Thyme to Kill

by Tegan Maher

  I hustled back to the bedroom, shivering as I went, and dug through a box, pulling out the first sweater and pair of jeans I could find. I pulled them on and grabbed my purse and keys, figuring I could swing into town, stop by the café, and grab a cup of coffee to go. If I was lucky, maybe I’d find a Starbucks or even another diner so I wouldn’t have to deal with Fiona. And there was always the chance she wouldn’t be there if I had no other option.

  I kept an eye peeled all the way down Main Street on my way to the café, but didn’t luck into an alternate caffeine source. I gave up the hunt, unwilling to go too much longer without caffeine, and put that on my list of things to do. Surely she wasn’t the only gig in town. Or I sure hoped not. If her place was the only culinary experience I had to look forward to in my new home, I’d be re-evaluating my choice in less than a month.

  Just like the night before, the parking spots in front were plentiful, and I pulled to a stop right in front of the glass doors. Taking a deep breath, I decided to take a walk on the dark side and skip shoving money in the meter. I was only gonna be a couple of minutes.

  Though the lights were off, the door was unlocked, and the bell gave a happy tinkle that was at odds with my impression of the restaurant so far. The place looked deserted, but since the door was open, surely somebody had to be there somewhere. All I wanted was a cup of coffee. I stood at the counter for a minute hoping the bell had alerted somebody to my presence, but no one came out. I cleared my throat. Nothing.

  “Hello?” I called. Still nothing.

  I moved along the counter until I could see into the order window. Dee stood behind a stainless steel island with a marble rolling pin in her hand. She was staring at something on the floor, one hand covering her mouth.

  “Dee?” I called.

  She didn’t move.

  I moved around the counter, looking around as I did, and into the kitchen. There, lying on the ground at Dee’s feet, was Fiona. Blood trickled over her forehead, and her eyes were wide open and staring toward me, though they saw nothing.

  “Oh my god, Dee! What happened?” I rushed over to Fiona and squatted beside her, checking for a pulse even though I knew I wouldn’t find one.

  Dee dropped the rolling pin, and it made a loud thunk as it hit the floor and rolled across the faded, stained linoleum. She shook her head and took a couple steps back from the body.

  “I don’t know,” she said with a gulp. “I just got here and found her like this.”

  I noticed her purse was still on her shoulder. “And that rolling pin?”

  Dee hiccupped and motioned toward a narrow path a couple feet away that went around the table and led toward the back door. “It ... it was in the floor there. I almost fell over it, and picked it up before I saw her.”

  I nodded as I pulled out my phone.

  Dee grabbed my arm. “What are you doing?” Terror and panic made her eyes glassy as they gazed into mine.

  I placed my free hand over hers and held her gaze. “We have to call the police.”

  Dee began sobbing hysterically as she shook her head. “They’ll think I did it.”

  “I know you didn’t do it,” I said as I stood, helping her up with me, “and I don’t even know you. I’m sure they will, too. I mean, I barely know you and I don’t believe you could have done this. They know you better than I do, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” I was a cynic at heart, but something told me I was right about her. Nobody could fake looking that freaked out, and it wasn’t in the oops, I just murdered somebody and got busted way, either.

  She wiped her hand on her apron and nodded, her face chalky and her lips tinged a little blue. She was in shock. “You’re right. We have to call.”

  Her hand shook as she raised it to tuck a curl back, and I was afraid she was gonna pass out.

  “Why don’t you go to the lady’s room and splash some water on your face while I make the call, okay?” I tried to keep my voice gentle and reassuring, but given the situation, I wasn’t sure how well that was working out. I knew I needed to get her away from the body so she could breathe a little.

  Dee nodded and left the kitchen as I punched in 911.

  “Emergency dispatch,” droned a bored female voice on the other end of the line.

  “I need to report a murder,” I said, my tone matter of fact even if there was a slight tremble.

  “Really?” the voice perked up considerably. Probably the most action this town had ever seen.

  “Yeah, really,” I said, pulling the phone away from my ear and giving it a what the heck look. “Here at Fiona’s Bakery and Café.”

