Kari Lee Townsend - Sunny Meadows 04 - Perish in the Palm

by Kari Lee Townsend

  “And you’re out of time.” She checked her watch and stood. “I hope we’re finished here. Don’t you have a treasure to find or something? I suggest you focus on that and your real job instead of trying to play cop which is obviously out of your league.” She hoisted her chin a notch and then jogged off in the direction she’d come.

  “Vinegar in the punch?” Mitch shook his head on a wince. “What has this town come to?”

  “Not sure.” I sighed. “And I’m also not sure she’s the one who killed Peirce. She’s right. We are literally running out of time.”

  “Don’t give up,” Mitch said, stroking his hand over my short cropped hair and then massaging the back of my neck with his wide palm. “We haven’t ruled out Ron Durkin or Theresa McFarland completely,” he went on. “They both had access as well as motive with a grudge against Jo and Cole. We also still haven’t ruled out Linda Theodore or Brice Benedict, either. They certainly had access and motive for wanting Peirce dead.”

  “And my mother had access and motive as well. She most of all despised Peirce Theodore. Everyone knows that. But I know she isn’t capable of murder, yet she is the one who was standing over his corpse when the tent was raised.”

  “True, but like we said, she sure makes for a great scapegoat in taking the fall. It’s almost too easy, and any savvy investigator can see that. A jury will too, if it comes to that.”

  Once again I had that creepy feeling of being watched. “We should probably head back.” I looked around as the first fat raindrop fell.

  “You getting that feeling again?” I could feel him studying me.

  “How’d you know?” I peeked up at him.

  His gaze was heavy-lidded, his dark eyes as full of passion as ever. “There isn’t much I don’t know about you, Tink.”

  A thrill shot through me. I had to wonder if it would always be this way between us. I secretly hoped so. We stood up and started to walk out of the gazebo, when a hiss sounded. Mitch jumped out of his skin and reached for his gun, while I crossed my arms and tapped my foot.

  Unbelievable.

  “Morty Meadows, you’d better come out from behind those bars right this minute,” I ground out and stabbed a finger in his direction. “You’ve caused quite enough trouble, mister. It’s time you answered for it.”

  I stared at a guilty Morty who was hiding behind the slats of the gazebo, staring at me in his usual intense way, which looked even more intimidating than normal. Probably because he knew he was in big trouble. The slats were wood not metal but he still looked like he was behind bars, which is exactly where I was going to put him if he didn’t start behaving.

  Mitch holstered his weapon and took a deep breath. “That cat is going to be the death of me yet.”

  Morty just blinked at me, not afraid in the least, and then he ran off again.

  I hollered after him, “The leash law isn’t just for dogs, you know. You’d better be home when I get there.”

  “Do you think he will listen?” Mitch asked in a tone that was clear he hoped not.

  “Oh, he’ll listen. He knows when he’s pushed me too far, and enough’s enough. It’s time he accept his punishment.”

  “Like going to live with your mother?” Mitch asked hopefully.

  “Or you out in the garage.” I gave him a pointed look that warned him to behave or he would be in the doghouse right along with my cat.

  He held up his hands and backed off. “Just a suggestion.”

  Speaking of dogs… “No, I have a better idea.” I grinned, warming up to the idea. “Granny Gert is going to dog sit Biff for Jo and Cole to give them time alone just as soon as she’s feeling better, and I think Morty would make the perfect assistant, don’t you?”

  Mitch winced. “I can actually say I pity the fool.”

  Chapter 18

  Tuesday morning I decided to pay Linda Theodore a visit at the inn. There was a reason so many strangers were in town, and it was basically all my fault. So I decided to see if she needed my help.

  Morty had shown up as I expected by Sunday night. Monday had been a day of rest for Granny while I took care of her for a change, but by today she was fit as a fiddle and insisting on dog sitting Biff so Jo and Cole could get “back on track” as she put it. Morty was none-too-happy when I’d left.

