When the Grits Hit the Fan

by Maddie Day

  “Maybe.” She stood, too. “I’m sorry to bother you, Robbie. I can see you’re busy.”

  I’d never heard that note of resignation in her voice before. “It’s okay. The rush seems to finally be over.”

  “You’re so smart, I thought of you first. Some of the people in this town”—she raised her eyebrows—“well, they’re not exactly rocket scientists.”

  “Neither am I.” I patted her arm. “If I get the name of anyone, I’ll let you know. When did the detective say she wanted to question him?”

  Georgia checked her watch. “At three. I’d better get home. I told the library I wasn’t coming back today and they weren’t happy about it. If I lose that job, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “You won’t. I’ll call Lou right now.”

  “Thanks, Robbie. You’re a peach.”

  I watched her pull open the heavy antique door before heading to my customer. That was nice, if she thought I was a peach. But I’d be a piece of rotten fruit if I didn’t figure out the killer soon. All these innocent people—Lou, Georgia, Zen—being harassed, and I’d been threatened.

  Where was the guilty one?

  Chapter 45

  When my phone rang an hour after we closed, I assumed it was Lou returning my call, but it was Zen on the line.

  I greeted her. “What’s up?”

  “I think I told you I’m in training for a marathon, but now I’ve decided to do a triathlon, too, which means riding a bike. Not my strong suit. Would you have time to stop by and take a look at my bike?”

  I laughed. “And biking is mine, but running sure isn’t.”

  “It’s a long course triathlon, which means a half-marathon distance run and a one-point-two-mile swim. Those I’m fine with. The fifty-six mile cycling route? Yikes.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “I wanted to really push myself.”

  “I guess.” More pushing than I was interested in, but, hey, to each her own.

  She groaned. “Might have been a mistake. Anyway, I want to see if you think the cycle I have would be good for the job or if I need to get another one.”

  “Happy to. I’ve done my ordering and there’s a locksmith working on the barn right now. I think he won’t be here much longer, though.”

  One of Abe’s locksmiths had finally gotten back to me and had showed up exactly when he said he would.

  “How about at four-thirty?” So much for spending the afternoon in demolition mode, which I needed to get back to. If talking to Zen about bikes could lead to a casual inquiry about her alibi, it would be worth postponing renovation work.

  “Four-thirty it is. It shouldn’t take you more than fifteen minutes to get here.” She gave me directions before she hung up.

  At four forty-five, with a shiny new key on my key ring, I pulled up to her brown split-level house at the end of a long driveway. I could barely see the neighboring houses through the woods on either side. She must really like her privacy.

  I experienced a quick pang of anxiety. Octavia thought Zen was a person of interest in the murder. What if she’d in fact killed Charles? I’d seen that patch on her red jacket. Could she be my intruder? I didn’t think so, but I’d sure been wrong before. And here I was walking into her house isolated from neighbors, nobody knowing where I was.

  I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Lou. FYI, at Zen’s house for a little while. Wanted somebody to know.

  I slid the phone back into my bag. As I approached the house, Zen pulled open the front door. She wore black yoga pants and a light blue sweater.

  “Sorry I’m late. The locksmith took longer than I thought.” I got one of those flashes of déjà vu, but I’d never been there before. What was it? Something seemed oddly familiar.

  “No problem. Come in.”

  As I followed her down the hall, I thought maybe what seemed familiar was the layout of the house, which was kind of like my aunt’s. I sniffed. Or maybe it was the scent of baking, which was how Adele’s kitchen often smelled.

  The hall ended in a big combo family room and kitchen. A round table was covered with papers and a laptop computer. The back wall was a stunning bank of windows running from knee level to the ceiling. Outside the woods huddled before us, with black-capped chickadees flitting in to extract seeds from a hanging roofed feeder and then getting edged out by brilliant red cardinals.

  Zen led me to a bike leaning against the side wall.

  “A Quintana Roo.” I ran my hand over the frame. “Excellent starter bike. Which model is it?”

