by Ami Diane
There was a creaking sound as the side door to the garage opened, and a woman came out backward, dragging a large trash bag.
The woman straightened, and Ella recognized the muscular frame and full biceps of Lilly Tanner.
Ella paused and put her hands on her head, pretending to be catching her breath—at least part of it was for show, anyway.
Stan’s widow hadn’t noticed Ella yet. She darted into the garage again, emerging a moment later with another large trash bag. Ella watched her minute or so more before resuming her walk-run.
Everyone coped with the death of a loved one in their own way, she supposed. Apparently, Lilly Tanner’s process for grieving involved cleaning.
CHAPTER 11
ELLA WALKED INTO Grandma’s Kitchen, strutting in her jeans and happy to not be wearing her uniform. On Saturdays, she usually worked a couple of hours, and Wink had relented—after several days of pestering—to letting her forgo the dress on Saturdays.
The moment her foot crossed the threshold into the kitchen, she stopped short and held up her hands to fend off the assault on her nostrils. The room smelled like a lemon explosion. The scent was so strong it made her eyes water.
Her first thought was someone had spilled Pine-Sol all over. Careful to breathe through her mouth, she lowered her hands and took in the disaster that was the kitchen.
Trays and trays filled with hundreds of lemon squares covered nearly every square inch of surface. Citrus carnage overflowed from the sink and trash.
“Uh, Wink?”
“Oh, Ella. I didn’t hear you come in.” Wink’s blue hair fell in front of her face as she pulled out yet another tray of lemon treats from the oven. “I’m trying out a recipe. I can’t quite seem to get it right.”
Ella looked over the sea of yellow. From his perch on the fridge, Chester’s tail twitched, and he tugged at his matador outfit, complete with cape. He seemed just as upset about the mess as she was. “Horatio hasn’t been in yet, has he?”
“Not yet. I told him to come in later.”
“Good, good.” Ella put her hands on her hips, her eyes still taking in the war zone. “Hey, do me a favor? Don’t let him see this until I’m in the other room, okay?”
Wink frowned and looked around in confusion. “How come?”
“No reason.”
Resigned to the oncoming storm and dishes she’d have to do, Ella’s quick fingers snatched a lemon bar. It was still warm as she popped it into her mouth. It melted, the perfect mixture of goo and powdered sugar.
She made several noises before saying, “Wink, these are amazing.”
Wink frowned at her. “But are they better than Flo’s?”
Ella’s jaw stopped mid-chew. “Crap, I forgot. The potluck’s tomorrow.”
She’d planned on preparing for the next one, maybe getting a helmet and elbow pads. Briefly, she toyed with the idea of seeing if Flo had any more pepper spray.
“Anyone ever get seriously injured at one of them?”
“Depends on what you mean by ‘serious’.” Wink’s tongue slipped between her teeth as she ran a lemon over a grater.
“Uh, the kind where they have to see Pauline?”
“Not for a couple months.”
“A couple of months equals about four meetings.”
Wink didn’t respond.
After swiping two more bars, Ella grabbed her apron from its hook. “I’ve never tried Flo’s, but I can’t imagine anything beating these.”
Wink pursed her lips as she measured out sugar. It hadn’t taken long for Ella to learn there was no sense talking to Wink when she was in the zone.
“I need to hurry with this. The wind’s changing, and I want to take advantage.” She glanced up. “I’d invite you to come along, but that didn’t work out so well last time.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It wasn’t so bad up until the part where our feet left the ground. Besides, I’m going to make something for the potluck.”
A new line creased between Wink’s brows. “You’re not going to try to make oatmeal cookies again, are you?”
“Those were Rice Krispies Treats.”
“Oh.” She ran a dishrag over a dirty whisk. “You sure?”
“Yep, pretty sure.”
“Huh. I cracked a tooth on one of them.”
“Well, Stewart didn’t have the cereal, so I had to improvise with actual rice.” What Ella hadn’t done was cook the rice first, something she thought of after Will sampled a bite and winced.
