But a contract was a contract. I’d have to see what Soapy wanted to do.
I wished I had work to do while I waited for my fate with Ben, but the next event in town wasn’t until Field Days at the high school in spring. I ambled into the front room and looked out the window. Fat, fluffy snowflakes drifted lazily down from the sky. The sun was shining, reflecting light off the frozen canal. A small group of searchers rambled along the opposite side in front of Read and ReRead still hoping to find Mike. They were led by Carl Finch who carried a tall, ornate walking stick, and knowing him and his predilection for religious relics, it might have once belonged to Moses or one of the prophets.
I hadn’t talked to my mom in a little over a week. As far as I knew she still talked to Carl, but their relationship wasn’t exclusive. She said it was because she just got divorced and anyway she lived two hours away from Carl. They were just having fun. When they were together though, they seemed totally enamored of one another. My parents’ divorce was still something I was letting sink in, so Mom dating was like aliens landing in my backyard. I did my best to act interested in her personal life and not let the thought of her dating upset me.
Dad told me he wasn’t interested in dating. He was enjoying the single life, traveling everywhere he’d always wanted to go that my mother didn’t want to. Like Egypt. He was currently enjoying the pyramids while smoking cigars, something else Mom never allowed him to do. Every now and then he texted me a selfie he’d taken, but
I could never see the background since his face took up the entire screen. I imagined he was somewhere amazing, though. I had to get Mia to teach him the fine art of taking selfies.
So it seemed they were both enjoying the single life.
Which brought me back to thoughts of my own predicament—Ben walking through the door and what he would say about me snooping at Clayton’s wake.
It was dark when I woke to the front door opening and the dogs taking off to find out who was home. I’d fallen asleep on the couch reading with Gus curled up at my feet, Liam dozing in the crook of my arm, and Colby and Jack in a pile of drooling, snoring fur on the floor beside me.
“Ben?” I called, sitting up.
“No,” Mia said. “And why haven’t you answered any of my texts?”
“I was asleep. What time is it?”
“Seven. Where’s Dad?” She stood in the archway between the foyer and front room, kicking her boots off her feet. Snow was flying all over the place. Gus was jumping around trying to catch it in his mouth.
“I don’t know. I thought he’d be home hours ago.”
I rubbed my eyes, disoriented, like I’d slept through an entire day. This morning seemed like it happened yesterday.
“Betty’s been trying to reach you,” she said. “Is your cell phone turned off or something?”
“No.”
“When was the last time you charged it?” She tilted her head and her eyebrows shot up, like she was the adult scolding the teenager for not answering her call.
“It might be dead,” I admitted. I always forgot to plug it in. Batteries shouldn’t have to be charged. I never had to plug in my TV remote and it ran on batteries. Of course, before we canceled our landline, I always hung up the cordless phone on the base to charge, so I guess it did make some kind of sense, but whatever. “What did Betty want?”
“How should I know? She just asked me why she couldn’t reach you. I figured she’d stop over.”
“It must not have been too important then.” I stood and stretched. “Did you have dinner?”
“I’m not hungry,” she said, turning and bolting up the stairs toward her bedroom with Liam at her heels bounding after her.
I wandered into the kitchen, wondering if Ben would be hungry when he got home. I took a pack of chicken from the freezer and tossed it in the microwave to defrost. He must’ve found something at Clayton’s house to be delayed getting home.
My wrist throbbed, so I dug through my bag for the prescription pain pills, chasing the rattling sound around the bottom. My hand wrapped around a flat, round container. I didn’t know what it was, but was certain it wasn’t the cylinder shape of a pill bottle. I finally found it, and taking it out, realized the child-proof cap was also Cameron-proof with my hand wrapped like a mummy and stuck in a sling. This was the first time I’d been without Monica or Ben since breaking my wrist.
“Mia?” I shouted. “Mia!”
The only reply was the faint beat of music straining down from her bedroom. She couldn’t hear me. I’d just wait for Ben to get home.
When the microwave beeped, I took the pack of chicken out, placed it on the counter, and cut the plastic wrap with a knife. Cooking one-handed would be difficult, but not impossible.
Who was I kidding? Cooking was difficult for me at the best of times. This was going to be a disaster.
I got a pan out and put it on the stove then poured some oil in it and turned the burner on. When I picked up a chicken breast, it was still frozen in the center and stuck to the one beside it, which was stuck to the one beside that, and so on. So I tried to shake them apart.
When that didn’t work, I tried to pry them apart by slipping a knife between them, but all I managed to do was slide the whole pack across the counter. So I picked them up again and tried shaking them apart again.
“Good gravy, come apart,” I muttered, getting more frustrated by the second, and shaking them harder and harder.
Ever the helpers, Colby and Jack began barking encouragement and jumping around my legs. “No,” I told them. “Stop. Go lay down.”
The smell of burning oil drew my attention back to the stove, where smoke was wafting out of the pan. Sensing my distraction, one of the cheese twins leapt up and snagged the chicken from my hand. The two thieves darted underneath the kitchen table and started a raucous game of tug-of-war with my dinner!
