by Ellery Adams
“The back of the Jeep. Flats of petunias. They go along the side of the house. But first, you’ll have to paint the trellis.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He handed her the container of cookies. “Where’s your paintbrushes and paint?”
Cooper led the way to the garage. She placed the container on the ground before she grabbed the handle and yanked up the door. It slid open smoothly on its tracks. Inside the space was her father’s tool shed and mechanics bay.
“Nice license plates.” Awe laced Jon’s voice as he examined the walls covered with license plates. Some were pristine, some rusty and aged. Together, they provided a pictorial history of America’s fifty states.
“That’s my father’s collection.”
“He’s got a little bit of everything in this garage, doesn’t he?” Jon pointed to a wrapped-up cord on the wall with what her father referred to as carabiners. “Does your father rappel?”
“Earl? No way. He uses those for climbing up in trees for pruning. Some of our trees near the back of the property are huge.” She looked at him. “Do you rappel?”
“Yeah. I taught classes in college for a little side income.” Jon nodded toward the covered vehicle on the left side of the double garage.
“Satin tarp. Must be something special under there.”
“Take a look.”
He lifted the material and inhaled sharply when the blue metallic muscle car with white SS stripes was revealed. “That’s a ’71 Chevy Malibu.”
“Sure is. My daddy’s pride and joy.”
“Does it run?”
“Depends on the day of the week. I’d show you under the hood, but Earl takes so much pride in the engine, I don’t want to steal his thunder. You’ll have to ask him about his baby. But be prepared, he’ll talk your ear off.”
“I’d like that,” Jon said.
Yes, she could see Jon and Earl getting along, the same way he got along with her mother. Then she pushed the idea away. No sense getting silly thoughts about the guy. He was here to dig in the dirt, that’s all, and she’d let him.
As he headed out to her Jeep, Cooper brought the cookies inside. She nearly tripped over Popeye on her way into the kitchen.
“Sorry, baby. These definitely aren’t for you.”
She pulled back the lid to peek inside and found giant M&M cookies, lightly browned with generous amounts of candy. No doubt, chewy and delicious. Cooper hid them on top of the refrigerator for safekeeping.
Back outside, she grabbed her gardening gloves. Time for weed pulling.
When Jon passed her with a flat of flowers as she knelt in the flower beds, he nodded toward the driveway. “Mind if I ask what happened to your tire? I noticed you have a donut on your vehicle.”
“Oh, my spare. Yes, we had some trouble yesterday at Panera. Today’s a holiday, so I figured I’d get my tire repaired tomorrow after work.”
“Wait a minute.” He shifted the flat of flowers to his other hand. “Who had trouble at Panera?”
“The Sunrise Bible Study.” She explained what happened in condensed form.
“That’s serious stuff. Have you heard back from Detective Olson yet?”
“No, and I don’t expect to right away. It’s a holiday weekend.”
“I don’t like the sound of this at all. It all adds up to the type of scheme that Dax would pull.”
“Dax,” she repeated the name. It did occur to her that the prankster could have been him.
“Once, during a safety training session for the staff at Atwood Inn, one of the male housekeepers made a joking comment to Dax that challenged his virility. The next day, the guy found a snake waiting for him in his car. It wasn’t lethal or anything, but it gave Dax a good laugh when the fella screamed for help.”
“That’s so rude.”
“I agree. But if you were checking into my background and Alice’s, then I take it you checked into his. It probably got back to him. I’m guessing that set him off.”
“Why? I mean, if he doesn’t have anything to hide.”
“You tell me. The thing is, someone stole that painting and somehow orchestrated Loretta’s allergic reaction. Dax has to be leading the pack of suspects for Detective Olson right now.”
“Those are my thoughts too, but who knows. A week ago, I would have bet that Alice took that title, now I’m not convinced she’s guilty of anything but a sour personality and bad life choices.”
“Promise me one thing, Cooper,” Jon said.
“What’s that?”
