Small Town Murder

by Patti Benning

  Autumn smiled slightly at that. “Just a couple of days ago, you were talking about how he was the best guy I had ever dated, and I needed to hang on to him.”

  “Well, now he’s a jerk. You can do better. Besides, you weren’t really in love with him, were you?”

  “What do you mean? Of course I was.”

  Her friend shook her head slowly. “I don’t think you were. I think you liked him, and maybe loved the idea of what you might have together in the future, but I don’t think you were ever really in love with him. Not like I am with Rory. You never talked about him much unless I asked, and you know I can’t shut up about my own husband. And when we went on that trip last year, you didn’t seem to miss him at all. If Rory left me, I would be a complete wreck. But looking at you, well, it doesn’t look like you were up all night sobbing into your pillow.”

  “It’s not just Brandon,” Autumn said. “So much else happened too. This weekend was just so insane. I’ve hardly had time to process it all.”

  “What else happened?” her friend asked.

  “Jeb is going to close the store,” she said softly. “Ever since the One-Stop Supermarket opened up, I guess he just hasn’t been making any money off of it. It’s closing in January.”

  “Oh, Autumn, that’s horrible. What are you going to do? Where is everyone going to work?”

  “I have no idea,” she said. “And the thing is, I’m the only one that knows. He told me because he knows I support myself off of this job. He’s planning on telling everyone else after the holidays – rather, he wants me to do it for him – so they will be able to enjoy this time with their families.”

  “That’s not right,” Alicia said. “They should know. Even if it’s just a part-time job for most of them, that doesn’t mean they don’t need the money.”

  “I know,” Autumn said. “He said I can tell them sooner if I want to. I just… I don’t know. I don’t know if I should or not, and it’s driving me crazy. Then, of course, there’s what happened at the assisted living home…”

  “Are your aunt and uncle okay?”

  “Yes, they’re fine, thank goodness. One of the cooks that works there had an allergic reaction to something, and he died.”

  “Wow,” Alicia said, sitting back. “That’s terrible.”

  “I know. And that’s not all. I looked in the pocket of his jacket for his EpiPen, and I found a case, but there were no syringes inside. It was empty. And there’s the whole thing with the doctor and the keys…”

  “What are you talking about? What doctor, and what keys?”

  Autumn shut her mouth, realizing what she had let slip. She had promised Nick that she wouldn’t tell anyone but Alicia was her best friend and wouldn’t tell anyone else.

  “Autumn?”

  She sighed. It was out of the bag now, anyway. “Don’t tell anyone, but the doctor that works there claims that she couldn’t find the key to the medicine closet where they keep the other EpiPen’s, but when the director went to look for the key afterward, it was hanging in its usual spot. He thinks that she missed them in her panic, but it was a mistake that cost someone his life. He’s firing her.”

  Alicia’s eyes were wide. “That’s insane. Your weekend sounds like it was a disaster. I’m so sorry. That poor doctor. Can you imagine how guilty she must feel?”

  “I know,” she said. “It’s like everything imploded. I don’t know what they’re going to do until they can hire someone else. The other cook is on a two-month long leave. Her daughter was just born.”

  “They’re looking for a new cook, and you’re looking for a job,” her friend said.

  “I can’t work there,” Autumn said, laughing. “I like to cook as a hobby, but I don’t have any actual training or experience.”

  “I doubt they care,” Alicia said. “You could volunteer just for the holiday season. Then if you do well enough, you might be able to stay on long-term. This could be a way to make your dream come true. You’ve always wanted to have a restaurant.”

  “It’s not exactly a restaurant,” she pointed out. “But maybe I will offer to volunteer. I’m not going to quit my job at the grocery store yet, so I can’t work there full-time, but I could stop in and make dinners, especially if someone showed me the ropes. With Brandon leaving me, I could use something to keep me busy until after the holidays.”

  “I’m sure things will start looking up. I mean, they couldn’t really get much worse, could they? And about Brandon, I think it’s a good thing that he left. You want to be with someone you really love. To make a marriage work, there has to be something special there. It’s better to not get married at all than to marry the wrong person.”

  Autumn gave her friend a grateful smile. What she was saying sounded a lot like what her uncle had said, and she thought that it was probably true. She wanted to get married, but she wanted to do it right. The truth was, she probably hadn’t been as in love with Brandon as she thought she was. She would just have to keep believing that there was someone else out there for her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  * * *

  “Thank you for doing this. You don’t know how much it means to them. To all of us, really.”

  Autumn smiled at the young woman who was leading her to the kitchen. She had been tasked with showing Autumn around the kitchen and explaining the instructions for the meals.

  “I feel so bad for what happened,” she said. “Benson’s death must have been a shock to everyone. I know the staff here has full schedules, and trying to make meals on top of that must be hard. My aunt and uncle love this place, and it’s been great for them, so I’m happy to help however I can.”

