Eat, Drink and Be Wary

by Devon Delaney

  Sherry shook her head in disgust. “You sound like you’re proud of deceiving your customers. You should be ashamed. The authorities will be all over Maine Course soon enough.”

  “Uri’s reworking the situation, as we speak. The authorities will have a hard time proving Maine Course isn’t everything they advertise.”

  “You still haven’t said where you were at the time of the murder and how you can prove it.”

  Roe’s face softened. “Kelly and I, well, we’re having a thing.”

  Pep cleared his throat. “Fitz’s Kelly?”

  Roe nodded. “My Kelly was never truly Fitz’s Kelly, as you so unceremoniously put it.”

  “That tigress hasn’t changed her stripes,” Sherry muttered.

  “Kelly told Fitz she was going to bed early to rest up for the cook-off. After we took a moonlit walk around the veranda and barn, we headed out. She had gotten her own room here because the old boy, Fitz, snored like a chainsaw. She made sure she told everyone. For convenience sake, we also kept a room at the Augustin Motor Lodge. Ask that spice guy, Lyman. He saw us that night. He was also staying at the Motor Lodge. He even saw us early the next morning when I returned Kelly to the inn. He was packing up his car for an early morning kite surf before the cook-off. Crazy thing to do, I thought.”

  “So you’re judging other people’s actions now?” Pep asked. “How much bad karma can one guy wish upon himself?”

  “Okay, okay, I get your point,” Roe said. “That’s my alibi, and it’s a good one. Oh, and one more interesting nugget of information.”

  “What’s that?” Pep asked.

  “Uri was making regular payments to Fitz to keep him quiet about the late-night fish deliveries received up in Portland from overseas, rather than within a reasonable distance considered local.”

  “Hush payments,” Pep chided.

  Roe nodded his head with authority. “It’s the truth. Kelly showed me a cancelled check from Fitz. He was bragging about the arrangement to her one day. Said she should keep the check as a souvenir of his good work. Said it was almost enough to pay for a wedding. Joke was going to be on him. There was no way she would ever marry that loser.” Roe dusted his hands together. “Moot point now.”

  “Why is it so important for you to find the killer?” Sherry asked. “I mean, you just admitted you’re a cheat, a shady business dealer, and a scam artist. Are you suddenly seeking redemption?”

  “I’m not a monster. I’m doing it for Kelly. We’ve fallen in love. Never in a million years would we have thought Fitz would die before we were able to break the news of our relationship to him. Believe me, I’m not too broken up over his death. Kelly is feeling all sorts of guilt. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’d like to get Pep off the hook.” Roe gave Pep his full attention. “He definitely got into it with Fitz that night. Guessing the argument was about the time we first met up in Portland. If only you hadn’t taken a walk in the wee hours of the morning and seen what you saw. Maybe Fitz would be alive today.”

  “Nice try,” Pep said. “You can’t spin this any other way. You’re the lowest of the low. You were planting evidence in Charlotte’s room.”

  “I don’t know why you keep saying that. I told you I didn’t.” Roe shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out the gold box. With a flick of his thumb, he popped open the hinged lid. A sparkly gold ring lay inside the box.

  “I admit, there was a hook in this box,” Roe stated. “I was asked by Uri to put it in your girlfriend’s room. I made a show of doing his bidding, but, obviously, I dumped the hook. I gave it away. I really was on my way to Kelly’s room with a promise ring to brighten her day. After I made sure Uri saw me go into room one nineteen.”

  “Ginger was covering for Uri. She may or may not have dyslexia. Who knows? I do think she shouldn’t have let Uri behind her desk, where he could get at the room keys,” Sherry said.

  “I don’t care. I’m done with Ginger, and I’m done with Uri. If you could help a guy out,” Roe pleaded. “I may have done a few underhanded things but never murder. Never. And I’ve never met such a lovely girl as Kelly. If not for me, do it for her.”

  Sherry sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. No promises, though. If nothing else, how about if you clean up your act, for her sake.”

  “Hello, everyone.” Uri dipped his chin in Sherry’s direction. “Roe, care to join me for a nightcap at the bar?”