  “Dulce.”

  I touched the two-pronged fork holding the front wheel. “Carbon fork?”

  “They said the whole frame is carbon,” Zen said. “Whatever that means.”

  I lifted the bike up a few inches with one hand and set it back down. “It means it’s nice and light. You’ll do fine with this.”

  “I hope so. I couldn’t believe bikes are so expensive. I saw ones for three times as much, but . . .” She lifted a shoulder and dropped it as her voice trailed off.

  “This one’s good. When’s the race?”

  “Not until May. But I need to get going on my training now.”

  “I’d be happy to go riding with you one day if that would help,” I said. “Once the snow melts.”

  “Really?” She turned to me and her blue eyes popped. “That’d be great.”

  Her blue eyes. That was what looked familiar to me, not the layout of her house, not the scent of baking. And her height, her trim build, her self-confident manner. But who did she—? Oh! She reminded me of Jo Schultz. Funny. I shrugged mentally. Everybody had a virtual twin. In fact, I’d met a woman when I was in college who looked so much like me people were always getting us confused. And we weren’t in any way related.

  “Can I offer you a beer?” Zen asked. “Or a glass of wine, or something stronger?”

  “Sure. Red wine if you have it.”

  “Have a seat, then.”

  I slid out of my coat and sat on the couch. The room was decorated simply, with bright throw pillows on the black couch and several striking vases painted in black and white geometric designs.

  A minute later, she handed me a glass and set a basket of goldfish crackers on the coffee table. She sat with her own glass in a chair at an angle to the couch. Both pieces of furniture were positioned to have a good view of the great outdoors.

  “Thanks.” I grabbed a few crackers and munched them before tasting the wine. “You have a fabulous view here.”

  “I know. It’s only a rental, but I wish I owned it. Have you heard any news about Charles’s murder?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think they’ve made any progress at all, which is worrisome. It’s been almost a week, as you know. I read somewhere that if they don’t crack a case in the first forty-eight hours, they might never.”

  “That’s awful.” She looked out into the dappled late-afternoon light. “Imagine a person getting away with killing. Walking around, buying groceries, going to church. Or maybe plotting the next victim.”

  “Yeah, it’s creepy. It might help if you told the detective where you were that night and morning. At least they could stop wasting time trying to figure it out on their own.” I might be overstepping, but it was the truth.

  She pulled her mouth to the side, gazing at me. After a few long moments she spoke. “It’s like this. Part of it is that I’m trying to hold my own in a department that’s half made up of older white guys. I’m gay, Robbie, and I’m afraid if I come out it’s going to somehow get thrown back at me.” She picked a piece of lint off the arm of the chair.

  “I would have thought at a big university it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “It could be worse. But even more important is my family. Not my sister, but my parents. They’re really, really conservative. If they find out I’ll never hear the end of it. They’ll want me to go to one of those places that claims to cure homosexuals. As if.” Zen pressed her lips together.
<
br />   “That’s tough. I’m sorry you have to deal with that from your own parents.”

  “I know I’m a throwback—everybody’s out these days—but that’s how I feel.”

  “And you’re afraid if you tell Octavia, it will get back to your family.”

  “Exactly. Probably shouldn’t even have told you. That night and into the next morning I was with my girlfriend. Well, you met her in your restaurant the next day. Karinde.”

  “Would she vouch for you?” I sipped my wine.

  “Maybe. Except she recently went off on a three-month silent retreat. I couldn’t do it, but she likes to meditate and there’s this place in Massachusetts, IMS, which sponsors long retreats. That was why I wanted to spend that time with her, phone off, before she left.” Zen rubbed a silver ring on her right hand with her thumb.

  This wasn’t good. Saying you were with someone who couldn’t confirm the story wasn’t any different from saying you’d been alone. Was she telling the truth? My gut was telling me Zen hadn’t killed Charles, but what did I know, really?

  “You look like you’re thinking hard over there,” Zen said.

  Oops. I cleared my throat. “I still think it would help if you told Octavia. And if you mention your concerns, I imagine she would honor them.”

