by Lynn Cahoon
Finally, he nodded and pointed to the screen. “I knew I still had that listing in my pending folder. I printed out the forms and gave it to the guy to have the owner sign. I told him he could either bring the guy in, or have the forms signed before a notary. Any listing with over a 7-figure asking price, I make sure we have exclusive rights to sell the property.”
“But the guy never came back with either the owner or the papers.” Angie filled in the ending.
“No. And I reached out twice, then moved the contact to my assistant for another month.” He finished off his soda. “It happens. People talk about selling, but then can’t get past the sentimental value of the place. I’m sure when this guy passes, the family will come back to me for the listing.”
“He’s already gone. Gerald Moss was murdered last week.” Had it only been a week since this all started? “I take it no one has contacted you since?”
Mark shook his head. “The guy said he was a nephew. Have you talked to the family?”
“I’m going to pass this information over to Sheriff Brown. Do you have a number for this guy? Or a name?”
“Sure.” He wrote something down on a slip of paper with his company logo and phone number on the top. “Here’s his name and the phone number he gave me. I never could reach him directly there, so I’m assuming it’s going directly to voice mail.”
She took the paper and after reading the name, she froze. “That’s impossible,” she whispered.
“I’m not sure what you mean, but that is the guy who came into the office offering to list the property. Let the family know I’m very interested in helping them get rid of the place.” He glanced at his watch. “Sorry, I have another appointment now. I’m going to have to cut this short.”
When she left the offices, she felt a little shell shocked. She climbed into her car and called the River Vista police station and asked to speak with the sheriff.
“Sheriff’s out on a call this morning. Some kids decided to sneak off and spend the night out at the cave. He’s out there with some volunteers trying to get them out so their folks can tan their hides.” The overly chatty receptionist offered. “I can tell him you called, unless this is an emergency? I’ve heard you’ve had some unexpected visitors out at the old Turner place.”
“No emergency.” Angie wasn’t even sure she had anything other than a name. And she hadn’t thought to ask Mark to describe the guy. Which she should have if she’d been thinking straight. “Have him call me on my cell when he has a minute. I’ll be back in town in less than an hour and I’ll stop by.”
“He should have the kids up from the cave by then. I’ll have him give you a call if I hear it’s going to take longer.”
Angie heard a series of clicks on the line.
“Sorry, I’ve got to go. Monday mornings are usually dead. I don’t know why my phone’s blowing up today.”
And with that, the officer disconnected her call. A bang sounded on her window causing her to jump. A meter checker stood there with his machine in one hand. She rolled down her window.
“If you don’t want me to give you a ticket you either need to feed more money into the meter, or take off now.” The young woman looked at her with concern. “I can’t tell if you’re coming or going.”
“I’m going. Sorry for the delay.” She started up the car, checked her seatbelt and then eased into traffic. She’d stop by the bank, see if she could find out anything else, then head straight to the police station to wait for Sheriff Brown. If what she was thinking was right, she needed someone else to handle this. Playing Nancy Drew was one thing, dealing with a killer up close and personal was out of her pay grade.
The trip back to River Vista took longer than she’d planned. She was starving and had to pass up all the fast food places. If Sheriff Brown was still out, she’d stop by the restaurant and cook up something. The bank parking lot was empty when she pulled in and parked. She looked around, checking to make sure no one had been following her. “Paranoia strikes again,” she muttered as she stepped into the bank. The branch décor was 1970’s modern. It had looked this way when she and Nona had come to set up Angie’s first bank account when she turned 16 and took on a summer job topping corn.
The teller, Martha Fields, an older woman who’d worked there since Angie could remember, motioned her to the window. “Miss Angie, what are you doing today? Mr. Fields and I are so looking forward to visiting your restaurant. We couldn’t get reservations until the weekend after next. Your place is so popular. Your grandmother would have been so proud.”
