“No, I don’t think so.” I could partially see into the back, but didn’t see anything I’d delivered to Greer. Maybe I’d imagined seeing the frog statue. “Say have you seen anyone hanging around the store?”
“I haven’t been out much.” He rubbed his back again. “Because Trolls.” He jerked a thumb toward the backroom. “I did stop by yesterday around noon, but you guys were gone and the door was locked.”
Probably looking for food was my guess.
“Did the county sheriff’s office people ask you about seeing anything early this morning?”
“Yeah, or if I heard anything.” He folded his arms across the pockets of the awful leisure suit. “I wasn’t here real early or anything and when I got here I had the music sorta loud.”
“Thanks, Disco.” I turned to leave. “Hope your back feels better soon.”
“I hope so too.”
Next on my list was Lark Travers, the owner of the jewelry store right next door to us. The possibility he’d been there early was much more likely than Disco. I asked the same question, and Lark had arrived about just before the Jameson County Sheriff’s car had. He also was surprised we were targeted. It was clear he was worried about his own shop. The routine was to lock everything, cash and jewelry, in the safe at night, but the property damage and the lost sales would be devastating.
I glanced at my watch to see if I had time for one more. Probably time to check back in on Dixie and Terry to make sure they hadn’t come to blows.
Dixie and Terry were no longer at opposite ends of the room, but had partnered to clean around the island. Max had filled two boxes with unsalvageable supplies and was dragging them toward the back door.
I stopped to clear the way. Once outside, I grabbed the other end of the box and we lifted it into the dumpster.
“Great teamwork.” He grinned. “I’m going to take off in a few minutes. I’d stay but I’ve got a photo session with the track team.”
“I can’t thank you enough.” We lifted the second box and tossed it in.
“If tomorrow works to go over the photos, I’ll come by in the morning.”
“Thanks to you and Terry, we should be able to do that.”
“Terry is it now?” He raised a brow.
“He said to call him Terry when he’s out of uniform.” I brushed my hands together to remove the flour. “I’m trying it out.”
“I’ll come by around ten o’clock. If that doesn’t work, just call me.” He gave a little salute and headed toward his vehicle.
Back in the shop, I resumed my paper sort. I’d cleared most of the files and my back had begun to ache. I felt Disco’s pain in a real way. It seemed like minutes but when I looked at my watch, I could tell it had been more than an hour. I took a batch to the trash and met Terry on his way out.
“I’m going back to the office for a bit,” he said. “I told Dixie to call if you two need anything.”
“Thanks, Sheriff.” I’d slipped back to the title. It was a hard habit to break.
“We’ll get these kids.” His jaw hardened. “They’re not just TPing trees or soaping windows like we did when Dixie and I were in school. Spray painting and this kind of damage, this is serious.”
I walked back inside and went to check on Dixie. She’d finished sweeping up most of the broken glass. She looked exhausted, both mentally and physically, and I had to assume I looked the same.
“Hello,” a male voice echoed from the back.
“Hello,” we both answered.
“We’re in here,” I added.
It was Hirsh. Dixie’s brother, and he’d brought a posse.
“Hi, Sugar.” He bobbed his head in my direction. “Hey, kid.” He rubbed his sister’s shoulders. “How you doing?”
“Okay,” she answered, biting her lip.
“Good. It’s time for you two to get out of here.” He gave Dixie a little push. “Time to go home and clean up.” He looked at her and held his nose as if he smelled something bad.
“You don’t tell me what to do.” She gave him a shove back.
“This time I do, sis.” He gave her a squeeze and headed her toward the exit.
I could tell how tired she was by the fact that she went without further protest.
“You, too.” Hirsh pointed at me.
I smiled and followed, but stopped as I got even with Hirsh. “Who called you, Max or Terry?”
“Both.” He grinned and suddenly I could see the Spicer family resemblance.
“Thank you.” I gave him a hug and followed Dixie out the door.
There were bad people in the world, but there were also a ton of good people.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next morning, I woke up with a start realizing in all the excitement, I had not yet painted over the graffiti on my garage. I was surprised I didn’t have a nastygram tacked to my door reminding me.
I showered and threw on some clothes. Ernest looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Getting dressed before there’s coffee and kibble. The nerve.
I didn’t find any white paint in the garage. Greer had been sure there was some, but maybe whoever she’d hired to paint hadn’t actually left any behind. In any case, it would require a trip to the hardware store before I could get started.
I walked around the side of the garage and stopped. It had already been painted. The awful words in red were completely covered. I was relieved and a little uneasy. Nice that it was taken care of, but baffling that whoever had done it had not said anything.
Walking back inside, I called Dixie’s number.
“My garage is painted,” I said without preamble. “Do you think Hirsh and his crew did it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She yawned. “I think he would have told you. Do you know what time it is?”
“Sorry, I didn’t look at my watch.”
“It’s okay.” She yawned again. “I needed to get going. Someone needs attention.”