  “At least if my parents were to find out, they won’t have to worry about gayness in the gene pool. I have a sister who lives in Bloomington. That was one reason I wanted to come to IU, so I can hang with her and my nieces. I’m adopted and she isn’t. She’s not going to catch lesbianism from me.” She laughed wryly.

  Wait. Adopted. Gears clicked in my brain until they aligned and a window on the truth popped open. Jo Schultz had given up a baby for adoption. And she was exactly who Zen reminded me of. “Did you ever try to find your birth mother?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.

  “Yes. After I turned twenty-one. But I didn’t have any luck, and I dropped it. Mine was a happy childhood, at least until high school when I realized I was gay. I’m lucky to still have both parents alive and well despite them being homophobic. They live up in Fort Wayne. I don’t feel the need to trace my roots anymore.”

  Chapter 46

  As I drove away from Zen’s, I called Lou, who didn’t pick up, and let her know I was leaving Zen’s and I was fine. I was on my way to Adele’s farm where Phil was dog- and house-sitting. He’d called and said his car wouldn’t start but he had desserts to deliver. As I drove, I thought about the odds of Jo’s birth daughter, if that was who Zen was, living so close to Jo. I wished I could tell her, but if Zen didn’t want to trace her roots, that was her decision. And I wished I could talk it over with Adele.

  I gave a couple little beeps of the van’s horn to let Phil know I’d arrived, and a minute later I stood in the cheery warm kitchen. When Adele was home, it invariably smelled of fresh bread. Today the enticing aroma was of Phil’s famous Kahlua brownies. Two wide trays of them sat wrapped and waiting on the kitchen counter next to a tray of peanut butter cookies. Adele’s border collie Sloopy snoozed on his bed in the corner of the room.

  “Thanks for coming out here, Robbie,” Phil said.

  “Not a problem. What’s wrong with the car?”

  “I don’t know. I’m so not mechanically inclined. Triple A is coming out in an hour. I only hope it isn’t expensive.” He glanced at the trays. “But at least you’ll have your desserts.”

  “Which my customers love, as you know.”

  “I know. Hey, sit down. Get you a beer?” He gestured at the table.

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Everybody was plying me with alcohol these days.

  “I’m going to have one. Soda instead?”

  “Just a glass of water.”

  He brought over a board with a small log of chèvre, plus a hunk of cheddar and a small brick of a rich yellowy-orange. “That one’s double Gloucester. To die for.” He added a plate of thin baguette slices before bringing over a bottle of beer. “Here’s to spring!”

  “To spring.” I clinked my glass with his bottle and took a sip. “Can you get to work tomorrow if they have to tow your car?”

  “A friend said she’d pick me up if I’m still stranded.” He popped a slice of cheddar into his mouth. “My cousin is using Grandpa’s car until he and Adele get back, and my folks are on a trip.”

  “Phil, you grew up around here. Do you know Jo Schultz?”

  “The former owner of your store? I don’t know her well, but she always seemed like a nice lady. Not sure how her grandson Ron turned out to be such a dweeb.”

  “What do you mean by dweeb?”

  Phil twisted his mouth. “He’s a slob and a gamer. It’s like that’s his whole life. Really? A person who doesn’t work, doesn’t want to travel, doesn’t have ambitions? I don’t get it.”

  “Pretty much what Danna said, too. The detective was in the store earlier asking about Ron. Maybe she thinks he’s a suspect in the murder. Jo told me Charles was psychologically abusive to both Ron and his mother.”

  “That guy was abusive to everyone he met.”

  Seemed to be a universally held belief. He must have been a good father, at least for a while, or Ron wouldn’t have been grieving for him that day outside Jo’s house.

  “Surely Charles had some redeeming traits?”

  “If he did, I never saw them. Who else are they looking into for the killing, do you know?” Phil asked.

  “I know that Octavia is investigating my friend Lou, which is ridiculous. And Georgia from the library, also unlikely, if you ask me.”

