“Quite a get-together you’ve got here,” Stan said.
Piper liked Stan, even when he jumped to cringeworthy conclusions about her, such as assuming she and Will were ready to tie the knot and buy a house together. “I’m amazed and delighted with the turnout,” she said, looking up at the lanky Realtor. Piper thought his eyes appeared a bit sunken and shadowed and hoped those possible signs of stress weren’t business related. Sugar had mentioned that Stan was one of the few resisters of Jeremy Porter’s buyout offers. Porter’s mega-realty operation moving into the area couldn’t help but affect Stan’s small office.
“Never one to pass up a party,” Stan said with a grin that seemed slightly forced. He selected one of Piper’s cheese-and-pickle-topped crackers and had just popped it in his mouth when Emma Leahy tugged at his arm.
“Stan! What can you tell me about the old Hopkins place going up for sale?”
Piper watched Stan struggle to answer without choking as the two edged away in the continuing flow of the crowd. She heard the strum of a guitar in her back room and lit up. Nate had jokingly agreed to entertain but Piper hadn’t dared to hope he was serious. Apparently he was, as the door to the back opened and Nate’s clear tenor voice rang out with a rendition of the eighties song “Celebration.”
To her amazement, most of the crowd, whose ages ranged from early twenties to way past sixty, quickly joined in. Nate carried it on for several verses, finally ending to claps and cheers. It was the perfect way to top off the party!
Nobody would let Nate stop there and he was besieged with requests, which he cheerfully responded to, gradually moving through the crowd and out onto the sidewalk. It was marvelous and Piper saw grins on every face within view.
Things suddenly quieted, though, as sirens sounded. Heads swiveled to watch flashing lights in the distance, but as the lights faded away, attention returned to the party. Only Aunt Judy’s expression remained worried, and she made her way over to Piper.
“Where do you suppose that ambulance was heading?” When Piper shrugged helplessly, she added, “Old Mr. Winkler hasn’t been too well lately. I hope he hasn’t taken a sudden turn.”
“No, Judy,” Emma Leahy leaned over to say, then pointed to a middle-aged woman in a paisley dress. “Patsy Winkler is over there. She’d certainly have heard if it was her father.”
Aunt Judy nodded, only partly soothed. Piper knew her aunt’s mind was running over a mental list of vulnerable Cloverdale residents. To distract her, since there was really nothing she could do, Piper asked, “How are your meatballs holding out? They’ve been pretty popular.”
“Oh! I meant to bring out more from your refrigerator. There’s been quite a few new arrivals. I’ll do a quick warmup in the microwave.” Aunt Judy scurried off and Piper hailed the next guests who’d made it into the shop, needing to raise her voice over the singing, as all thoughts of the sirens were forgotten.
Ben Schaeffer arrived and before locating Erin made a point to advise Piper that the noise level of her party might be a violation of a Cloverdale ordinance. Besides his insurance agency work, Ben took his volunteer auxiliary officer duties highly seriously, which had sometimes strained Piper’s patience. That evening, though, Piper simply smiled and pointed out Amy’s father, Sheriff Carlyle, who was gamely swaying to the music along with his daughter and her friends.
“I think we’re good, Ben, but thanks. Chicken wrap?”
Ben helped himself without further comment and left to work his way toward Erin.
Piper waved at Will, who’d been caught in a far corner of the shop, and indicated the still-brimming trays of food, signaling that he should come get his fill. He nodded but as he began winding through the crowd, Piper caught a familiar voice. Scott Littleton was heading her way from the opposite direction. Will had been wonderfully patient about giving Piper time to sort out her feelings but a face-to-face meeting with her former fiancé in such close quarters might be asking too much. Piper slipped out from behind her counter to intercept Scott.
“Hey, there you are!” Scott had changed from his lawyer suit and tie to more casual wear and Piper recognized the plaid shirt she had given him when they were still a couple. Had he purposely chosen it? she wondered. Then she reminded herself it had become a favorite of Scott’s ages ago and decided he’d probably long forgotten its original source.
