All Natural Murder (23 page)

After dinner, I cleared the table and washed the dishes, then settled in the living room for some mind-numbing television. Ashlee joined me, and we listened to the latest celebrity gossip, though I didn’t recognize half the so-called celebrities. When a commercial came on, I muted the sound.

“Wait,” Ashlee said, “what’s that movie they’re advertising?”

“They’ll show the ad again. I want to talk to you about Mom.”

Ashlee’s expression grew serious. “What about her? Is something wrong?”

Good question. That’s what I was hoping to find out. “I was wondering if she’d mentioned this Lane guy to you. The one who’s in bunco.”

“You mean about how he asked her on a date?”

My neck felt stiff as I nodded. “That’s the one. What do you think about that?” I’d given Mom my blessing, but the idea still made me uneasy.

I expected a wise crack or some flippant remark, but Ashlee surprised me.

“When she first mentioned it, I was really upset,” she said. “I mean, how could she possibly betray Dad like that?”

I leaned forward, my head bobbing freely this time. “My thoughts exactly. I mean, if you love someone for that many years, how can you possibly think about dating someone else?”

Ashlee studied the picture of Dad on the mantel. “But then I got to thinking about how much I like dating. I mean, I know I’m not going to marry any of these guys, but it’s fun to get out, have someone to do things with. So I asked myself if Mom would be better off sitting at home moping or spending time at the movies or dinner, even if it is with some guy. The most important thing to me is that Mom’s happy.”

I stared at Ashlee like we’d never met. When had my sister gotten so smart?

“Wow,” I said. “I was so worried about Dad’s memory that I forgot to think about Mom. She deserves to be happy.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder and jerked my head around. I hadn’t heard Mom come in the room.

“Thank goodness you girls feel that way. Now I can enjoy my dinner with Lane without feeling guilty.”

I rose from the recliner and hugged her. “Please do. I’m sure he’s a great guy.”

Mom returned my hug, then settled on the couch while I sat back down. With my mind clear, my thoughts immediately turned back to Bobby Joe’s death. I felt an underlying sense of panic since I’d removed Todd from my suspect list. Was I any closer to solving the murder with this new information about Donald and Stump, or was I merely grasping at straws?

This question plagued me all evening, even as I got ready for bed, turned out the lights, and got under the covers. And it continued to plague me long into the night.

Even though I forgot to set my alarm and woke up an hour late, I still tried to see the next morning as a fresh start, a new day with which to come up with different angles to investigate Bobby Joe’s murder. That optimism lasted until I arrived at work.

Gordon paced the sidewalk in front of the lobby entrance, glancing at his watch. When he saw my car approaching, he stopped pacing and tapped his foot until I’d parked and stepped onto the curb.

“Morning, Gordon,” I said in a neutral voice, never mind my trembling nerves.

He looked at his watch again, even though he’d checked it fifteen seconds ago. Must have a memory like a goldfish. “You’re late.”

“Is that possible? We don’t have set working hours.”

Gordon shook his head. “But you’re normally here at seven. Consistency is what makes an employee dependable. Lately, you’ve been less than dependable.”

I started to rebut his accusation, but he talked right over me.

“You left early yesterday, you’ve been taking long lunches, and this isn’t the first morning you’ve been late. You haven’t been doing your job.”

“I always do my job,” I snapped, managing to squeeze the words in when he paused for breath.

“Then where are the marketing numbers Esther said you’d give me?”

Crap. I’d forgotten to pass the numbers along to Gordon, like I’d forgotten when he’d asked about those demographics. “I finished the research but didn’t have a chance to give you the results yet,” I answered with false dignity.

“You could have gotten me the numbers yesterday if you hadn’t left early.”

I felt my anger brewing. I’d had plenty to deal with this past week. The least Gordon could do was show me some compassion. “My sister’s boyfriend was murdered, in case you forgot. I’m trying to find out who killed him before the police arrest her.”

“And I’m trying to run a successful farm and spa. I warned you before not to let your sister’s problems get in the way. If you can’t do your job, then I’ll speak to Esther about your taking a leave of absence. As it is, we barely have enough work for you.”

I stared at Gordon, my entire body quivering. Did this guy not care that my sister was a suspect in a murder investigation? Did his tunnel vision really allow him to see only what related to the spa?

“Of course I can do my job. You need to be more understanding.”

Gordon gestured toward the house behind him. “Being understanding won’t keep this place in business.” With that, he turned and strode back into the lobby.

I stood on the sidewalk for a moment to gather my wits, which were scattered all over the cement. I definitely hadn’t been putting one hundred percent into my work, but Ashlee was involved in a murder, and that took precedence over a daily blog and chasing ducks. How could I focus on my job when the police were targeting her?

