So, Levi told me we couldn’t report Fisk to Sheriff Mills without some more concrete evidence of guilt. So what? Levi didn’t know everything. He was just a handyman, right?
If every man and woman in this country was free enough to walk the streets at night, I was free to talk to whomever I chose, wasn’t I? I could talk to Sheriff Mills—just talk to him. I could tell him what I found out about Fisk. That’s all.
As soon as the idea entered my head, I couldn’t get rid of it. Levi would be asleep in his own quarters for the rest of the day. He didn’t have to know what I was doing. Fisk was upstairs in his room. He wouldn’t go back to town again until night. I had the whole day to do what I wanted.
I strolled out to the front desk and checked the ledger. I had no check-ins or check-outs today. The building hummed with quiet contentment. I had time to nip down to town, have a friendly chat with the sheriff, and run back before anybody knew I was gone.
That’s the problem with a great idea. It takes on a momentum of its own. Once you get an idea, it doesn’t go back to sleep until you act on it. I took one more walk around the inn, but nothing disturbed the peaceful silence. If I was going to go, now was the time to do it.
I grabbed my keys and handbag and phone from my apartment and raced across the parking lot to my car. My pulse thundered in my veins. Why did I feel like I was doing something wrong?
I fired up the engine, but I made sure to drive slowly and carefully out of the parking lot. I didn’t want anybody to know what I was doing. I didn’t want Levi or Fisk to glance out their windows and see me leaving.
I hit the Interstate and dropped my foot to the floor. I didn’t stop until I pulled up in front of the police station. I jumped out, but I almost lost my nerve when Deputy Leonard met me at the door.
He jammed his thumbs in his belt in a way that signaled any woman within a hundred miles what a big man he was. “Well, if it isn’t little Miss Sunshine!”
I shouldered past him. “Hello, Rufus. I’m here to see the sheriff.”
He winced. “What’s the matter? Did your car run out of gas again? We’ve been getting more call-outs for broken down cars, now that no one can fuel up at Max’s anymore.”
I didn’t wait to hear anymore. No matter what happened, no matter how many FBI agents came up to Heather’s Forge to investigate Nathaniel Rowe’s marijuana operation and his murder of my aunt, Rufus Leonard would never believe I could keep my car on the road. He would continue to believe I needed his help at every moment of the day, even with my car parked right there in front of the station.
I pushed my way into the office to find Sheriff Mills sitting behind his desk, as usual. His enormous belly touched the desk, and his tired old eyes lifted to regard me. “What can we do for you today, Miss Garrett?”
I sat down in the chair opposite. “I want to talk to you about Max Nash’s death.”
“Ah, yes, tragic piece of work, that.”
“I wanted to ask you. What made you decide he choked on the gum? Was it lodged very deeply in his throat? Did you get Dr. Brock to perform an autopsy? There are ways of proving someone died of suffocation, you know.”
Sheriff Mills shook his head and wagged his finger in my direction. “Now, now, little lady. Just because you got lucky solving your aunt’s murder, doesn’t mean everybody else who dies was murdered, too.”
I sat up straight in my chair. “I didn’t say Max was murdered. I asked if you performed an autopsy or if you saw any signs of choking at the scene. From what I understand, when someone chokes on something, the obstruction gets lodged so far down their neck you can’t see it at all. I took a first aid course once, and when we learned the Heimlich Maneuver, we had to learn to perform a finger sweep of the person’s mouth. Our instructor told us we wouldn’t see the obstruction or be able to reach it until it became dislodged.”
Sheriff Mills sighed. “Little darling, you’re at it again. Just because you learned something in a first aid course doesn’t make it fact.”
“Is that so? If it isn’t fact, they shouldn’t be teaching it as part of a nationwide and even international choking protocol, should they? If you found the gum in Max’s mouth, that must mean it wasn’t lodged far enough down his throat to kill him. Isn’t that true?”
Rufus spoke up from the doorway where he eavesdropped on our conversation. “Whether it’s true or not is none of your business. You leave the murder investigations to the professionals.”
