by Ami Diane
If Evelyn had been breaking in for food, then why not break in to the greenhouses again? With Erik gone, they would certainly be easier to get into without having to pick the diner’s lock.
Her gaze swept the room, the beam from her light swathing a path. No, the woman had been searching for something. Money?
Ella checked the cash drawer, but it was still locked. Lighting the surface, she saw that it hadn’t been tampered with either.
She let out a frustrated sigh, turning and reliving the past few days. Wink said that when she’d first come in the day after the pie bake, Evelyn had been in this room… behind the lunch counter.
Ella stepped deeper behind the counter, pointing her light every which way. Instead of fleeing, Evelyn had hit Wink over the head and remained until Ella came in—for how long that was, she couldn’t be certain.
When Ella had come into the room, she, too, had found Evelyn behind the counter. And again this morning.
Her skin prickled with excitement, knowing she was on to something. The light from her phone fell onto the tin sign on the wall, and she froze.
It had fallen when she’d stepped in to retrieve Chapman’s present. At the time, she thought it random, but what if it had fallen because it had been precariously replaced?
Pulling down the sign, Ella stood on tiptoes to peer into the gaping maw of sheetrock—or whatever sheetrock adjacent material Evelyn’s husband had used.
Ella gasped. Evelyn’s husband had built this very wall. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
The stool scraped over the floor as she dragged it from the closet. Leaning against the soda fountain for support, she stuck her light into the hole and part of her head, making sure to hold her breath due to certain asbestos.
Slowly, she swept the beam up and down. Most of the interior lay empty, with very little by way of insulation, which she figured she should tell Wink about.
Then, the light caught on something. A brown bag, perhaps. After another minute of looking, she discovered four more bags.
Her breath quickened.
She leaned away from the hole and breathed in air that still smelled of smoke from Flo’s stun grenade but was fresher than the musty scent inside the wall.
She scanned the room, searching for a means to get the bags out. In the end, she settled for using the handles of a broom and mop, pinching them together like chopsticks, while holding the light in her mouth.
It took several attempts and muffled curses, but she managed to retrieve a single bag. It fell to the counter with a heavy thunk, and loose clumps of insulation scattered.
She waved away the dust, coughing, and pried it open.
“Cha-ching,” she whispered.
The bag was filled with bundles of currency straps. Stacks of ones. Separate straps of sequential bills, all still wrapped together.
By her estimation, she held ten thousand smackers in her hands. After climbing back up the stool, she dragged out the other four matching bags.
Sweeping the bags into an unused burlap sack, she hefted her score onto her shoulder like Santa and his bag, grabbed her phone, and dashed back to the inn with a spring in her step.
Ella kicked in the kitchen door, singing, “I know why Evelyn broke into Grandma’s Kitchen.” She caught Sarah’s face and bit down on some of the excitement bubbling up.
Only Wink turned her way, the rest too busy scuttling about, making bacon and eggs. Jimmy and Will were out on the terrace, shivering together in the confined space of half-cleared snow. They fiddled with a propane tank, the hose snaking through the cracked door and leading to the stove.
“Is that safe?” Ella asked, momentarily distracted. She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.”
Sweeping forward, she dumped the bags’ contents onto the island.
“You mind?” Flo growled. “I’m trying to—” For the first time since Ella had met her, the woman became speechless.
“I know, right?”
The woman’s veiny hands snatched at the cash. Rose glanced up from the stove, did a double take, and abandoned the sausages in the pan.
“What on earth?! Where did you get all that?”
“From the diner. Be right back.” Ella dashed out of the room, took the stairs two at a time, and darted into her room. She ripped open the drawer on the bedside table, grabbed the binder of newspaper clippings, then sprinted back to the kitchen. She could hear a commotion coming from the room before she swept back in.
Will and Jimmy had come in, and everyone was gathered around the pile of money, raking their hands over the stacks, counting and recounting.