Then again, Esther wasn’t paying me to do mediocre work. Considering how much I needed this job, I couldn’t afford to slack off any more.

I headed for the lobby, bracing myself for another encounter with Gordon, but the room was empty. Maybe he was bothering Zennia, counting the blueberries in everyone’s oatmeal to make sure she was being frugal.

I slipped into the office, shut the door, and flopped into the desk chair. After a one-minute pity party, I printed the figures and set them aside for Gordon. If only I’d done this simple step yesterday, I could have saved myself a lot of aggravation.

Today’s blog might as well be about trying to handle too much at once and balancing priorities. I dashed off a few paragraphs, reread the blog for typos and accuracy, and posted it.

As I spun around in the chair to celebrate another blog finished, the office door opened, and I momentarily saw Esther’s face before I spun toward the bookcase, then the back wall, then the file cabinet, and then the desk again.

I grabbed the desk edge to stop another rotation. “Esther, I finished the blog and well, never mind.” She obviously had something on her mind and wasn’t interested in my chatter.

Esther clasped her hands before her, fiddling with the cow button on her denim shirt with the embroidered barn scene. Her mouth opened and closed three times before she croaked out, “Honeybunch, we need to talk.”

Oh, no, not that overused line. She couldn’t be breaking up with me, so she must be about to fire me. No more help for Mom’s bills, no more socking away a few dollars here and there for the day I’d eventually move into my own place again, no more teasing Zennia about her healthy eating or feeling like I was helping Esther launch her business.

“Esther, before you start, I know I haven’t been the best employee lately, but as soon as the police figure out who killed Bobby Joe, I’ll be back to normal, honest.” I bit my lip and waited for her response.

She looked at a spot over my head. “You know I love your work, but Gordon came upstairs a few minutes ago and told me you’ve been missing assignments and leaving early.”

“I’ve kept a strict record of my hours.”

Esther waved her hand. “I’m not worried about that. You’re more honest than Abe Lincoln. But your heart’s not in it. How can you possibly concentrate with everything that’s going on with your sister?”

I held onto the edge of the desk. I felt queasy, and I wasn’t sure if it was from spinning in the desk chair or the direction this conversation was taking. “I’ll admit I’ve been distracted, but I’d like to think I’m still doing a decent job here.”

Esther sank into the guest chair and pressed her lips together. “Gordon has suggested I find a replacement until your personal life calms down.”

Oh, God, she was really going to fire me. Finding a temporary replacement was the first step in my permanent departure. “You don’t need to do that. By the time you find someone, this whole situation will be taken care of.”

Esther touched my knee in a maternal gesture. “I’d like to believe that. Let’s sit on this for a couple of days. If nothing’s changed, we’ll talk again.”

Two days. Not much time. If the police hadn’t made progress in the last five days, would two more make a difference? But two days was better than never filling out my time card again.

“Deal,” I said.

We stood at the same time, and Esther gave me a quick hug. “I know Gordon can be difficult at times, but he loves this farm almost as much as I do.”

“I’ve posted my blog and printed those numbers you wanted me to run by Gordon. What’s next?” I asked, eager to prove my value.

Esther studied me a moment. “Today’s Tuesday. You always fill in for Heather on her day off.”

So much for my increased attention to my job. “Of course. I meant anything before I start that,” I fibbed.

The wrinkles in Esther’s face smoothed out as she bought my lie. Her trusting nature made me feel guilty for deceiving her, but I wasn’t ready to give up my position here.

“I can’t think of anything right off. More businesses have asked if you can paint their windows, but we’ll wait until this weather cools off.”

Man, I hoped they’d forget all about my painting by that time. Sooner or later, someone would realize that what they thought was artistic brilliance was really lack of skill.

“I’ll get started on the rooms.” I stepped into the hall and turned into the laundry room next door. The cleaning supplies and fresh towels sat prepped and ready. I wheeled the cart out the door and across the hall to the French doors.

As I crossed the patio, the wheels bounced along the cement, kicking a small pebble into the pool. The smooth surface broke apart as ripples ran through the water. Yet another example of one tiny disturbance causing major waves. But clearly murder was no small disturbance.

I abandoned the cart by the cabins and made my way to the pigsty. Wilbur looked up expectantly, probably hoping I’d have a treat for him.

“Sorry, only me.” I leaned on the rail. “Turns out Gordon’s right. I am doing a bad job these days.”

Wilbur nosed at the mud and grunted.

“It’s just that I have to solve this murder. Ashlee’s freedom depends on it.” I slapped my hand on the rail. “Am I ever going to figure this thing out?”

Wilbur snorted several times in a row. I’d almost swear he was laughing.

I pointed a finger at him. “If you’re not going to take this seriously, I’ll go talk to Berta.” Sure, Berta had pecked my hand the few times I’d collected her eggs, but that proved she was a no-nonsense chicken.

