Marriage Is Pure Murder

by Staci McLaughlin

  I needn’t have worried. He beamed under Mom’s attention. “Thank you kindly, Dorothy. It’s the all-natural ingredients that make my ice cream better than most. People can really taste the difference.”

  Mom nodded. “Absolutely. I’ve had a hankering for your double chocolate swirl all day. And I’d love it on a sugar cone.”

  A hankering? Had Mom switched from mysteries to Westerns?

  “Coming right up,” Mitch said. He grabbed a large metal spoon out of a nearby container, shook off the water droplets, and started to scoop up the rich brown chocolate.

  Mom laid a hand on the glass. “You know, I’ve always admired your business sense. Even with the recession a few years ago, you managed to keep your doors open and do quite well for yourself, from the looks of it.”

  I bit back a smile. I should have brought Mom to my meeting with Carter, too. I’d forgotten how charming she could be.

  “People love ice cream, especially mine,” Mitch said. “And even when they’re watching their pennies, ice cream is cheap enough to splurge on. I can’t take all the credit for my business, though. My grandfather is the one who had the foresight to open the parlor downtown.”

  “This was your grandfather’s place? How wonderful,” Mom gushed.

  I could practically see Mitch’s chest puff up. “I’m carrying on the family business.”

  He handed the cone to Mom, and she moved toward the register. I stepped up to order. Mitch looked momentarily startled, as if he’d forgotten I was there.

  “What can I get you?” he asked. “The same as your mom?”

  “Yes, please.” I already loved chocolate, so double chocolate could only be twice as good.

  He scooped up my portion and handed it over. I held the narrow base of the cone between two fingers while pulling my wallet from my purse.

  Mitch held up his hand. “On the house.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked, keeping my wallet open. He must need to sell a ton of ice cream to cover the costs of running this place, something that couldn’t be easy in November.

  “I consider your cones a marketing fee. When people walk by and see you two lovely ladies enjoying your ice cream, they’ll come inside to order their own.”

  I wasn’t sure I was enough of a magnet to draw in a crowd, but if Mitch wanted to give me free ice cream, who was I to argue? I closed my wallet, put it back in my purse, and pulled a couple of napkins from the nearby holder. “Thank you,” I said. “That’s very generous.”

  Mom and I picked the nearest table and sat down. She looked over at Mitch with a flirtatious smile. “Why don’t you join us?” she asked. She gave me an exaggerated wink that I could only hope Mitch couldn’t see from where he was standing. Who knew she could be such an actress?

  “Thank you, Dorothy. Don’t mind if I do.” He came around the counter and sat down at our table.

  I glanced around the shop. A cluster of local sports team pictures and framed thank-you notes occupied one corner. “You seem to do quite a bit for the community,” I said.

  Mitch nodded. “It’s important for business owners to support their local youth leagues. My grandfather and father always did, and now I do, too. Besides, the coaches and their teams always celebrate their wins in my shop, so I make out all right.”

  “What a smart marketing strategy,” Mom said.

  I took a bite of ice cream. Mixes of dark and light chocolate mingled on my tongue. Definitely a good pick. “One of your employees mentioned it can get pretty crowded here in the afternoons.”

  Mitch nodded. “Some days, it’s standing room only. Makes me wish I had this entire building, like my grandfather did.”

  “Your grandfather used to own the flower shop, too?” I asked.

  “Yep, but then the business took a turn for the worse, and he had to sell half the property to keep afloat. I’d love to get my hands on the other half again.” His eyes gleamed. “I could add tables, open a cookie station, an iced coffee bar . . .” His voice trailed off as he became lost in his thoughts.

  “If you want to buy the other half of this building, why did you make an offer on that property down the street?” I asked.

  He reared back his head as if I’d hit him in the face with a scoop of ice cream. Clearly he didn’t think anyone knew about the offer, but so what if they did?

  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  I tried to keep my answer vague, since I’d gotten the information from Jason. “I heard a rumor that you placed a bid on that old auto parts place. Is that so you can add the cookie station and the other things you were just talking about?”

