Death of a Bad Apple

by Penny Pike

  I sensed Jake come up behind me.

  The lipsticked volunteer typed the name into the computer, then squinted at the screen. “Yes, she’s in room 302.”

  “Are you a relative?” the cross-bearing woman asked.

  “Yes,” I lied. “She’s my . . . aunt.”

  Jake cleared his throat. I tried to elbow him quiet but missed.

  “Take the elevator to the third floor, then follow the yellow line to room 302.”

  “Thanks,” I said, then headed in the direction they’d both pointed. Jake caught up with me and pulled my arm.

  “What are you doing?” he said. “She could still be dangerous.”

  “I doubt it,” I said. “I’m sure she’s heavily medicated after being stitched up for that stab wound. I need to find out if she’s all right.”

  The elevator door opened and we stepped in. I pushed the number 3 and we waited in silence as the doors shut and the car began to rise. It stopped abruptly at the third floor and we headed out through the open doors. I spotted the yellow line and followed it to Crystal’s room.

  I paused before entering, took a deep breath, and asked Jake to wait outside for me.

  “No way,” he said, frowning.

  “Please? I want to ask her some questions and I’m afraid she won’t open up if you’re there.”

  Jake shook his head, but he opened the door for me and I entered—alone.

  “Crystal?” I whispered as I stepped into the room. The television was on and Crystal appeared to be watching a reality show on cooking. She looked over at me and clicked off the sound.

  “What are you doing here?” she said, moving her hand to her side—the spot where I had stabbed her—as if to protect it.

  I winced. I could see the thick, large bandage that covered most of her right side and wondered if she was in pain.

  “I . . . wanted to come by and see how you’re doing,” I said gently, not wanting to upset her. I was afraid she might lunge for me and hurt herself, or call the nurse to get me kicked out of her room.

  “You stabbed me!” she said. “How do you think I’m doing? I’m lucky to be alive.”

  I stepped in closer, fairly certain that with all the wires and tubes connected to her, she wouldn’t be able to really retaliate, other than throw a bedpan at me.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. But you did try to kill me.”

  “Only because you stuck your nose in where it didn’t belong. What do you want?”

  “I want to know why you killed Roman and Nathan. Was it all to protect your daughter, to keep Nathan out of her life?”

  She looked at the TV screen for a moment, then back at me. “I’d do anything for Tiffany,” she said. Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes. She sniffed. “She’s everything to me. And that man doesn’t deserve to be called her father.”

  “I understand, considering how hard it was for you to have her in the first place, but he was her father. And why kill Roman? What did he do to deserve that?”

  Crystal’s tears ran down her blotchy face and she grabbed a nearby tissue to wipe them. “He was blackmailing me. With all his snooping around, he found out about Tiffany’s paternity and threatened to tell her and everyone else if I didn’t agree to sell my place to him and get others to do the same. He was an awful, awful man, and he didn’t deserve to get away with his plan.”

  I nodded, mostly just to keep her talking. I didn’t agree with her, but I felt she needed a little understanding and sympathy.

  “I still don’t understand why you killed Nathan, Tiffany’s biological father. Would it have been so bad if they’d had a father-daughter relationship?”

  “That sleazy, womanizing alcoholic? Can you imagine having someone like him in your life and having to call him ‘father’? Red is her father. He’s the one who raised her from birth. He’s the one who deserves the title, even if he did leave us. I couldn’t stand the thought of Nathan trying to take over that role. I didn’t want to take any chances. I had to stop him—permanently.”

  “And you didn’t think telling him to stop would be enough?”

  “No! Once he found out the truth—that he was Tiff’s real father—he wouldn’t let go of the idea of playing daddy. It made me sick. When I saw him go into the maze, I was sure he was going to meet up with Tiffany again, try to win her over. So I followed him. When I found him—alone—we argued again. He threatened me, told me he didn’t care if everyone in town knew the truth. He wanted to be in Tiff’s life. I had no choice. I stabbed him.”

  Wow, I thought, marveling at her skewed logic.

