by J. R. Ripley
It wouldn’t take me long to drive to Truckee’s. “Do you think they’ll be there long?”
“They only just now got their waters and haven’t even ordered their meals. If you hurry, you can catch them.”
“Thanks, Martha. And tell Tuff thanks, too.” She said she would.
“I have to go out, Esther.”
“So I hear.” Esther stuck her pencil behind her ear. “You leaving me in charge?”
“I guess so.” I hadn’t seen Mom around. That left Esther.
Esther nodded. “It seems to me what with everything I have to do around here and all these responsibilities, I ought to be assistant manager by now.”
I was taken aback. “Assistant manager? I’m not sure we need an assistant manager.” I didn’t have that large a staff. Plus, Esther had only been working at Birds & Bees for a very short time.
“I’ll need my own key, too.”
I could see that Esther was only going to hear what she wanted at the moment, and I had somewhere to be. “I’ll give it some thought.” I headed through the back to my van. “We’ll talk later!”
* * *
I drove as quickly as I dared to Truckee’s Road Stop. I snagged a spot close to the restaurant, and killed the engine, and marched inside. Sure enough, Cara Siskin and Violet Wilcox occupied a table near the center of the room. A third woman sat at the table with them. Her back was to me. Martha hadn’t mentioned anything about a third woman.
I headed straight for the group, pausing only to wave to Martha.
“Good morning.”
The third woman turned her head. “You? Are you following me?” It was Alice Duvall. A short stack of pancakes rested on a plate in front of her.
“So much for being in a hurry to fix your lunch, I see. Going to breakfast first makes much more sense this time of day.” I pulled up a chair. “So what are we talking about?”
I looked at each woman in turn. Each woman gave me an ugly look. “What? Am I interrupting something?”
“This is a private business meeting, Ms. Simms,” Cara Siskin snapped. She shoved a plate of eggs across the table. It banged against her water glass, sloshing ice water over the tabletop. “I, we would all appreciate it if you’d leave.” She clutched her butter knife so hard her fingers were turning white.
I started to smile. “Which one of you murdered Mason?” I turned to Cara. “Was it you?” I looked across the table. “Or was it you, Ms. Wilcox?”
Violet made a face. “You’re crazy. Why would any of us kill Livingston?” She must have been watching her weight. She had nothing but a small bowl of oatmeal with strawberry slices.
Alice Duvall had thus far remained mum, choosing to sip a cup of hot tea rather than join the conversation. Finally, she spoke. “Nobody here killed anybody, Ms. Simms. Like I told you before, Pack Mulligan killed Mason, and he killed my Frank. If I thought anybody at this table was a murderer, do you think I’d be here?”
I stared hard at Alice Duvall. She might be a lot of things, but I didn’t think she’d be the type to intentionally consort with a murderer, especially since whoever had murdered Mason had very likely been responsible for her husband’s death as well. By all accounts, she had loved Frank.
“Did either of you give Frank the ten thousand dollars that was found on him?” I asked, turning to Cara Siskin and Violet Wilcox.
“Where would I get ten grand?” huffed Violet. “The station barely pays its bills as it is.”
“Well, I certainly didn’t.” Cara wiped her brow with a paper napkin. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind?” She motioned toward the door with her hand. “We are trying to conduct our business here.”
I noticed she had dropped the butter knife, and I couldn’t help feeling relieved. I pushed back my chair but kept my butt planted. “What kind of business exactly? What do a flower farmer, a radio station owner, and a book publicist have in common?”
The three women looked at one another. Cara and Violet shrugged simultaneously, but it was Violet who spoke. “If you must know, the three of us are trying to figure out a way to proceed with Alice’s Hummingbird Heaven.”
“The flower Frank developed?”
“That’s right,” Cara said. “Just because Frank and Mason are dead doesn’t mean we shouldn’t proceed. I have a lot of contacts in the business. Violet runs a radio station and has a lot of promotion and marketing ideas.” She played with a corner of toast on her plate. “As do I.”