“There’s gotta be over $50,000 here,” Flo said, stuffing some of it in her bra before Wink batted her hand away and forced her to put the rest back.
Ella found the page she was looking for and rotated the book around, jabbing a finger at the article.
“Tool Belt Bandits,” she said, gasping for air from her dash up and down the stairs.
Pacing, she waited until they were mostly through the article. “Suppose, the bandits came through Keystone? The town flashed, and they became trapped here. Flush with cash but no way to spend it.”
“But how did they get it into the wall?” Wink asked.
“How do you think?” Ella asked. “Who built the wall? Who knew construction? Tool Belt Bandits.”
Rose gasped. “Not Paul Hanks.”
“Yep. Think about it. Evelyn had forgotten that her husband built the addition onto the diner. Remember, Wink? The break-in happened the day after you reminded her.”
Wink nodded her pink head.
“Also,” Ella continued, “both you and I found her near Flo’s hole in the wall.” She glanced sideways at Sarah, wondering if the girl should be in the room for this.
The pre-teen’s lips quivered. “My parents were bank robbers?”
“Possibly.”
Her eyes glistened. She blinked several times. “Does that mean I get to keep the money?”
Flo leaned over it protectively. “Let’s not get carried away, shall we?”
“Actually,” Will said, clearing his throat, “that’s for Chapman to decide.”
Ella nodded. “He should be back any minute to collect firewood for the station.”
The scent of burning sausage and bacon pulled Rose and Wink away from the mountain of cash.
“I thought we were having pancakes, too?” Ella said.
“You volunteering to make them?” Flo asked, part of her hair drooping into her eyes.
“We’re going in courses,” Rose said from the stove. “Wink and I were just about to whip up the first batch.”
Carrying two plates piled high with breakfast meat, Wink set them on the table, and the vultures descended.
Ella volunteered to help stir and pour the pancake batter once Rose had made it. In the meantime, with nothing else to do, she fanned through a stack of hundreds, relishing the smell, while noshing on a crispy strip of bacon.
At that moment, the door swung in, and Chapman strolled in.
“Thought I’d find everyone here—” He stopped short when he caught sight of Ella and Flo creating a house out of the money stacks.
“Oh, hey,” Ella said. “We’re just about to eat breakfast.” She pointed to the table. “Bacon?”
He looked from the house of cash to the bacon then back to Ella, seeming to struggle for words.
Eventually, he grabbed a sausage link. “Someone wanna tell me what I missed.”
“We’re rich, that’s what.” Flo took the roof off the house and fanned herself with it, causing Sarah to frown from her perch on the stool.
“$50,000 is hardly rich,” Ella said. The room stilled, and all eyes turned to her. “Right. Inflation. Well, where I’m from, this is, like, a couple years of college. Community college. Not even room and board. Maybe some textbooks.”
Wink cleared her throat, handing Ella a bowl of pancake batter with a whisk in it. “Anyway, Ella found this in the wall at Grandma’s Kitchen.” She spun the
binder around so Chapman could read the article.
Between bouts of stirring and pouring batter onto a skillet, Ella filled in the finer details, adding her own hypotheses while trying to remain tactful with Sarah in the room.
Chapman began stacking the money then shoving it back into the dusty paper bags.
“Well, this’ll go to the office with me until we can figure out what to do with it. I’ll want to check out this story first. See if I can’t get Mrs. Hanks to confess.”
“I think it should go to Sarah,” Ella said, putting a powdery hand on the girl’s shoulder and leaving a print behind.
“I’ll keep your opinion in mind,” Chapman said, his voice rich with sarcasm. “‘Cause I value your thoughts so highly—”
“Okay, I get the point.”
‘’—that I think them above the law.”
“Bit overdramatic.” She snapped her fingers. “Speaking of, before you go, I have a present for you. I’d forgotten it in the diner which was why I went over this morning the first time. Risked my life for it, really. You’re welcome.”