“I hear that.” I could hear Moto barking in the background. “Want to meet at the Red Hen for breakfast before we get started?”
“Sure.”
“How about we meet at nine? Max is coming at ten to go over photos with us so that will give us time.”
“Works for me. See you there.” She disconnected.
I finished getting ready for the day, and Ernest kept me company while I did.
“I wish you could actually talk,” I told him. “Then you could tell me who it was that painted over the graffiti.”
He switched his tail and meowed.
I’m guessing I was being scolded for not understanding that he could actually talk.
No sign of Mrs. Pickett this morning and I made it to the Red Hen in record time. I secured a booth and Toy brought coffee. I couldn’t help but compare the bright cheerful atmosphere to the tired décor of the diner in Mars. Toy had done a wonderful job and I hoped she could find a replacement for JoJo.
Dixie walked in as I was on my first list and my second coffee. Again, Toy was on the spot.
“Heard what you girls have been through.” Toy put a cup in front of Dixie and refilled my cup. “Don’t give up.”
“We won’t.”
We ordered food and had just finished. I fished in my bag for my wallet.
I could sense Dixie tense before I saw the reason for it. The sheriff had just walked in the front door of the Red Hen.
“Ladies.” He nodded at us and slid into the booth next to Dixie.
“Terry,” she answered.
“Sugar, we ran the license plate number that you wrote down and the van was stolen.”
Man, I thought I’d done such great detective work. All within the confines of not stepping on police toes or putting myself in danger. And I’d hoped it would become obvious they were on the wrong track.
“Howe
ver,” the sheriff continued, “when I talked to the man who had reported it stolen, he was almost certain it had been stolen by a ‘friend’ of his who he owed money to. The friend matches the description of the guy you described to me and that Dick Fusco also described.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Disco,” Dixie answered for the sheriff.
“Right.” Since no one called him by his real name, I’d forgotten what it was. “So, will you be able to find him?”
“We have ways.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Law enforcement ways.”
I guess in spite of the “Call me, Terry,” and his help with the cleanup, he hadn’t quite gotten over us waiting so long to share the information we had.
* * * *
Back at the office, it was almost like the break-in had never happened. Almost. Dixie’s brother and his friends had done such a complete cleaning job that you couldn’t tell there’d been food and flour everywhere and butter on the windows. I was grateful for what they’d done. However, all the utensils Dixie’d had hanging up were gone, and the pantry was nearly empty of supplies.
Max arrived promptly at ten and proceeded to set up his laptop, a mini-projector and a portable screen. Photo proofs have come a long way since I started in the magazine business. Once everything was set up, Dixie and I sat back and watched the show.
The pictures were perfect. I was glad we’d dimmed the room lights in order to see them better, because I have to tell you, I got a little teary they were so perfect.
Crazy, I know, to be teary over pictures of meatloaf and apple pie, but there you have it.
Once I’d gotten over the hump of how much I loved the photos, I took a deep breath and switched gears.
“Max, these are wonderful and just what we hoped for.” Dixie brushed her finger on the corner of her eyes, and I knew she had been just as entranced as I’d been.
“Could you go back to the side dish series?” I asked.
He hit the back key on the laptop several times and we looked at that group again. “Your pick,” he said. “But I like this one the best.” He moved forward a couple of photos.
The three of us spent the next hour, reviewing, debating, and reviewing again until we were in agreement on which ones to use.
“I’m heading back home, and I’ll send these to your Liz,” Max said, as he packed up the screen.
I disconnected the projector and helped him get all the electronics in their proper bag. As we walked to his car, I thanked him again for helping with the cleanup, and for being so flexible on the project.
“And, Max, those photos…I’m in awe of your talent.”
“It’s what I love.” He smiled as he slid the bags into the passenger seat. “The food angle is new to me, but I enjoyed learning about it and doing something different. Now I can apply that to other work.”
“We’ll be lucky if you can fit us in on the next project.”
“I’ll get the photo files to Liz and let you know when they’re sent.” He gave me a quick hug before he got in. “You’re almost there.”
Back inside, I found Dixie in the kitchen and on the phone with Tina Martin, who insisted she needed us to stop by her house.
Chapter Twenty-Three
When Tina answered the door at her house, she looked like death warmed over. There were bags and dark circles under her eyes and I didn’t think the Looking Pretty Super Gone concealer would help.
Instead of her usual sharp appearance, she sported gray sweat pants and a washed-out pink sweater than had seen better days. The ever-present energy drink was, well, not present, today. I’d be willing to bet it would be a long time, if ever, before she’d be swigging down one of those.
“Hi, ladies.” When she held open the door her hand shook. “Thanks for coming.”
The products that had been so nicely displayed the night of the Looking Pretty party were piled in a heap on one end of her dining room table, and her unopened mail was stacked on the other end. Aunt Cricket would’ve said she looked like something the cat dragged in.
I don’t care what the DCI or the County Sheriff’s Office results were; I didn’t think this looked like the home of a killer. It looked like the home of a woman who was falling apart.