I didn’t turn around to answer him. I wouldn’t stoop so low. “It’s not my business. It’s the business of the medical examiner to study the victim’s throat to make sure there really is something lodged there and that the throat is swollen enough to cause choking. I can only assume, since you haven’t said you ordered an autopsy, that none was performed.”
Sheriff Mills blinked at me. Neither he nor his deputy answered. Of course they didn’t order an autopsy performed. That would be police work, and they never did any police work.
“How could you do this, Sheriff?” I cried. “How could you neglect another dead body after what happened to my aunt? When are you going to learn to follow proper procedure?”
“You have nothing to worry about this case,” Sheriff Mills replied. “We’ve got it all under control.”
“Did you know one of the guests from the Barrell Inn has been hunting around town after midnight?” I let the effect of that bomb sink in. “It’s true. Fisk Van Steamburg has been sneaking around the graveyard, the alleys, and the mountains every night since he came to town.”
Sheriff Mills frowned. “Steamburg. Now where have I heard that name before?”
“Max was working on Fisk’s car when he died, and Fisk is the one who found Max’s body.”
He nodded and shuffled some papers around on his desk. “Ah, yes. Now I remember.”
“Don’t you find it odd that Fisk is marauding the streets at night at the same time Max winds up dead?”
Rufus’ voice came from behind me. “It’s not odd when Max was killed during the day.”
I turned all the way around to look at him. “Now that is the most astute thing I have ever heard you say, Rufus. The only problem with it is that no one knows when Max was killed. You wouldn’t know that if you hadn’t conducted a full investigation at the scene. Since you didn’t do that, we’ll never know when Max died. He could have been working late the night before when he was killed.”
“And why do you say this Fisk character killed him?”
“How should I know?” I returned. “Fisk has been hanging around the garage a lot at the end of his nightly wanders. Maybe he went back there and got into an argument with Max about when his car would be ready. He’s been itching to leave town ever since his car broke down. Maybe he wanted Max to hurry up, and Max lost his temper. How should I know why he did it? That’s your job to find out, not mine.”
“You’re right about that, little lady,” Sheriff Mills replied. “It’s my job, not yours, and I say Max’s death was accidental and not anything we need to investigate. That’s all you need to know.”
He sounded so much like Levi I wanted to fire back at him. He was right, so right he made me mad, but I couldn’t go back to the inn empty-handed. “If that’s true, if you really have no reason to investigate Max’s death, why are you still holding onto Fisk’s car? Why don’t you release it so he can leave town?”
Sheriff Mills leaned back in his chair. How that chair stood up under his weight all these years I could never figure out. “Our procedures require us to hold the evidence for a certain amount of time. We couldn’t release the car if we wanted to.”
“If Max’s death was not suspicious,” I countered, “then it’s not evidence, is it?”
He shrugged, but I could see it was useless to even talk to him about it. I made myself scarce and headed out to my car, but this trip left a bad taste in my mouth. I cast one last look around the town for any clue I could grasp with both hands, but I didn’t see anything but the same o
ld buildings. The gas station, the florist shop, the bar….
The bar! I hadn’t checked out the bar yet. I dumped my keys in my pocket and dashed next door to NightHawks. I pushed the door open before I realized this was my first time setting foot inside it.
One long bar covered the whole opposite wall. Stainless steel bar stools lined up in front of it, but no one sat on them at this time of day. Bright halogen lamps hanging overhead gave the place a sadly normal look instead of the dim mysterious blackness of most nighttime bars. Happy 90s music played over the sound system.
A middle-aged man looked up from behind the bar. Fine lines already creased his face, but he stood powerfully built under his crisp button-down shirt. He smiled when I walked in. “What can I do for you? Sorry, it’s not our usual time right now. Hence the music and lights.”
I walked up to the bar opposite him. “That’s okay. I’m not here for a drink. I came to ask you about a stranger in town. I’m Allie Garret from the Barrell Inn, and he’s a guest out there. I was wondering if you’ve seen him hanging around, or if he’s coming in here during your normal hours.”
