The Bigfoot Blunder (A Charlie Rhodes Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Amanda M. Lee

  Is that how a wife makes excuses for her husband’s infidelity? If so, she should put a little more effort behind the lie. “I don’t know your husband,” I explained. “I mean … I saw him, but I don’t know him.”

  “I know you’ve heard the rumors,” Phyllis countered. “You think he’s a cheater. You think he slept with that Schilling slut. Well, he didn’t. He wouldn’t do that.”

  “Ma’am, I don’t know what to tell you.” I felt helpless and held up my hands in a placating manner. “I’m not a police investigator. I work for the Legacy Foundation. We’re checking to see if an animal was involved in her death. If this is murder by human hands, well, we’ll have nothing to do with the outcome.”

  “An animal?” Phyllis’ expression was hard to read. “I heard that they thought it was an animal at first but ruled that out.”

  “And where did you hear that?” I was legitimately curious. I had a hard time believing Landon and Chief Davenport would share that sort of information with the media.

  “It’s just something I heard around the resort,” Phyllis replied, averting her eyes. “Are you saying they don’t know if a man or beast killed Penny?”

  “I’m saying that if they do they haven’t shared the information with me,” I cautioned. “I can’t say either way, because I’m not in the inner circle.”

  “But I saw you with Bay Winchester,” Phyllis pressed. “She dates that FBI guy. It was the talk of the town for two straight months when it first happened.”

  “Yes, well, that’s neither here nor there,” I said. “I’m staying at The Overlook and I did ride to the resort with Bay, but our avenues of investigation aren’t exactly overlapping.”

  “That’s news to me.” Phyllis swished her hips a bit, as if she was trying to let the new information wash over her. “It’s important that you know that my husband was not having an affair with Penny. He’s not the type of man who would do something like that. In fact, we’re very much in love.”

  “I’m sure that you are.”

  Phyllis acted as if she didn’t hear my comment. “My husband is faithful … and loving … and he’s such a good provider.”

  She kept pulling out that “good provider” nonsense. I couldn’t decide if she was really trying to convince me or herself of her husband’s innocence and his beneficence. “I’m sure he is.”

  “He would never cheat on me.” Phyllis was firm. “All of the women at the resort make up lies about him because they all want him to notice them. He’s handsome and everyone has a crush on him. But I got him. They’re jealous. I’m in a position of power at the resort, and the other women can’t stand it. All of the whispers … well … they stem from jealousy. You must see that.”

  “I can see that when you work in that type of environment it’s probably hard to stay clear of gossip,” I offered. “As for your husband … I don’t know him, ma’am. I’m not part of the investigation. You’ll have to take this up with Agent Michaels.”

  I’m not talking to that guy no matter what,” Phyllis huffed. “Everyone knows he makes excuses to cover for the Winchesters. He’s even willing to frame other people to do it.”

  “Why would he need to make excuses for the Winchesters?”

  “Because they’re crazy and evil,” Phyllis replied. “Everyone knows it.”

  “I … well … okay.” I wasn’t sure what to say. The woman seemed manic, as if she was too scattered to focus on one part of the conversation. “I’ll make sure that Bay and Landon are aware that your husband wasn’t cheating on you.”

  “Yeah, you do that.” Phyllis lowered her voice and I was almost certain she was going to shuffle away. Instead she lunged at me, taking me by surprise when she grabbed my shoulders and shoved her face in mine. Her ski-slope nose was only inches from me and I could feel her breath hot on my face. “My husband is a good man! You tell them!”

  Even though I wasn’t physically afraid of Phyllis I couldn’t stop my heart rate from climbing. “I will.”

  “You tell them!”

  “I … will.”

  “You tell them!” Phyllis gave me an exaggerated shake, snapping my head back and forth and making my mind go loopy. I lost my balance as I tried to remain upright. Thankfully someone moved in behind me before I could lose my footing and careen into the pavement.

  It was Thistle, and she didn’t look happy.

  “What the heck is going on here?”

