Much Ado About Muffin

by Victoria Hamilton

  I approached and plunked down on the grass nearby. “So you’re Lido Dinnegan,” I said. “I’m Merry Wynter. Shilo and I have been friends for over ten years.”

  He nodded, watchful. “She’s told me. Said you’ve been right good to her, ma’am, taking care of her from the moment y’all met.”

  “Is it true that your grandmother is ill?”

  He nodded, never taking his gaze from mine. “She’s got the cancer. Lady parts. She’s old, but tough as nails. Sent me to find Shilo.”

  “And your father?”

  Lido became introspective, gazing down at the sandwich in his hands. “Shilo remembers this big, blustery fellow, but he’s been knocked down by life. I think it scared the crap outta him when Nattie kilt a guy and got sent to prison. He seen that he shouldn’t ought’ve tried to make Shilo marry him.”

  “She’s afraid of your father still.”

  He nodded. “I understand. He hurt her bad. I wasn’t there, but Shenan was and said it scared her something awful; that’s why she run off and married her first husband, so Daddy wouldn’t choose someone for her, too. I missed Shi, growing up. I was only twelve when she took off, but she was my favorite sister.”

  I thought about it for a long minute. He seemed on the level. “She is scared, but she wants to see your grandmother.”

  “I want her to meet my wife and kids. I’m missing my youngest’s first birthday to be here, but this is important to Granny, so it’s important to me. Shilo’s a missing piece of the family.”

  He seemed so young to me, probably only twenty-three or so if he was twelve when Shilo left, but it appeared they all married young.

  Jack screeched his little Smart car to a halt in front of the house and unfolded his lanky frame from it, his expression panicked. “Is everything okay, Merry?” he asked as he came through the gate. “What’s going on? Shi’s text was weird.”

  “Everything’s going to be fine—she just needs to talk to you.” I got up, dusted off my shorts, and gave him a hard hug. I grabbed his upper arms and looked up into his earnest, honest eyes. “Shi loves you deeply; always know that. So deeply that she’s scared to death of losing you.”

  He looked even more alarmed, but I wasn’t the one to soothe his worries. Shilo was inside, and she could do it better than I.

  “Tell her I said Lido’s okay, I believe him,” I said. “She’ll know what I mean. Just tell her that exactly. I’ll call later, when you two have sorted everything out.”

  “Okay, sure, yeah,” he said, even as he darted up the walk and leaped up the steps. “Talk to you later!” he said and bolted inside.

  “He sure does love her,” Lido said. “Homeliest fella I ever seen, but he surely does love Shilo.”

  I looked down, watching him. “Lido, why now? I know your grandmother is ill, but why not try to reconnect years ago?”

  He thought about it and met my gaze. “God says for everything there is a season. It was time. And Papa is so worried about his mama—our granny—that he’s a changed man.”

  “I don’t know if I believe in that complete a change.”

  Lido nodded. “I understand that, ma’am, but I’m grown-up now. I won’t let him hurt Shi, even if he was of a mind to.” He looked up to the house. “And she’s got a husband now. I don’t think he’d let anyone hurt her neither.”

  I stopped at my car and looked back before getting in; framed in the big picture window I could see Jack holding Shilo close. Lido saw it, too, and he clasped his hands together in a prayerful expression of hope. I drove away.

  One problem down; one to go. Who killed Minnie Urquhart? I pointed the Caddy toward Ridley Ridge and headed out of the valley. I had the suspects boiled down to just a few now: Crystal Rouse, Karl Mencken, or Brianna and Logan. Or Roma—though I didn’t think she did it, it was still possible. She was hiding something.

  Ridley Ridge: no matter how long I’m away from it, it never seems long enough. I pulled to a stop, parked, and got out of the car. Ridley Ridge is like the upstate New York version of those towns in old Western movies that look deserted, but you know there are peeping eyes behind every pair of curtains. I crossed the street to the café and entered. Where was Susan, my favorite laconic waitress, who was usually pouring sludgy coffee or texting friends? I strolled through the café, where a few patrons whispered, heads bent together, eyeing me with mistrust. The waitress today was a thin, dark-haired girl with a stained uniform.