  “Mr. Holt is already gathering applications for the position, but he probably won’t hire anyone until the new year. The holiday season is just so busy, and not many people are looking for jobs a week or two before Christmas. Not permanent ones, anyway. It’s hard to find someone who wants to work for the salary that we can offer, most of the really skilled cooks can make a lot more money running their own restaurant, and he also doesn’t want to hire someone who’s just looking for an easy job. Cook Benson actually wanted to volunteer his time here, but Mr. Holt insisted on paying him.”

  “Do you know if the police figured out what happened?” It had only been a few days since the man’s death, but life at the assisted living home had to go on. The residents still needed care, and they needed to eat. While Autumn wasn’t a highly trained cook, she had always enjoyed cooking, and unlike the staff members who had been pitching in in the kitchen for the past few days, she would be able to dedicate her time here without letting other responsibilities go by the wayside.

  “I have no idea,” the young woman said, shaking her head. Her name was Natalie, and to Autumn she looked like she was just out of high school. “One of the nurses quit, and another staff member left as well, because they think he was killed on purpose. I don’t know where the rumor came from, but I’ve heard people saying that it’s the doctor who did it.”

  She lowered her voice for the last sentence. Autumn frowned. The only person that she had mentioned anything to was Alicia, but her friend wouldn’t have told anyone here. That meant the news of the doctor’s administrative leave must have spread faster than expected.

  “What have you heard?” she asked, wondering how much the young woman knew.

  “Just that she’s the one that was supposed to get the keys to the medicine cabinet, but she never got them. I know it sounds far-fetched – why would she want to kill Cook Benson? – but at the same time, everyone that I’ve spoken to that was there the day it happened seems to agree that she ran off to get the keys and never came back. I don’t know what to think, and I guess it’s not any of my business. I’m just here to take care of the residents.”

  “You’re right, it’s not something that we need to figure out ourselves. Better to leave that for the police. Right now, I’m more concerned about learning my way around this kitchen.”

  That was th
e truth. The assisted living facility’s kitchen was much larger than she had remembered, with a cold, almost industrial feel to it. Everything was made out of stainless steel, and it was nothing like her warm, inviting kitchen at home.

  “I helped the cook a couple of times,” Natalie said. “That’s probably why they asked me to show you around. There are thirty residents here, but on the holidays, we have a lot more people because families come to visit. Christmas is going to be pretty busy, so you will probably want to get some helpers too.”

  “Since you already know your way around, would you like to help me out? I could use your help tonight, too, if you have time.”

  “I’d love to help you for Christmas dinner, but I can’t tonight. My shift ends in three hours, then I have to leave. I’m taking night classes, and the semester ends next week, so I have a lot of studying to do. You’ll be fine, though. Tonight’s going to be a quiet night. We don’t usually have that many extra guests during the weekdays. It will probably just be the residents here for dinner.”

  She thought that Natalie was trying to reassure her, but the thought of making dinner for thirty people was overwhelming. She had never cooked for so many people all at once. What had she gotten herself into? She was in over her head.

  “This is the menu for the rest of the month. All of the residents get a print out the menu, so you should probably stick to it. Everything should be low-sodium; the residents that don’t have to watch their sodium intake can add salt to their meals when it’s on the table. There should be a book with all the recipes around here somewhere. Some of the desserts are premade, and we just heat them up, but we try to make everything else from scratch. I know a lot of people complain that the food is bland, but don’t pay them any attention. Just follow the recipes and the menu, and things will be all right.”

  “And what if there are more guests than usual? Will I have to modify the recipes?”

  “Yes, but there’s a handy chart that will tell you how to adjust the ingredients. You should try to make three to four extra servings for each meal in case someone drops a plate on the floor or a guest arrives unexpectedly.”

  “Okay,” Autumn said. “It looks like tonight is meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and brownies for dessert?”

  “Yep. Here’s the recipe book. I think the meatloaf is on page thirty-six. Make sure that you mash the potatoes well, because some of the residents can’t chew very well. Before Mr. Holt took over, we used the dried potato mix, but now we have to use real potatoes. It’s a bit of a pain, but people like them better, so I suppose it’s worth it.”

  “Where will I find everything I need to start cooking?”

  “The potatoes and spices are in the pantry, meat and milk are in the fridge of course. The brownie mix is in the pantry as well, and I think you’ll need two or three boxes. Pots and pans will be in the cupboards, other than the ones hanging above the stove. I’m sure you’ll be able to find everything, feel free to look around. There’s a few hours before dinner, so you have some time to familiarize yourself with the kitchen. Do you think there’s anything else you might need?”

  “No, I guess not,” Autumn said, trying to keep the doubt out of her voice. “It seems pretty self-explanatory. I suppose I’ll get started. You go and do what you need to do.”

