Going Organic Can Kill You
Page 14
“You must be right,” I lied. “Maxwell showed it to me.”
Her expression remained elusive.
“Were you interested in his offer?”
Sheila wiped a tear away. “Not a chance. I mean, sure, his advances were flattering. And one thing I definitely missed about Maxwell was the sex. That man was hung like a horse.”
Oh, ick, yuck. First Queenie talked about a temptress in the woods, now Sheila just had to brag about her well-endowed ex-husband. What was it about me that compelled people to share these details?
Sheila didn’t seem to notice my discomfort as she kept talking. “But I’ve moved on, created a wonderful life for myself. I didn’t want to go back to being somebody’s wife.” Another sob escaped her.
I patted her back, all knots and hard spots. “Don’t beat yourself up. You made the right decision.”
“It’s not that,” she said. “I can’t help but think that if I’d been more gracious when Maxwell presented me with that necklace, he’d still be alive. Instead, I laughed at him for buying me such flashy jewelry.” She gestured to her bracelet. “Really not my style, but Maxwell never worried about that sort of thing. If he liked something, he figured everyone must like it.”
Sounded like most of the guys I’d dated, unable to see outside their own little world of beer kegs and God of War marathons. “Did Maxwell get mad when you laughed?”
“Stormed out. Always did have a lightning temper. That silly man.” Sheila started crying again.
I continued to pat her back, while watching a water strider bug skate across the surface of the springs. While we’d been talking, the sun had moved lower in the sky and now appeared to rest atop the hill. I’d wanted to help Zennia with dinner service, but Sheila was in no shape to stay here alone.
I gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Let’s go back to the cabins where you can rest before dinner.”
Sheila pulled her feet out of the water. “Good idea.” She shook her feet off and dabbed at them with the towel before standing up. She wiped her eyes with the hem of her tunic. “Thanks for listening.” She stuck her feet back in her sandals and picked up the towel.
“Glad to lend an ear,” I said. Especially when I learned new information. While she hadn’t confessed to killing Maxwell, at least she’d cleared up the mystery of the necklace.
I walked toward the bushes that would take me back to the farm, Sheila following a few steps behind.
One question still gnawed at me. After we emerged from the underbrush and stepped back on the trail, I turned to Sheila as we walked. The sun, low at our backs, bathed the ground in golden rays.
“Did you leave a note on Maxwell’s nightstand that asked him to meet you behind the chicken coop for a little fun?”
Sheila’s eyes widened. “Of course not. That’s absurd.”
“Well, you mentioned how good the sex with Maxwell was.” Talking about her sex life, my face suddenly felt warm. Must be from the sun.
Sheila fiddled with her earring. “I’m a little old for a secret rendezvous.”
I tended to agree with her. A more likely choice was Tiffany, if she was throwing herself at Maxwell as he had told Sheila. I’d ask Tiffany next time I saw her.
A loud ringing erupted from my pocket and I pulled out my cell phone. “Hello?”
“Dana, where are you?” I recognized Zennia’s voice.
“On Chicken Run Trail. Is something wrong?”
Static crackled in my ear, almost obliterating Zennia’s words. “People are due for dinner any minute and I need an extra set of hands.”
Dinner was starting? “I had no idea it was so late. I’ll be right there.”
I pressed the END CALL button. We had reached the cabins, and I turned to Sheila.
Before I could speak, she waved her hand. “Go on. I need to change for dinner.”
I jogged around the cabins and past the pool. Sure enough, people were wandering in the side door leading to the dining room. I hurried in the kitchen door.
Zennia had both hands in a glass bowl full of clams, her apron with a cow embroidered on the front covered in bits of slimy stuff. She gestured with her head toward the plates on the counter.
“The Brussels sprouts are ready to go out.”
I rinsed my hands, then grabbed two plates. The smell of my least favorite vegetable hit me in the face and I tried not to gag. Mustn’t let the guests know what they were in for. They’d find out soon enough.