  “Where’s Susan?”

  “Susan?” The girl had a reedy voice, and she was blank of expression, her pale gray eyes soulless.

  “Susan. The waitress who works here.”

  “She left.”

  “Left. The café? Town? The country?”

  “She got accepted to college over the summer and left.”

  I was staggered, stunned, amazed. Susan had never seemed to have ambition. She wasn’t stupid, but she felt stuck where she was, doing what she did. But she broke free! I was proud of her. It wasn’t that I thought life in a small town was bad in any way, but it should be a choice, not a sentence.

  Especially when it’s Ridley Ridge.

  “College . . . good for her! I’m Merry Wynter. I supply the café with muffins, but I’ve been away for a couple of months, and I’m wondering if I should resume. Can I leave a message for Joe, the owner?”

  “Okay.”

  I dug a notebook out of my purse and wrote a brief note, handing it over to the girl. “What’s your name?”

  “Lisa.”

  “Hi, Lisa. Susan used to give me information when I needed it, too.”

  She nodded, and some faint color bloomed on her thin cheeks. “I know. We heard all about it, and how she saved your life.”

  I watched the hopeful look on her face; perhaps I had found another ally. I leaned on the counter and murmured, “I was told that Minnie Urquhart, the woman who was murdered in the post office in Autumn Vale, was in contact with a drug dealer in Ridley Ridge and had been seen talking to him. Do you know who I’m talking about?”

  Her eyes widened and she nodded.

  “Do you know where I could find him?”

  She nodded again, only this time I got that she was subtly pointing to someone. I looked over my shoulder to where a long-haired man in jeans sat in a booth alone with a newspaper spread out in front of him. “Name?” I whispered.

  “Cash,” she said. “Just . . . Cash.”

  I strolled through the café until I reached his booth and slid in across from him. He rattled his paper, much like a gentleman in a Victorian club might when disturbed, and folded it, eying me with mild, bloodshot eyes.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice gruff but polite enough.

  “You’re Cash, correct?”

  “Some call me that.”

  Others in the coffee shop were trying to listen in, so I kept my tone low. “I’ve been told that you may recently have been in contact with a woman named Minnie Urquhart.”

  He nodded. “She’s related to Les Urquhart.”

  “My name is Merry Wynter. You likely know who I am.” I’d had my dealings with Les, a nasty character, and our little conflict had been local gossip fodder for months.

  He nodded. “Les is a crud. Glad he’s not around now.”

  Good to know. If he’d loved the man like a brother I might be in trouble, since I helped put him away. “And you know what happened to Minnie?”

  He nodded. “For the people of a town that considers itself superior to Ridley Ridge, you Autumn Vale folk sure have trouble keeping citizens alive.”

  I let that go, but he did have a point. “Why did Minnie come to you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  He frowned down at his newspaper. “You want what she said to me or what I think was going on?”

  “Both.”

  “Well she came
to me ’bout a month ago the first time, then again a week or so later. She tracked me down and asked if I could sell her some . . . let’s call it medicinal herbs. Said she had a condition and needed it for pain. I don’t do that kind of thing anymore, I told her. Then she says, Well, what about something stronger?” He shook his head. “She was bullheaded, wouldn’t take no for an answer. Asked me if I sold meth, or if I knew someone who did!”

  “Meth?” Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t that.

  “I know, what the hell?” he said, his lean face drawn with an offended look, like he’d smelled something putrid. “I don’t deal in that crap. No way was she a meth head, so I figured she was looking to bust whoever sells. It ain’t me, I said. And that was that.”

  I sat for a moment tapping the tabletop. I felt my phone vibrate in my purse but ignored it. “Was she worried about someone she knew, a friend or relative, perhaps?”