Angie felt her shoulders relax. She was back home, with friends. And as soon as she talked to the sheriff, she’d retire from playing Nancy Drew and just be a chef. “Make sure you let your servers know you want to talk to me. I’d be glad to come out and see you guys.”
“We wouldn’t want to bother you at work.” Martha’s face broke into a grin. “Unless you insist. Maybe we could get a quick picture with you that night? I just started posting on Facebook and you’d be my first celebrity.”
“I’m not much of a celebrity, but I’d be glad to stand for a couple of shots.” Angie looked toward the offices. “Hey, is Tyra in? I have a couple of questions for her.”
“Sorry, no. She works Saturdays so she gets Monday off. Mr. Harrold is available though. He’s in there doing reports.” She glanced behind her as a car came into the drive up. “Looks like I have a customer. Go knock on his door and he’ll help you.”
Angie nodded her thanks, then went to the offices. Mr. Harrold was behind a large wooden desk, staring at his computer screen. She’d seen him in the same position years ago, but then, he’d had a pile of papers in front of him. She knocked. “Mr. Harrold?”
“Angie Turner, come on in. Mrs. Harrold and I will be there first thing on Friday to welcome you and your restaurant into the River Vista community.” He stood and pointed to a seat. “Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, I just have a quick question.” She pulled out her phone and blew up the picture of the statement she’d snapped from Gerald Moss’s desk. She went with an almost truth, hoping it would ease her path. “I’m looking into a few things for Sheriff Brown and wondered if you could tell me who that check was made out to? The copy just says Cash.”
“We can’t release information about one account holder to another without the permission of the account holder.” His face turned from welcoming to stony. “And you don’t have permission.”
“You do know Mr. Moss is deceased, right? That he was murdered?” Angie pushed. “He can’t give me permission.”
“Of course I know that. The missus and I were very sad to hear about his untimely death. But that doesn’t change bank rules. I’m sorry, there is just no way I’m going to tell you anything about Gerald Moss’s account. And if Sheriff Brown wants to know more, he can get a warrant.” He stood, indicating the chit chat was over. “I’m sure you understand. We’ll see you on Friday.”
Angie tried to think of something to say that would change his mind, but finally, she stood and smiled. “I’m sure you’ll love The County Seat. We’re excited to be a destination restaurant for River Vista.”
And with that she left Mr. Harrold’s office. She’d tell Sheriff Brown about this when she met with him. As Angie passed by Martha, the woman held up one finger and whispered, “Wait for me outside.”
Angie nodded and went out the front, standing by the side of the building without any windows. When Martha emerged less than a minute later, she beelined straight to Angie. “I only have a minute. I told him I needed to use the little girls’ room. Which I do, so I can’t be long here.”
“What’s going on?”
“I heard you talking about Mr. Moss and the check. He came into the bank and cashed it at my window. I tried to talk him out of it, but he was so mad.” She shook her head at the memory. “He took the money, shoved it into the oth
er man’s hands and said ‘We’re done. You have your inheritance.’ I thought that was really strange, but Old Man Moss did some strange things, you know.”
“He gave ten thousand dollars in cash to who?” Angie thought she knew, but she wanted to hear the name. “Did you recognize who it was?”
“Of course, I tried to get him to just transfer the money into the other account, but he said he wanted cash. It almost emptied the vault, but it was close to end of day so Mr. Harrold said go ahead.” Martha looked at her watch and turned toward the entrance. “I really have to get back inside before he notices I’m gone.”
“Wait. Who did Mr. Moss give the money to?” Angie grabbed Martha’s arm as she started to turn.
“Why, Kirk Hanley. I’m sure you’ll meet him soon, if you haven’t already. He’s the veterinarian in town. I thought I said that.”
Angie dropped her hand and watched as Martha scurried inside the bank. The clues were adding up. And Kirk’s had been the name Mark Foreman had written on the sheet of paper.
She dialed the police station. “Is Sheriff Brown back yet?”
