If Catfish Had Nine Lives (Country Cooking School Mystery)

by Paige Shelton

  “I think that tonight Vivienne was irritated when she saw your brother with Opie, and she probably said something snippy to him. He probably said something equally snippy. Perhaps Teddy led her on a little. Just perhaps, though. I can’t tell you if there was more than that going on—but I’ll work on it. None of the people attending the convention are safe from being under suspicion, for either the murder or the beating. I still don’t know if the two incidents are tied together, but we’ll get it figured out.”

  Cliff sat up and reached for the pitcher of iced tea that was behind us. It was late, but we were sitting on the steps of my small back porch, decompressing from the evening of cowboys, poets, actors, and ghosts. My conversation with Jake had been brief. I told him the details of what I’d heard and he listened. Then he excused himself, saying he was tired and wanted to go home. I offered to drive him but he declined.

  I had taken a moment to be sad that Jerome might really be gone, but I knew he’d be back again someday, and I thought that someday might be soon. I figured I could always step in front of a bus and see if he appeared to save the day, but considering that tonight he showed up after the gun was fired—well, I might not want to test my luck.

  The mysteries of Astin Reagal and Joe and his letters gnawed at me, but if I’d learned anything from Gram, it was that I should never, ever, ever count on the ghosts. Maybe their disappearance was just a lesson I needed to learn the hard way.

  Still, I didn’t like having more questions than answers.

  “Refill?” Cliff asked as the pitcher hovered above my glass.

  I nodded.

  “So, no more ideas at all about who killed Norman Bytheway?” I asked.

  “No. Jim called me earlier with a little more information about our victim, though. He was living in Kansas City. He was on his own. No wife, no ex-wife, no kids, no pets. Jim found his parents—or the police up there found them. They saw a news report and finally called. They were devastated, as expected, but apparently they hadn’t seen him in over a year. They didn’t go into detail as to the reasons why.”

  “Where are they living?”

  “In Kansas City.”

  “I can’t imagine living in the same town as my parents and not seeing them for that long. There must have been a problem.”

  Cliff nodded, and I noticed the light from the quarter moon move over his face. “There might have been. Jim got a hold of a detective in Kansas City who will work on getting the full story. Hopefully, we’ll know more soon.”

  “Does Jim think that knowing the reasons for Norman and his parents not talking might lead to his killer?” I said.

  “Anything’s possible at this point. We don’t have much else to work with right now.”

  “Norman had no past connections to anyone at the convention?” I said.

  “Not that we can find, but sometimes people don’t share the truth that easily. Unfortunately, these things don’t always move as quickly as you’d like them to move.”

  “Don’t Teddy’s beating and Norman’s murder have to be tied together somehow?”

  “No, not really. There are a lot of people in town, Betts. Lots can happen and none of it be related to anything else. We’re much more prepared for a crowd in the summer, and Jim thinks we didn’t staff up well enough for this group. None of us thought it would be this big. When you get a crowd like this you just never know. Jim admits we should have had a twenty-four-hour presence at the campsite from the beginning. We didn’t. If an officer had been around, perhaps whatever happened to Teddy wouldn’t have happened.”

  I grimaced. Hindsight and all.

  “Teddy will be fine, though. Unlike Norman,” I said.

  “True.”

  Cliff swirled his glass, causing the ice to clink as it cooled his tea.

  “Betts, I have to ask you a question,” he said after a pause I deemed way too dramatic.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” I said.

  Cliff laughed, but not with humor.

  “It’s not bad.”

  “Ask away.”

  “There’s something going on in your life that I don’t understand. Something I would like to have some details about.”

  “What do you mean?” I swallowed hard.

  Cliff looked at the glass in his hands before he turned his full attention in my direction. His face was in moon shadows, but I still knew his features were intense. I knew serious Cliff as well as I knew funny Cliff, playful Cliff, and even silly Cliff.