“And Alice here owns the flower.”
Alice nodded. “Frank wouldn’t have wanted me to give up. He had big plans. I think, with Ms. Siskin and Ms. Wilcox’s help, that we might just be able to make Frank proud.”
I closed my eyes and sighed before standing. “I’m sorry for interrupting.” I patted Alice Duvall’s shoulder. “Once again, I am so sorry for your loss.”
I left the diner in a daze, my thoughts more muddled than ever.
I thought I had been close to solving two murders and had reached a dead end.
* * *
I returned to Birds & Bees. After putting the eggs away, I spotted Mom stepping off the public bus across the street. I ran over to help her, and we crossed back to the Birds & Bees side of the street together.
“Buy anything interesting?”
Mom pulled a colorful silk scarf from a small bag. “This. It was on sale.”
I ran my fingers along the soft fabric. “It’s beautiful. I’m surprised the shops were open this early.”
“It was a lovely little boutique operating out of a tent at the farmers market. You should visit it sometime. The woman running it has some very nice things.”
“I’ll do that.” I still wanted to check out that jewelry dealer.
“I stopped at Bookarama while I was in town.”
“You did?”
“Yes. The store wasn’t open, but I ran into Rose shopping for produce at the farmers’ market. She looked so wan. The poor dear.”
“You talked to her?”
“Yes, we had a little chat.”
“That’s great. I’ve been worried about them.”
“She did admit that she felt like everybody’s eyes were on her. It made her uncomfortable.”
“Was Amber there, too?”
“No, Rose said Amber was off on some errands.” We climbed the porch steps and sat in the rockers. I saw Esther inside helping a couple of ladies but figured she had things covered. If she needed assistance, she knew where to find us. Kim wouldn’t be in until afternoon. “I ran into Derek, too. He was returning from Jessamine’s Kitchen across the square.”
“Was he able to get all the feathers out of his clothing?”
Mom laughed softly. “He told me all about the two of you dealing with the eggs this morning.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “At least I got a dozen fresh eggs for my trouble.” I explained that I’d put them in the fridge. “I hope Pack gets released soon. I don’t see myself making a habit of caring for chickens.”
Mom reach across and patted my leg. “You won’t have to worry about that. Derek said Pack has been released.”
“He has?”
Mom nodded.
“Wow, that was fast.”
“Derek and that other lawyer from Raleigh were able to get the judge to release him on bail. Derek says all the evidence the police have is circumstantial at best.” Mom placed her scarf carefully back in the shopping bag. “Did you see Alice Duvall?”
“Yes. I gave her your condolences. And the cupcakes.”
“I hope she’s holding up all right.”
“She’s shaken up, but I think she’ll be okay.” I stood. “That reminds me.”
“What is it?”
“I need to check something. I’ll be right back.”
Mom nodded, and I ran inside and hurried up to the apartment. I grabbed my laptop from the bedroom and returned to the front porch. I sat down and booted up.
“What are you up to?”
“I saw a pair
of chinaberry trees out at Pack’s farm this morning. Birds love the berries, but I seem to remember they are poisonous to people.”
“They most certainly are,” said Mom. “Your grandmother had one in her yard. Don’t you remember?”
I said I didn’t, but it must have been buried somewhere deep in my subconscious.
“As a girl, she always warned me not to eat the fruit. Very dangerous, she said.” Mom slipped off her shoes and massaged her feet. “She used to give Nicky a berry or two. She said any more and he’d be hammered.”
I keyed in “chinaberry tree” as my mother reminisced. “You’re right. It says here that the fruit is poisonous, even deadly, to humans.” I sucked in a breath. “And it contains tetranortriterpenes.” I tripped over the syllables. It was a mouthful. No pun intended.
“What’s that?”
“That,” I said, folding the cover down on the laptop, “is the poison that killed Frank Duvall.”