  His face turned red, and he started to tap his fingers rapidly on the table. I glanced at Mom, and she raised her eyebrows at me.

  “I’m only wondering,” I said, “because someone else told me you wanted to buy the flower shop.”

  Mitch tugged at the collar of his polo shirt. “I like to keep my options open. Don’t want to put all my eggs in one basket and all that.” He stood up so fast, his chair wobbled and I thought it might tip. “If you ladies will excuse me, I have work to do.” With a hurried smile at Mom, he strode behind the counter and through the employee door.

  Mom turned to me, her eyes wide. “What was that all about?”

  “I don’t know, but he sure was acting odd,” I said.

  She took a nibble of her cone. “Do you think I should ask him out to dinner? See what else I can find out?”

  “Absolutely not, Mom. For all we know, this man could have killed Bethany.” Wow. Wasn’t she the one who always lectured me about safety?

  Mom patted my hand. “I suppose you’re right. Besides, we learned a little bit about Mitch today. It’s a start.”

  But not much of one. All we’d confirmed was that Mitch wanted to expand his business. He’d talked about how important it was to buy the other half of his grandfather’s original building, but it couldn’t be too critical to him if he was interested in a different location. The big question was why he’d acted so squirrely when I’d mentioned it.

  Mom held out her arm so I could see the watch on her wrist. “You know I don’t like to nag you, but shouldn’t you be getting back to work?”

  I looked at the time with a jolt. Here I’d gone from being finished with Carter’s appointment too early to return to work to now being late.

  “You’re right.” I jumped up from the table and tossed my napkins in the trash. Mom followed me outside, and we said good-bye before she headed back to work. I got in my car and sped back to the farm. Fortunately, Gordon wasn’t waiting in the lobby, tapping his foot and preparing a lecture on tardiness.

  I was breathing a sigh of relief when I opened the office door and came face-to-face with him. Shoot.

  “Hi, Gordon,” I said too brightly. “How’s your day going?”

  “I can’t complain.” He held up a stack of index cards. “I was using my lunch break to work on my wedding toast.”

  “How nice of you,” I said, sidling past him to place my purse in the desk drawer.

  “In it, I was going to mention your dedication to your job, except I see you’ve taken another long lunch.”

  I sat down in the desk chair, clasped my hands on my stomach, and looked up. “Well, since we don’t have set lunch hours, I’ll be making up the extra time at the end of the day.”

  “I suppose I can leave that part in then,” he said as he erased something on an index card.

  “Are good employee skills usually listed in wedding toasts?” What would he mention next? That my pigsty mucking skills were unrivaled? That my e-mail punctuation was impeccable?

  Gordon twisted one of his pinkie rings. “I must confess, I’ve never written a toast before.”

  No kidding. Seeing the worry on his face, I felt a pang of remorse at teasing him, even if it was mostly in my own head. “You know what? Neither have I. Write whatever you’d like. I bet it will be perfect.”

  He touched the knot in his tie, as if for co
mfort, and nodded. “Maybe I’ll look up some examples on the Internet later.” He walked out of the office, muttering to himself about sentiment and mushiness.

  I got to work and soon found myself immersed in discounts, ads, and reservation rates. Even with the added minutes from my late lunch, quitting time arrived before I knew it. I powered down the computer, gathered my belongings, and stopped by the kitchen to see if I could find an apple for Wilbur from the fruit bowl Zennia always kept on the counter.

  Picking a shiny red one, I went out the back door and past the herb garden, noting how the scent of rosemary filled the air. I stepped onto the patio, where a couple was playing backgammon at one of the picnic tables, cut past the redwood tree, and went up the path that led to the pigsty.

  Wilbur already stood at the fence, as if he knew I was coming for a visit. I patted his bristly head and handed him the apple. Then I leaned on the fence while he ate his fruit.

  “How’s it going, Wilbur?” I asked.

  He snorted in reply.

