Peanut Butter Pies & Dangerous Lies

by Willow Monroe

  “Folks, we’re awfully sorry, but Jimmy is not going to be able to perform tonight. It seems he’s fallen ill. Please remain where you are and allow the rescue squad to get him to the nearest hospital as quickly as possible. Thank you.”

  Murmurs rolled through the disappointed audience. The band began breaking down their equipment almost immediately.

  “He was fine when I saw him earlier today,” I said, watching Withrow follow the gurney off the stage, with Jimmy Bones strapped on board.

  There was even more commotion in the shadows just below the stage and I was glad I wasn’t down there. Now I could make out Jimmy’s security lining up with our local police to make sure everything was kept orderly and quiet.

  Poppy and I sat in silence until the rescue vehicle pulled away from the park, sirens screaming and lights flashing.

  “Do you think it was an allergic reaction?” Poppy asked.

  I shook my head. “I don’t see how it could have been. They were all so careful. Maybe a heart attack.”

  “I hope they get him help in time,” Poppy said, sadly.

  “Me, too,” I replied, as I began gathering up our things. This night was definitely over. “I thought those Accu-Click Injectors were at least supposed to stave off any serious complications until help arrived.”

  “And you said they were everywhere, right?” Poppy asked as she and Tom helped me close down our booth.

  “Everywhere,” I said. “I’m sure he had one or more in his pocket.”

  We’d sold every one of the little pies we’d brought, so there was mostly empty coolers to take back to the diner. As people passed us in the dark, headed for their own vehicles and home, I heard several people crying softly, whispers of questions as to what could have happened to Jimmy Bones.

  The three of us sat there in the darkness waiting for the crowds to thin out. Better to wait here under the stars than be sitting in traffic. Once or twice I saw a shot of red near the stage and knew Vic was down there getting the scoop on whatever had happened. Who knew what wild stories she might get before the night was over?

  On the stage where just about the only lights remained, I saw Tucker speaking with the man who had led me onto the bus earlier in the day. Jimmy’s head of security? I guessed that was the case. He was wearing the bright orange t-shirt the others had worn. It appeared they were trying to make some kind of decision.

  “Come on, I’ll help you get this stuff back to the diner,” Poppy said, tugging at my arm.

  Pulling a wheeled cooler behind me with each hand, I followed her and Tom to my car. We loaded everything inside and I thanked them for their help.

  “You don’t have to go back to the diner,” I told her, suddenly exhausted. “Go on home. I’ll take care of this.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  Headlights from a car eased past and illuminated a look of worry on her face. “I’m sure,” I said.

  After telling me to text her when I was home safely, she and Tom walked away holding hands.

  I stood there for a moment, as other couples passed me, some with children, some alone. Most everyone was shocked into silence by this time. Then I climbed into my car and after about ten minutes, some kind soul allowed me to nose my car into the line of traffic heading out of the park.

  It still took me nearly half an hour to get to the diner. I parked in my usual spot in the back and began pulling coolers out of the car and dragging them over to the back door. This area behind the diner was lit by a lone street light and since I’m rarely out here after dark, I hadn’t realized how, well, dark it was out here.

  I made a note to remedy that situation as soon as I could. My employees needed to be safe.

  Now why did that cross my mind?

  I shook my head, thinking that it was just the way the evening had ended.

  Using my key, I unlocked the back door and, one by one, dragged the coolers into the kitchen. I unpacked any items that needed to be put away and decided to put off washing the coolers out till morning.

  The money from the pie sales was already in the blue zippered bank pouch, and I downloaded the sales receipts from my phone payment app. Poppy would need all of this when she went to the bank and I wanted to be sure I had everything together for her.

  My best friend, Poppy. What would I do without her? I might be the creative genius of our little operation, but she was the real brains. Without her, I’d be lost.

  I was feeling incredibly sentimental all of a sudden. Nothing like a perfectly lovely summer evening turning deadly to make you think about those closest to you. I cared more about her than anyone, and Tucker came in a close second.

  I had just locked my office door, turned out the lights in the kitchen and headed for the stairs to my apartment when my phone chimed. Tucker’s name appeared in the screen.

  I tapped the screen. “Hey, I was just thinking about you.”

  “Not your old boyfriend, Joe?” he asked.

  “No,” I said, and started up the stairs.

  “Have you made it back to the diner?” he asked, sounding as tired as I felt.

  “Yep. Just heading upstairs,” I told him.

  “I have an update on Jimmy’s condition,” he said. “I wanted you to hear it from me.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “What is it, Tucker?”

  By this time I’d unlocked the door to my apartment. I dropped my purse into a kitchen chair but didn’t bother turning on any lights. I was exhausted, my body craving a hot bath and my comfortable bed.

  “So will they just postpone the concert or how does that work?” I asked.

  “No,” Tucker said.

  “I saw you and the guys at work this evening. It looked like you did a good job keeping the crowd at bay,” I told him, when continued to hesitate. It was obvious he didn’t want to give me any more information about the concert.

  “It was good practice for all of us,” he said. “All of my guys did well.”

  I sank down onto the edge of my bed and kicked off my shoes, my thoughts still on that hot bath.