Mom pushed her brows together. “And you say you found a tree like that at Pack Mulligan’s house?”
“Two of them.” I held up two fingers.
Mom rocked back and forth. “That’s not going to look good for him.”
“No. It’s not.” I settled the laptop on the small wrought iron table between us. “I wonder where Pack is now. Do you suppose he’s home, or is he with Derek and his other lawyer?”
“Derek said he had to go back to Charlotte to assist Ben with that case they’re handling. I’m not certain where the other attorney is at the moment. He could be halfway to Raleigh.”
Mom ran a hand through her hair. “Derek said Amber had picked Pack up from jail and offered to give him a lift. I’m sure he wants to get back to his chickens.”
“Amber? Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”
“I don’t know. Should it?”
I thought hard. Something wasn’t adding up.
“Speaking of Amber.” Mom folded her hands in her lap. “There’s something else that I learned. Actually, it concerns your friend, Professor Livingston, too.”
I looked at my mother. She looked so serious. “What is it?”
“You aren’t going to like it.”
“Mom,” I replied, struggling to maintain my patience. “I already don’t like it. Spit it out. I can take it.” Nonetheless, I mentally braced myself.
“Derek told me that the police have found a link between Amber and Professor Livingston.”
“You mean that she once took a class with him for like two seconds?” I waved a hand dismissively. “I know all about that.”
“Did you know that there have been allegations made that Professor Livingston made untoward advances toward some of his students?”
I bristled. “I don’t believe it.” I knew Mason liked the ladies, but I couldn’t picture him as a sleaze.
“It’s true,” Mom said. “He’d been facing similar charges in Texas.” My sigh carried across the yard. “I hate to believe it is even possible.” First I’d heard allegations of the professor resorting to plagiarism, then I’d heard murmurings that he was having trouble in Texas, a messy divorce and other problems. Jerry had hinted at something to that effect himself. Who else had told me about Mason’s obscure troubles in Texas? Had it been Violet Wilcox, Cara Siskin, or both?
I watched two hummingbirds fight for sole possession of one of my hanging hummingbird feeders. There were at least four other feeders sitting birdless, yet they insisted on fighting over the one. “But it would explain Amber’s actions toward him, wouldn’t it? Putting laxatives in his chocolates . . .”
“Egging his birdhouse camper.” Mom slipped her shoes back over her feet. “It would explain why Amber dropped out of his class so quickly.”
“Yes. But does it make her a murderer?” She dropped out of college soon after and was living above her mother’s bookstore. Had she grown bitter? Would she commit murder? And how?
“I can’t see how. She was at the lake,” Mom said.
“True, she has an alibi. . . of sorts. The cameras at the Lakeside Market could be wrong. Their internal clocks could be off. It wouldn’t need to be by much in order to have given Amber time to thrust a pair of scissors in Mason’s neck.”
“You might mention that to the police. They may not have considered that. I hate to think of Amber as a killer though, Amy. She’s so sweet.”
I rocked faster and faster as thought after thought raced through my mind like hummingbirds zipping through air. I felt like all of the pieces were there. I just wasn’t putting them together right.
Until suddenly, everything became clear.
Sort of.
I jumped to my feet. The rocking chair clattered against the house.
“Amy! What’s gotten into you? You look like you’ve just been stung by a bee!”
I grinned. “A mason bee maybe.”
I rushed for the door.
“Where are you going?” shouted Mom.
“I think I know who the killer is!”
I threw open the door.
“But where are you going?”
I spun around to address her. “To the bookstore. I need to check something first!”
“But—”
“Tell Jerry!”
29
I couldn’t wait for Mom to finish. I had a feeling that Pack Mulligan might be in danger—maybe of being poisoned like Frank Duvall, the man he was accused of poisoning.
I was certain that somebody was trying to set him up for two murders: Frank Duvall and Mason Livingston.
And if I was right, I’d have the answer to who very shortly.
