The Pickled Piper

by Mary Ellen Hughes

  “Would you like to explain that, Miss Lamb?”

  “I mean you can stop questioning Nate because Nate didn’t murder anyone. I know who did.”

  The sheriff looked as skeptical as he had when Piper first mentioned her suspicions about Gordon Pfiefle to him. She didn’t blame him, since she’d been wrong—so wrong—about Gordon. And, of course, Lyella.

  “It came to me when I thought about how important timing is. It really has to make sense, doesn’t it?”

  The sheriff nodded cautiously. Gil was looking at Piper as though he hoped she would start to make sense very soon.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m babbling, I know. It’s because I’ve been up all night looking for this.” She held up the envelope containing her printouts. “When I realized how close I came to being set up for murder, dodging it only because I showed up at Brenda Franklin’s two hours later than planned, I started thinking back to something that had bothered me before but I’d shrugged it off.”

  “And what was that?” Gil asked

  “Tina fainted at the wrong time.”

  The two men stared at Piper, the unspoken “huh?” hanging in the air.

  “At the fair,” Piper explained. “After I found Alan’s body in my pickle barrel. The crime scene crew had cordoned off the area around my booth, and crowds of people gathered around to stare. Tina pushed through to ask what had happened. When I told her that Alan Rosemont had been murdered, she looked shocked, but no more so than anyone else. But when a bystander told her that Alan’s body had been found in my pickle barrel, Tina turned white and fainted!”

  Piper looked with frustration at the two. “Don’t you see? The timing was all wrong! Tina didn’t faint when she heard about the murder. She fainted when she heard where the body was found. Because she didn’t leave it there. Tina must have murdered Alan in another spot, and someone moved his body into the pickle barrel after she left.”

  “Someone like Dennis Isley?” Gil offered. The sheriff looked sharply at him but didn’t say anything.

  “Very possibly,” Piper said. “But if the timing of Tina’s reaction isn’t enough for you, Sheriff, look at what I found on the Internet.” Piper pulled out the photo. “Tina claimed never to have met Alan until she moved to Cloverdale. She acted puzzled over why he gave her such a hard time about setting up her coffee shop. When she offered to do a background search on him for me, she definitely implied that she knew nothing about him to begin with. But here she is on his arm at a charity dinner. They’re both nineteen years younger, but still very recognizable.”

  The sheriff took the photo and studied it, then read the printed material Piper handed him. He looked at Piper through his bushy brows, which were tightly knit at the moment.

  “Tina Carson is the reason I’m here this morning,” he said. “She called to tell me she’d seen Nate breaking into Dennis Isley’s truck the day before Dennis died, but that she’d struggled with saying anything that would get him into more trouble. Brenda Franklin’s murder, she said, convinced her she shouldn’t hold back such information, and that I might want to search Nate’s premises in case there was incriminating evidence that would—as she put it—end this madness.”

  “Oh dear,” Gil said. “Nate told me that Tina was here the other day when I was out. She had him searching fruitlessly through my back room stock for a book she claimed she’d ordered. She could easily have slipped up to his apartment and planted something while Nate was busy back there.”

  “I don’t have a search warrant that would allow me to run up there and take a look,” the sheriff said. “Thought I’d talk to the boy first and see if this claim held any water. It sounded fairly dicey to me.”

  Piper was surprised but pleased to hear that. “Where is Nate now?” she asked.

  “I worried that he didn’t seem to be eating in the morning,” Gil said, his expression concerned. “So I said I’d buy him breakfast if he’d bring back a Danish for me. I sent him to Tina’s.”

  The sheriff met Piper’s eyes. “I think it would be a good idea,” he said, “to get on over there.”

  • • •

  The early-morning breakfast rush had apparently ended as Piper and Sheriff Carlyle arrived at Tina’s coffee shop. Through the window, Piper could see Nate sitting alone at the counter. Tina was clearing a table of dirty dishes nearby, and the rest of the shop appeared empty. Good, Piper thought. The sheriff demonstrated the same preference for privacy as they walked in by flipping the “Closed” sign on Tina’s door outward.

