by Ami Diane
“How long has he—was he married?”
“Don’t know. He and Lilly were here before I arrived.”
“Lilly’s his wife? The one whose thighs could crack your head open like a walnut?”
“Yes, I suppose she is rather muscular.”
“Are they from Keystone?”
He shook his head, his gaze searching information from some far off point. “No, but I’m not sure where they’re from.”
Back in the diner, the information bounced around in her head while she hung around the cash register as the last of the lunch rush settled their bills. Thankfully, most of it was paid in legal tender—with only one person paying in batteries and another with cheese.
In rare form, Horatio came out of the kitchen and settled himself onto one of the stools. He twirled around, reminding her of a bored toddler.
A strange quiet settled over the place. As much as Ella loved their customers, this was her favorite time of the day. Her brain had time to catch up and process everything, and she could recharge.
After swirling soft serve, homemade vanilla ice cream onto two cones, she sat on the stool next to Horatio. The ache in her feet diminished as they chatted about where he grew up in Italy, and he helped her brush up on her Italian.
As she bit down the last of her cone, she glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been nearly two hours since their boss had left.
“Do you know where Wink went?”
His brows scrunched together. “It was a strange conversation. Someone called about the ‘Save Twin Hills’ campaign. I only heard Wink’s side, but it sounded like they were having an emergency meeting.”
“I didn’t know that there was a campaign to save it.”
He nodded. “They formed a committee after Stan started petitioning for the expansion.”
Ella studied a crack in the countertop. She found it strange this committee hadn’t spoken up during the town hall meeting, then again, it had been hard to get a word in edgewise.
“So, it sounds like Stan’s plan might still go through.” She turned the statement into a question.
“Guess so.”
Worry over Wink began to take root. Several people had expressed their dislike of using Twin Hills for alternative power, but few had as much at stake or as much to lose with the expansion than those who lived near the top, namely Wink.
And with more to lose came more motive for wanting the project leader dead. Chapman may be an old law dog, but he was no fool. He was sure to have Wink in his crosshairs.
Ella also wondered why Wink had never mentioned the campaign to her, consoling herself with the fact that Wink probably had a lot on her plate.
One thing was clear to Ella. Whoever had killed Stan was most likely someone who didn’t want to see the wind farm expanded.
While she rinsed the ice cream from her fingers, she tried to think of who else besides Wink didn’t want the turbines on the hills. The professor. And he’d been sitting beside Wink at the meeting.
She mentally added the reserved, middle-aged gentleman to her suspect list, a man she knew very little about other than the fact that he was Will’s friend and mentor.
But Wink and the professor couldn’t be the only two. She was just about to ask Horatio who else lived on the hills when a customer walked in.
Climbing to her aching feet, she seated them in a booth and handed them each a menu, leaving Horatio to enjoy the last of his break alone.
Another hour later, Wink returned. Other than a strained expression, she seemed her optimistic, spunky self. She even had the gall to suggest another hang gliding adventure—an offer Ella promptly declined, her exact words, something like, “hell no.”
Ella decided to wait for a better time to ask about the committee. It stood to reason that whoever was on the committee had the most to lose with the expansion project, putting nearly all of them at the top of her suspect list. And that wasn’t a short conversation to have with Wink.
When her shift ended, Ella called Will on the local landline to see if he wanted to go for a run. Their connection went hazy with him asking her to repeat the question several times—despite the fact that she could hear him perfectly—ending with him saying she was cutting out and hung up on her.
He’d been less than enthusiastic on their first one. She rolled her eyes and went solo.
Her shoes pounded over the trail as she tried to pump the stress of the day from her body. Rounding the lake, she passed the park on her right.
Children from the caravan camp chased each to and from the water, their laughter bouncing across the water. A woman hovered near the edge, tossing the contents of her bucket into the water. What flew out was red and chunky and looked suspiciously like entrails.
A few yards away, under an elm with leaves the color of fire, Sheriff Chapman talked animatedly at the old man from the day before. His hands gesticulated in the air, trying to get his point across. The visitors had overstayed their welcome.
When Chapman spotted the guts flying through the air, he yelled and strode over to the bewildered woman.
Ella kept her head low as she lumbered past. Soon, their voices faded into the background. Chapman had seemed to be getting his point across just fine without her help.
As the trail curved, the park became forest and cottages and Lake Drive. When she reached the first cottage, a short brownstone with a detached garage, she slowed to a power walk. Her chest heaved, and she grabbed a stitch in her side.
There was a creaking sound as the side door to the garage opened, and a woman came out backward, dragging a large trash bag.
The woman straightened, and Ella recognized the muscular frame and full biceps of Lilly Tanner.
Ella paused and put her hands on her head, pretending to be catching her breath—at least part of it was for show, anyway. Stan’s widow hadn’t noticed Ella yet.
Lilly darted into the garage again, emerging a moment later with another large trash bag. Ella watched her another minute or so before resuming her walk-run.
Everyone coped with the death of a loved one in their own way, she supposed. Apparently, Lilly Tanner’s process of grief involved cleaning.
