by B L Crumley
“This means,” Cole raised his voice, “that we will not be pressing charges until we know more. But there is the matter of the still. Mrs. Bailey, are you aware that it is a federal offense to distill alcohol without a permit?”
“Fern, don’t answer that,” I said sharply.
“And I take it you don’t have a permit?”
“No, I do not,” Fern stated bluntly.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Bailey, but legally I’m required to arrest you for the possession of an unregistered still.” Cole actually seemed sincere. He should feel bad, but part of me wondered if he actually cared.
“I understand,” Fern nodded.
“Well, I don’t.” I stepped forward, blocking the sheriff from my aunt. “Fern is a good person. This whole thing is ridiculous. Why can’t you let it go?” I hated that I sounded desperate. But let’s face it, I was. I didn’t want Fern to be dragged off in handcuffs.
“Because it’s the law.” Cole took a step toward me, hands fisted at his side. He lowered his voice. “Charlee, please don’t be difficult. It’s not like I want to do this.”
With him standing so close, I had to look up at him. “Then don’t,” I pleaded softly.
The scrape of Fern’s chair on the tile floor broke the moment. “Charlee, it’s fine. Your brother Noah will get this straightened out, and I’ll be home by lunch.” I didn’t know how she could sound so chipper.
“All right.” I stepped out of the way, as Cole motioned for Fern to go ahead of him. Thankfully, he didn’t cuff her. Out the living room window I could see the coroner van had arrived along with another police car. Cole opened the back door of an SUV with Sheriff emblazoned on the side.
What a day this was turning out to be. Returning to the kitchen, I found my phone on the counter and hurriedly dialed my brother.
“What do you mean you can’t do it?” I shrieked into the phone.
“I’m sorry, Charlee,” my brother Noah replied calmly, like he hadn’t a care in the world. At least not about his aunt, it seemed. “Ethan has a jujitsu match. I missed the last one because of work, and I promised that I’d make it to the next one.”
“Can’t you just go to the next one then?”
“No, Charlee, I can’t. I’m sorry. Fern will be fine,” he placated.
“No, Fern will not be fine.” I glanced out the window into the backyard and saw a black bag on a gurney being rolled through the yard. My stomach resumed its churning. “Okay, what about Dad? Aren’t you at their place for lunch right now?”
“Yeah, I just got here. And no, Dad can’t do it because his license is inactive. He’s retired, remember?”
“Dad is not retired. He’s the mayor,” I replied dramatically. Sometimes it felt like my dad thought he was the mayor of New York City, and not a small town on the Oregon Coast.
“Yeah, I know. He doesn’t like to let us forget it,” he chuckled. “Look, I’ll call Preston. I’m sure he’ll be available.”
“No,” I groaned. Preston Brooks was Noah’s partner at their small firm. He was a nice guy, if you liked the nerdy, socially awkward type. “I don’t think—”
“Charlee, Preston handles most of the criminal stuff in our office anyway. He’s got way more experience with this than me, and is the best one for the job.”
“Fern’s not a criminal,” I corrected.
“I know, but she’s being charged with a crime.” My brother was starting to get impatient.
“Fine. Is Preston still single?” I asked, then immediately regretted opening my mouth.
Noah laughed. “Yeah. Why, you interested?”
I knew that was coming. “No.”
The last time I saw Preston was two years ago at a Christmas event at my parents. He clung to my side like gum on the bottom of my shoe for three hours. Longest evening of my life.
“He really is a nice guy,” Noah jibed. “He’s smart, financially stable, loyal—”
“And nerdy and six inches shorter than me,” I finished for him.
“Charlee, you shouldn’t be discriminating against someone because of their height,” he feigned offense. “Actually, if you want tall, I hear the sheriff is—”
“Stop!” I’d had enough of this conversation. “Okay, call Preston, and tell him I’ll meet him at the station.”
“Will do. Bye, Sis.”