“Quite a shindig this turned out to be!” Scott said, raising his voice above the din. “I never heard of a grand opening for a door—hey, a grand door-opening!” He laughed at his little joke. “But it certainly drew a crowd.”
“I’m not sure if it was interest in Ralph’s door that brought everyone. For some it may have been interest in our food. But either way, it’s turned out to be a lot of fun.”
“Speaking of food . . .” Scott began, and Piper glanced back to see Will standing near the sandwich trays, his back to them.
“Start with Amy’s fantastic dips,” she advised Scott, firmly turning him to the opposite side of the shop. “Then work your way around.”
As Scott followed her suggestion, Piper headed over to Will, who by then had loaded his plate. As he turned at her shoulder touch, she said, “Let’s step outside for a minute.”
“Fine with me.”
Piper grabbed a plastic cup of iced tea and led the way to a spot that was close enough to enjoy Nate’s music but quiet enough to talk without shouting. Piper took a deep breath and felt her adrenaline level, which had momentarily spiked at Scott’s arrival, level out.
“How long do you suppose this will go on?” Will asked. He bit into one of Piper’s crisp dill pickles.
“Probably until the food runs out.” Piper grinned. “Maybe we shouldn’t have put out quite so much?”
“If it gets to be a problem, I’ll be happy to help it disappear.”
They listened as Nate finished his latest song, then heard the sound of metal tapping on glass—the universal signal for attention. As the crowd quieted, Megan Schaeffer’s voice rang out.
“It’s time to cut the cake,” she announced. “Piper, where are you?” she asked. “Want to come do the honors?”
“Go ahead, Megan. Or Aunt Judy is an expert cake cutter, if you’d rather not.” Piper called from her doorway. If Sugar Heywood had come, she would have asked her to cut it and reap the compliments she richly deserved for her culinary creation. Piper suddenly realized she hadn’t seen Zach since shortly after he arrived. He must have slipped out early without her noticing.
Megan nodded. “Okay, we’ll collectively cut it in a moment. But first I propose we all raise our glasses in a toast to Ralph Strawbridge and his absolutely beautiful hand-carved door!”
“Hear, hear!” several voices called out, and Piper, along with many others, raised her glass in tribute to Ralph. Although all the glasses were filled with iced tea or sodas, the enthusiasm reached champagne height.
“Speech!” someone called, and others echoed that, chanting and clapping in rhythm until Ralph laughingly gave in.
“Thank you all,” he said. “And thanks to all the wonderful ladies for this excellent spread.” After the cheers that followed had died down, he added, “But none of this would have happened without Piper Lamb, who commissioned the door in the first place, and who—”
A cell phone rang, causing Ralph to pause and dozens of heads to turn in its direction. Piper saw Sheriff Carlyle lift his phone to his ear. The crowd remained silent, watching as the sheriff’s face turned grim. He said a few words, then pocketed the phone and rapidly made his way out of the shop without comment. All eyes followed as the sheriff jumped into his parked car, then sped off, his lights flashing.
“Oh, dear,” Aunt Judy quietly voiced what everyone was likely thinking. “Something must be very wrong.”
7
After Sheriff Carlyle made his dramatic exit, the party continued on but in a much more subdued m
anner. The cake was cut and distributed, Nate’s lively music morphed into softer ballads, and former revelers hummed along softly. As the cake disappeared, so did the partygoers, one by one. Piper was sure the thoughts of many were on the emergency that had called the sheriff away, as were hers.
The suspense lingered until the next morning when Piper rose early to finish cleanup. Leftover food had been distributed or refrigerated the night before and trash gathered and hauled off, but shop countertops needed polishing and merchandise had to be returned to its proper place. Piper was retrieving a box of canning jars from her back room when she heard taps at her alley door. She raised the shade to reveal Gil Williams on the stoop. Piper quickly turned the lock.
“I just learned what happened last night and thought you’d want to know,” he said, stepping inside as Piper opened the door.
