by Cindy Sample
“Okay, I can wait until then for your explanation. But it better be a good one.”
Jenna mumbled something into the phone. Seconds later, her father was back on the line.
“Can you tell me what Jenna’s been doing?” I asked him.
He paused for a minute. “Let’s just say she was trying to follow in her mother’s footsteps.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Once Tom heard that Jenna was fine and would arrive shortly with her father, he prepared to take his leave. Tom and Hank hadn’t exactly bonded. Hank had an annoying ability to appear on the rare occasions when Tom and I were together. Or it could possibly be due to Tom arresting my ex-husband four months earlier.
“Sorry about ruining our date,” I apologized to Tom as we stood together in the foyer, his arms around me.
“I’m glad I could be here to support you,” he replied. “And there’s always next time.”
“Now that you mention it, when will you be home again? Are you almost done with the task force?” I reached up and stroked his bushy beard. “Does your new Paul Bunyan look have anything to do with work? Or are you aiming for a spot on Duck Dynasty?”
Tom laughed, his teeth gleaming white behind his dark beard.
“Yes, I grew this facial hair so I could go undercover. Which means I don’t know when we’ll wrap up this case. I’m meeting Bradford in the morning to discuss the investigation with him.”
“Make sure Mother isn’t around when you two chat. When Bradford first discussed helping you, she looked ready to blow an entire fuse box. ”
“One of the reasons Bradford would be valuable to us is that he has experience, but since he’s not currently on the force, he hopefully won’t be recognizable.” Tom rubbed his beard. “I’m hoping for that type of anonymity as well.”
“Dating a cop has some serious drawbacks. I’m going to worry about you until you’re back safe and sound where you belong.”
“Now you can relate to how I’ve felt in the past when you went chasing after killers. Good thing I don’t have to worry about you getting mixed up in Thorson’s murder.” He peered down at me. “I don’t, do I?”
“Nope, there is no reason for me to be involved.” Although I could guarantee my grandmother and Nina held a different opinion. But Tom had his own worrisome case to attend to. He certainly didn’t need to brood over my activities.
Tom’s taillights were a distant gleam when I noticed headlights approaching my house. An older black Ford F-150 roared up my driveway. Hank’s ancient truck needed some muffler work. Jenna jumped out of the passenger side, grabbed her backpack and oboe, and made her way to the front door where I stood, arms folded. Hank trailed in her wake.
With her long-lashed eyes downcast, Jenna attempted to brush past me, but I was heavier and definitely angrier.
“March into the kitchen, young lady,” I said. “We are going to talk.”
Jenna mumbled something about visiting the bathroom first, so I gave her permission to complete that mission. Hank joined me in the foyer.
“Okay if I stick around for your inquisition?” he asked. “Jenna may need some moral support.”
“Sure. Whatever.” I walked away, and he followed me into the kitchen.
“Am I interrupting something?” Hank pointed to the two empty wine glasses on the counter next to the sink.
“Nope.” My ex didn’t need to be informed about my love life––or lack thereof. Jenna trudged into the kitchen looking like she was headed for the guillotine. She sat in one of the empty chairs, folded her arms on the table surface then rested her head on top of them.
“Jenna, do you want some water or something to eat?” My first concern was her health and safety. Then her interrogation could begin.
“No, Dad fed us.”
“Us?” My eyebrows and voice both lifted.
Jenna threw her father a look, but he chose to ignore her. Instead, he opened a glass-fronted cabinet and pulled out a wine glass. He poured himself a glass of chardonnay from the open bottle sitting on the counter.
“Hey,” I protested. It always annoyed me when Hank made himself at home. Just because this had been his home at one time.
“No point having it go to waste,” he said. “Want some?”
I said no and turned back to my daughter. “Explain.”
“Okay. I ran into Eric Thorson before band practice today. Even if he’s been a jerk, I still felt bad about his dad, so I wanted to see how he was doing.”
I nodded, pleased with my daughter’s solicitousness.
