“What are you talking about?”
I watched the traffic whiz by, then said, “Think about it, Maddy. The only people who’d be willing to report the blackmail attempts would be folks who didn’t kill him. It would only bring scrutiny, something the killer couldn’t afford. Nobody’s that stupid.”
“You think? I understand the criminal element isn’t all that intelligent.”
“That’s because you get your opinions from watching COPS reruns. I can’t see someone killing Richard Olsen because he was blackmailing them, then filing a complaint about it.”
Maddy seemed to consider it, then nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Think about it, though. If he was blackmailing two people who were willing to report it, he could have been blackmailing more that wouldn’t dare.”
“So, how do we find out?”
“It’s got to be tied to that P.O. box,” I said.
Maddy swung the car around, and I asked, “Where are we going?”
“I want to see this box, and if there’s anything in it.”
We drove to the post office, where the boxes were kept in a separate hallway nook. I had to admit, I was curious if there was anything in there myself.
Maddy and I walked in together, and as I pretended to search my purse for a key, we both glanced inside the clear glass window of number ten. There was a single letter in there, but we didn’t need to open it to see who had sent it.
It was lavender, just like the ones Richard had received from Faith Baron.
But was it another love letter, or did this one contain something more?
Chapter 10
“It’s another dead end,” Maddy said as we walked back out to her car.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s obviously just another mash note,” she said. “And I don’t have any desire to read it, do you?”
“I’d still like to see what it says,” I said. “Do you think there’s a chance Sheila would show us?”
“I don’t think she even realizes there’s a P.O. box in her brother’s name. From the speed that she cleared out those bank accounts, I doubt she’d leave any possible source of revenue untouched.”
“That’s true. She probably even cashed in the rolls of coins you two found.”
“How’d you know?” Maddy asked. “She did it while we were at the bank together.”
Then I remembered what had been nagging at the back of my mind. “You found something else in that box, didn’t you?”
Maddy frowned, then said, “You know what? There was a scrap of paper in there, too. In the excitement of finding all of that money in the checking account, I forgot all about it.”
“Did you happen to see what was written on the paper?”
Maddy nodded. “She handed it to me while we were in the vault.” She frowned a second, then added, “I don’t think I ever gave it back to her.”
“You’ve had it the entire time and forgot it?”
My sister looked apologetic as she said, “Hey, things were a little crazy, what with her fainting and shattering my cell phone.”
“Maddy, where’s the piece of paper?”
She bit her lip, a sure sign my sister was concentrating, then said, “I have no idea, unless I stuffed it into my jacket pocket.”
“Was this the jacket you were wearing?”
“No,” Maddy said as she did another U-turn, slamming me against the passenger door.
“Would you please stop doing that?” I snapped.
“Sorry. We need to go to my apartment. That’s where the jacket is now.”
We got back to her place, and though we both searched high and low for it, the coat in question wasn’t there.
“Somebody broke in and stole it,” she said.
“The door was locked when we got here,” I said. As I looked around, there were no signs that there’d been a burglary. I walked to the door and looked at the locks. No signs of forced entry, either. “You must have left it somewhere else.”
“The only three places I’ve been are here, your place, and the pizzeria.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not at my house,” I said.
“Then let’s go to the Slice.”
I glanced at my watch. “If we hurry, we might be able to make fresh dough for today after all.”
“Eleanor, we’ve got more important things to do than bake.”
“My reputation is all I’ve got left, Maddy. If folks notice that something’s a little off, they might not come back. And then where will we be?”
“Well, for starters, you won’t be in jail for a crime you didn’t commit.”
“There’s that,” I said as I nodded. “But if the Slice goes under, we’re both out of work. That’s not inconsequential.”
“No, I realize that. Tell you what. Let’s go to the Slice, see what the note says, then decide after that.”
“I can live with that,” I said.
As we hurried toward the pizzeria, I wondered what might be on that scrap of paper. Could it be an important clue, or was it just some of the flotsam we all seem to accumulate in our lives? I hadn’t been inside my own safety-deposit box since I’d retrieved Joe’s will and life insurance policy. I didn’t have any real idea what else was in there, since he’d taken almost exclusive care of it. One of these days I’d have to go in and clean it out, but I still couldn’t bring myself to do it yet.
Maddy and I got to the Slice an hour past our usual time, but I could still make the regular- and thin-crust doughs we needed. I’d discovered a way to speed up the process, and though the quality might not be 100 percent, both would still be miles ahead of the frozen crusts we used in a pinch. Maddy searched for her jacket as I prepped the yeast and the other ingredients.
“It’s not here,” Maddy said a few minutes later.
“You must have left it somewhere else,” I said as I kneaded the dough.
“I’m not talking about my jacket,” she said as she held it up for me to see. “I’m saying that the note is gone.”
“Are you sure you jammed it into your pocket?”
Maddy shrugged. “I’m never sure about anything anymore.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll turn up sooner or later.”
Maddy stared at me as she said, “You’re taking this awfully casually. I thought we were going to spend the morning looking for clues.”
