I tapped my arm. “He took off the gauze and replaced it with two bandages. Maybe a wound from an angry woman yielding a hoe? I think Beverly caught Daryl smashing her prize pumpkin and a fight ensued. That was my original reason for coming over here until I saw Featherton’s truck at the diner and wondered if he was eating ketchup.”
Detective Briggs smiled and shook his head. “When I saw you, I was going to ask what was new since I’d been out of town.”
“Where have you been anyhow? We’ve got a murder case to solve.”
“I haven’t forgotten about poor Beverly Kent. It’s just other crimes do take place outside of Port Danby. I was in Mayfield testifying in a case I worked on last month. Is there anything else?”
I laughed. “How long do you have?”
“I’m just on my way out to Beverly’s farm to have a look around. Would you like to join me? Then you can fill me in on everything else.”
“Why, I thought you’d never ask.”
Detective Briggs opened the passenger door and I climbed inside. He leaned down. “And before you ask—we’re not putting on the siren.” He shut the door.
There was a nice blue and green necktie draped over the console. It had one of those permanent knots that had been pushed down for easy removal.
Detective Briggs sat behind the wheel. I lifted the tie. “I see you’re one of those men who prefers to leave his tie knotted and ready to wear. I’ll bet you look very nice in a tie.”
He took the tie from my hand and tossed it onto the backseat. “They require it in the courthouse. And yes, I leave it knotted. Saves me about an hour of frustration trying to get the thing tied right. I swear my dad used to do it one handed while he brushed his teeth, but I can’t do it even with a diagram pasted to the bathroom mirror.”
I looked over at him. “It takes a brave, confident man to admit that.”
His laugh was low and deep like his voice. Briggs pulled out onto Harbor Lane and turned the corner along Pickford Way. “Theresa’s alibi checked out, by the way. She was at the dentist.”
“I’ve forgotten all about Theresa. I still think the whole murder is tied to the pumpkin contest. It’s seems farfetched that a woman could be killed for growing an enormous orange squash, but while you were busy in Mayfield, I was busy here in Port Danby. I went to see my least favorite person, Mayor Price. Of course he wouldn’t see me because I didn’t have an appointment.”
“Why would you go to see Mayor Price?”
“Dash mentioned that Mayor Price and Helen Voight, a neighbor on Loveland Terrace, are the judges for the pumpkin contest.”
“Dash told you, eh?”
“Yes.” I looked over at him. Just hearing the name Dash seemed to make his mood sour. “Anyhow, I didn’t get to see the mayor, but while his assistant was in his office, I took the liberty to snoop around.”
Briggs shook his head. “You’ve got to stop doing that, Lacey. You’re going to get into trouble.”
I ignored the warning because I was too shocked to hear him say my name.
He took my stunned silence as anger. “Someone will catch you rifling through their stuff and—”
“You called me Lacey.”
He paused. “Did I? Sorry.”
“No, I like the way you say it. Hey, since we’re kind of partnering up, maybe you could call me that all the time and I could call you James.”
“Nope. Keep going. You were snooping and …”
“The mayor’s assistant, Ms. Simpson, is as neat and organized as she is unfriendly. I fingered through the papers in her finished work basket. The papers were all in order, earlier dates at the bottom. On top was yesterday’s memo letting the city council members know that despite the tragedy, the contest was not cancelled. Farther down in the stack, below the date of Beverly’s untimely death, was a nicely printed sheet of vellum. It was the first place certificate for the pumpkin contest. And Virginia’s name was already printed on it.”
Briggs’ face snapped my direction. “Really? You’re sure it was for the pumpkin contest?”
“Unless there are some other contests I don’t know about, it was for the Port Danby Pumpkin Contest. Weird, right?”
“I’d say so. Obviously, someone had fixed the contest. I guess I better talk to the mayor.”
“Yes indeed. But don’t tell him I was snooping. He already doesn’t trust me and my million dollar nose.”
