Killer Instincts and Savory Pie

by Angela C. Blackmoore

Abby took another breath and let it out, thinking over what Gabe had said, although she wasn’t quite convinced. Her problem seemed quite small compared to what had just happened, and once again she found her eyes on Red. Lanie stood, saying something quietly before heading over to their small group with a sad look on her face.

  “Poor Red,” she said once she’d gotten over to their chairs. “He’s completely devastated. I wanted to give him a few minutes by himself before resuming the questions though I’m not sure what we’re going to get out of him. He’s just babbling about it all being his fault.”

  “I don’t believe he did anything,” Abby said. “Except maybe getting into an argument. You can’t fake that kind of grief. You don’t think he had anything to do with it, do you, Lanie?”

  Lanie gave her a wary glance and signed. “No, but I can’t ignore him yet. Red’s too much of a sweetheart to have done anything, but I need to rule him out first. He doesn’t really have an alibi since he was home alone last night and this morning, so I’ll need to find some other way.”

  “Start with who else would have a reason,” Gabe suggested. “Or an opportunity.”

  “Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Lanie said. “I guess the first thing I need to do is figure out why she was here in the first place.”

  “She was here last night for a meeting if I remember correctly,” Abby said. “Red mentioned that to us when he asked us to help look for her.”

  “What kind of meeting?” Lanie asked, pulling out her pad and pen.

  “One with the Association for Urban Renewal,” Becky answered, with Abby nodding along with her.

  “Then that’s where I’ll start,” Lanie said, standing up and moving toward a bulletin board that was on one of the lobby walls. One of the tacked up pieces of paper held the smiling faces of John Tillsdale, Ruby Anderson, the recently murdered Francine Carthridge, and the late Don Buckshire.”

  Abby and Becky joined her, and the three women exchanged concerned looks. Two of the people in the picture were now dead. They knew who had killed Don Buckshire and the killers were both dead.

  “Two out of four,” Becky said softly. “Do you think the senator could be behind Francine?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him, but why?” Abby asked. “There’s got to be a reason. He’s evil, but not stupid.”

  “We have to be careful, but it seems odd,” Lanie agreed. “I’ll put it down as something to look into. Not only because of Francine but maybe to save the last two leaders of the Association,” Lanie said with a determined look. “I may not agree with what they’ve done, but they’re still members of this town.”

  Abby nodded, looking once again over at Red. He didn’t deserve this kind of pain.

  Chapter 4

  “What have you got for me, Lanie?” Sheriff Pearson asked as they both stood on the steps of the church and watched the coroner's van leave. They’d already sent everyone home, though Red had gone back to Hazel’s house at her invitation. The sheriff approved after seeing the state Red was in. The man shouldn’t be alone, and he knew that Hazel and Mr. Wilberson would take good care of him.

  “Francine was here last night at the Association of Urban Renewal meeting,” the petite, blonde haired deputy said. She looked even smaller standing next to the sheriff’s tall, lanky form. When she’d first started working with the man, he had intimidated her until he’d yelled at her for it and since that time, she’d worked hard to not let his natural presence get to her. “I’m going to ask the church if they knew how many people attended, but I’m probably going to have to get those numbers from the Association itself.”

  “Probably,” the sheriff said, “and I apologize in advance for having to deal with Ruby Anderson. I’m sure she’ll give you the information, but she probably won’t be pleased about it.”

  “Don’t worry, I know how to handle her.”

  The sheriff nodded before sucking on his teeth. “Best get over to her house sooner than later. I’m sure Abby won’t be far behind, and you don’t want Ruby any more stirred up than she will already be. If Abby gets there first, I’m sure we’ll be able to hear the screaming from here.”

  Lanie gave the sheriff a sideways glance before shaking her head. Despite his words, he didn’t sound overly upset, and she suspected the older man secretly appreciated Abby’s interference although she knew he’d never admit it. To be honest, Lanie didn’t know herself how to feel about it. Having a civilian involved in any police investigation was against all of her training, but she couldn’t deny Abby’s knack for solving cases. That, and they were friends.

