Gluten for Punishment

by Nancy J. Parra

  This time I touched her hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you be homeless. That’s what friends are for.”

  She sent me a wan smile. “Craig said Kip and I could move in with him, but I’m not ready for that yet. I’m really not ready to let go of my inn.”

  “Then let’s do whatever it takes to make it work for you.”

  “Got a winning lotto ticket somewhere?” she asked.

  “No, but I can take a couple hours a day off work and ensure you can work on your applications. Meghan’s working out nicely. I can run Kip around and supervise here whenever you need me.”

  “You would do that?”

  I rolled my eyes. “All you had to do was tell me and I’d have helped sooner.”

  “I’m sorry.” She winced. “I promise not to keep secrets from you ever again. Scout’s honor.” She crossed her heart and twined her fingers, raising them in the air.

  “I’d believe you, but I happen to know you were never a scout.” I stood up. “Seriously. We’re friends. Stop keeping things from me. When things are bad for me, you’re there. Let me return the favor.”

  “I will.” She rose and gave me a hug.

  “Now, do you need anything today?” I looked deeply into her eyes. She looked tired but relieved.

  “No, I’m good for now. But I promise to call should something come up.”

  “Good.” I nodded. “I’ve been your friend longer than Craig. Don’t push me away.”

  “I know.” She ran a hand through her perfect hair, which, annoyingly, bounced right back into place. “He prefers we think of each other as a couple now. We should come first, friends after.”

  I gave her a funny look. “Okay, I know that sounds kind of romantic, but at the same time it also sounds like an abuser. You know, first they get you to fall in love, then they isolate you from your family.”

  “Craig wouldn’t do that.” Tasha crossed her arms. “He’s really romantic, that’s all.”

  I hugged her again. “Call me if you need anything. I don’t care what time it is, day or night. Promise?”

  “I promise.” She hugged me back and I felt as if the world was suddenly right-side-up again.

  CHAPTER 29

  The problem with really cool, self-sufficient friends is they forgot to rely on you. Thank goodness my family didn’t have that problem. My mom had always been the matriarch of her large brood and, since she’d died and left me her house, I had sort of fallen into the role.

  “I made you some rolls and pasta,” I said when Tim staggered into the kitchen dirty, grimy, and exhausted from his night shift tossing boxes. It was four A.M., the end of day for him and the start of mine.

  “Thanks.” He set his lunch box down on the counter, grabbed a big glass of water, and drank like a man out of the desert. “Hey.” He jerked his chin toward the answering machine, which now had a flashing thirty on it. “Are you ever going to call Rosa, Joan, and Eleanor? They’ve started leaving messages on my cell phone.”

  “Eleanor is in on it now?”

  “She gets the Oiltop Times online,” Tim said, his daisy tattoo peeking out from his shirt sleeve. “They care about you, you know.”

  “Sure.” I hit Play on the message machine.

  “Toni, this is Joan. What the hell have you gotten yourself into? My friend Sally tells me that you are a murder suspect. Do you know how embarrassing that is for me?” I hit Stop and raised my right eyebrow.

  “Okay.” Tim wiped a hand over his tired face. “Joan and Rosa are a bit self-centered. I thought you were at least talking to Eleanor.”

  “She and Rob took the kids to Disney for seven days,” I explained. “They’ve been saving for that trip for two years.”

  “But they are your sisters. You shouldn’t keep things from them.”

  “I know.” The truth hurt. Wasn’t I mad at Tasha for doing this very thing? “I promise to call them all once things settle down.”

  “Call Eleanor today.” Tim filled a giant bowl with pasta. “She’ll handle Joan and Rosa.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I know.”

  I looked at Tim with fresh eyes. How had he changed so dramatically without my noticing? “Um, listen, I was wondering what you know about Sherry Williams?” I leaned against the counter and sipped espresso.

  “The pageant queen?” Tim raised an eyebrow. “Not much. We might have been in the same class in high school, but she ran with the snooty girls.” He sat down at the table and dug in. “Why?”

