Esther clasped her hands before her, fiddling with the cow button on her denim shirt with the embroidered barn scene. Her mouth opened and closed three times before she croaked out, “Honeybunch, we need to talk.”
Oh, no, not that overused line. She couldn’t be breaking up with me, so she must be about to fire me. No more help for Mom’s bills, no more socking away a few dollars here and there for the day I’d eventually move into my own place again, no more teasing Zennia about her healthy eating or feeling like I was helping Esther launch her business.
“Esther, before you start, I know I haven’t been the best employee lately, but as soon as the police figure out who killed Bobby Joe, I’ll be back to normal, honest.” I bit my lip and waited for her response.
She looked at a spot over my head. “You know I love your work, but Gordon came upstairs a few minutes ago and told me you’ve been missing assignments and leaving early.”
“I’ve kept a strict record of my hours.”
Esther waved her hand. “I’m not worried about that. You’re more honest than Abe Lincoln. But your heart’s not in it. How can you possibly concentrate with everything that’s going on with your sister?”
I held onto the edge of the desk. I felt queasy, and I wasn’t sure if it was from spinning in the desk chair or the direction this conversation was taking. “I’ll admit I’ve been distracted, but I’d like to think I’m still doing a decent job here.”
Esther sank into the guest chair and pressed her lips together. “Gordon has suggested I find a replacement until your personal life calms down.”
Oh, God, she was really going to fire me. Finding a temporary replacement was the first step in my permanent departure. “You don’t need to do that. By the time you find someone, this whole situation will be taken care of.”
Esther touched my knee in a maternal gesture. “I’d like to believe that. Let’s sit on this for a couple of days. If nothing’s changed, we’ll talk again.”
Two days. Not much time. If the police hadn’t made progress in the last five days, would two more make a difference? But two days was better than never filling out my time card again.
“Deal,” I said.
We stood at the same time, and Esther gave me a quick hug. “I know Gordon can be difficult at times, but he loves this farm almost as much as I do.”
“I’ve posted my blog and printed those numbers you wanted me to run by Gordon. What’s next?” I asked, eager to prove my value.
Esther studied me a moment. “Today’s Tuesday. You always fill in for Heather on her day off.”
So much for my increased attention to my job. “Of course. I meant anything before I start that,” I fibbed.
The wrinkles in Esther’s face smoothed out as she bought my lie. Her trusting nature made me feel guilty for deceiving her, but I wasn’t ready to give up my position here.
“I can’t think of anything right off. More businesses have asked if you can paint their windows, but we’ll wait until this weather cools off.”
Man, I hoped they’d forget all about my painting by that time. Sooner or later, someone would realize that what they thought was artistic brilliance was really lack of skill.
“I’ll get started on the rooms.” I stepped into the hall and turned into the laundry room next door. The cleaning supplies and fresh towels sat prepped and ready. I wheeled the cart out the door and across the hall to the French doors.
As I crossed the patio, the wheels bounced along the cement, kicking a small pebble into the pool. The smooth surface broke apart as ripples ran through the water. Yet another example of one tiny disturbance causing major waves. But clearly murder was no small disturbance.
I abandoned the cart by the cabins and made my way to the pigsty. Wilbur looked up expectantly, probably hoping I’d have a treat for him.
“Sorry, only me.” I leaned on the rail. “Turns out Gordon’s right. I am doing a bad job these days.”
Wilbur nosed at the mud and grunted.
“It’s just that I have to solve this murder. Ashlee’s freedom depends on it.” I slapped my hand on the rail. “Am I ever going to figure this thing out?”
Wilbur snorted several times in a row. I’d almost swear he was laughing.
I pointed a finger at him. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, I’ll go talk to Berta.” Sure, Berta had pecked my hand the few times I’d collected her eggs, but that proved she was a no-nonsense chicken.
Wilbur lowered his head as if embarrassed by his behavior, but I was the one who should have been embarrassed. I was getting mad at a pig, for pete’s sake.
