Scene of the Brine

by Mary Ellen Hughes

  “I think you may have given us a good lead,” Ralph said, and Piper felt an internal wince.

  “Oh?” she asked, determined to keep an open mind.

  “Sugar and I talked with several of the people with businesses near Yeager’s office. Those who noticed agree it was five thirty when he closed up and left on Wednesday, the day of the murder.”

  “And he didn’t show up at the party here until close to seven.”

  “Right. Of course, he could have simply gone home first. But Sugar knows one of his neighbors pretty well, a woman who walks her dog on a regular schedule. So we arranged to be strolling down her street at the right time to run into her.”

  Piper’s timer went off. “My canning jars,” she explained. “Come back with me while I finish up.” Ralph followed her and opened a folding chair for himself as Piper began lifting her jars of pickled asparagus from the canning pot with a pair of tongs, setting them, one by one, on a folded towel.

  “Looks good. When can I try one?” Ralph said.

  “Not for a while,” Piper said, smiling. “They need to sit here quietly for twelve hours, first of all, and I happen to think they taste better for being stored a few weeks. But that’s just me. It could be that I just like to admire them for a while.” She grabbed another jar with her tongs. “So what happened with Stan’s neighbor?”

  “Well, Sugar was great. I know how worried she is about Zach, but she managed to put on a happy, no-cares-in-the-world face and called out to Monica—the dog-walking neighbor—as soon as she came within sight. Monica looked surprised but happy to see Sugar, and even better, didn’t seem aware of Zach’s situation.”

  “How did Sugar explain her interest in Stan’s comings and goings?” Piper asked, continuing with her jars.

  Ralph smiled, clearly impressed with Sugar’s ingenuity. “After a couple of minutes of chitchat and fussing over Monica’s dog—one of those little dust mop ones—Sugar suddenly looked toward Stan’s house and said, ‘Oh, I guess we’re too early. I don’t see any car in the Yeager driveway. Or is that his car parked at the curb?’ Monica glanced over and said, ‘That’s not Stan’s car. He drives a black Audi.’”

  “She’s right,” Piper said. “That’s what Stan drove me around in when we were looking for a shop for me. What time of the day was this?”

  “A little before five thirty, when we knew Yeager would likely still be in his office. Monica knew that, too, and mentioned that he rarely got home before five forty-five, which was when she was usually heading back on her dog walk.”

  “So I assume Sugar found out if Stan had come home at that time on Wednesday?”

  “She did. I got lost in the convolutions of the conversation at that point but it eventually came out that Stan’s wife has been out of town for a few days, visiting a daughter, and Monica had a last-minute thought to invite Stan over for dinner that evening. But she didn’t see his car in their driveway until eight.”

  “Which is when he must have come home from my party and Dirk Unger was either dead or dying.”

  “Correct.”

  “So there’s a period of time—between five thirty and seven—when Stan could have gone over to Unger’s place and planted the poison.”

  “Yes, unless he can prove he was elsewhere,” Ralph said. “We did check with nearby restaurants but he hadn’t stopped in any of them.”

  “That sounds awfully close to Zach’s problem—not having an alibi.”

  “It does. But Monica also strengthened Yeager’s motive. His wife, it seems, had told Monica that Stan suspected Dirk Unger had stolen some of his clients and he was furious about it.”

  Piper listened, aware of a sinking feeling as Ralph’s report worsened things for Stan. She liked the Realtor, who had his quirks but had always seemed honest and well meaning. That didn’t necessarily rule out the possibility of murder. She’d sadly come to realize that desperate circumstances could bring out a dark side in people. Piper thought of Uncle Frank’s words, that it would be better to know the truth—

  “Wait!” she said, suddenly thinking of something in Stan’s favor. “What about the poison? Bloodroot. Stan isn’t a nature person. How would he know about such a plant?”

  “I don’t know,” Ralph admitted. “Except there are ways of finding out such things, Piper. Books, the Internet, asking an expert . . .”

  Piper sighed. “You’re right. It just seems too foreign for Stan, though, don’t you think? If he wanted to kill Dirk Unger, an obscure poison like bloodroot doesn’t seem like his first choice.”