  “Miss Carson,” he said, nodding to her and then to Nate, who’d turned around in some surprise. “We need to have a little chat.”

  Tina looked at the sheriff, then at Piper, an expression of apologetic concern crossing her face. “I’m sorry, Piper. I had to tell the truth of what I saw. Believe me, it broke my heart. But I’m afraid we were wrong about Nate.”

  “Were we?” Piper asked.

  “What? What are you talking about?” Nate slid off his counter seat to face the three.

  “I’m sorry for you, too, Nate,” Tina said. “But not as sorry as I was for poor Brenda Franklin. I couldn’t deny what you were anymore.” Tina had moved behind the counter with her tray of dirty dishes where she set them down. “Not after you killed Brenda.”

  “I didn’t kill anybody! Sheriff, I don’t know why she’s saying that. It’s not true!”

  The sheriff raised his hand in a calming gesture, and Piper shook her head silently at Nate, wanting to say more but willing to let the sheriff take the lead.

  “Miss Carson,” the sheriff said, “you said you saw Mr. Purdy break into Dennis Isley’s truck?”

  “I did,” Tina said solemnly.

  “So, the item we found in Mr. Purdy’s apartment came from Dennis Isley’s glove compartment?”

  “I never—” Nate began, but was again cut off by the sheriff with a swift gesture. Piper, who knew the sheriff had never set foot into Nate’s apartment, thought she knew where he was heading.

  “I’m afraid so,” Tina said.

  “That’s pretty incriminating, son,” the sheriff said to Nate, who’d given up protesting, seeming to realize, as his eyes darted from face to face, that something was going on that would be best served by his silence.

  “I’m sorry, Nate,” Tina said. “I wish it weren’t so. But photos don’t lie, do they, Sheriff?”

  “No, they generally don’t, Miss Carson. Unfortunately, people do.”

  Tina nodded and shook her head sadly.

  “I’m curious, Miss Carson,” the sheriff said, his tone deceivingly casual, “how you knew the item was a photo?”

  Tina’s head, which had been bent down to her cluttered work counter, snapped up. “Why, I . . . you just said so, didn’t you, Sheriff?”

  “No, I didn’t identify the item at all. But you seemed to know that I would find a photo in Mr. Purdy’s apartment. Could that possibly be because you put it there?”

  “What?” Tina cried. “How could you say such a thing?” She looked to Piper for support. “Tell him that’s totally ridiculous, Piper! Why would I do such a thing? All I’ve done is try to help.”

  “That’s what I once thought, Tina. But now I believe the person you wanted to help was yourself.”

  “You also,” the sheriff said, “seemed awfully comfortable just now having Nate here with you, alone, in your shop, Miss Carson. Someone you believed was a murderer.”

  “I, I—” Tina sputtered. “The place just cleared out a minute before you got here. Besides, I knew you’d be here soon.”

  “Did you?” The sheriff slipped out Piper’s Internet photo. “You’ve claimed to have no relationship with Mr. Rosemont prior to your arrival in Cloverdale. You also just stated that photos don’t lie. Would you like to explain this to us?”

  Tina looked at the photo showing her young
er self on the arm of a smiling Alan Rosemont. Her hands started shaking. “Where did you get this? That’s not me! What are you trying to do to me?”

  “According to the website that displays this photo, that is you, Miss Carson. You are identified by name, though Alan Rosemont—and it’s clearly him—is misidentified as Alan Carson, not Rosemont. A reporter’s mistake? Possibly. But the two of you are listed as co-owners of the Swing ’n Bounce Miniature Golf and Trampoline Center in Scranton. I’d say you must have known Alan Rosemont pretty well, wouldn’t you?”

  Piper watched Tina’s face slowly crumble. Nobody spoke for what seemed an eternity as tears filled Tina’s eyes.

  “Alan treated me very badly,” she said, her voice trembling. “I was in love with him, silly fool that I was. I believed in romance and fairy tales back then, and I convinced myself he was perfect and wonderful. My Prince Charming,” she said with a pained laugh.

  Piper remembered Tina, that night at A La Carte, requesting that Nate sing a particular song from The Student Prince and tearing up when he did. Had that been a remnant of her naïve and idealistic self?

