The Deadly Jellybean Affair

by Carrie Marsh

  “Honey, I’m fine. I just wasn’t feeling all that great. I took an extra dose of Nyquil and it knocked me out. I overslept. Simple as that.” She rubbed her son’s shoulder as he approached her. Alabaster made it clear he was not in any hurry to let go. “Alabaster, let Andrew have his arms back.” Mary rubbed the cat’s head.

  No. He’s here and he’s mine. I’m not letting go.

  “He’s okay, Mom.” Andrew nuzzled the cat with his own stubbly cheek “I miss this big, fuzzy lump.”

  See? I told you. Alabaster looked at Andrew adoringly. You’re my Andrew and I love you.

  “Are you in a big hurry?” Mary looked at her son. “Why don’t you stay and have a cup of coffee? Alabaster isn’t going to let you go any time soon. It’ll just take me a second to get dressed.”

  “What do you think, Ally?” Andrew looked down at the cat that moved his paw from Andrew’s chest to his cheek. “Should I stay and have some coffee?

  Yes. Stay.

  “I’ll take that purring as a yes,” Andrew joked as his mom disappeared down the hallway toward her room.

  “How is the Summer Moran case coming?” Mary yelled.

  “That thing?” Andrew scoffed. “Well, it’s sort of at a standstill.”

  Mary came back into the kitchen, dressed in a black skirt and a red blouse with huge gold and red organically shaped beads around her neck.

  “A stand still? Why?” She pulled down two coffee mugs and filled each cup to the top. Sliding one over to her son, she sat across from him at the counter. The window looked out onto the yard and the grass was still bright green and a wonderful contrast to the golden and orange leaves on the trees. “Did Bruce McGovern get away?”

  “Ha!” Andrew laughed. “I wish that was it. At least with that, I’d have a direction to follow. Nope. Bruce is in town. He’s at St. Joseph’s Hospital in an induced coma after being jumped.”

  “What?” Mary coughed. “What happened?”

  Andrew took a sip of his coffee with one hand, still holding Alabaster like a baby in the other.

  A call had come into the station two days ago that there was a kerfuffle outside the Little Dog Lounge. That was nothing new. Something suspicious would be if the cops didn’t get a call about an altercation on that corner.

  But what set this apart was that the caller identified a couple of men wearing Outlaw vests had ganged up on a man wearing plain clothes.

  “I’ll let you have one guess who was in plain clothes.” Andrew looked at his mother and took a sip of coffee.

  When the squad car got there, the fight was over and Bruce McGovern was laying on the sidewalk. The entire front of his shirt was covered in blood from a broken nose and a gash over the left eyebrow that made the police think at least one of his assailants was wearing a ring. Not uncommon with bikers precisely for this reason.

  His eyes were purple and swollen shut and his lips showed signs of having been punched into his own teeth, leaving bloody bite marks. He had a broken arm that also led the police to think he had been in the bar and then forced outside into the alley where he was outnumbered.

  “Was there internal bleeding? Did they rob him, too, or was it just a beating? Let me guess. No witnesses. Was he on anything?” Mary asked in rapid succession.

  “Mom, your interest in these things is abnormal, you know that, right?” Andrew teased before continuing his off the record report.

  The police said he was conscious when they arrived but the ambulance quickly sedated him to get his heart under control. There were traces of marijuana in his system and his alcohol level was well below the legal limit.

  “So, does that mean he was in control of his faculties when he was confronted?” Mary asked, leaning closer to her son. “Like he might have been looking for trouble?”

  “It would suggest that. Of course, if you’re a jerk and your idea of mouthing off to bikers seems normal to you, you wouldn’t need drugs or alcohol.”

  “Do you think that’s what happened?” Mary took another sip of coffee. “Do you think he just picked a fight with guys he knew could beat him to death?”

  “Truthfully, Mom, I think a guilty conscience can get a man to do almost anything.”

  “Heavens,” Mary mumbled, looking with concern at her son. “So, you think he’s the one responsible for Summer’s death.” Mary watched her son’s face. She couldn’t help but think Bruce wasn’t the guy. Not after what she had found in his apartment that indicated he was trying to break out of this place.