  “I’d like that.” He shoved the box back in his pocket.

  “If you’ll grab us a seat, I’ll meet you there in five minutes.”

  “Yes, sir,” Roe replied mechanically, as if he’d uttered the reply thousands of times in the past. “Gin and tonic, with a twist of lime?”

  “You know me too well,” Uri laughed.

  Roe headed down the hall and turned a corner.

  Sherry opened her mouth to speak at the exact moment Uri and Pep did. Everyone’s words crashed into one another.

  “Sorry. You go ahead,” Sherry instructed Uri.

  “You solve murders. I need you to verify the person I’m sure killed Fitz has enough evidence against him to be locked up. That Detective Bease is on a limited schedule I can’t work with. He doesn’t seem to care time is money, and both are running out. This is becoming too much for Ginger.”

  “Everyone keeps telling me time is running out. I’ve helped out in three murder investigations. I wouldn’t exactly say I solved them single-handedly.”

  Before Sherry could continue, Pep added, “You had a very good reason to kill Fitz. Why are you asking Sherry to speed up an investigation that could very well land you behind bars?”

  Uri ran his manicured fingers through his hair. Around his wrist was a thick gold chain bracelet that caught the light as he moved his hand. The last swipe through his hair caught a tangle, and Sherry could see a slight shift in the hairpiece centered on Uri’s scalp.

  “No worries there. Roe did it. He probably took out Vilma, too. Better sooner, rather than later, to put Roe away, so no one else gets hurt. He’s lost touch with reality. I’ve suspected he did it since the night of the party, but now I have hard evidence.”

  “Something you can share?” Pep asked.

  “Roe wasn’t with me at the time of the murder. We left the party together, and I dropped him off at his room. I returned to the lobby to help Ginger with the last cleanup before handing the job over to Oxana. That was around midnight. I knocked on Roe’s door on my way back to my room. No answer.”

  Sherry considered Roe’s description of his visit to the Motor Lodge with Kelly. She pursed her lips and remained silent.

  “Of course, I didn’t want to wake him, so I gave up. I returned to my room on the other side of the building. The fastest route is outdoors. Who do you think I spotted emerging from the side of the barn? If that’s not a smoking gun, I don’t know what is.”

  Sherry and Pep exchanged glances.

  “How much longer are you in town?” Sherry asked.

  “Ginger needs some moral support. I said I could spare a day or two longer. We’re all sunk if I don’t keep the Maine Course ship righted, though. I need to get back to work. Our cook-off sponsorship can only keep us in the consumer’s mind for so long.”

  “Did you, by any chance, see the cook-off article Vilma wrote? It was in the paper this morning.”

  Uri screwed up his face into a sneer. “No, and I’m not sure I want to. We didn’t end on such a positive note. Some people take a kind word and misconstrue it for a more intimate expression of feelings. In her case, I should have been a touch more reserved with my compliments. She attacked me verbally for leading her on. Can’t a man say something nice these days without being punished?”

  “You may want to read it. If for no other reason than to learn how much of a mess you need to clean up. She got her last licks in.”

  Chapter 27

  “Well, that was informative and confusing. Three potential suspects asking me to speed up the investigation and find the killer. And th
ey want it done yesterday.”

  “Add me to that list,” Pep said.

  Sherry checked left and right and steered the car out of the inn’s driveway. In the passenger seat, Pep leaned heavily on the headrest. His eyelids were sagging. Sherry envied the way her brother could drift off to sleep in a matter of seconds. He must have so much on his mind with the baby, a future suddenly filled with responsibility, and a fiancée. Yet, there he was, a possible suspect in a murder investigation, able to pass peacefully into dreamland, seemingly without a care in the world.

  Sherry’s phone interrupted the car’s quiet. Pep lurched forward and produced an abrupt snore, all the while keeping his eyes closed. She punched the button to accept the call before the second ring.

  “I can’t do it anymore.”

  “Ray?” Sherry double-checked the name on the console screen. The desperation in the voice was so uncharacteristic of Ray, she was sure she had read the name incorrectly. She hadn’t. “Can’t do what?”