  He nodded reluctantly. “Thought crossed my mind. Urquharts in this town are quite the bunch. Coulda been any one of her nieces or nephews she was worried about being an addict. More’n a little pot, I mean.”

  Or maybe not kin—maybe one of her boarders. Perhaps the fight she had with Karl wasn’t about a misappropriated vehicle at all but about his drug use. I needed to ask Logan and Brianna about that fight, what they knew, what they’d seen or heard. I stood. “Thanks, Cash. I appreciate the talk.” I didn’t know if he’d been completely honest, but he seemed open enough.

  “Anytime, pretty lady!” His gaze darted out the window and he stiffened. “I’ll walk you out,” he said.

  I felt all eyes on me as we left the coffee shop, his hand cupping my elbow, behaving like the gentleman he seemed to be. What was going on?

  When we got to the sidewalk, he said, “You might just have a look across the street at a fellow sitting on a doorstep. He’s the only dude in town who sells the junk I don’t touch, if you know what I mean.”

  I glanced across and experienced a shudder of recognition. It was the guy from whom Brianna had accepted a package in the parking lot of the seniors’ home.

  “Now, I can tell you’ve seen him before, but I would not advise you talking to him. If he sniffs trouble, he’ll follow you home and beat you black and blue.”

  I nodded and tore my gaze away. “Thanks for the warning, Cash.”

  “Thanks for heeding it. Wouldn’t want that lovely face busted open.”

  That certainly seemed like confirmation: Brianna must be a drug user of the hard stuff, and perhaps the reason Minnie was trying to track down the dealer. I returned to my car and leaned against it as I checked my phone. The shifty drug merchant heaved himself to his feet and shuffled off in the opposite direction.

  Hannah had called and left a message. “Merry, Deputy Urquhart is going to be disappointed if he thinks he’s the heir to Minnie’s estate. Apparently the heir is someone named Casey Urquhart. Call me later!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I was ticking things off a mental list, at the bottom of which was Who killed Minnie Urquhart? No answer to that yet, but at least I knew what was going on with Shilo and some progress had been made on that front. I had other things on my mind; one was Lizzie and her estrangement from her mom, the source of which was Crystal, who might be the murderer. I drove back through Autumn Vale to a little side street with modest bungalows where I’d first met Emerald at Lizzie’s grandmother’s home.

  My young friend was mowing the front lawn; she had her wild hair restrained by a scrunchy and wore ragged cutoffs and a T-shirt from which the arms had been torn. She was happy to see me, like a puppy when the owner comes home unexpectedly, wriggling and yipping. It was gratifying and a little sad, especially since Lizzie normally takes teen dourness to all new depths. She fetched a bottle of water for us each and we sat on the sagging front step.

  “I hear Crystal seized your phone yesterday when you and she had a big fight, and that’s why you’re back here with your grandmother.”

  “I hate that witch,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I wish she’d die.”

  I thought of censuring her remarks, but sometimes that’s how you feel when you’re a teenager. “So what time did the cell phone incident happen?”

  She shrugged. “Early. I was texting Alcina, and Crystal McBitchy thought I wasn’t paying enough attention to every boring, stupid word she said, so she yanked it away from me. We had a huge fight and I left. I don’t have to live like that, not when Grandma is happy to have me here. I think she needs me, you know?”

  I looked around the property; she had a point. The garbage was piling up, and one bag had clearly been torn into by raccoons or some other critter. “I’m amazed that Alcina has a cell phone.” The girl’s family ekes out a living selling their vegetables, and Alcina is homeschooled, or rather, unschooled, and yes, unschooling really is a thing; I looked it up.

  “They qualify for some free cell phone program so they have access to the outside world. Her mom doesn’t know how to use it. Alcina does all their calling and texting.”

  “Crystal still has it?”

  “My phone? Heck yeah. Can I charge her with theft?”

  I smiled, though she sounded serious. So . . . Lizzie did not have her phone when I texted. Crystal had used the opportunity to mislead me, but why? “According to your mom, Crystal goes off to meditate every morning.”