  Andrew shrugged.

  “Will he pull through?”

  Andrew shrugged again.

  “Do you think this was some kind of cry for help? An admission of guilt seeking a judge, jury, and a conviction from men he knew would make him suffer?”

  Finally, Andrew flipped Alabaster gently to his shoulder and stroked his back as the cat’s tail waved happily back and forth like a pendulum.

  “Bruce was the last one to see her alive.” Andrew shook his head. “He’s our biggest suspect. Maybe the Outlaws knew something we don’t and wanted to take matters into their own hands. They won’t tell us either way and if that’s the case, then we’ve got another layer of crap to go through.”

  “Can’t you talk to any of them?” Mary asked. “You know, make them an offer they can’t refuse, strong arm them, tighten the screws, so-to-speak.”

  “Mom, I’m going to cancel your cable. You watch way too many cop movies.” Andrew looked squarely at his mother. “You don’t just go up to those people and start asking questions. The only thing they hate more than cops are squealers. So, no one will be doing any talking any time soon. Bruce is who we need to talk to.”

  “If he was at the Little Dog Lounge then he had changed his mind about running. Did he leave and come back?” Mary wrapped her hands around her coffee mug.

  “Looks that way.” Andrew looked at Alabaster affectionately. “He showed up at the one and only place he probably should have avoided. Nothing but trouble comes out of that place.”

  Mary nodded. She didn’t dare tell him where she had been the night before. Plus, she didn’t come up with any better lead than he already had.

  “We do have some surveillance going on at some of the motorcycle club’s more regular hang outs. The problem is the Little Dog Lounge isn’t usually where they hang out. So, we missed our chance on that one. If we don’t get a break soon, we’re going to have to call in FBI and you know how I can’t stand that.”

  “Don’t give up just yet, honey.” Andrew had described dealing with the FBI like trying to get an anthill to work for you. Too many bodies traipsing through everything, stampeding over whatever was in front of them and leaving a mess in their wake. The last time they were called in was over three years ago for a white-collar crime involving a pastor, his mistress, and the embezzlement of over twenty-five thousand dollars in church funds. “Maybe fate will lend a hand.”

  “I sure hope so.” Andrew placed Alabaster on the counter. The cat sat there for a moment, staring at him while he sipped his coffee.

  “Did you say you have surveillance of some of the bars around town?” Mary gulped her coffee, scalding her throat. Those words Andrew uttered just sank in. The last thing she wanted was to have her son see her going into Billy’s Bar during Happy Hour.

  “Yeah, a couple of guys watching and listening around the Full Throttle, Billy’s and that place over on Wolf Road. What is that one? Kerosene. That’s the name.”

  Mary swallowed and looked out the window. Now wasn’t the right time. Maybe she’d mention going to Billy’s later. Maybe. That was if anyone even mentioned it. If there wasn’t any news coming from Billy’s, perhaps she could go her entire life without Andrew knowing she had been there.

  “Well, I better get to work.” Andrew scratched Alabaster behind his ears. “You better call Grace. She was freaking out, afraid something bad had happened.”

  “Gosh!” Mary gasped. “You’re right. I almost forgot about her. Don’t tell
her I said that.” Mary reached for her phone and saw the little light blinking that there were messages. “Oh, I can’t bear to listen to these. In between all the obscenities, I’ll be able to hear the worry in her voice. The poor thing.” She began to dial as Andrew stood from his seat and took one last sip of coffee.

  I’ll be waiting until I see you again, Andrew. Alabaster stood, arched his back, and rubbed against Andrew again, wrapping his tail up and around Andrew’s arm.

  “And you.” Andrew gently took the cat’s head in his massive hands and bent down to kiss him between the ears. “Keep an eye on this lady for me. Between you and me, she’s a little on the crazy side.”

  You are so right. Alabaster let out the cutest, tiniest meow as he looked adoringly up at Mary’s handsome son.