CHAPTER 11
ELLA walked into the diner kitchen, strutting in her jeans and happy to not be wearing her uniform. On Saturdays, she usually worked a couple of hours, and Wink had relented—after several days of pestering—to letting her forgo the dress on Saturdays.
Ella stopped short, her hands up at her face to fend off the assault on her nostrils. The room smelled like a lemon explosion. The scent was so strong it made her eyes water. Trays and trays filled with hundreds of lemon squares covered nearly every surface in the kitchen. Citrus carnage overflowed from the sink and trash.
“Uh, Wink?”
“Oh, Ella. I didn’t hear you come in.” Wink’s blue hair fell in front of her face as she pulled out another tray of lemon treats. “I’m trying out a recipe. I can’t quite seem to get it right.”
Ella looked over the sea of yellow. From his perch on the fridge, Chester’s tail twitched, and he tugged at his matador outfit, complete with cape. He seemed just as upset about the mess as she was. “Horatio hasn’t been in yet, has he?”
“Not yet. I told him to come in later.”
“Good, good.” Ella put her hands on her hips, her eyes still taking in the war zone. “Hey, do me a favor? Don’t let him see this until I’m in the other room, okay?”
Wink frowned and looked around in confusion. “How come?”
“No reason.”
Resigned to the oncoming storm and dishes she’d have to do, Ella’s quick fingers snatched a lemon bar. It was still warm as she popped it into her mouth. It melted, the perfect mixture of goo and powdered sugar.
She made several noises before saying, “Wink, these are amazing.”
Wink frowned at her. “But are they better than Flo’s?”
Ella’s jaw stopped mid-chew. “Crap, I forgot. The potluck’s tomorrow.�
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She’d planned on preparing for the next one, maybe getting a helmet and elbow pads. Briefly, she toyed with the idea of seeing if Flo had any more pepper spray.
“Anyone ever get seriously injured at one of them?”
“Depends on what you mean by ‘serious’.” Wink’s tongue slipped between her teeth as she ran a lemon over a grater.
“Uh, the kind where they have to see Pauline?”
“Not for a couple months.”
“A couple of months equals about four meetings.”
Wink didn’t respond.
After swiping two more bars, Ella grabbed her apron from its hook. “I’ve never tried Flo’s, but I can’t imagine anything beating these.”
Wink pursed her lips as she measured out sugar. It hadn’t taken long for Ella to learn there was no sense talking to Wink when she was in the zone.
“I need to hurry with this. The wind’s changing, and I want to take advantage.” She glanced up. “I’d invite you to come along, but that didn’t work out so well last time.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It wasn’t so bad up until the part where our feet left the ground. Besides, I’m going to make something for the potluck.”
A new line creased between Wink’s brows. “You’re not going to try to make oatmeal cookies again, are you?”
“Those were Rice Krispies Treats.”
“Oh.” She ran a dishrag over a dirty whisk. “You sure?”
“Yep, pretty sure.”
“Huh. I cracked a tooth on one of them.”
“Well, Stewart didn’t have the cereal, so I had to improvise with actual rice.” What Ella hadn’t done was cook the rice first, something she thought of after Will sampled a bite and winced.
“So, what are you making, then?”
Ella searched through the limited repertoire of recipes she knew she couldn’t screw up. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”
“You could just not bring anything.” Wink’s tone was dripping with encouragement.
“No, I’ll think of something.”
The moment Wink turned to her mixer, Ella seized the opportunity to pinch two more lemon squares and disappeared into the diner.
A few minutes later, Wink poked her head through the passthrough, her cheeks flushed. “I need to run to Stewart’s Market for more sugar.”
“Isn’t there a whole bag of it…” Ella’s voice faded. Wink had already ducked out of sight. Horatio waltzed in through the front door, humming a tune she didn’t recognize.
They exchanged greetings while he poured a cup of coffee. The door jingled as two customers walked in. Ella greeted the young couple and placed menus on the marred table in front of them.
While she poured their coffee, Horatio swung in the door.
“Horatio, wait!”
A loud stream of Italian issued from the kitchen. The couple dropped their menus and exchanged nervous glances.
“He’s fine,” Ella assured them. She had to raise her voice over his. “Probably stubbed his toe.” Her Italian wasn’t the best, but from what she gathered he’d taken to calling Wink every obscenity in the dictionary.
The couple shuffled their menus.
“This happens all the time.”
His voice somehow managed to simultaneously raise an octave yet get deeper at the same time.
“Yep, completely normal.”
He’d moved on from general cursing to questioning Wink’s parentage.
“Have I told you today’s special? No?” She told them about the Reuben, going into further detail than was necessary to drown out the stream of yelling still coming from the kitchen.
After she’d collected their orders and gave them a wan smile, she kicked in the kitchen door.
“Hey, Gordon Ramsay, you mind?”
“What is this?” Horatio waved his hands over the lemony thicket.
“Wink’s testing out recipes for the potluck.” She did her part in reducing the clutter by eating another bar.
She waved her free hand over the mess. “It’s not that bad,” she lied.
The timer dinged.
Horatio’s skin turned a dangerous shade of red as he practically tore the oven door off its hinges.
“There’s more in here.”
