"Did you spend much time over at Dottie's?"
"I took Eva lunch a few times," he said, "and visited with Dottie a bit, but no, I didn't."
"Do you recognize these SUVs?" I asked.
"One of them could be her son's, but it's hard to see in the photo. And I wasn't usually paying attention to the vehicles in the driveway when I was there," he added.
"I'm so sorry about Eva," I said.
His face darkened. "I'm not just sorry," he said. "I'm heartbroken."
"You two were serious?"
He sighed. "We'd been seeing each other for almost six months, and I'd never known anyone like her. She was such a sweet, kind soul... she didn't deserve what happened to her." He looked up at me, and his eyes were angry. "I'll tell you what. I'm going to get the guy who did that to her."
A shiver went down my spine. There was a coldness in his voice that scared me a little bit. "Do you think you know who it was?"
"It's obvious, isn't it?" he said. "Dottie's self-absorbed son Jessie. He's been pushing Dottie to give him control of her finances for all this time, and Eva was telling Dottie not to do it."
"So you think it was Jessie."
"Who else could it have been? Eva dies, and the next day Dottie's in the home and the house is on the market." He jabbed angrily at the canvas, smearing the carefully applied paint, then swore under his breath and hurled the paintbrush across his studio. "I can't work. I'm too angry." As I sat quietly, he washed his hands, dried them roughly with a towel, and jammed a brownie into his mouth.
The air in the studio had the heaviness and threat of a building storm, and all I wanted to do was get back in my truck. I still had questions, though. "Did you talk to the police about your suspicions?" I asked when he had finished a second brownie and his breathing had slowed a bit.
"I did, but it's pointless," he said. "I'm an outsider. Rooster's known him for decades. He'll never believe me."
"Deputy Shames might," I suggested.
"She might, but with that numbskull Rooster running the show, what would it matter?" he asked.
Unfortunately, I had to admit he had a point. "Did Jessie ever threaten Eva?" I asked.
He nodded. "She was getting nasty notes. And phone calls, late at night. They were anonymous, of course, but I'm sure it was him; it got so bad she was afraid to be in her house alone."
"That sounds horrible," I said. "Did she report them the police?"
"She did," he said. "Rooster ignored her, of course. And now this." He swiped at his eyes. "She wanted me to stay with her, but I couldn't leave June here alone every night." He grimaced. "She'd told me the day before that she was scared, but I never thought anything would happen to her at work. I should have been there."
"Who was she afraid of?"
He darted a glance at me. "I'm not sure," he said, but I wasn't convinced.
"Who do you think was sending the notes?"
"Let's just say some people didn't appreciate the level of care she provided her clients."
That didn't tell me who had threatened her, but it did narrow it down. "Was it someone from the nursing home?" I asked.
His lips tightened. "That was a real three-ring circus, too," he said. "She told me all about it; that place was a racket."
"Why?"
"It was all about the money at that place. Eva told me all she wanted was for her clients to have a good quality of life, but the people who ran the place kept accusing her of 'interfering.' They treat those people like cattle." The muscles in his jaw worked. "I wish I'd been there to help her that day at Dottie's. I could have protected her."
"You couldn't be with her every minute of every day," I reminded him. "It's not like she was out walking alone at night."
"But what was she doing out there by the creek? That's not like her at all. She never would have left one of her clients like that, especially not with a storm coming."
"She didn't have her phone when we found her," I said, "but it wasn't in the house either. I wonder if someone called or texted her for a meeting?"
"A meeting out by the creek?"
"I don't know," I said. "I can't think why else she'd go out there." I took a deep breath. "Do you know if she might have been seeing anyone else?"
"No," he said, shaking his head vehemently. "It was just us." Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. "After all the bad relationships, I finally find a good one, and now... now she's gone forever." He put his head between his hands and wept. I walked over to him and put a hand on his back. There was nothing I could do to make it better. All I could do was to be there for him as he grieved.