  Granny had put a striped black and white bowtie on him, and he’d defiantly allowed her, letting me know I’d pretty much put him in jail anyway by confining him to a day with Granny Gert dressing him up and Biff being, well, Biff. But Morty had taken his punishment like the truly aristocratic feline that he was. King of the beasts, or at least king over Biff who’d had acted much more like the jester from the moment Jo had dropped him off.

  I couldn’t help but giggle just thinking about it, except now wasn’t the time for amusement. I wiped the smile from my face as I pulled my bug into the parking lot of Divine Inspiration. The parking lot was full of cars and people milled about every inch of the grounds at the inn. I cut the engine and climbed out, locking my car behind me. That was something I hadn’t done since moving away from the city.

  Jack Shepard the groundskeeper did not look amused when he spotted me. I raised my hands up in an I’m-sorry gesture, but he just shook his head and wandered off to talk to a swarm of people who were tearing up the lawn. His lawn.

  Frank Lalone was gesturing animatedly to a group of people who were trying to take his tools. I caught a few snippets of the argument which had to do with directions and digging and scent dogs, oh my.

  I quickly made my way inside, happy to escape their wrath. My happiness evaporated when Ms. Clark spotted me.

  “Do you see those vultures?” she hissed, waving her feather duster around madly. “They’ve already broken three vases in their haste to get to the root cellar and explore. I like to see the inn full, mind you, but this is insane. They are going to ruin the place. And after Mr. Theodore worked so hard to make it a classy, elegant, place of peace and serenity for those guests who wanted a relaxing, tranquil place to rest. This is anything but relaxing. It’s downright chaotic, I tell you.”

  “I know, and I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “Saying you’re sorry isn’t enough. Those are just words. What I want to know is what are you going to do about it?”

  I took a breath. “I’m going to try to fix it. But first I need to see Mrs. Theodore. Do you know where she is?”

  “In Mr. Theodore’s office, though I suppose it’s hers now.” Sally pointed the way with a thrust of her feather duster, and then let out a yelp over a crash down the hall. “They’re animals, I tell you. Animals.” She hustled off after the culprits, feather duster pointed like a sword, slicing the air with every step. I felt sorry for anyone in her path.

  I headed toward Peirce’s office and passed Pierre Desjardins chasing someone out of his kitchen with a frying pan. Ducking behind the corner, I escaped without him seeing me. The last thing I wanted was another confrontation right now. Good Lord what had I started? When the coast was clear, I continued on my way.

  I had almost made it to the office, when I heard raised voices coming from within. Something told me not to reveal myself, so I hesitated, and then hid just outside of the door behind a large potted tree.

  “What do you mean you don’t want to sell now?” Came an angry male voice from inside. “A deal is a deal.”

  “A deal isn’t a deal until both parties sign on the dotted line,” Linda said. “I’m sorry, but I have to think about my future.”

  “You have no future.” A bang sounded as if someone had slammed their fist on the desk or against the wall. I was about to step inside the room, but his words gave me pause. “You’ve lost everything, including your life insurance policy. Where’s the future in that? You need me, and you know it.”

  “H-How did you know about the life insurance policy?” She sounded surprised and a little afraid.

  “I know everything, sweetheart. I also know you knew about the whole thing. That’s why you
took the life insurance policy out on your dearly departed in the first place.”

  Whole thing? What was he talking about? I wondered.

  She gasped. “I-I didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t prove anything.”

  “Tell that to the judge,” he growled.

  “I want you to leave now.”

  “This isn’t over. Not by a longshot, Linda.”

  The door flew open, and I crouched down low. The bald man I’d seen at the café came storming out, leaving me wondering what exactly Linda had known about. And who the heck was this anonymous buyer? But one thing was crystal clear...

  Baldy had known the Theodores.

  I heard Linda sniffling inside and I was about to go in, but the sound of footsteps approaching down the hall made me stop. Someone was coming. I ducked down low once more. The person passed by while my head was buried so I didn’t have a chance to see their face. The door closed behind them. Standing back up, I leaned in to listen.

  “Are you okay, my love?” came a male voice from inside that sounded familiar.