  Still, Lanie knew the trick was not to make a big deal about it, or Sheriff Pearson would dig his heels in like a stubborn mule. Instead, she just grunted, signaling she understood.

  “I’ll head over to Ruby’s house now. If I’m lucky, she’ll just be sitting down to dinner with her family.”

  Sheriff Pearson chuckled. “Best get to it, then. I’ll head on back to the station and start on the reports. When you’re done, come on back, and we’ll finish up.”

  Lanie nodded and headed for her police car, running her hands along the sleek lines of the top-of-the-line pursuit car that was out of place in the small town of Red Pine Falls. The high-powered vehicle would look more at home in Miami or Los Angeles, but for now, it was all hers. Lanie grinned before sliding into the seat behind the wheel.

  The car had been part of one of Senator Clark’s attempts to drive a wedge in the town and buy favor, although it had not worked. In fact, after the debacle with the Association of Urban Renewal and death of Don Buckshire, the senator had tried to get the car back to recoup its cost but had failed. Now, Lanie got to drive it around, and each day it made her grin.

  The trip over to Ruby Anderson’s house didn’t take long. It was a fairly new craftsman situated on an expansive lot just on the edge of town. Despite the leafless trees, the property managed to look well-manicured, and Lanie gave it a wistful once-over as she pulled up to the curb. She would have loved to live in a property like this, but she’d have to make a lot more than a deputies’ salary would provide.

  Knocking on the white door, she could see movement through the frosted glass. It looked like everyone had just sat down to dinner, which would mean an even more sour interview, laced with plenty of snark. One of the figures got up, and a moment later, Barry Anderson opened the door and blinked at her with a frown. “Hello? Lanie? What can I do for you?”

  Lanie grimaced, smelling pot roast as Barry opened the door. “Sorry to bother you, Barry. Is Ruby here? I need to talk to her.”

  Barry looked behind him before turning back. “Uh…can it wait? We just sat down to dinner.”

  “I’m afraid not, Barry,” Lanie said apologetically. “I know its dinner time, and I wouldn’t have come if it weren’t important.”

  Barry signed before nodding. “Okay, I’ll go get her, but it better be worth it. She’s not going to be happy.”

  A few moments after Barry left, Ruby Anderson came to the door, and her face reflected her mood. Tall, blonde, and dressed like she was going out on the town, her eyes were flashing angrily as she leaned forward, hissing. “Deputy? What is the meaning of this? We’re eating dinner. I have no interest in buying tickets to the policeman’s ball or whatever it is you’re here to ask for.”

  Lanie opened her mouth to speak, but Ruby held a finger up, cutting her off which elicited an answering flash from Lanie’s own eyes. “No, I’m serious. You don’t get to bother my family and me. Is this some kind of harassment over the Association? I can’t help it if you people aren’t interested in improving your lives, but I won’t stand for it. As a councilwoman, it’s my job to drag you into the twenty-first century whether you like it or not.”

  “Ruby, can you just shut up for a moment?” Lanie finally said.

  “What? You can’t talk to me like that!”

  “I said, shut-up!” Lanie fired back. “Francine Carthridge is dead.”

  Ruby gasped in shock, st
aring at Lanie as if she’d grown a second head. “What did you say?”

  “I said, Francine Carthridge is dead. She was found at the church right before the pie competition today,” Lanie said, struggling to remember that Ruby and Francine were friends. At least Ruby had stopped talking. Lanie cleared her throat before continuing, still upset at the taller woman. “Was Francine at the Association meeting last night?”

  Ruby stood, her mouth hanging open as she struggled to come to terms with what Lanie had just told her. It took a minute, but finally, she came around. “Francine’s dead? How?”

  “That’s what I am here trying to find out. Now, please, can you help me? Was Francine at the meeting last night?”

  Ruby blinked, processing the question before finally stuttering an answer. “Y…yes, she was. She seemed upset, but otherwise, she was her normal self. Oh my God, we were just talking last night, and now she’s gone?”

  “I’m sorry,” Lanie said, watching a tear smear the woman’s mascara. “I know you were friends. Did she say anything or do anything different than she normally does? Mention anything?”