“So, what are you making, then?” Wink asked, and Ella couldn’t help but notice the concern in her voice.
Ella searched through the limited repertoire of recipes she knew she couldn’t screw up. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”
“You could just not bring anything,” Wink suggested enthusiastically.
“No, I’ll think of something.”
The moment Wink turned to her mixer, Ella seized the opportunity to pinch two more lemon squares and disappeared into the diner.
A few minutes later, Wink poked her head through the passthrough, her cheeks flushed. “I need to run to Stewart’s Market for more sugar.”
“Isn’t there a whole bag of it…” Ella’s voice faded. Wink had already ducked out of sight. Horatio waltzed in through the front door, humming a tune she didn’t recognize.
They exchanged greetings while he poured a cup of coffee. The door jingled as two customers walked in. Ella greeted the young couple and placed menus on the marred table in front of them.
While she poured their coffee, Horatio swung in the door.
“Horatio, wait!”
A loud stream of Italian issued from the kitchen. The couple dropped their menus and exchanged nervous glances.
“He’s fine,” Ella assured them. She had to raise her voice over his. “Probably stubbed his toe.” Her Italian wasn’t the best, but from what she gathered he’d taken to calling Wink every obscenity in the dictionary.
The couple shuffled their menus.
“This happens all the time.”
His voice somehow managed to simultaneously raise an octave yet get deeper at the same time.
“Yep, completely normal.”
He’d moved on from general cursing to questioning Wink’s parentage.
“Have I told you today’s special? No?” She told them about the Reuben, going into further detail than was necessary to drown out the stream of yelling still issuing from the kitchen.
After she’d collected their orders and gave them a wan smile, she kicked in the kitchen door.
“Hey, Gordon Ramsay, you mind?”
“What is this?” Horatio shrieked and waved his hands wildly over the lemony thicket.
“Wink’s testing out recipes for the potluck.” She did her part in reducing the clutter by eating another bar.
She indicated the mess with her free hand. “It’s not that bad.”
The timer dinged.
Horatio’s skin turned a dangerous shade of red as he practically tore the oven door off its hinges.
“There’s more in here.”
Ella pulled the top sheet off of the order pad and slipped it under his nose, hoping to distract him. “Two specials.”
He snatched up his apron, mumbling under his breath and set to work. After collecting two plates, Ella squeezed them onto the only bare section of countertop she could find.
Horatio dug into the fridge for the corned beef. “Where is the blue-haired devil, anyway?”
Ella leaned against the island, accidentally toppling a tower of lemon squares over. “She ran over to Stewart’s for something.”
He clicked his tongue. “I wish they would just date or something rather than sneaking around and making up excuses to see each.”
“How’s that?” Ella straightened and stopped re-stacking the treats. Wink and Stewart? Did she not know anything about the woman?
“Didn’t you notice him sitting by her at the town meeting?”
Ella’s fa
ce screwed up at the ceiling as she searched her memory. She’d been so focused on the man sitting on her boss’s right, she’s overlooked who sat on Wink’s left. “Maybe they’re just good friends.”
“And maybe I live in the Coliseum.”
Ella dropped the subject and debated on grabbing another lemon square. There did seem to be too many, but her stomach had begun making abnormal noises.
The indecision only lasted a moment, and she shoved another in her mouth. She decided Wink could experiment all day long if she wanted. Ella had no problem with it. Her waistline might, but she didn’t.
After delivering the couple’s food to them and topping off their coffees with a brew that seemed extra thick, she heard the back door to the kitchen open.
Ella tensed, knowing it was Wink returning from her “errand.” The air felt thick, a breath of tension that lasted a moment before the storm hit. Both Wink’s and Horatio’s voices erupted from behind the closed door.
After sloshing mud over the side of the man’s cup, Ella gave a hollow laugh. “They’re rehearsing for a production of Keystone’s Keys in History. It’s going to be great. You should tune in when it airs.”