“Funny, I thought we just had. We’re not going to solve this overnight, Maddy. In the meantime, we’ve got work to do here.”
My sister frowned. “I know you’re right, but I feel so helpless. We can’t leave it to Kevin Hurley. There’s too much at stake.”
“Hey, I’m not giving up,” I said as I wiped a smudge of flour off my cheek with the back of one hand. “I’m just saying that we can’t let the quality of our pizzas slip even a little. This is important, too.”
“Okay, you’re right,” she said as she reached for her apron. “I’ll get started on the toppings.”
“That’s the spirit. In the meantime, while we work we can still talk about what our next move should be.”
After she washed up, Maddy began prepping the toppings trays, swinging her knife through the air periodically for special emphasis.
As I covered the dough with a washcloth to rise, I started making a fresh batch of our homemade sauce for the next day. After it cooked, it needed to be cooled, then strained, so it was always something I had to keep my eye on. I didn’t mind, though. Making the sauce was one of my favorite jobs at the Slice.
As I sautéed the garlic and onion in butter on the stovetop, I said, “We’ve come up with a pretty strong list of suspects, don’t you think?”
“Too many, if you ask me,” she said. “I was kind of hoping we’d be able to eliminate some of them by now, but instead, it just keeps growing.”
“I think we can cross Carl Wilson off our list,” I said as I added the tomatoes, paste, salt, pepper, and my own blend of spices to the pot.
&n
bsp; “Why do you say that?”
After I brought everything in the pot to a boil, I reduced the heat to a simmer and set the timer for two hours. All I had to do now was stir it occasionally, then mash the tomatoes from time to time while the heat did the hard work. “Did you see the look on his face? He felt betrayed. I don’t think he had any idea what Richard had been up to.”
“I don’t know. I’m not ready to cross him off our list,” Maddy said.
“Fine, we can keep digging, but I don’t think he did it.” As I started cleaning up my station, I asked, “Do you have anybody you’re ready to cross off?”
“No, but that reminds me. I’ve got a call to make.”
“You’re not phoning Bob Lemon, are you? I thought we agreed not to do that.”
“Take it easy. I’m calling my friend Cindy, at Dusty’s. I want to see if the Barons really were there most of the night.”
“You don’t believe anybody, do you?”
“Not when it comes to murder,” Maddy said as she washed her hands.
“Even me?”
She pretended to look me over thoroughly. “Until I find something that makes me believe otherwise, I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“Gee, thanks. I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”
Maddy laughed as she reached for the phone.
“I didn’t think they opened till four,” I said.
“I can’t exactly call her at work, can I?” Maddy asked.
After she dialed the number, my sister said, “I’ll take this into the dining room so it doesn’t bother you.”
“It won’t bother me,” I protested.
By the time I said it, she was gone. I wanted to hear at least her end of the conversation, but unless I walked out front, I wouldn’t be able to. Maybe she’d have to reference the mysterious favor she’d done her friend and didn’t want to do it within my hearing. If that was the case, I should be thanking her instead of scolding.
Four minutes later, she came back in smiling. “Well, that was interesting.”
“What did she say?” I asked as I mashed the tomatoes again, then stirred the pot.
“She thinks they were there, but she could swear they left before nine.”
I shrugged as I put down the wooden spoon I’d been using to stir. “That’s not exactly something we can take to Kevin Hurley, is it?”
“I can do better than that,” she said. “As soon as Cindy gets to work, she’s going to check credit card receipts. It will have the exact time they paid on it, so that should be proof one way or the other, wouldn’t you think?”
“Could we get a copy of it, or is that too risky?”
“I’ve already got it covered. Cindy was more than happy to promise to fax it here as soon as she gets it.” We took faxed food orders, an idea of Joe’s that hadn’t worked out that well, but sometimes it was nice having a fax available for suppliers and such.
“Wow, that’s some favor. I’d hate to think she’s risking her job for us.”
Maddy said, “Don’t worry, she’s not. I already told her if she couldn’t get hold of the receipt not to sweat it, but knowing Cindy, she’ll have it before four.”
“In the meantime, we need to get ready for our lunch crowd, assuming there’ll be one. Do you want to run the kitchen today, or the front?”
“Why don’t we let Greg handle the front and we’ll work together back here?”
I glanced at the schedule, though I knew it by heart. “Greg’s not coming in today. He’s got a psychology class at the college, and then he’s doing his work-study at the library. It’s Josh’s shift today, but I’m pretty sure he won’t be in, either.”
“After getting shot at in your car, you’d think the chief of police would be smart enough to know that you didn’t take a potshot at yourself.”
“He still thinks what happened to us last night is unrelated to Richard Olsen’s murder, so I’m pretty sure he still thinks I could have done it. And until somebody figures out who killed the man, we’re going to be shorthanded.”
“You could always hire someone else to take his place,” Maddy said.
“I thought you liked Josh.”
“I do,” my sister protested, “but that doesn’t mean we can ignore the fact that we’ll be working alone today.”
