by R A Wallace
“Yeah, so?” Sharon leaned back in her chair. “I always use your dad’s.”
“I always used Gabe’s.” LeAnn’s smile dimmed. “Whenever he was around.”
“What if Rhonda did it?” Megan stepped closer to the kitchen table. She was still holding the jacket. “What if Rhonda slipped on Grady’s jacket?”
“You think Rhonda killed Gregg Eastman?” Sharon’s smile seemed frozen on her face as she looked down at the jacket. “Why? Why would she do that?”
Megan didn’t know either but once the idea found its way into her head, it seemed to gain momentum on its own. “I don’t know. What are the usual reasons? Greed, but that doesn’t fit. Jealousy? Gregg wasn’t married.”
“Gregg could have wanted to break it off?” Sharon tilted her head then shook it. “What am I saying. We don’t even know if Rhonda and Gregg were involved that way.”
“She’s always so nice. I ran into her not long after Gabe came back to town. I had just made up my mind that I didn’t want to let him move back in with me when he got here. I was having a bad day.” LeAnn made a face. “It was probably obvious just by looking at me.”
“Understandable,” Sharon murmured.
LeAnn gave a ghost of a smile. “Anyway, Rhonda said something to me. Something about do overs.”
“Do over?” Sharon asked.
“Second chances?” Megan guessed.
“Yeah. Rhonda said she wished we had do overs when it came to picking men. She said she always got it wrong.” LeAnn shrugged. “Anyway, at the time it made me feel better. That someone else made mistakes too, you know?”
“Uh.” Sharon’s eyes went to Megan’s. “Maybe she was just being nice.”
“What do you mean?” Megan asked.
“Rhonda and Grady married right out of high school. I’m not even sure they ever dated anyone else.” Sharon glanced at Aaron. He was covered in food from trying to feed himself. She stood and crossed over to the sink to wet a rag. “I could be wrong.”
Megan slid the jacket back over her shoulders. “What if you aren’t?”
Chapter Twenty
“Rosie Godsey,” Jerry read out loud.
“Yeah. I interviewed her. She was baking a cake.” Erica slowed as they neared the address.
Jerry read through the notes Erica made during the interview. “She didn’t have much to say about Grady and Rhonda Waters except that their food products aren’t healthy.” Jerry made a noise of agreement.
“What?” Erica asked.
“What what?” Jerry looked through the passenger window.
“You agree with her?”
“I don’t disagree,” Jerry said. “I’m just saying that she shouldn’t automatically be considered a suspect of any wrongdoing simply because she wants to make healthy choices.”
“Wait until you see her yard,” Erica muttered.
“At least she hasn’t been caught on camera sneaking over to Waters Food so she can sabotage their delivery trucks.”
“Good point.” Erica signaled a turn then came to a stop in front of Rosie Godsey’s house. They had to wait for several Waters Food trucks to go past before they could turn into the driveway. The trucks were pulling out to make their daily deliveries. “I’ll bet Ralph Stanko missed the sound of the trucks driving by his house while he was stuck with us at the police station last night.”
“No doubt,” Jerry said. “Then again, he’s too busy listening to his lawyer at the moment. I see what you mean about the signs.”
They were everywhere. “I think there are more now than the last time I was here.”
Jerry reached for the door handle. “Let’s see what she has to say.”
Erica idly wondered if Rosie was baking anything as she pressed the doorbell. She realized she was slightly disappointed that there weren’t any wonderful smells wafting out when Rosie answered the door.
“Ma’am.” Erica watched Rosie’s eyes shift from them to the direction of Waters Food. “We’d like to ask you some questions.”
Rosie reluctantly turned her attention back to the officers in front of her. “You already did that.”
“These are different questions,” Erica said. “And they may take a while. Mind if we come in?”
The corners of Rosie’s lips pulled down. “I have something in the oven.”
“If you need to check on it, we can give you a few moments in between our questions,” Jerry said.
