Yeah, everything was going to be fine. Better than fine. I would just snooze a little longer under my warm, warm bl—
Rap! Rap! Rap!
My eyes swung to the window as I jolted straight up in bed. I peered at the figure through the sheer white fabric of my drapes, and once I recognized who it was, I flopped back down.
Chapter Nine
“No,” I groaned. “Go away.”
“I know you’re in there, Erica! Wake up!”
I shook my head against my pillow. Kit Kat. Or was it Tweety?
I cracked one eye open to once again look at the figure appearing and disappearing through the folds of my gauzy curtain.
Tweety. Definitely Tweety. Okay, time to go round two with Twin Two. I sighed. Had news of my scuffle with Marg Johnson at the bingo hall really spread that fast?
I groaned and shut my eyes.
Rap! Rap! Rap!
“I’m coming!”
I swiveled my legs out of bed, planting one foot on a big squishy mound of fur. Half a second later claws dug into my toes.
“Ow!” I screamed, snatching my foot back. I looked over the bed at Caesar’s eyes, which spoke of dreams of my violent death. “If you don’t want to get stepped on, why are you sleeping there?”
“Erica!” Tweety’s voice shouted from outside. “Stop fooling around with that cat and get out here!”
I shuffled down to the bottom of my bed and stepped out, giving Caesar a wide berth. I then yanked a sweater over my head and pulled on some sweatpants.
I grumbled my way outside, gearing myself up for the earful I was about to receive, while reminding myself that Tweety had been through a trauma of sorts. She had been with someone in his final moments of life. I supposed she was owed some sort of consideration.
I walked out the front door to find that Tweety had already come around the porch and was waiting for me.
I took in her expression. She seemed mad and serious. I didn’t like the twins mad and serious. The twins were supposed to be loud and obnoxious and funny and happy and oftentimes just a little drunk.
“Good morning,” I said carefully. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” The multiple frown lines in her forehead deepened.
I threw my hands in the air. “I don’t know, maybe because you took a ride in the Tunnel of Love with a dead man yesterday—a married dead man?” I sighed and rubbed my face. Very sensitive, Erica. There was just something about all this business that made me feel like a little kid watching a superhero take off his mask. The twins, despite all of their foibles, were good, strong women. I didn’t want to believe that Tweety had anything going on with a married man. It wasn’t my business. And yet, a part of me really felt it was.
She pointed at me. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
I folded my arms across my chest, just in case this twin had any thwacking ideas.
“You leave this alone, Erica.”
“Leave what alone, Tweety?” I asked. “Maybe if you told me what was going on here, I would get why I needed to leave it alone.”
“Don’t sass your elders.”
“Oh, okay. Well, that clears that up.” I sighed. “You know people in town are talking. I’d like to shut them up, but I don’t know how.”
Her eyes softened into something that looked a little like worry, making my stomach turn. I mean, angry Tweety sucked, but worried, vulnerable Tweety was just wrong. “Tell me how I can help,” I tried. “What is going on?”
She shook her head.
“Okay, I can’t take this anymore. I need to ask you something.” I inhaled deeply, trying to loosen some of the tightness in my chest. “Were you having an affair with Mr. Masterson?”
Her eyes widened. “No!”
Relief rushed over me. “Oh thank God. I mean I didn’t think so, but why were you on that ride with him?”
She shook her head. “You need to leave this alone. No good can come of it.”
“Man, you sound exactly like your sister.”
Her eyes narrowed and she took a step closer to me. “What do you mean, you sound exactly like your sister? What did she say to you?”
Uh-oh. I shook my head. “I swear, it feels like the entire lake has been turned upside down,” I muttered. “Because, really, since when do you two keep secrets from each other?” She didn’t answer. Instead she turned on her heel and made for the stairs. “Wait! Where are you going?”
“Just do as you’re told, Erica,” she said looking back at me and pointing, “and stay out of it.”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” I said, letting the words fly before realizing just how painfully immature they would sound. “You’re not my mother.”
Suddenly somebody tapped me on the shoulder.
“Wah!” I spun in the air to look behind me. “But you are.”
* * *
My mother rolled her index finger a few times, indicating that I was to follow her into the lodge. She led me to her private office, the room that sat in between our bedrooms. I wasn’t a big fan of hanging out in there, mainly because there were so many self-help books double-stacked on the shelves, it made dying in an avalanche a real possibility. But my mother had been walking with a determination she rarely took on. It meant business.
I slumped in the worn swivel chair that faced the desk. It was the only piece of furniture in the lodge made from leather. It caused my mother no end of moral angst—she was a vegan after all—but it had belonged to my grandfather, and even though I had never met the man, I knew my mother loved him—although I suspected their relationship had been bumpy.
I stared at my mother’s hands, clasped at her lower back as she looked out the window. Seriously, this was ridiculous. How was she going to give me a talking-to if she wasn’t even talking? And for that matter, what had I even done? I blew some air out my lips in a noisy stream. I didn’t need to play this game. I planted my hands on the slender curved armrests of my chair to push myself up. I needed to buy a certain sheriff some coffee. “Mom, I—”
Suddenly she spun, slightly crouched, hands hovering in the air, palms down.
