“Hi, Miss,” I said, struggling to sit down next to her. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” said the woman stoically.
“I went to school with Marvin,” I said, reaching my hand out. “My name’s Zoey. Zoey Foster.”
“Nicole,” she said absently. I dropped my hand after it became clear she didn’t see it offered to her. She continued to stare at the ambulance as they finished loading Marvin in it. They started the vehicle back up and began to drive away.
“I’m sure you don’t want to talk right now, but would it be okay if I asked you a couple of questions?” I asked.
“Go ahead.”
“Is there anyone you could think of that would want him dead?” I asked.
Nicole watched the ambulance disappear for a moment, before she turned and looked at me for the first time.
“Want him dead? What do you mean?” she asked.
“I mean, did he have any enemies? People that might wish him ill?”
“Y… You think someone murdered him?” she asked, eyes widening.
“Maybe you shouldn’t lead with such a strong question when talking to a widow,” offered Bart. He was probably right, but it was too late now.
“It’s a possibility,” I nodded. “Can you think of anyone that would want him dead?”
Nicole thought about it for a moment. “I don’t believe so.”
“Are there any people that would benefit from him dying?” I asked.
“How would someone benefit from his death?” she asked. “You mean, financially? I suppose… I suppose you could argue I would benefit from life insurance. Am I a suspect, now?”
“I’m not saying that,” I said. The spouse usually is a top suspect, but there wasn’t any reason to mention that to her. “I heard people came to your house to pick you up, is that true?”
“It is,” she nodded.
“That would make it harder for you to be the one who killed him, then. Assuming anyone killed him. Was he allergic to anything?”
“He was lactose intolerant, but that was it,” she said. “He was so invested in these chili cook-offs, it would be hard to be very involved if you were allergic to very much.”
“I’m not very familiar with how this works,” I admitted. “Are all the cooks judges as well?”
“They are. Everyone goes around to try the various chili, and then about halfway through the day they all vote on the best one. You aren’t allowed to vote for your own chili, to make it fair.”
“Is that the way it works at all the cook-offs?” I asked.
She nodded. That was good to know.
“If someone wanted to kill him, they would know Marvin would be trying the chili from all the other competitors,” said Bart. I was thinking the same thing. That would also explain why no one else had gotten sick or died. The cook could be serving their regular chili, and then when Marvin came by to sample the killer’s chili, they could hand him a pre-made deadly version.
“I’ve heard that there are various cook-offs in the surrounding towns,” I continued. “Would you typically go with him?”
“Occasionally. The spouses are welcomed to come with, but most don’t go to every single one. It gets a bit boring, to be honest. Maybe I should’ve gone to this one… Maybe if I was here he… he…” Nicole broke down, sobbing into her hands. I put in arm around her, unsure of how best to comfort her. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through, but getting asked all these questions afterward couldn’t be easy.
“Zoey?” asked a man’s voice.
I looked up to see Drake, staring down at us with a raised eyebrow.
“Hi,” I smiled back sheepishly.
“I thought I told you to leave?” he said, motioning for a policewoman nearby to comfort Nicole.
“Last time I checked, I was allowed to be here if I wanted to,” I said, letting go of Nicole as the other woman crouched down. I tried to stand up confidently, but stumbled into Drake’s chest.
“So you decided to come back and make Marvin’s wife cry?” he asked, catching me.
“I-No! Obviously I didn’t meant to do that,” I said defensively, pushing back from him.
“So why are you here?”
“I thought I’d look around, ask some questions,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Questions?” he said. “Practically the whole police department is here doing that. Are you saying you don’t think we can do this on our own?”
“I never said that,” I said, lifting my hands up. “I just thought what happened to Marvin looked suspicious, and there were some people that I wanted to talk to about it.”
“Why don’t you share with me what you know, then,” he said. “Since you have full faith in us.”
“I also never said that,” I smiled. “Obviously, I think you’ll be able to figure it out. I just think time is of the essence, and I wanted to make sure it gets done quickly.”
“So we’re competent… just slow,” he chuckled.
“Your words, not mine.”
“You’re not withholding pertinent information from the police, are you?” he asked.
I thought about what all I could share. If I shared information with him, maybe he’d share what they have with me. I couldn’t tell him I knew about the other mysterious murders in other towns, since he might not even know about them yet. Even if he did, he would wonder how I got that information. He would be even more suspicious if he knew I had the list of Springhill’s cook-off participants in my pocket. It probably wasn’t worth it to share what I knew, even if it was all small.
“Of course not,” I smiled, backing away. I had several more people to talk to before the event was over, and should get back to it. “Best of luck catching the killer.”
“There’s not always a killer involved, you know,” he said, shaking his head.
“I guess we’re about to find out,” I said, merging back in with the crowd.
Chapter 6
“Why don’t you want to tell him what you know?” asked Bart, following me to the next person to question. “The police might know more than you do right now.”
