All Natural Murder (14 page)

As I headed out, the pool water shimmered in the light, a mild breeze making the ripples twinkle like the stars I still occasionally wished upon. Crusher wasn’t hanging around the pool as usual, but he might be resting after his big rally performance last night. Or maybe he’d already packed up and gone home.

I followed the path past the cabins and down the walkway until I reached the vegetable garden. I stopped at a tomato plant and set the basket on the ground. No giant green worms waited for me, thank goodness.

I squeezed a few tomatoes before finding one that wasn’t too firm and snapped it off the vine as Zennia had shown me once upon a time. Three more followed, and I moved to the next plant. As I searched for the ripest tomatoes, I heard voices moving in my direction.

The Steddelbeckers came around the curve and stopped when they saw me.

“You,” Horace said, sending a chill down my back, despite the heat.

I deposited a tomato in the basket and straightened up. “Did you enjoy your shopping?” I asked, though their grimaces already told me the answer.

“I don’t know why you sent us to that godforsaken place. Are you just mean-spirited?” Darlene asked.

Was the gas station gift shop really so bad? I’d thought it’d fit their style—cheap and cheaper. “I suggested Running on Fumes because they have such a good selection of unusual items at low prices. Did something happen?” Had the three-dollar glow-in-the-dark plastic octopus been too much for them?

“I’ll say something happened.” Darlene thumped her wooden cane on the ground. “We were almost killed!”

Almost killed? Had I somehow endangered the Steddelbeckers?

In response to Darlene’s outburst, Horace reached over and covered her hand on the cane with his own. “Don’t get yourself riled up. Remember your heart.”

After a mini wave of panic and a flash of guilt, I had to wonder if they might be exaggerating. They certainly looked fine. “What happened? Did someone rob the store?”

Horace shook his head. “We found ourselves in one of those domestic disputes. You know how they can turn ugly.”

“Who was fighting? Customers?” I asked.

“I don’t know their names,” Horace said. “Some heavyset feller with a bad-looking toupee and some chesty floozy in a tight shirt.”

Was he talking about Donald and Tara?

“What were they fighting about?” I asked, wishing he’d get to the part where they were in actual danger.

“Hollering at each other something fierce,” Horace said. “When we first got there, they were in the back, but we could hear them clear as day. He was shouting about her sleeping around with some other feller who worked there. And she yelled back that he musta killed the guy, hit him with a tailpipe or something.”

Darlene chimed in. “If it weren’t for this here cane, I’d about fell over when she said that.”

Holy cow. Had Tara been sleeping with Bobby Joe? That guy sure got around. First Bobby Joe steals from the business, then he steals Donald’s wife?

“Did they say anything else?” I asked, almost forgetting the sun that beat down on me.

Horace nodded. “You bet. The man said he wished he’d had the chance to kill the guy, but he wouldn’t use a tailpipe. He’d strangle him with his own two hands.”

Hmm . . . that comment implied Donald might not have known about the affair before Bobby Joe died, if there even was an affair. Or else he was bluffing to convince Tara he hadn’t killed Bobby Joe.

Horace and Darlene stared at me, waiting for me to speak.

“And then?” I prompted.

“Isn’t that enough?” Darlene snapped. “Then those two came out from the back, and we hightailed it outta there, ran for our lives.”

I imagined them hobbling toward their car, screaming bloody murder, and had to suppress a smile.

“Something funny, missy?” Horace asked.

I forced a frown. “No, of course not, but I don’t quite see when your lives were in danger.”

“After what we heard?” Darlene said. “We’re lucky that guy didn’t follow us. And here you’re the one who sent us out to that place in the middle of nowhere. Anything could have happened, and no one would ever know.”

“Well, I’m glad you made it back safe,” I said, hoping they wouldn’t whine about their imagined danger all day. “Now, I need to finish collecting these tomatoes for lunch.”

Darlene harrumphed. “At least that’s one food we’ve eaten before.” She tapped her husband’s ankle with her cane. “Come on, Horace. I need to lie down after all that excitement.”

I removed my hat and wiped the sweat off my forehead as they made their way down the path. When they were out of sight, I planted the hat back on my head and finished collecting the tomatoes, all the while wondering if Donald and Tara had really said those things or if Darlene and Horace had misinterpreted what they’d heard. Did Tara really believe her husband had killed Bobby Joe, or had she suggested that to distract him from her possible affair?