I carted the plates out to the dining room and set them before the first two diners. Both crinkled their noses and looked at me.
“Tonight, we’re starting our meal with a delicious serving of sautéed Brussels sprouts,” I said brightly, pasting a smile on my face. Then I turned and hurried out before they could ask any questions.
Once I’d finished serving everyone, I stepped back and surveyed the room. Neither Tiffany nor Logan was at dinner. Perhaps they were dining out together. A Hollywood starlet and a producer’s assistant, plotting to storm the movie industry.
I noticed an odd silence in the room. Where was the clinking of silverware on china? Several sets of hungry eyes gazed upon me with displeasure. I hastily removed the salad plates, trying not to make eye contact. Someone might stab me with their fork.
I took the dishes back to the kitchen where Zennia stirred a giant pot on the stove.
She glanced at the full plates. “No, Dana, you serve those to the guests.”
“I did. Apparently, Brussels sprouts aren’t a spa favorite.”
“Everyone here wants to see where Maxwell was murdered. These guests don’t care about their health and the role vitamins and minerals play in their diets.” She gestured to the counter. “Oh, well, serve the stew. You can eat the sprouts when you’re finished.”
I eyed the giant green orbs. “Um, thanks, Zennia, but I promised my mom I’d eat dinner with her when I got home.”
“Fine.” She took two plates, stepped on the pedal to open the garbage can, and dumped the contents of both plates into the trash. “But when your colon is suffering, don’t complain to me.”
“I promise, not a word.” I picked up two bowls of stew, wincing as I touched the hot ceramic, and hurried out to the dining room. I thumped the bowls on the table, sloshing broth over the side of each.
“Sorry,” I told the diners, dabbing at the tablecloth with an extra napkin. “Hot bowls.”
If working at the farm didn’t pan out, waitressing should clearly be avoided.
With the diners busily slurping their stew, I returned to the kitchen. Zennia was wiping down the counters.
“Thanks for your help, Dana. I can handle the rest of the dishes if you’d like to go home.”
My stomach growled and I clapped a hand over it. “Thanks, I bet Mom’s waiting right now with that dinner.” If not, I’d make a run through a drive-through somewhere.
I stopped by the office for my purse and found Esther at the desk, a notepad before her.
“Dana, I didn’t realize you were still here,” she said.
I slid the desk drawer open to the left of Esther and retrieved my purse. “On my way home right now. I just finished serving dinner.”
“Aren’t you a dear. I know you weren’t expecting to do all this extra work, but I can’t possibly afford to hire anyone else, even part time.”
“I like the variety.” And the paycheck. If it weren’t for Esther keeping me on to do these odd jobs, I’d be standing in the unemployment line right now.
Esther shook her head. “With all this trouble we’ve been having, poor Arnold would turn over in his grave—if I hadn’t had him cremated.”
“The place just needs a boost, something new to distract everyone from the murder.” I snapped my fingers. “Say, Esther, did you know about the hot springs off Chicken Run Trail?”
Esther pursed her lips and tapped them with a finger. “The hot springs? Haven’t thought about that area in a coon’s age. It’s so far back on the property.”
Esther’s eyebrows came together as she frowned. “But it’s not that close to the trail. How would people even reach it?”
“You’d have to clear out all that brush, make a new trail, maybe add some benches and a shower area. But think of the payoff. That place up the highway, the one that boasts about Jack London being a regular guest, has been open for years.”
“Gee, sounds awful expensive. I don’t have that kind of money right now.”
I swung my arm as I spoke, almost hitting Esther with my purse. “You’d make the money back in new reservations for sure.”
Esther offered a half smile. “I’ll sleep on it. Thanks for trying to help.”
“I know we can make this place a success. We just have to try.”
I left Esther and walked to my car, purse slung over my shoulder. Daylight had all but vanished, emphasizing how fast darkness descended in the country, compared to San Jose and all its lights. I slipped behind the wheel of my Honda and drove home, traffic almost nonexistent on the highway. The few minutes of driving gave me quiet time to reflect on Maxwell’s death.
