CHAPTER ELEVEN: Bite Me!
Sadie made a quick call to Dora. She was curious about the interview with Mayor Phibbs.
“So, how’d it go?”
“It went okay. He shared some details that unfortunately raised a few red flags. I’ll have to check them out before I can clear him from the suspect list.” Dora sounded distracted. “Hey, why don’t we meet at Riverside Park at 7? We can grab a corndog and get some yummy Indian Fry Bread.”
“Sure. That sounds great. We can man the vendor booth while I send Pop over to feed Bosco-Bill and Willow-Cake. I’m sure they’re not happy I’ve been gone all day.” Sadie pressed the brakes and stopped for a red light. “I’m heading over to Bite Me! right now. I’m gonna have a quick chat with Chef La Compost. He isn’t a gentleman, Dora, not at all. And he might have a motive for killing Larry.”
“Really? So now we have Scott Moore, Teddy Golden, Burt Welton, the Mayor, and Chef La Compost on the suspect list?”
“Uh huh, and Mary Hunt and her sister too.”
“Oh Dios mío! That makes seven murder suspects, Sadie. We have a ton of work to do if we’re going to crack this case before you-know-what freezes over.”
“Well, after speaking with Burt Welton, I’m pretty sure you’re going to remove him from the list. He’s a nice guy. We sipped lemonade on his back deck and talked about Otterhounds. He’s almost as charming as Mark Sportly, except he smokes. And, well, it is unfortunate Larry’s body was found in his cooler. But seriously, if I weren’t involved with Mark and Timothy, I’d be finding ways to spend more time with him.” The light changed and Sadie turned right onto Agness Street.
An idea popped into her head. “Hey, girlfriend, when Burt’s no longer a suspect, you should find an excuse to spend some time with him, away from the station mind you.” Dora ignored Sadie’s feeble attempt at matchmaking.
“Did you say, Otterhounds? Does Burt have one? Was his dog at the park last night?”
“No. He has one but a lady was walking the dog I saw. He told me he stayed home last night. However, Mary’s sister has an Otterhound and was in the park for the fireworks, with her dog Bubba. I think it was Sarah and Bubba that Timothy and I saw. Anyway,Burt’s not married. Like I said, he’s an attractive and available bachelor. Hint, hint.”
“Stop it, Sadie. I can’t even think about dating a suspect.”
“I said, after you cleared him from the list.”
The silence on the other end was deafening.
“Okay, never mind. I just thought a double date would be fun.”
Still silence.
“Oi, so Dora, Mary gave Burt his Otterhound two years ago, for his birthday. They broke up but they’re still friends. He does have a heart condition and wears a medical alert charm, but it’s missing. I can’t believe three of our suspects not only wear the charm but have lost it in the past week. I have one more thing to tell you about Burt, but I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll explain later on tonight. I’ve just pulled up to Bite Me!”
Sadie said goodbye to her friend and stepped out of her car and into the nearly empty parking lot. Bite Me! was closed from 4–6 p.m. and it was only 5:45 p.m. However, she was sure somebody would let her in, and she was right. A good-looking waiter passed the entrance and recognized her. Opening the door he gushed, “Ms. Sunshine. Remember me? I’m the kid who adopted Floppers.”
Sadie was always crossing paths with former 3rd grade students. Unfortunately, they often forgot how much appearances changed from childhood to early adulthood. Taking a moment to think, she remembered a sweet boy from one of her third grade classes. He had Asperger’s, a mild form of autism, and had taken a shine to the class pet. At the end of the school year, Sadie held an adoption raffle and Bobby Flint was picked to take home their Lop Eared Rabbit, Floppers.
“Bobby Flint, is that you hiding inside the man standing in front of me, who’s dressed as a waiter?”
“Ha, ha-ha! I guess I do look a bit different from my 3rd grade class photo.” Bobby held out his hand for Sadie to shake. “You probably won’t believe this but Floppers lived for almost fifteen years. Rabbits don’t usually live past ten.”
“Indeed. I guess all the love you gave him extended his years.”
“And probably the carrots. He loved carrots.”