Briggs parked in front of Beverly’s farm. “Mayor Price is not the most open minded individual in the world, but for what it’s worth, I trust you and your million dollar nose implicitly.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s why I need to question Franki and find out if Featherton was in the diner the morning of Beverly’s murder. Now let’s see if we missed anything out in that pumpkin patch.”
Chapter 35
Detective Briggs and I pushed dirt and leaves around, not certain what we were looking for. A big, sprawling pumpkin patch was not an easy place to find evidence. Beverly’s gigantic pumpkin had become food for insects and any bird willing to cross paths with the Regency dressed scarecrow. The outer shell had become soft and mushy. I pressed on it, and it collapsed even more.
“I forgot about my pumpkin incident at the shop,” I said as I sifted around in the dirt, sniffing for anything that wasn’t a pumpkin plant or soil smell.
Briggs was walking around the perimeter of the fencing. “You had a pumpkin incident?”
“A potted plant fell off the counter and landed on the pumpkin I bought from the market. The pot shattered, but the pumpkin was left virtually untouched. It just made me realize how tough pumpkins were.”
Briggs stooped down and pushed aside a particularly thick tangle of vines and leaves. “They are tough. I don’t know about you, but as a kid I could have lost an eye a thousand times all in the pursuit of making the scariest jack-o’-lantern. Even broke one of my mom’s sharpest knives once.”
“See, proof that Beverly’s pumpkin had been destroyed long before her head ended up inside of it.”
“Yes, I think that was already established.”
I walked over to the gate where I’d found the hoe. Maybe I’d missed something there. “Do you think someone killed her and then moved her over to the smashed pumpkin to make it look like she fell into it?”
“Seems that way.”
“Briggs, have they found out whose blood is on the hoe?”
He shook his head. “No matches in the criminal database, but that still leaves millions of possibilities.”
“But we know someone in Port Danby who was recently injured.”
Briggs looked up from his search through the vines. “Featherton.”
“Yes.”
“Sure wish I knew what was used to kill Beverly. The coroner said it was the edge of something very solid. But whatever it was, it doesn’t seem to be in the garden.”
I reached down and picked up a clump of dirt near the gate that had a few pumpkin seeds stuck in it. “Strange, I wonder how these seeds got here. Maybe someone dragged them here on the bottom of their shoe.” I straightened and as I did, I got a whiff of a metallic smell.
“Blood,” I said excitedly. “I smell blood.”
Briggs hurried over. “Where is it?”
I held up my hand. “Just a second.” I stooped back down and then slowly straightened. “Here at the top edge of the fence post. That’s where it’s most concentrated.”
Briggs lifted his sunglasses to get a closer look. “The splintery, coarse surface of the weathered post makes it hard to see any stain. I’ll get my swab kit from the car. Good work. That nose is small, but it sure comes in handy.”
I glanced from the post to the broken pumpkin. “I wonder if this was where she hit her head. Beverly caught someone destroying the pumpkin. She went after them with her garden hoe and got in one good swing before the person shoved her. She fell against the post and then the pumpkin destroyer realized she was dead. They decided to cover their p
umpkin destroying tracks at the same time and made it look as if she’d fallen into her pumpkin.”
“That’s a good scenario, Miss Pinkerton. Now we need evidence to connect the killer to the scene.” He walked back to his car.
I pushed my hair behind my ears as it kicked around in the breeze. As I turned to face the wind to keep the hair out of my face, I spotted Virginia Hopkins walking quickly across the yard. As she drew nearer, I could see that she was crying.
She tromped through the lantana and seemed to know exactly where to walk for the best footing. Her sobs rolled across the yard. I glanced back and was relieved to see Briggs returning with his evidence kit. He heard the loud sobs too and picked up his pace to catch up to where I was standing.
“Do you think we’re about to hear a confession of some sort? She wasn’t nearly this upset on the day we found Beverly.”
“Seems like it.” Briggs lowered his voice because Virginia was nearly at the gate.
“I did it,” she blurted between sobs and deep, shuddering breaths. “I did it.”