Ella pulled the top sheet off of the order pad and slipped it under his nose, hoping to distract him. “Two specials.”
He grabbed his apron, mumbling under his breath and set to work. After grabbing two plates, Ella squeezed them onto the only bare section of countertop she could find.
Horatio dug into the fridge for the corned beef. “Where is the blue-haired devil, anyway?”
Ella leaned against the island, accidentally toppling a tower of lemon squares over. “She ran over to Stewart’s for something.”
He clicked his tongue. “I wish they would just date or something rather than sneaking around and making up excuses to see each.”
“How’s that?” Ella straightened and stopped stacking the treats. Wink and Stewart? Did she not know anything about the woman?
“Didn’t you notice him sitting by her at the town meeting?”
Ella’s face screwed up at the ceiling as she searched her memory. She’d been so focused on the man sitting on her right—the professor—she hadn’t seen who sat on Wink’s left. “Maybe they’re just good friends.”
“And maybe I live in the Coliseum.”
Ella dropped the subject and debated on grabbing another lemon square. There did seem to be too many, but her stomach had begun making abnormal noises.
The indecision only lasted a moment, and she shoved another in her mouth. She decided Wink could experiment all day long if she wanted. Ella had no problem with it. Her waistline might, but she didn’t.
After delivering the couple’s food to them and topping off their coffees with a brew that seemed extra thick, she heard the back door open. There was a moment—a breath—of calm before the storm hit. Both Wink’s and Horatio’s voices erupted.
Ella gave a hollow laugh. “They’re rehearsing for a production for Keystone’s Keys in History. It’s going to be great. You should tune in when it airs.”
Something shattered.
Ella squeezed the bridge of her nose. “You know what? This meal’s on the house. Feel free to leave whenever—”
They both scooted out of the booth and bolted for the door.
“—you want.” Her shoulders sagged.
For the second time that day, she kicked in the kitchen door and caught it as it swung inwards.
“You two realize we have customers, right?” she hissed. “I mean, there’s only two of them, and they just left. But still…” Her eyes fell on a broken plate.
Horatio held up his hands. “All I did was ask her to move her stuff so I can work. I have no space. I can’t work like this.”
“And I called him a feminine wash,” Wink sniffed.
Ella’s frown deepened. “A what?”
“That word you taught me.”
“Douche?”
One of Wink’s skinny shoulders lifted in a half-shrug. “Well, I was close.”
The Italian huffed and yanked off his apron. It flew through the air like a bird and fluttered onto some lemon squares.
“I need some air.” He burst out the back door and slammed it shut.
“And the plate?”
“Chester knocked it over.”
Ella blinked at Wink. “I think you’ve been hanging around Flo too much.”
“Oh, he’ll be fine. I’ll apologize when he comes back. You’ll see. We do this all the time.”
Ella eyed the blue-haired owner. As long as she’d worked there, she’d never seen the two of them argue so badly Horatio walked away.
“Did you get what you needed from the market?”
“Yes. Grabbed another bag of flour.”
“I thought you were going for sugar.”
“Don’t be silly, dear. We have a whole other bag in storage.”
E
lla’s mouth opened and closed a few times.
Turning to the mixer, Wink readied a new batch of squares. Ella eyed the growing mountain. “I don’t think we need all of these tomorrow.”
Wink glanced around. “We can give them out to our new visitors, I suppose.”
Ella liked the idea. She began stacking them in a container she found deep in the bowels of a cupboard.
Her eyes flitted to Wink, and she wanted to ask about Stewart, her curiosity piqued but figured her friend would confide in her when she was ready. Besides, there was something more pressing she wanted to know.
“So… Horatio told me there’s a campaign to save Twin Hills.”
“If that man cooked half as fast as his tongue wagged, there’d never be a wait time here.”
“How come you didn’t tell me about it?”
Wink’s hand paused on the switch for the mixer before dropping to her side, and she faced Ella. Her soft brown eyes held back an emotion Ella couldn’t decipher.
“I’m sorry, dear. I was going to—I wanted to tell everyone. Our plan was to collect signatures right after the meeting, just like Stan. Then, when he turned up dead, well… it just seemed in poor taste. We thought the issue was dead, so to speak.”
“But it isn’t?”
Wink’s hair fell in her face as she shook her head. “We don’t know who, but someone’s still pressuring the council on the matter. That’s what we’ve been meeting about. Now, I’m afraid if I openly resist the matter, people will suspect I had something to do with Stan’s death.”
“But the whole town already knows you live up there. Pretty sure you’re already a suspect.” Ella caught herself. “And I mean that in the best possible way.”
“Yes, but to be actively organizing against Stan’s project, well, that paints me in a different light.” Her gaze lingered pointedly on Ella.
Ella stumbled back, her eyes wide. “Wait, you think I would suspect you had something to do with Stan’s death?” Something deep in her chest twisted, and she felt heat behind her eyes. “Wh-why would you think that about me?”
“Nothing personal, dear. It’s just, I know how curious you are, how you search for answers, and I saw how you suspected Jimmy and Rose of killing Kayline… I just didn’t want to take the chance you’d think the same of me.”