I flipped the burner off, but it was too late. The fire alarm started blaring in the hallway, sparking a chorus of barking from every corner of the house. Mia’s music got louder, and a couple seconds later she ran into the kitchen. “What’s going on?” she asked, frantic.
“I’m making dinner,” I shouted over all the noise, because that explained it all.
I opened a window and Mia opened the patio doors, waving her hands around to clear the air.
“I’m home!” I heard Ben yell from the front door. He strode into the kitchen like he wasn’t surprised at all to find me and Mia standing in a haze of smoke with the fire alarm going off. He opened the basement door and disappeared behind it, returning a minute later with the step ladder. We watched as he disabled the smoke detector, leaving only the sound of Mia’s music playing upstairs.
“Making dinner, Cam?” he asked with a smirk. “You shouldn’t have.”
The twins bolted out from under the table and lunged out the patio doors. Gus and Liam followed, hoping for a scrap of the chicken that was long gone.
“Cooking with one hand isn’t easy,” I said in my defense.
“You didn’t need to cook. I brought home Chinese food.” He picked up a bag he’d set on the table in the foyer and brought it into the kitchen. “I know you can’t cook with your arm in a sling. I’ll take care of that end of things.” He pulled me in for a hug and motioned for Mia to join us. “My crazy girls,” he said, kissing Mia on top of her head.
His easy acceptance of the chaos was unexpected. The Ben I used to live with would’ve reacted like a raging bull, coming home to this after a long, hard day at work. And why wasn’t he angry with me—or at least suspicious of my motives—for being at Clayton’s during the wake?
“Why don’t you go turn that music off and we’ll eat dinner?” he said to Mia. She skipped up the steps, and Ben turned to me. “How’s the wrist?”
“I can’t open my pill bottle,” I said, picking it up from the counter and handing it to
him. “Mind helping me out?”
“Not at all.” He twisted the top off. “Speaking of pill bottles,” he said, opening the cupboard door and taking out a glass. “You wouldn’t know anything about an anonymous call to the police instructing them to tell me that there was a bottle of blood pressure pills tucked between Clayton’s couch cushions right where you were sitting today, would you?”
He filled the glass with water and sat it on the counter beside me. I busied myself with swallowing the pain pill. Finally, I asked, “Were the pills what you were looking for?”
“They were one of the two brands of blood pressure pills in Clayton’s system at the time of his death. The pills I found in the couch were his. His doctor prescribed them.”
“Was his name on the bottle?” I asked. I’d never had a chance to look before shoving the bottle between the cushions.
“There was no label.”
“Where would he have gotten another kind then? And why would he be taking them?”
Ben shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Did you find the moonshine you were after?”
“No. I found some, but it ended up being a lower proof than what the toxicology report showed. It wasn’t the moonshine in his system when he died.”
“Mysterious pills and moonshine. Interesting.”
“What we do know is that the wheat flour isn’t what killed Clayton. Old Dan and Frank are being released. All of the other food in Clayton’s kitchen is being tested.”
“That’s a relief,” I said. “Dan and Frank will be happy to get home and back to work at the mill.”
The gate house would be empty again.
And Andy still wouldn’t have a job.
“Cam, I know you and Monica weren’t just being good neighbors by going over to Clayton’s today. You’re going to have to tell me what you were up to, but right now I just want to forget about all of it and have a relaxing dinner with you and Mia.”
Something else was going on. Ben never let his investigations go, not even after a hard day. He always brought work home with him.
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” I said. “What is it?”
He looked down at his hands, resting on the counter. “No, I won’t talk about this here. Not now. When I come home, I’m going to leave it all at the door. I told you things would change if I came back home.”
“I don’t want you to bury your feelings, though.” I reached out and took his hand. “You can talk to me. I know your job isn’t like going to an office and punching out at five o’clock.”
Ben looked up at me with haunted eyes.
“What happened?” I asked. “This isn’t about moonshine or blood pressure medication. Tell me.”
“I found something else stashed away under that couch, Cam.”
I felt my pulse begin to race. “What?”
“An ice pick.”
His words lingered in the air around us. It took my brain a minute to accept them and take hold. “No,” I whispered.
Ben nodded. “Jason Banks murdered David Dixon.”
• Ten •
Betty stood behind her bakery counter mixing ingredients in a huge bowl. “Lana called me all in a tizzy yesterday. She mentioned that you and Monica had been at Clayton’s house when Ben arrived with the search warrant. I tried to call you but couldn’t reach you.”
“My phone was dead,” I said, hoping she didn’t ask what we were doing at Clayton’s.
“I can’t believe Jason would kill David Dixon,” she said, breaking eggs into her bowl. “What reason would he have? David and Jason’s dad were good friends.”
“Well, Jason threatened me because I was going forward with the festival after Clayton’s death, and I barely even knew the man. Dixon was hosting the events and he was one of Clayton’s best friends. I can only imagine how angry that made Jason.”
“But angry enough to kill him? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Ben and Sheriff Reins will get to the bottom of it.”
