Nipped in the Bud (20 page)

He groaned. “I think it’s in both our interests to handle your case by phone and e-mail from now on. No personal contact except when required by an outside party.”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

“No, but neither does jail. I’ll do a better job for you if my head is fully in the game. So, can we try?”

“Fine, but you know what they say. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Don’t blame me if that happens.”

He laughed, deep and breathy, and altogether pleasant to listen to. “So tell me what you’ve been up to today.”

I gave him precise details of my conversation with Charlie and my multitude of phone messages. “I’m still waiting for Perry to check into the cash. I’ve pretty much struck out with the papers on finding any information about Fulcrum. I did find the name of the reporter who wrote up all the council meetings. He disappeared about the same time Nancy Kimble said she confronted the council. I’d like to talk to him, so I’ll make a trip to the newspaper office to see if Jack can give me the reporter’s contact info.”

“Might be a good time for us to sit down with the police chief and fill him in on what’s happening.”

“Mitch?” I shrieked then held my breath in wait for a Stacey reprimand. I scanned the room and didn’t see her. She must still be in the back room but I lowered my voice anyway. “Are you kidding? He’d just laugh in my face. No, I can’t go to Mitch until I’ve solved the whole thing.”

Silence, long and uncomfortable, filled the phone. “Be careful, Paige. You should tell as few people as possible about what you’ve discovered. If this Gus fellow was taking payoffs from
Picklemann
, even if he didn’t kill him, he might make trouble for you. And if he did kill
Picklemann
.
. .well, he might strike again.”

I laughed. “You’re overreacting. I don’t think there’s a cold-blooded killer running around here. I’m sure Bud was killed in the heat of the moment.”

“Doesn’t mean they won’t strike again.
Listen to me, Paige. I’ve seen it many times in my career. Someone kills out of passion then figures they have to keep killing to cover their tracks. So, like I said. Be careful. And keep me informed of your whereabouts. Just because we can’t see each other doesn’t mean we can’t talk.”

We offered pleasant good-byes, and I settled back to work. Just hearing from Adam gave me the incentive I needed to plow through the final box. I picked up a paper and began flipping through the pages.

Wait, what’s that?

I flipped the page back.

Well, I’ll be.

The résumé of one Stacey Darling, my librarian nemesis, was posted right below the council minutes in the month she was hired. Boy, she had a lot of experience as a librarian, and a master’s degree to boot. Stacey might just wear her age well, but I was certain she wasn’t old enough to have obtained her master’s degree
and
have worked all of the jobs on her résumé. The fact that she had been ugly to me made me feel a little less guilty for the intense scrutiny of her past that I planned to engage in.

After finishing the stack, I photocopied the résumé and then returned the box to the counter. Stacey rose from her desk, cold eyes appraising me as she glided my way.

“Thanks for your help,” I said, all cheerful and polite. I should have stopped right there, but her attitude needed adjustment, and as usual, I thought I had to be the one to do it. “These papers have been most helpful. Found lots of interesting things.” I made a big production out of setting the copy of her résumé on the counter. “I’m curious. With all your great experience, why would you choose to work in this little town?”

Eyes wary, posture less assured, she shrugged. “I wanted to work where people are warm and grateful for my help. Serendipity seemed like that kind of place.” She jerked the box off the counter. “If this is all you need, I have
work
to do.”

Her tone resembled Charlie’s, and I would get nothing more out of her now. It was clear that I was on the right track. She was hiding something. I simply needed to find out what it was. “Once I have time to make sense of everything I found, I’ll be back.”

I snatched up the résumé and let my words hang in the air like the warning I intended. Forcing out a smile, I spun and slowly walked to the door. I let a big grin consume my face and kept it there all the way to the shop.

The morning had all but disappeared, and I expected to find Hazel literally up to her elbows in potting soil.

“Sorry, Paige,” she said. “Kurt still hasn’t been here. We might have a late night.”

I checked my watch. “Teri’s already on her way in. When she gets here, how about I treat you to lunch at the Bakery? Maybe I’ll get a call about Bud having cash. If I do before we’re finished with lunch, we’ll both go confront Gus. What do you say?”

“Lunch followed by a nice dessert of confrontation? I’m in.” She grinned with excitement.

I thought about actually discovering something of importance when we questioned Gus and resisted the urge to rub my hands together like an evil villain. There would be plenty of time for that once I knew the killer’s name.

“And now, enjoy the best of Through the Garden Gate with your beloved host, Paige Turner.”

“Hi, Paige, this is Daniel in Clackamas. I’m like your biggest fan, but I have a problem with something you mentioned about dinner plate dahlias.”

“Oh, Daniel, I’m so glad you brought up dahlias. They’re one of my favorite plants and the hybrid ‘Mystery Day’ with its big skyrocket purple and white blooms really make a big impact in your garden. I can’t get enough of them. They produce flowers seven inches across and have really earned the nickname ‘dinner plate.’ So, what’s your problem, Daniel? Did they not grow large enough for you? If not, you probably need to give them more water.”

“No, that’s not it. My wife and I are just really disappointed in how poorly they hold our food. Dinner time at our house is getting really messy.”

Hazel and I tucked into our fresh yummy sandwiches as if we hadn’t been fed in months. When
Nancy
’s boss called on the way over to the restaurant, confirming
Nancy
’s alibi and wiping out a suspect in one fell swoop, I thought I might not have an appetite. Even more so when we arrived to find the Bakery jammed with lunchtime customers who kept glancing at us and whispering behind their hands. But then Donna set the food before me, and suddenly I was ravenous. Who knows, maybe I was getting used to being fodder for the town’s gossip.

“I hope this whispering ends soon,” I said to Hazel and snagged a chip. “I wonder what or who they’ll move on to next.”