Rosie took a loud breath before stepping back to allow them to enter. She led them to a living room but didn’t take a seat as she watched Erica cross over to a large bay window.
“Excellent view of Waters Food,” Erica said.
“I understand you had some electrical work done.” Jerry pulled his notepad out.
“What?” Rosie’s head swiveled between Erica and Jerry several times before settling on Jerry.
“Electrical work. You hired Gregg Eastman to do an electrical job,” Jerry said.
“What about it?” Rosie’s voice held a tinge of confusion and more than a little discomfort. She crossed her arms then immediately uncrossed them and glanced at a chair as though she needed to sit down.
Erica motioned toward the chair. When Rosie sat down, Erica took the seat across from her. Jerry remained standing off to the side.
“Gregg Eastman was recently murdered,” Erica said. “We’re conducting a murder investigation.”
Erica noticed that each use of the word murder caused Rosie’s eyes to open wider.
“What does that have to do with me?” Rosie wrapped her arms around herself.
Erica could smell it now. She wasn’t sure, but she thought it might be something Italian. There was the smell of tomato sauce, for one thing. Spices. Lots of interesting spices.
“You refused to pay him after he completed the job,” Jerry pointed out.
“So?” Rosie’s head swiveled again. “He didn’t do what I asked him.” She pointed at the wall. “And he did it backwards.”
“Backwards?” Erica repeated. Cheese. She could smell the cheese with whatever was cooking in the oven.
Rosie pointed to the wall again. It took Erica a moment to realize it wasn’t the wall Rosie was referencing. It was a light switch. It was the kind with two rocker panel switches, side by side. One handled the light, the other was for the ceiling fan.
“Every time I walk into a room, I shouldn’t have to guess which button to push.” Rosie looked more sure of herself now.
Erica knew what she meant. “He wired some of them backwards?”
“Exactly. I had him replace the old switches when I had my rooms painted. But now whenever I walk into a room, every one of the switches is different. I have to remember that the light is first in the kitchen but the fan is first in the guest bath down the hall. All of the bedrooms are different. And not just that.” She pointed again.
Erica eyed the electrical outlets.
“Some of them are upside down. I have to guess which way to turn the plug when I’m vacuuming. Every last one of them seems to be different.” Rosie’s voice gained momentum as she spoke. She waved her hands toward the closest outlet. “I have to guess every time. Fifty fifty chance. I’m always wrong. How is that possible?”
“The case went to court,” Jerry said.
“You lost,” Erica added.
“Can you believe that?” Rosie demanded. Her head swiveled between them again. It took several moments for her to realize they weren’t agreeing with her. She crossed her arms again. “Well, it doesn’t mean I killed him for it.”
***
“You’re off then.” Matthias turned as Kaylee crossed the kitchen.
“Brad needs to get some work done. With Erica on the murder case, things at their place get hectic pretty fast.” Kaylee stopped at the coffee machine to fill a travel mug.
“With twins that young, I would imagine things are hectic more often than not.” Matthias draped a towel across the front of the sink to dry then pressed the button on
the dishwasher to start it. “Have a good day.”
“I should be back for dinner,” Kaylee said as she crossed over to the fridge to get the creamer. “Erica’s parents are bringing food for Brad and the twins.”
Matthias paused in the doorway to the hall. “Erica isn’t close to solving this one yet?”
Kaylee gave a half shrug as she closed the fridge. “They’re still chasing down leads.”
Matthias yelled a goodbye as he headed down the hallway. He found his wife in their favorite room. She was dressed in what he thought of as her mayoral garb. Though her suit jacket currently hung over the back of her desk chair, she was in a suit skirt. As usual, her snow-white hair was impeccably styled. She had one arm across her middle. The elbow of the other was propped on top of it, her hand on her chin as she stared at her computer screen.
“Something the matter?” Matthias took one of the seats in the middle of the room. It offered him a wonderful view of the gas fireplace, a view through windows to the yard beyond, and his wife in one corner of the room.