“Whoa,” I said, dropping back into my seat. “Are you okay?”
She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head as though she were listening to a voice that was coming from far, far away.
I huffed a sound through my nose. “Oh great,” I said. “Story time.”
She pointed a finger in the air and made small circles that trailed up and away.
“Mom, do you think maybe this one time, you could make an exception on your vow, and—”
She slapped the top of the desk hard with both palms.
“Jeez! Fine!” Say what you want about my mother, the one quality she had in spades was her authenticity. No one would ever catch her speaking during a vow of silence, and I had to admit there was something reassuring about that.
She rolled her finger again above her head.
“All right.” I blew more air through my lips, making them flap slightly. “A long, long time ago.”
She waved her hand in the air for me to stop.
“Okay,” I said slowly, then added, “Not that long ago?”
She smiled and waved a hand for me to continue.
“A longish time ago?”
She bobbed her head from side to side as though considering, and then nodded her approval.
“Okay, a longish time ago—”
She then squinted before sticking her finger up in the air to indicate she had an idea. She then moved to pick up what looked like a very heavy—sledgehammer? She swung it over her head, and then it slammed down on the floor.
“Oh!” I shouted and pointed. “You were working on the railroad!”
It didn’t take a charades expert to figure out the look she flashed me could best be described as withering.
“Sorry,” I grumbled, slouching back in my seat. “I guess that doesn’t make much sense. I got ahead of myself.”
>
She put up another finger then squatted into a seated position and threw her hands up into the air as though she were going down a hill. A roller coaster!
“The fair!”
She flashed me that proud smile only parents can give their children.
“The fair from a longish time ago!”
Her smile deepened.
I smiled back, readjusting myself in my seat to a more alert position. Okay, maybe this wasn’t so bad.
She paused again, then curved her arms out in front of her and started walking on the spot.
“Fat man!” I said with a point.
She furrowed her eyebrows with disappointment.
“Sorry! But you made the belly!”
She moved her curved arms from her stomach higher to her chest.
“Puffed out? A powerful man?”
She snapped her fingers then rolled her hand for me to keep going.
“A powerful man at the fair!”
She nodded. Then suddenly she was gone.
She had dropped to the floor in a noisy clunk!
Chapter Ten
“Mom!” I launched myself from my seat, sending it spinning into the back wall. I jumped forward, planted my hands on her desk, and looked over.
There lay my mother, limbs contorted in weird angles, eyes closed, and tongue hanging out of her mouth.
“Wow,” I said. “Nice commitment.”
She opened one eye to give me a wink.
I shuffled back to retrieve my chair while my mother got to her feet, brushing off her ankle-length skirt.
“So the powerful man from a longish time ago died?” I asked.
She rolled her hand.
“At the fair?”
She nodded.
“Okay, Mom, what does this have to do with anything?”
She put up one finger in a wait gesture.
She scrunched her face up again into a thinking expression. She then repeatedly slid her head from side to side on her shoulders.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to be.” I pursed my lips. “Bollywood?”
She slapped her palm against her forehead.
“I’m trying!” I shouted. “Wait! I’ve got it!”
She looked at me expectantly.
“The twins!”
And there was that mom smile again.
“So the twins have something to do with a man who died at the fair from a longish time ago?”
She nodded.
I swiveled side-to-side gently in my chair. “And that has something to do with why they are so upset with what happened yesterday?”
She nodded again, more quickly this time.
“But what?” I asked.
My mom held up another finger for me to wait. She seemed to be thinking for a moment. Then she snapped her fingers and brought her hands to her armpits, flapped them like wings.
“A bird!” I shouted. “No! Tweety!”
She nodded then tapped the ring finger on her left hand.
“Tweety’s not married,” I said slowly. “Wait. Engaged?”
My mother nodded.
“Tell me she wasn’t engaged to Mr. Masterson.”
My mother grimaced.
“Crap.” I fell back against the chair. Well, I guess that was part of the history Kit Kat was talking about. “But what does the powerful man’s death have to do with Tweety being engaged to Mr. Masterson?”
My mother just shrugged.
I waited for her to continue, but she was already moving around the desk to leave.
“Wait! Where do you think you’re going?”
She tapped the spot on her wrist where a watch would have been if she ever wore one.
“No! We were just getting started!” But I too could already hear the sounds of a bunch of people not saying anything entering the retreat. I sighed. “Mom, before you go…”
She turned.
“You know both Kit Kat and Tweety have warned me to leave this alone.”
She nodded.
“But I’m worried, and I get the feeling they might need some help with all the talk that’s going on around town.”
She nodded some more.
“I’m not sure how Grady’s going to feel about this, though.”
She screwed up her face in a Who the hell cares what he thinks? expression. Being the overprotective momster she could be, she had an issue or two with Grady—mainly because she blamed him for my moving to Chicago in the first place.
