Thirty-Four and a Half Predicaments: Rose Gardner Mystery #7 (13 page)

Without budging from her stool or putting down her pencil, the woman gave me a blank stare. “You’re asking
me?
”

I shrugged. “Well, yeah.”

She hopped up and strode over to the case. “What makes you think I’d know?”

“I…”

Her eyebrows lifted in mock surprise. “Because all the old people shop here now?”

“That’s not what I meant. I—”

She laughed. “I’m just shittin’ ya.” When she stopped guffawing, she said, “Who’re you shoppin’ for? Maybe I know their favorite.”

She seemed mighty jovial considering she was liable to be out of a job if Ima Jean heard her talking that way. “Mildred Winkleman. I’m hopin’ to butter her up.”

She burst out laughing again. “
Mildred?
Why, there ain’t enough sugar in this whole shop to sweeten that woman up, let alone butter her to boot.”

“So, she doesn’t come in here?”

“Oh, she comes in here all right. She tries to tell me that our cakes are too dry and our pie crust is too tough. Why just last week, I told ’er she was more than welcome to show me how it ought to be done, but she stomped off, sniveling about the ungrateful younger generation.”

I supposed the woman was young enough for Mildred to refer to her as a part of a younger generation. “There’s nothing she likes?”

“I don’t know if she likes them or not, but she always gets the double chocolate brownies. She claims she uses them as a laxative. Comes in every week like clockwork to get her week’s supply.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“You want me to package some up for ya? I can put ’em in a box with a ribbon.”

“Uh…” Was giving a gift that was the equivalent of Ex Lax, only tied up with a bow, a good idea? “Yeah. That would be great.”

“Sure thing.” She scooped out a couple of brownies and put them in a small green bag, then wrapped red ribbon all around it and tied it off. It looked like it had been wrapped by a drunken elf after he’d broken his hand in a tussle with a reindeer.

She slapped the bag on the counter and I fought a cringe. Between the smack and how tightly wrapped the bag was, the brownies had to be crushed.

“That’ll be ten dollars.”

My mouth dropped. “For two brownies?”

She shrugged. “What are ya gonna do? Inflation and all that jazz. Plus, we raised the prices to make more money since we only have a quarter of the customers we used to have before Dena’s Bakery opened.”

I wanted to tell her that raising prices in response to declining business was a terrible idea, but I figured that was the least of her worries.

“Have you been there?” she asked as I handed her the money.

“Where?”

“Dena’s. Her marble cake is to die for.”

“You’ve shopped there?” I asked in surprise.

“Of course,” she said, acting as if I were a fool. “You think I’d eat this garbage?”

I picked up the bag and my head began to tingle. The next moment, I was in a bar, dancing with a man with thinning hair who smelled like peas. His paunchy gut bumped into mine.

I swayed on my feet, the room spinning around me, but the man held me upright. It was obvious I’d had too much to drink.

“So when you gonna get this fortune you claim is comin’?” her date asked, sounding skeptical.

“Sooner than I’d dreamed. The answer just dropped out of heaven.”

The vision faded and I was staring into the face of the woman behind the counter, while a tidal wave of pain crashed through my head. “Your fortune’s comin’ soon.”

She laughed. “If that ain’t so? My fortune, you say? I gave up hope of my fortune ever comin’ a long time ago. What are you doin’ going around talkin’ about fortunes?”

I forced a smile, eager to get out of there and take an ibuprofen. “It’s almost Chinese New Year. It’s something they say. Like Happy New Year.”

“You don’t say?” she said in surprise. “Your fortune’s comin’ soon.” She grinned and shimmied her shoulders. “You learn something new every day. Now I feel all cosmopolitan.”

“Thanks.” I stuffed the bag into my purse and hurried out the door. I wasn’t sure what to make of her vision, and although most visions usually had nothing to do with me, this one concerned me since it made me ill. Did her fortune have anything to do with Mason?

The cold air hit me the instant I walked outside and my hair blew into my face, obscuring my vision. I turned in the direction of the truck and ran right into someone. Brushing the hair out of my face, I was frustrated to see I’d stumbled into Kate Simmons.

Crappy doodles.

I took a couple of steps backward as I recovered my balance.

She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “Well, if it isn’t little Rose Gardner.”

I considered trying to make some kind of small talk, but Joe didn’t trust her, which was a good enough reason for me not to trust her either. “Sorry, I wasn’t lookin’ where I was going.”

I tried to step around her, but she blocked my path. “I was hoping I’d run into you in town, although not quite so literally.” She laughed, but a determined look in her eyes told me I wasn’t going anywhere until she deemed our conversation done.

I steeled myself. “Well, here I am. What can I do for you?”

“I think we can be friends,” she said. “I’d like to be friends.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “Well…”

“I know I haven’t put my best foot forward, but I was hoping we could start over. Maybe we could meet for…” She glanced around the square. “What do you all do around here? Meet for moonshine?”

“Or coffee.” She’d just confirmed why this was a terrible idea. “Look, Kate. I’m not sure why you’re here in Henryetta, but if you’re trying to get Joe and me back together, it’s a wasted effort. We are over. I’m with Mason and I love him. I have no plans of leaving him. In fact, we plan on getting married.”

All expression left her face. “So you really
are
engaged.”

I wasn’t sure why I’d added that last part, other than to drive home that she’d hopped onto the wrong bandwagon, but something told me it might not have been the best tactic if I wanted to encourage her to back down. “Not officially. But we’re living together.” What was I doing spilling my personal life to her? “Honestly, Kate. It’s none of your business.”

“Did you talk to Mason about Hilary?”

“And why would I do that?”

She grinned. “You did. You asked him because you had to know. What did he tell you?”