  “Neither would bludgeoning or stabbing, I’d say. And I’m guessing Stan isn’t particularly big on guns.”

  Piper shook her head. “I’ve heard him argue for more gun control, actually.”

  “So perhaps poisoning would be Yeager’s most likely choice. And choosing a poison that comes from a locally growing plant means no record of purchase, you know.”

  Piper nodded, though she still couldn’t picture Stan tramping through the woods or being able to identify the right plant. She could see Zach doing that, however, which put her back exactly where she didn’t want to be. She sighed again.

  “You and Sugar have come up with good information, Ralph. Stan Yeager will stay high on our list of suspects for now.” She told him about the argument Uncle Frank witnessed between Unger and Marguerite Lloyd. “Tammy Butterworth gave me a lead on what that argument might have been about.” She explained about Aunt Judy’s friends, the Fortneys. “I’ll see what I can learn from them.”

  “Sounds good. We’ll keep working on Stan,” he said, folding his chair back up and leaning it against the wall. “Maybe we’ll find something that will clear him,” he added, and Piper smiled. Ralph had picked up on her reluctance to see her likable Realtor as a murderer.

  “It’ll be whoever it is,” she said. “And I’ll deal with it. The important thing is to prove it wasn’t Zach, who we know it isn’t.”

  “Amen to that.” Ralph said, leading the way out to the front of the shop. “Nice cat,” he said as he passed by Scott’s papier-mâché gift, which Piper had thought was tucked inconspicuously among her canning supplies.

  Apparently, the brightly colored creation was not as unnoticeable as she’d hoped. Would Will ask where it had come from? Should she offer the information before he asked? She’d promised herself to be open and honest with Will but would her reporting a silly little gift from Scott be blowing its importance out of proportion? If it was truly unimportant, though, why had she started hiding it?

  Good question, and one she promised herself to examine—soon.

  13

  Aunt Judy called with an invitation to dine that evening with the Fortneys.

  “Corinne said she and Lou have reservations at A La Carte. She insisted they’d truly love for us to join them. Frank, too, of course, but Frank has a lodge meeting. What do you think?”

  Piper was delighted with the opportunity to talk with the couple, so Aunt Judy said she’d pick Piper up at six forty-five. By six forty Piper had changed into a simple beige dress with a softly flaring skirt dressed up with a pretty necklace and heels. A La Carte, she’d learned early on, was not a “casual dining” spot. When she spotted her aunt’s Equinox coming down the street, Piper grabbed a light coat and trotted down the stairs to meet it at the curb.

  “Thanks for setting this up, Aunt Judy,” Piper said as she climbed into the blue SUV, the color chosen by her aunt and the model by her uncle with his wife’s safety in mind. So,” she said, buckling up, “tell me about the Fortneys. Why did they move back to Cloverdale?”

  “You look very nice,” Aunt Judy said first with a smile, putting off Piper’s question until she’d checked her mirrors and pulled forward. “Lou retired. He liked Chicago but Corinne had had her fill of big-city living. They both still have family and friends here so she convinced him to come back
to Cloverdale.” Aunt Judy slowed at an intersection and signaled for a right turn. “Lou likes to get his own way, for the most part, and Corinne is probably the only person who can sway him.”

  “What kind of work did he retire from?”

  “A supervisor in some kind of manufacturing plant—I think. You can ask him about it if you want but it might get him going for quite a while. Just warning you.”

  Piper grinned. “I’m more interested in what they’ve been up to in Cloverdale than Chicago.”

  “Probably wisest to stay with that.”

  Aunt Judy turned onto A La Carte’s street. It was lined with parked cars. “A busy night,” she said, tsk-tsking, and crept ahead, catching a spot that a gray Impala was just vacating. “You’ll probably have to listen to a lot of reminiscing by us old folks,” she said as she cut her engine and pulled out her keys.

  “That’s fine,” Piper said. “If it puts the Fortneys in a relaxed and confiding mood, they may be open to sharing a lot more by the time they catch up to the current times.”