“Be careful. Neither of us knows Dax Wilson well enough to know what he’ll do if he’s pushed against the wall, and I don’t want you to risk yourself finding out.”
“I’ll be careful.” Cooper was touched by his concern for her well-being.
“Thank you,” he said. “Now, I better get to work. My boss is a tough taskmaster.”
“Not that tough. I happen to know that she’s very appreciative of your help, and has ham, butter beans, and cornbread muffins in the house for break time.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Cooper smiled. She did too, and that was worrisome, because she didn’t want to get too accustomed to having Jon Eason around.
Chapter Ten
“Miss Lee.”
Cooper looked up, nearly knocking her empty coffee cup off the outdoor table at Lamplighter when she recognized Detective Olson.
Making the save, he caught the cup and placed it upright on the table. “Careful there.”
“How did you know I was here?” Cooper asked.
“I’m a detective. I detect.” He gestured to the chair across from her. “May I sit down?”
Still slightly stunned, Cooper nodded. She hadn’t told anyone she was going to Lamplighter for her lunch break today. Had Detective Olson followed her? Had he followed her because he thought the person who followed her to Panera on Sunday was following her? Was she bait?
More than likely, her imagination had gotten away from her.
Cooper quickly scanned the outdoor seating area and the parking lot. She’d parked where she could keep an eye on her Jeep. Repairing the Cherokee’s tire was an unexpected hit to her budget that she couldn’t afford to repeat. She was going to have to start being much more attentive to what was going on around her, or she might end up like Loretta Atwood.
“How may I help you, Detective?” Cooper finally asked. She looked at the redheaded law enforcement officer, who despite the warm and humid summer day wore a suit jacket and tie.
“Obviously, you can help me by keeping your nose out of the Atwood investigation. But after reading over past case files and notes from Inspector McNamara, I am resigned to that not happening.”
Cooper didn’t know what to say to that. She was a terrible liar, so she didn’t dare try to deny that they were investigating. If she did, her face would probably turn red, a certain tell, as Quinton said.
“I’m sorry, Detective. I’m not sure I understand.”
“Ms. Lee, your mother has been cleared of all involvement in the Loretta Atwood case.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard since this whole mess started.” Relief washed over Cooper. Magnolia’s Marvels was saved, and she wouldn’t have to bake a cake with a file in it to get Mama out of jail. “Does she know?”
“Yes. I called a short time ago when the autopsy results came back.”
“You have the results of the autopsy? That was fast. I thought it usually takes at least thirty days. What did the medical examiner determine?”
“Mindy Atwood’s ex-husband is a deputy city attorney for the City of Richmond and requested that the autopsy be expedited.”
“Why would Mindy’s ex do that?”
“I’m sure he wants this case closed as soon as possible, to keep himself distanced from Mindy Atwood. It wouldn’t look good to have his ex-wife accused of murder when Mr. Eason hopes to move up the political chain of command.”
“What about the autopsy results? Can’t you even
give me a hint?”
“Ma’am, I’m a law enforcement officer. I don’t give hints. Those results are not public information, and they are only available to next of kin upon request.”
“Detective, can’t we bypass the middleman? Mindy will certainly request the results.”
He stared at her for a moment and then shook his head slowly. “Mrs. Atwood lost control of her vehicle due to anaphylactic shock, which agrees with the preliminary medical examiner’s report. That’s really all we have right now.”
“But I thought you said Mama was cleared.”
“She was. I can unequivocally state that Magnolia’s Marvels were not involved in the death of Loretta Atwood.”
“I’m not following, Detective. I thought she had an allergic reaction.”
“That’s correct.” He put his arms on the table and eyed her. “The allergen was in the lipstick on the deceased’s lips at the time of death.”
Considering he didn’t give hints, this information sure packed a wallop. Cooper leaned back in her chair, surprised, and trying to wrap her head around it.
“How did that happen?” she finally asked.
