by Lee Pulaski
Sigrid returned with drinks. “So I heard that Anne Marie got several calls from this Remy Pierre today, urging her to reconsider selling her building. She’s starting to wonder if this guy is going to take no for an answer.”
“This guy really wants to expand Gresham Market, but why? Growing a business is one thing, but taking such aggressive action goes against the small-town feel that everyone loves about this place. I wonder if Remy Pierre has even set foot in our village.”
“Well, if they come gunning for my place, they’ll get it over my dead body.”
Sigrid’s statement sent an involuntary shiver through Zachary’s body. It seemed more than a little suspicious that the sale of the store was announced so close to when Miles had been murdered, and Zachary couldn’t help but wonder if the murder happened because of the sale—or perhaps lack thereof? What if Miles had gotten cold feet about the sale, and Remy really didn’t take no for an answer? Could Anne Marie be in similar danger?
Zachary shared his concerns with Newell and Sigrid. “Do you two think it’s possible?”
“I don’t know,” Newell said after taking a sip of his drink. “Even if your theory holds up with Miles, why would Remy Pierre want to cause harm to Osgood and Muriel Reimer? As far as anyone knows, they weren’t planning to sell the farm or any of the other affiliated businesses.”
“As far as anyone knows. No one saw the sale of Gresham Market, either, but here we are.”
Sigrid shook her head vigorously. “I’ve known Cherries Jubilee forever and a day. She and ol’ Beef Jerky would rather burn their livelihood to the ground than let it end up in the hands of someone outside their family.”
Zachary folded his arms and turned to look out the window. “If only we knew who was taking over the family business, it might help to answer some key questions and possibly give us a better idea of who our killer is.”
“I hate when someone dies in this village,” Sigrid said with venom in her voice. “We’re so few here, that even losing one person by natural causes impacts us. To have three dead by someone else’s savage hand really delivers a blow.”
Zachary knew where Sigrid was coming from. There had already been a number of murders in the last year and a half, and every time one happened, it scared the bejesus out of the people in the village. The Shawano Advocate had once referred to Gresham as the “murder capital of the world.”
“That’s definitely one way to look at it, Sigrid,” Newell said. “However, I’m off the belief that tragedy helps to bring us closer. Maybe we have more than our fair share, but I think we’ve come closer as a community.”
“Have we, though?” Sigrid asked. “Every time we have a murder, our village board tries to step in and solve the problem by ending whatever happy tradition was marred by tragedy.”
Zachary wagged his finger in disagreement. “Not the village board, per se. Just Jacob. Most of the board has figured out his little game and moved to shut him down whenever he tries to spread his chaos unchecked. I’m sure that the other board members would have done it again this time if Anne Marie hadn’t gone and brought in a pit bull lawyer to put the fear of Judge Judy in them.”
“Still, there has to be a better way for us to come together than to start stacking bodies.”
Newell stabbed the air with his fork for emphasis. “So we keep coming up with different excuses to bring everyone into one place. Sure, we have Applefest and the Teddy Bears Picnic…”
“Don’t forget the Gingerbread Ball at Christmastime,” Zachary interrupted.
Newell sighed. “I would have brought that up if someone hadn’t derailed my train of thought. Anyway, let’s not let evil win. Let’s figure out how to make Gresham the happiest place in the world and tell Disneyland it’ll have to settle for second best.”
“Newell is right, Sigrid. We only lose when we stop being who we are and let the bad guys dictate who we are. You keep churning out lovely meals. I’ll make sure everybody has enough books to read, and Newell will be responsible for feeding all of God’s creatures.”
Sigrid smiled. “You boys always know how to make me feel better.” She stood up. “You know, Zachary, I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating—you fit so much better with Newell than you did with your previous husband.”
Zachary had learned long ago to deflect the misperception Sigrid had that he and his former roommate, Kevin, were lovers just because they were both gay and lived under the same roof.