I raced through Birds & Bees, paying no mind to Esther and our nonplussed customers, cut through the storeroom to my van out back, started the engine, and sped toward the town square.
Knowing Derek and Ben were out of town, I parked in Derek’s reserved space behind Harlan and Harlan and hoofed it to Bookarama. The store was dark except for the outside light spilling in. I tried the door. It was locked.
I rapped on the glass with my knuckles. After several moments, a light went on toward the rear, and a shape appeared in the hallway. It was Rose Smith.
I waved. “Hi, Rose!” I called through the glass separating us. “I heard you were open.”
Rose approached, dressed in dark slacks and a loose white top. She turned the thumb lock from the inside. “We are. But not this early. I was just bringing some books in from the back.”
“Do you mind if I come in?”
“I guess not. What’s up?”
I entered, and she relocked the door behind us. “Is Amber around?” The bookstore had been put back in order. All the folding chairs and the signing table had been put away or returned to their usual places. Everything was neatly arranged.
“Amber?” Rose blinked at me.
“Yes, I’d like to talk to her, Rose.”
“She’s fragile. I think it would be best to leave her alone, Amy.”
“Of course.” I smiled warmly. “I understand. Actually, the real reason I came was to pick up my books.”
“Your books?”
“Yes, you remember. The books Derek bought, three copies of Hummingbirds and Their Habits. Jerry, Chief Kennedy, said he gave them back to you.”
Rose was silent a moment as her eyes scanned the store. “Yes. I put them behind the counter.” She blinked at me. “I’ll get them for you.”
“Thanks. You don’t mind if I take a look around the shelves while you do, do you?”
“Go right ahead.”
I turned down the romance aisle. “I imagine you heard that Packard Mulligan was arrested on suspicion of murder for the death of Frank Duvall.”
“Yes,” Rose called from the other end of the store. “I heard that.”
“The police also think he murdered Professor Livingston.” I grabbed a new paperback. A darkly tanned hunk holding a lariat in his fingers graced the cover. I idly flipped the pages.
“That’s terrible.”
I gl
anced at Rose from across the store. There were several rows of shelves between us. “Why did you tell me you had done it? I thought you’d gone mad!” I smiled.
Rose shook her head. “I thought it was Amber. It was stupid of me. I realize that.”
“I understand. You love her. You wanted to protect her.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Frank’s widow, Alice, thinks Pack killed the professor to keep Frank Duvall from going into business with him. Plus, Pack and Frank had been feuding with each other for years.”
Rose stroked her chin. “I didn’t know that. I don’t know Pack very well. He’s a simple man.” She stepped out from behind the counter carrying my three copies of Mason’s book. She set them on top of a book display near the front door. “Has Pack said why?”
“Why he murdered two men?” I replaced the paperback and chose another. This cover featured a shirtless motorcycle rider, also tan. He gripped the handlebars and stared at me menacingly with his bulging biceps and hard abs. “As far as I know, he hasn’t admitted to anything.”
I stood on tiptoes and looked across the store. “Are you sure Amber hasn’t come in?”
“I’m sure.”
“I was told she was giving Pack a ride home.”
“Now that you mention it, I believe she did.”
“How did she know?”
“Know what?”
“That he needed a ride home?”
“He called her on her cell and asked for a ride back to his farm.”
“So they were friends?”
“I wouldn’t say that. She’s house-sat for him a few times to earn a few extra dollars.”
I was reminded of the Western romance novel I’d found at Pack’s house. The cover of the book had been torn off. I read the first few pages of the novel in my hand and felt myself blushing. I quickly put it back on the shelf.
Rose picked up my books and brought them to me. “Here are your books. I hate to kick you out, but I really should be getting the store ready, and I do have new books to unpack and shelve.”
“Thanks.” I took the books from her. I noted the Bookarama stickers on back showing they’d been purchased. Rose moved away, and I followed her to the front of the store.
She slipped behind the counter and opened the cash register. “Is there something else?”