The man extended his hand. “I’m Roger Powers. I own this bar, along with my wife. I work the bar every night, so if you’re looking for someone, I’m your man. What does he look like?”
I had to smile. “He looks like the Penguin from Batman. He’s short, and he has no neck. He’s got a beak nose and goggle eyes. He sort of waddles when he walks, and he always wears a trench coat. He’s been doing some late nights in town, so I wondered if he came in here at all. If you saw him, you would know exactly who I was talking about.”
He shook his head. “I would definitely remember anybody who looked like that. Haven’t seen him.”
My spirits wilted. “Okay. Thanks anyway.”
I got halfway back to the inn before I remembered to check my gas gauge. I was down to a quarter tank now, and I had no idea how much gas I needed to get to Hunterville. I could be stranded by the side of the road, just like Rufus said I would be. Then what would I do?
I had to get back to the inn, though. I had to make myself presentable in time for Levi to see me at the front desk when he woke up. If he found out I went to see Sheriff Mills, he would flip his lid.
I parked my car, but on the way to the inn, I spotted his curtains pulled. I was in time. He was still asleep. I hurried into the inn like nothing ever happened when Camille charged out of the kitchen. She flapped her arms at me. “We’ve got a major disaster on our hands.”
I swallowed hard. “What is it? Electrical fire? Rats in the kitchen? Failed building inspection? What?”
Camille waved toward the dining room. “None of the guests will eat my special Maine-style oatmeal.”
I stared at her. This did not meet an inn owner’s definition of disaster. “I don’t even know what Maine-style oatmeal is.”
“They all want bacon and eggs for breakfast,” Camille went on. “What am I gonna do?”
“I don’t know. Why not just give them bacon and eggs for breakfast?”
“I tried!” she shrieked. “I made them eggs and that special Canadian bacon you told me to buy. Now half the guests have sent it back to be reheated. They say it’s not crispy enough.”
“What’s wrong with that? Just reheat it until it’s crispy.”
“But it’s not supposed to be crispy!” Camille screeched. “Canadian bacon is supposed to be soft, like ham. These people don’t know anything about cuisine. They want crispy bacon like they’ve eaten all their lives. They don’t want an authentic regional experience.”
I touched her arm. “You’re right, Camille. They don’t. They don’t know nearly as much about food as you do, and they can’t appreciate the finer things in life. They’re uneducated heathens, and that’s the way they’re gonna stay. We’ll just have to accept that and make sure they get the kind of food they want. If they want their Canadian bacon crispy, that’s exactly what they’ll get.”
She blinked at me. “Really?”
“Really. It doesn’t make you any less of a chef to give them what they want. You know better, and that’s what counts. Save the authentic regional experiences for the people who can appreciate them and your talents.”
A smile flashed across her face. “Thanks, Allie. That’s perfect. I’ll do it.”
She hurried off to the kitchen with a spring in her step. I could relax for a little while—at least until Levi woke up.
Chapter 4
I slept late the next morning, and after I ate breakfast in my apartment, I worked on my website until the sun vanished around the other side of the inn. By the time I went outside, it was already ten o’clock and time for my interview with Charlie.
He showed up on the dot. That was another indication he was the right man for the job—that, and his amazing resume. I met him on the porch and shook his hand. “Good to meet you, Charlie. Welcome to the Barrell Inn.”
He shook hands with a firm grip and looked me straight in the eye. He wore his soft brown hair buzzed close to his scalp, and his angular muscled shoulders filled out a comfortable corduroy shirt. No wonder he got along with Levi.
Well, they would be working together around the inn if I hired him, so that was just as well. I showed Charlie all over the grounds, but he only nodded his head and said he’d seen it all the last time he came.
