All Natural Murder (19 page)

“If that ever happens,” Ashlee said in a quiet voice. “Guess I should get going.”

I watched her walk toward her car, shoulders hunched. “But what about your shake?” I asked.

Ashlee opened her car door. “I’ll throw together a sandwich at home. I need to save my money anyway.”

I gaped at her. Ashlee’s philosophy was to burn through money faster than a Duraflame log. The rumors were definitely affecting her.

She got in her car and peeled out, leaving the smell of burning rubber hanging in the already stifling air. I returned to my work, wishing I’d never witnessed those women being mean to her, but at the same time, I was glad I was reminded of what my sister was dealing with.

The one bright spot was that two people had now mentioned Todd’s flimsy alibi. The police must be close to arresting him.

I had my fingers crossed.

I dragged my paint supplies down the sidewalk to Don’t Dilly-Dahlia, the flower shop, and set to work on the third window. I used the stencils where I could and freehanded the rest. Occasional passersby would comment or even snicker, but I focused on my work, more interested in finishing up and getting out of this heat than defending my lack of artistry.

After what felt like a week but was probably no more than two hours, I finished the last window and put the lids back on the paint cans. My back ached, and my wrist was sore. I loaded the cans, brushes, and stencils into the trunk and went back for the drop cloth. As I rolled the material into a ball, I heard a car pull into the slot before me. I recognized Jason’s Volvo and tightened my grip on the cloth, remembering last night’s fireworks.

He stepped out, dressed in a blue dress shirt and Dockers, and looked past me at my recent handiwork. “Do these store owners know you vandalized their windows?” he asked with a smile that could melt my insides. And unlike when I talked to Crusher, I knew Jason’s smile was sincere.

I held up the cloth. “That’s why I’m making a run for it before they realize what happened.”

He pointed a couple stores down. “I might need to make a citizen’s arrest based on your drawing of an albino alligator over there.”

“It’s a cat,” I said, not able to keep all the exasperation out of my voice. I forced a softer tone. “I saw you at the fireworks last night, but you left before I had a chance to say hi.”

Jason stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Had to get the story ready for last night’s printing. You were busy anyway. Didn’t want to interrupt.” His tone was flat, providing no insight to his emotions.

“I agreed to meet Crusher for coffee so I could ask him questions about Bobby Joe. Then all the people were headed to the fireworks. It’s been years since I’ve seen them, and Crusher was interested, and they were starting any minute . . .” My voice trailed off.

He poked at the sidewalk with one loafer. “Sure, I get it.”

“Really, I did talk to Crusher about Bobby Joe, but he didn’t have much to add. How about you? Any news on the murder?” Jason might think the question was my attempt to change the subject, and it partly was, but after seeing Ashlee turn tail and run home a few minutes ago, I was really hoping the police had made a breakthrough.

Jason stepped aside to let a woman and her toddler pass, then moved back into the shade. “That’s why I stopped by when I saw you out here painting. To fill you in on the latest. I know it’s been worrying you.”

I put a hand on his arm. “Then the police have found something?”

“Donald is apparently in danger of losing his business. He took out a new mortgage a few years ago to carry him through the recession, but he’s missed several payments.”

“I’ve heard rumors Bobby Joe was stealing, but I can’t imagine he was taking so much that Donald would kill him.”

Jason shrugged. “Hard to say what sets people off. Otherwise, the detectives are verifying alibis and trying to track down witnesses. Somebody mentioned overhearing Bobby Joe arguing that night at the fairgrounds.”

“Think they were talking about Ashlee when she was yelling at Bobby Joe?”

“No, this was later. But the witness only heard Bobby Joe, not anyone else, so he might have been on the phone. The cops are pulling his records.”

“That’s a pretty slim clue. But I might have a clue of my own.” I set the drop cloth back on the ground, not wanting Jason to think a barrier, physical or otherwise, existed between us. “I heard a rumor that Maria lied about Todd being with her the night of the murder.”

A notebook and pen appeared in Jason’s hand so fast that I wondered if he’d been holding them the whole time. “How reliable is the source of this rumor?”

I’d use a lot of words to describe Kimmie, but reliable wasn’t one of them. “Maria herself hinted at it when I was eavesdrop . . . I mean painting.”