  “Hello, Grace,” Mary said into the phone as she waved goodbye to her son, who let himself out the front door. “No. I just overslept. I’m fine. No… I didn’t… well, I left… I wasn’t… Yes, Grace. I will, Grace. I’ll be at the shop in ten minutes.”

  Mary looked at Alabaster. “That woman is certifiable.” Mary set the phone back down and looked for her purse, which was on the floor next to the garage door where she had left it last night. “I didn’t get that kind of talking to from my own mother when I broke curfew.”

  I love Andrew. Alabaster sighed.

  “I do, too.” Mary petted her cat, swung her purse over her shoulder, and headed to her car parked in the garage. Dealing with her son was one thing. Dealing with an upset Grace Deitz was another altogether. Mary felt like she was being sent to the principal’s office as she drove to Beads and Baubles to open the store two hours late.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CRASH COURSE IN GEMOLOGY

  CRASH COURSE IN GEMOLOGY

  Feeling like she’d hit a brick wall, Mary decided to set her sleuthing aside and concentrate on the store for a few days. She managed to recruit a new crafting instructor, who would be coming in to teach anyone who wanted to learn the art of wire crochet.

  “That class will be like trying to get chimpanzees to do French manicures,” Grace joked while taking a bite of the thick, buttery pound cake slices she’d brought for Mary and herself.

  “So, you’re not coming?” Mary pouted.

  “Oh, no. I’ll be here. I just won’t promise not to cuss.”

  “Whew.” Mary wiped the imaginary sweat from her brow. “I already got a confirmation from Dawn that she and her posse will be coming. She said she’d be more than happy to assist anyone having trouble since she’s been crocheting since she was three.”

  “Well, smell her.”

  “She’s not so bad.” Mary licked the crumbs from her thumb and forefinger. “Remember, she’s younger than us. The ignorance of youth.”

  “Speaking of ignorant youths. I have to get back to the bakery to fire one of my sons.”

  “What?” Mary gasped. “Which one?”

  “Any one. They’re all ungrateful.”

  “Well, did one do something wrong?”

  “I’m sure if I look around I’ll find one of them did something that they should be fired for. Talk to you later.” Grace waved and left the bead store, carrying her empty plate and napkin with her.

  Mary’s day was busy with a constant flow of people. Many she was beginning to recognize when they walked in.

  There was Ruth, who was buying beads to send to her daughter-in-law in Florida, who complained all the bead shops sold out there were seashells and coral.

  Grace’s fashion nemesis Velma Henried stopped in to chit-chat for a moment and then bought some beautiful findings she was going to sew onto a purse she had bought at a flea market.

  Mr. Lester, bless his heart, came in with his teenage daughter, Gillian. As she gushed over all the colors and styles of beads, Mr. Lester just stood back and waited.

  “The things we do for our kids,” Mary teased.

  “Right,” Mr. Lester said as he waited with the patience of Job while Gillian took her time picking out exactly what she wanted.

  Once she was satisfied with her collection, she came to the counter, frantically waving her father over to hurry up and make the purchase.

  “Maybe you’d like to fill out an application and work for me a few days after school,” Mary offered, winking at her father. “Then you could get the employee discount.”

  “I’d love to, Mrs. Tuttle, but with school, track, and my Etsy store plus my blog, I’m stretched,” Gillian apologized.

  “An entrepreneur? So, we know who will be taking care of you in your old age.” Mary looked at Mr. Lester.

  “Right?” He gave Mary a skeptical smirk then put his arm around his daughter as they left.

  Finally, around six o’clock, Mary decided to kick off her shoes for the last hour of work. She kept the doors open a little longer due to having come in late the other day. It proved to be a good move as some artists said getting in during regular work hours was difficult because they were at work those hours.

  Her feet ached. She’d been standing all day. A nice, hot bath would be just the ticket.

  “Well, hello!” came a cheery voice from the door. Mary looked up to see Hillary Hulka standing there, hands thrust into her pockets, grinning.

  “Hi, Hillary,” Mary replied. “What a pleasant surprise. Please, come on in and make yourself at home. Take a look around.”

