Stilettos & Scoundrels

by Laina Turner

  Chapter 17

  I left Cooper’s hotel and decided to take a detour into Betty’s Baked Goods. It was getting easy to stop in there for muffins on a regular basis. If I didn’t go back to the city soon, I would weigh five hundred pounds. My jeans were already feeling tight. There was too much hostility from Dirt toward Cooper when clearly, judging from the clippings I had read through, the story Dirt had told me wasn’t the truth. And Dirt had pretended he didn’t know Simon. It didn’t make sense. It gave me a headache just thinking about it. What the heck was the real story?

  Maybe things would be clearer after a muffin. A warm, fresh, oozing cream cheese muffin would surely make me feel better. And who knew? Maybe Betty would have some more information for me. Betty had been too busy waiting on customers to talk this morning when I got my coffee and ran into Simon. Was that only this morning? It had been a long day and it wasn’t half over. I wanted to fill her in on what had happened outside since I felt I owed Betty some gossip for a change. As I sat down at the worn counter, Betty motioned to me with a finger that she would be a minute and turned back to chatting with one of the regulars. I looked up at the chalk menu board to see what the muffin of the day was. None of them looked to be better than my favorite peach cream cheese, so I walked around the display case to help myself and wait for Betty to come over.

  This was one of the advantages to small towns. You couldn’t serve yourself like that in the city. People would think you were crazy and call the cops. At the very least, they would think you had cooties or something and be horrified at the thought of you touching the muffins but here it was normal.

  I was happily munching away when Betty walked over and sat a glass of milk on the counter. I just looked at her. Milk? Seriously? Yuck! I hated milk, unless it was in cereal. I wanted...no, I needed coffee.

  “Drink it,” Betty barked in a friendly way, not at all threatened by my look. Betty put her order pad in her apron pocket and stuck her pen in her loose bun. It must be a habit as I noticed three other pens stuck in there already. “You young people drink way too much coffee. Besides, it’s almost expired, and I don’t want to throw it away. Cost too damn much and needs to be used up,” she grumbled.

  I wasn’t about to argue with Betty. You had to pick your battles.

  “Have you heard any good gossip?” I asked.

  “If you believe everything you hear, Tom was involved with the Mob. But the way some people here gossip, who knows?”

  At this, my ears perked up. We were finally getting on the right track. This was more like it. If people knew about the senator’s gambling problem and his involvement with the Mob and it wasn’t this big secret like Helen thought, could someone have wanted him dead for it? Other than the people to whom he owed the money?”

  “Who did you hear that from, Betty?”

  “I don’t remember. Some lady named Lisa, Lisa Simmons I think, was in here today asking questions. I wouldn’t tell her anything, of course. None of her damn business if you ask me. I think she was dropping hints just to butter me up and get me to talk.”

  “She’s a reporter from D.C., trying to get information on the murder, too.”

  “That’s what Cooper said. She came in with him and he introduced us,” Betty said, looking at me to see how I would take that bit of information.

  I bristled. “He brought her here?”

  “They walked in together, so I guess it could have been a coincidence.” Betty shrugged.

  That bothered me in a way I didn’t want it to. Him linked with another beautiful girl. I didn’t like it.

  “Betty, have you seen Tobey Stone today?” I said abruptly, interrupting something Betty was saying about the price of fresh produce.

  “Not since early this morning when he came in to get his daily coffee and bran muffin. That boy is all about being healthy. I can’t ever entice him to eat one of my special muffins.”

  Maybe he was still at the hotel dealing with the senator’s affairs. I jumped off the stool and put some money on the counter.

  “Thanks for the great muffin, as usual, Betty.”

  “You’re welcome, honey.”