License to Dill (21 page)

P
iper's shop phone rang, and she left the fruit basket to go answer it.

“Miss Lamb? This is Lorraine Jackson. I was wondering if you carried crushed fenugreek?”

“Fenugreek?” Piper thought for a moment. “I'm sure I carry it, but let me check if it's in stock.” Piper set down the phone and hurried over to her spice shelves. She ran her finger along the alphabetically arranged jars and came to an empty space next to fennel.

“I'm so sorry, but I'm totally out,” she reported. Hearing a sigh, she quickly added, “I can probably get it within two days. Would you like me to?”

“Oh, please do! I have this lovely recipe for Indian lemon pickle that I got from my friend's mother. I'm so eager to try it.”

Piper took down Lorraine's contact information and promised to let her know the instant the fenugreek arrived. She also hoped that when she came to pick it up the woman would be open to sharing her recipe.

That done, Piper returned to her fruit basket. Instead of untying the red bow at the top of the basket, she picked up the note that lay beside it. Piper didn't know Miranda's handwriting, but it wouldn't have mattered if she did. The few words on the note had been printed, scribbled really, as though in haste. That made sense, since Miranda certainly had much to catch up with during the minimal time she took away from Frederico's side.

Piper knew she could have been heard chopping busily in the back. So leaving the fruit basket with a note to save both women time and where Piper would quickly find it was reasonable.

She loosened the bow and pulled back the cellophane. The perfect pear caught the sun beaming through the window and fairly glowed. Instead of plucking off the luscious-looking fruit and biting into it, though, Piper pulled out her phone. She scrolled down the names and chose Miranda's number—and got voice mail. Piper disconnected and immediately called at the Standley house. Denise Standley answered.

“Denise, this is Piper. Is Miranda there?”

“No, she isn't. I'm sure she's at the hospital right now.”

“She probably turns her phone off while she's there, right?” Piper asked.

“Yes, that's the rule. She does leave the area and check in with me once in a while. Would you like me to give her a message?”

“Ask her to call me, please. It's important.”

Denise promised she would, and Piper sat down, staring at the pyramid of fruit perched on her counter.

She'd closed up shop by the time Miranda called, and Piper explained her concern.

“A fruit basket? No, I didn't leave you one. I've been here all day. Why would someone say it was from me?”

Why indeed?
“I'll look into it,” Piper said. “How is Frederico?”

“A little bit better,” Miranda said without much conviction. Piper instead heard plenty of fatigue in her voice.

“Don't exhaust yourself,” she cautioned. “Frederico is in safe hands. You'll want to save energy for when he wakes up.”

“I will,” Miranda promised, though the conviction once again was missing.

Piper disconnected and took a deep breath. Then she called the sheriff.

“T
his will have to go to the crime lab. We may not know anything for a few days.” Sheriff Carlyle had carefully bagged the entire fruit basket, including the note supposedly written by Miranda.

“Any thoughts as to who actually left it here?” he asked.

Piper shook her head. “Whoever it was waited until I was alone and occupied in the back of the shop. They could have learned that with a quick peek through the windows in the back. They also managed to slip in the front of the shop without setting off my bell. How they managed that, I don't understand. I always hear the bell, even when I have music playing as I did.”

The sheriff walked over to Piper's shop door. He stepped outside, pulled the door closed, then opened it a millimeter at a time. The wire Piper had attached to the door and strung across the ceiling didn't move the bell enough to make an alerting jingle.

“It needs a brisk motion,” he said, “the kind your average customer makes when coming in. Your intruder apparently was prepared to deal with that.”

Piper shivered at the word “intruder.” She'd been alone in the shop. What if her intruder had decided on a more direct threat?

“I'll check with your neighbors. Maybe someone saw this person carrying a fruit basket.”

“Maybe,” Piper said, though she doubted they would be so lucky. Whoever had done this had obviously planned carefully.

After the sheriff left, Piper called Will. “Hi,” she said when he picked up. “I'm in need of a strong shoulder to lean on at the moment. Got one to spare?”

P
iper and Will walked into the front entrance of the Bellingham Mall, Will having overridden Piper's offer to fix dinner for the two of them at her place. “I think a few hours away from Cloverdale would be better for you,” he'd said, and it didn't take much urging for Piper to agree.

They ended up at a chicken and ribs place located in a side alleyway of the mall after first passing up an Italian restaurant. Piper normally loved lasagna and Chianti, but that night anything Italian held little appeal for her.

