Death by Crockpot

by Linda West

  “The will, the will!” Helena snapped her fingers. “The big reading was today. Mr. Maritime all beside himself because Jackson left him nothing but some stale cigars. I got something that was already mine to begin with – and she got all my family’s oil money!”

  I was trying hard to understand. As I said, I’m not a brilliant girl. No one thought I was going to college, if you know what I mean. I struggled to comprehend her drunken ranting and learn more.

  “So Jackson’s will was read today, and what happened?”

  Helena cackled. It sounded like she was doing an imitation of the evil witch of the east on purpose.

  “We got screwed – little Kat O’Hara with your big violet eyes and your little boy body, and not in a good way.”

  Little boy body?

  I glanced down at my less than prominent bust. I always chose to think of myself as athletic. Even though I’m not.

  Helena tipped the wine bottle back with more force, and I prayed she wouldn’t chip a tooth on the glass. Or maybe she ought to.

  THE WILL!

  Oh goodness, I had forgotten all about the reading of Jackson’s will today! I forced myself to stay on track now that Helena’s filter was obviously way off.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I feigned. “That’s not right.”

  She swung the bottle at me like a pirate. “Exactly! You know that's not his baby, don't you? Mia with her supposed pregnancy – ha! Jackson had a vasectomy years ago; he never wanted to have children. But did he even put that stipulation in the will? NO! He just left her all OUR money without even the condition of a DNA test to make sure it was his baby! But the worst – the worst…”

  Helena broke down and started crying, and maybe I actually felt sorry for her.

  Whatever happened, it certainly seemed as if Helena was a victim in all of this. And where was her son? He certainly couldn’t be happy knowing that his inheritance and school college fund was stolen from him. Not for the first time, I also noted that he was the same size as the man that I had seen crouching by Jackson's house that night. The same man that should be wearing a remembrance from my beer bottle cap. Plus, Elle had said they were packed and ready to leave…

  Helene’s crying seceded, and she settled down enough to take another bite of a sandwich. She chewed for a while and seemed to relax and open up. She slugged down some more wine and sighed.

  “At least I finally got my music box. I don’t even care about the darn painting. I just wanted to help my son. You don’t have kids do you, Kat?”

  “Just five cats.”

  She nodded. “Not the same, but still you’d do just about anything to help them, right?”

  I nodded. I glanced at Aphrodite giving me the evil eye in the corner because I refused to let her back on my neck.

  Helena suddenly reached into her purse and pulled out an exquisite silver music box. She wound it up on the bottom and set it down carefully on the bakery counter. It was a treasure of an item, inlaid with silver scrolls and what looked like fairies playing on the top. From its depths, the music player lilted out the notes of Edelweiss in a haunting tinny sound. It looked very old, and very expensive.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  “This is what Jackson left me in his will,” she said, gazing at it with nostalgia. I didn’t understand if she was happy or sad about it.

  “Do you like it?”

  Her eyes lit up. “Like it? I love it! My mother gave it to me when I made my first Holy Communion when I was eight years old. It was passed down from my grandmother, to my mother, and then to me. It’s very special to me. This is what I was looking for when I saw you in the house on Six Pines the day after Jackson died.” She examined it lovingly, turning it over and running her fingertips along the silver. “All these years Jackson hid it from me. I think he was jealous of me getting such a beautiful item at such a young age.” She shrugged her aquiline shoulders in a haughty gesture. “I begged him to return it to me after Mom died, but he refused to give it to me – and then I get it like this.”

  I could feel her pain. “I’m so sorry you got it through your brothers’ passing…at least your mom would be happy knowing you finally have it now.”

  Helena nodded. “She would have been much happier knowing that the miniature Picasso painting that was attached to the inside was still there.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Picasso? I gaped at Helena. The Picasso?

  Helena flipped open the music box to show me the red velvet lined inside where one might keep rings or valuables, and on the inside cover was a frame with a piece of glass. Behind the glass was a picture of Jackson at a young age. Even as a toddler, he had shock white hair. In the picture, he looked like he’d just had a tantrum and he was sticking his tongue out.

  Helena laughed. “This is what I found in place of the painting that was there. Even from the grave, he mocks me. I had hoped to sell that Picasso – the one that used to be behind this glass. It was an original. My grandmother modeled for him when she was in college in Madrid.” Helena smiled slightly at the memory. “She was quite a woman, my grandmother. Anyway, I had hoped to help…to help Frankie.”

  She looked at me and I had a glimpse of the beauty she must have been before time, and a tough life, had worn her down.

  I didn’t trust Helena, but right now I believed what she was saying.

  She took another swig of wine and continued talking as she gazed at the music box.

  “I never cared about money. When I found out Jackson had suddenly stuck oil on our homestead – after tricking me into selling my half – I really wasn’t bitter. I was an artist. I didn’t care about money. It never seemed to make my parents happy. I just needed enough to care for Frankie and me after his father left us.”