I stopped in front of Glenda’s greenhouse. “This greenhouse was being used by a friend of my late aunt’s, but she hasn’t used it since her nephew got arrested for my aunt’s murder. She removed all her plants, so I guess that means she doesn’t want it anymore. You would have free rein to grow whatever you want in here—providing it’s legal, of course.”
He laughed out loud. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m too much of a plant freak to concentrate on any one long enough to make a profit from it. I could definitely put a greenhouse like that to use. If you want, we could get a kitchen garden going, grow all your produce for the dining room. We could turn it into a real local-food attraction—if you want to, of course.”
I smiled. “That’s a great idea! That’s exactly the kind of thing I need for our marketing campaign.”
He strolled into the greenhouse like he owned it. He swept his arm one way and then the other. “I would turn this corner into tomatoes, and over there, the greens. I’ve got a million ideas. We could even raise eggs. Chickens are good for the garden, and the eggs taste better, too. You ask your cook. She’ll tell you.”
I stared at him in wonder. “That would be wonderful. Do it.”
He spun around to lock his eyes on me. “You mean it?”
I burst into a grin. “I mean it. You got the job. Do everything you just said, and if you need anything—tools, seed, supplies, building materials, anything at all—you just tell me. The salary is $3,000/month plus housing and meals. Did Levi show you the gardener’s cottage down at the bottom of the back lawn? It’s right on the edge of the lake. It’s a beautiful spot.”
He rubbed the back of his head. “I saw it. I never thought I could ever get a job as good as this.”
“Well, you got it. When can you start?”
He cast one last look around the greenhouse. “I can start right away. I just have to move my stuff out from town, but I can do that tomorrow morning when I come out to work.” He arched an eyebrow at me. “Are you sure about this?”
I squeezed his arm. “I’m sure. Levi was right about you. You’re perfect for this job. Start tomorrow morning, and you can take your time moving into the cottage. I’m delighted to have you aboard.”
He grabbed my hand. “Me, too.” He hurried away toward the parking lot.
I watched him out of sight. That was one job off my mind, and I couldn’t ask for a better man working the gardens. I never had to worry about another Nathaniel catastrophe with a guy like that around.
I turned around to go back into the inn when I found Levi standing behind me. He must have heard my whole conversation with Charlie. “Well
?”
“Well, I hired him. He’s great. I can’t wait for him to start.”
Levi nodded. “What did I tell you? Now I better go get some shut-eye if I’m going to pull another night-owl.”
I caught up with him. “Wait a second. What did you find out about Fisk? What did he do?”
“He didn’t do anything, and I didn’t find out anything about him. He just walked around. That’s all. I told you, there’s nothing to find out. Now stop pestering me. I’m tired, and I’ll probably have to show Charlie the ropes tomorrow morning. I’m going home. Don’t bother me unless you see me walking around.”
I let him go, but the minute I saw his curtains pulled, my mind started spinning all over again. If Fisk wasn’t up to anything on his midnight rambles, that must mean someone else was. If Fisk didn’t kill Max, then the real killer was out there somewhere.
What was I thinking? Max wasn’t killed. Was he? The sheriff found bubble gum in Max’s mouth. That proved he didn’t choke. If he choked, the gum would have been wedged so far down in the windpipe, the sheriff would never have known it was there.
So, how did he die? That was the sixty-four-million-dollar question. I kept worrying it like a dog with a bone. I paced around my apartment, but I didn’t think up ways to market Charlie’s local-food idea. That’s what I should have been doing instead of sticking my big toe in somebody else’s business.
Then I had a brainwave. I had to get gas for my car. Of course! That gave me a perfect excuse to leave the inn unattended. I would drive down to Hunterville and fill up. If I happened to see anything untoward in town, why then, I would stop and take a look. What could be more innocent than that? Levi couldn’t possibly object.
I hopped in my car and rumbled down the road, but when I got to town, the first thing I spotted was Marty Tucker, the owner of the DoubleDown Diner, out in front of Max’s Garage with a retractable measuring tape. Quick as a wink, I yanked my car to the curb and got out.
The Barrell, Bats and Bubble Gum Page 3
