Gluten for Punishment

by Nancy J. Parra

  CHAPTER 34

  We arrived at Tasha’s apartment in the carriage house to find Tasha’s mom, Mary, dozing on the couch. Tasha woke her gently.

  “Mom, we’re back.”

  Tasha’s mom sat up. Her blonde hair was cut in a soft shag. Her face had pillow marks from the couch cushions. “Oh, oh, dear, I’m sorry I fell asleep.” She wiped her mouth and blinked at me. “Are you okay?” She stood and gave me a quick hug. I absorbed the heat from her arms and tried to not think of my own mom.

  “I’m okay. I wasn’t home when they broke in and Grandma Ruth was with me when we discovered the damage.”

  She held me at arm’s length. Her soft cream sweater had jack o’ lanterns dancing across the front in a line. She wore a pair of slacks, her feet covered in stockings, her shoes at the door so as not to track anything into the house. “Are you going to stay with Tasha for a while?”

  “The cops thought it was best,” I said and cringed at the quiver in my voice.

  Tasha gave her mom a look and changed the subject. “How was Kip?”

  “He never woke up.” She tugged her sweater into place.

  “You can stay the night if you want,” Tasha offered.

  “No, I can’t.” Her mom headed toward the kitchen to put on her shoes. “I’ve got to be at work at six. But I’ll be around if you need me.” She pointed at me. “That means you, too, dear.”

  “Thanks.” Ever since my mom had died, Tasha’s mom had decided she would mother me. Right now it felt nice. But I knew she had to go to work. Unlike my mom, who’d had Dad’s teacher’s pension to live on, Tasha’s mom had only her own savings. She supplemented them by working in the school cafeteria. The early lunch shift started at six so that hot meals would go out to the kids starting at eleven A.M. It wasn’t hard, and Tasha’s mom said she liked the work. It kept her busy and gave her something to look forward to.

  I made tea as Tasha walked her mom out. Tasha came back into the kitchen and locked the door. I poured hot water into thick mugs and added chamomile tea bags. “Your mom is so nice.”

  “Thanks.” Tasha picked up the tea and moved toward the living room. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go check on Kip.”

  “I’ll come with you.” I followed her down the small hall. I wasn’t ready to be alone just yet.

  Tasha stepped into Kip’s tiny bedroom. I leaned against the door and hugged my warm mug. The scent of the tea wafted around me. Tasha set hers down on the nightstand and leaned down. She tucked the covers around Kip, and softly ran her hand over his hair.

  “Mom?” he asked, not opening his eyes.

  “I’m right here, sweetie,” she said.

  “Okay. Sweet dreams.” He muttered loud enough for me to catch it.

  “Sweet dreams.” She planted a soft kiss on his forehead and my heart squeezed. What would it be like to have kids of my own? I guess first you had to have a man in your life. And since I still wasn’t ready to date, that wasn’t in the cards for me.

  “He’s so sweet,” I said as she stepped out of the room.

  Tasha smiled and sipped her tea. “They all are when they’re sleeping.”

  • • •

  I slept with Tasha. Rather, Tasha slept while I laid there in her bed and stared at the ceiling. Once the fear and numbness wore off, I got mad. Whoever had done this was a coward. Why couldn’t they say what they had to say to my face? I imagined them coming into my room with their big knife and me waiting for them with my daddy’s pump-action rifle. The moment he had raised his knife, I would have simply pulled the trigger and let the twin-barrel rifle do its job.

  It was a nice thought, one that helped me get up out of the bed and pull on Tasha’s clothes. The white tee shirt was too small and the black pants an inch or two short, but the rest fit fine. When we were teens, people sometimes mistook us for sisters, but I think it was simply because we hung around together. Our shapes were not even close to the same. Tasha was a thin blonde and about five-foot-four. I was five-foot-seven and curvy. Ever since she had had Kip, our butts have been the same size, which lent itself to swapping clothes whenever we needed to, like right now.

  I grabbed my coat and purse and headed out of the house, ensuring the door was locked behind me. Tim was waiting in the driveway. The sound of my footsteps on the crunchy gravel echoed through the quiet morning air.