  “Ms. LaRue? She’s cool. She helped me with a research paper when I was in high school.”

  “Octavia has also been questioning Zen Brown, who was Charles’s department chair. In fact, I just came from Zen’s house.”

  “Zen? So she’s like a Buddhist?”

  “No, her full name is Zenobia, but she tells people to call her Zen.”

  “Dude, that’s a name on par with mine, like the opening to a bad joke. Philostrate and Zenobia walk into a bar . . .” He grinned, then knit his curly black eyebrows together. “But was that safe? To go hang out with a murder suspect?”

  “Seemed safe enough. She wanted me to check out a bike she’s using in a triathlon.” I looked at him. He was one of my best friends. I could trust him. “The funny thing is, I think she’s Jo Schultz’s daughter.”

  He swallowed a swig of beer. “No, that’s Maude. Ron’s mom.”

  “Jo told me she’d given up a baby for adoption when she was a teenager. I realized she and Zen look a lot alike. Same eyes, same build. And Zen told me she was adopted.”

  Phil whistled. “Did you tell this Zen person what you thought?”

  “No, and please don’t tell anyone. Zen said she didn’t feel the need to search for her birth mother at this stage of her life. Who am I to disturb that peace?”

  Chapter 47

  By the time I got home with the trays of desserts, I was full of delicious cheese and bread, which was perfect since the six-thirty on the van’s dashboard clock read dinnertime. I aimed the headlights at the new lock on the barn and got out to check it. Whew. It was still locked tight and looked intact. Worth every pretty penny I’d paid the locksmith.

  After I put away the desserts, the first thing I did was check upstairs. What a relief that all seemed secure. I fed Birdy and threw a load of restaurant laundry—cloth napkins, dish towels, aprons—into the washing machine in my back hall. I headed back into the restaurant, leaving the door from my apartment open. I smiled to myself as I got out ingredients for a double batch of biscuits. I could prep for the morning as well as for Saturday, since tomorrow night I’d be happily ensconced with Abe in a secluded cabin somewhere. What a sweet idea to invite me. My face heated up at the prospect of a night’s worth of intimacy mixed in with the other sweet stuff.

  Birdy ambled in behind me and hopped up on the desk chair to bathe. He ended up snoozing curled up with his feet in the air. I was cutting butter into
flour when my cell buzzed from my back pocket. I wiped off my hands and extracted the phone.

  Danna had texted. Got info about Ron. Time to talk?

  Instead of texting back, I called her. “So you found out something?” I asked after we exchanged greetings.

  “Yeah. I was right. When I took Jacob those pastries, he was so ready to talk. Get this. He said Ron is on probation.”

  “Really? For what?”

  “Jacob wasn’t quite sure, but he thinks it was for road rage. One condition is that Ron isn’t supposed to play violent video games.”

  Aha. “And that’s what he was doing Friday night, probably well into the morning.”

  “You got it.” Danna sounded positively delighted. “Until like eleven Saturday morning, their little group was at Jacob’s playing one of the worst games for knocking people off.”

  “Funny. Maude said he was out ice fishing.”

  “I don’t know. I’d tend to believe Jacob. He’s too much of a nerd to lie.”

  “I suppose Ron didn’t tell the detective because he was violating his probation,” I said.

  “Exactly.”

  “I have to tell the police Ron was lying about seeing Lou on the lake that morning. Think Jacob would tell them the truth?”

  “Unlike the other ones, he’s a good student and is actually taking his college classes seriously. So yeah, I’d say he would tell the truth if asked directly.”

  “Thanks for helping out, Danna. What’s Jacob’s last name?”

  “Brunelle.”

  “I’ll let Octavia know. See you in the morning?”

  “Of course. Chill, Robbie.”

  “You, too.” We disconnected and I stared at the phone for a minute. Call Octavia? Nah. She might think it was an emergency. I tapped out a text to her, instead. Learned Ron Stilton lied. He couldn’t have seen Lou near ice fishing hole. Call me if you want more info.