“So, have you heard anything from Kevin lately?” Sigrid asked.
Zachary shook his head. “Last communication I got from Kevin was an email on Christmas Eve. He was just starting work as a lifeguard at a community swimming pool somewhere in Florida. Even sent a photo of the sun and sand with the Atlantic Ocean in the background.”
“How long do you think he’s going to stay away from Gresham? After all, this is home.”
Zachary knew better than to correct Sigrid and inform her that he and Kevin had grown up near New London, about an hour away from Gresham. He just shrugged. “Obviously, Kevin is trying to make a new start somewhere else, and we should probably just respect his decision and let him reconnect with us when he’s ready.”
“Hasn’t it been more than a year since he left? What has he been doing all that time?”
“Finding himself, I guess. He’s had to sort out some serious demons, and I guess he can’t find his way back to us until he finds that piece of himself he lost.”
Sigrid smiled sympathetically. “I’m going to go check on your food. I’ll be back.”
Newell put his hand on top of Zachary’s. “Has he really been incommunicado since Christmas? I didn’t think it had been very long since his last email.”
Zachary shook his head. “I lied, but more for Sigrid’s benefit. I got the email from Florida around Halloween, and it was a response to me wishing him a happy birthday.”
“So he hasn’t written anything in four months?” Newell whistled. “Honey, I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s like I told Sigrid. Maybe he’ll come back when he finds that piece of himself that he lost.”
Zachary didn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth for a moment.
Zachary had just turned on his open sign when Anne Marie hurried through the front door, looking like the end of the world was coming.
“Have you heard, Zach? About the grocery store?”
“Yeah, I heard. The same company that’s trying to buy your building also bought Gresham Market. I saw the story in the Advocate. There was talk of possibly expanding the market.”
Anne Marie grabbed Zachary by the shoulders. “They’re closing the store! All the employees got notices by email last night that the market is closing by the first of May. Randa stopped by my house just after seven o’clock this morning freaking out. You know she’s been part of that place for more than fifteen years. I can imagine how the other employees are reacting.”
Zachary’s eyes felt like they were going to freeze in the wide position. “Forget the employees! The whole village is going to have a cow! Having to drive twenty minutes to Shawano or twenty-five to Wittenberg for groceries is not something folks are prepared for.”
Gwendolen, Zachary’s clerk, hurried in the front door with a box of donuts, almost crashing into Zachary in the process. “Hey, did you guys hear about the grocery store? They’re closing! People are down at Scotty Glenn’s bakery freaking out about it.”
Zachary glanced at his open sign as Gwendolen set the donuts on the front counter. He wondered if it was too late to switch if off and lock the door, knowing full well that whenever the gossip mill went into overdrive, the world tour usually started at the bakery, continued at the village hall and Gresham Market and ended at The Literary Barn. With the grocery store being the topic of the day, folks would likely skip that stop.
“Crap! Okay, Gwendolen. You get started with those online orders right away and fill as many as you can before we’re overrun
with frightened villagers, because once they come, any hope of us focusing on business will go right out the window.”
Gwendolen, who’d never had the pleasure of experiencing the Gresham gossip tour, gave Zachary an odd look. “Is it really going to get that bad? You sure you’re not exaggerating?”
Zachary and Anne Marie both gave Gwendolen an “Are you serious?” expression, prompting the young employee to zip her lip and grab some of the orders Zachary had printed and set on the counter.
Zachary scratched his head. “I don’t get it. The story in the Advocate said that Pierre Consolidated planned to expand the grocery store, not shut it down.”
“Come on, Zach.” Anne Marie folded her arms. “Since when is the Advocate known for printing anything accurate or nice about Gresham?”
“Point, set, match.” Zachary was about to expand on his acknowledgement of Anne Marie’s statement when the phone rang. “Thank you for calling The Literary Barn. How can I help…?”