“When I brought up the subject of Tony’s arrest, Eric went off on me. He said terrible things about Tony and told me he was going to fire Nina. That it was all her fault his father was dead.”
“What? That doesn’t make sense.”
“He was acting all crazy. Shouting and scaring me.” She trembled in recollection. “I finally told him I had to go to practice and said goodbye. Eric left to meet his mother at the funeral home.”
“People grieve in different ways,” I explained to Jenna. “Eric most likely feels angry about his father’s murder, so it’s not surprising he’s lashed out at Tony, especially if he assumes Tony killed Axel. I’m stunned that he wants to fire Nina though. She’s worked at the farm even longer than Eric’s father. It won’t be easy finding someone to step in and manage the bakery.”
“When I told Tony what Eric threatened, he freaked out.”
“How could you talk to Tony?” I asked. “He’s in jail.”
Jenna slowly shook her tangled curls. “Not anymore. They released him late last night. I guess they didn’t have enough evidence to keep him.”
“And you know this how?”
She hung her head so low her heart-shaped chin rested on her chest. I leaned over the table and lifted her chin up until her eyes met mine.
“Tony called me this afternoon and said they let him go. Then he asked for my help.”
“What kind of help?”
“To prove he’s innocent.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Jenna, what were you thinking?” I asked. “You can’t get involved in a murder investigation.”
“See, I told you,” Hank interjected. “Following in her mother’s footsteps.”
Jenna and I both glared at Hank who mimed zipping his lip. Hah. We’d see how long that would last.
“Start at the beginning and don’t stop until I say you’re done,” I ordered her.
Jenna’s words rushed out as she explained how Tony had left a message for her while she was at band practice. When she called him back and shared her conversation with Eric, they agreed to meet. Tony picked her up from the high school and together they devised a plan.
Since Axel had fired Tony so abruptly the previous Saturday, Tony still retained the key to the cider house. Jenna occasionally worked the six a.m. shift so she possessed a key to the bakery. The two teenagers decided to team up and visit Apple Tree Farm after it closed. She knew Eric and Dorie would be occupied at the funeral home, so they didn’t have to worry about any family members discovering them.
“Jenna, what is wrong with you?” I asked, horrified by her admission. “That’s breaking and entering.”
“Technically, it’s not,” Hank inserted into the conversation. “They both had keys.”
I leveled a look at him.
“But it was still a really bad idea,” he told her. “What if someone caught the two of you?”
My mind reeled from Jenna’s disclosure. “So what happened? And how did you end up at your father’s house tonight?”
“We arrived at Apple Tree a little before six. They’d placed a sawhorse at the entrance, I guess to keep people out at night, but we moved it just enough for Tony’s car to get through. He has one of those old VW Bugs so they don’t take up much space.”
“Weren’t you worried some of the staff might still be there?” I asked.
“We figured if anyone saw us I could explain that I left m
y phone in the bakery last weekend.”
I nodded. Not bad, although I hoped my hitherto honest daughter wasn’t acquiring a new skill set of devising white lies.
“Tony wanted to prove he didn’t steal any money, and I hoped we’d find clues as to who killed Axel.” Jenna’s eyes locked on mine. “I thought you’d be proud of me, Mom. Plus it would provide a topic for my college essay on why I want to be a criminologist.”
Oh, dear. I was such a bad role model for my children.
“Honey, I’m proud of everything you do, usually,” I replied. “But not this time. This was a stupid and reckless stunt. And even if Tony is Nina’s grandson, you barely know the boy.”
Her full-lipped mouth set in a firm line. “Gran said I have good instincts. Said maybe she’d change the name of your detective agency from TWO GALS to THREE GALS. How come you didn’t tell me you formed a detective agency?”
“We did not form a detective agency,” I said through gritted teeth. I would be calling my grandmother immediately after this conversation. “So did you find anything to help clear Tony’s name?”