Jason smiled but didn’t comment on my little slip-up. “A scorned husband is always a good choice for a killer.” He flipped his notebook closed. “I gotta run, but we should definitely get together soon. I don’t want you having any more coffee with the out-of-towners, even if it is to gather information.”

Hang on a second. Was Jason jealous? “I’ve been trying to cut back on my caffeine anyway.”

“Even if I were to ask you to the Daily Grind some time?”

I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, wishing I wasn’t so sweaty from painting. “For you, I’d make an exception.”

He kissed me on the cheek, then got back in his car and drove off.

I automatically touched the spot where his lips had been. Maybe our relationship was more solid than I realized.

I picked up the drop cloth and stuck it in my trunk on top of the paint cans. Time for lunch. After all that work, I deserved a high-calorie treat.

Once in the car, I saw that it was already after one. No wonder I was hungry. I drove to the other end of town, down by the gas stations and fast-food restaurants. The line at McDonald’s was shortest, so I pulled up behind a silver Cadillac sedan with tinted windows.

The driver motored up to the pickup window while I yelled my order for a salad and an ice-cold McFlurry at the speaker, then followed the Cadillac. As I watched, a clerk handed a stuffed bag to the driver. A moment later, another bag appeared at the window and disappeared into the car. When the third bag came out, the clerk released it too soon, and the bag dropped to the pavement.

The driver opened his door and bent down to retrieve the bag. A jolt ran through me as I recognized Stump and realized I hadn’t included him in my list of suspects. If Bobby Joe hadn’t approved of Stump’s profession— and I was using the term “profession” loosely—Stump might have removed his roommate from the picture so he didn’t interfere with future sales. No one would do business with a dealer whose roommate might turn into a snitch. And clearly business was good if he could afford such a fancy car, although he must not have used any of his profits to decorate his apartment. Maybe he didn’t want to tip off his parents.

Stump threw the bag into the passenger seat and pulled away. I had a momentary urge to bypass the takeout window and follow him, but wasn’t sure what I’d accomplish. I already knew where he lived. I was almost positive he was dealing drugs. What could I possibly gain by stalking him?

My stomach rumbled so loud, I could hear it over my car engine, making my decision for me. I retrieved my food and drove home, aiming my air-conditioning vent at the McFlurry to keep it in a semi-solid state before I devoured it.

The driveway was empty, Ashlee already gone. I entered the house, clutching my salad and dessert, and set my meal on the kitchen table. As I sat down, I spotted Mom through the sliding-glass door, filling the bird feeders at the picnic table.

I stuck the McFlurry in the freezer, grabbed a real fork from the silverware drawer, and carried my salad outside.

Mom glanced up from the bag of regular seed. “Dana, I didn’t expect you home for lunch.”

“Esther gave me a project in town, so I figured I’d grab a bite before I head back.”

Mom eyed my takeout container. “At least you got a salad. But watch that sodium.”

I speared a piece of chicken. “I promise to drink five glasses of water when I’m finished eating to dilute all that salt.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Neither did I, but no way was I throwing out this salad with its yummy cheese and crispy tortilla strips.

Mom finished filling the copper feeder shaped like a parachute and rolled the top of the seed bag down. Her tone grew serious. “Your sister came home awhile ago.”

“Yeah, I saw her downtown earlier. A couple of women were whispering about her and Bobby Joe.”

Grabbing the sack of finch food, Mom angrily tore at the top. “Sometimes I can’t stand the small-minded people in this town. Why, yesterday at the grocery store, I could hear the clerks talking about Ashlee, and with me standing right there. They know full well I’m her mother.”

“I had no idea people were gossiping so much.” Though I should have known better.

Mom wrenched the bag the rest of the way open, spilling thistle seeds onto the patio. “That’s why the police need to solve Bobby Joe’s death. And from what I’ve heard through the grapevine, that’s not going to happen anytime soon.” She pressed the open bag to the lip of the finch tube and poured, the seeds pattering to the bottom like drops of spring rain. “How about you? Are you having better luck?”

“I’ve almost convinced myself that Todd killed Bobby Joe when he found out about the affair with Maria.”

“Who’s Todd?”

Guess I hadn’t been keeping Mom up-to-date on my discoveries. “Todd Runyon. He’s married to Maria, the same girl Bobby Joe cheated on Ashlee with.”