  I sucked in a breath. I knew without a shadow of a doubt Linda’s lover was inside. Biting my lip, I listened harder.

  “No,” she sobbed. “That man’s a monster. He won’t take no for an answer on selling the inn. Now that all of these treasure hunters are here, business is booming. I don’t need to sell. I can live off the inn’s income.”

  “Are you certain we can’t find the treasure for ourselves? Then we can leave town like we planned and live off our riches.”

  “We’ve looked everywhere. I really had faith in Miss Meadows. I mean she knew all about us. But she hasn’t been able to find the treasure. Or she knows where it is and wants to keep it for herself, which is why we can’t rely on that. I don’t trust her. I don’t trust anyone but you. You were right in suggesting I take out the life insurance policy on Peirce.”

  “A lot of good that does us now. It’s gone, and so is the treasure, apparently. So what are we going to do?”

  “Not sell the inn.”

  “Why? He seems desperate to buy this place. If we get enough money for it, we can move on. Start over.”

  “He is desperate. He would do anything to buy this inn, but he won’t give us enough money for it now. He’s only doing this to keep my silence. He’s forcing me to sell because he found out I only took out that life insurance policy because I was pretty sure someone was going to kill my husband. He knows I know about what went down.”

  “Mon Dieu, we’re screwed.”

  And suddenly I knew who lover boy was. I would know that accent anywhere. Linda Theodore was having an affair with her French cook Pierre Desjardins. But more importantly what went down with Baldy? One way or another, I needed to find out.

  I crept down the hall and made my way to Pierre’s kitchen, knowing he might be a while with Linda. At least no strangers bothered me in there. After he’d chased the last one out with the frying pan, word must have spread that his kitchen was off limits, which meant the secret passageway was as well. Probably why people had shovels outside. They must be looking for another way into the tunnels. Poor Jack and Frank must be having fits about now.

  A tray of fruit and cheese and crackers sat untouched, and my stomach growled. Maybe Pierre wouldn’t notice if I had just a little. Before I knew what happened, the entire tray was gone. What could I say, I was starving. I looked around desperately for more and quickly grabbed a random knife and sliced and diced, replacing what I had just consumed.

  Pierre entered the room, looking frustrated and angry just as I set the knife in the sink. I let out a sigh of relief. His expression changed to surprise when he spotted me, but his look quickly darkened as he stared down at the counter. My relief was short lived moments later.

  “Mon Dieu!” He gaped at my creation. “What have you done? Where is my plate of perfection? That was for Mrs. Theodore.” His features hardened. “No one touches my utensils or cooks in my kitchen without my say so.”

  “I am so sorry,” I started to say, but I could see from his expression, he didn’t like mere words any more than Ms. Clark did. “I know it was wrong, but I was starving. Look,” I pointed, “I fixed it. I made more.”

  “You made a mess,” he growled, and something in his eyes told me he was much more dangerous than I had originally thought. “Maybe someone needs to fix you.” He took a step toward me, his frame more solid than I had realized. I had definitely caught him at a bad time, and now he was taking out his pent up frustration on me. He looked intimidating with his dark slicked back hair and angry brown eyes boring into me.

  I took a step back near the sink where the knife I had just used lay within easy grasp. Raising my chin a notch, I knew I had to do something quick. “You like to fix people, don’t you?” I said. “Kind of like when you tried to fix Mrs. Theodore by convincing her to take out a life insurance policy on her husband. Funny how he died a short time later.”

  Pierre jerked to a stop, clearly thrown off balance, but then he quickly recovered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His face returned to the masked, expressionless one I was used to. I suspected that was all an act and this hot-headed man was the real Pierre Desjardins.

  “I’m fully aware of the affair you were having with Mrs. Theodore, Mr. Desjardins. I heard you in her office just a short time ago.”

  His face paled slightly but then filled with the color of beets. “You can’t prove anything. I am a passionate man, Miss Meadows. Mrs. Theodore is my employer. I am simply looking out for her well-being.”