Over their meal, Will was the calm, thoughtful listener she'd known he would be as she shared her thoughts on the latest developments. The last thing she had wanted was someone who would insist she stop what she'd been involved in and hide away at Aunt Judy and Uncle Frank's place until everything had blown over.

“I feel we're getting so close!” she'd said.

What she needed was someone to simply hear her out, possibly help her to see the clues more clearly, and reassure her of her ability to keep herself safe (possibly with his backup) as she worked to unmask the murderer who still walked free in Cloverdale.

Will did all this and more, and by the end of the meal Piper felt 100 percent better than she had a few hours before. They passed on the cakes and pies listed on the dessert menu and went in search of ice cream cones instead, which they found in the food court not that far away. With a scoop of chocolate almond fudge for Piper and blueberry swirl for Will, they continued their stroll through the mall, fingers laced cozily together.

They wandered past shoe shops, camera shops, and computer shops, saying little but just fine with that. At the sporting goods store, though, they paused. There, in the window, was a display of soccer shoes, jerseys, and black-and-white soccer balls. Piper gazed as though transfixed.

“Does it seem ages ago that we sat in the stands and cheered for the Cloverdale All-Stars?” she asked.

“It does,” Will agreed. “And looking back it seems like a different world. The worst thing we had to deal with then was the Bianconeri player faking an injury near the end of the second game and taking the match. Now there's a man murdered, another in a coma, and someone very dangerous still on the loose.”

Piper headed to an unoccupied bench across from the sporting goods store. “I'm beginning to have second thoughts that Francesca is our culprit,” she said.

“Even after learning about her expert racing skills?” Will asked, taking a seat beside her.

“Even after that. I'd much prefer it to be her, or even Coach Tortorelli. I can totally picture either of them running down poor Frederico and terrorizing me. But what bothers me is the thing with the fruit basket. How would either of them have known to open the door to my shop so carefully that my bell wouldn't jingle? They've never been to Piper's Picklings.”

“Hmm.” Will polished off the rest of his cone and swiped the paper napkin over his mouth and hands. “Taking those two out of the mix, though, narrows it down to someone local.” He tossed his crumpled napkin into a nearby trash basket.

“I know, and that's regrettable. But if it is, it is.”

“So who knows your shop really well and also has the strongest motive to kill Conti?”

Piper dropped the last of her cone into the trash, having lost her appetite for the treat. “When it's put that way,” she said, her voice pained, “the answer has to be Gerald Standley.”

A
fter Will brought her home, Piper paced her apartment. She wasn't the least bit happy with her statement about the most likely murder suspect. After all, she'd become involved in the first place because of her strong belief in Standley's innocence. But the fact remained that the dill farmer knew her shop well from all the deliveries he'd made to it. He had probably the strongest motive for wanting to kill Conti, as well as one for removing Frederico from his daughter's life.

Carl Ehlers also had a solid motive for murdering Conti. But she couldn't remember him ever having been in her shop. She also couldn't think of any reason he would want to harm Frederico.

She must be missing something. Gil had asked her to list the people who were aware that Piper would be on the road the night of her hospital visit, and she mentally ran down that list: Crystal, who was Carl Ehlers's employee and could have passed it on to him; Don Tucker, who Piper herself had told over the phone; and Miranda, of course, who could have easily shared it with her father, Gerald.

After that, there were the people who were aware she was looking into Raffaele Conti's murder: Emma Leahy and her group, which included Phil Laseter, Joan Tilley, and Don Tucker. They all seemed trustworthy. Tucker made both lists because of his job at the Cloverton Hotel as well as his involvement with Emma's group, but Piper didn't know of any link he would have had to Conti other than through Conti's stay at the hotel. Francesca Conti and Coach Tortorelli may have spotted Piper at the Mariachi. Could they also have learned about her investigative activities through Don Tucker, perhaps overhearing him on the phone? Then Piper thought about Wendy Prizer.

Wendy knew that Piper was looking into the murder. Had Piper overlooked her as a possible suspect? Conti had been to Wendy's home the night he was murdered. She'd claimed they'd left on good terms and that she'd been unaware he was married until after his death. But was she? What if she'd found out earlier and they'd argued? Piper shook her head. It didn't make sense. Assuming Wendy had such strong feelings for a man she had only recently reconnected with, why would she kill Conti in the Standley dill field?