A Spoonful of Murder

by Connie Archer

  LUCKY SAT ON a hard wooden bench in the outer waiting room and watched Bradley peck at the typewriter behind the counter. Nate was due back any moment, or so she was told. She was impatient, but there was nothing for it but to wait. Now that she had summoned up her courage, she didn’t want to back down. But she didn’t dare mention to Nate any knowledge of the datebook, the fact she had searched the house on Bear Path Lane or that she knew there was a connection between Tom Reed and Honeywell. She wasn’t supposed to know any of this, and she wasn’t about to let on to Nate that she did. Considering that she had promised several people she would keep her mouth shut, she wasn’t sure what she could reveal. She wasn’t supposed to know Honeywell was pregnant nor that the murdered woman claimed to get her medical treatment for free. Her lips were sewed shut. If she revealed anything at all she was sure Nate would accuse her of interfering in his investigation—not that there was an ongoing investigation that she could see.

  She heard a door slam in the rear of the building, opposite the side where the cells were. Heavy footsteps came down the corridor toward the front desk. She jumped up and approached the counter so Nate could not ignore her presence. He pushed through the swinging counter door and slipped off his jacket, hanging it on a chair by a rear desk. He looked up and spotted Lucky. His expression was not exactly welcoming, but she forged ahead.

  “Hi, Nate.”

  He heaved a sigh, preparing himself for more questions. “What can I do for you, Lucky? Sage isn’t here now.”

  “I know. I heard. It’s something else. Can I talk to you privately?” She noticed that Bradley’s ears went up.

  Silently, Nate held out a hand and indicated his small office. He waited until she entered and then shut the door behind them. He sat heavily in the large chair behind his desk. He still hadn’t said a word.

  Lucky took a deep breath and started in. “Nate, even if you’re not willing to confirm it, I don’t think that Honeywell was killed behind the Spoonful.”

  Nate’s eyelids flickered a tiny bit. Lucky continued, “I think she could have been killed behind the Snowflake Clinic and her body dragged through the Victory Garden to the alleyway behind the Spoonful before the storm started.”

  Nate stared at her for a long minute. Finally, he said, “Do you have any evidence to prove this theory?”

  “Well, sort of.” She glanced at Nate. “I know she only had one earring on when she was found. And I don’t think you’ve found the other one.” She was feeling braver now that she had begun. “I asked the receptionist at the Clinic if they had a lost and found and if anyone there had found an earring. Rosemary said there was nothing in their drawer where they keep lost items, but she’d ask around. The other receptionist said that a patient had found an earring by the rear door and turned it in. She put it in the lost-and-found drawer.”

  “And where is this earring now?”

  “That’s just it. The other receptionist and Rosemary couldn’t find it. It was gone, but the girl swears she put it in the drawer.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how silly this would sound to Nate.

  Nate sat silently staring at her. He blinked his eyes once and said, “So because an earring was found behind the Clinic, you’ve jumped to the conclusion that this was the murder victim’s missing earring.”

  “Nate, I saw the earring on her ear that morning. The description of the earring that was found was very similar.”

  “How was it described?”

  “Long, dangling, perhaps diamonds.”

  “Lucky,” he started patiently, as if speaking to a child, “maybe…just maybe it was her earring. She could have lost it anywhere at any time. She could have several pairs of earrings that are similar. It doesn’t prove a damn thing, and now, of course, it’s disappeared.”

  “Exactly. That’s just it. It hasn’t disappeared. Someone at the Clinic stole it. They didn’t want it found. It’s too much of a coincidence.”

  “It’s rather moot, don’t you think? Since it’s now gone? And, let me guess, you have an idea who might have stolen this earring.”

  Lucky ignored the last sarcastic remark. “Will you at least talk to the other receptionist and show her the one that was on the body and see if she can confirm it?”

  Nate didn’t respond. Finally, he grabbed a pad of paper. “Okay, what’s her name?”