  I heard the woman relay the message and a muffled male voice responded. “The sheriff is on his way,” she said, then snapped her gum and lowered her voice. “So, who died?” She didn’t even bother to hide the gossipy tone.

  I rolled my eyes. Small towns. I blew out a breath and decided to reply. It wasn’t like everybody wasn’t going to know in a few minutes, anyway. “Fiona.”

  “Oh,” she said, and I thought maybe there was a bit of disappointment in her voice. “I can’t say that surprises me.”

  After my brief run-in with the woman, I couldn’t exactly say I was, either. But I decided to use my new-to-town status to bite. “Oh yeah. Why is that?”

  She snorted. “Did you ever meet her?”

  Logic I couldn’t dispute. “I did, but aside from her being a miserable human being in general, was there anything specific?”

  There was a pause, and I pictured the woman looking over her shoulder to make sure she was alone before answering.

  “Well,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Fiona was always calling the sheriff to deal with the ice cream shop next door. Marjorie—she’s the owner—was constantly putting her signs and goods on Fiona’s share of the sidewalk. At least, that’s what Fiona kept saying, but every time the sheriff went to settle the dispute, he couldn’t find that Marjorie had done anything wrong. And don’t even get me started about how she treated her employees, or anyone who did any sort of business with her. Plus, between you and me, rumor has it ... she was having an affair with a married man.”

  I shook my head. Did everybody know everyone else’s business here? “Who’s the man?” I asked. To me, that was the obvious first choice for a suspect. There was a solid reason why there were so many expressions and horror stories about a woman scorned.

  “No one knows.” The woman chuckled, but there was no mirth in it. “Of course, it’s just a rumor. I mean, come on. Who would get involved with someone like her?”

  I didn’t disagree, but surely somewhere underneath all that hateful was something a man would find attractive. The bell above the door tinkled. “Thanks,” I told the operator. “I think the sheriff’s here now.” I disconnected the call and stood up, marveling at the fast response time as I walked to the front.

  A man in a tan sheriff’s uniform strode toward us. If I had to guess, I’d say he was a few years older than me, and in great shape. His face had that hardened expression people get when they’ve taken too much guff from people and refuse to take any more.

  “You the one who called it in?” He looked me up and down.

  I nodded, then motioned toward the back. “She’s in the kitchen.”

  The sheriff walked past me and through the swinging doors. He was gone for about a minute, returning just in time to see Dee come out of the bathroom, dabbing at her eyes with some tissue. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders before coming to stand next to me.

  “You find her?” he asked, his gaze resting on me.

  I brought my gaze to his. “No, sir.”

  “I did,” Dee said around a sniffle.

  He nodded. “Was anyone else here?”

  Dee tucked her tissue into her front apron pocket. “Not that I know of, sheriff. Not since earlier when Mrs. Clark came in to order a cake and some other stuff for the ladies auxiliary.” She glanced toward the back. “But obviously somebody was
because she’s dead.”

  “Looks like the murder weapon was the rolling pin.” He frowned. “Did either of you touch anything?”

  Dee nodded and groaned. “I picked up the rolling pin,” she said.

  “Now why would you go and do a thing like that?” He shook his head.

  Dee shrugged. “I about tripped over it when I came through the back door before I even really saw her. I had no idea what happened. For all I knew, she just dropped it. I saw her, and froze.” She glanced at me. “That’s when Toni walked in.”

  I nodded. “And I only touched Fiona’s neck to check for a pulse.”

  “Did you happen to notice if anything was missing?” His gaze fell on Dee.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I haven’t checked the register or anything yet.” She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and then stiffened. “Wait. When Toni checked Fiona’s neck for a pulse, I noticed her black velvet necklace with the teardrop pearl wasn’t around her neck. She always wore that necklace. She got it a year or so ago, and I’ve never seen it off of her.”

  The sheriff rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to need you both to come to the sheriff’s office and fill out a statement.” He glanced at his watch. “I got the coroner coming, and I need to secure the scene, so how about you both sit over there and wait for me?”