  “So, Jimmy?” I said, to remind him why he’d called.

  Tucker cleared his throat. I heard background noise, a siren that faded away quickly and then he gave some instructions to someone nearby.

  “Are you still at the hospital?” I asked.

  “Leaving now,” he said. “I’ve got to go back out on patrol until things settle down a little bit.”

  That was Tucker, out there working right alongside his men. “Long night ahead,” I said. “Sorry.”

  He grew quiet again and I sensed that he was struggling to tell me, or not tell me, something, though I had no idea what it might be. I waited.

  I heard the solid thunk of a vehicle door closing and the background noise grew quiet. Then I heard an engine start and figured he was back in his cruiser. Finally, Tucker cleared his throat again

  “Starla, I’m so sorry,” Tucker said quietly.

  Immediately, I was on my feet, heart pounding, bath and bed both forgotten. “What?”

  Tucker took a deep breath. “Jimmy Bones is dead.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Oh, Tucker,” I breathed, my heart pounding. Suddenly, my knees were too weak to stand. I sank back down on the edge of the bed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “He was pronounced dead before he even got to the hospital. They did everything they could, but it was too late.” His voice had grown quiet.

  “Oh my Lord,” was all I could think of to say as I replayed what had happened on the stage. All his fans, all the old ladies. So much leopard skin spandex.

  Then my thoughts strayed to when I’d seen him on his tour bus. “Oh my Lord,” I said again.

  The way Jimmy had held the picture of his new wife, touching it tenderly.

  The way he had spoken of my grandmother and her cooking and how much he missed those days.

  “What happened to him?” I finally asked.

  “Not sure yet but
the general consensus is that he had a severe reaction to something.”

  “Was he allergic to anything besides peanuts?” I asked, on my feet again, pacing back and forth now with nervous energy. “And how strictly was the no peanut rule being enforced?”

  “No way to really enforce that. Besides, it was really just meant for anyone who came into close contact with him,” Tucker said.

  “Well, he had a reaction to something.”

  “True. One of his Accu-Click Injectors was right there on the stage beside him, and it was empty. There were injection marks in his thigh. I’ll check it for prints later just to be on the safe side.”

  That was why he had been slapping wildly at his leg. He was giving himself an injection...or several.

  “They’re going to autopsy?” I asked.

  “Yeah, if nothing else just to give his manager and his family some peace of mind,” he said and sighed.

  “Not to mention his fans,” I said, thinking this little town was going to go crazy when this news got out. “You guys have a long night ahead of you?” I asked.

  “Still monitoring traffic and sorting out fender benders and disputes. I’m afraid once this news hits the streets, it’s going to get ugly.”

  My immediate thoughts were how I could help. “Listen, tell your guys I’m going to get a couple of hours sleep and then I’ll open early,” I said. “Free coffee and biscuits. I know they’re exhausted.”

  “I really appreciate that, Starla,” he said sincerely. In the background I heard voices, his radio crackling to life. I heard him put the vehicle in gear. “Sorry, I gotta go. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Tucker, thanks for, for you know, letting me know,” I told him, meaning every word.

  “I just didn’t want you to hear it from someone else and maybe get some wrong information added to it. You know how rumors get started,” he told me.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I’ll keep you updated if I hear anything,” he said and ended the call.

  There was a strange little silence and I had the feeling he was about to say something else.

  “Be safe,” I finally said, my voice only shaking a little.

  He cleared his throat. “You, too.” And then the line went dead.

  Whatever he’d been about to tell me would have to wait until morning. Sinking back down onto the bed, I pulled a quilt over me, closed my eyes and waited for sleep. Again, I went back over my last meeting with Jimmy. His new bride was sure to be devastated and he’d mentioned how his manager had been his closest friend for years. I remembered talking to Herb Fleming, Jimmy’s cook. What would he do now?

  “Grandma, you’ll get to see Jimmy Bones again soon,” I whispered into the dark room. “I bet he’ll play a song on his banjo just for you.”

  Finally, I drifted off to sleep.

  I was awake long before the alarm went off the next morning, which wasn’t unusual. Lying there for a moment in the dark, Tucker’s words rang in my head.

  Jimmy Bones was dead.

  A quick shower and then I headed downstairs to start this day. Everything felt strange. My heart was heavy, my movements sluggish and I felt completely out of sorts. The coffee pots were bubbling away when I pulled a pan of my spare biscuits out of the freezer. I had just popped them into the oven when I heard the bells tinkle over the front door.

  It was Kellen and Axel.

  “Tucker said you had coffee,” he said, sliding onto a stool at the counter. He looked just like everyone else - exhausted. Axel sat on the floor beside him, ears pricked forward, golden eyes bright.

  “Almost ready,” I told him, reaching across the counter to stroke the dog’s large head. “What a handsome guy you are,” I said.

  His tail thumped twice on floor as if he understood me perfectly.

  “You heard the news?” Kellen asked.

  “About Jimmy?” I asked and then nodded. “I’m sure everyone is taking it hard.”

  “I think right now everyone is just stunned,” he said and shook his head sadly. “Shame.”