  “By killing her husband in hopes of raking in the insurance money?”

  “I did not kill her husband!” He slammed his fist down on the counter, the veins in his neck throbbing.

  “You’re right. You are a passionate man.” I pressed on, knowing I was close to getting him to spill the beans. “Passion can make a person do all sorts of things they normally wouldn’t. Bet you didn’t count on her losing it all to the IRS, did you? Tell me, Pierre, what went down that Linda knew about? Why is she so afraid?”

  He surged forward before I knew what was happening. I reached in the sink and wrapped my fingers around the knife, but he stopped one inch from my face, his hands bracketing either side of me, fencing me in. All I could think about was Mitch and how upset this would make him.

  “You think you know so much, Sunny,” the cook ground out through his teeth. “You’re passionate in your quest to know the truth, and you’re right. Passion can get you into trouble, Sunny. Passion can make you afraid. Are you afraid now, Sunny? Do you plan to use that knife you’re holding on me? Are you capable of killing someone?” He reached out and squeezed my hand until the knife cut into my finger just enough to draw blood and make me wince.

  I swallowed hard, trying not to show my fear. Maybe I had provoked him too much, pushed him too far. I wasn’t passionate so much as impulsive, which was way more dangerous. I’d landed myself in many scrapes because of it. This time was no exception. In fact, this time was one of the worst I could recall at the moment.

  I opened my mouth to speak, when the door flew open.

  “We have a problem outside.” Jack stepped through the opening and stopped short. “Do you have a problem in here?” His voice changed from one of frazzled to one of angry disapproval as he looked between Pierre and myself.

  Pierre stepped back, his usual mask firmly in place as he replied without missing a beat. “Not at all. I was showing Miss Meadows how to use a paring knife. As you can see by the mess she made on my counter, she has no clue what she’s doing. Someone needs to steer her right before she hurts herself.”

  “Is that right, Miss Meadows?” Jack asked me, his jaw tight and eyes locked on mine. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m glad Pierre was here to help.” He stared Pierre down from his tall height, his impressive frame indicating he meant business. “Women and children should be cherished. I hate when I see anything bad happening to them. It does funny things to me. Mak
es me go a little crazy. Don’t you feel the same way?”

  Pierre cleared his throat. “Of course.”

  I set the knife down slowly and ripped off a paper towel, giving my heart time to slow its racing pulse and my breathing a chance to even out before speaking. I smiled gratefully at Jack, avoiding Pierre’s gaze. I didn’t want him to know how much he had gotten to me. “I’m fine now. Thank you, Mr. Shepard. It’s just a little cut, but Mr. Desjardins is right. I clearly have no place in the kitchen. Good day, gentlemen. I’ll be leaving now, but rest assured,” I finally made eye contact with Pierre, “I’ll see you later.”

  “Anytime,” Pierre fairly purred.

  Jack just narrowed his eyes.

  ***

  Later that afternoon when Mitch came home for lunch, I told him all about what I’d heard when I went to see Linda. He asked about the Band-Aid on my finger, so I told him I did it in the kitchen. It wasn’t a lie, it did happen in a kitchen. Just not this kitchen. I couldn’t help if he assumed it happened while making his lunch. Granny Gert and Fiona were feeling much better. Fiona and Harry had left town, but Granny had worn herself out dog sitting Biff and coddling Morty, so I’d made her go rest while I took over the kitchen duties.

  Mitch ran a hand over his whiskered face, eyeing the mess of a sandwich I’d made him. I almost thought he was going to push it away, but he lifted it and took a bite. Probably more to distract himself while he formulated how he wanted to respond to my story. He clearly was not happy once again that I had gone somewhere without him and put myself in danger.

  “Seriously, Sunny?” was all he finally said.

  “You had already gone to the station.” I threw up my hands. “I only went to see if I could help Linda since I am the one who started this whole treasure hunting debacle. I couldn’t control what happened after I got there. How could I possibly have predicted Baldy would show up?”

  “I thought you were psychic?” He smirked.

  “Funny.” Not!