Now I was getting angry. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to cause strife between Mason and me, but it’s not gonna work. I know all about Hilary and Mason in Little Rock.”

“So you know that Hilary wanted Mason Deveraux instead of Joe?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea where you got such ridiculous information, but it’s not true. Besides, you weren’t even around. How would you even know? You were in California.”

Her eyes widened and a wicked smirk spread across her face. “
Was
I?”

“What the Sam Hill are you doin’?” I shook my head in disbelief. “I’m done with all this double talk nonsense.” I pushed past her, my anger spurring me forward, and she didn’t try to stop me this time.

I’d taken several steps when she called after me. “I know things you need to know.”

Against my better judgment, I spun around to face her. “About Mason?” Did she know something about who was trying to kill him?

“Think bigger, baby girl.”

My breath caught. “About your father?”

She waggled her eyebrows. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“So you’re not going to tell me?”

Her eyes twinkled with mischievousness. “Not yet.”

I had no idea what she was talking about and I was done with this game. “Go home, Kate, wherever that really is. Go home and leave me alone.”

She grinned. “I’m not going anywhere yet. When you’re ready—and you’ll know when that is—I’ll fill you in.”

I spun around and hurried away, suddenly wondering whose side Kate was really on.

Obviously not mine.

Neely Kate didn’t look too happy when I got back into the truck.

“Did I see you talkin’ to Kate Simmons?”

“Yes,” I groaned as I tossed my purse on the seat, remembering too late about the brownies.

“I thought you were getting Miss Mildred something from Ima Jean’s.”

“I did. It’s in my purse.”

She pulled it out, holding it between her thumb and index finger. “What in tarnation is this?”

“Miss Mildred’s laxatives.”

She dropped the bag with a screech. “
What?
”

“It’s a long story.”

“Lately it seems like everything with you is a long story.”

I sure as Pete couldn’t argue with that.

I pulled my truck up in front of Violet’s house, the house I’d grown up in, then cast a glance at the tiny house next door. Joe no longer lived there, though, having moved into the farmhouse that bordered the southern edge of my property.

Right now, it was the house across the street that had my interest. Miss Mildred’s house. I decided to approach her with hat in hand—or, more literally, crushed baked goods in hand—and go from there.

“I still think you’re crazy,” Neely Kate grumbled as we walked up to her door. “She’s never gonna tell us anything.”

“Maybe she won’t. Or maybe she’ll give us a lead, unwilling or not, that will point us in the right direction.”

“Or maybe monkeys are gonna start flying out of my butt.”

I put my hands on my hips. “I have to at least try.”

She smirked. “Oh, I’m not trying to stop you. This should be fun to watch.” She held up her phone. “Heck, I plan on recording it.” She grinned. “I’m just tellin’ you how it’s liable to turn out.”

I rolled my eyes. I wanted to protest, but I suspected she was right. I pointed at her hand. “You better not use that phone unless it’s to call 911. One of us might need medical attention after this.”

I knocked on the front door and stepped back. Neely Kate was standing right by the steps to the porch, as if she were ready to take off running if we needed to escape.

Miss Mildred opened the door leaning on a cane, surprise then suspicion flitting through her eyes as she stood in the frame.

“Good afternoon, Miss Mildred,” I said as sweetly as I could muster. I held up the bag, suddenly questioning the wisdom of giving it to her. “I brought you a gift.”

I cast a glance at Neely Kate for support, but she looked down, her shoulders trembling.

She was laughing. Great. But I told myself it was good she was happy for a few seconds, even if it was at my expense.

Miss Mildred was less amused and pointed her cane in my face. “You’ve got three seconds to get off my porch or I’m calling Officer Ernie.”

I held up my hands in a defensive gesture, the crumpled bag hanging from my fingertips. “I’m here in peace.” When she still didn’t take the gift, I set it on the porch railing.

The elderly woman snorted. “What sort of devil’s witchcraft are you up to now?”

I decided a direct approach was the only way I was going to get anywhere. “I’m here because I need some information about a factory that burned down in 1986. I know how diligent you are about keeping an eye on local issues, so I thought you might remember it.”

Neely Kate covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders outright shaking now. I shot her a glare. She had her phone in her hand at waist level, trying—not very well—to hide the fact that she was recording our conversation. I should have left her behind in the truck.

Miss Mildred gave me her own glare. “Why would I tell you anything?”

Crappy doodles, why would she? My peace offering plan was crashing and burning. Then it hit me. Miss Mildred had encouraged me to prove that Miss Dorothy had been murdered. I cocked my head and lifted my eyebrows. “Because I’m solving a mystery.”

She leaned on her cane and shifted her weight. “And why would I care?”

“Because…” I forged on. “Because I think you secretly want to solve one too. That’s why you’re so good as president of the busybody club, uh, I mean the neighborhood watch.”

She hesitated. “What kind of mystery?”

“I think someone was responsible for that fire. I’m trying to figure out who and why.”

“And why would you be trying to figure out a twenty-five-year-old mystery?”

Neely Kate stepped forward. “The reward.”

I looked back at her, my eyes wide.

“What reward?” Miss Mildred asked, her interest unmistakable.

I could see where this was going. My former neighbor was gonna refuse to tell us anything unless we split the nonexistent reward with her, which would certainly put me in a pickle owing to my distinct lack of cash money. “It’s not a monetary reward,” I said, my brain scrambling fast. “It’s like a club… a competition. We get the reward of figuring it out before everyone else does.” Then I hastily added, “And a certificate.”

Her suspicion returned. “I may be old, but I ain’t no fool. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“It’s fairly new. It’s all because of those cold case TV shows,” Neely Kate said. “It’s inspired people to start solving their own cases.”

She squinted at Neely Kate. “What’s the name of this club?”