“Sorry, I’m on edge. Guess I should get back to work.”
I returned to the cart and grabbed a dust rag. The first three cabins were vacant and still clean from Heather’s work the previous day. I ran a cloth over the surfaces, did a quick vacuum, and moved on. The next room belonged to Crusher. My mood perked up when I saw he wasn’t there.
I hurriedly cleaned the bathroom, stripped the sheets and threw on new ones, then plumped up the pillows and straightened the items on the coffee table. I was spritzing a burst of homemade lavender water into the air when the cabin door opened and Crusher walked in. So much for avoiding that first awkward meeting after our non-date.
As always, he looked relaxed in his jeans and T-shirt with a surfboard on the front.
I gathered up my cleaning bottles and dust rags. “I’ll be out of here in a sec.”
“No rush. I always like to see you.”
I wasn’t sure whether I should take that as a romantic or platonic remark, so I ignored it. “What have you been up to?”
He moved into the room. “I met with my scout again yesterday. He videotaped me performing my trick to show to possible sponsors, even interviewed me to make it like a promo.” He grabbed his laptop off the dresser. “You should watch it. It’s wicked.”
Gordon picked that moment to walk by the open door and peer in. His usual frown deepened when he saw me talking to Crusher, but he kept walking.
“I need to finish the rest of the rooms. Maybe another time.” I darted to the door, clutching my supplies.
“Have I done something?” Crusher called as I flew over the threshold and reloaded the cart.
I slipped the air freshener into a vacant slot and glanced around to make sure Gordon wasn’t lurking nearby. I spotted him down at the end of the row, and I turned toward Crusher, who had moved to the doorway.
“It’s not you. I got reamed by my boss this morning.” Well, technically my boss’s right-hand man, but same difference. “I need to focus on my work or else I might be replaced.”
Crusher scratched his head. “I had no idea. You could always stop by at lunch to watch the video. I really think you’ll like it.”
Would I even take a lunch break after this morning’s lecture? Should I work through my meals to prove my dedication? If I did take a break, it would be to track down Maria and ask about her alibi, not to watch Crusher’s video.
“No guarantees, but I’ll try to stop by later today,” I said.
“Awesome. I should be around.”
I pushed the cart forward a few feet and stopped at the next door. Darlene and Horace were out, probably hiding in embarrassment at the state of their room. Wrinkled socks and underwear were scattered across the sofa, empty Styrofoam coffee cups occupied every surface, and chocolate from half-eaten candy bars oozed onto the wooden dresser top. I straightened up as best I could without manhandling too many of their personal items. I chose to ignore the clear plastic makeup bag full of the spa’s little shampoo and conditioner bottles as I wiped down the counters in the bathroom.
Chores completed, I took one more look at the room and cringed. Even after tidying up, the space was far too cluttered. But Horace and Darlene seemed the type to complain if I threw away anything not already in a trash can. Maybe they were planning to stick those Styrofoam cups in their suitcase for a new set of free drinkware. I shrugged at the half-f
inished room and left, pulling the door closed behind me.
As I stepped behind the cleaning cart, Darlene and Horace came around the corner, Darlene’s wooden cane tapping on the cement path. I pushed the cart to the next door, grabbed a handful of cleaners, and hurried inside before they could ask for more toiletries.
I managed to clean the room without interruption and finish up the remaining cabins. I returned the cart to the laundry room and went into the kitchen to see if Zennia needed help prepping lunch.
She sat at the table, sipping a green substance that smelled suspiciously like seaweed and nibbling on a brown square that looked like a muddy hay cake. She set her teacup on its saucer. “Dana, what have you been up to lately?”
Trying to solve a murder, worrying about keeping my job, avoiding the Steddelbeckers. “Too much to relate. But my schedule is open now, and I’m free to help you with lunch.”
Zennia sipped her mystery brew again. “As you can see, I’m not exactly swamped. With only three guests, I figured I’d make okra and lima bean vindaloo for lunch.”