Sadie chatted a bit longer with her former student then asked Bobby to tell Chef La Compost he was needed in the lobby. “If he gives you a hard time, tell him its police business.”
“You’re a policewoman now?”
“No, Bobby. I just volunteer my time and help the police department solve mysteries.” Nodding his head, he gave Sadie a wave and headed down a long hallway.
Ten minutes later, a flustered man wearing a white chef’s hat speed-walked his way down the hallway. “Are you Ms. Sunshine? What do you want? I’ve got coq au vin to prepare for tonight’s menu, not to mention several Clafoutis are in the ovens.”
“Thank you for giving me a few minutes of your time, Chef La Compost.” Sadie could tell this interview was going to be interesting. “As you well know, Larry Phibbs has been murdered. I figured it would be better to question you here, and not even try pulling you away from your kitchen.”
“Indeed! I have no time to putter off to the police station to answer ridiculous questions. Now that Larry’s gone, I’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Not only am I planning the menus and preparing the food, but I’m also training a new sous chef and interviewing possible managers to replace Larry.”
“But Larry’s body was just discovered last night. You’re already interviewing general managers?”
“But of course! What else am I to do, you silly woman?”
Ouch! Did he really say that? Sadie took a breath and counted to five. “And what ridiculous questions do you suppose I am about to ask, Chef?”
Sadie was met with a very satisfying look of surprise. She figured few people, especially women, confronted the Chef.
“Well, um, like, where were you yesterday?”
“Hmm. And?”
The chef’s face turned beet red.
“In the kitchen, you idiot.” Another look of surprise shadowed his face as he realized the error of his way. Speaking before thinking seems to be a habit for Chef La Compost. Doing his best to remove the foot he had so firmly planted inside his mouth, he took a literal step back and sputtered, “I mean, Ms. Sunshine.” Sadie tried to hold back her grin but couldn’t.
“Ok, and how long were you here last night? Do you have any witnesses who will vouch for your whereabouts?”
Pausing, the Chef stalled, bending down to tie a shoelace. Rising, Sadie was met with an expression much like that of a Cheshire cat. “Nooo, but my wife will vouch that I was home by 2 a.m. We had a conversation last night. We had to…discuss our dog.”
“So, the restaurant closes at 10 p.m., but you didn’t get home until 2 a.m?” Sadie felt like she was playing a game of big stakes poker. I better put my best poker face on. “Where do you live, Chef? How long does it take for you to drive home?”
The Chef looked at his watch. Again, seeming to rally his thoughts. “I live in the John and Suzanna Ahlf house on Sixth Street. We’ve been restoring it. As you probably know, it’s an important historical home in Rogue Valley.”
“Yes, I do know of its historical importance. But, it’s just a 10-minute drive from here.”
“I know, but I stayed late to plan tonight’s menu. And since Larry is no longer around, I had to do his job too. I’m awful with financial matters, so it took me a while to enter the profits for the night and check out the servers.”
“But, nobody can verify that. Right? Did you make any phone calls between 10 and 2? We could check your phone records.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Hmm. Well, let’s move on.” The Chef rolled his eyes but wisely held his tongue. “You said you had a conversation with your wife last night regarding your dog. I spoke with your sister-in-law about 30 m
inutes ago. How fortunate to have a relative who breeds such beautiful and rare dogs! She said she gifted your wife a pup from one of her first litters.” The chef nodded. “I saw an Otterhound last night at Riverside Park. A woman with blond hair, very much like your wife’s, was walking the dog. Do you know if she was at the park last night?”
“Yes. She was at the park. She raved about the firework display from last year for nearly six months. I was so sick of her constant jabbering I was sure I’d go insane. So, of course she went this year. And since that fur ball goes everywhere she does, I’m pretty certain Bubba was the dog you saw last night.”
“Does Bubba, by any chance, play with tennis balls?”
“What a—” the chef caught himself. “Um, yes. What a strange question.”
Good save, Chef. Your foot and mouth disease seems to be clearing up.
“One last question.”
“Yesss?” He tapped his foot.
“Now that Larry is deceased, who owns Bite Me!? From what his brother told us, he never married and he doesn’t have any children. Does that mean his share of Bite Me! passes on to the Mayor?”