Mom set the finch food down. “Runyon. Why does that name sound familiar?” She slapped the bag top. “He was a few years ahead of you in school. I knew his mom from the PTA. He was quite the troublemaker. The principal used to suspend him for fighting. Barely managed to graduate, and then he got a job at the steel factory. I think his father had to pull some strings.”

He’d gone from hitting other students to hitting his wife. Great. “All I have are suspicions. Nothing I can take to the police. I need evidence.”

“Then you really need to find some, Dana,” Mom said, an edge to her voice.

Didn’t she realize I was doing the best I could, even at the risk of my job? I made a show of looking at the patio surface around the picnic table. “None over here.” I looked toward the lawn. “Or over there. Guess evidence isn’t just lying around for people to trip over.”

Mom screwed the top on the finch tube and rubbed her temple. “I know you’re trying to help, but I’m so worried about Ashlee. The longer this goes on, the more likely her reputation will be permanently ruined. Ours, too.”

Mom hung the feeder up on the hook and dusted off her hands. “What do you know so far about Todd? Anything that would help you find evidence?”

I shook my head. “I know practically nothing, only that he has a bad temper. Maria’s mom, Rosa, works for Kimmie and told her that Todd abuses Maria.”

Mom put a hand to her mouth. “Oh my, he doesn’t sound like a very nice man.”

“No. And anyone who would beat his wife would probably kill someone who was sleeping with her. It’s all part of that possessiveness and jealousy you hear about. But I really need to find out more about him.”

“You know what you should do,” Mom said. She grabbed the broom that was leaning against a wood beam of the gazebo.

For a moment, I thought she was going to instruct me to sweep the patio, like some kind of Karate Kid learning exercise. But she just leaned on the handle.

“Look up that Web site my shows are always talking about. Facebook, isn’t it? Apparently people are always getting in trouble with that. Girls put up naked pictures of themselves, or people talk about how they’re playing hooky at the beach when they’re supposed to be at work, then they can’t figure out why they got fired. Maybe Todd’s put something on there that could help you.”

Had it come to this? Was my mom giving me tips on using social networking sites? “I doubt he confessed to the murder on his wall, but it’s worth a look,” I said. “As long as his profile’s public.”

Mom gave me a blank look. “I have no idea what you just said, but it sounds like I helped.”

I gathered up my salad remnants and stood, leaning forward to kiss Mom on the cheek. “You did. Thanks, and sorry I sassed you earlier. I need to get back to work now, but I’ll try to find out more at my afternoon break.”

“Good, and then you can pass anything you find on to the police. I don’t want you talking to this man yourself. He sounds too dangerous.”

I was now double-glad I’d never told Mom about my altercation with Todd at the truck rally. She would have grounded me on the spot, which would have been highly embarrassing at my age.

I returned to the house, dumped my trash in the can, and got back in my car, not bothering with my McFlurry still in the freezer. I rolled down the windows to flush out the stifling air and hummed to myself as I drove back to work, excited about my new research project.

Only three cars sat in the parking lot. I’d have to check with Esther on how reservations looked for the next couple of weeks. She was functioning on a tight budget as it was, and she always worried about being able to keep the farm open.

Gordon wasn’t at his usual post behind the front desk, and my step instantly lightened. I didn’t have any pressing work this afternoon. Was five minutes after I finished my lunch break too soon to take my afternoon break? I could slip into the office right now and see if Todd had a profile on Facebook.

As I hurried down the hall, a figure appeared in the kitchen doorway at the other end. Gordon. I tried to keep the guilty look off my face, since I hadn’t actually done anything wrong, but Gordon’s gaze picked up my expression.

“Finally back to work, I see,” he commented, pulling at his lapels.

Like a light switched from off to on, my feelings switched from guilt to anger. “Yep. All done painting the downtown windows, like Esther asked. I’m sure she told you about that.”

Gordon sneered. “Another Rejuvenation Committee idea that will go nowhere. That group should give up.”

“Yoo hoo, Dana,” a voice that could only belong to Esther called behind me. Sure enough, Esther trotted down the hall. As she approached, I noticed she wore one navy blue and one black shoe. Sometimes I wondered what she’d do if she had to run the farm without Gordon, much as he annoyed me.

Esther stopped before me, slightly out of breath. “Dana, I’m glad I caught you. I’ve been getting so many calls about your window paintings.”

Uh-oh. I knew the paintings weren’t great, but I hadn’t expected the complaints to start so soon. “Esther, I can explain,” I started, but she cut me off.