  “Yes, Sheriff,” Tina said, “we co-owned the Swing ’n Bounce—at least I saw it as co-ownership. Alan talked me into believing it would be an amazing investment that would make our fortune. And as soon as that happened we would get married. The thing is, I was the only one who had money to invest and credit for a loan, so it had to be in my name. But Alan had management and business know-how—or so he said. That made it an even balance in my mind.”

  Tina exhaled loudly. “The business flopped. We had a few good weeks at the beginning, but then problems cropped up and public interest waned, and we began bleeding money. I didn’t realize it at the time, of course, since I’d let Alan handle all the finances.” She shook her head. “I was so trusting! But Alan saw where things were heading and made plans to save his own skin. One day I woke up and he was gone, along with all the money in our shared bank account. I was left with a pile of bills and no way to pay them. Plus, I’d recently found out I was pregnant.”

  “Oh, Tina,” Piper said softly. “Did Alan know?”

  Tina nodded. “That probably was one more reason he took off. I could tell he wasn’t thrilled with the news, though he tried his best to cover that.” She grimaced. “Not the greatest way to start off a pregnancy—finding yourself abandoned, penniless, and besieged on all sides by creditors. The doctors wouldn’t say for sure, but I’m convinced that’s what caused my miscarriage.” Piper winced, but Tina drew a deep breath and went on.

  “It took me years to recover from it all, but I finally got back on my feet and managed to actually build up savings. That’s when I discovered where Alan was. It was totally accidental. An acquaintance of mine showed off an antique doll she’d bought at his shop while passing through Cloverdale.”

  “And you came here to confront him?” the sheriff asked.

  Tina shook her head. “I didn’t expect any compensation by then. He’d made sure the Swing ’n Bounce was all in my name, so the debts were all mine. Our bank account? As I said, it was shared. He could claim it had been mostly his money, I suppose. It was too long ago. I didn’t want to haggle over it with him. What I wanted to do was to make him uncomfortable.”

  Tina looked at the three skeptical faces and insisted, “Yes! I wanted to remind him daily of his horrible behavior. I wanted him to worry that at any moment I could ruin the reputation he’d built up so carefully in Cloverdale, the reputation that got him elected to the town council and found him a well-to-do, trusting girlfriend. I wanted him to be forever on edge that I might tell Brenda Franklin what he was really like.”

  “So you did know he was seeing Brenda?” Piper asked.

  Tina turned to Piper, her expression pained. “Oh yes, I knew. And when you said Brenda had something to tell you, I worried that Alan had in fact shared his past with her—probably a whitewashed version that put all the blame on me, but still enough to get the sheriff asking questions.”

  “Was Dennis Isley blackmailing you?” the sheriff asked.

  Tina began pacing behind her counter. “That’s where the photo came from that I slipped into Nate’s guitar case. Dennis snapped it after I fled from the fairgrounds. I didn’t mean to kill Alan that night! I didn’t! I only wanted to insist he stop harassing me with those endless restaurant regulations and hoops he had me jumping through that he thought would discourage me from settling in Cloverdale. But our argument got nasty, really nasty, and all the anger I thought I’d been rid of came bubbling up so that I couldn’t even think straight!

  “The last straw was when Alan laughed at me. He turned his back on me and walked away and started blowing on that damned bagpipe! I couldn’t stand it. So I picked up a tent stake that was lying nearby and swung it at him. Twice! I didn’t intend to kill him. I was just so mad that I needed to hurt him for all he’d done to me. When I realized he was dead, I panicked and ran off.”

  Tina had been picking up and setting down things on her work counter as she talked—salt shakers, salad tongs, catsup bottles. She grabbed a striped dish towel and rubbed at her face. “Dennis must have seen the whole thing. He took that cell phone photo of Alan, and another of me standing over Alan holding that stake.” She laughed startlingly. “I couldn’t very well plant that one at Nate’s, could I?” she said, then sobered. “Dennis showed up with his photos later that night and said I’d have to pay him to keep him quiet.”

  “Did Dennis move Alan’s body into my pickle barrel?” Piper asked.