“Do you watch television, Ms. Lee? I imagine you follow some of those detective shows. I’m told one that recently aired featured a bad guy who ground up nuts into a fine powder and put them in lipstick.” He paused. “Might have given someone an idea. Don’t you think?”
Cooper nodded. He was right. She did watch those detective shows, and now that he mentioned it, she recalled that particular episode. She also remembered the expensive lipstick that Loretta favored. The one in the black tube with a gold logo. The same one that both Ashley and Mindy used. Cooper let that sink in for a moment and met the detective’s gaze once again.
“Didn’t Loretta Atwood carry an EpiPen?” Cooper asked.
“Both her daughter and stepdaughter agree that she did, however, it has not been recovered.”
“So . . . on this television show, how did they prove the nuts were in the lipstick?”
“The lipstick canister and its contents were analyzed and then processed for DNA and fingerprints by the clever and handsome detective.”
Her lips twitched. “In the real world, how long would that take?”
He shrugged. “It always depends on the caseload at the medical examiner’s office at any given time, but given the encouragement of Deputy City Attorney Eason, I feel confident the results will be processed with due haste.”
Cooper nodded her head, still thinking. How many at the inn had access to Loretta’s lipstick on the night she died? Not many. Then there was the nasty fact that grinding up nuts and switching out canisters showed premeditation. Premeditation to do what, though? Loretta losing control of a vehicle wasn’t something the person responsible could have planned.
She was sure Detective Olson came to the same conclusions.
“Oh, and Ms. Lee, I do have other news. The security footage from the parking lot where your Bible study members’ cars were vandalized has been reviewed.”
She looked up, excited at his words. “Sir?”
“It was a woman. That’s all we’re certain of. She wore a hoodie. Nothing unusual about her mannerisms or her gait. Approximately five feet four to five inches tall. Petite build.”
A woman? Not Dax Wilson. And that description ruled out Alice, but not Helen.
“The woman carried what appears to be consistent with an ice pick in her left hand.”
“An ice pick!” Cooper couldn’t hold back her surprise.
An ice pick in the hands of a lefty. She couldn’t recall if Helen was left-handed, but the image of the timid receptionist wielding an ice pick seemed preposterous.
Detective Olson looked at her. He opened his mouth to speak and hesitated. “Be very careful, Ms. Lee. Someone who would wield an ice pick in daylight is a very confident individual and a very dangerous one as well.”
“Yes, sir.”
He pulled a card from his pocket. “I don’t believe I gave you this. My cell phone is on there. Call me anytime. Since I can’t convince you and your group to leave the investigating to me, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know if you stumble onto anything I should know.”
Cooper nodded numbly as the detective left.
Why had he taken the time to track her down to share information on the case? A case he wanted her to keep her nose out of, in his words. When she called Quinton, she asked him just that.
“I think it’s exactly why. He figures we aren’t going to stay out of it, as evidenced by the last five cases we happened to be involved in. Through no fault of our own, I might add. So he may as well keep us in the loop. It’s definitely a different approach than McNamara’s, that’s for sure.”
“I’ll say,” Cooper said.
“You have to admit, Coop, our track record is pretty good. We’ve stayed within the law and used logic, common sense, and determination to solve these cases.”
“You’re right, Quinton. Though I have to believe there was a little more than that going for us, like divine inspiration.”
He chuckled. “We could use a little divine inspiration on this case.”
“Quinton, my mother and Magnolia’s Marvels have been cleared. Do you think we should drop the case? I don’t want to put the Sunrise Bible Study at risk unnecessarily.”
“We’re in this together, Coop, and we made a commitment to Mindy. No one will want to walk away. We want the case solved, and Atwood Inn to open on schedule. Think what this means to Magnolia’s Marvels. I might be able to buy them at my grocery store instead of begging you to bring them to Bible study.”
Cooper laughed. “I’d like that too. Thanks for that, Quinton.”