  “Thanks for picking me up.” I crawled into my brother’s warm car.

  “Not a problem.”

  “Have you been to the house yet?”

  His face was set like stone in the light from the dashboard. “No, but I heard it was bad.”

  “Are you sure you want to sleep there?”

  “If you’re asking me if I’m scared . . .” He glanced at me and then back at the road. “I’m not.”

  “Okay. Good.”

  “I heard they got in by breaking a basement window.”

  “That’s what Chief Blaylock said.” I stared out the window and up at the stars, which twinkled in the black sky.

  “It wasn’t anyone who knew us.”

  I turned toward my brother. “What makes you say that?”

  Tim’s hands were tight on the wheel. “Everyone who knows us knows where we keep the spare key.”

  My eyes grew wide. “Of course. They would have gone in through the door.” I sat back. “That narrows the field a bit.”

  “Who’s so pissed at you he would trash the house but didn’t know about the spare key?”

  “Good question.” We pulled into the driveway. The cop in the squad car got out to check on us as we climbed out of Tim’s car.

  “Hey.” Tim shoved his hands in his pocket and nodded at Officer Bright.

  “What are you two doing here this early in the morning?” he asked.

  “I live here. Got off work and now I’m going in and going to bed,” Tim said.

  “I came back for my van. I’m heading into town to start work at the bakery.”

  “Hate to do this, but it’s procedure. I need to check your IDs.”

  Tim rolled his eyes and I blew out a long breath as I dug through my purse. The officer took our IDs and looked at them with his flashlight. Then he looked at us carefully. “Thanks.”

  Tim put his ID back in his wallet and tucked it in his pocket. I took mine and put it back into my purse.

  “If you wait five minutes, my replacement will be here,” the officer said. “I can see you to the bakery before I go home.”

  “You don’t need to—”

  “Yes, he does,” Tim cut me off. “Thanks.” He shook the officer’s hand. “I’m going in.” He planted a kiss on my cheek and went to the front door to let himself in.

  “Don’t worry about cleaning up,” I hollered after him. “I’m going to call a service.”

  Tim laughed. “As if I’d do housework.” He disappeared into the house and I immediately started to worry.

  “It’s safe to go in, right?” I asked the officer.

  “No one’s come or gone since I got here.”

  Not that that was much comfort, I thought, but kept it to myself. I climbed into my van and started it up. The officer was right. Within five minutes, another cop car came to replace him. Officer Bright drove behind me to work and checked the building. At least for now, all was well.

  • • •

  I was stocking my display case with fresh pastries when I saw him walk by the front windows. My first thought was, that’s weird. I checked the time. It was around 5:30 A.M. The same time George had been murdered. Why was Ralph Kennedy walking down Main Street at this time of the morning? I went to the front door and stuck my head out to see where he was going. The streetlights showed he had a bank deposit bag in his hand. The bag looked full and heavy in the lamplight. I checked behind me and the rest of the street was empty. Cold wind blew between the buildings, causing leaves to rise up in little whorls.

  Ralph crossed the street and turned into the bank’s driveway and out of sight. I looked at the
time again and caught a chill. Was it Ralph who had killed George? Why? He seemed like such a well-mannered man. Not the kind to harbor enough rage to bludgeon not one but two men and rip my bedroom to pieces.

  I closed and locked the front door and dialed Chief Blaylock’s number. I got his answering service. “Chief Blaylock, this is Toni Holmes. When you get a chance could you come down to the bakery? I need to talk to you. Coffee’s on the house. Thanks.”

  I hit End on my cell phone and leaned against my display case. Ever since I had the letter pushed under the back door, I’d been careful to open the blinds when I got to the bakery in the morning. That way, no one could vandalize the front without my seeing them. This was the first time I’d seen Ralph Kennedy walk by. Craig had told me the night George was killed both he and Ralph worked late, or in this case, early in the pharmacy. Maybe this was a regular thing. Maybe Ralph saw who had killed George. If so, why wasn’t he coming forward?