Something shattered.
Ella squeezed the bridge of her nose. “You know what? This meal’s on the house. Feel free to leave whenever—”
They both scooted out of the booth and bolted for the door.
“—you want.” Her shoulders sagged as the front door clicked shut.
For the second time that day, she kicked in the kitchen door and caught it as it swung inwards.
“You two realize we have customers, right?” she hissed. “I mean, there’s only two of them, and they just left. But still…” Her eyes fell on a broken plate.
Horatio held up his hands. “All I did was ask her to move her stuff so I can work. I have no space. I can’t work like this.”
“And I called him a feminine wash,” Wink sniffed.
Ella’s frown deepened. “A what?”
“That word you taught me.”
“Douche?”
One of Wink’s skinny shoulders lifted in a half-shrug. “Well, I was close.”
The Italian huffed and yanked off his apron. It flew through the air like a bird and fluttered onto some lemon squares.
“I need some air.” He burst out the back door and slammed it shut.
“And the plate?”
“Chester knocked it over.”
Ella blinked at Wink. “I think you’ve been hanging around Flo too much.”
“Oh, he’ll be fine. I’ll apologize when he comes back. You’ll see. We do this all the time.”
Ella eyed the blue-haired owner. As long as she’d worked there, she’d never seen the two of them argue so badly Horatio walked away.
“Did you get what you needed from the market?”
“Yes. Grabbed another bag of flour.”
“I thought you were going for sugar?”
“Don’t be silly, dear. We have a whole other bag in storage.”
Ella’s mouth opened and closed a few times.
Turning to the mixer, Wink readied a new batch of squares. Ella eyed the growing mountain on the island. “I don’t think we need all of these tomorrow.”
Wink glanced around. “We can give them out to our new visitors, I suppose.”
Ella liked the idea. After digging through two cupboards, she located a container and began stacking them inside.
Her eyes flitted to Wink, and she wanted to ask about Stewart, her curiosity piqued but figured her friend would confide in her when she was ready. Besides, there was something more pressing she wanted to know.
“So… Horatio told me there’s a campaign to save Twin Hills.”
“If that man cooked half as fast as his tongue wagged, there’d never be a wait time here.”
“How come you didn’t tell me about it?”
Wink’s hand paused on the switch for the mixer before dropping to her side, and she faced Ella. Her soft brown eyes held back an emotion Ella couldn’t decipher.
“I’m sorry, dear. I was going to—I wanted to tell everyone. Our plan was to collect signatures right after the meeting, just like Stan. Then, when he turned up dead, well… it just seemed in poor taste. We thought the issue was dead, so to speak.”
“But it isn’t?”
Wink’s hair fell in her face as she shook her head. “We don’t know who, but someone’s still pressuring the council on the matter. That’s what we’ve been meeting about. Now, I’m afraid if I openly resist the matter, people will suspect I had something to do with Stan’s death.”
“But the whole town already knows you live up there. Pretty sure you’re already a suspect.” Ella caught herself. “And I mean that in the best possible way.”
“Yes, but to be actively organizing against Stan’s project, well, that paints me in a different light.” Her gaze lingered pointedly on Ella.
Ella stumbled back, her eyes wide. “Wait, you think I would suspect you had something to do with Stan’s death?” Something deep in her chest twisted, and she felt heat behind her eyes. “Wh-why would you think that about me?”
“Nothing personal, dear. It’s just, I know how curious you are, how you search for answers, and I saw how you suspected Jimmy and Rose of killing Kayline… I just didn’t want to take the chance you’d think the same of me.”
The knot in Ella’s chest tightened like a vice grip wrenching around her heart. “Firstly, you helped me search for clues, and secondly, I was just following the evidence.”
“I know, dear.”
Ella swallowed back a growing lump in her throat. “I know you’d never kill anybody.”
Wink’s eyes shone. “Good. Because I wouldn’t.”