  “Good to hear,” I said.

  He snorted again.

  “Me?” I asked. “Life’s okay, except the police might suspect me of killing that flower lady I was telling you about.” Wilbur didn’t reply this time, so I kept talking. “I’m sure I’m blowing everything out of proportion, but I did find her body. And some lady swears I was arguing with her, even though I wasn’t. But Detective Palmer knows me and knows I’m not the killing type. At least he has other people to investigate.”

  Wilbur pawed at what little remained of his apple and glanced up at me.

  “Who, you ask? For one, the creep who’s cheating on his wife. Bethany was blackmailing him, and there may be other victims to consider, like Lucia from the drugstore. And there’s always Mitch, who could have killed her over the sale of her shop, even though he’s supposedly made an offer on another property, so I’m not sure. And there’s Bethany’s daughter, I guess, although I don’t know why she would kill her mom, unless she was in a hurry to take over the flower shop.” I sighed.

  Wilbur stepped forward, stuck his snout through the fence rails, and bumped my leg. He wagged his curlicue tail.

  I patted his back. “Thanks for your support. I’m sure everything will get sorted out.”

  And if it didn’t, I could only hope the extra stress didn’t ruin my wedding day.

  Chapter 18

  Half an hour later, I’d showered, blow-dried my hair, and donned black leggings and a cable knit sweater. I’d even gone the extra mile by adding earrings and a touch of makeup for my dinner with Jason.

  The doorbell rang. I went to the door and opened it, already smiling in anticipation of the evening. Jason was dressed in crisp blue jeans and a white button-down shirt. The little flecks of gold in his green eyes sparkled in the porch light, making my heart do a flip-flop.

  When he saw me, he let out a low whistle. “Well, hello there.” He stepped inside and pulled me in for a kiss that made my toes curl.

  “Yowsers,” I said after we’d pulled apart. “I hope you continue to greet me like this once we’re married.”

  “Count on it. Every day.”

  I grabbed my purse off the table and checked to make sure I had my keys. “Carter should take lessons from you on how to be a good husband.”

  Jason’s brows came together. “Is this the same Carter who Bethany might have been blackmailing?”

  “The very same. I had a little chat with him today. I’ll tell you about it on the way to dinner.”

  Jason gave me a troubled look but didn’t say anything as we stepped out of the apartment. I locked the door before we headed down the stairs to Jason’s car in the visitors’ parking space.

  Once there, Jason held the door open for me and I slid in, leaning back into the cushioned seat. He went around to his side and got behind the wheel. As he backed out of the space and drove to the Breaking Bread Diner, I filled him on everything I’d learned during the day, from Carter’s admission to the affair and blackmail to Mitch’s original plan to buy the rest of the building his grandfather once owned.

  I skipped over the part about Carter blocking the door during my visit and poking me with his finger. I hadn’t been hurt, and besides, Jason couldn’t do anything about it now. There was no reason to upset him and spoil the evening.

  The restaurant was fairly empty, and we had no trouble being seated. Once we’d placed our orders, our food arrived in record time. As if by mutual agreement, we dropped the topic of Bethany’s murder while we ate. It wasn’t that appetizing a topic.

  “When does your brother get into town?” I asked.

  Jason cut into his steak. “He and his wife are coming two days before the wedding. They’ll stay at my place in the spare bedroom.”

  “I assumed your parents would be staying with you.”

  “They’ll be at one of the hotels in town. They didn’t want to impose. I told them it was no trouble, but they insisted, so I offered the room to my brother.”

  We spent a few minutes talking about where our other relatives would be staying and for how long. When I’d finished the last bite of my grilled fish, Jason leaned across the table and said, “Feel like a little bowling?”

  The last time I’d gone bowling, I’d accompanied Ashlee and Brittany on a man-hunting mission. Neither one had picked up a spare, but they’d both managed to pick up a guy.

  “Sounds fun,” I said. “I’ve been working on my technique.” A bit of an exaggeration, but I knew Jason’s competitive side would immediately kick in.