Wilbur lowered his head as if embarrassed by his behavior, but I was the one who should have been embarrassed. I was getting mad at a pig, for pete’s sake.

“Sorry, I’m on edge. Guess I should get back to work.”

I returned to the cart and grabbed a dust rag. The first three cabins were vacant and still clean from Heather’s work the previous day. I ran a cloth over the surfaces, did a quick vacuum, and moved on. The next room belonged to Crusher. My mood perked up when I saw he wasn’t there.

I hurriedly cleaned the bathroom, stripped the sheets and threw on new ones, then plumped up the pillows and straightened the items on the coffee table. I was spritzing a burst of homemade lavender water into the air when the cabin door opened and Crusher walked in. So much for avoiding that first awkward meeting after our non-date.

As always, he looked relaxed in his jeans and T-shirt with a surfboard on the front.

I gathered up my cleaning bottles and dust rags. “I’ll be out of here in a sec.”

“No rush. I always like to see you.”

I wasn’t sure whether I should take that as a romantic or platonic remark, so I ignored it. “What have you been up to?”

He moved into the room. “I met with my scout again yesterday. He videotaped me performing my trick to show to possible sponsors, even interviewed me to make it like a promo.” He grabbed his laptop off the dresser. “You should watch it. It’s wicked.”

Gordon picked that moment to walk by the open door and peer in. His usual frown deepened when he saw me talking to Crusher, but he kept walking.

“I need to finish the rest of the rooms. Maybe another time.” I darted to the door, clutching my supplies.

“Have I done something?” Crusher called as I flew over the threshold and reloaded the cart.

I slipped the air freshener into a vacant slot and glanced around to make sure Gordon wasn’t lurking nearby. I spotted him down at the end of the row, and I turned toward Crusher, who had moved to the doorway.

“It’s not you. I got reamed by my boss this morning.” Well, technically my boss’s right-hand man, but same difference. “I need to focus on my work or else I might be replaced.”

Crusher scratched his head. “I had no idea. You could always stop by at lunch to watch the video. I really think you’ll like it.”

Would I even take a lunch break after this morning’s lecture? Should I work through my meals to prove my dedication? If I did take a break, it would be to track down Maria and ask about her alibi, not to watch Crusher’s video.

“No guarantees, but I’ll try to stop by later today,” I said.

“Awesome. I should be around.”

I pushed the cart forward a few feet and stopped at the next door. Darlene and Horace were out, probably hiding in embarrassment at the state of their room. Wrinkled socks and underwear were scattered across the sofa, empty Styrofoam coffee cups occupied every surface, and chocolate from half-eaten candy bars oozed onto the wooden dresser top. I straightened up as best I could without manhandling too many of their personal items. I chose to ignore the clear plastic makeup bag full of the spa’s little shampoo and conditioner bottles as I wiped down the counters in the bathroom.

Chores completed, I took one more look at the room and cringed. Even after tidying up, the space was far too cluttered. But Horace and Darlene seemed the type to complain if I threw away anything not already in a trash can. Maybe they were planning to stick those Styrofoam cups in their suitcase for a new set of free drinkware. I shrugged at the half-finished room and left, pulling the door closed behind me.

As I stepped behind the cleaning cart, Darlene and Horace came around the corner, Darlene’s wooden cane tapping on the cement path. I pushed the cart to the next door, grabbed a handful of cleaners, and hurried inside before they could ask for more toiletries.

I managed to clean the room without interruption and finish up the remaining cabins. I returned the cart to the laundry room and went into the kitchen to see if Zennia needed help prepping lunch.

She sat at the table, sipping a green substance that smelled suspiciously like seaweed and nibbling on a brown square that looked like a muddy hay cake. She set her teacup on its saucer. “Dana, what have you been up to lately?”

Trying to solve a murder, worrying about keeping my job, avoiding the Steddelbeckers. “Too much to relate. But my schedule is open now, and I’m free to help you with lunch.”

Zennia sipped her mystery brew again. “As you can see, I’m not exactly swamped. With only three guests, I figured I’d make okra and lima bean vindaloo for lunch.”

I suppressed a shudder. “Sounds interesting.”

She chuckled. “You’re always so diplomatic.”

“I try.” I poured myself a glass of lemonade and sat down across from her. “Any updates from your nephew?”

Zennia shook her head. “He was passing along most things he heard from the police department, but he’s been real hush-hush lately.”

“Why’s that, do you think?”

She brushed at the front of her tie-dyed dress, where bits of hay had gathered. “When he gets quiet like that, it means they’re about to make an arrest.”

The gulp of lemonade I’d swallowed shot back up as fear threatened to close off my throat.

I only knew of one person they could be planning to arrest.

Ashlee.