After a long moment, he swiped at his eyes again and sat up straight. "I need to get myself together."
"No, you don't," I told him gently. "Grief takes time."
"But I have to be there for June Bug," he said.
"That's true," I admitted. "But take it easy on yourself. It's a big loss."
"I guess you're right," he said. "But I have to find out what happened to her. And whoever killed her is going to pay the price."
As he spoke, June peeked around the doorway. I wondered how much she'd heard.
"Hey, June Bug," Edward said. "Lucy brought brownies. Want one?"
"Sure," she said, and took a small one from the edge of the plate.
"Nice to meet you," I told her. "How are you finding living in Buttercup?"
"It's okay," she said with a shrug.
"I hear you and Ethan Kramer hang out," I said.
Her face became guarded, and she shrugged. "We're just in the same English class," she said, and grabbed another brownie. "I've got homework," she said shortly, and vanished.
"What the heck was that all about?" Edward asked, looking puzzled.
I waited until I heard a door slam shut somewhere in the house before answering. "I don't know if you know, but there's a rumor that June and Ethan have been sneaking out at night together lately."
He blinked at me. "What?"
"I can't be one hundred percent sure, but that's what I've heard. Any idea what they might be up to?"
"No," he said blankly. "I guess I've been so caught up in my work and in Eva that I just assumed everything was okay with June." He glanced at the doorway she'd disappeared through a little while back. "What do you think they've been doing?" He blanched. "You don't think they..."
"I don't know," I said. "Ethan's sister Brittany said he came home covered in white stuff the other day. So maybe there's something else going on. But I know Ethan's mom is worried."
"I'm worried too," he said. "Sounds like it's time for a conversation."
I was glad he was taking it seriously. "Parenting sounds like so much fun," I said.
"It can be an absolute joy," he said. "I love June Bug more than I've ever loved anyone. But it's hard work. And you never know if you're doing the right thing." He grimaced. "I moved to Buttercup because she wasn't thriving in the suburbs, in that hypercompetitive school system, where everyone is on three soccer teams and cheerleading and drill team and all that. I thought she'd have a better chance of finding her tribe in a slower-paced town, but so far it hasn't worked out that way. And now, if she's getting into trouble..."
"We don't know what she's doing yet," I reassured him. "I'm sure Molly would be more than happy to talk, so you can figure things out together."
"You think?"
"I'll check with her," I said.
He sighed. "Everything's just going south, isn't it? At first, Buttercup seemed like a dream come true. I met Eva, June seemed to be doing better... and now Eva's gone and June Bug's getting into who knows what?"
"Life is good at curve balls," I said, thinking of Dottie and the tornado and my missing kid, Cinnamon. "I guess we just have to do the best we can to handle them. I really am sorry about Eva, though."
"I'm sorry, too," he said. "And soon," he added in a tone of voice that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, "I won't be the only one who's sorry."
14
"What brings you here?" I asked as I walked over to meet him at the top of the drive.
"I missed you," he said, giving me a peck on the lips. "I know it's late notice, but I was wondering if you were up for dinner."
"That sounds terrific," I said. "I can whip up something here, or we can go out; whichever works for me!"
"I thought we'd head over to Bubba's Barbecue," he said. "I'm kind of in the mood for brisket."
"That sounds great," I said. "Let me just get cleaned up and we'll head over. We’ve got a lot to catch up on."
"We do?" he asked.
"You have no idea," I said, giving him a quick peck before going to get changed.
When I emerged from my bedroom a few minutes later, Tobias was in the rocking chair on the front porch with Chuck sprawled across his lap. Tobias patted my poodle's roundish tummy. "Looks like the diet dog food isn't doing the trick," he said.
"He's not a fan," I said. "I keep having to doctor it to get him to eat."
"What does 'doctor' mean?" Tobias asked. "Are we talking cucumber slices?"
"Not exactly," I admitted. "At any rate," I said, changing the subject, "how about that barbecue?"