What did I know so far? Mostly that no one had a very strong motive for killing him. Logan only worked for Maxwell to get his screenplay produced, and after all those silly and sometimes humiliating errands, Maxwell had ridiculed his work. But that seemed like a weak reason to murder someone, especially if Logan was already thinking about finding another job. Had Logan applied to Tiger Shark Studios before Maxwell was killed or after?
What about Heather? Maxwell had caught her trying on the necklace intended for Sheila, but even if Maxwell had reported the incident to Esther, surely Heather would have known that Esther wouldn’t fire her over one guest complaint.
Which brought me to Sheila and the necklace. How odd that those two would just happen to stay at the spa at the same time and that Maxwell would suddenly decide to reconcile in such a short time. Sheila’s story was a little too pat. I’d have to keep my eye on her.
At home, Mom had turned on the porch light and a warm glow embraced the front door. I pulled in the driveway, surprised to see Ashlee’s car missing. The sound of my engine’s fan accompanied me as I exited the car and walked up the path.
I opened the front door, stepped inside, and stopped. Mom stood in the entryway, arms crossed over her chest.
“Dana Marie Lewis, how could you betray me like this?”
Uh-oh. My mind flipped through my actions of the last few days, trying to locate the source of her anger. I wasn’t sure what I’d done, but whenever I heard my full name, I was in deep doo-doo.
17
Before I could speak, Mom took hold of my wrist and dragged me inside, glancing around, probably wondering if the neighbors had seen her in her pink sweat suit with the rhinestone-studded collar, a Christmas gift from Ashlee.
She slammed the door shut. “To think I had to find out from Sue Ellen, of all people.”
Uh-oh. Sue Ellen was Mom’s archenemy in all things gossip-related. Whatever I’d done, Sue Ellen finding out first would only add to Mom’s ire.
“Please, Mom, calm down.”
She stared at me, tapping her slippered foot at warp speed. “Calm down? Calm down? My daughter is dating an absolute hunk and she can’t even tell her own mother?”
“Wait, are you talking about me or Ashlee?” After all, Ashlee was the serial dater in the family.
“Stop playing games, young lady. Sue Ellen saw you on your little date at the Eat Your Heart Out café with that reporter, Jason.”
The fog in my brain cleared. Now the sun shone down with brilliant clarity on those little gray cells. Sue Ellen was the driver of the blue Saturn, the one who had almost hit another car because she was so busy staring at us.
“Jason was interviewing me for the Herald.”
“Over coffee?”
“He suggested moving off site to make the interview more casual. When he was done asking questions, he took me straight back to the farm where he talked to the rest of the staff.”
“Haven’t I told you to stay away from that café? All the bikers hang out there. You’ll get a reputation.”
“New owners. Not a biker in sight.”
Mom continued to tap her foot but had slowed to Greyhound Bus speed. “And you weren’t kissing outside the restaurant?”
“Of course not.”
“Sue Ellen swears she saw you give Jason a quick smooch while standing by his car.”
What on earth was wrong with Sue Ellen? Then the scene from the parking lot came to mind, and I laughed.
Mom eyed me with clear suspicion, ready to disbelieve whatever I said.
“I tripped. On that crappy pavement. I was getting into his car when I stumbled into him.”
“A likely story.”
I shrugged. “It’s the truth. Besides, I’m twenty-eight. I could marry Jason if I wanted to and wouldn’t have to tell you or anyone else.” I pointed down the hall. “I’m going to make my dinner now.”
“No need. I waited for you. The butcher had a big sale on calf liver today.”
Geez, I should have eaten Zennia’s Brussels sprouts. “Where’s Ashlee?” Wouldn’t want her to miss out on liver.
“On a date. At least Ashlee tells me when she’s dating someone.”
“I’m not dating Jason!”
Mom walked into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “If you say so.”
I rolled my eyes and followed behind, watching as she lifted a platter out of the oven. I pulled forks and knives from the silverware drawer.
“Who’s Ashlee seeing now?”