  “It is,” I poured him a cup of JoeToGo, snapped on the lid and waved away his wallet. “Anything I can get for Axel?” I asked.

  “Maybe a bottle of water. I have his dish in the car,” he said.

  I grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen and handed it over. “Be safe out there,” I told him.

  He waved and the two headed out into the early morning darkness. Axel, at least looked fresh and ready to work.

  Over the next half hour, several officers stopped by for coffee. Some I recognized, some I did not. It also looked like Jimmy’s security team, still wearing their orange t-shirts, had partnered up with a few of them and were helping out. The aroma of baking biscuits filled the diner and everyone seemed thankful for them. It warmed my heart to know all of these men were out there keeping us safe.

  Safe from what? A riot? A fist fight? A traffic jam? Surely, there wasn’t some serial killer on the loose that just happened to start his career by killing Jimmy Bones.

  Gladys and Poppy arrived right after that. Gladys was no longer wearing her leopard print leggings and she barely spoke. She didn’t even turn on any music, but went straight to work in the kitchen.

  “Have you been up all night?” Poppy asked.

  “Most of it. You heard the news?” I asked.

  “I did,” she said. “Starla, I’m so sorry.”

  “Gladys, honey, are you okay?” I asked.

  She nodded and fired up the grill.

  I gave her a quick hug. “Listen, we’re probably going to be slow this morning. It’s Sunday. Why don’t you take off early?”

  She nodded again and continued her work. Soon the diner was filled with the aroma of bacon and sausage frying and more of her delicious biscuits. It was beginning to feel a little more normal, but things still felt strangely off kilter.

  I was right about the diner being slow. The few that did wander in off the street seemed subdued, almost stunned as we all processed the news that Jimmy Bones was dead. Mayor Gillespie never came in at all, but sent his secretary in for breakfast for the two of them. Vic showed up with Tiffany Samples from the health food store. They ordered food to go and I heard them telling Poppy that part of the order was for the yoga studio as well. No farmers club meeting this morning. Even Mrs. Bradley stayed at home.

  The only ones that did show up and lingered any time at all were part of Jimmy’s security and our local law enforcement. They all looked exhausted, and yet there was some kind of nervous energy running through the diner.

  “The diner feels different this morning,” I told Poppy right after she’d rung up Tom’s order, kissed him goodbye and sent him on his way. He’d volunteered to help clean up in the park.

  “Everyone’s in shock,” she said. “And you look like you’re about ready to fall over.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said, trying for humor and finding none.

  “Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nap?” Poppy suggested.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, thinking that snuggling down into bed might be almost heaven.

  She waved at the nearly empty diner. “I think I can handle this crowd. If I have to, I’ll get Barbara Ellen to come in a little early.”

  “Okay, I think I will,” I said, finally giving in to the exhaustion.

  After checking on Gladys one more time, I climbed the stairs to my apartment. My legs felt like lead. Fully clothed, I crawled into bed and was asleep within minutes.

  A loud banging at my door and my phone ringing at the same time startled me awake.

  “Starla, it’s me,” Tucker said from outside my door.

  I opened the door for him and answered my phone at the same time. It was Poppy.

  “Tucker’s on his way up,” she said.

  I looked up at him. “I know.”

  “I’m coming up, too,” she added and the line went dead.

  Tucker stood in my little kitchen, hat in his hand, but
didn’t seem surprised when Poppy flew in through the door behind him. She closed and locked it behind her.

  That was odd.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, totally confused, looking from one of them to the other. What could have happened? I’d only been asleep an hour.

  Poppy shrugged. “Tucker has something to tell you and it concerns me, too. It concerns the diner.”

  Still a little bit foggy from sleep, I couldn’t imagine what she was even talking about. I rubbed my eyes, trying to force myself into the real world and was surprised when Poppy crossed the room to stand beside me.

  Solidarity.

  This must be big news.

  “Okay, please, someone just tell me what is going on,” I said.

  “Jimmy Bones,” Tucker began.

  I nodded. “Passed away last night,” I finished for him. “You told me.”

  “It seems that all of our precautions weren’t enough. He died from complications from anaphylactic shock,” Tucker said.

  “Meaning?”

  “Starla, preliminary findings show that he was exposed to peanuts.”

  “That’s what killed him?” I gasped, looking from Poppy to Tucker and back again. “But how? Everyone was so careful. And he had those injectors all over the place,” I argued.

  “Apparently, that wasn’t enough to save him last night. The injector he was using right before he collapsed was empty. We’re assuming he gave himself multiple injections but won’t know much more until his autopsy is complete.”

  “But how did peanuts get anywhere near him?” I asked.

  Poppy caught my hand and I looked at her.

  “Your pies, Starla,” she said.

  I shook my head. This wasn’t news. “No, those were sunflower seed butter pies.”

  “That was the only food items brought onto his tour bus that had not been checked out by his cook or security,” Tucker said.

  “Says who?” I asked.

  “His manager, Davis Withrow, for one,” Tucker told me.

  Then it dawned on me. “Tucker, he never even tasted the pies while I was there. I was told to leave them in the little kitchen area and when I came out his cook was putting them in the refrigerator.”