Lance let it slip that he knew one person was responsible for both crimes.
Was that because the one person was him?
“I need to go,” I said, tossing the towel I’d been using onto the bar. “Tell Charlotte I’ll be back for Olivia. Just as soon as I...” I paused. “Just tell her I’ll be back.”
“Just as soon as you crack the case that I just solved for you?” Dawn said with a smirk.
“Something like that,” I muttered.
“You could thank me, you know,” she called as I headed to the door.
I knew I could.
But I wasn’t going to.
TWENTY FOUR
I WAS DRIVING AT A turtle-like pace, with several cars speeding past me on the county road I was traveling down.
But I was going slow for good reason.
Dawn had given me vague directions to Lance Larson’s property and I didn’t want to miss the turn-off. The more I mulled over what she told me, the more determined I was that he was the one behind the theft. I still couldn’t quite explain the kidnapping, but I was hoping he could fill in those details once he confessed to stealing the statue.
The directions Dawn had provided were not exactly precise. She’d mentioned something about Lance’s house being on the left-hand side of the road, with a dirt driveway that was situated between a patch of pine trees and a rusted mailbox. As I drove along the road that led to Winslow, it soon became evident that there were several patches of pine trees, and nearly every mailbox lining the road fit Dawn’s description.
I sighed. Now that I had a solid lead, one that might actually lead me to the location of the statue, impatience was kicking in. I wanted to be able to find the statue for Mikey, figure out if the kidnapping actually happened, and then go back to life as normal. Well, almost normal. I’d just volunteered to babysit a preschooler for an indefinite period of time, but I was convinced that it would be a piece of cake compared to solving this particular mystery. Besides, I’d raised two kids. I knew what I was in for.
My phone buzzed, and I reached into my purse. My daughter’s name lit up the screen, almost as if she knew I’d just been thinking about her.
I debated answering it. I knew I was getting close to Lance’s house—there were only so many driveways on the road between Latney and Winslow—and I knew that Laura had a tendency to talk. A lot. But I also knew that if I didn’t respond, she would quickly jump to all sorts of conclusions about my whereabouts and my well-being.
I sighed again. It was easier just to answer. I pulled over to the shoulder, the car listing as the wheels transitioned from pavement to gravel.
“Hi, sweetie,” I said.
“Where are you?”
“What? I’m in my car. Why?”
“It sounds weird. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine,” I said patiently. “Although I am heading to an...appointment. Is there any way I can call you back when I’m done?”
“An appointment?” she asked. She must have noticed the slight hesitation when I responded. “What kind of appointment?”
Laura was like a bloodhound. She was also acutely adept at detecting when I wasn’t telling the truth.
“Just an errand for Mikey. You remember him, right? The cook at the Wicked Wich? He’s opening a new restaurant.”
“Yeah, you told me that a few weeks ago,” she said. “And which is it? An errand or an appointment?”
“What?”
“First you said you had an appointment and then you said you were running an errand. Which is it?”
“Oh.” I tried not sound as flustered as I felt. “Um, it’s an errand. I’m...picking something up for him.” I knew this wasn’t exactly true. I mean, I wouldn’t physically be able to transport the world’s largest cow statue once I found it, especially if I needed a circus truck, but I could at least let him know it was safe and help arrange for safe transportation back to the restaurant.
“Mother.”
I winced. I hated when she called me that. It meant a lecture was coming. Or an outburst. And I was never prepared to deal with either of them.
“What are you not telling me?” she demanded.
“Nothing,” I murmured.
“Are you working on another case again?”
Laura had been my biggest and loudest critic when it came to my involvement in helping to solve local crimes. Calling her a worrier was a massive understatement. Everything tended to reach crisis levels with her, and every time she heard I was involved in helping one of the town’s residents, she became convinced that my death was imminent.
“No,” I said firmly, not batting an eyelash at the blatant lie I’d just told her. I was doing it just as much for her as I was for me. “I’m running an errand for a friend. That’s it.” I paused. “And I don’t appreciate getting the third degree from my daughter.”
There was silence on the other end.
“I just worry about you,” she finally said.
“I know you do. But I’m a grown woman and I can take care of myself,” I said, gentling my voice. “Now, is there a reason why you called, or did you just want to say hello?”