  “It’s Rosemary who told me about it. Melissa is the other receptionist.”

  “What’s her last name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Great. That’s just great. You don’t even know her name. She can’t find the earring she says somebody, I’m sure she can’t remember who, turned in, and now that earring’s disappeared. That’s all just great. As if I don’t have enough to do,” he grumbled.

  “I think you should talk to Dr. Starkfield.”

  Nate looked up at her quickly. “And why is that?”

  “I think he might have been involved with Honeywell.”

  “You think? And do you have anything to prove his supposed involvement with the murder victim?”

  “No.” Lucky had promised not to betray Chance’s confidence, and even if she did, she was sure Nate would dismiss it.

  He raised his voice. “Are you really expecting me to question a respected member of our community on the basis of your wild imaginings? No way in hell! Now, is there anything else you’d like to contribute to my investigation today?”

  Lucky shook her head. “No. I’ll be on my way.”

  “You do that.”

  She rose from the chair and managed not to slam a door on the way out. Bradley sat at the counter, a smarmy look on his face, as though satisfied she had experienced the wrong side of Nate’s disposition for once.

  ELIZABETH’S DESK WAS organized with neatly stacked piles of municipal documents, minutes of town council meetings, and recommendations from the Teachers’ Association and the School Board. She carefully transferred a pile of documents to the side of her desk and gave her full attention to Lucky.

  “I know you’re frustrated, dear, but Nate has a point. If the earring were available, then it could be matched to the victim. It could also mean that she had been at the Clinic earlier, lost the earring, but didn’t realize it at first. It’s not a clear-cut path that points a finger at the Clinic as the location of her murder.”

  “I realize that. It’s just that the more time elapses, the more likely it is that any investigation will grow cold.”

  Elizabeth sighed and leaned back in her chair, gazing at Lucky over the top of her reading glasses.

  “I am so sorry to bother you when you’re busy, but I just had to talk to someone—preferably you.”

  “I always have time for you, dear. Don’t worry about that. I often come in on Saturday. It’s quieter and I can get so much more work done. You’re right to be concerned about Sage. But turn this around and look at it from Nate’s point of view. He had motive…”

  “What motive? She was no threat to him anymore. He had served his time and created a new life.”

  “The prosecution could argue that it was all too much for him, long pent-up rage just exploded. You know how attorneys can go on.” Elizabeth slipped her glasses off and laid them carefully to the side. Her white hair glowed under the desk lamp. “To continue…perhaps he had motivation; if not a motive, he had opportunity; he had no alibi and her body was found conveniently near an area that he was familiar with. And we’re still awaiting the lab results—DNA and all that.”

  “All the more reason to suspect a setup. If I were Sage and I killed Patricia Honeywell, the last place I would leave the body would be at the Dumpster behind the Spoonful. I’d be pointing a finger at myself.”

  “Do we know for sure she wasn’t killed there?”

  “I think that’s what Nate and his technician were digging for, evidence of blood or a struggle or something that would place the crime there, and I can’t get him to talk to me about it, but I’m positive they didn’t f
ind what they were hoping to find. The police have found her car, and I don’t know if there’s evidence of anything in the car. I don’t know anything at all. I’m grasping at straws.”

  “I understand your frustration, but don’t go making mountains out of molehills. For all we know, she was killed by a jealous ski instructor.”

  “What do you mean by that?” A chill ran up Lucky’s spine. She thought of Sophie’s jealousy. Could she be determined enough to kill a potential rival and then clever enough to ask Lucky to help her clear Sage?

  “One of the men from the Lodge. What did you think I meant?”

  “Oh.” Relief flooded through her.

  “What are you thinking of doing now? You have a very stubborn look on your face.” Elizabeth studied her carefully. “I hope you’re not thinking of going anywhere near Jon Starkfield. If one ounce of what you suspect is true, you could be putting yourself in danger.”