  “Betts, there’s a piece missing. From us. I’m either not picking up on something or you’re purposefully keeping something from me. I wish I could pinpoint what it is, but I can’t. I need you to tell me, Betts. If it’s me, I’m willing to fix it. If it’s you, I need to know if you’re willing to fix it. It’s important.”

  I sighed. “Cliff . . .”

  “One second, Betts. Let me finish. Tonight, I saw you and Miz over by the Express station after you told me you were running to the ladies’ room. You were standing side by side and looking at . . . well, it looked like you were both staring at something, but there was nothing there. When I saw you two, I was struck by how many moments since we’ve been back together that I feel like there’s something or someone in the room that I’m not seeing. That sounds crazy, I know, but it’s what I’m getting. Can you help me understand what’s going on? Maybe just tell me what was going on tonight.”

  I wanted to tell him about the ghosts. Frankly, I felt like I owed him that much. But more important than that, I was suddenly devastated that he thought we had a missing piece—and I knew I was the one responsible. I thought I’d been so smooth. I thought it had been okay to have a crush on a dead ghost, because how harmful could that possibly be?

  I was so stupid. Just because Jerome was dead didn’t mean it was okay to have a crush on him. Because any crush I had on anyone, dead or alive, diluted my feelings for Cliff, even if I hadn’t meant for it to. If I wasn’t willing to give him my one hundred percent, I didn’t deserve his one hundred percent. Jake’s voice sounded in my head as I thought those thoughts.

  I was so, so stupid. (That might have been Gram’s voice).

  Now was the moment to spill the beans. It was late. It was a beautiful night. It was dark; I could use the darkness to hide and he could use the darkness to process the wild and weird story I wanted to tell.

  There was only one thing holding me back. It was Cliff. He was solid, logical, real. He’d never even liked to read books that had a tinge of something otherworldly or fanciful. It was one of the reasons I loved him so much.

  I thought hard about the words I wanted to say.

  “Cliff, there is something, but it’s not something that can ever come between us. It’s been a distraction for me, but I’m ready to work through it and do better. The missing piece is all on me. It’s something that’s hard to believe and at first had more to do with Gram than with me. But I’m involved now, too. It’s nothing bad. It’s just very weird.”

  “Weird how?”

  “Weird, unreal. I have an idea. Before you ask any more questions, take a day, a few days, and think about whether or not you want to know.” My mouth was so dry. I took another drink. “Cliff, I’ll tell you if you really want to know, but you need to trust me on this part—you might not want to. Honestly.”

  Cliff looked up absently to the sky. I watched his profile as he considered my warning. For an instant I thought I saw the boy he’d been in high school, and my heart mushed a little. Oh, geez, I was so stupid. I saw his signature half smile, the shadow of his dimple pulling, before he turned and looked at me.

  “Really weird?” he asked.

  “The weirdest,” I said.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  If nothing else, maybe now he could be relieved that whatever he’d been picking up on wasn’t a product of his imagination. I knew the feeling.

  “I’m crazy about you, you know,” I said.

  “I know,” Cliff said. “You’
d better be. We’ve got lots ahead of us, Betts. Lots.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” I said.

  And I truly was.

  Chapter 24

  The next morning, right before six, I was awakened by a text. Cliff, still feeling like he needed to stop by the jail and confirm there was nothing he was missing regarding the cases he and the other officers were working on, didn’t stay the night. He hadn’t left because I hadn’t told him about my distraction; just the fact that I confirmed there was one was enough to ease the waters. If he truly wanted me to share the ghostly details, there might be other issues ahead, but I decided I could only worry about that when and if it happened.

  The early text I received from him said: Crime scene tech from St. Louis here. Do you want to come watch her work?

  I texted him back that I’d be there quickly. I remembered Cliff mentioning that Jim had planned on calling in someone from St. Louis, but I was surprised that I’d been invited to attend.

  I hurried out the door without even one longing glance at my coffee machine. I’d stop by Bunny’s later.