As I picked up the basket, it sagged under the weight of the fruit, and I sagged right along with it. Why did the vegetable garden have to be so far from the kitchen? I lugged the basket toward the house, sweat pooling under my arms and trickling down my back.

When I was a few yards from the cabins, Crusher stepped out from his door in a T-shirt, longboard shorts, and Crocs. He gestured toward the basket. “Let me carry that for you.”

I had a two-second internal struggle between proving that girls didn’t always need some burly guy helping them out and dropping the basket right there. My screaming muscles made a good argument, and I let Crusher take the basket from me. I tried to ignore how easily he toted the tomatoes while my fatigued arms hung limply at my sides.

“Were you taking these to the kitchen?” he asked.

“Yes, thanks.” We walked around the side of the cabins and past the pool. “By the way, congrats on the truck rally last night. I missed your big move, but everyone was talking about it.” I didn’t mention that I’d been busy struggling with an over-protective and abusive husband outside a bathroom while spying on Bobby Joe’s mistress. That sounded like a scene from
Days of Our Lives
.

Crusher grinned, and I was reminded once more of how darn charming that smile was. “Sorry you didn’t see the trick. It was unreal. A scout already contacted me this morning about finding a sponsor.”

“Wow. Congratulations. You must be thrilled.”

Crusher flashed his teeth again. “You bet. Last night made my entire future.”

“Does that mean you’re packing up and heading home?” With the rally over, I didn’t see any reason for him to stay.

“Not yet. I’m meeting with the scout this afternoon, and I don’t know if anyone else will be contacting me. Figured I’d stick around for a couple days. Lucky for me, you guys aren’t booked up.”

Esther had probably done a hoedown routine when Crusher extended his stay. I knew most of the guests were leaving today or tomorrow, and she’d need the extra revenue. We reached the back door, and I grabbed the basket handles, my fingers brushing Crusher’s.

“Thanks for the help.”

He held onto the basket for a moment. “No problem. I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I thought we could have dinner tonight.”

My thoughts started spinning like a kid on a merry-go-round. Was he asking me out on a date? Or did he want to have dinner because he didn’t know anyone else in town? Why, oh why, couldn’t Jason and I have a defined relationship? Were we exclusive or not? Was he even still interested in dating me? He’d given me the brush-off on the phone this morning, and things hadn’t exactly ended well at the cafe yesterday.

Crusher watched me, his smile drooping at the corners.

“Um, let me check my schedule,” I said, stalling for time. I already knew I had exactly nothing planned for the night, but I needed a few more minutes.

Crusher let go of the basket and shrugged. “Sure, no biggie. Just an idea.”

“And a good one. I’ll get back to you.” I felt myself blushing as I stepped in and set the basket on the table. When I turned back, Crusher was gone.

I poured myself some lemonade from the pitcher in the fridge and held the glass to my sweaty forehead. God, I was so lame when it came to the dating scene, so unlike Ashlee. Why did I have to overthink everything? Jason and I weren’t married. We weren’t even an official item. If an eligible guy wanted to take me to dinner, then I should go. I wasn’t especially attracted to Crusher, but it still might be fun to have dinner with the guy. I only wished I didn’t feel so guilty.

Zennia entered the kitchen, distracting me from my dilemma.

“Good, you brought the tomatoes. I’m about ready to plate lunch.” She grabbed two tomatoes and rinsed them under the faucet, patting them dry with a towel.

I handed her the next two. “I’ve got some bad news,” I said in a solemn voice.

Zennia paused with her hands under the faucet. “Nothing too serious, I hope.”

“The Steddelbeckers are back early, so they’re bound to be here for lunch.”

“Then I’ll give them an extra helping of this bulgur wheat salad.” Zennia let out a cackle at her own deviousness. She gestured toward the basket. “If you’ll finish rinsing these, then core them, I’ll put the finishing touches on the salad.”

I took her place at the sink as she moved to the fridge and retrieved a Tupperware bowl. I rinsed a tomato. “Has your nephew heard anything about Bobby Joe’s murder?”

Zennia popped the lid off the bowl. “Now, you know my nephew would never share confidential information with me, especially since this isn’t the sheriff department’s case.” She winked at me. “But if he did, he’d tell me that the police are taking a closer look at some guy named Todd.”