“Ha!” Chef La Compost belted. The loud puff of air was coated with cynical amusement. “Larry hated Robert. He once told me that upon his demise, all he owned would go to the North Valley High School football team. That included the inheritance he received from his parents. I believe Mayor Phibbs only received 5 percent of his parent’s estate. The last 5 percent landed in the coffers of St. Anne’s Catholic church.”
Sadie stood to take her leave. She noted that Chef La Compost didn’t mention he was now the sole owner of Bite Me!, as Mary had clearly stated less than 45 minutes ago. Sarah was better off because her husband now owned all rights to a very popular and successful restaurant.
Raised with good manners and proper etiquette, Sadie struggled with the idea of shaking the chef’s hand. She didn’t want to, and she was certain his feelings wouldn’t be damaged if she neglected the nicety. Deciding to ditch the formality, she simply nodded her farewell and exited muttering, “I’m sure we’ll be in touch.”
Chef La Compost adjusted his chef hat with some pomp and circumstance then did an about-turn to once again jaunt his way down the long hallway to his haven of deliciousness and fine cookery.
CHAPTER TWELVE: Car Wreck
Sadieawoke before the alarm went off and found Bosco attached to her hip. Her bossylittle man was real sweet when he was knocked out.
He sure has a big personality for a 10-pound fur ball!
Looking over her bedside, she located Willow asleep on the floor. She preferred the bedroom rug to her doggie bed. All four paws were slowly padding down some dreamy landscape.
Sadie took advantage of the quiet moment and reflected back to the events of the previous day. Her interviews had been chock-full of information and her dinner conversation with Dora ended up helpful and delicious. She had to push an image of Indian Fry Bread out of her head before she was able to organize her thoughts.
Sadie and Dora rendezvoused at Riverside Park and grabbed a carnie-food dinner before relieving Pop from the herbal vendor booth. Sales were incredible and Sadie had no doubt Fort Follyfield’s art program was set for the coming school year. She was glad Mandy agreed to take the parade shift today, even though Teddy was still on the suspect list. Aside from his missing medical alert medal, he was in the clear.
Dora told Sadie that the saliva samples on the tennis balls confirmed an Otterhound had mouthed them. She sent officers to Mary, Burt, and Sarah’s homes before leaving for the park so they could take paw prints and gather DNA samples. The dog print from the park was cast and safely tucked away. Forensic scientists from Portland determined the imprint belonged to a canine weighing between 120-130 pounds.
Sadie reasoned that if the print belonged to an Otterhound, it was highly probable a male made the imprint since females usually weighed less than 100 pounds. She figured that would clear Burt of any guilt since Maxine was a female
Dora then said DNA evidence was successfully collected from the cigarette butts she bagged near the snow cone trailer and in Larry’s garage. Sadie was distressed to hear they were Lucky Strikes. Both Scott and Burt seemed to favor that particular brand.
The two agreed Scott had a strong motive for murder. Since he didn’t own an Otterhound, it was possible he was innocent, or an accomplice. The idea of two killers working together was very unsettling. Dora ordered Officer Stoltzfus to visit both Scott Moore and Burt Welton in order to collect DNA samples using Buccal swabs.
Sadie rolled onto her back and stretched. Hopefully they both complied!
She then recalled Dora’s comments regarding the smudges on the sliding door. Just as she had predicted, they were made by a dog’s nose. Turns out the forensic team lifted a perfect nose print. Every human has a unique fingerprint. Even identical twins don’t have identical fingerprints. The same goes for dog nose prints. I guess we’ll have to get the forensic team to gather prints off Maxi, Bubba, and Mary’s dog pack since they all belong to owners on our suspect list.
Sadie told Dora about her visit to Burt Welton’s place. Not wanting to hold back any facts, she shared how Larry was instrumental in getting Chef La Compost to leave LA. When she confided that Burt was Larry’s silent business partner, until Larry tossed him aside to secure Francis as head chef of Bite Me!, she was flabbergasted. Dora was not as ready as Sadie to cut him loose from the suspect list. I really shouldn’t let his charming and personable personality sway my judgment. Dora is right to keep him on the suspect list.