  She traced her finger along the top of the music box. “I hid this in my bedroom behind the sidewall when I left home, but as usual, my brother was one step ahead of me.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “He stole your Picasso and switched it out for a picture of himself?”

  Helena nodded. “Sick sense of humor. Money was Jackson’s only real love. Sadly, he took after my father that way. That’s why my mom was so adamant when she gave me this. I didn’t understand what it was worth then, but she made me swear to keep it hidden for a rainy day. When I found out Frankie was sick, I knew I had to come back to the house and get it so I could sell the painting and pay the medical bills. But Jackson got to it first.”

  We looked at the picture of Jackson with his bratty pucker. She suddenly snapped it shut, as if to block out his memory.

  I got a bottle of beer and returned to the counter and sat back down with Helena. I looked at the elegant silver music box as the music slowly faded and finally died. For a while, we both just looked at it and didn’t say anything. I drank my beer, and she slugged her wine.

  Jackson hadn’t just stolen her family fortune; he’d taken the only thing Helena had to pay for her son’s medical bills, whatever they were. Despite my sympathy for her situation, it still made her and her son my top suspects. Not only was Frankie big enough to be my unknown assailant – but now I knew he was also fighting for his life.

  CHAPTER 41

  I jumped when the front door to the bakery banged open. Frankie burst in sans his Harvard uniform. Tonight he was dressed all in black. Black. All black like the man I saw in black? Where were all the Harvard regalia clothes now? Maybe that was all a good guy act.

  He looked flustered and red in the face as if he’d been drinking – possibly a family problem. After the reading of the will and the loss of his future, perhaps he wasn't taking things very well.

  Aphrodite let out a howl I had never heard from her before and jumped off the table and back onto my neck. Frankie barely looked at me as he grabbed his mom roughly by the arm.

  “Come on, Mom, let's go.”

  Helena reluctantly set the wine bottle down, replaced her music box in her bag, and allowed her son to lead her out the d
oor. A cab was waiting with the lights on at the curb. As I shut the door behind them, I heard Frankie say to Helena, “We’re leaving tonight. I hate what this is doing to us, Mom. I'd kill him again, if he wasn't already dead. I swear it.”

  Chills went up my body at the hatred in Frankie’s tone.

  What did he just say?

  ***

  “Kat, you in there? Kat, it’s me. Open up.”

  Loud knocking at the door pulled me from my panicked pacing at the fireplace from what I’d just hear.

  I let out a sigh of relief opened the door. It was Jaime, standing there in his Kissing Bridge deputy uniform. I was really happy to see him.

  He looked around the empty bakery. Aphrodite lifted a paw as if to say hello. I gave her the eye, and she slinked off and sat down in a chair and scowled at me.

  Jaime did a quick check in the back kitchen, bathroom, tried the door lock between the café and the bakery, and came back.

  “Mom said one of her clients was getting out of control, and she thought I might need to escort her back to the lodge. She thought she was headed this way?”

  I remembered Jaime’s parents owned Wino’s across the street. Wine and cheese for discriminating tastes. I motioned toward the front door.

  “Helena was here. I could have used you a few minutes ago, Jamie, because I heard Frankie –”

  Jaime shook his head. “Not Frankie. Mia.”

  “What?” It seemed Jamie misinterpreted me.

  “Mia,” said Jamie. “I’m sorry, Kat, but I just came from Six Pines. They found Mia’s car, and, well…. she’s dead, Kat.”

  I gasped and brought my hand to my mouth. “Mia!”

  I couldn’t get the thought of just seeing her so alive and ready to be a mother, and now she was dead. I sat down and put my hands in my head. Mia dead. Another death – and her so young, and her baby…It was horrible. Aphrodite came and curled up next to me as if she felt my sadness.

  I continued to take deep breaths trying to calm down and find some kind of center in all this. We didn’t have these issues in Kissing Bridge. The only calls to the police had to do with cats in the trees and such travesties. Not death. The oven timer dinged for the quiche I’d put in during the meeting, but I ignored it.

  Jamie paused. He glanced at the oven. “Aren’t you going to get that?”

  I guess he was hungry. I forced myself over to it, but could hardly appreciate my cooking. Yes, the crust was the perfect shade of golden brown and there was just a touch of crinkle on the top so I knew it was done all the way through. This one included broccoli, Brie cheese, pancetta, roasted garlic, and of course a touch of liquor a la French style. Again, I'm sticking with the dark beer for the perfect accent flavor. I'm on a run here.

  But who cared about eating now? Jamie, I suppose. He must have hardened himself to eat in any situation after seeing things in the force so long.

  I served it up to Jamie with a cup of coffee and watched as he gobbled it down. His blonde surfer locks were sticking out of his deputy hat all askew and his shirt looked like it was choking him at the neck.

  He finally loosened his shirt, and I could see his muscled pecks pressing up against his white T-shirt underneath. Jaime was looking extra good to me right now. I smiled. It was nice to have Jamie here after everything that had happened.