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. But if Nate isn’t willing to question him, so be it. There’s nothing stopping me.”

  Lucky hurried down the street, so lost in a jumble of thoughts, she had gone two blocks before she remembered to button her jacket. She shivered and fastened the buttons with chilled fingers. The person she most wanted to talk to was Elias. She hoped he wasn’t still upset that she had questioned him about Jon Starkfield, but that was before she knew about the earring being found at the Clinic. If memory served her, he only worked a half day at the Clinic on Saturdays, and his house was just a block away. She might be able to catch him.

  She reached the large white Victorian on Hampstead and stood staring at the house for a moment. No sooner had she started up the walkway when she heard a car engine start. She retraced her steps and, glancing down the drive that led to the garages, saw that a garage door was open. Elias was on his way out. Bad timing. She had rushed over, anxious to talk to him, but she should have called first.

  Elias’s hand rose up to adjust his rearview mirror. He had spotted her standing on the sidewalk. She was sure he’d think she was obsessing about this murder, but he was the only person she felt she could talk to about her suspicions of Jon Starkfield.

  The silver sedan reversed slowly down the drive, careful to avoid the snowbanks on either side. Lucky froze. A white sticker with blue numbers that read Woodside Medical was visible on his rear bumper. The same sticker that Josh had seen outside Patricia Honeywell’s cabin. It wasn’t Jon Starkfield who was offering free medical care—it was Dr. Elias Scott.

  Chapter 34

  “LUCKY. HEY—WHAT a surprise!” Elias lowered his window and leaned out. “Were you coming to see me?”

  Lucky’s heart was racing. The blood drained from her face. For once, she wasn’t blushing, but she couldn’t get her lips to move.

  “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I…I just came by…” she stammered, unable to form words. The implication that Elias had been one of Honeywell’s lovers overwhelmed her.

  Elias waited patiently, letting his engine run and staring at her with a concerned expression. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Um…yes,” she managed to say. “I just wanted to let you know I can’t make it next weekend. Sorry.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m happy to take a rain check if you’re busy.”

  Lucky turned and started walking away before Elias could ask any more questions.

  “Lucky!” he called after her. “Wait up.”

  She kept walking. She heard Elias’s engine turn off. His car door slammed as he hurried to catch up to her. She felt like bursting into tears. The thought of Elias making love to Patricia Honeywell made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t possibly talk to him and pretend nothing was wrong.

  She turned and held up a hand. “Sorry. I can’t. I’m very late.” As she turned away from Elias, his confused expression tore at her heart. She hurried down the sidewalk, almost breaking into a run in her haste to get away from him.

  She slammed through the door of her apartment building. She didn’t dare go to the Spoonful in the state she was in. She reached the kitchen and sat down heavily in the kitchen chair, the same chair from which she had stared out the window at the Victory Garden just three nights ago. She could barely contain her fear and her anger, not sure which emotion was uppermost. She burst into loud sobs, her chest heaving. What an incredible fool I’ve been, she thought. Suspicious of Jon Starkfield and all the time it must have been Elias. She had blindly taken his word that Honeywell had never been a patient at the Clinic. Perhaps he could have deleted the records at the Clinic himself. Had Elias murdered his lover? She was pregnant and threatened to ruin his reputation in town. Had he murdered her and cold-bloodedly attended the autopsy? She had fantasized about Elias since she was young and now hoped he was actually interested in her. Worse, she couldn’t let him know her suspicions. She might not be safe herself.

  She heard a loud knock on her apartment door. Terrified, she leaped to her feet. Stifling her tears, she crept down the hallway.

  “Lucky!” It was Elias. He had followed her here. “Lucky—talk to me. Please open the door.”

  She shivered in fear. How could she tell him she knew he had been Honeywell’s lover? She had to cover her true feelings. She crept closer to the door. “Elias, please go away. I’m fine.”

  “I’ll go away if you tell me what’s wrong. Please, Lucky, talk to me.”