Sadie also shared that full ownership of Bite Me! passed to Chef La Compost when Larry died, but it hadn’t come up during their interview.
Dora recounted her interview with Mayor Phibbs and shared what Sadie already knew, thanks to her conversation with Burt. Only 5 percent of the Pibbs estate went to Robert. Larry inherited the rest, except for the 5 percent Saint Anne Church received.
As Bosco began to stir, one last thought popped into Sadie’s head. Since Bubba and Barron are the only male Otterhounds in Rogue Valley, I wonder if Mary, Sarah, or Chef La Compost were involved with Larry’s murder.
Sadie gingerly placed her feet on the bedroom floor, then slowly made her way toward her beautifully remodeled French Country kitchen. Coffee…must make coffee. She was incapable of diffusing cheerful rays of sunshine before downing at least one cup of Joe each morning. Reaching for the Dutch Brother’s private reserve, she ground the fresh beans and placed them in her French Press. Bosco and Willow asked to go out, so she opened the sliding door and left it ajar.
When the coffee was ready, she poured nearly half of the press into her favorite mug. Munching on a granola bar, she sipped her brew and gave Dora a call.
She answered after the first ring.
“You won’t believe this!” Dora was eager to share some news.
“What?”
“Guess who was found dead around 5:30 this morning?”
“No idea.”
“Chef La Compost!”
“What? But, I just saw him yesterday!”
“Sorry Sadie. I know it’s a big surprise. Have you had your coffee yet?”
“I’m drinking it now.”
“Well, he was in a car accident. Officer Stoltzfus was driving home, on Grave Creek Road. He stopped to take in the sunrise at the Hellgate Overlook. He saw a red Jaguar crumbled at the River’s Edge. Looks like Chef La Compost took a late night drive and somehow went over the incline.”
“You know, Dora, deer love to jump in front of cars around dawn.”
“We’re way ahead of you,amiga. We didn’t find any tire tracks to signal he stopped quick and swerved, or that he was speeding and lost control of his car. It’s like he just drove off the road intentionally.”
“You’re thinking it’s a case of suicide? That’s crazy, Dora. He was so focused on his restaurant when I interviewed him yesterday.”
“Well, I’ve got officers checking the road
for evidence and the body is already at the morgue. I want to know if he was intoxicated.”
“Have you informed his wife?”
“Yes. She’s devastated. I guess she just crumbled to the floor sobbing. The death notification officer had to call Mary Hunt, her sister. Thankfully, she came right over.”
“Mary told me yesterday that Sarah adored Francis. Although he abused her, she refused to leave him. They don’t have any kids, just their Otterhound, Bubba. I suspect she’ll feel his absence now that she’s the only occupant in that gigantic historic house they call home.” Sadie let a few seconds tick by then asked, “Who identified the body?”
“Geesh, Sadie. Here’s something else you might find strange. The Mayor, the Mayor identified the body. I called him simply as a courtesy, but he insisted on driving to the morgue and making the identification.”
“Well, maybe he was trying to spare Sarah the pain of making the identification herself. The Chef’s body must be pretty banged up.”
“It is. But Sadie, why would Robert Phibbs identify the body of a man working for his estranged brother? There has to be more to this. I don’t think the Mayor was the Chef’s chum. Maybe Sarah and the Mayor are friends. Even though Sarah loved her abusive husband, she could be involved with another person.”
“You mean, are you suggesting, actually implying that Sarah is involved with Mayor Phibbs? He’s married, Dora. He’s a family man. I seriously doubt he would have an affair. Where do you get such notions?”
“I’m a Detective, Sadie. I think of all possibilities. Anyway, I know you have to get ready for the parade. Can you meet Timothy and me at the park afterwards, by the Indian Fry Bread trailer?”
“Sure, but I’ll have Mark in tow. I promised to buy him lunch if he agreed to dress up as a clown.”
“Ha! You know, manly men aren’t afraid of clowns.”
“Indeed! Nor do they run from big floppy feet, red noses, or silly wigs.” Sadie giggled as she hung up the phone. She called her fur-kids back into the house and led them to the bedroom.
Who Killed the Neanderthal Page 8