“What is it?” Piper asked. Gil’s look was grim and she braced herself.
“The ambulance we heard rushed Dirk Unger to the hospital. Unfortunately, he died there.”
“Gosh, I’m sorry to hear that. But why was the sheriff involved?”
“From what I understand, Unger at first appeared to be suffering from cardiac arrest. But later they came to suspect poison.”
“Poison!” Piper backed toward a stool and sat down. Her thoughts raced. “Any chance it could have been accidental?”
Gil shook his head. “I don’t have any details. I imagine more testing and investigation needs to be done.”
“Yes.” Piper looked up at Gil worriedly. “But if it turns out to be murder . . .” Piper couldn’t voice what she most feared.
“No use worrying until all the facts come out,” Gil said. He rubbed his hands together as though they’d suddenly become cold and Piper felt chilled as well. “I’ll let you know if I hear more.”
“Thanks, Gil.” Piper let Gil out and relocked her back door. She turned away, feeling stunned by the news, and wondered if she should call anyone. When Gil first mentioned poison in connection with Unger, her thoughts had instantly flown to Sugar Heywood. Unfairly, surely, but if Piper’s thoughts had gone in that direction, others’ would have, too.
If last night’s suspense was bad, Piper was sure the next round of waiting was going to beat that by a mile.
Piper had opened up for business and was idly leafing through her invoices when she noticed a woman standing outside her new front door. After several moments the woman, whose apple-red cheeks echoed her overall roundish shape, walked in, calling out a cheery “Good morning!”
Piper, whose mood had been stuck at gray, suddenly felt like a bit of sunshine had peeked through the clouds.
“I missed the party last night,” the woman said, “so I came by to see the new door for myself. I love it! I’m Tammy Butterworth, by the way,” she said, extending her hand.
“Hi, Tammy.” Piper introduced herself, then asked, “Are you new to Cloverdale?”
“I am!” Tammy exclaimed, as if Piper had made an impressive deduction. “Jeremy Porter made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, so I picked up and moved here.”
“You’re a Realtor?”
Tammy’s burst of laughter was infectious and Piper couldn’t help joining in, though she had no idea what she was laughing about. “No, dear,” Tammy said. “I don’t sell houses. I clean them!”
“Ah!”
“I cleaned Jeremy’s other house, so when he wasn’t happy with the cleaning staff for his new house in Cloverdale—Jeremy’s very particular—he asked if I’d come and do the job. I was in the mood to relocate, so I did. Not as a live-in,” she said, seeming anxious that Piper understand that. “Uh-uh. I have my own place. And I take other jobs, too. Homes, offices, you name it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind in case anyone is looking for help.”
“Thank you, sweetie! Now tell me, what kind of shop is this? I never heard of a pickling shop.”
Piper was happy to oblige and happier, too, to have an obviously receptive listener as she ran through her list of pickles, preserves, and the means to produce them.
“How lovely!” Tammy declared when Piper had finished. “I’ve done a little canning but no pickling of any kind. I’m going to try it! Where do I start?”
Piper pulled out a couple of cookbooks that explained the basics of pickling, along with offering many great recipes, and let her new acquaintance look them over. As Tammy browsed, Piper decided the woman must not have heard about Dirk Unger and speculated that it might not have been her day to clean at the Porter house. But to Piper’s surprise, as Tammy flipped a page in one of the cookbooks she said, “A shame what happened to Mr. Unger, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It was. I just heard about it an hour ago.”
“Oh, I heard it last night.”
“You did?”
“Uh-huh.” Tammy reached for the second cookbook. “Mallory Porter—she’s Jeremy’s sister—called to say I shouldn’t come in today and why. Which is why I had time to come here!” She smiled brightly at Piper, clearly not too broken up about Dirk’s passing.
“Did Mallory Porter know what happened?”
“You mean that he might have been poisoned?”
“Uh, right.”
Tammy nodded. “That was why she canceled my cleaning. She said the police were going to be there asking a lot of questions. She wasn’t too happy about that.”