"We'll have to talk about this more at your next vet appointment, young man," Tobias told Chuck in a stern voice, then gently put him on the floor and stood up. "Ready?"
"Absolutely," I said.
A few minutes later, we were headed across the rolling hills of Buttercup toward Bubba's, home of the best barbecue in Fayette County as far as I was concerned. The pecan pie was to die for, too. As we drove, I filled him in on the chicken coop vandalism and the creepy scarecrow.
"Did you report it?"
"I did," I said, "but I haven’t heard back."
"I don’t like it," he said. "Maybe you should stay with me for a few days."
"No," I said. "I don’t want to leave the farm."
He sighed. "Any word on what happened to Eva?"
"No, but I had a disturbing conversation with Edward Bartsch," I told him. "He's convinced Dottie's son killed Eva."
Tobias gripped the steering wheel. "What? Why?"
"You know Dottie's place is already under contract, right?"
"Yeah. To a judge, from what I hear, under the auspices of some kind of real estate company."
"I'm not sure that's good news," I replied, wondering what was in store for Dottie's property. "At any rate, I got the feeling Edward thinks Eva was trying to talk Dottie out of giving Jessie power of attorney, or whatever she gave him to let him sell the house, and that he killed her to get her out of the way."
"Did he talk to Rooster about it?"
"He told me he did. He also told me it didn't go well."
"Big surprise there. What about the deputy?"
"I suggested that, too," I said. "I'm worried, though. And apparently his daughter June has been sneaking out with Ethan Kramer, and Edward didn't know anything about that."
"How do you know anything about that?"
"I heard it from Molly and her daughter Brittany," I said.
"All kinds of intrigue going on," he said. "Speaking of intrigue, I did get a call on a found kid..."
My heart surged. "You did?"
"Yes," he said, "but it wasn't Cinnamon. I'm so sorry, honey." He put a hand on my knee.
"She's probably gone, isn't she?" I asked sadly.
"I like to keep hope alive," he said, "but being away from her mother for so long... the odds aren't in her favor, unfortunately."
I sighed. "I know," I said. "I just wish I could have done something to prevent it. Maybe if I hadn't gone to Dottie's..."
"Going to help Dottie was the right thing to do," he reassured me. "You can't second-guess yourself. Things like this happen sometimes."
"I know," I said. "It's just so sad."
He patted my knee and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. We sat in silence, both lost in our thoughts, until he turned into the busy parking lot of Bubba's.
The brisket was tender and smoky as always, and I had to resist the urge to order a second plate, instead restricting myself to dessert. We'd just finished the last bit of pecan pie when my phone rang. It was Margaret Simmons, the owner of Buttercup Weavers and Knitters.
"You have to come down here right now..." She sounded frantic.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I don't know how to say this, but..."
"Just spit it out," I said.
"Okay. Okay." She took a deep breath that sounded like she might be hyperventilating. Finally, she said, "There's a dead man in my craft room."
15
"Wait," I said. "What?"
"In my craft room," she repeated. "There's a dead man."
"Who is it?" I asked, gripping the phone.
"I don't know," she said. "His face is... it's all green."
"Green?"
"Yes. I think someone..." she gulped. "Someone dyed him to death."
Tobias and I got to Buttercup Weavers and Knitters before Rooster or any of his deputies. Margaret was sitting in the front room of the store, clutching a soft wool blanket and rocking back and forth, her face drained of color.
"Stay here," I told her as Tobias and I headed to the back. "We're just going to see if we can figure out who it is."
The man in question was, in fact, green. His face was stained with dye, as was most of his formerly plaid shirt, and he was lying in the middle of the craft room floor, trailing what looked like plant material from his thinning hair.
"Who is it?" Tobias asked.
I squinted at him; I was pretty sure I knew who it was, but with all the green dye, it was hard to be sure. Then I looked at the class ring glittering on the fourth finger of his right hand and my stomach sank. "I think it's Dottie's son Jessie," I said.