  Lucky put the chain over the front door and cracked it open. Elias looked concerned and confused. Perhaps he was a consummate actor. He glanced at the chain. “I’m not intending to force my way in, Lucky. I was just worried about you.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any concern. I’ve just been upset about Jack.” It was the only lie she could think of on short notice.

  Elias nodded. “Okay. I understand. Has anything happened to upset you? Has Jack had another episode?”

  Lucky nodded. “I can’t talk about it right now. Please. Please leave me alone.”

  “Would you like me to stop off and see him? I’m just on my way over to Lincoln Falls to see a patient, but it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

  “No—that’s okay. But thank you anyway. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Elias stood for a moment, unsure whether to leave or to try to elicit more information. Lucky shut the door, unwilling to let him get close again. She waited a few minutes and finally heard his footsteps descending to the front door. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Hands shaking, she washed her face in the bathroom sink and put a cold cloth on her swollen eyes—how could she have been so blind? How could she not have been suspicious of Elias’s interest in her? Perhaps he made a career of seducing women—seducing and killing them.

  She had to get to the Spoonful. Jack would be worrying about her. She had to pull it together and pretend that nothing was wrong. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was make Jack worry.

  She opened the apartment door and walked softly to the hallway window that overlooked the street. She peered out in both directions. Elias was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully, he had walked back to his car. She didn’t want to run into him when she was in this state. He would see that she had been crying—as if how she looked mattered at all now. At best she had been falling for one of Honeywell’s lovers, or at worst, a murderer.

  She went back inside her apartment, checked her face in the mirror and slipped her coat on again. Walking quickly to the end of her street, she turned onto Broadway. When she arrived at the Spoonful she was surprised to see two more new customers—winter visitors.

  “Lucky, my girl. Everything all right?” Jack looked closely at her face.

  “I’m fine, Jack.” She gave him a big hug as he stood by the cash register.

  “You don’t look all right.”

  “Just coming down with a cold—that’s all. Nothing to worry about,” Lucky replied. Movement in the kitchen caught her eye. She looked at Jack questioningly. “Who’s back there?�
�

  Jack smiled. “Remy. Turns out he knows how to cook. He’s not his big brother, but he’ll do in the meantime.”

  “What do you know?” Lucky smiled back, deliberately pushing thoughts of Elias out of her head. She would have to talk to someone, but she didn’t know who she could trust. Her heart was breaking at the thought that Elias had been involved with Patricia Honeywell. Her schoolgirl fears seemed ridiculous in light of the fact that his car had been parked at the cabin on Bear Path Lane. The thought of his attending the autopsy on Honeywell was even more revolting.

  Hank and Barry were at their corner table—back to playing Connect Four. “How are the chess lessons going, Jack?” she asked.

  “Getting there. I’ve figured out how all the pieces move. Now I just have to think a few steps ahead, but I’m getting it slowly.”

  The door opened, letting in a blast of cold air. Marjorie and Cecily called out in unison.

  Jack raised a hand in greeting. Lucky did her best to smile. “What can I get you?”

  “Oh, just two teas, please. We’ve already had our breakfast. We’re opening later today. We had to drive over to Lincoln Falls to pick up a few things.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Marjorie’s eyes strayed to the kitchen. She gasped. “Is Sage back?”

  Lucky smiled. “No. I wish. Remy’s helping us out for now. Not that we really need any help, but Jack thought it would be good for him to stop by and have something else to do. He’s pretty upset, as you can imagine.”

  “Oh yes,” Cecily replied. “I can imagine. Just terrible.”

  Lucky brewed the tea in a pot behind the counter then carried it out to them.

  “How is that nice young doctor these days? Is he stopping by this afternoon?” Marjorie looked up quizzically as she took her first sip of tea.

  “Uh, no. Not today.” Lucky turned away, hoping her heart wasn’t on her sleeve.