Jenna’s face brightened briefly before it clouded over again. “Yes, well, maybe. We ran across a daily log of sales volumes and dollar totals, but it didn’t really tell us anything. Then I decided to go through the trash can.”
“That was smart,” Hank said.
I wished he would stop encouraging Jenna in her investigative pursuits.
“Smart but messy. Lots of sticky napkins coated with cider.” Jenna shivered. “I hope it was cider. I didn’t discover anything inside the garbage, but Tony noticed a yellow sticky note stuck to the bottom of the can.”
“And?” I had to admit her story intrigued me.
My dramatically inclined daughter perked up now that two parents were riveted to her words. “The sticky was addressed to Brent, the farm manager,” she explained.
“I’ve met him,” I said. “So what did the note say?”
“It said––BRENT, MEET ME 6 AM SUN RE THEFT.” Her eyes sparkled. “And it was signed AT.”
Jenna seemed so excited about her discovery I hated to burst her bubble.
“What do you and Tony think that note meant?” I asked.
“Well, at first we got excited thinking Axel was accusing Brent of stealing the money from the cider house. Then we realized that theory didn’t make a lot of sense. Why would Brent bother to steal a few hundred dollars? But since their meeting would have been the day after Axel fired Tony, he must have discovered something important. Maybe after Tony drove away on Saturday. We just don’t know what it was.”
“Did you check out the bakery, too?”
“We locked up the cider house and were ready to hit the bakery next when Tony noticed Brent’s red camper truck on Carson Road about to turn down the drive. We jumped in Tony’s car and took off.”
I mulled over the extent of their investigating. The sticky note wasn’t sufficient evidence to prove Tony wasn’t stealing, nor would it clear him as a killer. But since he no longer resided in the county lockup, the District Attorney must not have a strong enough case to prosecute. Yet.
“Where’s your phone?” I asked.
Jenna slumped in her chair, her long legs stretched in front of her. “I must have left it on the counter. When Tony spotted Brent’s car we took off. I grabbed my backpack but forgot I’d taken my phone out in case I needed to photograph some evidence.”
Jenna’s penchant for crime shows had paid off. She was smart enough to realize the importance of recording proof of Tony’s innocence. Unfortunately, she’d now provided Detective Reynolds with new evidence.
My maternal side warred with my disciplinary side. Should I hug my daughter or ground her for a few weeks? Or years?
Her heart was in the right place even if her head wasn’t thinking clearly. “You are incredibly lucky you weren’t caught,” I said. “But how did you end up at Dad and Gran’s house?”
“Tony’s car broke down just as we entered the Placerville city limits. He coasted until he could find a safe place to pull over. We called Dad and asked him to come get us.”
“Where’s Tony now?”
“He’s at Gran’s house waiting for Nina to pick him up,” Jenna said.
Knowing the way my grandmother operated, she was probably trying to talk Tony into joining her new firm––now named THREE GALS AND A GUY DETECTIVE AGENCY.
I couldn’t decide how to deal with Jenna’s extracurricular activities, so I told her to go to her room while her father and I discussed the situation. She left the kitchen without food and without protest. Seconds later her bedroom door slammed shut.
“What should we do?” I asked Hank.
He shrugged. “Jenna’s a good kid. And she means well. You can’t blame her for having a big heart and trying to help someone.”
“She’s lucky this didn’t turn out worse. What if Tony is Axel’s killer?”
“C’mon, do you really think Jenna’s instincts are that far off? Tony looks like a nice enough kid.”
I sighed. “Yes, he does, but isn’t that what they said about Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Given Jenna’s exemplary record, Hank and I decided to let her off the hook with a strict warning to leave the investigating to the authorities. Her priorities were school and the SAT. No other distractions, especially teenagers who resembled celebrity heartthrobs.
Hank left around eight, a few minutes before Mother arrived with Ben. I sent my son up to his room to don his pajamas. Jenna clomped down the stairs and joined Mother and me in the kitchen.
“Am I grounded?” Jenna asked me.