“They might,” I shrugged. “But it isn’t worth all the followup questions he would have for me. It’s for the best if he doesn’t know about Derek.”
“If you say so,” said Bart.
“What, you think it would go well if I said I had a werewolf contact giving me the inside scoop?” I asked. A woman in the crowd gave me a weird look. I should probably keep my voice a little lower.
“Not in those words,” he said. “Bridgette seemed to take you being a witch pretty well. Maybe it would be okay to eventually tell Drake.”
“You were the one that swore me to secrecy about it in the first place!” I whispered back.
“I did, because it historically ends up getting people killed. Also, the agents of the Other don’t like humans knowing about their business. Maybe times are changing, though. Besides, if you are actually wanting to have a long term relationship with this guy, it’s bound to come up.”
I thought back to when my father left after my mother told him the truth. He was so angry, so confused. If she never told him, maybe he would’ve stayed. I couldn’t risk destroying any sort of relationship I could have with Drake. It could go worse than just him leaving, too. Perhaps I’d end up in an insane asylum, or a secret government facility.
“Bridgette is an exception,” I mumbled.
“Possibly,” agreed Bart. “It’s your call on the matter. I’m fine with no one else ever knowing.”
The next person I wanted to talk to was Lucas Stoddard, the married man. I didn’t have much to go on besides the fact that he was at the previous chili cook-off, but it was better than nothing. When we arrived, we found Lucas talking with a bald man.
“That guy looks familiar…” said Bart.
As we got closer, the two men stopped talking and smiled in our direction. The cat was right. The bald man was the one we saw at Mar
vin’s chili station when he brought Drake and I there a few hours ago.
“You were talking with Marvin earlier, weren’t you?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” nodded the man. “I remember he brought you and the detective up to the front of the line. Your name was Zoey, if I’m not mistaken? I’m Chad Buchanan.”
“Nice to meet you, Chad,” I said. “How did you know Marvin?”
“I’m one of the chili cooks here, and had made friends with him long ago. He’s got such a skill at detecting various ingredients in dishes, so I’ve always made it a point to accompany him as we judge.”
“Were you there when he died?” I asked. This could be helpful in figuring out what killed him.
“I was, unfortunately. I was just telling Lucas about it. There was nothing I could do but shout out for help…” said Chad, staring off into the distance as the scene played before his eyes again.
“Poor Marvin never got a chance to vote before he passed,” said Lucas, shaking his head. “Didn’t even get to try all the chili.”
“He didn’t try them all?” I asked.
“No,” said Chad. “We always build up a collection of the top contenders, try them, and then move on to some of the newcomers. They rarely are that good, so we prefer to start with the best.”
“Which ones did you have?”
“Marvin’s and mine, Lucas’, Mary’s, and John’s,” Chad shrugged. “Normally there are more to choose from, but most of the old guard didn’t make it out this time.”
If the killer poisoned the chili, that must have meant it was one of those. It wouldn’t have been his own chili, obviously, so that narrowed down the suspects to the three I already had, plus Chad.
“What was the order you ate them in?” I asked.
“Now let me think,” he said, rubbing his hand through his none existent hair. “I believe it went John, Lucas, Marvin, Mary, and finally mine. Why do you ask?”
“To be honest, I think Marvin might have been murdered.”
“Murdered?” asked Lucas. “But why?”
“I’m sorry Miss, but I find that very hard to believe,” said Chad. “Everyone loved Marvin!”
“That’s what I keep hearing,” I muttered. “Finding the motive is turning out to be very difficult.”
“Well, I could see someone wanting to kill him,” shrugged Lucas.
“Really?” Chad and I said at the same time.
“Of course. He’s won nearly all the chili competitions since I can remember,” said Lucas. “Maybe someone, or a group of people, decided that enough was enough, and they decided to take him out. That way they could win.”
“What does the winner get as a prize?” I asked.
“A certificate,” said Chad.
“That’s it? No prize money or something like that?”
“We make chili for the love of it. Why would we need to win money for doing something we love?” asked Lucas.
“How lame is that?” asked Bart. “They go through all of this effort to win, and they don’t even get anything for it?”
I shot Bart a quick look. Even though we didn’t think the certificate was that important, maybe these people did. Even so, did they really think it was so important that they would kill over it?
“I suppose that since you think there was a murder, that the method was poison?” asked Chad.
I nodded. “It’s what makes the most sense at the moment.”
“And since the last chili he tried was mine, I suppose you now believe me to be the killer?”
I hesitated. I didn’t have much to go on, but that was the way I was thinking. He was with Marvin since I last saw him, and was there when he died. He easily could’ve slipped something in the victim’s chili without Marvin noticing, or could have already prepared a deadly mixture to give to him before hand. Since it was normal for the two of them to taste test together, Chad would’ve had plenty of time to plan this out.
“I’ll take your non-answer as a yes,” he nodded solemnly. “Very well. I should really get back to my station, but I’d be happy to answer any questions you may have about Marvin’s final moments. That is, if you think you can trust my words.”