“Bye.” I ended the call, then wished I would have asked Noah not to give Preston my number. I would hate to be forced to do something rude like block him.
Unfortunately, less than ten minutes later, I received a text from Preston, saying he would meet me at the police station in a half hour.
When I arrived at the station, Preston was already sitting on a bench in the lobby. Wearing khakis and a long-sleeve dress shirt with an argyle sweater vest, he looked at least a decade older than he was, which was close to forty, I think. He stood and came to greet me, smiling so wide, I thought his face might split open.
Great. Here we go again.
“Charlee.” He extended his hand, and I reluctantly took it. “It is so good to see you. Why, you just get prettier all the time.” Glancing up at me through his thick-rimmed glasses, I did my best to muster a smile. He was here to help Fern. And boy, did we need help.
“Thank you,” I replied sweetly. “So, what’s the plan of attack?” I figured if I didn’t get to the point, Preston would be making moon eyes at me the rest of the afternoon.
Preston blinked several times, like he was trying to clear his head. “Well, I think this should be relatively simple. Your aunt doesn’t have a record, and she’s well known and liked in the community, so I believe there’s a good chance she’ll be released on her own recognizance.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“But she has been charged with a felony that can carry up to a five-year prison term—”
“Five years!” I yelped. “Okay, we need to go find Fern fast and get her out of here.”
Preston patted my arm. “It’ll be all right. I’ll get this sorted out, Charlee.”
I stood motionless as he consoled me, grateful when he left and went to the reception desk. He returned a minute later, and motioned for me to follow. “The sheriff has agreed to see us.”
My shoulders slumped. I didn’t want to see Cole again, at least not today, but I shuffled behind Preston as we made our way to the sheriff’s office.
Cole was seated at his desk, staring at a computer screen. When we entered, his eyes found mine, and I sensed some compassion, warming my insides. He also looked tired. This had to be a stressful job.
“Charlee, Mr. Brooks,” Cole gestured with his hand for us to sit in the chairs on the other side of the desk. “I take it you’re here about Fern.”
“Yes,” Preston answered in his formal lawyer voice. “Due to Mrs. Bailey’s exemplary character, and no criminal record, I request that she be released on her own recognizance.”
“Sorry, I can’t do that.” Cole leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest.
“Why not?” I started to rise, but Preston put his hand on my leg, silently ordering me to stand down.
Cole’s nostrils flared. His fuse seemed awfully short, but then maybe it was just me. I needed to tone it down. I wanted Cole as an ally, not an enemy.
“Because Mrs. Bailey has been charged with a felony. She needs to be arraigned before a judge so bail can be set,” Cole explained.
“But it’s Sunday,” I blurted, my mind racing at what that meant. “You can’t keep Fern in jail overnight!”
Cole stared at me for several seconds before he spoke. I wondered if he was counting in his head to try and temper his annoyance. “I can.”
“Charlee,” Preston turned to me. “Why don’t you go wait in the lobby?” He was still using that lawyer voice, and I sensed he did not want to be argued with.
“All right,” I stood and looked at Cole. “I’m just worried about my aunt. I feel like this is just a big misunderstanding that has gotten out of hand. I’m sorry if I’ve made it worse.” Moving my gaze to the floor, I hurriedly strode to the door and down the hall to the lobby.
A while later, I’m not sure how long because I was lost in thought staring at the cracks in the floor tiles, I heard a door at the end of the hall open. I looked up and saw Fern and Preston walking toward me. Jumping up from the bench, I raced down the corridor and hugged my aunt.
“Oh, I’m so glad to see you! Are you okay?” I released my aunt and took a good look at her.
“I’m fine, Charlee,” Fern grinned. “But ready to be out of this place. I missed lunch, and I’m starving.”
“Perfect, I haven’t eaten either. Let’s go home and I’ll make you something.” For the first time that day, the boulder that had been pressing on my heart lifted. I knew this wasn’t over, but it was a good start. We continued walking, and I looked over at Preston.