She retrieved Chapman’s present from where she’d set it on the front desk and swept back into the kitchen. His eyebrows rose as she handed it off. He shifted his lean frame on the barstool, looking from her to the present.
“It’s nothing much, but I just wanted to make sure you had something.”
His large hands tore at the paper, and a mug rolled out into his calloused palm. She had painted it herself and baked it in the oven at the diner, sealing in the color. Heads leaned in, trying to read what it said.
“Who’s Elizabeth Caroline Chapman?” Flo asked with as much sensitivity as a politician. After a kick from Ella, a moment later, her mouth formed an “O.”
Chapman didn’t answer, his eyes glued to the mug. His face had always been a mask, carved in stone, difficult to read.
Ella worried her lip. Was it too… personal? Her pulse sped up, and she tumbled over an apology in her head.
His gaze swept up, his eyes glistening, as he whispered, “Thank you.”
Relief flooded her, and she relaxed into a smile. It had been a gamble putting his daughter’s name on the cup. It would be a constant reminder of the family torn from him when he became stranded in Keystone, and she hadn’t been sure if he wanted that reminder. For some, the wound was always too fresh. For others, they wanted to keep the memory of their loved ones alive. In the end, she supposed a bittersweet mixture of the two was where he’d settled.
He thanked her again and stood, collecting the mug and the bags of money. Flo’s face drooped as much as her hair. He threw out a farewell. As he strolled out of the kitchen, Flo waved.
“You’re saying bye to the money, aren’t you?” Ella asked.
“‘Course I am. It ain’t for that badge.”
“Chapman’s a good man.” Wink plopped several more strips of bacon on the stove. “Maybe if you had higher standards, you’d see that.”
“Eesh.” The word slipped out of Ella’s mouth before she could stop herself when she pictured Chapman and Flo as an item.
The old woman glared at her. Casually, Ella picked up the bowl of batter. “Eesh, I was just thinking about how many calories are in this.” Behind Flo’s back, Will grinned.
Soon, the normal hustle and bustle filled the kitchen, with the spatter and pop of more bacon, the noise of conversation, and too many cooks in the kitchen, making it hard to maneuver.
Pouring batter, Ella listened to the din, tuning in to Edwin and Sarah’s conversation at the island counter. He’d been asking her about school. Ella suspected he was trying to take the girl’s mind off the fact that her mother had just been arrested for murder and the discovery of her parents’ secret past as bank robbers.
An unformed thought niggled at the back of Ella’s brain like a huge question mark. Evelyn had readily admitted, more or less, to stealing and even killing Erik, yet had denied destroying the pies. Why lie about such a small thing?
If she was, in fact, telling the truth, then who had demolished them? And for what purpose?
Her shoe squeaked over the linoleum floor, the sound tugging at that part of her brain again. The footprints in the flour. They were a men’s size thirteen. Unless Evelyn had been lying about being the vandal, worn men’s shoes, and had sprinted in said shoes several sizes too big, then the vandal was still out there.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled at the thought. She shoved the shadows away, so she could focus on breakfast and enjoy the holiday.
After stacking the first, mostly golden, pancakes on the table and a smaller one on the island counter, she told Wink that they were getting low on the batter.
“I’ll whip up some more.” Wink dragged the sack of flour across the counter.
Ella, who’d been handing Edwin and Sarah utensils, caught the way the old boarder’s eyes left the buttery pancakes, left his teen conversationalist, and followed the flour. He stared hungrily at it.
“Need help Wink?” he offered.
The diner owner turned, her eyebrows near her hairline. “You? Offering to help cook? Didn’t think I’d ever see the day. I got it, thanks, Ed.”
When he caught Ella watching him, Edwin turned back to Sarah, a sheepish grin on his face.
Ella returned to the stove, mixing and pouring, all the while, the gears in her mind whirring. The flour was the key.
CHAPTER 25
AFTER THE FOOD had been cleared away, it was decided that the party needed to move back to the warmest room in the mansion. As the guests filed out of the kitchen after placing their dirty dishes in the sink, Edwin lingered near the doorway.