  I made a fresh pot of coffee and waited for Ralph to pass by on his way back to the pharmacy. It might be worth my while to invite the man in and find out what he knew about George’s death.

  Twenty minutes later, I’d done all the work in front I could do, and Ralph still hadn’t returned. My cell phone rang. One look at the number and I picked up. “Hey, Tasha.”

  “Where are you?” She sounded mad. “I woke up and you weren’t here. You scared the devil out of me.”

  “I called Tim and he brought me in to work. I told you I was going to go, remember?”

  “I didn’t think you’d leave in the middle of the night.”

  “I start work at 4 A.M. I’m not going to change my routine because some insane man hacked at my bed and tossed flour around my kitchen. Besides, Tim is up at that time of night. You were sleeping soundly so I called him. He made sure I was safe.”

  “You should have woken me up. I would have taken you, or at the very least, made you coffee.”

  “I’m fine, really.” Finally Ralph Kennedy walked by the shop. “Listen, I’ve got to go.”

  “Why? It’s ten after six.”

  “Ralph Kennedy walked by. I’m going to invite him in for coffee.” I made my way to the front door and unlocked it.

  “Wait, by yourself? Do you think that’s wise?”

  “It’s only Ralph,” I said. “I’ve offered him coffee before. Now is as good a time as any to get to know him a bit.” I hung up and pushed the door open and stepped out but Ralph was nowhere to be seen. That man could move fast.

  “Hey, you’re opening early.”

  Startled, I jumped and glanced to my left. Sam stepped out of his truck and onto the sidewalk. “What are you doing here?” The question came out involuntarily.

  “Mrs. Becher hired me to install shelves in the quilt shop.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I think she likes having me around.”

  “At six-fifteen in the morning?” I hugged myself, as the wind was cold. A crow cawed as it flew over the town.

  Sam looked warm in his shearling jacket. “No, the job starts at seven. But I thought I might be able to persuade you to open early and let me have breakfast with you.”

  “Are you checking up on me, too? Or do you always have jobs that start at seven A.M.?”

  “No, I don’t always have seven A.M. jobs; sometimes I go to work even earlier. A contractor’s work is never done.” He opened the door, took my elbow, and escorted me inside.

  The bakery smelled of coffee, cinnamon, and pumpkin. The chocolate chip pumpkin muffins had been a huge hit. I had an order for three dozen to be delivered to the senior center at ten A.M. Sam smelled of aftershave and soap. He took off his Stetson and ran a hand through his hair. My cell phone buzzed in my hand. His gaze twinkled at me. “Are you going to get that?”

  I looked down to see if it was Tasha calling me back. “No.” I stuffed the phone in my apron pocket.

  “Then how about some coffee?”

  “Okay.” I took down two giant cups with matching saucers and handed him one set. “The coffee carafes are full, take your pick.” I waved to the coffee bar.

  He took me up on my offer, pouring himself a cup and adding a generous amount of cream and sugar.

  “You know, come to think of it, your truck always seemed familiar to me,” I said as I watched him. “I guess now I know why.”

  “Why?” He stirred his coffee.

  “I’ve seen you on the road on my way to work.”

  “I’m sure you have.” He took a seat. “There aren’t a lot of people on the road at five A.M.”

  “Wait—” I narrowed my eyes. “Where were you the morning George was killed?”

  He laughed. “So, what, I’m a suspect now? Really?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Fine.” He tipped his head. “If it makes you feel any better, I was in Garden City looking at a couple head of cattle to buy.” He reached into his coat. “I’ve got the rancher’s number on my phone. You can call and verify. I bet he’s up this early.”

  “No, I believe you.” The heat of a blush rushed over my cheeks. It was hard not to feel stupid accusing a friend of murder. But really, anyone could be the killer, right? My phone rang in my pocket. I ignored it.

  “Okay, I answered your question. Now, tell me, how come you aren’t answering your phone?”

  “It’s Tasha. I hung up on her a few minutes ago and now I’m going to have to apologize.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “I saw Ralph Kennedy walk by around five-thirty.” I pushed the carafe top, dispensed Sumatra into my mug, added a generous splash of half-and-half, and again tried not to blush at my assumption that Sam could be a killer. “He had a heavy bank bag in his hand. I watched him all the way until he turned into the bank drive.”