  Ruby took a deep breath, obviously rallying herself as she considered the question before shaking her head. “No. Nothing out of the ordinary. Like I said, she seemed upset when she first got there but quickly got her mind on the business meeting.”

  “Nothing else?” Lanie pressed.

  “No, nothing else!” Ruby snarled. “What do I look like? Some sort of computer?!”

  “Sorry,” Lanie said though she didn’t much feel like being sorry. Her compassion only went so far with Ruby. “I know it’s a long shot, but can you go over everything that happened at the meeting as best you can remember? Also, I’m going to need to get a list of anyone else that attended the meeting. I’ll need to talk to them as well.”

  Ruby gave Lanie a long look before glancing back toward the dining room table and her family before sighing. “Fine, come in, and we’ll talk in the study.”

  Lanie followed her in, hoping it wouldn’t be too long of a night.

  Chapter 5

  Gabe, Becky, and Abby sat in McGradys bar after being released from questioning at the church. Hazel and Mr. Wilberson had taken Red back to their home, but Abby didn’t want to return home quite yet. She wasn’t a huge drinker by anyone’s imagination, but after finding a dead body, she and Becky both needed one.

  “So, when are we going to start snooping?” Becky asked into the quiet.

  Abby frowned at her friend. “Snooping?”

  Gabe grinned. “Yes, snooping. No use kidding ourselves.”

  “Fine, snooping,” Abby said, rolling her eyes and taking a sip from her cider. “Well, it’s either Ruby Anderson or John Tillsdale, and frankly I doubt Ruby would talk to me.”

  “John Tillsdale it is, then,” Becky said. “I doubt he’s your biggest fan, but he’s not a mean hearted person like Ruby. He’s pretty much as mild-mannered as you can get. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least three cats.”

  “I’ll stick with dogs, thank you,” Gabe said. “Cats are okay, I guess, but they don’t do much but sit there, right?”

  “They do more than that, but Cheerio is a good dog,” Abby said. “He spoils me. And I’m lucky, although someone keeps trying to steal him away.”

  “I am not stealing him away,” Gabe said pithily. “I’m just augmenting your affection. Besides, Cheerio is one of those dogs that can have many friends. He’s an equal opportunity dog.”

  “It’s true,” Becky said. “He’ll fetch a stick for just about anyone.”

  “One of his best traits,” Gabe agreed.

  “Okay, I agree Cheerio is the best dog ever, but what do we do about John Tillsdale?”

  “We’ll go talk to him tomorrow,” Gabe answered. “He’ll probably be at his antique shop even though it’s Sunday. He might be at home.”

  “It’s an antique shop. Weekends are the most likely times for folks from out of town to stop by, right?” Becky said.

  Gabe shrugged, and Abby had no clue. She lived in a house full of antiques with her grandmother, but she didn’t know the first thing about them, nor had she ever had occasion to buy them.

  The three of them sat in silence for several minutes, each pondering what had happened earlier today until a tall, strongly built man walked up and placed two glasses and a bottle on the table. “You all look like Cheerio died,” Reggie Bascom said.

  Reggie was the current manager of McGradys and had taken over after the owner had gone on a hunting spree of some bikers that had come to town. In the process, the man had saved Abby and several other people, including John Troutdale and Reggie from being gunned down in the police station.

  As a form of thanks, John had allowed Reggie to move down from Seattle and manage the bar so the owner wouldn’t have to sell it off. It made Abby happy for the compromise since she’d been the one to figure out who had murdered so many bikers.

  “No, but it is something that wasn’t much fun,” Abby said, grimacing. “I don’t know if people know yet, but Becky and I found Francine Carthridge dead in the Church this morning. It wasn’t pleasant.”

  Reggie frowned and shook his head. “Boy, you do get into the best trouble, don’t you? Abby, what do you do, put out advertisements for weird? No,” He said, holding his hand up. “Don’t answer that. I know you don’t. However, I couldn’t help overhear your question about Tillsdale Antique shop. I do know for a fact that they are open on Sunday, of which I am a too-often customer.”