  “Then you planted those seeds to make it look like Honey killed him,” I added.

  She shrugged. “Honey stole my husband. She was going to get what she deserved too.”

  I wanted to argue that Honey hadn’t stolen her husband, but there was no point. I wanted to know why Crystal had done what she’d done. The district attorney could have that argument with her later.

  “Did you set those fires too?” I asked.

  “I only set the fires to try to make it look like those GMO people would stop at nothing to get their properties. I never meant to hurt anyone. Not then, at least.”

  “Well, I hope you get better soon,” I said, sighing. “I better go—”

  “Wait!” She tried to sit up, then held her side and lay back down. “Have you heard anything about Tiffany? Is she okay? She hasn’t been by to see me.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably with her dad—Red. He’s the only family she’s got right now.”

  Tears flowed from Crystal’s eyes again as my words hit home. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for the woman, even after what she’d done. She’d been driven to the brink by pressures from the GMO company, the threat of exposing her daughter’s parentage, and the loss of her husband to another woman. She just didn’t realize the lies, the secrets, the tentative house of cards she’d built had to come tumbling down sometime.

  “Good-bye, Crystal,” I said, heading for the door.

  “Please,” she called out. “Tell Tiffany I love her. I did it all for her.”

  I nodded and left the room, eager to get back to Jake, Aunt Abby, and the comfort of some chicken noodle soup.

  Chapter 26

  Once again we found ourselves gathered at the inn—Aunt Abby, Detective Shelton, Jake, Dillon, and me. I’d filled in Jake on the ride back to the inn and was eager to find out if Honey had been released.

  After hugs and brief explanations, I cleaned up, then joined the others at Honey’s dining table. Aunt Abby had whipped up more comfort food for lunch—chicken noodle soup, fresh garden salad with ranch dressing, and slices of sourdough bread. There wasn’t an apple—a real apple—in sight. Everyone had pretty much had their fill of the sinful fruit.

  “This chicken noodle soup is . . .” I started to say “to die for,” then changed it to: “really, really good! Thanks, Aunt Abby.”

  The others nodded, obviously enjoying Aunt Abby’s authentic home cooking.

  “I thought you might need some when you got back from the hospital,” she said proudly. “I was worried about you. I’m glad you weren’t the one who got stabbed.”

  I winced at the memory. “Any news about Honey’s release?” I asked, then looked at Dillon, who sat at the table with his laptop open in front of him as he typed between bites of soup and salad.

  “What are you working on?” I asked. “Now that Crystal’s in custody for the murders of Roman/Reuben Gottfried and Nathan/Ethan Bramley, are there any other loose ends to tie up? Like what those e-mails between Red and Nathan meant?”

  “That’s obvious,” Dillon said. “Red was threatening Nathan to keep away from his biological daughter, and Nathan was going to do as he pleased.”

  “I suppose so,” I said. “Any idea what Honey and those guys were arguing about that night? I don’t think you’ll find that on your computer.”

  “Easy,” he said smugly. “The GMOs. Roman was trying to get ever
yone to sell their farms. Honey didn’t want any part of that.”

  “Do you really think Nathan was going to sell his farm?” Aunt Abby asked.

  “If the deed was in his name, he could have. I get the feeling Nathan was all about Nathan, no matter what.”

  I was impressed. Dillon was proving to be quite insightful, even without his computer.

  “Then what are you working on?” I asked, indicating the laptop in front of him. Before he could answer, the front door to the inn opened, and we all turned to see who it was.

  “Sheriff O’Neil!” Aunt Abby said, putting down her soupspoon. “We’ve been waiting to hear from you.” She rose from the table and rushed over to him. I hoped he had word of Honey.

  He quickly stepped aside, revealing a very tired-looking but grinning innkeeper behind him.

  “Honey!” Aunt Abby threw her arms around her friend, welcoming her back to her inn. “Everybody, Honey’s home!” she announced unnecessarily to the rest of us.

  Aunt Abby took Honey’s hand and brought her over to the table, where we greeted her with hugs and smiles. No one seemed to notice a third person enter the room except me. It was Red.