  Sam took a sip of his coffee, his expression thoughtful. “And this made you hang up on Tasha because . . . ?”

  “I thought I saw him walk back by. I wanted to ask him in for coffee.” I shrugged as if it were nothing. I wasn’t about to admit that I had begun to suspect everyone of being a killer. “When I met him, he’d said he’d wished he’d had time to come over and see for himself how good the pastries were.”

  Sam sprawled out at the table and studied me for a moment. “So you’ve decided you want to date Ralph?”

  “What?” I didn’t know what to say. I scrunched up my eyebrows. “No, don’t be silly.” My cell phone in my pocket rang for the third time. I set my cup down on the table next to Sam’s and picked up my phone. “Hey, Tasha.”

  “I can’t believe you hung up on me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not, or you would have picked right back up. I’ve half a mind to come down there. Tell me you did not let Ralph Kennedy into the shop with you this morning.”

  I shook my head at how much she sounded like a mom. “Um . . . no, not Ralph.”

  “Don’t tell me you let in a perfect stranger.”

  “I wouldn’t say perfect . . .”

  “Marie Antoinette Holmes! Do I have to call your family?”

  “No, just kidding. By the time I got the door open, Ralph was gone. Sam pulled up. He’s here now checking on me and having coffee.”

  “And a donut,” Sam called.

  “And a donut,” I added and made a face. I went to the display cabinet and pulled out a plate and placed two gluten-free spice cake donuts with maple frosting on the plate. “So you see, I’m perfectly fine.”

  “You are not fine.” Tasha all but snorted afterwards. “You are off your rocker. After seeing your bedroom last night, anyone with any sense would have packed up and gone on a long vacation.”

  “I couldn’t pack. All my clothes were shredded, remember?” I set the plate down in front of Sam and took the chair across from him. His open coat revealed a denim work shirt and jeans. “Would you have closed the inn if this had happened to you?”

  “We’re not talking about me.” She sounded angry. “We’re talking about you, and I was humoring you when I s
aid you could borrow my clothes. I didn’t think they would fit.”

  I glanced down at the too-tight white tee shirt and flood short pants. “They fit fine.”

  Sam’s gaze wandered over me and he grinned and raised a thumbs-up. I could feel the heat of embarrassment rush up my neck for the second time. I narrowed my eyes at him. He smiled wider and popped the rest of the donut in his mouth.

  “Listen, Tasha, if you’re calling to scold me, then I’m going to hang up.”

  “No, wait!”

  “What?” I played with the handle of my coffee cup.

  “I wanted to ask you to go shopping with me after work tonight. Kip’s spending the night at my mom’s. I can meet you at six P.M. and we can make a quick trip into Wichita.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, come on. You need a new wardrobe. I’ll buy dinner. It’ll be fun.”

  I ran a hand over my face. “All right.”

  “Yippee!” I could hear her clapping. “I can’t wait. I found this new shop I’ve been dying to take you.”

  “I’m not letting you dress me,” I warned. Sam’s eyebrows shot up at those words. I sent him a dirty look and turned away from him.

  “I promise. I’ll only show you the clothes I like. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I said. “Give Kip a hug for me.” I hit the End button and put my phone in my apron pocket. My coffee had cooled and Sam had finished off his breakfast.

  “Back to my original question,” Sam said.

  “What’s that?” I sipped coffee and enjoyed its bitter-smooth taste on my tongue.

  “Are you dating Ralph Kennedy?”

  He caught me with a mouthful of coffee. It wasn’t my fault if I spit it all across the table and into his face. “What?”

  Sam grabbed a napkin and wiped his face. “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “A . . . no.” I took more napkins out of the dispenser and cleaned up the table and reached over to dab at his jacket. “Where would you get that stupid idea, anyway?”

  “You said you ran out into the street to wave Ralph down and invite him in for coffee. Sounds like a date to me.” Sam shrugged and kept his face perfectly even.