Death of a Batty Genius (Stormy Day Mystery #3) (5 page)

“Those are some tall trees,” Peggy said.

I leaned forward to look up through the windshield as we rolled along the row of parked cars.

“Perfect for climbing,” I said. “Jessica was always up in a tree when we were kids. It was the only way she could get peace and quiet away from her brothers.”

“I’ll put in a call to the fire department. We can use their ladder to get—Stormy! For crying out loud, wait for me to stop the car!”

I was already out and running. I’d changed clothes since I was last in the icy parking lot, and the grip on my winter boots made me sure-footed.

I ran straight for the white oak tree with the widest base. Its bottom branch hung low to the ground, inviting tree climbers to step right up. The oak was bracketed on three sides by bushy pine trees that etched my jacket with the same sap that had led me there.

“Jessica?” I peered up into the darkness, searching for a pink jacket somewhere between me and the moon.

She didn’t answer, but something rustled, and gritty particles fell into my eyes. I blinked the grit away and started climbing the tree blind. Jessica
had to be
up there. She had to be the one moving around and sending dried tree material raining down on me, because if it wasn’t her, it was a very large raccoon, and I didn’t want to make friends with a raccoon.

I climbed, legs aching as I got higher and higher.

With my eyes still tearing up from the grit, I reached out for what looked like a knobby stick to use as a handhold. The stick moved away, leaving me grasping and lurching to keep my balance. With a groan, I hugged the trunk and waited for the dizziness to pass.

Something shifted above me, sending down more grit.

“Hello?” I said. “If you’re a raccoon, please say something now. Make one of your scary raccoon noises, and I’ll be out of this tree so fast it’ll break the sound barrier.”

Nothing answered, which I hoped was no-news of the good-news variety. I reached up and groped a shoe, connected to an ankle that was, thankfully, warm and human.

“Jessica, it’s me.” I squeezed her ankle.

She made a non-verbal sound that reminded me of Jeffrey’s question-meow—the one he’d make after being awoken from a deep sleep.

I found a stable branch for my foot and got myself up to her level, then called down to Peggy on the ground, “We found her! She’s right here, just like I said!”

Peggy called up, “You two boneheads aren’t safe until you’re on the ground. Get down here.” She shone her powerful flashlight in my eyes.

I shielded my eyes from the light. “What’s the rush? The view’s great from up here, if you’d stop blinding us.”

“Stay up there all night if you want. That big ol’ raccoon two branches above you looks positively thrilled to be sharing her tree.”

I looked up and spotted the shining eyes, illuminated by Peggy’s bright flashlight.

“Uh-oh,” I said under my breath. “Jessica, climb down with me.”

I pulled on her jacket, but she hugged the trunk. The raccoon above us made curious chittering noises, then full-on complaint cries. The high-pitched distress calls scared Jessica into clamping onto the trunk tighter. That explained why she’d been stuck in the tree.

Flashing red lights flickered through the branches from below. Down on the distant ground, a firetruck parked alongside the tree. Deep voices—the firefighters coordinating with Peggy—filtered up to us on male laughter.

“Come on, Jessica. Shake a leg. Are you really going to let a bunch of
boys
rescue us from a tree? Like a couple of helpless kittens?”

The answer was yes.

The ladder extended up, and within minutes, I was being tossed over the shoulder of the biggest man I’d ever seen. Near the bottom, he handed me off as though I were a sack of potatoes and went up for Jessica.

The firefighters on the ground checked my eyes and reflexes before letting me join Peggy by the police car.

“I could have climbed down myself,” I grumbled.

She raised her eyebrows. “Tell me you didn’t have fun being tossed over that man’s shoulder. Some women pay good money for that sort of treatment, every year at the Firefighters’ Ball.”

“It wasn’t horrible.”

“The boys volunteered to drop you off at home. I’ve got another call.” She gave me a hint of a smile. “You two boneheads stay out of trouble.”

Then she was gone, red taillights disappearing into the night.

I walked back over to the firetruck, elbowing my way through the crowd that had gathered. I kept my face down, avoiding eye contact.

I found Jessica clinging to the male firefighter who’d carried us down. She had her arms around him as though he were a tree—an understandable mistake, given his size. Twigs and dried leaves stuck out of her red braids, making her resemble a wild tree spirit.

“She’s not usually like this.” I kept apologizing as I pried her off his trunk of a chest. “She was a victim of the Rainforest Delight Outbreak.”

The big oak tree of a man let out a deep laugh.

“Don’t you worry, miss,” he boomed at me. “Rescuing kittens from trees is the best part of the job. I’m Mitch.”

He offered me his hand, which engulfed mine in a handshake.

“Mitch. It’s nice to meet you, despite the circumstances. This tree sprite here is Jessica Kelly. She’s my roommate.”

One of the other firefighters came up to say the ladder had been secured and they were ready to roll out.

Mitch said, “Officer Wiggles says you live in West Creek? That’s not far from our station. We’ll drop you off.”

I refused, saying we’d call a taxi, but he insisted, on account of how the local taxis all refueled at the same gas station—the one that sold Rainforest Delight. Many of the drivers had picked up the smoothie mix, thinking it was the perfect solution for meals on the job. And it might have been, if not for the powerful hallucinations.

Jessica still wasn’t speaking, but she was calm and seemed to know who she was, if not
where
she was. The EMTs on the site cleared her to sleep it off at home rather than clog up the emergency room at the hospital.