I suppressed a shudder. “Sounds interesting.”
She chuckled. “You’re always so diplomatic.”
“I try.” I poured myself a glass of lemonade and sat down across from her. “Any updates from your nephew?”
Zennia shook her head. “He was passing along most things he heard from the police department, but he’s been real hush-hush lately.”
“Why’s that, do you think?”
She brushed at the front of her tie-dyed dress, where bits of hay had gathered. “When he gets quiet like that, it means they’re about to make an arrest.”
The gulp of lemonade I’d swallowed shot back up as fear threatened to close off my throat.
I only knew of one person they could be planning to arrest.
Ashlee.
29
I coughed and spluttered as I forced the lemonade down.
Zennia handed me a napkin. “Goodness, are you all right?”
I nodded, unable to speak.
“Would you like some of my kelp tea? It relaxes the muscles. Might help your throat.”
I shook my head emphatically and willed my throat to calm down before Zennia served me slimy weeds from the ocean. I managed to whisper, “I’m fine.”
“Whoo, you gave me a scare there,” she said.
I swallowed more lemonade to lube my throat before I spoke again. “Any idea who the police are thinking about arresting?”
Zennia laid a hand on my arm. “I am so thoughtless. My chi must be misfiring today. I completely forgot Ashlee was involved in this mess.”
“Is that who the police are about to arrest? Please, I need to know.”
She looked at her tea cup. I really don’t know. Maybe it’s that Todd fellow that my nephew mentioned before.”
I couldn’t tell whether Zennia was lying to protect me or really didn’t know. But the answer didn’t matter. I needed to clear Ashlee’s name no matter what. What else could I do to help? I’d interviewed everyone, broken into Todd’s truck, and confronted Donald about his drug dealings. I was running out of options.
I realized with a start that Zennia was talking to me. “Sorry, what’s that?”
Zennia gestured toward two full boxes of vegetables sitting near the back door that had escaped my attention until now. “I was saying that we’ve been overrun by tomatoes and zucchini with this hot weather. With so few guests, I can’t possibly use everything before it spoils, and I was wondering if you could take the extras to the food bank.”
“I’d be happy to.” I could use the alone time to figure out my next steps with Ashlee. Maybe I’d come up with a course of action while I was in town.
Zennia took the box of zucchini, while I grabbed the box of tomatoes. We loaded them in the back of my car, and I headed out.
On the drive, I once more struggled with whether I should tell the police about Donald’s drug dealings and that he was possibly working with Stump. I’d hesitated because I’d wanted the police’s full attention on Bobby Joe’s murder. But if the cops were using that time to build a case against Ashlee, maybe I needed to provide a distraction after all. Or maybe the drugs were somehow responsible for Bobby Joe’s death.
I exited the freeway, swung through the nearest drive-thru for an iced tea, then pulled into the first shady spot I could find. I dialed Jason’s number on my cell phone, crossing my fingers that he wasn’t too involved with work. I needed his full attention.
“Dana, it’s good to hear from you.” The warmth in his voice sent a rush of pleasure through me.
“Jason, I need some advice.”
I’d heard typing in the background when he’d first spoken, but the sound ceased.
“Of course. What’s up?”
“I’ve discovered that two of the suspects in Bobby Joe’s murder are involved in other illegal stuff, and I’m not sure if I should tell the police. They might forget all about the murder investigation.”
“What kind of illegal activity?”
The excitement in his voice leaked through the cell connection. I could imagine the journalist antenna sprouting from the back of his head.
“Drug sales.”
Jason let out a low whistle. “You said two. Are we talking a husband-and-wife team here?”
I sucked some iced tea through the straw. “No. It’s Stump and Donald. I never would have even realized those two knew each other except I stopped by the gas station yesterday right in the middle of a sale and put the pieces together.”
“Stump was selling to Donald? What was it? Meth?”