“You certainly should be, young lady,” Mother chastised her. “Worrying me to death. I swear I sprouted ten new gray hairs while I waited for you.”
Jenna and I stifled matching smiles. The odds of my mother and her stylist allowing one gray hair to mar her platinum coiffure were slim.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Jenna apologized. Her eyes widened suddenly. “What about my phone? How do I explain leaving it in the cider house?”
“Good question,” I said, stumped for a minute how to solve that problem. “I guess I could drop by Apple Tree Farm when they first open. I’ll claim your phone belongs to me.” I eyed my daughter. “And since I’m footing the bill, it does.”
“Have I told you lately you’re the best mother ever?” Jenna threw her arms around my neck nearly suffocating me in her exuberance. Considering her light disciplinary sentence, she was right.
The next morning, I woke Jenna fifteen minutes earlier than usual so she could make both kids’ lunches. I might as well take advantage of my daughter’s apologetic state since it wouldn’t last for long. I dropped the kids off at their respective schools then drove up to Apple Tree Farm yet again.
The previous evening, I’d called Nina to explain Jenna’s phone dilemma. She promised to go into the cider house and retrieve it before Brent or anyone else noticed it on the premises.
While en route, Nina left a message stating the phone was in her possession. Once I’d recovered Jenna’s cell, I could visit some of the other farms on my list.
I drove down the long road leading to Apple Tree Farm. It was still early so only a few cars were parked in the visitor lot. I pulled into a compact spot, grabbed my purse and slid out of the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind me. The black flats I wore crunched their way across the graveled lot. Inside the barn-like structure, the tables and chairs remained empty except for Detective Reynolds and Axel’s widow, Dorie Thorson.
They both glanced in my direction as I hustled across the floor. Although I wanted to pay my respects to the widow, the last thing I needed was an early morning grilling from the detective. Reynolds evidently didn’t feel the same. She beckoned me over to their table. “Ms. McKay, please join us,” she commanded.
I gazed longingly at the bakery counter where Nina stood, her left hand clutching my
daughter’s cell, her eyes fearful. I sent her a reassuring smile and joined Dorie and the detective.
Reynolds patted the chair next to her as if she were my new BFF, wanting to catch up on our gossip. I glanced at my watch before sitting down. Reynolds noted my movement. “In a hurry?” she asked.
“I need to make some sales calls, but I can spare a couple of minutes.” I switched my attention to Dorie. “I’m so sorry for your loss. How are you holding up?”
The new widow resembled a pale imitation of her normally bright-eyed, blond perky self. She blinked twice, but her eyes remained dry. I imagined she’d cried gallons of tears in the past week.
“I’m okay,” she said, although her appearance belied her words. “A lot of decisions need to be made about the operation of this place, and I’m not used to making them.”
“Hopefully Nina and Brent can provide some guidance for you,” I said.
Detective Reynolds shifted her attention to me. “I didn’t realize you and Nina were such good friends.”
“Oh, um, yes.” I said, wary of anything the detective asked me. I decided it couldn’t hurt to elaborate. “She and my grandmother have been pals for years.”
Reynolds merely nodded, but Dorie perked up and asked, “How does Jenna like working in the bakery?”
Other than the early hours, Dorie’s son harassing her and Axel dropping dead last weekend, Jenna liked it just fine.
“She enjoys the customer contact.”
“That’s good,” Dorie replied. “I was worried she wouldn’t come back to work this weekend, and we’re short staff. Emily gave her notice yesterday. Said she was afraid there was a serial killer out to get all the employees. And, of course, Tony’s no longer employed here.”
“It’s such a heartbreaking situation,” I said. “You must be wondering who could have done such a thing.”
“I’ve wracked my brain trying to think of anyone who wanted Axel dead.” Dorie looked at Reynolds. “I was surprised you arrested Tony. I don’t know the young man very well, but it’s difficult for me to imagine him murdering Axel just because he was fired.”