Tobias looked at me, his face grim. "Do you think Edward might have... you know?"
"I don't know," I said, but I felt sick. "Let's not mention that just yet, okay?"
"That could be considered obstructing an investigation," he pointed out.
"I said yet," I repeated.
"All right. If Rooster's track record weren't so bad, I'd object more. The question is, what is he doing in a knitting store?" Tobias asked. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost eight o'clock. Doesn't this place close at five?"
"Unless Margaret is hosting a workshop, it does," I confirmed.
"And why would he come to a yarn store? I don't want to stereotype, but he doesn't strike me as the fiber arts type."
"Maybe he was picking up something up for Dottie," I suggested. Although from what I knew of Jessie, running thoughtful errands wasn't something he often did for his mother. "Trying to ease the transition to the new place?"
"That seems more like something her daughter would do," Tobias said.
"I talked to her earlier today, incidentally" I said. "She was coming up to talk with her mother."
"Oh," Tobias said slowly. "And here is her brother. Dead."
"I suppose it's possible she was involved," I said. "But I don't want to jump to conclusions just yet. Besides, it's possible the same person killed both of them."
"Or it could be a revenge killing," Tobias said again. "If Jessie killed Eva, Edward might have decided to take justice into his own hands; I hate to keep saying it, but it's the obvious solution."
"Edward's strong, and killing someone this way would require physical strength," I pointed out. "It took some muscle to keep his head submerged."
"Assuming that's how he died," Tobias said. "We don't know if the dye job was just the icing on the cake, so to speak."
"I don't see any knife or bullet holes," I pointed out.
"No, but poison doesn't leave holes. I'd be curious to find out how he spent the day before coming here."
"And if his hands are green," I said. "That dye is pretty powerful, it seems."
"That's true.
" Tobias scanned the room, then touched the back pockets of Jessie's jeans. "Do you see a cell phone anywhere?" he asked.
"No." Just like Eva. Why were both phones missing? "Maybe Opal down at the station can round up some cell phone records."
"Be careful," Tobias warned me. "If you're going to investigate, please try not to broadcast it too loudly. I don't want you making yourself a target."
Deputy Shames appeared in the doorway. "Sorry to interrupt," she said. "You know this is a crime scene, right?"
"I know," I said, blushing.
"Why are you here, then?" she asked.
"Margaret called us," I said. "We came down to keep her company."
"She's in the front room though," the deputy pointed out.
"We were looking to see if anything could be done," Tobias said.
She didn't look convinced. "Any idea who it is?"
"We think it's Dottie's son Jessie."
Her right eyebrow quirked up. "Being connected to Dottie seems to be a risky business, doesn't it?"
"Maybe it's just a coincidence," I suggested.
"Maybe. But I don't hold much with coincidence when it comes to crime."
Unfortunately, I had to admit I agreed with her.
The next morning dawned bright and clear, with a quick rain shower that seemed to wash away all the darkness of the past few days and make everything fresh and clean. Unfortunately, however, things weren't that simple; two people were dead, and I still had no idea why. I spent the first few hours of the morning checking on my fledgling vegetables, feeding the chickens and collecting eggs, and doing my dairy chores. I kept a sharp eye out for any sign of Cinnamon, but I was starting to lose hope. As I finished milking the goats, finding some measure of peace in the rhythmic sound of the milk hitting the side of the pail, my thoughts turned to Eva and Jessie. Who would want to kill them both?
Did they both know something someone thought they shouldn't?
As I glanced over toward Dottie's land, another thought popped into my head. Now that Jessie was gone, could Dottie nullify the sale? I knew there was an option period; could either the seller or the buyer choose to opt out? It wasn't exactly the best time to bring it up with Dottie, I knew, but if Jessie had sold her property against her will, I didn't have much choice.
Dyeing Season Page 10