“A decision,” she murmured.
“You make a million of those every day. Why is this one any different?” He watched as she stood and crossed the room.
She took a seat next to him. “Caitlyn took an interest in the former owners of her shop space. They were an interesting family, as it happens.”
“No doubt.” He settled against the cushions prepared to hear her story.
“The Wielands made toys.”
“How nice.” He rubbed a hand against his chin. “How long ago are we talking?”
“The first in the family began somewhere around nineteen hundred, from what Megan discovered.”
“A puzzle without murder, I hope?” Matthias asked. “For her, it would probably be a nice change.”
“She hasn’t uncovered any such stories with the Wielands as yet, but there were a good number of arguments. Mostly regarding patents, though it took Jennifer to unearth those.”
“Ah, yes. That does make sense. I’m sure that all of the toy makers wanted their profits without others stealing their ideas. How does it involve a decision for you to make?”
“As it happens, one of the many patent fights that caused the Wielands to lose all of their money while they were alive was overturned at a later date,” Barbara explained.
“Later? You mean, the family never knew about it?”
“The last of the line did. He put the money into a trust but then passed away. It was his grandfather that had originally started the company. The money has been sitting there collecting interest ever since.”
“Your decision involves money?” he guessed.
“Indeed. Randall Wieland left it to the town of Teaberry with one restriction. However the money is spent, it must be toy related.”
“Well, it makes sense,” he said. “In some ways, it may even make your decision easier.”
She lifted her brows. “How did you come to that conclusion?”
“It removes so many other possibilities,” he pointed out. “And no one can blame you for it.”
“There is that,” she murmured.
“So tell me. Have you come to a decision?” He reached for her hand.
She nodded once, slowly. “Yes. I believe that I have.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“What are your plans for the day?” Sharon lifted Aaron from his high chair and set him on the kitchen floor. He was up on his knees a moment later.
“I need to touch base with some people about marketing ads and web sites.” Megan clicked on another web link on her computer then leaned forward with one elbow on the kitchen table as she read through the page.
“Is that what you’re doing now? Working on some of your web pages?” Sharon paused behind Megan. “I didn’t know you did the web site for Waters Food.”
“I don’t,” Megan murmured as she scrolled down. “I think they hired someone from the web hosting site to put it together.”
“You’re working on the puzzle of Gregg Eastman’s death.” Sharon read over Megan’s shoulder.
“I can’t get the idea out of my head,” Megan muttered.
“That Rhonda Waters used her husband’s jacket while killing Gregg Eastman?” Sharon crossed over to the fridge and took out a pitcher of iced tea. “Why would she do it?”
“I don’t know.” Megan clicked on another link. “I mean, I know that Gregg Eastman had a very active dating life.”
Sharon opened a cupboard. “Do you want a glass?”
“No, thanks.”
Sharon took out one glass and filled it with tea. “Is that what others have been saying about him?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“He was single,” Sharon said as she returned the pitcher to the fridge.
“Yeah.” Megan blew out a breath. She wasn’t finding anything interesting on the Waters Food website.
Sharon stopped behind Megan again and looked over her shoulder. “Huh.”
“Huh?” Megan straightened. “Huh, what?”
“That new product they’re promoting.” Sharon used her tea glass to point at the computer. “That’s eggplant parmigiana.”
“Yeah.” Megan leaned on the table again. “They even have the recipe for it.”
“Doesn’t it look familiar?”
“What do you mean?” Megan read the recipe. “Yeah. Why does it look familiar?”
“There should be a hand-written recipe for it in your grandmother’s cookbook.” Sharon went around the table to take a seat.
“Really?” Megan shot up and crossed the kitchen. She returned a few moments later leafing through the book. “How do you know this?”