“Zach, it’s Alexander. Listen, I wanted to give you a heads-up that there are a ton of people in the bakery. I was going to go in for some pastries for me and Murphy to munch on, but it looks like the gossip mill is in full swing, and I figure they’re heading your way.”
“Thanks for the alert, Alexander, but Gwendolen already gave me a warning about it. She brought in donuts, which makes me think she’s gunning for the Brown Noser of the Year award.”
“Aw, man! I was hoping to keep my winning streak alive.”
“I just hope we can get the online orders filled and boxed before the mob comes.”
“I know it’s my day off, Zach, but do you want me to come help you? Gwendolen’s never had the pleasure of experiencing a gossip mill day.”
“That’s thoughtful, Alexander, but we’ve got to initiate her sometime.”
“I know, but I figured with the shop recently expanding, that means more people can be crammed in there, and I think you two will need some backup.”
Zachary raised an eyebrow. “Alexander, how many people did you count inside the bakery?”
“I didn’t actually go in. How suicidal do you think I am?”
“Good man. I don’t need you getting trampled needlessly.”
“Are you saying you’re okay with me getting trampled if there’s a genuine need?”
“I’m saying I’m going back to work. Enjoy your pastries, if you can ever get them.”
As soon as Zachary hung up the phone, Randa walked through the front door, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Hello, Zach. I don’t suppose you’re looking for any hard workers, are you?”
Zachary gave Randa a sympathetic look. “I heard about what happened, Randa. I’m so sorry. I can’t afford any more employees at the moment, but I’m sure once we get back into the regular tourist season, I can hire one or two more people. I know that doesn’t really help you at the moment.”
“I don’t understand how this can be happening. Miles never gave any indication that he planned to retire or sell the store. I don’t know how Pierre Consolidated could have gotten their hands on it. As far as I knew, Miles wanted to keep the market going for many years to come.”
“Well, sometimes people change their minds. Maybe he made the choice after he lost Muriel.”
Randa shook her head. “No, you don’t understand! They couldn’t have signed off on the deal that quickly. There are logistical issues to be worked out, transitions of power.”
“If that’s the case, why are you and the other store employees so worried? Hell, why is the whole village up in arms?”
Anne Marie interrupted, “Randa, do you have the email you received from Remy Pierre?”
Randa sniffled. “It’s in my truck. I’ll go get it.”
As Randa hurried out to fetch her cyber pink slip, the phone rang again. Zachary exhaled loudly, hoping it wasn’t an urgent warning that the gossip tornado was heading his way and that he should flee to a storm cellar. “Thank you for calling The Literary Barn. How can I help you?”
“Zach, it’s Newell. I’ve got a swarm of people in the feed store freaking out about Gresham Market. Did you hear the employees there got notification the place is closing down?”
Zachary groaned. He’d completely forgotten that sometimes the great Gresham gossip mill had a second migratory pattern. That started at the feed store, followed by The Literary Barn and ending at the Wildcat, the local bed and breakfast. That meant the alternate wave of people was going to hit Zachary’s shop before the main mob at the bakery. He wondered if it was too late to call Alexander back to say any and all backup would be appreciated.
“Oh, believe me, Newell. I’ve already received word about the grocery store plight. Is there any way you could take the air out of the vehicle tires to slow them down and keep them at bay?”
“Wouldn’t do any good, sweetie. They’d just walk, even in the subzero weather.”
“That’s true. Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks for the warning.”
“Anytime. See you at home tonight.”
As Zachary hung up the store phone, Petra Guggenheim, the school librarian, walked in.
“Hi, Petra. I figured you’d be at school, what with all the young minds desiring knowledge.”
“Well, after what I heard, I figured the young minds could tend to themselves for an hour or two. You heard about Gresham Market closing, didn’t you?”
“I’ve heard rumblings. I’m not sure it’s necessarily time to panic.”