“I hope they find Clayton’s killer while they’re at it. There’s no way Jason killed his father, and having two killers in Metamora at the same time is too frightening to think about. Cass and Judy are considering closing their inns for a while, and want me to go on a vacation with them to get away from here until all of this blows over. But they can’t afford to close their doors, and I know I can’t. A three-generation vacation does sound nice, though.”
“A vacation from the ice and snow as well as everything that’s going on would be wonderful.” I picked at a cranberry orange muffin Betty had given me with a cup of coffee, and swiveled on the stool beside her register. “Florida sounds perfect right now.”
“I spoke to Richard last night. He and Robin will be staying in town until this whole situation is solved. He offered us use of their house in Lexington while they’re here. It’s not Florida, but it’s a few degrees warmer at least.”
The door opened with a jingle of the bell attached to the top, and Roy sauntered in. “Morning, ladies,” he said.
“Morning, Roy.” Betty put down her mixing bowl and wiped her hands on her apron. “What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering what you do with the broken cookies, or your day-old items.”
“Reverend Stroup usually comes by and collects them for the soup kitchen. Why?”
“Oh, times are getting tough, that’s all,” he said, waving his hand like it was no big deal.
“Do you need food, Roy?” I asked. “I’ll take you to the grocery and get you some. You do so much for the Action Agency, it’s the least I can do for you.”
“No, no,” he said. “I’m getting by. I don’t need no charity.”
I nodded, knowing I’d talk to him about it privately later.
“I’ll let you ladies get back to your gabbing,” he said and turned to leave.
“Take a cookie, Roy.” Betty scooped a few warm ones off of a baking sheet and tucked them into a cellophane bag. “Hot from the oven.”
“I think I will, then,” he said. “They smell like Heaven.”
“Taste like it, too,” I said.
He held the bag up, nodded in thanks, and strode out the door.
“That was odd,” Betty said. “I know he gets retirement pay from the Army. It must not be much, but he’s never come in asking for day-old baked goods before.”
“I didn’t know Roy is an Army veteran. He doesn’t talk about himself to me.”
“He’s a war vet. He served in Vietnam and doesn’t talk about it ever. He came back and started drinking and that was that.”
It explained a lot about Roy. I wanted to do something for him, a gesture big enough to be a thank-you for his service. He’d never let me, so it would have to be anonymous.
“Anyway,” Betty said, resuming her mixing and our conversation. “Richard doesn’t know what to think about Jason’s arrest. Jason’s been nothing but hostile and volatile since he and Robin got here. Only one thing is for certain: Clayton and David got on someone’s bad side.”
“What about Starnes?” I asked. “Is he being released? Is he afraid he’s next? I mean, if the three of them were so close and two have been killed, it only stands to reason … ” I lifted my eyebrows, indicating where my thought process was headed.
“I think that’s why Lana is so frantic. She’d rather have him in jail where nobody can get to him, but he’ll be released now, just like Old Dan and Frank.”
“Betty,” I said, easing my way into my next question, “Lana had a bottle of what I think was moonshine yesterday in her handbag. When Ben showed up asking if Clayton had any in the house, she shoved it down in her bag, hiding it. Do you think that’s what Ben was looking for?”
Betty chuckled. “Probably, but he didn’t die from moonshine, I can tell you that much. He’d been
drinking moonshine made by Starnes for most of his life.”
“Starnes makes moonshine?”
“What do you think he was doing with that copper tubing when we were at their house the other day? Not fixing the furnace, that’s for sure. And Lana wasn’t making up a giant batch of corn bread in that enormous pot on the stove, either.”
“I didn’t think anything of it,” I said. “It wasn’t suspicious at all.”
“You didn’t grow up around it like I did. Everyone in the older generation around here made moonshine. They used to sell it at the grist mill right out in the open. Old Dan had it sitting on the counter next to the dime candy and peanuts.”
“It’s illegal, though,” I said, a niggling of an idea coming to mind. “Do you think David and Clayton threatened to out Starnes for making it? Does Starnes sell it, too?”
“Of course he does. How do you think they keep that wheat farm going? Farmers don’t make much money, Cam. But Clayton and David wouldn’t have any reason to expose Starnes’s moonshine business. He’s been doing it for years. Besides, they got free ’shine.”
“There has to be a reason someone would want them dead.”
“I can’t think of what it would be.” She sighed and set her wooden spoon down. “This used to be a nice, quiet town. Now we have to look over our shoulders and lock our doors. It’s not the Metamora I know.”
I wanted to tell her everything would be okay, but I wasn’t sure it was the truth. The town wasn’t what it once was. The whole world was changing, and it seemed to me that Metamora, unfortunately, was changing, too. For better or for worse.
When I needed to get my mind off of things, there was nothing better than taking a few monsters for a walk.
Gus took the lead, with Colby and Jack trailing behind, jumping around one another and tangling their leashes. Isobel only let Monica put a leash on her, so I left her home curled up with Liam napping beside the fridge.
Fatal Festival Days Page 10