  I shrugged. “I have the feeling that she might be connected to the murders.”

  “Really?” He chewed on the thought for a moment and swallowed. “I can’t say as it doesn’t seem impossible. That woman is ruthless and everyone knows it. She sets her sights on something and gets it, even if it means knocking off a competitor to do it.”

  I was surprised by Tim’s assessment. “Why do you say that?”

  “Oh, God, everyone knows the story . . .” He waved his fork and then dug out more pasta.

  “What story?”

  “Of how she made Miss Butler County,” he said with his mouth full.

  “I’ve never heard it.”

  He swallowed. “I can’t believe that. Were you living in a bubble back in high school?”

  “You all were two years ahead of me. Excuse me if I was mired in my own teenage angst.” I sipped my coffee.

  “Patsy Goodman was the returning runner-up the year Sherry won. According to the people who know these things, Patsy was a shoo-in to win. In fact, Sherry overheard the judges tell Patsy after her interview that she needn’t worry. The crown was hers.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Sherry told Emma Hoote. Emma told everyone else.”

  “If that’s true, it certainly doesn’t seem fair. Isn’t the interview portion of a pageant the first step? How could the judges have decided already?”

  Tim gave me a look that said I was a naive simpleton. “Pageants aren’t about who’s best. They’re about who you know in the business.”

  I let that sit for a moment and opted not to comment on the fact my brother knew more about the pageant world than I did. That was a topic for another conversation. “If that’s true, then how did Sherry win?”

  “Rumor is Sherry slipped hot pepper oil into Patsy’s makeup the night of the pageant. Patsy’s eyes watered and her face swelled up bad enough she had to go to the emergency room.”

  “You can’t win if you aren’t in the show.” I pursed my lips.

  “Exactly. The judges didn’t have any idea who to vote for because all the other girls were filler for Patsy’s win.”

  “And Sherry was the next best thing.”

  Tim forked up more pasta and nodded. “Exactly,” he said through his full mouth.

  “That’s pretty ruthless.” But putting hot pepper oil in makeup was more subtle than hitting someone over the head with a blunt object.

  “You should hear the stories about how she made Miss Kansas.”

  I glanced at the clock. Darn it, I had to get to work. “I wish I could, but I don’t have the time. Let me ask you this . . . Do you think Sherry’s capable of murdering someone?”

  Tim sat back thoughtfully and took a swig from his glass. He rubbed his chin. “I suppose she could, if someone got in the way of what she wanted.” Tim’s mouth went flat. “Are you still poking your nose into George Meister’s murder?”

  I bit my upper lip and kept my attention focused on picking up my keys and purse.

  “Darn it, Toni, didn’t you learn anything when you got Ed Bruner killed?”

  My mouth fell open. Outrage bloomed in my gut along with a healthy dose of guilt. “I did not get Ed killed. I can’t believe you said that.”

  He shrugged. “I’m just saying what everyone in town is thinking.”

  “Everyone is wrong.” I hoped. Grabbing my purse, I stomped toward the door.

  “Do you need an escort?” Tim hollered after me.

 
; “No!” The heat of my anger got me out the door and into the van and down the street before it cooled. Then sadness took over.

  How would I ever fit in if everyone hated me? I grabbed a tissue from the box wedged between the seats and dabbed at the tears in my eyes. If I were being honest with myself, fitting in wasn’t exactly what I was trying to do in Oiltop. Not really. After all, I had started a gluten-free bakery in the heart of wheat country. I guess in my own way I was still rebelling against the small-mindedness of a small town. But it didn’t mean I was responsible for the actions of a killer.

  • • •

  Todd Woles came into the bakery after the morning rush. He wore a smartly tailored Armani suit in dark gray with a pale silver stripe and a pale gray dress shirt to match. His shoes were made of Italian leather and clearly cost more than all my shoes put together. His tie was a pop of color in burnt orange. The man looked as if he belonged in downtown Chicago, not Oiltop, Kansas.

