Scene of the Brine

by Mary Ellen Hughes

  “Well, he was what? Fifteen? What teenaged boy hasn’t acted a little goofy over a girl at that age? Or am I rationalizing?”

  “No, you’re probably right. I don’t know why I brought that up when you asked me about Zach. Everything else about him was fine. Great, actually. He was terrific in science, you know, and he tutored kids who weren’t so good in it.”

  “Did he finally get over Allie?”

  Amy shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t date anyone after that. But Jessica told me he brought flowers to the hospital.”

  “Hospital?”

  “Yeah. When Allie had appendicitis. Or they thought she did. It turned out it wasn’t her appendix after all. I’m not sure they ever figured out exactly what it was. But she was okay. Anyway, it was nice of Zach to bring her flowers, don’t you think?”

  Piper wasn’t able to comment because at that moment Will walked in, coincidentally holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers. He grinned sheepishly as Piper’s eyes widened.

  “Don’t give me too much credit,” he said. “These came from a neighbor, Marguerite Lloyd, thanking me for pulling her car out of a ditch last week with my tractor. She grows them,” he said, looking down at the lovely bunch of white lilies mixed with pink carnations. “In her greenhouse. I thought you’d appreciate them more than I would.”

  Piper took the bouquet he held out and buried her nose in it, inhaling the lovely perfume. “Thank you!” she said, delighted, even knowing they’d been regifted.

  “I’ll get a vase,” Amy said. She turned toward the back, then stopped. “Are there any down here?”

  “I have a couple upstairs. In the kitchen broom closet. Top shelf.”

  Amy scooted up the stairs to Piper’s apartment as Piper leaned over her counter to give Will a thank-you kiss. “This makes my day, which hasn’t been the greatest up until now.”

  “The Unger thing,” Will said, nodding.

  Piper told him about Zach being taken in for questioning because of the poison that had been used. “Sugar’s pretty upset about it, of course.” She heard faint noises of Amy’s scrambling through her broom closet, then a muted cry of “Hah!” In a moment Amy trotted back down to the shop carrying a green vase that Piper immediately recognized. It was the vase that had held the huge bouquet of roses that Scott sent her last August. He’d ordered them while traveling through Thailand, timed to arrive on the anniversary of their first date—a highly romantic gesture of a kind he’d never managed to come up with when they were actually engaged.

  Could she put Will’s flowers in Scott’s vase, Piper wondered? Oh heck, she decided, it was just a vase. Scott had never seen it, and Will had no notion of its origin. And they were actually Marguerite Lloyd’s flowers, if you wanted to be totally picky. Piper took the vase to the back and half-filled it with water, then arranged the lilies and carnations in it.

  “Beautiful!” Amy cried when Piper carried them back to the shop. “They’ll look wonderful right next to the cash register, don’t you think?”

  “Yes—” Piper began, then looked up as her shop door opened. “Oh! Scott!”

  Scott Littleton walked in, looking very lawyerly in a dark suit and tie and holding a brown leather briefcase. “Piper,” he said, “I just came from—” He stopped, seeing Will standing there, looking outdoorsy in his usual rolled-sleeve shirt and jeans. “Oh. Hi!”

  Will acknowledged Scott with a faint smile and a nod.

  The four stared awkwardly at each other for a moment until Amy asked, “Did everything go okay with Zach?”

  “Um, well enough,” Scott said then turned to Piper. “I wanted to thank you for sending me the client.”

  Piper felt Will’s gaze swing toward her. “I just thought Zach should have someone watching his back,” she said.

  “Absolutely. Your father,” Scott said to Amy, “knows his job, no question. And I’m sure he’s not out to pin things on anyone who’s not guilty. But evidence can be misconstrued and suspects can blurt out information they’re not required to give unless someone’s there to advise them.”

  “But Zach’s totally covered, right? He has an alibi.”

  Scott paused, then said, “I can’t get into that, Amy. But rest assured, I’ll do my best for him.” He suddenly noticed the filled vase Piper held. “Nice flowers.”