“Buck up,” I said as I shoved her apron to her. “If today’s anything like yesterday, I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be able to handle it just fine.”
“Just one thing, then,” Maddy said.
“What’s that?” I asked as I tied my own apron on.
“No more call-in orders, okay? I don’t want to see my car window end up like yours.”
“Nobody does, believe me,” I said. “As far as I’m concerned, we can disconnect the blasted phone until this is over.”
“We’d better not do that,” Maddy said. “We might need it later.”
“Fine, but the ringer stays off.”
“Done,” Maddy said. She glanced up at the clock, then added, “Two minutes till noon. I might as well open up.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” I said.
“So you say.”
After Maddy was gone, I leaned over and turned on the radio to get the local news and weather. It was a ritual, much like coming in and making dough fresh every morning, a series of tasks that let me know I still had a place in this world.
Three minutes later she came back into the kitchen.
I said, “That was quick. Do you have an order for me already?”
“Nobody’s here,” she said. “Usually we have at least four or five folks waiting by the door for us to open, but when I opened the door a minute ago, I could swear I saw a couple of tumbleweeds drifting past.”
“There aren’t any tumbleweeds in Timber Ridge,” I said.
“I know, but if there were, they wouldn’t have much competition for traveling space, at least not in front of our place.”
I frowned. “Maybe everybody stayed in today. It’s cold out, and the wind’s picking up. I just heard on the radio that there’s a chance of snow flurries later.”
“If they come, we could use it as an excuse, but it’s not keeping folks from shopping everywhere else. I glanced down the plaza, and Paul’s Pastries is so busy he might have to turn some of them away.”
“They’ll come back to us,” I said, with more hope in my voice than in my heart. “You need to be ready when they do.”
“Fine, but I get the crossword puzzle,” she said as she reached for the paper. We didn’t take the Timber Ridge paper, since the owner/editor had such a grudge against our family, but that didn’t mean we wanted to live without the news. Instead, we took the paper from Charlotte at the pizzeria. Much of the local news didn’t matter to either one of us, but it kept us informed about national events and supplied a crossword puzzle every day; word jumbles; and Wuzzles, word puzzles that were fun to cipher out. Maddy and I usually alternated during lulls, but if this current respite kept up much longer, we’d have to subscribe to more newspapers just for their puzzles.
We ultimately got a few customers, but not enough to meet our basic expenses for the day, let alone the salaries Maddy and I drew. I was thinking about shutting the place down when I heard the fax beeping at me.
I walked back into the office and pulled the paper out of the tray. Cindy had faxed us the receipt, then added another sheet that said, “Here you go. I know this doesn’t make us even, but I hope it knocks a little off my debt to you. Cindy.”
I took the fax up front, prepared to pull Maddy aside to show her.
That wasn’t going to be a problem, though, since we had the place to ourselves.
I handed her the paper, then said, “I’m going to make us a pizza. How does that sound?”
“I thought you’d never ask. I’ll join you.”
“What if someone comes in?”
Maddy said, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll prop the kitchen door open so I can hear the f
ront door chime. Don’t get your hopes up, though. This is usually a slow time for us anyway, and with the way things have been going today, I’d be surprised if someone came in asking for change.”
“You’ve got a point,” I said as I pulled out some dough and began knuckling it into a pan.
Maddy studied the document, then asked, “Did you see the time they left?”
“I don’t know about that, but they paid at 7:02 P.M.”
“Not exactly a late dinner, is it? They had plenty of time to get back here and shove a knife into Richard Olsen by ten, when you found him.”
“You think they did it together?” That possibility had never even occurred to me.
“No, it’s a little too Hitchcock for my taste, but that doesn’t mean one of them didn’t slip away from home and do it alone.”
“So their alibi isn’t worth much, is it?”
“Certainly not the way Steve Baron made it sound.”
“Then we keep digging,” I said as I added sauce, then toppings and cheese.
“It’s what we do lately, isn’t it? It’s frustrating not being able to eliminate anyone, isn’t it?”
I nodded as I cleaned up the minuscule mess I’d just made. Joe and I had agreed from the first day of opening the Slice that our workstations would be as clean as we could make them. It hadn’t been that hard for me to do, but Joe was a “clean-up-at-the-end-of-the-day” kind of guy, and it had taken months for him to acquire new habits. We’d made jokes about old dogs and new tricks, but I’d have given anything to clean up after him one last time. Funny how it was the little things I seemed to miss so much.
“Hey, are you okay?” Maddy asked, drawing me back to the present.
“I’m fine,” I said as I wiped the prep counter down again.
“You were thinking of Joe, weren’t you?” she asked, her voice softer than I’d heard it in several months.
“I was,” I admitted. “How did you know?”
She seemed to think about it, then said, “You get this wistful look in your eyes that nearly breaks my heart. Eleanor, I don’t want you to ever forget your husband, but is it really healthy to keep mourning him for the rest of your life?”
A Slice of Murder Page 16