  “I’ve come for the promised free coffee and cookie.” He waved my business card in the air.

  “I’m glad you stopped in.” I put a giant coffee cup and saucer up on the counter in front of him. “The coffee bar is over there. What can I get you to eat? It doesn’t have to be a cookie.”

  “Those pumpkin muffins look great.” He took the cup to the coffee bar and fixed himself a drink.

  I put a chocolate chip pumpkin muffin on a white porcelain plate and took it over to a small table near the windows. “Here you go. Can I join you?”

  Todd waved at the accompanying chair. “Be my guest, it’s not like I get a lot of offers in Oiltop.”

  I grabbed my coffee cup and sat down with him. “It’s a small town, isn’t it?”

  “You mean small-minded?”

  I sipped my coffee. “We didn’t go to school together, did we?”

  “You were four years ahead of me,” Todd said. “I thought about leaving. Hell, I tried to leave, but family and fate kept me here.” He shrugged.

  I laughed. “I know what you mean. I spent the last ten years in Chicago. Then I found myself divorced, my mom died, and here I am. Back in good-ole-boy country.”

  “It’s not all bad.” Todd took a bite of his muffin. “At least the food and coffee are good.”

  “Thanks. How long have you owned the men’s store?”

  “About six years now. I started off as the general manager. It’s a decent living. I enjoy watching the kids come in to pick out prom wear and the young men come to rent a tux for their wedding. Some of the country club set even buy tuxes. It’s a good business.” He sipped his coffee. “You know men, they don’t want to go all the way to Wichita to buy clothes. We offer everything from business wear to tuxes, shoes to wallets.”

  “I remember going with Jimmy Gaster to pick out a tux to match my prom dress. It was kind of weird since I wasn’t really dating Jimmy and didn’t know him well enough to dress him.”

  “Let me guess, old man Shoemaker was no help.”

  “No help at all. He shoved a tux rental catalog at us and said to wave him down when we knew what we wanted.”

  “Business is up 98 percent since I took over,” Todd preened.

  “You must be really good at your job.”

  “As good as you.” He lifted his coffee cup in a toast. “Here’s to being misfits making it in a small town.”

  “Hear, hear.” We clinked cups.

  I sipped and took the plunge. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.” He tilted his head.

  “Why did you come to the memorial? I mean, you hated George, right? Didn’t I hear you had a restraining order out on him?”

  Todd sat back and pursed his lips. “You know about that?”

  “It’s a small town.”

  Todd blew out a breath. “Truth be told, it was my friend Phillip who said we should go. He said it would be good closure on a painful episode. He was right.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Then I had to ask. “Did you really chase Jon Ramsey down Kellogg with your Smart car?”

  Todd laughed. The sound was infectious and I found myself smiling. He had tears in his eyes and wiped at them with a napkin. “Yes, I did. You should have heard him scream.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Best day of my life.”

  “I bet it was. Can I ask you another question?”

  “What?”

  “Would you do it again if you could?”

  He paused and swirled the coffee in his cup, then looked me straight in the eye. “No.” He shook his head and wrinkled his nose. “That incident taught me something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Revenge isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  • • •

  I thought about Todd later that night as I locked the back door of the bakery. He’d been honest about what he’d done and seemed truly sincere about his thoughts on revenge. Time to cross another suspect off my list. “Hey, Toni, you’ve got a visitor.” Grandma Ruth had come out to the bakery to ensure I wasn’t locking up alone. I followed her gaze and saw Sam coming around the corner. “At least I’m pretty sure that nice-looking young man is here to see you and not me.”

  “Grandma, why don’t you go get in the van.”

  “Why, are you ashamed of me?” Her blue eyes sparkled and her wide mouth pouted.

  “No, of course not.”

  “Hi Toni, hello, Mrs. Nathers,” Sam said and reached down and bussed a kiss on Grandma’s leathery cheek. “How are you both tonight?”