  Both Piper’s and Amy’s gaze automatically turned to Will, and Scott said, “Oh. Well, then. Hey, look at the time! I’d better get going. Nice seeing you all!”

  He turned and hurried out, and as the door closed behind him another silence ensued. Then Will said, “It’s good Zach got a lawyer. Let’s just hope he won’t need him for very long.”

  Piper smiled and nodded. Will was being his usual wonderful, understanding self. Scott’s hesitations, however, and lack of reassurances on Zach’s situation hadn’t totally filled her with confidence that Zach wouldn’t be needing him for long.

  10

  Later that afternoon, Piper was propping open her new door to let in the fresh spring air when she spotted Sugar and Zach heading her way, their expressions strained.

  As they drew close, Sugar said, “Zach hasn’t been arrested or charged. Your lawyer friend, Mr. Littleton, was a big help with that. But they’ve instructed Zach not to leave the area.”

  “Why?” Piper asked, bringing the two into her shop. “What’s causing the sheriff to be so suspicious?”

  “Zach’s alibi has a big hole in it. He was at his friend Justin’s to watch a movie, as he said. But he didn’t get there until eight.”

  “Zach, you dropped off the cake for the party here around five thirty, then stayed a while. But I’m afraid I have no idea for how long.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Zach said. His dark tee, worn over cargo pants, featured a stylized skull. Perhaps not the best attire for answering questions from authorities about a murder, but he surely hadn’t anticipated that when he’d dressed that morning. “I already told the sheriff I hung around the party only about fifteen minutes. I wasn’t in the greatest mood and I didn’t want to be a drag. So I left and just walked around for a while. When I got tired of that, I went over to Justin’s.”

  “Did you run into anybody you knew while you were walking?” Piper asked.

  When Zach shook his head, Sugar said, “It looks bad, doesn’t it?”

  “Not necessarily,” Piper said, trying for an upbeat note that she wasn’t totally feeling. “There’s still the matter of getting the bloodroot into Dirk Unger’s salad. I doubt if you’d knocked on Unger’s door, Zach, that he’d have welcomed you.”

  Zach snorted. “Not hardly. And no way would I go there, if I even knew where it was. Unger was the last person I wanted to see.”

  “So to get the bloodroot into his house—the address surely must be easy to find out—you’d probably have to break in. I didn’t hear anything about smashed windows or doors at the place.”

  Sugar heaved a great sigh, looking at her son, who squeezed her shoulder. “Zach might not have needed to break in. Unger was a careful man with finances and accounting, but it seems he could be absentminded with his keys, so much so that Jeremy kept a spare set of the man’s car and house keys. Jeremy told the police that Unger often hated to admit he’d misplaced his keys once again and would simply leave his house unlocked until he found them again. Jeremy knew that was the case when Unger asked him to drive when they went someplace together.”

  “And was that the case on the day he died?”

  Sugar nodded. “The two of them went to Bellingham on business after lunching at A La Carte. Jeremy drove because Unger claimed he’d left his car home and walked to the office to get some exercise. Unger actually hated exercise.”

  “But that’s a good thing,” Piper said, still straining for optimism. “If Unger’s house was left open, anyone could have slipped the bloodroot inside.”

 
“But how many others were mad enough at Dirk Unger to want to kill him?”

  “That’s what we need to find out,” Ralph Strawbridge said, walking through the open doorway and surprising the three. “If Zach is going to get out of this mess,” Ralph continued, “he’s going to have to come up with proof that someone else did Dirk Unger in.”

  “Oh, he has to get out of this,” Sugar cried. “And soon! Spring break will be over in a few days. He can’t be missing classes. His grades would drop. He’d lose his scholarship!”

  “Mom, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry! I can keep up with most of my classes online,” Zach said, but Piper was thinking that Zach would lose a lot more than a scholarship if he were charged with murder. She suspected Sugar—and maybe Zach, too—couldn’t yet bring themselves to admit the seriousness of his problem.

  Ralph, though, had to be aware of the dangers. Gently turning Sugar’s thoughts from angst to action, he asked, “Who can you think of that would have wanted Dirk Unger dead?”