  “I’m putting in for a leave of absence from the department. I haven’t slept in days. My mother consumes every waking hour. The captain’s right.” Ray’s voice dropped down to a near whisper. “I’m not able to do both jobs to the best of my ability.”

  “Hang on a minute. I have an idea.”

  “If it’s a way to make my aging mother comfortable and positive in the winter of her life, let me have it.”

  Pep sleep snorted.

  “If it’s about the investigation, don’t waste your time. I admit defeat. Let the young bucks take over. Sorry to have bothered you.”

  “Wait, don’t hang up. It’s about your mother.” Sherry heard Ray suck in a shallow breath. “Amber writes a family therapy advice column. You remember she was a marriage and family therapist for many years before she moved into retail?”

  Ray grunted softly on the other end of the phone.

  “I described your situation to her. She told me someone with your exact situation wrote in. She did tons of research on places for elder care facilities, all ranges of care.”

  “I couldn’t send Mom away,” Ray stated. “Non-negotiable. Thanks, anyway.”

  “Hear me out. I’m going to have her text you the name of two facilities in the county. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at what you find when you visit. Your mother will be happier when she knows you’re satisfied resigning yourself to accepting outside help. The caregiver often suffers more than the patient when they try to take on too much. No one wins.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Might be time to give up control.” Ray struggled with each word.

  “For me to hear you say those words and think it’s okay, you have to know I understand what you’re going through. I hate giving up control.” Sherry laughed half-heartedly. “I’ll text her as soon as I get home.”

  “Thank you.”

  “In the meantime, switching gears, since you’re not taking a leave of absence, Pep and I were at the inn and spoke to Uri and Roe. Both have motives to want Fitz dead.”

  Beside her, Pep stirred.

  “That’s not news. And I didn’t say I wasn’t taking a leave of absence. I’ll postpone it for a few days.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Pep asked.

  “Ray Bease,” Sherry answered.

  “Who are you talking to?” Ray asked.

  “Pep’s sitting next to me in the car. We’re driving back home from the inn.”

  “I got the recordings from Vilma’s car dash camera to review. Not sure if it’ll yield any results, but hopeful,” Ray said.

  Sherry slowed the car and pulled over to the side of the road. She punched the button to turn on the car’s hazard warning lights.

  “I have a list for you to write down.” Sherry smiled when she heard Ray groan. She clicked over to her phone’s notepad app. “Ready?” She read the words in a slow, deliberate tone. “Cook-off, recipe, fraud, double-cross, desperation, no other way out.”

  “Is that it? Pretty thin list.” He clicked Sherry off and was gone.

  After arriving home, Pep tucked a drowsy Charlotte into bed. Sherry remained in the living room. With Chutney snuggled up tight beside her, she juggled the cook-off contestant recipe booklet and a section of the newspaper on her lap.

  Sherry ran her finger down Vilma’s article. She found the spot where Vilma mentioned the brother of one of the best home cooks in the county was her choice as Fitz’s murderer. She swapped reading material for the recipe booklet. Opening to Fitz’s page, she skimmed over his bio. Property manager. Contest cook. Previous finalist. Nothing outstanding. Except in the recipe itself.

  “Too sweet, Fitz,” Sherry whispered. “Your shrimp coating was on the sweet side. I don’t think the recipe would have made it through preliminary judging, if you had submitted it through proper channels, like the rest of us finalists. Are you trying to tell me the person who killed you was too sweet?”

  “Has Chutney ever answered you?” Pep took a seat across from Sherry.

  “He’s too smart to get into a debate with me.”

  “Have you given the note, supposedly from Oxana, any thought?” Pep asked.

  “She wrote, ‘check the box.’ What do you think that refers to? Vilma’s gold box or a box next to a to-do list that you tick off when the task is complete? What does it mean? Oxana, where are you?”

  A muffled voice from the second floor caught Sherry’s attention. “Does Charlotte sleep talk?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. I better go see what’s up.” Pep jumped out of his chair and bounded up the stairs. Before Sherry could reshuffle the papers on her lap, he returned.