We climbed into the fire truck for our ride home. The truck cab was full, so Jessica sat on the lap of Mitch, the oak tree fireman. They both looked very comfortable.

We pulled up at the house, where she jumped out without a word and ran toward Logan, who’d come out to the driveway to greet us.

I watched Mitch’s face fall as he saw them hug.

“That’s just Logan,” I told Mitch. “He’s not Jessica’s boyfriend, in case you’re wondering.”

Mitch nodded, his smile returning. “Roger dodger, I read you loud and clear.”

Chapter 6
 

There is no
better smell to wake up to on a Sunday morning than the scent of cinnamon buns baking.

I sighed happily as I rolled out of bed. After all the action of Saturday night, I looked forward to a productive day at home, reading my textbooks for the Private Investigator Proficiency Exam. I was still far from having the fifteen-hundred hours of work experience required by the State of Oregon, but I wanted to be prepared.

I’d been consulting for Logan’s law firm without a license, which was perfectly legal, but my access to government databases was limited. My reach was only that of the average citizen, unless I called in a favor with someone at the police department.

My most helpful contact was dimple-faced Kyle Dempsey. He’d get me information, but the fee was a drink with him. Meeting Kyle for an adult beverage would be enjoyable, had I not been his babysitter once upon a time. Flirting with a younger man is less fun if you can remember bribing him with juice boxes.

If I wanted unfettered access to information, getting my required hours then my license was the smartest way. With my books under my arm, I went to the kitchen to greet my in-house pastry chef.

Jessica was leaning over the stove, pulling out hot cinnamon buns.

“Coffee’s on,” she said.

“Marry me,” I replied, because that’s the only appropriate response when someone’s made you cinnamon buns and coffee.

“Pick a date,” she said with a laugh.

I poured coffee into my Get Your Bark On at Central Bark mug, then walked around the counter to sit at the table and gaze out the front window.

The duplex had a townhouse-style layout, with an open space from the kitchen to the living room. Jeffrey was prowling around, his smoky gray tail swishing as he chased the rainbows cast by the prism sun catchers in the front window. Other than us, the place was empty, which meant Christopher was still over on Logan’s side. I just had to get rid of him, then I would hit the books.

Jessica left the buns to cool on a rack and joined me at the table, cradling her favorite mug—the one decorated with a quirky fox cartoon—in both hands.

She asked, “Was my mother here last night?”

“Yes. She stopped by to check on you, and she even met that nice firefighter who pulled you out of the tree. His name is Mitch, by the way. Remember him? Big guy, with curly dark hair, nice brown eyes, thick eyelashes, and all those muscles. Mitch gave us a ride back home, and your mother tried to feed him chicken soup. Do you remember her spoon-feeding it to you?”

“Sorta.” Jessica scrunched her pale face, changing the pattern of the light freckles on her cheeks and nose.

“She loves you. And she’s more than a little obsessed with chicken soup.” I sipped my coffee. “What did you think of Mitch?”

She shrugged, then got up and grabbed us some not-quite-cooled cinnamon buns. She hadn’t made icing for the batch, so I got the butter dish.

We ate, comparing notes about what had happened the night before. We still didn’t know why Christopher had shown up in town, and both kept looking at the door, expecting him to walk in at any moment.

“These cinnamon buns are your best yet,” I said. “We should make more, then drop by the firehall later today to thank Mitch and the guys.”

“I’m never leaving the house again,” she said with finality.

I sipped my coffee and tried to assess her mood. Even before the Rainforest Delight, Jessica had been in a funk for a while. Was it simply exhaustion from moving, or something more?

“Jessica, you can talk to me about anything. If I were you, I’d be pretty freaked out right now. And planning a lawsuit with Logan. Biggs Foods will probably go bankrupt immediately, but there could be settlement money.”

“I just want to forget the whole night.” She went quiet, focusing on frowning at the butter dish.

Someone knocked on the door. I expected Christopher, but found a weary-looking Officer Peggy Wiggles, who had the swaying stance of someone who’d been up all night.

She kicked the snow off her boots and stepped inside, but she politely declined our offer of breakfast.

Peggy said, “I’m heading home now. Just checking in, and I brought some things for Jeffrey.” She held open the top of a paper shopping bag.

“There’s half a pet store in that bag.”

“You know how it is. Stop in to buy one little bag of catnip, leave with an armload.”

“You’ll find His Regal Grayness relaxing over there on the sofa. Please, go ahead and see if you can spoil him any more than he already is.”

While Peggy plied Jeffrey with gifts, I told Jessica how the two had met at the police station back in December, when he solved The Case of the Mouse Who Nibbled the Snack Room Crackers.

“She’s a cat person,” Jessica said knowingly. “Enough said.”

We both watched as Peggy introduced Jeffrey to a stuffed mouse attached to an elasticized string. He played catch-and-release, then trotted down the hallway with the stuffed mouse in his mouth, the string and plastic wand trailing behind him.

Peggy joined us in the kitchen. “Can I trouble you two for the packaging your smoothie mix came in? We’re tracking down all the bags for the investigation.”

Jessica retrieved the empty smoothie bag from our trash and handed it over. Peggy dropped the packaging into an official evidence bag and sealed it.

“What will happen next?” I asked. “And are you sure you won’t take a cinnamon bun?”

“No, thanks. I should be going. As for the investigation, that’s above my pay grade. This particular foodborne outbreak goes beyond this state, so now it’s a federal matter, with the FDA getting involved.” She let out a low whistle. “I would not want to be the one in charge of Biggs Foods.”