  Sugar didn’t answer, looking bewildered and thrown for the moment by having to switch focus from her son’s innocence to someone else’s guilt.

  “Anybody who met him,” Zach offered unhelpfully.

  “What about a Realtor?” Piper asked. “Jeremy Porter’s realty business was gobbling up smaller offices and probably hurting the ones that held off.”

  “But why kill Unger over that?” Sugar asked. “Why not Jeremy?”

  “Good question,” Ralph said. “But Piper’s suggestion still merits looking into. Anyone in particular?”

  Piper frowned as an unwelcome thought came to her. “Stan Yeager, for one.”

  “Yes!” Sugar cried, eager now to pitch in and much less concerned about precisely who to point the finger at as long as it wasn’t her son. “Stan was one of the very few who didn’t sign on with Jeremy, which I thought at the time was foolish. How could his small realty office survive against Jeremy’s huge, multi-area agency?”

  “Stan did look pretty bleak when he arrived at the party last night,” Piper admitted.

  “What time was he here?” Ralph asked.

  Piper had to think. “Later in the evening. I remember that Nate brought out his guitar right after I spoke with Stan. And it was after Nate had sung a few songs that we heard the sirens. So Stan must have arrived around seven.”

  “That gives him time to have gone to Unger’s house,” Sugar said eagerly.

  “Unless someone can vouch for Stan’s whereabouts before he arrived,” Ralph said.

  “Wait,” Zach protested. “I don’t want some other innocent guy getting in trouble just to get me off the hook!”

  “We’re not going to get anyone in trouble who doesn’t deserve to be, Zach,” Ralph said. “What we aim to do is to find the actual murderer by narrowing the field. You’re in considerable danger, Zach, and you should realize that. You can’t just sit around and hope for the best.”

  “Ralph is right,” Piper said. “And I promise we won’t jump to any conclusions. Stan is just one person I thought of. There must be more. It could be someone Unger antagonized before he came to Cloverdale. I don’t know much about Unger other than his job. He lived alone. Was he ever married?”

  Sugar shuddered. “I can’t imagine but I suppose anything’s possible.”

  “Jeremy would know. Could you find out about Unger’s past from him?”

  Sugar’s face showed how awful that would be for her, though she said, “If it would help Zach—”

  Zach stopped her. “There’s gotta be some other way.”

  Piper thought a moment before smiling. “There might be.” She pulled open the drawer where she’d dropped Tammy Butterworth’s business card. “This lady,” she said, waving the card, “just might be able to help us out.” She explained what she knew about Tammy and her connection to Jeremy Porter.

  “Perfect!” Ralph said. “You find out as much as you can from her, Piper. Sugar, how about you and I look into Stan Yeager’s whereabouts yesterday before he showed up at the party? And keep thinking about anyone else who might have had reason to murder Unger.”

  “You guys can’t do all the work,” Zach protested. “What can I do?”

  “You should probably check with Scott Littleton,” Piper said. “He might have important advice about what you should and shouldn’t be doing right now.”

  “She’s right, Zach,” Sugar said, looking much better for having a definite goal. “Let us get started on this. There’ll be other ways you can help.”

  Zach didn’t look totally happy with that but he agreed, at least for the time being. Piper was a bit surprised at how quickly she’d let herself be drawn in but couldn’t imagine saying no to her friends in need. The three took off, and Piper studied Tammy Butterworth’s card, wondering how best to ask a pile of invasive questions of this new acquaintance without sending her running for cover.

  . . .

  Piper was still considering the question as she pulled up to Aunt Judy and Uncle Frank’s farm after closing up shop for the day. Besides spending time with two of her favorite people, she had come for the fresh-picked asparagus Uncle Frank said he had ready for her. Any stop at the farm, of course, automatically included an invitation to one of Aunt Judy’s home-cooked meals, which particularly worked for Piper that evening. She hoped to discuss Zach Heywood’s situation with the two and get their input, something that rarely failed to clear her own thoughts.