“Following up on Alice might pop things wide open. Let’s find out what a normal day looks like for her when she’s not on the clock.”
“Are you talking about a stakeout?” Visions of an old movie her parents owned on VHS came to mind. The Lees were the only family she knew who still watched movies on a VCR. Earl always said if it ain’t broke, why buy a new gadget? He claimed that it took him ten years to figure out the remote for that machine, and he didn’t have ten years to learn something new. Besides, they preferred old movies.
“Yes, a stakeout. Sometimes it’s plain old-fashioned gumshoeing that gets the job done.”
“I’m all in. When?”
“Saturday. I called the Richmond French Bistro and told them I wanted to be sure to make reservations when Chef Wilson was in the kitchen. They told me that she’s off on Saturdays and they’re closed on Mondays. The bank likes me at my desk on Mondays, so what about this Saturday? I’m going to check out Steak Haven tonight after work.”
“Steak Haven. That was her last kitchen?”
“Yes, not exactly gourmet cooking.”
“Interesting.”
“Even more so since Helen worked there when Alice did.”
“How did you find that out?” Cooper asked.
“I took a page from Savannah and Jake and had Mindy fax me Dax, Mindy and Helen’s job applications. Then I cross-referenced them, looking for any overlaps.”
“Brilliant, Quinton.” Cooper mentally went through the information they had. “Dax was married to Alice, and Alice and Helen worked together. I don’t get it. We have the facts, but not enough of them to determine what it all means.”
“And how does Loretta figure into the middle of these clues?” Quinton added.
“This is like putting together a jigsaw puzzle when the dog ate a few pieces,” Cooper said.
“Excellent analogy. We’ll have plenty of time on our stakeout to try to figure out what’s going on.”
“Your car or mine?” she asked.
“Neither. A red Jeep Cherokee and a cream-colored Caddy aren’t exactly vehicles that blend in. “Let me borrow a sedan from my uncle’s used car lot.”
“Your uncle sells used cars?”
“Marty’s Used Cars.”
“Marty Silvester is
your uncle? The guy with those outlandish television commercials? I’ve been watching his commercials since I was in elementary school. I love that guy. Some evenings, his commercials are the best thing on TV.”
“That’s Uncle Marty. Eighty-six years old, and he still runs the showroom.” Quinton chuckled. “I’ll pick you up on Saturday morning.”
“Should we bring snacks?” Cooper asked. “Stakeout food?”
“I’ll handle that. You’re in charge of coffee.”
“Got it, and I better make a few phone calls and update the rest of the group.” Cooper kept thinking about that ice pick. “This is serious stuff, and everyone needs to be very careful.”
• • •
After lunch, Cooper pulled open the glass door at Make It Work! still thinking about her odd meeting with Detective Olson. At the reception desk, Angela was nearly hidden behind an enormous bouquet of salmon-colored roses. The shade of their petals ranged from palest coral to almost orange. The bride-to-be was on the phone, yet waved at Cooper to come closer.
A moment later, she yanked off her headset with a dramatic sigh. “Oh, my goodness. I thought I’d never get off the phone. That was the beast. Beatrice, Mr. Farmer’s sister. I’m married to her brother, and she still tries to micromanage our life.”
Cooper recalled how Beatrice had done everything she could to keep the lovers apart. True love, however, ran its course despite her machinations. “What now?”
“What not, you mean. She’s given me a hard time about everything from the date of the wedding to the food at the reception.”
“Direct her to your wedding planner. Ashley can handle Mrs. Farmer.”
“Oh, no. I could never do that to your sister. She doesn’t deserve that. Mona will be here soon. She’ll take care of Beatrice.” Angela giggled. “Mona is a little dynamo. She’s always been like my personal bodyguard.”
“I can’t wait to meet her.”
“Oh, you’ll like Mona. She’s the exact opposite of me.”
“What does that mean?”
“Mona is tall, slim, confident, tailored and classy. I’m short, round, frilly and campy.”