Detective Briggs stepped through the gate. “I need you to calm yourself and tell me exactly what you did.”
“I’ve been living with such terrible guilt. I can’t eat or sleep or even look out the window toward this farm.” She covered her face and her shoulders shuddered.
“Virginia, should I get you a glass of water?” I suggested.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t deserve water.” She thrust her hands out in front of her. “Cuff me and take me in. I’m guilty.”
“Mrs. Hopkins, I need you to tell me exactly what you did,” Detective Briggs said in a cool, smooth voice.
Virginia took another deep breath and let it out. “I cut the pumpkin from the vine. There. It’s out. I cut Beverly’s prize pumpkin from its vine.” She shook her hands in front of him. “Cuff me.”
Briggs shot me an amused look. “Mrs. Hopkins, that’s hardly a bad enough crime to warrant handcuffs or arrest.”
“But I did it hoping my pumpkin could pass it up. My pumpkin needed to win. He was counting on it. He was so mad when he heard that Beverly’s pumpkin was bigger.”
“He? Who are you talking about?” Briggs asked.
“Why, that awful Mr. Featherton. If my pumpkin didn’t win the contest, then his contract with the seed company would fall through. And now poor Beverly is dead.” She covered her face to sob again.
I walked over and put my arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get you inside for a glass of water. Detective Briggs has some work to do. Then I’m sure he’ll come in and talk to you some more.”
Chapter 36
I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt as we drove back to Harbor Lane. I sensed that Detective Briggs was holding in a laugh or some comment that contained the word rookie. And that’s exactly what I was. I’d never been part of a murder investigation. As the pieces started falling into place and we drew nearer to a suspect, nervous excitement swept over me. We were heading back to town and very likely closing in on a killer. It was ridiculous to be giddy, but I couldn’t help myself. And my mom was certain I’d get bored in Port Danby. That thought, along with the dizzy rush in my head, pushed out an involuntary and ill-timed laugh.
Briggs looked over at me. “Something funny?”
“No, sorry. Just thinking about my mom warning me I’d be bored in a small town.”
“Ah yes. Guess she didn’t see you as a super sleuth.”
“I suppose not. I’ll bet after Beverly saw the vine cut on her pumpkin she went to the farm supply store to rent the thingamabob to move her pumpkin some place safe.”
“The skid steer? Yes that’s what I think too. And she probably thought Featherton had cut the vine or put Virginia up to it. That’s why they argued at the nursery.”
“Exactly. Where to first?” I looked over at him with my best wide-eyed expectant face, hoping it would keep him from telling me I was done with the investigation at this point.
It seemed to work. He sighed in surrender. “First, I want to ask Franki if Featherton was in the diner the day of the murder. It’ll help connect him to the ketchup stain on her blouse. Then I’m heading to the mayor’s office to see what was up with the contest. After Virginia’s slightly hysterical confession, Featherton’s motive seems clear. He needed his hybrid pumpkin to win the contest to seal the deal with the seed distributor. Money and success are usually clear cut motives. I’m wondering if Featherton saw that Beverly’s pumpkin was going to win, and he decided to take the easier, less messy route first and bribe the judge.”
“Judges,” I added.
“Judges?”
“Yes, Helen Voight, remember? And I’ve already talked to her. Of course she had no idea of my intent when I strolled up to her house with a neighborly plate of cookies.”
“You made cookies?”
“I bake. I’m not just a walking million dollar nose. I have many talents.”
“I’ve noticed. Go on.”
“Helen was quite friendly and sweet but when I brought up the pumpkin contest, she made some excuse to end the chat. She said she wasn’t going to be a judge and then just about slammed her front door in my face.”
“Interesting.”
Briggs parked in front of the police station, and we walked across the street to the diner. Franki was filling coffee pots. She smiled when she saw Briggs and was more than a little surprised to see me standing next to him.
She walked over. “The usual, Detective Briggs?”
“No thanks, Franki. I’m here on business. Can you tell me whether or not Daryl Featherton was in the diner on Monday, the day of Beverly’s murder?”