“Preston, I don’t know what you said, but thank you,” I expressed sincerely, seeing the nerdy attorney in a different light. He still wasn’t the guy for me, but he was a good man.
“Just doing my job, Charlee,” he winked. “But if you’d like to thank me, maybe we could have dinner sometime.”
Okay, so he still had a crush on me. At the moment, I didn’t care.
Chapter Five
“W hat are you doing up so early?” Fern asked from behind a newspaper, where she sat at the kitchen table. Moose took that as his cue to leap on the antique oak table, and began kneading his paws on the paper.
As a chef, I winced at the thought of those filthy cat paws on any eating surface, but I held my tongue. It wasn’t my house. And after the ordeal yesterday, Moose’s contaminated mitts were the least of my worries.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I mumbled, heading straight for the coffee pot.
“Me either.” Fern gave up on reading the paper and opted to pet her chubby cat instead. “Do you have to head back today?”
“Actually, I took a few days off work.” I padded to the sink to fill the coffee pot. “I wasn’t sure if the police would have any other questions for me, and to be honest I’m worried about leaving you here in case they come back to arrest you again. Preston said you would still have to appear before a judge unless the charges are dropped, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“That’s very sweet of you, Charlee, but I’ll be fine.” The nervous edge in her tone wasn’t convincing me of anything. “Besides, my brother is the mayor. How bad could it get?”
“Now I know you’re lying.” I reached for a mug while my coffee was brewing. “My self-righteous father wouldn’t hesitate to throw any of us under the bus if it served his purpose.”
“Charlee,” my aunt’s hand flew over her heart dramatically. “I can’t believe you would say such a thing.”
I smirked. “You know I’m right.”
“Yeah, you are,” she agreed candidly. “So, what are we going to do to fix this?”
“Well, how I see it, we have two problems. First, we don’t know who killed Earl, and with all the circumstantial evidence pointing to you, I worry the cops may not search very hard to find any additional suspects. And second, the felony charge for the still, which I think is completely ridiculous. But I’m not optimistic the sheriff is going to budge on that.”
“Then it looks like we should focus on figuring out who killed Earl.” Fern gave Moose another pat, then took a sip of her tea. I had a feeling it might be “special” this morning. “Because other than bribing the sheriff, I’m not sure we have a lot of options there.”
I snorted. “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. I’m beginning to think Cole might be the type that irons his underwear.”
Fern’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, so you’re thinking about the man in his underwear. Not that I blame you. He is—”
“No!” I denied vehemently, because I hadn’t been, at least not until Fern mentioned it. “I’m saying he’s uptight, anal, and a stickler for the rules.”
“I know,” Fern snickered. “I just like to tease you. Although, I bet he looks nice in his—”
“Fern! We need to focus.” I poured some creamer in my coffee (no whipped cream for me today) and sat down across from my aunt. “I think we should come up with some alternative suspects and go from there. It also might help if I knew more about the sheriff.”
My aunt gave me a look.
“Not because I’ve got the hots for him,” I clarified. “But maybe I can think of another angle to approach this moonshine issue.”
“Sounds good to me.” Fern reached for Moose and set him on the floor, which was a testament to her strength since he weighed as much as a sack of flour. “I know just the person we should talk to.”
“That’s great! Who?”
“My neighbor, Walter.”
I scrunched my nose. “Is that the guy that likes to click his false teeth?”
“Funny how you would remember something like that since I’m not even sure you’ve met him.”
“Yes, I have, once. Two years ago. And I’ll never forget it,” I shuddered. “It was more grating than fingernails on a chalkboard.”
“Well, hon, you’d better prepare yourself then,” she laughed. “Walter listens to the scanner most of the time, or he’s at Lulu’s Steamin’ Beans. He’s in the know.”
“Okay, give me fifteen minutes to get ready and then we can go see Walter.” I slid back my chair and stood.