  Aunt Abby found seats for Honey and the sheriff, then spotted Red and added another chair. Then she rushed off to the kitchen to get the newcomers some food.

  As soon as the “Welcome home!” greetings ended, I turned to Sheriff O’Neil and told him about my visit with Crystal at the hospital. “Any word on what’s going to happen to her?” I still felt bad stabbing her with the pruning shears and was relieved to have found her bandaged and on the mend, but I reminded myself once again I had only done it in self-defense.

  “She’ll be at the hospital for a few days, under the watchful eye of my deputies, until she’s released. Doc said the wound wasn’t that deep and missed all the vital organs, but she’ll never be able to dance the Nutcracker again.” I smiled at his attempt at humor, but mostly felt relief that I hadn’t killed her. With all that blood, I had imagined the worst, and I shivered at the thought.

  “Don’t worry,” the sheriff said. “She’ll be in fine shape for the jail cell we have waiting for her, although it won’t be as plush as Honey’s home away from home.” He winked at her. “Then it’s up to the DA.”

  “Did she really kill Roman and Nathan?” Aunt Abby asked, returning with a tray of soup, salad, and bread. “Did she confess? Did you throw the book at her?”

  The sheriff smiled indulgently at Aunt Abby’s TV dialogue. “As a matter of fact, the paramedics gave her a narcotic for the pain, and she started rambling like she’d taken old-fashioned truth serum. She blabbered on and on that Roman was blackmailing her about Tiffany’s paternity so she’d sell her farm—they wanted her land—and to help influence other growers to sell their farms, not to mention the fact that Nathan was going to tell Tiffany the truth, which he did. I recorded everything on my cell phone. I plan to play it back for her when she’s off the meds. Her reaction should be interesting.”

  That was why Tiffany had looked so stunned when she came out of the hay maze, followed by Nathan, I thought. He probably told her the truth at that time. And it must have been a shock.

  I nodded. “That was pretty much the same thing she’d told me, Sheriff. She must have still been on that pain medication when I talked to her. Poor Tiffany.”

  I noticed Honey had moved her hand over Red’s at the mention of Tiffany’s name. I wondered what he thought about everything that had happened. He seemed to read my mind.

  “This is all my fault,” he said, glancing at Honey. “If I hadn’t been so angry about all of Crystal’s lies, maybe I would have seen . . .” He stopped and shook his head.

  Honey squeezed his hand. “Red, you didn’t do anything wrong. It was a shock for you, learning Tiffany wasn’t your biological daughter, and you reacted like any human being would after realizing you’d been lied to all those years. But Tiffany is your daughter. You helped raise her. And there’s still time. . . .”

  Red nodded. “I know. I plan to make it up to her. I’ll begin by telling her my side of the story. Then hopefully we can start over. Especially now that her mother will probably go to prison for murder, Tiffany’s going to need me.”

  Everyone was quiet for a few moments, finishing up their lunches as they digested everything that had happened. I was happy to hear that Red was going to repair his relationship with his daughter—biological or not—and that Honey stood beside him. These two really did love each other.

  “I have one more question,” I said. “How did Roman find out all that information?”

  Dillon finally broke the silence. “That’s what I’ve been doing on the computer. I found out a little more about Roman Gold, aka Reuben Gottfried.”

  “Let’s hear it,” Jake said.

  “Dude, Roman had a file called Applehead on his home computer, so I checked it out.” He glanced at the detective and sheriff before continuing. The two lawmen looked at each other and shook their heads. “Anyway, I recognized some of the names listed—Nathan Chapman, Adam Bramley, Crystal Cortland—even you, Honey, and Red.”

  Honey’s eyes went wide. “What was in there?”

  “Lots of stuff—birth date, address, phone number, stuff like that. There were a bunch of random details about each person, like Nathan’s real name and his police record, Adam’s run-in with Nathan at the bar, Red’s hidden connection to his brother, Nathan. The guy also knew that Nathan was Tiffany’s biological father. He probably was blackmailing Crystal, just like she said.”