“Some fellow named Rockford.”
I set the glasses on the table with a clunk. “Where did she meet a guy named Rockford?”
Mom placed a hot pad in the middle of the table, then went back for the platter. “Through her friend, Karen. He’s one of her clients.”
“Isn’t Karen a parole officer?”
Mom speared a giant piece of liver and slapped it on my plate. “You know how kindhearted Ashlee is. She believes everyone deserves a second chance.”
I stared at the dark slab of meat. Would she say the same about Maxwell’s killer?
The next morning, I mucked out the sty, while Wilbur and the other pigs snorted at my inexperience. Next time Esther requested I perform this particular chore, I was going to suggest she include it as a possible guest activity. I could already visualize the brochure: EXPERIENCE REAL LIFE ON A FARM! PLAY WITH THE LITTLE PIGGIES! Someone was bound to fall for it.
I spread fresh straw in their bedding area, my cell phone flopping from my pocket onto the ground. One pig tried to sniff it, possibly looking for a snack, but I grabbed the phone and stuffed it back in my pocket. I hosed down the outside ground and dumped a bucket of feed into the trough.
Suddenly Wilbur and the gang weren’t smirking at the new girl.
I stepped out of the sty, checking over my shoulder for any pig followers, but their noses were buried in the trough. The slurping noises turned my stomach a bit. Holding the fence rail for support, I slipped off one rubber boot and stuck my foot in my sandal, then repeated the process with my other foot. Time to wash up.
At the kitchen sink, I squirted extra liquid soap on my hands, scrubbing the skin under hot water until my hands burned. Zennia sat at the table, her black hair up in its usual braid, arranging late-season daffodils in a shallow bowl. The yellow of the flowers was almost an exact match to the color of her scoop-necked blouse. Several cuttings and a matching empty bowl sat on the counter.
“Beautiful flowers, Zennia.”
She moved several daffodils over and added fern sprigs. “Flowers are vital to one’s health, you know. Their beauty and fragrance relax one’s body and free the mind.” She stepped back and eyed the bowl. “I’m setting a bowl on each picnic table.”
“Let me.” I inhaled the scent of the yellow flowers as I carried the bowl out the back door and around to the patio.
Tiffany and Logan sat at the end of one table, playing cards.
As I set the bowl in the center, Logan laid down his hand. “Gin.”
Tiffany giggled. “You are so good at this game. You need to teach me your secrets.” She touched Logan’s hand and he blushed.
Well, weren’t these two kids cozy? Perhaps Tiffany had heard about Logan’s new job and she had her eye on Tiger Shark Studios’ latest movie project.
On the edge of the patio, Sheila sat in a chaise longue, writing in a journal. She wore a beige strapless mesh cover-up over her black one-piece swimsuit.
She glanced up. “Morning, Dana.”
I walked over to where she sat. “How are you feeling today?”
“Much better, thanks. I’m sorry I burdened you with my problems yesterday.”
“I know you guys weren’t married anymore, but I’m sure you still loved Maxwell. My dad died last year and I miss him all the time.” I felt tears form in my eyes as I said the words. I was still surprised at how emotional I got talking about him. And those unexpected reminders were the worst. He’d sometimes buy us cupcakes on Saturdays as a surprise, and even now, walking into a bakery made me cry.
Sheila gripped her journal. “Maxwell will always hold a special place in my heart. That’s why I’m writing in my journal today. To deal with all these emotions. I learned that in my anger management class.”
“Anger management?” I asked sharply.
Sheila waved her hand. “A minor transgression after too much wine. Nothing worth talking about.”
Unless she hadn’t gotten a handle on that anger. Then it was definitely worth talking about. I glanced around, noting the empty pool and vacant lounge chairs. “Awful quiet this morning.”
“Most of the guests decided to caravan over to Mendocino for some early morning whale watching, followed by boutique shopping and wine tasting. They invited me along, but considering I live in Mendocino year round, I’ve sampled enough wine to start a second career as a sommelier.”