I hadn’t even known how tense I was until I heard that. My breath came out in a whoosh. “Thank goodness they’re not focusing on Ashlee.” I grabbed a serrated knife out of the block and jabbed the top of the tomato, twisting the knife to extract the core. “And I don’t mind telling you that I have my own suspicions about Todd.”

Zennia leaned toward me, the smell of vinegar following her. “You didn’t hear this from me, and I didn’t hear this from my nephew, but Todd’s alibi is shaky.”

I gave the knife an extra twist and spattered my shirt with tomato juice as I lost focus. “Get out of here.” I snatched up the dish towel and wiped off my shirt.

Zennia nodded, then put a finger to her lips.

I gave her a two-fingered salute back, then scooped out the insides of the tomato, my mind whirring.

Todd had claimed he was with Maria the night Bobby Joe was murdered. But if the police doubted his alibi, they might focus on Todd and forget about Ashlee. He had as much motive as she did if he knew about the affair, maybe even more. After all, he and Maria were married, and Ashlee and Bobby Joe were only dating. And judging by how hard Todd had shoved me against the wall, he was easily strong enough to crush Bobby Joe’s skull. I practically hummed aloud as these thoughts ran through my head.

My euphoria lasted until I started coring the third tomato. If the police really had evidence linking Todd to the murder, they would have arrested him by now. Was there no evidence because Todd was too careful or because he wasn’t guilty? Could I afford to stop poking around while I waited for the police to make an arrest? They might arrest Ashlee instead, while I sat back and did nothing. I shook my head at this thought.

“Something troubling you?” Zennia asked.

“Only thinking.” I couldn’t stop poking around now. I’d be letting Ashlee down. And Mom. After what Horace and Darlene had told me, I wanted to find out if Tara was really sleeping with Bobby Joe and if Donald knew. I also didn’t know if Bobby Joe was really dealing drugs. Another visit to Stump might be in order. After I stopped by the gas station, of course.

I finished the last tomato, then watched Zennia fill each one. I tried not to wrinkle my nose at the piles of bulgur wheat that spilled onto the plates.

With everything ready, I made sure guests were seated in the dining room, then took the first two plates in. I set them before a brunette in her mid-forties and a silver-haired man two decades older. A few other tables were occupied.

I retrieved two more plates and delivered one to a woman in her thirties whose lunch companion was a steamy romance novel, based on the cover with a long-haired, bare-chested man and a maiden in a corset. The woman was so engrossed in her book that she barely acknowledged me. I took the other plate to Crusher.

“Check that schedule of yours yet?” he asked, draping one arm over his chair and stretching out his long legs.

I hadn’t decided about the date, so I took the easy way out. “Looks like I have to work.”

Crusher crossed one ankle over the other. “All night?”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the easy way.

“We could always meet for coffee after your shift ends,” Crusher said, offering me that slow smile of his.

Coffee sounded harmless. You never saw long tapered candles and white linen tablecloths at a coffeehouse. And he couldn’t exactly whisper sweet nothings in my ear while the espresso maker hissed and shrieked.

I felt like smacking my forehead as a thought popped up. I shouldn’t be looking at this as a date. I should be looking at this as an opportunity to find out more about how well Crusher knew Bobby Joe and where he was the night Bobby Joe was killed.

“That might work,” I said. “I should be done here by seven.”

“Great. I’ll meet you in the lobby then. We’ll grab some coffee and maybe watch the fireworks later.”

Without answering, I went to retrieve more plates. The guy was smooth, I had to admit. He’d downplayed the evening by switching from dinner to coffee, then managed to ratchet it back up by throwing in the fireworks. I’d already imagined watching the fireworks with Jason, snuggling up on a picnic blanket, but I needed to adjust that picture, considering we weren’t getting along right now. And stretching out the evening would give me extra time to ask about Bobby Joe.

I delivered the rest of the meals, then helped myself to a plain tomato in the kitchen, wishing I had some tuna salad or seasoned bread crumbs to stuff it with. I kept trying to build up the courage to sample more of Zennia’s creations, but that bulgur wheat salad could stay right where it was in that Tupperware bowl.

Once the guests finished their meals, I cleared the tables and stopped in the office to update my time sheet before I took my lunch break.

I waved to Gordon on my way through the lobby, and he scowled in return. You had to love the guy’s consistency.

But he could scowl all he wanted. I had things to do.