“Not yet, Angie.” This time the person on the other end of the line didn’t try to hide his impatience. “It’s been a crazy morning. He said he’d stop by your place as soon as he can.”
“Okay—wait, no. Tell him I’m at The County Seat. If he’s not there by the time I leave for home, I’ll call and let you know where I’ll be.”
She hung up the phone and drove to the parking lot behind her building. This didn’t prove Kirk had murdered Gerald Moss, but it was the most likely scenario. Had Kirk lost his inheritance and come back for more? It explained why Moss Farm had hired a new veterinarian. Things were clicking into place, but she knew it was all a theory. That she couldn’t prove.
Instead of worrying about it, she went to her kitchen and did what she always did when the world didn’t make sense. She cooked.
* * * *
“I didn’t know you were down here until I smelled the food. What are you making?” Felicia made her way across the kitchen to sit on a stool next to the expediter station.
“Chicken tacos. There was a couple of breasts in the fridge from my last experiment. How did you like the dish, by the way?”
“Yummy. Definitely a keeper.” She took a water out of the fridge. “You look stressed. What’s up? Is it the opening? I keep telling you that we’ll be fine. We have good people working for us. And you make amazing food.”
“I am nervous about the opening, but no. That’s not what has me cooking.” She pulled a rack of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and set four on a plate. Then she turned down the heat on the chicken strips and sat the plate at the chef’s table. She waved Felicia over. “Come and sit. We’ll have dessert first while I tell you what I think happened to Gerald Moss. Then we can eat lunch and hopefully, Sheriff Brown will be here by then.”
She made two mochas as she told Felicia about what she’d found out that morning. By the time she was done, they’d eaten most of the dozen cookies.
Finally, her friend sat back in her chair. “OMG. And I thought about dating the guy. Do you really think he could have killed Mr. Moss?”
“I don’t know, maybe it was an accident. Maybe he went back for more money and the old guy tried to run him off.” Angie went over to the stove to finish up the tacos. “All I know is if Ian didn’t know this, Sheriff Brown probably didn’t either. Those two seem to talk about everything.”
“I’m not sure how hungry I am.” Felicia took the cookie plate to the dishwasher station. “Those cookies were amazing.”
“We need real food too.” Angie thought about the many times her grandmother had told her the same thing. “Oh, and Ian thinks that maybe Moss told Nona where the treasure is at the farm.”
“Wait, there’s a treasure out at the farm?” Felicia grabbed another cookie and leaned against the counter, watching Angie cook. “And when are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and Ian? I need to know if it’s serious or not because a certain other someone asked me if you were dating anyone.”
The spatula hung in the air. “Who asked you about me?”
Felicia shrugged. “I didn’t tell him I wouldn’t say anything, so I guess I can spill. Estebe asked when he called to talk to you. I wasn’t sure if he was quitting or wanted to ask you out on a date.”
“Neither of which happened. Maybe he just wanted to be prepared in case he did consider asking me out.” Angie finished up the plates, slicing a fresh tomato and avocado on the side for a small salad. “Did you know they grow avocados here? I’m so excited for them to come into season later this summer.”
“You’re taking this farm-to-fork concept literal.” Felicia took her plate to the chef table. “So, now that you’ve solved the mystery, you’re going to focus on food?”
“Definitely.” Angie picked up the taco in the homemade tortilla she’d made earlier. “As of now, I’m back to being a chef, twenty-four seven.”
CHAPTER 22
When the Sheriff still hadn’t shown up after lunch, Angie called the station and asked to be transferred to his voice mail. She went through the basics she’d discovered. Then she told him if he wanted to talk to her, she’d be at home. After finishing that, she locked up the downstairs and hugged her friend. “Tell me you’re staying in tonight.”
“You know me, Monday night is when I catch up on the shows I missed during the weekend.” Felicia paused on the stairs. “I could pack a bag and we could do a girl’s night.”