  “And a little wine won’t hurt, either,” Aunt Judy added with twinkling eyes and a grin.

  They walked the block to A La Carte and passed by its hanging baskets, filled at that time of year with blue and yellow pansies, then under its blue canopy to enter into the reception area of the restaurant. Aunt Judy informed the hostess that they were meeting with the Fortneys.

  “Oh, yes,” the young woman said, recognizing the name. “They’re already seated.” She picked up two large menus and led Piper and her aunt into the large dining area made cozy with wood ceiling beams and a brick fireplace. Piper was reminded of her first visit to the restaurant as she began to wind her way between the white-cloth-topped tables. Nate had been in danger of losing his performing job then and Piper and Will had urged everyone they could think of to come and show their support for the singer. It had turned out to be a rousing good time—and a significant boost to Piper and Will’s budding relationship.

  “Judy—over here!” A woman about Aunt Judy’s age called and waved to them, and Aunt Judy waved back.

  A tall and imposing man rose as they approached, napkin clutched in one hand, and Aunt Judy begged, “Lou, please sit down.” She introduced Piper to the two and they took their seats in an exchange of greetings.

  “Did your aunt tell you we’ve known each other since kindergarten?” Corinne Fortney asked Piper. From a distance, the woman’s strikingly golden hair color and stylish dress had subtracted at least ten years from her presumed age and set her apart from Aunt Judy and her other friends. But close up, Piper saw a grandmotherly smile and warmth that matched her aunt’s and explained their long-lasting closeness.

  Lou Fortney, on the other hand, with his serious frown and somewhat overbearing manner, made any rapport with Uncle Frank doubtful, and Piper wondered if the “lodge meeting” had been on her uncle’s calendar or had popped up suddenly.

  Corinne launched into a story that sent Piper’s aunt into girlish giggles, which Piper found amusing, the story having to do with squirt guns sneaked into a high school classroom. Polite questions about Piper’s pickling shop followed, and after everyone had studied their menus and ordered, Aunt Judy asked Lou how he was enjoying his retirement and return to Cloverdale.

  “It’s been interesting,” he said, drawing a deep breath. He then commenced a detailed account of the sale of their home in Chicago and their search for the perfect place in Cloverdale, a story that included all the features Corinne wanted in a house, some he thought were unnecessary or that he’d insisted on, and what they eventually settled on.

  Their food had arrived by the time he wound down, and as Lou fell silent for a moment in contemplation of his plate, Piper grabbed the chance to ask, “Was Stan Yeager your Realtor?”

  Lou instantly scowled, and it was Corinne who answered. “We started with Mr. Yeager but we switched to—oh, there he is!” she said, her attention caught by movement near the entryway. “Look, Lou. There’s Jeremy Porter now.”

  All three turned in that direction and Piper recognized Lydia Porter walking behind the hostess and ahead of a man who must have been Jeremy. Since Piper had only heard about Jeremy up to that point, she studied the man with interest.

  Jeremy Porter was taller than his mother but below average for a man. His bearing, however, gave him a commanding air, enhanced by his well-tailored suit. Thick, dark hair framed even features and a squared jaw, and Piper could understand Sugar Heywood’s attraction to the man beyond the career success that she’d so admired. A taller, somewhat gangly woman trailed behind the others.

  “Who is that with the Porters?” Piper asked.

  “That’s the sister, Mallory,” Corinne answered.

  “Ah.” Piper remembered Lydia mentioning her daughter. She watched as Jeremy’s sister stumbled slightly in her efforts to keep up with the others. Mallory obviously had garnered whatever height genes were in the mix but had missed out on much of the poise and bearing. She was very well dressed, however, though Piper thought the style of the expensive-looking suit she wore leaned more toward Lydia’s generation than Mallory’s.

  As the trio were seated several tables away from the Fortneys, Corinne said, “Don’t they all look nice. I always think it’s a good sign of a man’s character when he treats his mother well, don’t you? Bringing her and his sister to Cloverdale to live with him surely was a generous thing to do.”