“Unhappy about the questions or about Unger’s death?”
Tammy laughed. “The questions, definitely. Neither of the women—Lydia or Mallory—liked Mr. Unger. They were always after Jeremy to get rid of him. But for whatever reason, he never would. Well, now that battle’s over, anyway.” She held out one of the cookbooks. “I’ll take this one,” she said. “And I should probably get new jars and lids and stuff. I’m going to try the pickled beets. I loved the ones my mother used to make.”
“A good choice.” Piper helped Tammy gather the items she needed, thinking the whole time about what the woman had said. There were a thousand questions forming in her head, but before she could get any of them in order, it was time to ring Tammy’s items up.
“Why don’t you leave your number with me,” Piper suggested, wanting to keep in touch with this woman. “In case anyone is looking for a cleaner.”
“Sure!” Tammy scrambled through her purse and pulled out, to Piper’s surprise, a pack of business cards. The card she handed Piper had a cartoon drawing of an apple-shaped woman—obviously Tammy Butterworth—wielding a mop, along with her contact information. Piper turned the card over to see a QR code along with a website address.
“You have a website?”
“Doesn’t everybody?” Tammy asked, to which Piper winced.
“I’ve been meaning to,” she admitted.
“Oh, you should get one up, honey! You have no idea how much business you could be losing without one. I can recommend my web designer. Her link’s on my home page.”
“Thank you,” Piper squeaked. She handed over Tammy’s purchases, which filled two large bags.
Tammy took off and Piper gazed after her, feeling properly chastised for her lack of good business practice. She’d been working, off and on, on putting together at least a makeshift website herself, but had made little progress, with the multiple distractions of her new life in Cloverdale getting in the way. She comforted herself with the fact that she did at least have flyers printed up, which she had given away at the previous summer’s Cloverdale fair. Piper had reached for her cell phone to pull up Tammy’s website when Aunt Judy walked in, holding Jack, her black-and-white mixed-breed, on a leash. Months ago she and Uncle Frank had taken in Jack as a skinny, fur-matted stray and gradually rehabilitated him into the healthy and lovable dog he now was.
“You don’t mind my bringing Jack into the shop, do you?” Aunt Judy asked, unnecessarily.
“Of course not!” Piper bent down
to ruffle Jack’s fur as he yipped happily at the sight of her, his tail wagging furiously. “How’s my most favorite dog in the world?” she asked, more of Jack than her aunt, though it was Aunt Judy who answered.
“He’s fine but he needs his booster shots. I’ll walk him over to Dr. Rhodes in a minute but we wanted to stop in and say hello.”
Jack yipped at that, as though agreeing, then calmed and sat obediently at Aunt Judy’s bidding.
Aunt Judy’s face sobered. “You’ve heard, perhaps, about that man who worked for Jeremy Porter?”
“Dirk Unger? Yes. Awful news.”
“It is, and I’m very sorry for him, despite the kind of person he seemed to be. But I’m most concerned at the moment for Sugar Heywood.”
Piper nodded. “She was my first thought when I heard about it, too.”
“Surely—”
“No, I don’t think for a moment that Sugar could have done anything so terrible. But the connection is unavoidable after what Dirk Unger did to hurt her the other night.”
“But since poison is usually taken in food,” Aunt Judy said, “would that eliminate Sugar? She would hardly be fixing a meal for that man.”
“Pretty unlikely, yes, but there are other methods. At this point, though, not knowing what the poison was and how it acts means we can only make guesses, which is next to useless.”
“You’re right.” Aunt Judy reached down to pat Jack, who’d started squirming. “Oh, how I wish Sugar had come to your party last night. I completely understand why she couldn’t bring herself to do so but it might turn out to have been a bad mistake.”
Piper hoped they were unnecessarily worried, and Aunt Judy took Jack off to the vet’s, leaving Piper to wonder how long it would take to pinpoint the cause and circumstances of Dirk Unger’s death—and how many theories and accusations she would hear before the truth was finally uncovered.
Scene of the Brine Page 5