  “He did, though I didn’t know that right away. That was his surprise for me to find out on my own.” She grimaced. “He thought it was a great joke. Remember that ‘pickled pink’ comment of his? Alan always treated him like scum, and Dennis hated him. He might have wanted to kill him, but he didn’t have to. I took care of that. Dennis simply added his own touch of revenge.”

  “And you pulled Dennis off that roof?” Nate, who’d stayed quiet up until then, spoke up.

  “He wanted so much money! I could see it was never going to end. I’d be living in fear as I worked my fingers to the bone to pay him off. When I saw my chance to end that, I knew I had to take it. I didn’t try to pin it on you, Nate. Charlotte Hosch did that.” Tina’s lips twisted with disgust. “I wish I could have pinned it on Charlotte. But not you, Nate.” She looked pleadingly at him. “It was driving me crazy to think that you might go to prison for what I’d done.”

  “But you were willing to send me to prison for Brenda’s murder?” Piper asked.

  Tina slapped down her towel. “You wouldn’t stop digging! No matter what I tried to do to throw you off or to make you think it wasn’t worth it, you kept on poking around!”

  “Paint on my storefront or damage to my car wasn’t anywhere near as important as clearing Nate’s name. But you were willing to burn my place down—and me with it—to save yourself?”

  “Don’t you dare judge me! Do you think you wouldn’t have done the same if you were in my shoes?”

  Piper highly doubted that but kept silent. The sheriff, though, had heard enough. He stepped forward.

  “Miss Carson, I’m arresting you for the murder of—”

  “No!” Tina suddenly grabbed a huge knife from the nearby butcher block. “No, you’re NOT arresting me!” She held the knife in front of her.

  “Now, Miss Carson, there’s no need—”

  “I’m not going to prison. I’ve suffered too much already! Alan deserved exactly what he got. Dennis was as bad as Alan, and when I got rid of him I did the world a favor. You’re not going to put me in prison for that. Nobody is!” She waved her knife menacingly.

  The sheriff had eased himself in front of Piper. “Just calm down, now, Miss Carson. We can talk about this—”

  “I’m done talking! Alan could disappear for nineteen years. I’ll do it, too!” Tina stepped out from behind h
er counter holding the large knife in front of her with both hands. “All of you, move back there.” Tina jerked her head toward her storeroom.

  Did Tina really believe she could simply lock them up and make an escape? It was insane, Piper thought. But then hadn’t Tina been acting irrationally for days? Unfortunately, Piper had kept making allowances, putting it down to stress and lack of sleep.

  The sheriff obviously saw he was dealing with madness as he kept his voice even and calm. “No one wants to hurt you, Miss Carson.”

  “Just move!” Tina swished her knife—which looked dangerously sharp—through the air. “Or else!” She took a step forward.

  The sheriff pushed Piper back hard before grabbing a chrome-legged chair. He held it out in front of him. “Miss Carson, put that knife down now!”

  “No!” Tina screeched. She reached back with one hand for a glass carafe, half full of hot coffee, and flung it at the sheriff. It didn’t have far to go and her aim was spot-on, catching the sheriff full in the face and stunning him, causing him to drop the chair. Tina took that instant to lunge at him with her knife. Before she could stab him, Nate threw himself at her. Tina turned and slashed.

  Piper saw blood burst from Nate’s arm. She grabbed the closest thing at hand—a chrome napkin dispenser—and threw it at Tina, striking her head hard. Tina faltered, and the sheriff, back in the game, kicked at Tina’s legs, sweeping them out from under her. The knife flew from her hands as she fell and Piper ran to stomp on it. The sheriff had Tina’s hands behind her in an instant and locked in handcuffs.

  As he held her down and radioed for help, Tina wailed and thrashed, finally sobbing uncontrollably. Piper spared her little sympathy as she stepped widely around the two to get to Nate with a clean towel. He had staggered back against a wall and slid down, his face pale as blood flowed between the fingers he held against his wound. Piper pushed his hand off and wrapped the towel around his arm. As she pressed down firmly, he smiled weakly.

  “Thanks.”

  Piper nodded but glanced toward the sheriff. “Actually, I think you’re the one who deserves to be thanked.”