  “Did you finally get a house?” Becky asked, excited for their friend.

  Reggie nodded, pulling up a chair and sitting down. “I picked up an old colonial on Fifth street. Unfortunately, with all that fake money the senator threw around, some people couldn’t hold onto their homes. I paid more for it than it was worth, at least, but I’ve been busily filling it up with antiques.”

  “I would have taken you for a modern furniture type of guy,” Becky said, smiling. “Maybe Ikea?”

  Reggie blanched. “No, not on your life. I don’t think I could follow the instructions anyway. I love the old woods and antiques, through and through. That’s why I love your grandmother’s house so much, Abby. It’s got just the right amount of class and age.”

  “So do you know John Tillsdale well?” Abby asked. “What kind of man is he?”

  “Quiet and a little odd, but his name is so close to John Troutdale’s name that it enamored him to me a little. He’s pleasant enough, though. I like him, and he gives me a good deal since I’ve bought so much furniture from him.”

  “Is he the type to kill someone?” Gabe asked, wiggling his eyebrows dramatically.

  Reggie chuckled. “He’s exactly the type that would have bodies buried in his backyard, or keep trophies in his freezer. Quiet, socially awkward, and either he’s the most harmless person on the planet or keeps his knives nice and sharp.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. Normally I’d say that’s just paranoia, but having lived here for a few months and all the bodies dropping like flies, I can’t help but wonder.”

  “You make it sound like we live in some pit of doom,” Becky said, giving a shudder.

  Reggie laughed. “No, hardly that. I love it here. It’s exactly the place I’ve always wanted to settle down and raise a family. I’m sorry I made it sound so bad.”

  “Well, I, for one, want to make sure Red Pine Falls doesn’t become a place where people die all the time. So that only leaves one question,” Abby said, picking up her glass of cider. “Who’s going with me to talk to John Tillsdale?”

  Gabe, Becky, and Reggie all shared a glance before looking back. “All of us.”

  Chapter 6

  The antique store was one of the older buildings in town. At one point, it might have been an old farmhouse or barn, but sometime in the past, it had been converted to its current form. Yet, with all the remodel that happened to it, the store still retained much of its previous charm. It was a two-story affair, with white woo
den siding and a gray roof.

  The entrance to the building was a set of sturdy glass doors, but when they got up to it, the closed sign was turned outwards. Cheerio bounced up and down for a moment before moving to the side of the house, sniffing at something in the bushes before returning to them.

  “What now?” Abby asked, turning to Reggie.

  Reggie shrugged before leaning down and peeking into the windowed door. “It says its open on Sunday. Maybe John heard about Francine being dead and took it hard? I don’t know.”

  “I think I see someone moving in the back,” Gabe said, standing next to Reggie and peering inside as well. He started banging on the door, and a moment later they all watched as a figure began making its way through the various aisles toward the door. A moment later, the figure resolved itself into the face of John Tillsdale.

  John was a slight man with thin, pale blonde hair wearing a button up shirt under a brown sweater vest. Though he was younger than Abby, he carried himself like an older man. The effect was amplified by the dim light in the store entrance. He stared out at them owlishly, seemingly confused for a moment before his muffled voice came through the door. “Uh… we’re closed. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

  “Mr. Tillsdale? We wanted to talk to you about Francine. Do you know what happened to her?” Abby said through the door.

  John frowned but finally nodded. “Yes, I heard. That’s why I’m closed right now, but I don’t want to talk about it. Look, shouldn’t you be letting the police handle this?”

  “Please, Mr. Tillsdale, we just want to help.” Abby pleaded.

  “I told you, I don’t want to talk about it,” John said, his disapproval becoming anger at being pushed. “For all I know, you’re the one that sent threatening letters to us. Now, leave me alone.”

  With that, John turned around and retreated back into the dark recesses of his store.

  “Well, that’s a kick in the pants, isn’t it?” Becky said as they all turned back toward the parking lot. “I thought we’d at least have a chance to talk to him. He seemed upset.”