  “I’m better now,” Grandma said. “Toni, this boy is a keeper.” She patted his cheek with her wide hand.

  Sam winked at me and straightened. “I tried the front door but you had already locked up, and I thought maybe I’d catch you around back.” He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. He wore a Stetson, and his beard was a rough five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw. He had on a shearling vest over a work shirt and jeans. His giant silver belt buckle gleamed in the parking lot streetlight and proclaimed him a rodeo champ. “I tried calling a couple of times, but you didn’t call me back. I wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

  I flushed at the thought. “I’m sorry, I’ve been a bit preoccupied.”

  “We’ve been working on our suspect list,” Grandma said.

  “How’s that going?” Sam asked.

  “Not as well as we had hoped,” she answered.

  “If it helps, Mrs. Becher called me and told me that Officer Emry had stopped and questioned her about my remodel work at the quilt shop.”

  I winced. “Yes, Meghan and I told him you saved us from Ed Bruner’s threats the night he died.”

  “Toni,” Grandma scolded. “Did you sic that silly officer on this nice boy? Shame on you.”

  “Grandma!”

  “No, Mrs. Nathers, I’m glad,” Sam said. “As soon as Mrs. Becher called me, I went down to the police station and gave a statement. I wanted them to know what I had heard Ed say. If he was threatening you, he might have been threatening the killer.”

  “Did they believe you?” I played with my car keys. We stood a few feet apart under the repaired lamplight. I got the feeling he’d have stood even closer if Grandma hadn’t been there.

  “I think so. Chief Blaylock said they found no evidence you or I were involved in Ed’s death.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Listen, I wanted to know if you have time to catch a drink?”

  It was only 9:30 P.M. and he had a look on his face that was at once begging puppy dog and alpha male promising more if I wanted it. The spit in my mouth dried up.

  “She does,” Grandma said.

  “Grandma!” I admonished.

  “Well, you do.” She was stern. “What do you have in mind, son?”

  “I was thinking the Chinese Supper Club would have a nice quiet table.” He looked from Grandma to me. “Have you eaten?”<
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  “Dinner is a little more complicated than a drink,” I pointed out.

  “True, but if you were to show up at the Chinese Supper Club, I might be at the bar. If I were to see you at the bar, I’d buy you a drink.” He tilted his head, all handsome and twinkly like a charmer with candy. “It’s been over a week since we talked.”

  “She’ll go,” Grandma decided for me. “Just as soon as she drops me by my place.”

  I jiggled the keys around in my hand. “I suppose I could go to the Chinese Supper Club.”

  “Fabulous. Let me walk you both to your van.”

  The suggestion was silly since I was parked a few feet away. Still, it was nice to walk in the quiet with a handsome man. Grandma’s scooter wheels crunched on the gravel. “Wait.” Sam touched my arm to stop me.

  “What?”

  He took a few steps toward the van. “You have a flat.”

  “A what?” I hurried over to the van. Sure enough, someone had slashed two of my tires. “Damn it!” Tires were expensive and necessary when you made deliveries.

  “What is the world coming to?” Grandma asked as she stared at the flat.

  Sam did a quick check around the van and made sure all the doors were still locked. “Do you have spares?”

  I made a face. “I have a single donut tire, which clearly isn’t going to fix this.” I waved at the two tires.

  “Maybe it’s kids pulling Halloween pranks.” Grandma crossed her arms in front of her. “I’ve known some boys to pull some pretty mean things this time of year.”

  “Let’s hope,” I said. It was better than the alternative. I pulled out my phone and called 911. By now I had them on speed dial.

  “This is dispatch, what is your emergency?”

  “Hi, this is Toni Holmes.” Again. “Someone has slashed two tires on my delivery van. It’s parked behind the bakery.”

  “Hey Toni, sorry to hear that. Do you want me to send out an officer?”

  I glanced at Sam, who squatted down beside the tires and stuck his fingers in the wide gash in the rubber. “Yes, please.” I ran a hand through my hair.