“Oh, that’s easy. Daryl comes in here every Monday because he makes a delivery to a big garden store in Mayfield. He stops in for his usual steak and eggs whenever he’s heading through town.” She cast an inquisitive look my direction. I just smiled in return.
“Thank you, Franki.” I followed Briggs out.
“That’s a big deal, right?” I asked as I hurried to keep up with his fast strides.
“Could be.” We got back into his car.
“We could just walk,” I noted.
“Official business, remember?”
“You’re right. Wouldn’t be right to just stroll up to the mayor’s office during official business.”
We drove along Pickford Way and pulled up to the mayor’s office. I reached for the door handle. “Miss Pinkerton, I’m going inside alone.”
I sat back in disappointment. “Probably a good idea.”
“Glad you agree,” he said with just a twinge of sarcasm. He stepped out of the car and climbed the steps.
“If only I were a fly on the wall,” I mumbled to myself. I sat up sharply. “Or a citizen with a suggestion for the suggestion box.” I glanced around to make sure no one saw me step out of the detective’s car. The mayor’s office was far enough in the corner of town that there were rarely any cars or people around. I knew Briggs would scowl when he saw me, but I just couldn’t stop myself.
I opened the office door. I assumed Detective Briggs would be meeting the mayor inside his office, but the two men were standing in the reception area. Ms. Simpson wasn’t at her desk. It was possible she’d stepped out. The expected scowl came my way from Briggs, but I ignored it and both men as I walked confidently over to the suggestion box.
I picked up a piece of paper and stared at it, unsure of my suggestion.
“Could we talk in your office, Mayor Price?” Briggs shot me an annoyed sideways glance as the two men disappeared behind the closed door. I moved closer to the door to listen in, but it was just two deep voices mumbling behind a solid door. Seconds later, the mayor’s voice grew louder. He was angry.
“I don’t appreciate this line of questioning, James,” he snapped. “Yes, Featherton came to me hoping to arrange the contest, but I told him no. Helen was made so nervous by it all, she decided not to judge this year. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” The office door op
ened. “I have a lot to do.” Mayor Price followed Briggs out. His face grew red when he saw me still standing in the reception area.
I waved the suggestion paper in my hand. “Still thinking.” Then I did something stupid. I was, after all, a rookie. “Why is there a first place certificate printed for Virginia when the contest hasn’t even taken place?” The question shot out.
The red in the mayor’s face turned nearly purple. “Were you snooping around Ms. Simpson’s desk?”
Detective Briggs was shooting me a look that let me know he was almost as angry as the mayor. I deserved it.
“I—excuse me, but I saw a piece of vellum paper in the basket. It was exactly what I wanted for the flyers for my shop. I fingered through the stack just to touch it and feel the quality.” I was getting just a bit too good at lying, and it bothered me … a little. Besides, it was all in the name of solving a murder.
The color had still not washed from the mayor’s face as he marched over to the basket and reached inside. He pulled out the certificate with Virginia’s name. Then he slid it aside to reveal a second certificate with Beverly’s name. “It is always one of them, so we print the certificates up ahead of time to have them ready to hand out that day.”
“Yes, that makes sense.” My face was warm from an embarrassed blush. I placed the blank suggestion paper on the table and made my way to the door. If I’d had a tail, it would have been hanging down between my legs.
“Thank you for your time, Mayor Price,” Detective Briggs said. “I won’t—”
The front door opened just as I reached for it. Daryl Featherton walked in. He looked at Mayor Price and then his stunned face turned to Detective Briggs.
“Mr. Featherton,” Briggs spoke up. “I need to ask you a few—”
Featherton didn’t wait for him to finish. He spun around and shoved me out of the way. I fell back on my bottom as Detective Briggs raced after him. I pushed to my feet and smiled weakly at the mayor before running out of the office.
Detective Briggs had Featherton with his arm behind his back. He walked him to the car, reading him his rights.
Marigolds and Murder (Port Danby Cozy Mystery Book 1) Page 15