  “I’ve been meaning to stop in here for weeks. It’s just with everything going on and…” Her voice trailed off. “So, this is where Summer wanted to work? It’s really beautiful. A really beautiful store.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Mary watched Hillary as she strolled around, casually looking at all the display tables.

  “I know there are skeptics out there but it cannot be denied the healing properties of some of these gemstones.” Hillary picked up a small round bead of rutile quartz. “Like this little beauty. All by itself it’s very pretty. But, line it up next to smoky quartz or a rose quartz and you’ve got an amplified dose of healing and calmness headed your way.”

  Hillary set the bead down and continued to walk around. “Or this.” She picked up a long flat bead made of black onyx. “Keeps away the astral boogeymen and bad vibes and scares off negativity. All that in this little stone.”

  “You really know your gemstones, Hillary.” Mary smiled.

  “I told you the other day that I’m not all that crafty. That came off a little snobbish. I’m sorry.”

  “Please.” Mary waved as if she were swatting a fly away from the top of her head. “With everything you and your family have been going through, there is no need for apologies.”

  “That’s kind of you.” Hillary gave Mary one of those tight-lipped smiles like she was forcing it. It was impossible to tell if she was forcing it because she was still sad over the death of her husband’s cousin or if she was forcing it because she really didn’t like Mary.

  “I do know quite a bit about gemstones,” she added. “When Ray decided to start selling jewelry online, I thought it might come in handy. It turned out to be a lot more fascinating than I thought.” Her voice was almost sad.

  “I’ll bet that was a big help,” Mary encouraged.

  “Yeah, well, when Summer started to show an interest that was when Ray really started to think learning more about gemstones was a big deal.”

  Uh-oh. Mary gulped. That didn’t sound too catty, right?

  “She didn’t go to college. She was sort of drifting and when she floated back into Ray’s life, he was determined to help her. He thought getting her in on his jewelry-selling business was a step in the right direction.” Her voice broke off into a bitter laugh like a broken piece of sidewalk separated from the larger section. “He said she looked the part. Gave her a necklace just like mine.” She slipped her thumb underneath the chain around her neck.

  “Didn’t you feel that way, Hillary?”

  Without looking up, Hillary picked up a bright red clown bead and studied it. It was str
iped and polka-dotted and would make a beautiful center stone on a bracelet.

  “Thankfully, I was already in charge of the bank accounts or I’m sure I’d be in a lot more trouble than I…” Catching her words, she cleared her throat.

  “Ray said he and Summer were close. Like brother and sister.” Mary quickly changed the subject. But it appeared she had changed it in the wrong direction. Behind Hillary’s eyes, she saw a shadow fall. Like blinds had been drawn or headlights that had instantly gone off.

  “Brother and sister?” she scoffed. “In some Southern parts of the country, I suppose.” She swayed as if she had suddenly become slightly drunk. “No. I’m exaggerating. They were like two peas in a pod. Growing up together and all that stuff.”

  Mary remained calm on the outside. The conversation had just taken a quick detour, and she was very interested to see where it would go next.

  “There really wasn’t anything wrong with Summer. The few times I did see her, she was pleasant enough. There were just some weird things about her.” Hillary stared at the table, stroking the edge absent-mindedly. “She would whisper secrets in Ray’s ear in front of me. Like they had a code or something.”

  “That’s not uncommon for siblings to do.”

  “Of course, it’s not.” Hillary smiled with an overabundance of confidence, revealing every tooth she could. “But Ray was my husband. He was my husband.”

  That last comment choked off the conversation like dandelion weeds in a flowerbed.

  It was like Hillary had just snapped out of a trance and realized she was in a bead shop. Scooping up a handful of lapis lazuli stones, she dumped them in a little bag and came over to the counter.

  “I’ll take these,” she muttered.

  Mary could feel the anxiety and tension pouring off Hillary like sweat. Quickly, she rang up the beads under a generic number, not daring to ask Hillary to go back and get the right code and cost.

  “That will be eight dollars even,” Mary said, watching the woman’s mouth twitch at the corners as if she were still carrying on the conversation in her head.