  Phyllis managed to recover relatively quickly when she saw the teal-haired woman. “I … have to go.”

  “Why are you here in the first place?” Thistle challenged.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  And just like that, Phyllis scurried away from us and back to her car.

  “What was that?” Thistle asked, turning to me.

  “I have no idea, but it was really weird.”

  “Do you think? I always knew that woman was crazy.”

  “Funnily enough, that’s exactly what she said about your family,” I countered.

  “Yes, but we’re fun crazy, not ‘I-need-a-straitjacket-and-electro-shock-therapy’ crazy,” Thistle replied dryly. “Come on. I’ll get you some tea. Then you can tell me all about Phyllis Grimes and how freaking crazy she is. That’s one story I can’t wait to hear.”

  25

  Twenty-Five

  “Are you okay?”

  Thistle’s gruff demeanor softened noticeably as she led me into her magic store, Hypnotic. I nodded as I glanced around, smiling at the homey interior. The store felt like the Winchesters. There was no other way to describe it. An aura of ease that was difficult to ignore washed over the store.

  “She didn’t attack me or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said, forcing a smile. “She was just a little manic.”

  “Yeah? I know Phyllis Grimes a little bit, but only because she lived around here for years. She was about ten years older than us, but she had a certain … um … reputation.”

  Well, that was interesting. “What kind of reputation?”

  Thistle’s smile was enigmatic. “Do you want some tea?”

  “Is it a long story?”

  “It’s certainly not a short one.”

  “Then I’d love some tea.”

  Thistle hurried around the counter and disappeared into the back room. Her absence gave me a chance to look at the bevy of items the store offered, all of which intrigued me. Thistle found me staring at a display shelf full of skull candles when she returned, wordlessly handing me a mug of tea before sipping her own.

  “Do you make these?” I asked, rubbing my finger over the top of a purple calvera.

  Thistle nodded. “I’m better with the crafty stuff. Clove is happier dealing with the customers. I don’t think anyone would rate my customer service skills very highly, but Clove is amazing with the shoppers.”

  “So you’re more behind the scenes and she’s more in front of the crowd,” I mused, tracing my fingers over the small table in the corner where a tarot deck sat. “Who does the readings?”

  “Mostly Clove.” Thistle’s eyes were keen as she looked me over. “She has a certain … gift.”

  “Do you have a gift?” I asked.

  Thistle shrugged. “Everyone has a gift, right? I’m good with crafts and artistic endeavors. Have you seen that metal witch down in the town square? I made that sculpture last year.”

  “I did see that.” I nodded appreciatively. “You’re gifted.”

  “I get that from my mother,” Thistle clarified. “She’s really good with craft projects, too.”

  “Is she the only one in your family good at crafts?”

  Thistle tilted her head to the side, considering. “I guess it depends on what you define as ‘crafts.’ We all have our strengths. Aunt Tillie makes a mean bottle of wine. And she’s a tremendous gardener.”

  “Pot?”

  Thistle smirked. “Who told you?”

  “Phyllis Grimes mentioned it,” I answered without hes
itation. “She said you were all crazy and that your great-aunt grows pot to sell to the local kids.”

  Thistle remained silent but didn’t appear to be offended by the assertion.

  “It’s true?” I prodded.

  Thistle shrugged and held her hands palms up. “It’s true that Aunt Tillie has a horticultural streak that makes the two law enforcement officials in our lives unbearably agitated and uneasy.”

  I giggled at the way she phrased it. “I see.”

  “I’m not sure you do, but that’s okay,” Thistle said. “Aunt Tillie likes her pot. She claims she has glaucoma.”

  The idea of the feisty Winchester matriarch going blind made me inexorably sad. “Does she?”

  “Not that any doctor has ever diagnosed,” Thistle replied. “She simply likes her pot.”

  “I see.” That lightened my worry. “Does the rest of the family mind?”

  “The pot field keeps her busy, which keeps her out of everyone’s business … at least to a limited degree. The only time people care is when she takes young Annie – she’s the daughter of a close friend who used to work at the inn, and Aunt Tillie adores her – to the field. Then things get dicey.”