“I’ll be fine. Besides, you do know I have a guard dog, just in case?” Angie pushed aside the fact it just took one person to casually mention she was looking into Moss’s murder and the small-town gossip chain could get the news back to Kirk
“Dom’s more likely to lick someone to death than actually protect you.”
Angie paused at the door. “His superpower is sitting on people. I can have the bad guy cornered and I’ll just have Dom sit on him until the police show up.”
When she got home, she saw Erica out in the yard, mowing. She parked and ignored Dom’s quick barks and crossed the street.
Erica turned off the mower when she saw Angie crossing the road. “What’s up neighbor?”
“Nothing much. I just wanted to let you and your grandmother know if that guy Kirk Hanley comes by when I’m not here, call the Sheriff. I think he’s looking for something.”
Erica’s eyes widened. “You think he’s trying to steal something? But he’s the vet!”
“I may be wrong, and if I am, I’ll be the first to apologize to him, but I don’t want him at the house if I’m not there. And you guys shouldn’t approach him either. I don’t think he has the best of intentions. So can you just keep away from him?” Angie hoped the woman wouldn’t ask more questions, and to her surprise, she didn’t.
“If you don’t trust him, I don’t trust him.” She grinned at Angie’s surprised look. “The residents of where the sidewalk ends have to stick together. There’s bad people out there in reality world.”
“Thanks and tell your grandmother hello.” Angie headed across the street to get her lecture on being gone too long from Dom.
He was at the door waiting when she unlocked the house. Then he greeted her with a yelp and as she bent down to his level. “Hey buddy. Have you been a good boy?” She followed him out to the back yard through the mud room. She sat on the step as he wandered through the yard and watched the butterflies flock around the flowers.
Standing, she popped back into the house and grabbed a bottle of water and Nona’s diary. She took a sip and opened the aging book. Nona had always kept a diary, since she could write. There were several journals in the box, waiting to be read. Sometimes the entry was just date, weather, and farm stuff. Often, Angie found a recipe. She took her own notebook and tore out a sheet of paper ripping out slips to mark the
recipes.
Were there enough recipes to make an actual cookbook? That would be an amazing project to work on and a beautiful tribute to her Nona. As she flipped through the pages, she wondered why she hadn’t read these journal entries before. They made her feel closer to Nona, not overwhelmed with grief, like she had been when she’d first come home.
She opened another journal and a piece of paper fell out. Glancing at it, she realized it was a map. She ran her finger down the river, then up the cliffs to a big X. If she didn’t know better, this looked like the trail where she’d been walking Dom. And the X was placed right at the spot where she’d seen the bunny disappear into the wall. She turned over the page. On the back, in Nona’s cursive handwriting was two words. Moss Farm.
“I think I found the treasure map.” Angie glanced at Dom who looked up from his nap he’d been taking at the bottom of the stairs while she read. She glanced at her watch. 4:00 p.m. If she hurried, she’d still have time before the sun set to see if the map really directed her to Gerald’s secret cheese cave.
She grabbed her backpack, shoved a couple of water bottles and a flash light, just in case and shot Felicia a short text. Taking Dom for a walk down on the canyon trail. I’ll text you when I’m back home.
Her phone beeped back Felicia’s response. Have fun and be safe. I’ll be watching for your text.
“Yes, mother.” Angie chuckled and tucked her phone into her pants pocket. She put Dom’s leash into the pack, just in case the trail was busy, but being a Monday, she didn’t think she’d run into anyone. Most of the trail runners were weekend warriors and back to their day jobs and weekday routines today. She, on the other hand, worked weekends and took off early in the week for her personal time. Or at least that would be the pattern once The County Seat opened on Friday.
Rolling her shoulders, she decided this was a great idea, even if the map didn’t prove to be anything. She needed the exercise after a long, crazy day. Carefully folding the map and tucking it into her pocket she grabbed her keys and they headed out for a quick walk.