“Better make it thirty minutes. It’s only six-thirty. If we show up before seven, we risk Walter not having his pants on yet.”
One glance at my aunt and I realized she was serious. I’d forgotten how early it was, and I was not one to risk that kind of trauma. “Let’s make it an hour.”
A little past seven-thirty, Fern and I made our way on foot to Walter Long’s place. He lived in a small bungalow about a block and a half down the hill from Fern. With weathered gray cedar shake siding, and a cobblestone path leading up to the front porch, the house had a charming quaint coastal feel. Not what I expected from a crusty retired fisherman.
Fern gave the door several hard raps. “Walter, it’s Fern; we need to talk. You decent?” She tilted her head to look at me. “Better safe than sorry.”
I nodded my agreement. Muffled footsteps sounded before the door flung open. “Fern,” Walter mumbled, and waved us in. “Gotta get my teeth.” His lips made a series of popping noises.
Well, at least he had pants on. Fern and I made ourselves comfortable in his small living room.
“That’s better,” he said more clearly, plopping down in a recliner. Walter was a small man, and the chair seemed to swallow him up. His baggy jeans would have fallen off if not for the suspenders, worn over a tucked-in plaid flannel. He looked more like a lumberjack.
“I’m guessing you’re here to talk about Earl.” He leaned back in his chair, extending the footrest. “But first, who’s the pretty young thing you brought with you?” Walter openly gaped at me, and waggled his white bushy eyebrows.
Okay, this guy was officially weird.
“Walter, this is my niece, Charlee. You’ve met her before, but you probably just don’t remember.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. I never forget a pretty face,” he scratched his chin, stubbled with several days of growth.
“Walter,” I smiled. “We were hoping you could tell us something about Earl. Have you heard anything? Do you know of anyone who may have wanted to kill him?”
“Ain’t it usually the wife?” Walter clicked his false teeth, and I forced myself not to cringe.
“Were they having problems in their marriage?” I asked.
“Doesn’t everyone?” He clicked his teeth again.
I did my bes
t to ignore the grating sound. “Enough to kill him?”
“Not sure. I heard that they were going to move, and that they were having money problems. Being that Earl worked in insurance his whole life, I would guarantee there’s an insurance policy. Now that Earl’s out of the picture, Patty is a free woman, with money.” He waggled his bushy brows at me again. “How about that for a motive?”
Static and garbled voices erupted from the kitchen. The police scanner. Between that and the false teeth, I wasn’t sure how long I was going to make it here.
“Fern, had you heard they might be moving?” I shifted in the worn loveseat to look at my aunt.
“Yeah, at the hairdresser’s around a month ago,” Fern replied. “But I take everything I hear there with a grain of salt. I do remember Patty mentioned wanting to live in Arizona sometime in the past year or so. To be honest, we didn’t talk very much. She kept to herself.”
“Okay, so it’s possible Patty could have killed Earl for an insurance payout,” I hypothesized.
Fern thought a second. “Possible, but not likely. I never heard any yelling or fights or anything that would lead me to believe they didn’t get along.”
“It’s the quiet ones you have to look out for,” Walter chimed in.
“Walter, is there anyone else Earl may have had a beef with?” I asked.
“Maybe his old insurance partner. Earl sold out to him some years back when he retired, and I heard there was bad blood over the deal.”
Finally, something that might be useful. I guess I could put up with more clicking dentures if it would help us clear Fern’s name.
“Any details?” I probed further.
The scanner came to life again.
Walter raised his voice to talk over it. “I heard Earl didn’t get what he wanted out of the business. He’d been doing it for over thirty years, and thought it would be worth more. But his partner, Russell, wasn’t willing to pay it. Since there wasn’t anyone else interested in buying it, Earl gave in.”
“Is Russell still in business?”
“Yes, he’s at least a decade younger than Earl. I think he does pretty well, but I hear he’s a cheapskate,” Fern said.