“You’re a pro at this, Zoey,” said Bart sarcastically.
“Were there any symptoms that Marvin had before he died?” I asked. I felt horribly awkward questioning someone who knew I thought they were the killer, but I had to get these questions answered. Marvin needed justice. “Anything out of the ordinary?”
“As I told Lucas, after eating a bite of my chili he started to feel sick. He started gagging like he was going to throw up, and I tried to get him to sit down. Shortly after, he started to complain how spicy the chili was. I thought he was crazy,” said Chad, shaking his head.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“None of the chili we had was spicy at all,” said Chad, running his hand over his head again. “He kept complaining about how his mouth felt like it was on fire. After maybe a minute of complaining, he collapsed.”
“That sounds horrible…”
“It was,” he nodded. Chad pulled out his phone to look at the time. “I really need to get going. Anything else you’d like to ask the killer before he leaves?”
“Surely you see where I’m coming from,” I said.
“I do,” he nodded. “But I’m innocent. I know there isn’t anyway for me to prove that to you, but I am. I’ve already talked to the actual police, and they didn’t arrest me. Anyway, I’ve got to get going. Feel free to come accuse me by my station if you get bored.”
Chad walked away before I could say anything else. It was probably for the best. For some reason I wanted to believe that he wasn’t the one who killed Marvin, but it was all very suspicious. I glanced back to Lucas.
“That was rough,” he said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. I changed the subject. “Are you a full time cook?”
“No way,” he laughed. “I love making chili, but I love my actual job even more.”
“What do you do for work?” I asked.
“I’m a construction worker,” he smiled. “Been working for Parker’s Construction for nearly twenty years now. We work on commercial and residential properties, and we’ve helped build nearly a third of the buildings in Springhill.”
“Very impressive,” I said. “It sounds like you really love it.”
“Absolutely,” he nodded. “My wife doesn’t like all the hours I have to work, but she can’t really complain when she sees the paycheck.”
“Where is your wife, by the way?” I asked.
“She didn’t want to make the trek out to Twistchapel,” he said, a bit of annoyance in his voice. “She’s always asking me to take her to new places, but then doesn’t want to come when the cook-offs take me there.”
“Twistchapel isn’t very far from Springhill. Maybe she didn’t feel like it was extravagant enough?” I offered.
“Probably not,” he said, shaking his head. “She was more than happy to go to Ravendale with me, though. Don’t understand that woman, sometimes.”
“Ravendale had a cook-off?”
“Yup,” he said. “I’ve never been much of a fan of the place, but my wife really liked it. Hoped it would make her want to come to other cook-offs, but it didn’t work out that way.”
“Speaking of other cook-offs, I heard a rumor that a man involved in the Springhill one died,” I said. “You’re from there, right? Did you know the man who died?”
“Ned McFinn? He was a good man. Shame he died.”
“Such a bizarre way,” I added.
“Yeah, a sword through the back,” said Lucas, shaking his head in disbelief. “You think to worry about guns and bombs, when all of a sudden you find out people are dying by swords and poison. It’s like we reverted back to the middle ages, huh?”
“It’s a crazy world we live in,” I agreed.
“Maybe people will start believing in werewolves and vampires again,” he said. “All those monste
rs that go after innocent, regular people.”
“Well, they weren’t all bad…” I said. The majority of the werewolves and vampires I had actually met were very friendly.
“You ever hear a story with them as the good guys?” he scoffed. “Doesn’t happen.”
I shrugged noncommittally. There wasn’t much of a point in arguing over what he would think of as fairy tails or urban legends.
“Anyway, it was nice talking to you, but I need to finish handing out samples of this chili,” Lucas said, taking up his ladle again and pouring into cups. “Once I run out, I think I’m just going to head home. I don’t care about winning this anymore.”
“You don’t?”
“After what happened to Ned, and now Marvin, I think I’m done with these cook-offs for a while,” he said, hanging his head low. “This was meant to be a fun time to bring people together…”
“I’m sorry, Lucas,” I said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Lucas straightened up and took a step back. “I appreciate your proposition, Miss, but again… I’m married.”
“I-I didn’t mean like that!” I said, my face radiating heat again. “I… I…”
“Just turn around and leave, Zoey,” laughed Bart. “You’re not going to be able to get out of this any other way.”
“T-Thanks for your help,” I said, rushing away and covering my face with my hands.
“Smooth talking as always,” chuckled Bart.
“Oh, shut it.”
Chapter 7
Resolved to not have an encounter like that again, I went in search of Mary Rigoli. On my way over to her station, I heard a familiar voice through the crowd.
“And another thing. Why can’t this be just a two hour long event, during the middle of the day? That way it wouldn’t bother anyone!”
“Charline?” I asked, seeing an older woman yelling at a police officer. The man looked like he would rather be anywhere but there. Was that her?
The Watchful Werewolf Page 4