  Jaime had matured since high school, since we dated. I remembered him as super athletic, and I loved watching him ski and do stunts. Then he took up snowboarding and he was one of the first ones to do pipe tricks.

  If I had to come home to Kissing Bridge heartbroken and penniless, at least Jamie Henderson was the silver lining in my cloud.

  I considered telling him how I was feeling. I felt this wellness and safety that I could open up and just share all that was going on with me.

  Aphrodite sauntered over and sat on a chair by us at the counter. She stared at us intently. This was not an innocent look. I've come to know Aphrodite, and she's not named after the goddess of love for nothing.

  Then she took it upon herself to leap off her chair and plant herself in Jaime’s lap, pointing her paw at me. How uncouth! I had to teach that girl some tact. I picked her up quickly before Jamie wondered what the heck was going on with my weird cat. She wrapped herself around my neck again, refusing to be put down. Fine.

  Jaime glanced at my live fur cloak but he neglected to say anything and kept eating his quiche. For that, I have to give him a lot of credit. Props to you for knowing when to keep your mouth shut, buddy. I liked that in a guy. Heck, I like that quality in anybody because I'm nothing like it. Whenever I want to say something, it just blurts out like a cork from a champagne bottle.

  Something ached in me to get close to Jaime. Talk about old times and forget all about this murder business. I hadn’t even heard if he liked his new job as a deputy, or if he was seriously dating anybody. I refilled coffee and poured in some of the warm cream with just a bit of Bailey's in it that I had on the stove. He was off work, after all.

  After the second helping of quiche, I still couldn't get the thought of my conversation with Mia out of my head. Her determination to quit smoking and her smiling face at her future as a good mother….

  It was all so heartbreaking.

  .

  “I need to know the details about Mia’s death,” I finally said. “I thought she might be on her way here tonight. I invited her to the book club.”

  Jaime’s beautiful green eyes seemed to dive into my violet ones. Suddenly, I didn't want to talk about murder – but I had to know.

  “How did it happen, Jamie?” My voice was low. “Car accident?”

  Jamie looked up and shook his head. “It doesn't look natural, and it doesn't look like an accident.”

  My eyebrows shot straight up like arrows. “You’re saying you think Mia was murdered too? Tonight?”

  “Coroner put the time of death at 20:30– I mean, 8:30 PM, but we won’t know until we get the full autopsy back tomorrow. I can tell you one thing, her name wasn’t Mia and she wasn’t pregnant. She went to a lot of trouble to disguise herself with that fake baby bump. In any case, she had a bunch of suitcases packed like she was leaving town.”

  I got up and walked around the room. Mia murdered? And faking her pregnancy too?

  I told Jamie about what I heard Frankie say, but thinking about it now I realized it may have just been an expression, the way Dad threatens to kill me if I drink his last Guinness. Jamie chewed slower as I spoke and said he’d mentally file that information away.

  “Do you think the same person killed Jackson and Mia?” I said. “Even if what he said was a figure of speech, I just can’t help thinking that Frankie has the most to lose in this. I think you should find out what he did all night before he picked up his mother.”

  Jamie looked at me with a little smirk. “It does seem logical. You’re getting pretty good at this, Kat.”

  “Yeah, well, Ethel’s the expert…”

  Jaime raised an eyebrow. “Your seventy-something boss is the murder expert?”

  I corrected him. “Murder She Wrote expert. Take it from me; no crime school could have been better training.” I laughed. “She’s our secret weapon.”

  Jaime laughed too. It was a deep, authentic sound that made me realize again why I had liked him so much. Unlike Lance the poser, Jaime was just himself. A Kissing Bridge Mountain local that loved the land and his family. Lance with his big city dreams and lost hometown values seemed like a ridiculous choice for me now. I don’t know what I ever saw in him. I shook Lance out of my head, and focused on Jaime’s beautiful green eyes.

  “Gee, you have really pretty eyes, Jaime. Like emerald gem colored.”

  Jaime chuckled. “You been drinking, Kat? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you give me a compliment.”

  I blushed. “That wasn’t a compliment, Jaime Henderson.”

  He was smiling like a Cheshire cat – or Aphrodite, who was purring like a Ferrari engine right now.

  �
�Sounded like a compliment to me…” He shoveled another bite of the quiche into his mouth.

  “That was an observation.”

  He looked up. “Right. I think you’re sweet on me, Kat, admit it.”

  I felt blood rush to my cheeks. Good grief, now I was going to blush like a teenager in love? I stamped my foot like a little girl. This was not going the way I liked it. I pulled a bottle cap out of my pocket and shot it across the room in irritation. It banged off the stone fireplace, hit the coat rack in the corner, and turned off the main overhead lights. At least I could hide my embarrassment with some low lighting.

  The fire crackled and I made a big to-do of acting like it needed another log on it, when in reality I just wanted to not be looking at Jaime Henderson right now. But he seemed to gaze right through me.