  “Meditate? Hah.” Lizzie snorted. “She goes to smoke pot and drink. I saw her sneaking something into her purse one morning when she was leaving to ‘meditate.’ When she came back I snooped. In her bag was a cigarette pack with a twisted ciggie in it and a flask with some kind of smelly booze. Who does she think she’s fooling?”

  “She’s an adult. Why hide it?”

  “Because she’s full of crap, that’s why. She tells Mom that booze and drugs are crutches, that ascending to a higher plane can be achieved with meditation. She’s a freakin’ fraud.”

  I was distracted by my thoughts; why had Crystal texted me that lie to make it seem like she was with Em and Lizzie? The only reason I could think of was, she was busily murdering Minnie. She had zoomed to the top of my suspect list, but I wasn’t sure Esposito would see it that way. I needed to track down Emerald’s car and see if it had damage to the front consistent with a driver cold-bloodedly trying to run me off the road. A shiver crawled down my spine. “I hear your mom’s car is in the shop. Does she have a regular mechanic?”

  “Why?”

  “Just asking.”

  “Her cousin always fixes it when it breaks down.”

  But Crystal wouldn’t likely have taken it to Em’s cousin, so if what I suspected was true and the car had body damage rather than an engine problem, it would be someone else nearby who would do body work. I cast a glance over at Lizzie, who had her knees up and was resting her chin on her arms. “I’m sorry this is going on just when you and your mom seemed to have it together. She’s pretty desperate to make a good life for you both, and I think she’s lost track of things. Adults can get taken in, sometimes, you know. Emerald wants so badly to be a success for both of your sakes that she can’t recognize the truth: that Crystal is a fraud.”

  “Why can’t she see it when I do?”

  I had no answer to that. “I’ll do my best to take Crystal down and not involve your mom, okay?”

  She nodded. I didn’t want to say anything more because I didn’t want the kid to worry about the hot water her mother could be in if we didn’t manage to implicate Crystal only.

  “Are you going to stay with your grandmother for a while?”

  She nodded again.

  “But you’re going to go back to school on Monday, right? And you’re going to stick with the plan, to get better grades so that you can get into a good college with a scholarship and get a diploma in fine arts photography?”

  She sighed hugely and nodded.

  “Go
od. I have to get going and see what Gordy and Karl Mencken are up to on my property. If you need anything, kiddo, or just want to talk, call me.”

  She snuck a look sideways at me. “I’m glad you’re back, even if I was mad at you for staying away so long.”

  “I know. Be good.”

  She stood and I hugged her good-bye, then drove away, watching in my rearview mirror as she resumed mowing.

  So it could well have been Crystal who tried to run me off the road. There were a few reasons why she might have, two that had nothing to do with Minnie’s murder and one that did. Based on her conversation with Emerald about the cell phone, she resented my influence over Emerald and Lizzie in particular. Perhaps she didn’t intend to kill me but to rattle me, in that case. Or did she want me out of Emerald and Lizzie’s lives because of my suspicion about her Consciousness Calling enterprise? There is nothing a con artist hates more than a skeptic. In that case, maybe she did intend to kill me.

  Or Crystal may have killed Minnie—why else would she lie about where she was that morning?—then become concerned when I appeared ready to investigate. I was infamous around Autumn Vale both for the murders that had happened in or near Wynter Castle, and for my success in helping capture the killers. She may have thought she was safe killing Minnie because of my own problems with the woman. Roma and Minnie’s dramatic fight at the castle was gossip that had spread through the whole town, so using the letter opener was meant to point toward someone in my household as the guilty party. Otherwise, why use the letter opener at all when another weapon actually killed the poor woman?

  But why would Crystal kill Minnie? Again, my overactive imagination was ready with several scenarios, any one of them possible.

  One: she resented Minnie disrupting her meetings because she didn’t approve of the hold Crystal was getting over Brianna and Logan. That was weak.