  From what Sugar had told Piper, the idea had been mostly Lydia’s, but she simply nodded. “You said you switched from Stan Yeager’s agency to Porter’s. Were you unhappy with Stan?” she asked.

  “Well, after what Mr. Unger told us about him . . .” Corinne said, turning back to her food and poking a fork into her garden salad.

  “What in the world could he have said against Stan?” Aunt Judy asked, sounding shocked. “I’ve known only good things about him.”

  Corinne hesitated, as if unwilling to upset her friend further, but Lou Fortney obviously had no such reservations. “Unger warned us that Yeager had several complaints being looked into by the Realtors’ Code of Ethics board.”

  “What!” Aunt Judy’s fork clattered to her plate. “I can’t believe that.”

  “It’s true,” Corinne said. “Mr. Unger showed us a printout of the complaints.”

  “No way were we going to deal with someone like that,” Lou said.

  “Did he give you the printouts?” Piper asked and the twin head shakes were her answer. Was Unger above faking such reports, she wondered? It would be simple to churn such things out of a computer. Obviously, the Fortneys hadn’t investigated further. How many other potential clients might Unger have pulled away from Stan Yeager in that way? She agreed with Aunt Judy that Stan’s realty ethics were highly unlikely to have been compromised. He’d been conscientious to the letter when she’d dealt with him. No wonder Stan had looked so strained, if he’d been losing clients like that. Would he have known of the causes?

  Corinne changed the subject to their food, raving over it, and Aunt Judy credited Amy, who likely had a part in its preparation. “Amy also helps Piper out part time,” she said, which brought the conversation to pickling, a subject Piper was normally most happy to discuss. That night, however, she answered questions more perfunctorily, her thoughts still on Unger and Stan Yeager.

  Their conversation stopped as Nate Purdy was introduced and stepped onto the small stage to begin his nightly performance. As he strummed his guitar to do a final tuning, Piper heard Aunt Judy explain Nate’s relationship to the chef she’d just mentioned. Corinne’s eyes danced at the tale of young romance but Lou simply huffed and returned to his roasted duck à l’orange. The women at the table, along with an obvious majority of the room’s diners, greatly enjoyed Nate’s music, which began with French folk songs and moved on to a variety of popular songs. Piper spotted Amy standing at the kitchen door, clearly ne
ver tired of listening to her boyfriend’s music.

  When Nate finished his set he rose to take a break, promising to be back in a few minutes. The waitress appeared with dessert and coffee and Aunt Judy asked the Fortneys about their landscaping plans. “I remember you were working on them with someone. Have you made any decisions?”

  Corinne’s face fell a bit. “We were talking with that lovely woman, Marguerite Lloyd. Lydia Porter recommended her to us. Ms. Lloyd is very knowledgeable, obviously, and she made perfectly wonderful suggestions.”

  Piper waited for the but . . .

  “Would have cost too much,” Lou said flatly. He shoved a forkful of apple pie into his mouth and glanced around, daring anyone to contradict him.

  Corinne sighed. “It would have, I’m afraid. I didn’t see it at first—it really was a wonderful plan and I was absolutely in love with it. But Mr. Unger pointed out the significant bite it would have made in our retirement savings and how we would be wiser to invest the money in something he recommended. He is an accountant—or was, I should say—so we respected his opinion.”

  Unger again, Piper thought.

  “We can’t be putting that kind of money into flowers,” Lou said. “Have to think of the future. I should have seen that myself but Corinne was so happy with the idea . . .” Lou Fortney’s face softened for the first time as he looked at his wife.

  “No, we needed to be practical, Lou. Mr. Unger convinced me of that.”

  That must have been what Marguerite Lloyd was so upset about in the TopValuFood parking lot, Piper thought. She had known exactly what had changed the Fortneys’ minds. Why did he do it, though, Piper wondered? Did Unger have something against Marguerite or did he simply delight in upsetting people’s lives in general?

  Corinne talked about what she might do herself for a little garden and the dinner gradually wound down. Bills settled, they gathered their things to leave. As the four wound their way toward the exit, Lydia Porter looked up and called, “Corinne!”