  “Good luck. Mr. Holt will be in later today, so if you need anything else, he’ll be able to help you.”

  Natalie gave her a cheery wave then left the kitchen. Autumn stood next to the island that housed the expansive stove range, feeling alone and overwhelmed. She told herself that she was only going to be doing this a couple of days a week until Christmas. It was the right thing to do. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do with her time, anyway. At least this way, she would be making a difference, and it would also give her something to take her mind off of the mess that her life had become.

  “Potatoes,” she said, looking down at the recipe book. “Let’s start with those.”

  It took her the better part of an hour to first find the bowls, knives, and peeler, and then wash and peel the potatoes by hand. By the time the potatoes were cubed and ready to be boiled, she sorely needed a break. She made her way to the bathroom. After using the facilities, she washed her hands and stared at herself in the mirror. She didn’t feel quite so overwhelmed anymore. It had been relaxing to stand at the sink peeling potatoes for an hour. Her mind had been free to wander, but instead of thinking about all the things that had gone wrong, she had been thinking about the future, and what she could do to make it better. First things first, she had decided she needed to find a new job. She didn’t have the faintest clue where she would start looking, but was sure that the Internet could help her with that. She should treat this as an opportunity to try to follow her dreams. If she could start work as a sous chef somewhere, she might be able to make enough money to support herself while she got the training she needed to become a real chef, then she could spend the rest of her life doing something that she actually enjoyed.

  Feeling a little bit better about the coming months, she returned to the kitchen, greeting Mrs. Zimmer and a couple of other familiar faces on her way. Once in the kitchen, she filled the largest pot she could find with water from the sink and put it on the stove. She was just about to turn on the gas burner when something made her hesitate. She hadn’t yet turned the dial, but the air smelled strongly of gas. Something was wrong.

  The hair on the back of her neck prickling, she looked down at the stove and saw that all of the dials had already been turned to high. Horrified, she quickly turned them off. They couldn’t have been on for the entire hour that she was peeling the potatoes — she would have noticed the smell — which meant that someone must have snuck in and turned them on when she went to the bathroom. Who would do such a thing? Chilled, she realized that this meant that Cook Benson’s death hadn’t been an accident after all. Someone was actively trying to kill the cooks at the assisted living home.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  * * *

  “Are you sure that you didn’t bump the dials, or turn them on and then forget about them?” Nick Holt asked her.

  “I’m sure,” she said. “I may not have much experience in a large kitchen like this, but I’m not stupid. I know not to turn gas burners on without lighting them.”

  He shook his head, staring at the stove in the center of the kitchen warily. “I can’t believe this. If you had lit one of the burners, the entire kitchen might have burned down. You could have died. This could have destroyed the entire home. Who would do something like this?”

  “Maybe one of the residents just got confused?” Natalie suggested. Autumn had run into her when she rushed to Nick’s office after turning the burners off.

  “It’s possible, I suppose,” Nick said. “But nothing like this has ever happened before. Natalie, I’m going to ask you to gather the staff. We need to figure out what happened here.”

  “It can’t be a coincidence,” Autumn said. Her initial fear had passed, and now she was angry. Someone had tried to kill her, and she was certainly going to take it personally. “First Cook Benson dies, and no one can find an EpiPen for him, then this happens. Someone’s trying to kill anyone who works in the kitchen.”

  “Why would someone want to do that?” Nick asked. “Killing our cooks doesn’t achieve anything, other than making the staff more stressed and taking away a member of our team. There’s no benefit to stopping the kitchen from working.”

  “I know it doesn’t make sense, but it also doesn’t make sense that there would be two accidents, one fatal and one potentially fatal, in the same room in a matter of days. I’m just as happy to believe in coincidences you are, but this is a bit much for me.”

  “I understand if you don’t want to volunteer here any longer,” he said. “And trust me, I will be looking into this. I won’t let this slide.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet,” Autumn said. “Are you going to call the police?”

>   He hesitated. “If questioning the staff and residents doesn’t turn anything up, then I might,” he said. “I don’t want to waste their time, though. I know everyone here, and I’ll be able to get the truth out of them much more quickly than the police would. We don’t have any interior security cameras – all part of trying to make this place feel like a home, not the medical facility that it is. There isn’t anything that the police could do that I can’t.”

  “I still think they should know. It might help them with their investigation into Benson’s death,” she said. He nodded. Glad that he had agreed with her, she continued, saying, “What should I do now? Should I try to finish the meatloaf?”

  “You can head home if you want,” he said. “I don’t think anything in the kitchen should be touched. If I do have to call the police, they might want to dust for fingerprints. If you’d like to stay for dinner, you’re free to, of course. We will probably order pizza again. It may not be the healthiest thing in the world, but the residents like it, and it will help distract them from thinking about what almost happened.”