  It didn’t take long to return to the scene of the crime. My drive to downtown could be as short as three minutes or as long as about four and a half; today, it was on the shorter side.

  I parked on a side street and walked quickly to the end of Main. I easily spotted Jim, Cliff, a couple other officers, the fire marshal, Evan, and a group of four people I didn’t know. The group was made up of three men and one woman, all of whom wore matching blue zip-up jackets. The woman was undeniably in charge—of everyone and everything. I didn’t think anyone noticed my arrival, and I decided it was best that I stay back and out of the way, so I skirted around the edge of the activity and then stopped close enough to hear what was going on but hopefully still be unobtrusive. Evan, who’d been back a bit from the group, stepped back farther and stood next to me. We smiled and mouthed quick and silent hellos to each other. The woman held on to the arms of one man and moved him to the place where I knew Norman had been standing when he was shot.

  “Okay, Cliff, sweetie,” she said. “This is where I believe the victim went down, is that correct?”

  I took a double-take at her deeply Southern and extra friendly tone. Even though she wore jeans and the drab blue zip-up jacket, she was very pretty. And also young. She might have been my age, but I guessed a couple years younger. Her black, chin-length hair was held back by a bright pink headband and her big blue eyes were both lovely and intelligent.

  Cliff looked at some notes and pictures he held. “Yes. That’s the spot, Amy.”

  “Good. Okay, lie down. No, about three feet back,” she said to the man whose arms she held. “Good. Now, I’m going to put you into the position that the victim was found in.” She pulled a picture out of her own pocket and showed it to the young man on the ground.

  He maneuvered his body to look like the one in the picture, who I assumed was Norman. I hoped I wouldn’t ever see the picture.

  “That’s right,” Amy said as she crouched. “Now, just move your leg a teensy bit this way. Good.”

  Amy stood and then plopped one hand on her hip as she confirmed that the man in the picture and the man on the ground were both in identical poses.

  “Now, Cliffy, when I looked at the body this morning, your ME and I did some trajectory calculations. Grant is the victim after he was shot. Billy,” she grabbed another man, “is the victim before he was shot,” Amy said.

  Cliffy? I crossed my arms in front of myself and brought my eyebrows together.

  “Okay,” Cliff said. He saw me out of the corner of his eye as he looked up from the papers in his hand. He smiled briefly and then turned his attention back to Amy.

  “Billy, I need you to stand right here. Yes, your feet will be away from Grant’s a bit.” Amy pulled out a tape measure and crouched again. She placed the bright yellow strip on the ground as Billy did exactly as she asked and Grant stayed in an uncomfortable, twisted position on the ground.

  Once again, Amy righted herself.

  “Now,” she said a little more loudly as she looked at the small crowd watching her every move, “this is where the bullet went into the body.” She placed her fingertip on Billy’s chest. “Based upon the calculations that we made this morning, we can assume—almost completely safely—that the shooter was no more than fifty yards back and was no more than five feet five inches high.”

  I leaned over and said to Evan, “Really? She can know that much?”

  “I think so,” Evan said, a little awe lining his voice.

  Amy pulled her hand away from Billy’s chest. “That puts your fairly short shooter back over there, in the spot in the street, in between that cookie place and the saloon.”

  “If I remember correctly, that’s the spot where the hanging platform sits for the cook-off, right?” Evan said to me.

  “One and the same. It’s where the town’s real hanging platform did its work back in the day. We do try to keep it authentic,” I said.

  “You think the killer was someone from Broken Rope and their location was somehow symbolic?” Evan said.

  “No, I don’t. Well, I hope not, Evan.”

  “Knowing the shooter’s size does narrow the suspect list,” Evan said. “I mean, of course there are men that height, but I imagine that Jim and Cliff will start to focus on more women, which would be a much easier task if we didn’t have so many visitors.”

  “True.”

  Jake was five feet six inches, but I hoped that his height challenge didn’t put him close to being on the suspect list.