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Your technique, huh? Are we still talking about bowling?”

  I felt my face grow warm and shot him what I hoped was a mysterious smile. “Maybe.”

  We left the restaurant and drove across town to the bowling alley. Living in such a small town, going bowling and seeing a movie were the two main options when it came to nightlife. Luckily, Jason and I enjoyed both.

  At least a dozen cars were parked in the bowling alley lot, but we were still able to score a lane. After stopping at the shoe rental counter, I changed into my bowling shoes, picked a ball that was light enough I wouldn’t embarrass myself, and plugged our names into the machine.

  While Jason put on his shoes, I sat down in the plastic chair next to him. “Has Detective Palmer shared anything with you about Bethany’s murder?” I asked.

  “Not much. He’s more closemouthed than usual. Did you tell him about the blackmail?”

  “I left him a voice mail, but he hasn’t called me back.” I felt my chest tighten. He hadn’t returned my call and wasn’t sharing information with Jason. Was it because he considered me a viable suspect? Would I be getting married in a Blossom Valley jail cell?

  Jason must have noticed my concern, because he said, “He’s probably swamped and doesn’t have time for either of us. I’m sure he’ll call when he has the chance.”

  His answer made sense, but if the detective was really so busy with Bethany’s case, wouldn’t he want to return my call as soon as possible to see if I knew anything that might help? “He hasn’t given you a single update?” I asked.

  “He mentioned no one has a solid alibi. Mitch checked in on the ice cream shop once or twice that day, which puts him right next door to the scene of the murder. He said he was running errands the rest of the time, but doesn’t remember talking to anyone who could back up his claim. Violet was home alone, but she has no way to prove that.”

  “What about Lucia? If Bethany really was blackmailing her, she has a motive, too.”

  Jason finished tying his shoes and stood up. “I don’t know if she’s even on the detective’s radar. Not to mention, we know little about her. She may not belong to those initials in Bethany’s notebook. LM could stand for someone else.”

  “Maybe, although it is curious that a girl who has to skip a semester of school because she can’t afford the cost would buy flowers all the time.” I grabbed my bowling ball. “But let’s worry about that later. Rig
ht now I need to concentrate on beating the pants off of you.”

  “If your plan is to get my pants off, I may let you win,” Jason said.

  I tossed a smile over my shoulder and stepped up to the lane. Five seconds later, I had my first gutter ball.

  Jason had the good grace not to comment as I moved aside so he could take his turn. He got a strike. Of course.

  “I’m letting you take the lead so you won’t be too embarrassed when I beat you,” I said.

  He gave me a quick kiss on the lips. “Whatever you have to tell yourself.”

  Four frames later, I was bowling slightly better, but Jason was winning by a significant margin. I decided to distract him.

  “Hey,” I said as he picked up his ball from the ball return. “Do you remember anything big happening Labor Day weekend?”

  He frowned. “Do you mean here in town? There’s always the parade.”

  I shook my head. “More like a news story about someone getting busted at a big party or a drunk driving arrest, anything like that. Brittany told me that she took Lucia to a party on Labor Day weekend, and Lucia started acting weird after that, especially the one time a cop was driving behind her.”

  “Let me think about it,” Jason said. He released the ball and knocked down only six pins, the worst he’d done so far. Maybe my plan to distract him was a good one.

  Once the ball came back, he took his second turn and picked up the spare. So much for messing up his game. Maybe I should have fluttered my eyelashes, like my mom had with Mitch.

  I tried to copy what he’d done but only managed to knock down seven pins total. I flopped down in my seat. “Think of anything?” I asked in a last-ditch effort.

  Jason smirked at me like he knew what I was doing. “Afraid not, but when we’re done here, why don’t you come over to my place and we can research it?”

  If this was a first date, I might suspect his offer was akin to the old “Come up to my room to look at my stamp collection” gambit, but I knew Jason literally wanted to do research. Of course, we could always make time for a little stamp-collecting action when we were done.