“Have a seat.” Tina pushed a wadded-up blanket off the couch and onto the floor.
“How are you doing?” I asked and then immediately regretted the question.
How was she doing?
Oh, about as well as anyone who was about to be arrested for murder.
“I’ve been better.” She smiled weakly. “I have to take it a day at a time. It’s been hard to keep busy. My real estate business is non-existent. I’m not even going in to the office anymore. No one wants to buy a house from a murder suspect.”
“I’m sorry.” I couldn’t imagine what her days were like. “What can we do to help?”
“The reason I asked you to drop by was I wanted to give you all my things for the Founders’ Day cookbook.” She handed me a file with some forms and notes. “I know you’ve got more meetings and can’t bring myself to come.”
Tina teared up.
“I’m sure this will be straightened out soon,” Dixie spoke up.
“I don’t know how.” She wiped her eyes with a tissue. “To tell you the truth, the committee stuff was kind of a ploy to get you here. I know you did some checking around when Bertie was a suspect and was missing, and I don’t know who else to turn to. You’ve got to help me clear myself.”
We should have said “no” right then. But, of course, we didn’t.
“Have the police been back to talk to you?” I asked.
“They did that first night.” She twisted the hem of her sweater. “Then the investigator from the DCI questioned me. I told them everything I know.”
“Do you know of any reason why someone might have wanted to kill Kenny?” Dixie asked.
“I honestly can’t think of any reason.” She tucked limp blond hair behind one ear.
“Were you having an affair with Kenny?” I asked bluntly.
Might as well ask the question and get it over with.
“We had been seeing each other for a while.” Tina looked down at the floor. “Call it whatever you want. I’m not proud of the fact I was dating a married man.”
“Did he tell you he planned to divorce Elsie?” Dixie straightened the stack of mail absently.
“We hadn’t really talked about it, but I hoped.” Tina reached for a tissue. “We were very discreet.”
“What was Kenny doing at your house when you had a whole house full of guests?” I’d thought about this ever since I’d found Kenny. Why would he be there? “That doesn’t seem very discreet.”
“You know, Sugar.” She looked up rubbing the bridge between her eyebrows. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“You didn’t know he was up there at all then?” Dixie stopped lining up envelopes.
“You probably think I’m lying, but it’s the honest truth. I don’t know when he came. I don’t know why he would chance it. And my energy drink. Why in heaven’s name would he drink it? He was always giving me a hard time about having it with me at all times.”
“Were you aware of any illegal drugs he may have been taking or buying from someone?” I wasn’t sure the sheriff or the DCI investigator had even considered that possibility. I hoped Sheriff Griffin had shared our information about Tattoo Guy, but it seemed the investigation into Kenny’s death had centered about Tina and only her.
“No. I can’t imagine Kenny taking drugs.” A tear ran down her cheek. “He wasn’t a druggie. He was a lot of fun, a big spender. Bought me all kinds of jewelry and clothes, but he could afford it. But it wasn’t about the things.”
I couldn’t believe she was defending the louse and I wasn’t sure he really could afford it. At least not based
on what I’d heard while waiting for Minnie at the Farmers’ office. But no one seemed to buy the idea of Kenny being into drugs. If not drugs, what was his business with the guy with the knife tattoo and the runaway waitress?
“I’m not sure there’s much we can do, but we’ll definitely do anything we can.” Dixie leaned forward. “Do you have anyone who can stay with you? Family close by?”
“No one.” Tina shook her head. “At least no one who would come. I’ve worked hard for what I have, and the only family I have left are people who think I owe them something. But me needing something? No, I don’t expect to see them.”
“Do you have an attorney?” I asked.
“No.” The tears started again. “Do you think I need one?”
“I’m sorry, hon, but yes I do.” I patted her arm. “Did the DCI people tell you what’s next?”
“They took a bunch of stuff from my house and my garage.” She dropped her face into her hands. “A container of anti-freeze I had in there. Do you suppose they think I put anti-freeze in my own drink and then gave it to Kenny?”
“That’s possible.” It would explain why the sheriff was not forthcoming with what the poison was. This was different than the rat poison they thought had killed Elsie.
“We’ll get the names of some attorneys for you.” I stood. “And you try to get some rest.”
“Thank you.” Tina reached out and grabbed our hands. “I can’t thank you enough.”
We left Tina with what I was sure were empty promises. Other than the promise to get her some names of some good attorneys.
Back at the shop, the sheriff waited by his car. We pulled in and parked.
He followed us inside and took a seat at the counter.
“I want to be clear, I am telling you this not because I want or need your help.” He paced back and forth. “But because I don’t want you to attempt to help.”
“Got it.” Dixie handed him a cup of coffee. “Now spill the beans.”
“We brought Robbie Clark in for questioning this morning.”
“Who?” I wasn’t following.
“The guy with the knife tattoo.” He tapped his arm.
Game of Scones Page 21