  “Amy, how sure are you of all this?” Jim asked. He looked tired, but I’d seen him in worse condition. Still, I hoped the solution to the murder was close at hand.

  “Jim, I’m the best you can get. Isn’t that right, Cliff?” She smiled and winked at him.

  I didn’t even like thinking I might be jealous, so I decided to call what I was feeling curiosity. How did they know each other? How long had they known each other?

  “Amy’s the absolute best,” Cliff said sincerely.

  My lips twisted involuntarily.

  “It’s all based on measurements, Jim, you know that,” Amy said. “I just happen to be extra good at measuring.” She winked again, right at Cliff.

  Jim scratched his bald head and pushed up his glasses. He’d been a police officer long enough to both respect Amy’s abilities and remember to question everything, remember that even with measurements and precise crime scene investigations, anything at all is possible until you knew the exact truth and specifics.

  “It’ll be difficult to question everyone that’s close to five feet five inches tall, Amy. We have a bushel of visitors in town. Is there anything more you can tell us?” Jim asked.

  Amy tapped a finger on her pursed lips. She looked at Jim, at Cliff, and back at Jim.

  “Well, this isn’t based on a measurement, Jim. Not really. But given the distance and the method, I’m guessing the killer didn’t know the victim very well, but wanted them dead enough that when they saw a gun, they picked it up and shot it because they were a good shot. Or they were shooting at someone else and missed, or they fired the gun accidentally. Find the gun, and I imagine you’ll figure out the other partics quickly.”

  I guessed that “partics” meant particulars.

  “Wait. You’re saying you think the killer found a gun somewhere? Just found one and used it?” Jim said.

  Amy shrugged. “I kind of do. If the crime was premeditated, it wasn’t ‘pre’ by much. Too risky. It’s kind of amazing the killer didn’t get caught considering everyone that was around. No one would plan to kill someone with such a large group of onlookers. I’m taking into consideration the spot from where the shot was fired. I don’t think the shooter was hiding, or even trying to hide. That’s a pretty telling fact. I think it was an impulse, or maybe even an accident.”

  Jim blinked and didn’t hide his doubt.

  “We don’t just leave g
uns lying around; real or fake. It’s something we pay pretty close attention to,” Jim said.

  Amy shrugged again. I was beginning to dislike the smug maneuver.

  “You said you have a lot of people in town. Maybe one of your visitors lost a weapon. You might want to check. Or, like I said, maybe it was just an accident and the shooter is scared witless—who wouldn’t be? In fact, as I’m sure you know, there’s a big chance that the killer isn’t still around.” She looked down toward the intersection where the hanging platform would sit in only a few months. “Look at all those woods back behind everything. They weren’t in the woods when they shot, I’m sure of it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they just ran off into them. You should check everything.”

  Jim blinked and set his jaw firmly. “We do. We will.”

  I knew they’d checked everything already and would check everything again. Cliff already told me they suspected the killer might have run into the woods, but they hadn’t been able to find any evidence that indicated that path of escape.

  “Excellent,” Amy said. “Now who’s going to take me out for breakfast? Cliffy?” She smiled at him.

  Evan cleared his throat uncomfortably. I looked up at him.

  “Should I be worried?” I said with a smile and my own wink.

  “I don’t think so, but she sure makes me uncomfortable,” Evan said, returning the smile.

  I looked at Cliff. He happened to look my direction at the same time. The fact that the scene being investigated was the result of a murder made everything far too serious to joke or even smirk, but Cliff did send me a quick look that confirmed that I had nothing to worry about.

  “I’d be happy to take you out for breakfast. In fact, I’d love to take your whole crew,” Cliff said.

  Amy looked around at the non-talkative group of men. “I suppose they can come, too. We going to that charming place down the street? Bunny’s, is it?”

  “Will that work? It’s what’s open this early.”

  “Yes, that will be fine. We’ll meet you there. Come along, troops.” Amy signaled, and the others followed her obediently to the van parked in front of Jake’s office.