  “My phone woke her up. Now I’m in trouble for not muting it. Good news is she was back asleep before I left the room.” Pep’s smile turned to a frown when he read the new text. “Oxana.”

  “Oxana? You got a text from Oxana? Or about her?”

  “She texted if I’m still in the area, could I stop by the barn at the inn at nine tomorrow morning. She doesn’t want me to mention this to anyone.” Pep studied his phone. “She didn’t necessarily write this. How do we know her phone is back in her possession?”

  “Doesn’t matter who wrote it. We’re going back to the inn.”

  * * *

  The next morning after breakfast, Charlotte announced she was spending the morning working on her research. She sequestered herself in an upstairs bedroom with her textbooks and Chutney.

  “See you in an hour,” Pep called up the stairs. “Keep an eye on her, Chutney.”

  “Good luck,” was shouted through the closed door on the second floor.

  A bark followed.

  “I’ll meet you in the car. I want to grab something.” Sherry found what she was looking for under the kitchen sink—a small glass bottle with a pump spray nozzle. She dropped the bottle in her purse, collected her barn coat, and headed to the front door.

  As she stepped out the door, Pep called out from the car. “Eileen dropped that bag off. I didn’t know if you wanted it inside or in the car, so I left it on the porch.”

  Sherry picked up the canvas bag she’d nearly tripped over and peered inside. She read the accompanying note. “I’ll leave it inside,” Sherry replied.

  * * *

  “Ginger’s going to start charging us a room fee if we keep showing up.” Sherry parked the car in the inn’s lot. She checked the time on her phone. “Ten minutes to get to the barn. We could have had one more cup of coffee.”

  “I wouldn’t mind if we grabbed one of those lemon Danishes Ginger keeps a fresh supply of in the library. I think I’ve had one every day since I’ve been in Augustin. A bonus of visiting Charlotte in the morning.”

  “Explains why you never ate much breakfast whenever I offered you some,” Sherry said.

  “Explains why my waistband is so tight.” Pep led Sherry into the library. He made a beeline for the tray of Danishes and cookies. “Here’s a copy of the cook-off recipe booklet.” Pep picked up the colorfully decorated booklet and w
aved it in front of Sherry.

  “We have a huge collection of cookbooks, if you’re interested.”

  Sherry rotated and came face to face with Ginger.

  “That entire shelf is cookbooks. Whenever we have a guest who has authored a cookbook, or any book, for that matter, I rush out and buy a copy.” Ginger gave Sherry a sly smile. “Speaking of books, would you two like to book a room? You seem to be here so often, you may want to consider it.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that. We’re trying to get to the bottom of Fitz’s mystery, and the inn is ground zero right now,” Sherry said.

  “I appreciate your efforts. I really do. I’m beside myself about who could have done these awful crimes.”

  Sherry took a look around the surrounding bookshelves. “Did you know Vilma authored a book under the pen name Granger?”

  “Say no more.” Ginger made her way over to the corner shelf. She ran her finger along a row of books before stopping midway across. “Stella Granger. How to Solve a Murder or Die Trying. The irony of that title. Vilma may not have been my favorite person, but I never wished her ill will. The book itself won’t be on the best-seller list any time soon, I’m afraid. Even postmortem. It follows a fictional detective through his paces. Really dry stuff. Not even an exciting mystery involved.”

  Ginger strolled a few steps to the other side of the bookshelf. “Now, if you want a fascinating read, I suggest this cookbook.” She lifted the book from the shelf. A thin shower of dust sprinkled down from the binding. She handed the book to Sherry.

  Sherry showed the cover to Pep, who was munching on a lemon Danish. “The Magic of the Meal. It says it’s a nationwide bestseller, and it won three awards. Amazing. I’d love to borrow this. Did the author stay here?”

  “You’re looking at her.” Ginger pointed to the lower portion of the book cover. “I’m Chef Ginny C., one of the original celebrity chefs.”

  Sherry handed the book to Pep. “Wow. When did you have time to write this book?”

  Pep opened the cover. “This is almost twenty years old. You must have been—” Pep stopped short. “I’m not in the business of guessing people’s ages.”