Hazel set down her sandwich and leaned across the table.
“Used to be me.
Now that I’ve been working for you, most of the folks have gotten a little more accepting.”

“It’s not right. Why do we have to judge people all the time?”

“Guess it makes some people feel better about
themselves
.”

“Well, you’re a perfect example of being judged one way and then proving them all wrong.”

She gave me a forced smile. “You’ll do the same once we figure out who killed Bud.”

We ate in silence, relishing every bite of our lunches. Having watched Adam eat a Reuben yesterday, I’d ordered one dripping with sauce, cheese, and sauerkraut. Hazel chose a burger, rare and juicy and topped with a thick slab of Swiss cheese and mounds of mushrooms.

She’d nearly devoured the whole burger when she looked toward the door and stopped chewing. “Hey, look, there’s Lisa’s husband. I hope Lisa and the girls aren’t coming, too. They wore me out.”

Chewing and feeling Hazel’s pain, I pivoted in my chair. As Perry scanned the restaurant, probably for Lisa, I caught his attention, and he wound his way through the curious diners.

He stopped in front of our table.
“Hi, ladies.
I was just looking for Lisa. We’re having lunch today.”

“She told me,” I said and stuffed the last bite of Reuben into my mouth.

He looked around again as if searching the crowd would make Lisa materialize. “I wonder where she is. We were supposed to meet here fifteen minutes ago. I thought I’d be in trouble for being late.”

I finished chewing. “Maybe she had a hard time getting the girls to settle in at her mom’s.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably it. Say,
listen,
as long as you’re here, I have some information for you.” He pulled out a chair, and as he sat, he glanced at Hazel. “It’s kind of private.”

“Is it about Bud?”

He nodded.

“Then you can tell me. Hazel’s been helping me find Bud’s killer.” I smiled at Hazel, whose eyebrows rose. “In fact, she’s the one who found out about Winnie.”

Perry’s forehead creased as he studied my eyes. Then as quickly as the crease came, it left, and he shrugged. “Well, okay, if you’re sure. I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

I groaned, not only from having to make the decision but from an overly full stomach. I shouldn’t have eaten the whole sandwich and definitely not so fast. “Don’t make me choose. You pick.”

He leaned forward. “Okay, here goes. My source says the police are expecting a report on forensic evidence by the end of the day. He said Mitch is eagerly waiting for the proof that your shovel killed
Picklemann
.”

A forensic report arriving in Mitch’s eager little—
er
—big hands, tying my shovel to the murder, meant Mitch was proceeding with his quest to jail me. I glanced at Hazel and hoped my face didn’t hold the same tight, fearful response as hers did. “I’ll assume that’s the bad news.
And the good?”

“
Picklemann
had three thousand dollars in cash on him.”

Hazel shot a fist into the air. “That is good news. Bet with that much dough in his pocket he was paying off the whole council.”

“Not so fast, Hazel,” Perry said. “A sum that large might mean it’s totally unrelated to Gus.” Perry faced me. “I asked my friend if they’d done any digging into
Picklemann’s
finances. He said they had, but they hadn’t found anything yet. I’ll keep after him, though.”

I didn’t know what to make of this development. As Perry said, it might mean something totally different. Perry moved to stand. I snagged his wrist and pulled him back down. “Speaking of digging, do you remember
Zac
Young, a reporter for the
Times
?”

Perry snatched a chip from my plate and thoughtfully chewed.
“Yeah, sure.
If I remember right, he got tired of small town life and left for the big city.”

Did I detect a wistful tone in his words? I sat forward and peered into his eyes. Was Lisa right about his unhappiness? I needed to pursue this and see if I could learn anything that might help calm Lisa’s worries. “Take it from
me,
the big city isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

His eyes clouded over as he picked up another chip. “No, I guess not. Especially once you’re married and have kids.
Zac
was young, just out of college. I think he was dying here.”

And
I
was thinking Lisa was right. Perry did look a bit unhappy. “You lived in a big city when you went to college. Is that something—
”

A commotion by the door caught Hazel and Perry’s attention. I followed their gazes only to wish I hadn’t. At the counter, standing proud and as tall as her five-foot-three body could manage, was Lisa. She wore the most atrocious sparkly halter-top, formfitting black pants, and shoes that shone as bright as the top. She’d been shopping at
Uma’s
boutique.

The room buzzed with conversation. A few titters broke the hum, and Lisa’s eyes turned wary. Perry shot to his feet and rushed to her side. He protectively wrapped his arm around his wife and whispered something into her ear. She lurched back, nearly stumbling from the sudden move in three-inch heels.

“I’m
so
sorry I’m an embarrassment to you,” she shouted at Perry. “I was just trying to spice things up so you wouldn’t leave us.”

“Leave you?” Perry’s words came out in a high squeal. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know.” Lisa spun on her heels and marched out the door. Perry made a quick sweep of the room with his baffled gaze then ran after her, letting the door slam and the bells tinkle.

I cringed and huddled in my seat. My little Shasta daisy had tried to be a bright showy dinner plate dahlia and failed in what was the most desperate attempt to keep a man I’d ever witnessed. And it was perpetrated by my best friend, who I would have to convince at some point today, that her public debacle wasn’t as bad as it appeared. That she wouldn’t be the laughingstock of the town or that people wouldn’t gossip about her. She thrived on propriety, and it could take a long time for her to recover.

“Think she’s okay?” Hazel asked.

I turned back to Hazel, noting that others were staring at me again. “Let’s get out of here.”

I tossed some bills onto the table and slowly wound through the chattering customers to the outside, where it had begun to mist and was now severely overcast, very much like my mood. I couldn’t bear to see my best friend’s suffering, and it made me feel helpless.