Ella fumbled around, stacking more lemon squares. A cold silence fell between them, pronounced only by the ticking clock on the wall.
Was that what people thought of her? That she was only out to catch murderers and accuse her friends of killing?
She fought the tears building behind her eyes. The pain turned to sadness then to homesickness. She missed her family, her friends, her home.
Maybe she had been too eager, sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, but it had only been to help her friends.
Ella wandered into the diner to bus the table and wipe down surfaces. After the tables were clean, she poured a cup of mud and moped near the register. She ran a cleaning rag over the counter, the years marking their presence in a constellation of nicks and scratches.
Sometimes she pushed people away, had a hard time letting them. But she had decided she wasn’t going to do that here. Keystone was a new beginning.
Wink’s blue head poked through the pass-through, and for a moment, Ella thought she saw a cloud of guilt over her face.
“Would you mind taking a plate of squares over to Mrs. Tanner, please?”
Ella nodded, and Wink disappeared from view. She stared at the empty window, feeling a part of her heart deflating.
After a deep breath, she pushed her shoulders back and dropped the rag into the bleach bucket. It splashed and sopped water over the sides.
She was going to prove how loyal she was, how good of a friend she could be. If Wink was afraid people would think she killed Stan, then Ella would just have to solve his murder. Make that, two murders. Well, one murder and a probable other.
She was going to find out more about the victim and also find out who was on the “Save Twin Hills” committee.
As she gathered lemon squares to take to the recently-made widow, her mind swirled with questions to ask. Whoever killed Stan was still out there, putting everyone in Keystone in danger—including her friends.
CHAPTER 12
ELLA SNEAKED A lemon bar from the plate meant for Mrs. Tanner as she traipsed along the trail. She nodded her head and called out a greeting at a couple of people as she passed the Romani camp. Chapman’s conversation with them had obviously failed to get his point across. She’d have to m
ake a second trip to bring them their container of lemon squares and see why they hadn’t left yet.
The conversation with Wink replayed in Ella’s mind, stuck on an endless loop. Wink’s guarded expression, the lines tight with fear.
Ella sighed, the plate growing heavy in her arms. She couldn’t change the past, but hopefully, she could prove her loyalty to Wink by finding Stan’s killer.
Her steps slowed as she neared the brownstone house and detached garage she’d seen Mrs. Tanner cleaning out.
Like most houses in Keystone, the abode appeared quaint and picturesque, complete with a short picket fence and rhododendrons. But that’s where the similarities ended.
Before, Ella had overlooked the overgrown brown grass and the cracked flower pot on the porch holding a dead plant. She stepped onto the askew welcome mat, craning her neck to see inside the dark front window. It didn’t look like anyone was home.
Balancing the plate of goodies with one hand, she rapped her knuckles on the door. Then, she toed the mat into place so it lined up with the front of the house.
She shifted on her feet and waited. She shifted again and began to hum the theme song for the Brady Bunch.
She was just about to leave when she heard muffled footsteps on the other side. The door cracked open, and a pale face stared back at her.
“What do you want?”
Ella’s mouth pressed into a tight smile, her eyebrows pinching in the middle. She lifted the heavy plate, hoping the small breeze would pick up the lemony scent and carry it to the widow’s nose.
“Wink thought you might want these. I hope you like lemon squares because if you do, there’s plenty more where this came from. Like, a lot. Like, I’m not sure there’s a single lemon left in the greenhouses.”
The crack in the door widened, and Mrs. Tanner’s point-shaped nose poked out. “Is that for the whole neighborhood?”
“You’d think, wouldn’t you?” Testing her luck, she added, “Mind if I come in and set these down. It’s getting a bit heavy. I don’t have your—” Her eyes flitted down to Lilly’s biceps. “I’m not very in shape.” Ella’s arms had actually begun to twitch, increasing the likelihood that the plate was destined to crash to the ground and underscoring the fact that she really needed to start doing pushups.