“Pot. And Stump is supplying the stuff to Donald, who then hides it in this ugly little seashell and sells it to people pretending to buy gas.”
A rumble came over the phone. I was so surprised by the sound that it took me a moment to process that Jason was laughing.
“What’s so funny? This could be important.”
Jason kept chortling while I struggled with the urge to hang up on him. When he spoke, his voice still sounded amused. “Sorry. I was picturing a major meth ring with underworld connections, but it sounds like a small-time pot operation to me. The cops don’t care about those around here. They’re way too common.”
“Even though I caught Donald in the act?” The cops in the Bay Area seemed to focus more on the large marijuana growers, but surely any drug bust was a big deal in this town.
“They might send an undercover officer out there to try and buy a bag, but they’re not going to pull anyone off another case. I’m pretty sure even my eighty-year-old neighbor sells pot in her spare time.”
Jason laughed again. Good thing we weren’t in the same room, or I might accidentally kick him in the shins.
“Huh.” Another potential dead end. Then again, Donald had seemed pretty worked up when I’d discovered his secret. Just because Jason felt the cops would overlook Donald’s dealings didn’t mean Donald wasn’t worried about it. I mulled this over.
In the silence, I heard Jason resume his typing.
“Working on a big story?” I asked.
“Article about the cooling centers being shut down due to budget cuts. A timely topic with this heat wave.”
I wished he hadn’t mentioned the heat wave. The car immediately felt hotter. I turned the ignition key and hit the A/C button, then sipped some iced tea.
“I thought those centers were popular,” I said.
“They are. But the city council sees them as a luxury item.”
I shook my head, not that Jason could see that. “Tell that to some ninety-year-old sitting at home with no air-conditioning.”
“Preaching to the choir.” Jason cleared his throat. “Say, how about dinner tonight?”
“Are you asking out of personal interest or as a reporter who wants to interview me about my drug-busting skills?”
Jason laughed. “I’ll definitely be off the clock, I promise. And you have to take a break from all this Bobby Joe stuff, too.”
I’d been about to laugh, but the sound died in my throat. “I can’t guarantee that. Zennia thinks the police are about to arrest someone, and that someone could easily be Ashlee. They stopped by to see her again yesterday.”
“I know you’re worried about your sister, but you can’t obsess every minute. You need a night off to get your head straight.”
He had a point. I felt like all I did was think about the information I had, then get confused, then review it all again with no progress. It was like exercising on a stationary bike—all you did was wear yourself out without getting anywhere. “I’ll try. That’s the best I can do.”
“Deal. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
I hung up, feeling almost giddy. Dinner might be what Jason and I needed to smooth over the week we’d been having.
With a renewed burst of energy, I dropped my cup into the holder and pulled out into traffic. I passed the new downtown shops, pleased to see cars parked out in front of the wine bar, before turning onto a side street and driving by a row of mostly vacant buildings. On the next block, Second Kitchen sat alone. Someone had attempted to paint over the graffiti on the two sides that I could see, but some of the words still showed through. A new blue awning covered the door, and a man in a T-shirt and shorts swept up broken glass in the parking lot.
I pulled around back to where a rolling garage door sat open and popped my trunk. A man in cargo pants and a plaid shirt appeared in the doorway and approached my car as I got out.
“Vegetables from the O’Connell Organic Farm and Spa,” I told him. He grabbed the first box without a word. I took hold of the second one and followed him inside.
Three people worked in the large, high-ceilinged room, sorting through boxes, stocking shelves, and breaking down cardboard. I set down my box where the man indicated and straightened up, noting a woman whose back was to me. She turned around, and I sucked in my breath.
Tara.
She caught sight of me at the same moment and glanced over her shoulder as if she planned to run for an available exit. With none in sight, her shoulders sagged a smidge, or maybe that was my imagination. She offered me something that was probably meant to be a smile but looked instead like she’d just swallowed a bug.
All Natural Murder Page 23