  His eyes met mine as he scowled and pointed to the table farthest from the door. “And don’t even think about going anywhere. You’re both suspects in this murder until I say otherwise.”

  I nodded. “Of course.” I put my arm around Dee’s shoulders and guided her to the table. Her whole body was shaking, and a stray tear rolled down her cheek. Her color was returning to normal though, so that was good.

  “I can’t believe she’s dead. I mean, she wasn’t the nicest person on the planet, but still.” Dee blew her nose. “Shoot. I hate to, but I should probably tell him Harold stopped by with a delivery this morning.”

  I reached across the table and patted her hand. “There’ll be plenty of time to do that at the station.” The dispatcher’s words came back to me. “So who’s Harold? Is he Fiona’s boyfriend or something?”

  Dee’s head came up, a look of shock on her face. Then she started laughing. She shook her head. “God, no. Harold’s our delivery driver. He brings in most of the food and supplies for the restaurant.”

  “Do you think maybe he did it?” I was no expert, but unless I missed my guess, Dee was gonna be suspect numero uno.

  “Maybe. They didn’t get along. She said he was charging her too much and bringing in substandard product.” Dee shrugged. “I told her I thought the stuff he brought was fine, but Fiona never wanted to hear that.”

  “Is it possible they got into it and he whacked her with the pin?” I cringed a little at how callous that sounded, but it was already out there.

  Dee shook her head and dabbed at her nose. “I don’t think he’s a killer. They do fight a lot though. He’s sort of like you—he doesn’t put up with her crap and I’ve had to go to the wholesale store for groceries and supplies plenty of times because she’s made him so mad he refused to deliver to her.” She sat back in her chair. “I should have never taken this job. I only did it because she’s the only family I have left, and family’s important, you know?” Her gaze came back up to mine.

  I nodded.

  Dee continued, “Plus, I held out hope she’d let me bake one day. I went to school for it, but—”

  A couple of old guys pushed through the front door, looking around. Dee waved to them. “Hey Marve, Joe. Uh, we’re not open right now.”

  “Why not?” the guy on the left asked. He was dressed in bib overhauls and had more hair sprouting from his ears than he did on his head.

  She fumbled to produce an answer without giving the exact reason, but came up empty.

  I sighed. It wasn’t like it was going to be a secret. “Because somebody killed Fiona,” I said.

  Mr. Hairy Ears—I’m not sure if he was Marve or Joe—gave me a speculative look. “You don’t say.”

  “I do say,” I said, pressing my lips together and nodding. “So I’m pretty sure you’re gonna have to find coffee and breakfast somewhere else.”

  Rather than deter them, they stepped further inside.

  “Is the body still here?” the other man, asked, peering around. He looked a little like an old Abe Lincoln.

  The situation had reached the point of the absurd, at least as far as I was concerned, so I was glad when the sheriff came from the back. “Marve, Joe. I’m gonna have to ask you two to leave. The café’s closed ’til further notice.”

  “But—“ Abe protested.

  The sheriff held up his finger. “No buts. Out.”

  Grumbling, the two men turned and left the way they’d come.

  “And no comparing notes,” the sheriff called to Dee and I as he marched over and sat down at the end of our table. His face softened as he looked at Dee. “I’m sorry, but I need you to go sit over there.” He pointed at a table closer to the kitchen. He watched Dee go before turning his gaze back to me.

  “Might as well just take your statements here rather than make you come all the way to the courthouse since I have some time to kill.” He cringed a bit when he realized his word choice and offered me a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that. Suppose it was a little inappropriate.” His face slid back into a no-nonsense mask. “You live around here or just passing through?”

  I returned his gaze. “I just bought Mercy Lodge.”

  He nodded. “Nice place, or it was before they stopped taking care of it. So when did you arrive in town?”

  “Last night. I stopped in here for a bite to eat and then went home.”

  He nodded, never breaking eye contact. “Why were you here this morning?”

  I tilted my head and sat back. “Well, since I just moved in, I didn’t have a coffee pot that was unpacked and ready to go—or any coffee, for that matter—so I thought I’d stop in for a cup.”