  “Even Landon doesn’t mind?”

  “Landon … um … Landon is all talk,” Thistle replied after a beat. “He’s an FBI agent and he believes in law and order, but he would never arrest Aunt Tillie.”

  “Because of Bay?”

  “Because he loves Aunt Tillie as much as we do,” Thistle answered. “Of course, she drives him just as nuts as she drives us, so it’s a family thing. Landon is family. He loves Bay and would never purposely hurt her. Despite his threats to the contrary, he’d never arrest Aunt Tillie. He’d find a way around it.”

  “And Chief Davenport?”

  “Terry has known about Aunt Tillie’s field longer than Landon, but pretends he doesn’t know about it,” Thistle replied. “He’s a good man with a wonderful heart. We’ve known him as long as I can remember. He wouldn’t arrest Aunt Tillie either. He threatened her often when we were kids because she’d take us on adventures. He never once followed through … and yet he caught us numerous times when we were torturing Mrs. Little. Aunt Tillie claims he arrested her, but I don’t believe it.”

  “So he keeps your secrets,” I mused, carrying my tea to the couch that rested in the middle of the store and sitting. “What other kind of secrets does he keep for you?”

  I had no idea why I asked the question. I didn’t expect Thistle to own up to anything. The way she narrowed her eyes made me realize I caught her off guard, but she was on edge given the lackadaisical way I pressed her. As much as I wanted to know who or what killed Penny Schilling – and I desperately wanted to know – I was determined to uncover the Winchesters’ secret, too.

  “I guess you’ll have to ask Bay about that,” Thistle replied. “I believe he keeps a lot of dirty secrets for her.”

  It was a masterful deflection, I had to give her that. She wouldn’t answer truthfully – that much was certain – so I let the topic drop. “I’m pretty sure all of his dirty secrets have to do with bacon, so they’re not really secrets, are they?”

  Thistle shrugged, her eyes weighted with worry as they locked with mine. “Everyone has secrets.” She sipped her tea, never shifting her gaze, and then finally the atmosphere in the store relaxed as she crossed one leg over the other. “So, tell me what Phyllis Grimes wanted.”

  “She wanted to make sure that I realized her husband wasn’t a sleaze who has affairs all over town … especially with Penny Schilling.”

  “I don’t know Bob Grimes all that well, but there’ve been rumors about him for as long as I can remember,” Thistle mused, leaning back in the chair. “We’re not exactly resort people. We don’t golf or ski, so we don’t have occasion to visit there very often.”

  “The dining room looks nice.”

  “It does, but my mother and aunts absolutely adore cooking. They’d pitch a fit if we ate a lot of meals there,” Thistle explained. “Actually, I think Bay and Landon went up there for a romantic meal a couple of months ago. They wanted time to themselves. I think there was a fight about it.”

  “Isn’t there always a fight in your family?”

  “We simply call it communication,” Thistle replied, unruffled. “As for Phyllis, there are some very unflattering stories about her. I guess it depends on who you talk to. There’s a small group of women who think she’s a victim, but the rest of the town believes she’s earned what’s happening to her.”

  Huh. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I guess I’m missing part of the story.”

  “You are.” Thistle smiled, clearly enjoying her role as narrator for what looked to be a torrid tale. “So, Bay ran down the list of Penny Schilling’s boyfriends. It’s like a blast from the past for Walkerville’s Class of 1996.”

  I stared at her.

  “Hemlock Cove used to be known as Walkerville,” Thistle volunteered helpfully.

  “Yeah, I know. I don’t know what that has to do with the investigation.”

  “I’m getting to it,” Thistle said grouchily. “Don’t rush me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Anyway, so Phyllis, Bob, Shane Norman and Jim Green all graduated together,” Thistle said. “I don’t know if they were friendly. When they were in high school I was still decorating tree houses with Clove and Bay.”

  “Got it.”