  “How did he find out all this information about us?” Red asked.

  Dillon shrugged. “He probably hired a hacker. There are a lot of them out there and they can find out just about anything for the right price—even if it’s the wrong thing to do.”

  Aunt Abby smiled at Dillon. “That’s a black hat, right, Dillon?” she said, then announced to the room, “Dillon is a white hat.”

  “Mo-om,” Dillon groaned.

  “So the rest of that stuff Crystal said was probably true too,” Red said. “But can it be used against her?”

  Jake nodded. “Spontaneous utterances are admissible in court,” he said, going into lawyer mode. “You don’t have to be Mirandized just because you’re under arrest. That’s only required if you’re being questioned while under arrest. But if you keep talking, anything you say can then be used against you.”

  It was nice having “lawyer guy” around to clarify things, although I preferred “cream puff guy.” Speaking of cream puffs, I was beginning to have withdrawal symptoms from Jake’s creations. The apple-free ones, anyway.

  Detective Shelton spoke up. “I think Dillon’s right. Roman was probably blackmailing Crystal to get her to influence others to sell their farms to Eden Corporation. And he was doing the same to Nathan. Meanwhile, he had Paula go to work on Adam.”

  “Did she set the fires?” Honey asked.

  “We don’t know yet,” Sheriff O’Neil answered, “but we have a unit searching her home. I’m guessing we’ll find some evidence that connects her.”

  “Actually,” I spoke up, “she pretty much admitted she did that too. She wanted it to look like the GMO company did it as a threat to the farmers so they’d sell.”

  “Why did she pick on Red and me?” Honey asked.

  “Maybe because she knew about your affair with Red before he left Crystal to be with you,” Dillon blurted. “That way she could kill two birds with one stone.”

  Awk-ward.

  Honey glanced at Red. I saw him grip her hand tighter.

  After a moment, he sighed. “Listen, it’s true that we met once in a while—for coffee, or lunch, or a walk through the orchards. We were both lonely and she was a longtime friend. But it was never what you think. We only talked, nothing more. And we waited.”

  He looked over at Honey. She smiled at him.

  “Crystal must have thought otherwise,” Sheriff O’Neil said. “She was probably still in love with you, Re
d.”

  “Okay, I can understand why she set fire to my place and then Red’s, but what about the fire at her festival tent?” Honey asked.

  “I figure she did that to remove suspicion from herself,” the sheriff explained. “I get the feeling her plans kept changing when things didn’t work out the way she hoped, and she kept coming up with new ideas.”

  “Then after the fires at my place and Red’s, she killed Roman,” Honey added. It was as if a light had gone off in her head as she spoke. “So . . . she made it look like I did it by using my antique apple corer. She could easily have come into the inn and stabbed Roman with it. I should have been more careful with the keys and locking the front door, but I had no idea anyone would ever do something like that, let alone someone I knew.”

  “She was a very bitter, desperate woman,” Red said. “All throughout our marriage she lied about things—where she’d been, what she was doing, where she was going. But I let it slide, for Tiffany’s sake. When I found out the truth—that Tiffany wasn’t mine and that she’d gone behind my back to get pregnant—I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “In her defense, Crystal didn’t want you to know you might be infertile,” Sheriff O’Neil added. “She did love you and she wanted to protect you—at least back then. She just didn’t think it through.”

  The sheriff rose and patted his gut. “Thank you, Miss Abby, for the fine lunch.”

  Honey and Red got up. Honey hugged Sheriff O’Neil and thanked him.

  “For what?” he said. “I put you in jail. These folks here were the ones who got you out.”

  “Well, thank you for the kind accommodations at the Apple Valley Police Inn,” Honey said. “You made my stay more comfortable than I expected. I’ll give you five stars on Yelp.”

  Everyone laughed. I admired Honey’s graciousness after being in jail for nearly three days. As soon as the sheriff was gone, Aunt Abby announced it was time to get back to San Francisco and her food truck business.

  “I miss my Basil,” she said. “This is the longest we’ve ever been apart.”