“That’s easy for you to say, my friend. A lot of the library funding comes from the store’s cash donations. You keep us in books, and we’re very grateful for that, but a few years ago, the school board cut the library funding to almost zero because of the recession. When that happened, Miles La Rouche stepped in and donated ten thousand dollars to us, and he donated a similar amount every year after that so we could purchase additional books. With him gone, and the market threatening to close, that means our funding is going to drop back to previous levels.”
Anne Marie gasped. “That’s awful!”
“Could the school board be persuaded to restore funding now that the recession is over?”
Anne Marie scoffed. “The state government has continued to cut school funding even though the recession has ended. About the only way the school board would consider upping funds would be if the state government stopped impersonating the Tin Man and grew a heart.”
“I was thinking they needed a backbone more than a heart,” Petra commented.
Zachary was about to add his own two cents when Randa returned with a piece of paper. “Here’s the notice all the employees received last night.”
Zachary took the notice from Randa and read it over several times. It told about the store closing on the first of May and offered the employees well wishes along with assistance in securing other employment. Even though it seemed like an official notice, something seemed a little off about it. Then he glanced at the header. The from line read “Peirre Consolidated” before the email address, which also had the misspelling of the Pierre name.
“Randa, this village has just been punked.”
Randa raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”
Zachary put the paper on the counter so Randa, Petra and Anne Marie could read it. “Look at the header. Pierre is misspelled twice. No professional company would make such an academic mistake. It’s unheard of, especially in an email domain. This notice of termination is a total hoax!”
Jaws dropped one by one as Randa, Petra and Anne Marie looked at each other, the piece of paper and Zachary at random intervals. The three women looked like they’d discovered that Martha Stewart was really a man dressing in drag.
Randa was the first to find her voice. “You mean nothing’s going to happen to the store?”
“Not today, my dear. Now, if you ladies wouldn’t mind going to the bakery and the feed store to calm the rest of the panicking villagers down so they don’t lay waste to my shop, I’d really
appreciate it.”
Randa and Petra left immediately, mumbling their farewells. Anne Marie stayed behind.
“Why on earth would someone do something like that? The whole village was about to implode, all because of a hokey email!”
Zachary chuckled. “I should have realized from the beginning that something was hinky. A reputable company wouldn’t issue pink slips by electronic communication. A representative would be dispatched to speak to the employees in person, maybe assist them in finding other employment. Besides, the sale of the store isn’t even finalized, so there’s no way that Pierre Consolidated could legally take any actions on reducing or eliminating the existing workforce.”
Anne Marie whistled. “Zachary, your reputation as the resident sleuth is well deserved.”
“Come on, Anne Marie. I proved I’m the best long ago.”
Gwendolen poked her head out from the stacks. “Am I hearing correctly? We’re not going to be invaded by frightened townspeople today?”
Zachary smiled. “Nope. We dodged a bullet today.”
The question was who fired the bullet to begin with. There was no indication who sent the email, and it was unlikely the author of the poisoned pen letter would just step forward. What was the motive for causing fear and panic? Was it to draw attention from the three murders that were still unsolved? Was a killer taunting simple country folk before he or she could flee town?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Zachary rubbed his eyes. He’d been staring at the computer screen for hours, trying to find out all he could about Remy R. Pierre and his company, Pierre Consolidated. There had to be some indication as to why the company was interested in a small-town grocery store and art gallery. Was someone in the company connected—by blood or by friendship—to someone in Gresham? Did that someone have reason to kill Miles La Rouche, as well as Osgood and Muriel Reimer?
The missing link was the connection between Remy Pierre and the Reimers. Was there some business deal that had been in the works? Did old Beef Jerky decide it was time for him and his wife to retire completely and start engaging in secret negotiations to sell the farm and retail businesses that went with it? It seemed unfathomable, but one could have said the same thing about Miles selling Gresham Market and going into retirement. It seemed like Miles lived and breathed groceries, just as Osgood’s character was wrapped in beef and Muriel’s was covered in cherries.