  As she climbed from her car, Jack raced across the lawn to throw himself at her, making Piper grateful once again that the dog’s genes included no Great Dane. Thirty or so pounds of super-excited dog were enough for her to deal with, and she did her best, enjoying the frantic, tail-wagging enthusiasm until Uncle Frank whistled Jack off.

  “A person would think you were the one filling his food bowl every day, the way that dog dotes on you,” Uncle Frank said, leaning down to peck Piper’s cheek.

  “I’d be flattered if I didn’t know he greeted just about everyone who comes here like that,” Piper said, laughing.

  “Not everyone. He holds back on strangers and watches for cues from us on how to react. He’s not one to be won over by a piece of steak.”

  “Then he’s a good watchdog,” Piper said, scratching Jack’s ears as she walked with her uncle toward the white clapboard farmhouse, which was aging but kept in the best possible shape by her hardworking uncle and aunt. She picked up the earthy smell of freshly turned fields, and, as she climbed the porch steps, caught the aroma of something tasty simmering on the stove drifting through the screen door.

  Aunt Judy bustled out of the kitchen, dish towel in hand, as they stepped indoors. “I hope you like what I made tonight,” she said, hugging Piper. “It’s called sweet, sticky, and spicy chicken. I’ve never made it before but Emma Leahy recommended it.”

  “It smells terrific. Anything I can do?” Piper asked as she followed her aunt back to the kitchen.

  “Sit down and relax. I’m just waiting for my rice to be done.”

  “I’ll go wash up,” Uncle Frank said. “Be back in a minute.”

  Aunt Judy stirred and tested the contents of various pots and within minutes let Piper help her set bowls, the chicken platter, and her ever-present pickle dish onto the table.

  “These are the pickled beets you helped me put up last fall,” Aunt Judy said, pulling up her own chair and passing the dish to Piper.

  “One of my favorites,” Piper said, forking two slices to start with and reminded of Tammy Butterworth, who planned to make some herself. She asked her aunt if she’d met Tammy, explaining the woman’s connection to the Porters.

  “No, I haven’t,” Aunt Judy said. She handed the platter of spicy-glazed chicken strips to her husband.

  “These aren’t real hot, are they?” he asked, gazing at them suspiciously.

  “Just a tiny bit, Frank. The bro
wn sugar balances it. Don’t worry.”

  Piper smiled, knowing her uncle’s strong preference for familiar dishes. Her aunt, though, enjoyed experimenting in the kitchen and had needed to develop good coaxing skills to ease her husband out of his comfort zone.

  “Tammy does cleaning?” Aunt Judy asked, helping herself to a spoonful of rice. “I guess that’s why I haven’t run into her. Most people I know do their own.”

  “The Porters might take up a major part of her time.” Piper tasted the chicken strips and nodded encouragingly to her uncle, who then carefully cut a small piece for himself. “I’m hoping to talk with Tammy,” Piper said. She gave her aunt and uncle a rundown of the latest developments on Dirk Unger’s murder.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that Sugar’s boy is caught in the middle,” Aunt Judy said. “I just can’t imagine that nice young man doing anything so awful. But I’m afraid I can see Sheriff Carlyle’s side of it.”

  Uncle Frank nodded. “The boy’s got a big problem. Motive and opportunity. Add in evidence and Carlyle won’t need to look any further.”

  “That’s why we’re checking into it ourselves.” Piper said. “Great chicken, by the way, Aunt Judy.”

  “By ourselves, you mean . . . ?” Uncle Frank asked.

  “Sugar, Ralph Strawbridge, and me. At least, so far.”

  “Piper, do you think you should?” Aunt Judy asked. “Remember what happened the other time you got involved.”

  “Strawbridge?” Uncle Frank reached for his water glass. “How does he figure in this?”

  “As a friend to Sugar and Zach,” Piper said. “I’ve gotten to know him pretty well as he worked on my shop door. There’s more to Ralph than woodworking. Sugar, I suspect, has greatly underestimated the man. Anyway, he and Sugar are going to check out some things together and I promised to try to pump—that is, question—Tammy Butterworth about Dirk Unger’s past.”