“I’m the one who wrangled it from the woman that came up with the recipe. It took me weeks to talk her into handing it over. It was so worth it.” Sharon sighed at the memory. “It never came out the same for me, of course. Your grandmother made it for me a couple of times before she passed away. She had the gift with recipes.”
“There are a lot of recipes for eggplant parmigiana,” Megan said as she found the recipe in question.
“Yes but look at how they described cleaning and preparing the eggplant.” Sharon watched Megan compare the two recipes. “Am I right?”
Megan looked up at her mother. “How did you remember that?”
Sharon made a face. “Can you see me trying to figure that out? I was all thumbs in the kitchen, you know that.”
Megan stared at the two recipes. “Who came up with it initially?”
“Rosie. Rosie Godsey. She brought it to a potluck dinner once. It was gone in a matter of seconds, I swear. It was that good.” Sharon looked at the computer. “I wonder if Rhonda Waters finagled the recipe from Rosie too?”
“I was wondering the exact same thing.” Megan glanced at the clock then looked at Aaron.
“I can watch him,” Sharon said. “We have our little routine down. Flora and Dora expect us to visit. He likes to pet the donkeys. Then there’s Henry. We spend a little quality time with him. Before you know it, it’s time for a nap.”
“Why would Rhonda steal a recipe from someone?” Megan asked.
“You wouldn’t be asking that if you ever tasted Rosie’s version of it.” Sharon wiped the condensation from her glass. “I just didn’t think she was the type.”
“That’s what I mean. Everyone thinks of Rhonda as this super nice woman who donates money for marketing ads to the town.”
“They support sports teams too,” Sharon added. “But no one is ever truly perfect. Maybe Rhonda couldn’t resist growing her business.”
“You think this new product will make that much of a difference?”
Sharon made a face indicating she didn’t know. “It depends on how well they were able to copy the recipe in mass production.”
“Maybe we’re assuming too much,” Megan said. She reached for her computer again and returned to the Waters Food web page for the new eggplant parmigiana product. “Maybe Rosie Godsey ha
s been compensated for it.”
“Is her name mentioned anywhere?”
“No. But that isn’t positive confirmation. I’m going to need to ask her to be sure.”
“Aaron, ready to visit the donkeys?” Sharon made a happy face at Aaron. “Flora and Dora. You love them.”
Megan opened up a search engine and entered Rosie Godsey’s name. She was in her car a few minutes later driving to the address she’d found on the computer. As she neared the house, she told herself she shouldn’t be surprised to find Rosie living so close to Waters Food. She sat in her car a few moments after parking in the driveway to read the signs all over Rosie’s yard. It was obvious that the woman wasn’t happy with the products that Waters Food sold. She wondered if that included Rosie’s eggplant parmigiana.
It didn’t take long for her to hear noises on the other side of the door after ringing the bell. The door was pulled open with great force. The woman standing there looked angry at first, then surprised. She leaned over and looked around Megan as though expecting to see someone behind her.
“Rosie Godsey? I’m Megan Parker. My mom is Sharon Miller.”
Rosie put her hand on her neck. “I thought you were the police again. They just left here.”
“I’d like to ask you some questions,” Megan said. “Mind if I come in?”
“Uh, sure. Of course.” Rosie opened the door. “I hear your parents are now snowbirds.”
Megan followed Rosie down the hall. When the woman turned to the right to lead her into the living room, Megan remained in the hall. “Do you mind if we go this way?”
Rosie joined her in the hall again. “That’s the kitchen.”
“I can smell tomato sauce and Italian spices. Did you just happen to make your famous eggplant parmigiana?” Megan mentally crossed her fingers.
A look of pride filled Rosie’s face for just a moment. Then her lips thinned. She walked quickly toward the kitchen.
“I see Waters Food is coming out with a new product,” Megan said as she followed Rosie. “I was wondering if they used your recipe. My mom seems to think so.”
Rosie stopped next to her kitchen counter. Megan joined her and looked down at the tray of eggplant parmigiana.