  “And what did you see when you got here?”

  Good grief. Did the man even blink? I shifted in my seat and glanced at Dee, whose back was to us. My answer wasn’t going to help her any, but lying wouldn’t help either of us. I crossed my arms over my chest. “I saw Dee standing over Fiona’s body holding the rolling pin.”

  The sheriff nodded. “Are you aware that Dee and Fiona had a turbulent relationship?”

  I barked out a laugh. “Yeah. I kind of figured that out last night, but from what I could tell, everybody and Fiona had a turbulent relationship.”

  He raised his brows a little and sighed in silent agreement. “So what is it you do, Ms ...?”

  “Toni,” I said as I leaned forward and reached out my hand. “Toni Owens.” The sheriff glanced at my extended hand as his lips twitched into a brief smile. He shook it briefly before releasing it and putting his interrogation mask back on. “Gabe Stephens. I’m the sheriff of Mercy County.”

  I sighed and sat back, folding my hands in my lap. “I’m a writer. Well, at least that’s what I’m here to do. I do freelance editing to pay the bills.”

  He looked interested when I said that, but only said, “I see. So what is it you write, Toni?”

  I tensed and sat up straighter in my chair. My answer probably wasn’t the best one, but I wasn’t going to lie about it. “Murder mysteries.”

  The Sheriff frowned. “Do you plan on writing about this murder mystery?”

  “I’m a fiction writer, not a reporter,” I clarified.

  “So you wouldn’t try to use what happened here to promote your work in any way?”

  I was pretty sure my eyebrows had just disappeared into my bangs. What the hell just happened, and where exactly was he going with this? I shook my head and bit back the snarky remark poised to fly off my tongue. “Of course not.”

  The Sheriff’s face softened once more. “I’m sorry if I seem a bit hard on you, but understand that I don’t know you. You’re a str
anger in a town that has an almost non-existent violent crime rate. A town where everybody knows everybody else, except for you. And now you’re here for less than a day, and I have a murder on my hands, and you were at the scene. If you could just wait right here, I need to go speak with Dee for a moment.” He got up and walked over to Dee’s table, taking a seat across from her.

  I wondered if it would be wise to tell him Fiona and I had butted heads the night before but decided there was such a thing as too much information, especially considering I was already getting the side-eye.

  Dee and the sheriff talked quietly, so I couldn’t hear what either of them said. I glanced at the clock. It was almost nine; I’d probably been there for half an hour, and the stress combined with a lack of caffeine was giving me a headache.

  I picked at my fingernails as the minutes dragged on, eyeballing the coffee machine and wondering whether anybody’d mind if I just made a pot. The pressure behind my eyes ratcheted up a notch and I decided I didn’t really care.

  The machine was already on, so all I had to do was add a bag to the basket and press the start button. Thankfully, it was a commercial machine and made the pot in just a couple minutes. I poured myself a cup and added cream and sugar, then resumed my seat at the booth, opening a game on my phone while I waited for whatever came next. Several minutes passed before the Sheriff returned to my table. I turned my phone over on the table and clasped my hands in my lap.

  He nodded his head toward Dee. “Dee says that you and Fiona had a heated exchange last night. Care to elaborate?”

  I sighed, giving myself a mental forehead slap for thinking Dee’d have any reason for not throwing me under the bus. This was just getting better and better. Maybe living in a small town wasn’t going to be quite as idyllic as I’d originally thought.

  Chapter 5

  “I ACCIDENTALLY LEFT my tape recorder here, and when I came back to get it, Fiona said a few nasty things to me. She’d taken the liberty of listening to it and felt she had to offer me her opinion. I probably shouldn’t have let her get to me.” I glanced at Dee again. “I probably wouldn’t have, except I’d had a miserable day followed by one of the worst burgers I’ve ever eaten in my life, and she was being horrible to Dee.” I shrugged. “I just thought I’d give the bully a taste of her own medicine. But I never threatened her, nor did I wish for anything bad to happen to her.” And that was the truth.