“You’re right. The twins are family,” I said firmly. “I just wish I knew how to help. I don’t want to make things worse.” I shook my head and got to my feet. “But you know what? I am absolutely positive that once the medical examiner has looked over everything, he’ll declare that Mr. Masterson died of natural causes.”
* * *
“So did you hear that Mr. Masterson may not have died of natural causes?”
I fake-cried a few breaths. “Freddie, I haven’t even had my coffee.” I tied my mom’s boat off at one of the posts on the marina’s dock and wiped my hands on my jeans. It was pretty cold. I’d need gloves soon. “Don’t be messing with me.”
He swayed back and forth on his heels, arms folded across the front of his uniform. “I’m not. Rumor has it the medical examiner won’t sign off on anything until he runs more tests.”
I groaned and rubbed my eyes. Thanks to me.
“Yeah, Mrs. Masterson is dead-set against—oh, bad choice of words,” he said, bringing a hand to his mouth, before whispering, “an autopsy. But again—”
“Rumor has it,” I filled in.
“Rumor has it that the medical examiner is going for a court order,” Freddie said with a knowing nod. He then raised his eyebrows and made a clicking sound with his tongue. “So you know what I’m thinking?”
“Oh God, here we go.”
“Mrs. Masterson probably offed him in a fit of jealous rage because he was having an affair with—” Freddie stopped talking to take a step away from me. “—with someone.” He then took a hurried sip from his coffee, peeking up at my reaction over the rim. “So what do you think?”
I didn’t say anything, just planted my fists on my hips and looked up at the sky.
“Erica?”
Still nothing.
“You’re mad. I knew you’d be mad. You’re doing that thing where you rub the side of your teeth with your tongue like you’re cleaning them—gross habit by the way—and you only do that when you’re mad.” He took another step back. “But, hey, it’s better that you hear it from me. I’m sure I’m not the only one thinking it.”
“I heard nothing, Freddie,” I said as flatly as I could.
He squinted.
“I heard nothing … because you said nothing,” I said with a sharp nod. “And do you know why that is?”
“Um, no?”
“Because you heard nothing, and, really, that means that you have nothing to say. And that’s the end of that.”
I stomped past him on the dock. I really could not have this conversation until I made it to the Dawg and had a coffee in my hand. This was do over day. Why was everybody trying to ruin do over day?
I heard Freddie shuffling along the planks to keep up with me. He didn’t like docks. The swaying sensation always made him feel like he was falling.
“Come on,” he called out, but the sound was quieter than it should have been, given that he was probably looking down at his feet to make sure they weren’t going for the edge. “I’m on your side. I’m on the twins’ side.”
I stopped at the end of the dock, waiting for Freddie to catch up. “It’s not you,” I said with a sigh. Then I remembered all of Grady’s difficulties with Freddie. “Well, it’s a little bit you. But it’s mainly that I just can’t believe any of this,” I said, throwing my hands into the air.
Freddie carefully stepped over the final lip of the dock onto the ground. “Which part?” he asked with a smile at his ability to once again succes
sfully navigate the dock danger.
“So like every time I come home I can expect a murder?” I asked, meeting his eye. “Is this the new normal?”
“Are you okay?” he asked carefully. “You sound like you’re working yourself up to something here.”
I put my hand on my forehead. “And the twins! I know they had nothing to do with this.” Okay, that was a big ol’ lie. My conversations with the twins and my charades session with my mother had told me they at least had something to do with something. “But that doesn’t matter in this town! You’ve already probably got everyone’s tongues wagging with your theories,” I said loudly, sticking out my palm as though I were serving up a handful of indignation to him.
“Hey! I—”
“And you know what this means, don’t you?” I asked, nodding angrily. “Grady’s going to be working! Probably all week. Maybe even the weekend! I’m never going to get him on that Ferris wheel or … or get him to win me some teddy bear at some overpriced game!”
“Well, that’s probably—”
“Which sucks! On so many levels!”
“It does, but—”
“How am I supposed to be able to figure out what’s going on with me and Grady if we can’t find any time to spend with each other that isn’t about murder … or you!” I shouted with probably a little too much disgust on my face.
“Hey, I can’t help it if—”
“I mean, we need some quality time together that involves more intimacy than you can get through a phone!”
“Ew.”
“It’s ridiculous!” I shouted, turning to make my way back in the direction of coffee.
“Hey!” Freddie called out after me. “You know what else is funny?”
“What?” I answered tiredly.
“I bet you Mr. Masterson would have thought his murder would have been a little bit more about him.”
I skidded to a stop. A moment later, I glanced up from the dirt I was staring at to meet Freddie’s eye. “I hate you so much right now.”
He nodded. “I’m keeping you firm on the path to righteousness.”
I eyed his smile. “You could look a little less pleased with yourself.”
“I am grateful for the small things gifted to me by life.”
Pumpkin Picking with Murder Page 7