Rose’s blonde curls bounced around her shoulders as she moved towards the sink to attack the dishes.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Ella said, stepping into her path. “I got them.”
“I was just going to wash them in warm water from the stove.”
“Will turned off the propane.” Ella shooed the innkeeper out of the room, squeezing past a hovering Edwin. “I’ll rinse them in cold water so it’ll be easier to wash once we have hot water again.”
After Rose parted, Edwin asked Ella, “Aren’t you going to play games?”
“In a minute.” Turning to the sink, she could feel his eyes boring into her back. “Did you need something?”
“Just thought I’d offer my help.” He edged around the island and into view.
The mounting suspicion in her gut grew from a murmur to a roar. He’d never helped with the dishes in the past several weeks she’d lived there. His fingers found a spot on his chin and scratched it, waiting for her response.
“Thanks, but I’m fine.”
“Sure? It’s no trouble.” He began to roll up his sleeves. Before he could shuffle forward, she made like she was grabbing more dirty dishes, being sure to bump the partially filled flour sifter from the top of the counter. It fell to the floor with a clatter and cloud of flour.
“Oops.” She bent and scooped up the sifter, really sprinkling the powder about. “I’ll mop that up later.”
As he moved to join her behind the sink, his shoe stepped into the white substance.
She turned the faucet on, letting the cold water hit a patch of syrup. “Really, Edwin. I got this. Go join the others. I’ll be right in.” Her tone came out more forced than she’d intended, but he got the hint.
Slowly nodding, he shot a parting glance at the flour sack before shuffling out of the kitchen. She waited a minute to be sure he wasn’t going to pop back in, then she cracked open the door, water dripping from her hands, and peeked into the dark hallway.
Satisfied, she wiped her hands down her pants, rushing back to the counter. Stooping, she pulled out her phone and shone it on the flour. Her heart sank to the floor as she stared at a shoe print that matched the others exactly.
Just to be certain, she rolled through the images on her phone and pulled up one, holding it side-by-side with the real-life image.
“
Why, Edwin?” she whispered.
But she knew why. Well, she had a suspicion, anyway.
Her hands tugged open the burlap sack, tipping the mouth toward the window. Squinting, she rolled the bag around. She debated on using her clean hands or the sifter. The sifter would take longer, but would also not give Rose a coronary if she were to ever ask.
She plunged the cup inside, shaking until the powder sifted through the grate at the bottom. Again and again, she repeated the movement, trying to form a search grid in the burlap sack.
She lost count, but somewhere between her tenth and fiftieth try, as the last of the powder sprinkled into the bag like falling snow, something metallic tinkled over the grate.
Holding her breath, she reached in and pulled out the object, letting it roll around on her palm. Edwin’s gold wedding band glinted in the late morning light, covered in patches of flour.
Ella blinked at the object in her hand, reflecting the gray sky outside. Using the sweater Wink had knit for her, she buffed the band until it shone. Her mouth turned down, fitting the puzzle pieces together.
He must’ve lost it the day of the pie bake. Why not just ask everyone to help him find it? He’d destroyed two kitchens and several pies meant for charity, all to find his ring.
Shaking her head, she slipped it into her pocket, considering her next move.
In the parlor, Edwin sat in the corner furthest from the fireplace in one of the wingback chairs, his face partially obscured by shadows.
She stood in the middle of the room, watching, letting the noise wash over her. When she didn’t move, the din died and all eyes turned expectantly to her.
“El?” Will said, holding a deck of cards in his hands. “You alright?”
“You look flushed,” Rose said. “Sit down.”
Ella shook her head. Her hand plunged it into her pocket and pulled out the wedding band. She held it in the air like she was Gollum in Lord of the Rings.
“Were you looking for this?” She pierced Edwin with her gaze.
He sprung out of the chair with an agility that belied his age and closed the distance to the object in three steps.