  “You have to understand that there aren’t many job opportunities for people who choose to stay in Hemlock Cove,” Thistle explained. “Back then there were even fewer good jobs. You either worked at the resort or you didn’t get full-time wages and benefits. Walkerville’s manufacturing base died with the tire factory that closed a long time ago. That’s why the township council decided to rebrand the town as a tourist destination.”

  “Which seems to have worked out well for you,” I pointed out.

  “It has, but it was a big risk when the council members made the decision,” Thistle said. “The resort was it for a lot of people. I remember listening to my mother and aunts talking when we were kids. They were worried we would have no choice but to move out of Walkerville after graduation if we wanted to get good jobs.”

  “You didn’t want that?” It was hard for me to imagine purposely picking a town the size of Hemlock Cove to live in forever. I love travel and am fond of big cities. Hemlock Cove almost seemed stifling with everyone knowing everyone … and all the secrets they’re desperate to keep.

  “I always knew I would stay,” Thistle replied. “I think Clove did, too. I had no idea what I would do, but the idea of leaving Walkerville freaked me out. Bay, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to get out.”

  “But she’s here.”

  “She’s here now,” Thistle clarified. “She moved to Detroit for several years after graduating from college. She wanted to work for a big newspaper – and she did – but I could tell she missed Walkerville at a certain point. She was excited to move back to Hemlock Cove in the end. Now I can’t imagine her anywhere else. Neither can Landon, and that’s why he moved here.”

  “Even though that has to be tough on his future prospects with the agency?”

  “Landon has decided he wants Bay more than professional glory,” Thistle answered, her lips curving. “I wasn’t so sure at first. I was worried he would break her heart. Now the only thing I worry about is that they’ll break each other because they’re so freaking horny all of the time.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. Unfortunately it didn’t work and I choked out a hysterical giggle.

  “Sorry.” Thistle’s smile was rueful. “Sometimes I simply say whatever comes to my mind.”

  “I have the same problem,” I admitted. “Jack has been on me about it almost from the first moment we met.”

  “Jack seems like a good guy, so you might want to listen to him,” Thistle argued. “I’m the last person who should be giving advice about being blunt, but
sometimes it’s a curse.”

  “I’m starting to see that.” I rubbed the back of my neck and shifted on the chair. “You were telling me about the Class of 1996.”

  “Oh, right.” Thistle seemed eager to return to her story. “So, all of those guys started at the resort right after graduation. They weren’t in the jobs they’re in now, of course. Bob and Phyllis started in the dining room. She was a waitress and he was a dishwasher. I believe Shane Norman and Jim Green started as members of the grounds crew. In the summer they worked on the golf greens to keep them lush and pretty. In the winter they made snow and groomed the ski runs.”

  “Okay, but I’m not sure what that has to do with Penny Schilling’s death,” I prompted.

  “It doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with her death,” Thistle clarified. “I simply wanted you to have the background. The resort itself is like a small town. Everyone knows everyone and they’re all up in each other’s business.”

  “Like your family dinners?”

  Thistle smirked. “Not quite as fun but you get the gist of it. That gossip doesn’t stay at the resort. It spreads. There have been rumors about Bob Grimes for as long as I can remember. I have no idea if he’s slept with hundreds of women – that’s what the rumors indicate – but there are far too many whispers for some of it not to be true.”

  “So you think that Bob Grimes was screwing around on his wife, and that Phyllis might’ve killed Penny,” I surmised. “She seems incredibly manic and determined to keep up appearances. She kept saying what a good provider her husband is, as if that somehow makes up for the fact that he betrayed her trust every chance he got.”

  “I think Phyllis is the type of person who can snap at the drop of a witch’s hat,” Thistle admitted. “I also think she’s at a physical disadvantage if she wanted to kill Penny. Phyllis is small. She’s, like, a few inches taller than five feet. Penny had to have at least five inches on Phyllis. She wasn’t a big woman, but when you’re dealing with dead weight that seems like an insurmountable difference in stature right there.”