All Natural Murder (7 page)

“You all don’t serve none of that new-agey tofu nonsense, do you? I’m a meat and potatoes gal.”

Uh-oh. “All the food is healthy, organic, and absolutely delicious,” I said. I’d better make sure I was nowhere near the dining room when the Steddelbeckers were eating. Darlene might hit me with her cane.

“Let me show you the patio area and pool.” I held one of the French doors open for them.

“I don’t swim, and the missus has got a bad knee,” Horace said, struggling with his grip on the two duffel bags.

I led them across the patio. “What brings you to the O’Connell Organic Farm and Spa?” I asked. It surely wasn’t the healthy cuisine or acres of hiking trails.

Darlene smacked a chaise longue with her cane. “My damn fool daughter-in-law set all this up. She hates us.”

“If she hates you, why is she sending you on vacation?” I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

“To get us out of her hair, for starters,” Darlene said.

Exactly what I was thinking.

“Plus we heard someone died here a couple months back,” Horace added. “I bet Susan is hoping we’re next.”

He might be on to something there. “The killer’s in jail. The spa is perfectly safe.” I didn’t mention that Bobby Joe had been murdered the previous night. He hadn’t died at the spa, so it didn’t count for the purposes of this conversation.

I unlocked the door to cabin five and handed the key to Darlene. She stepped inside the room and sniffed.

“Needs airing out.” She whacked her cane on the bed. “No dust, that’s good.”

Thank goodness Esther had freshened all the rooms in anticipation of the guests. “Did you consider giving your vacation to one of your friends?” If they had any friends.

Darlene snorted. “We had no choice but to come here. If Susan found out we didn’t use her gift, she’d never let us see those grandkids again.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time. Please let me know if you need anything.”

“You can bet we’ll need extra soap and shampoo. The missus and I pride ourselves on cleanliness,” Horace said.

I knew they really wanted a stash of the boxes and bottles to take home, but an extra shampoo or two wouldn’t push Esther into bankruptcy. “I’ll bring more in a bit.”

I backed out before they could ask for extra towels and robes because they prided themselves on staying dry and went to retrieve the shampoo.

The rest of the afternoon flew by in a whirl of check-ins and odd jobs. With the helium tank I’d rented, I blew up the red, white, and blue balloons and tied them to the patio beams, some bushes near the front door, and all along the fence railings for the pigsty and chicken coop. That done, I hung up the H
APPY
F
OURTH
OF
J
ULY
banners and stuck extra flags in the dirt around the cabins and vegetable garden.

I’d forgotten to grab lunch on the way back from the gas station and, after all that work, broke down and tried Zennia’s natto. It wasn’t half bad if you held your nose while you chewed and washed it down with plenty of water.

When five o’clock rolled around, I stopped long enough to update my time sheet before hopping in my car. The drive home was busier than usual, as weekenders made their way to the Pacific. I got trapped behind a pickup hauling a boat until I could make my escape from the freeway.

As I swung a U and pulled up to the curb in front of the house, I took a moment to lean back in my seat, savoring the momentary silence.

My peripheral vision picked up movement, and I glanced through the passenger window.

Ashlee came barreling down the front steps, her black tank top and yellow shorts making her look like an angry bee. She flew across the lawn and around the car, wrenching my driver’s-side door open.

“Dana, I need your help,” she buzzed in my ear.

What had happened now?

I made a shooing motion for Ashlee to back up, climbed out of the car, and slammed the door shut. “What do you need my help with?” I tried to keep my voice patient, but I’d spent several hours investigating Bobby Joe’s murder when I should have been working my regular job, and I wasn’t sure I could deal with any more of Ashlee’s drama tonight.

“My iPod.”

“I don’t know anything about programming your iPod.”

She waved her arm, almost smacking me in her fervor. “I know that. I need it back.”

A missing iPod was not exactly a reason to panic. “What are you telling me for? I don’t have it.”

Ashlee rolled her eyes. “I know you don’t.”

At least I wasn’t being blamed for anything. “Where do I fit in?” Hopefully nowhere, but I knew better.

Ashlee glanced around at the neighboring houses, then grabbed my hand. I let her drag me up the driveway, curious as to how a missing gadget could cause such theatrics.

When we reached the porch, she dropped my hand. “I need you to get it. I left it at Bobby Joe’s place.”

That was the big emergency? Retrieving her iPod from Bobby Joe’s apartment? “Go over there yourself.”

“Are you crazy?” she shrieked, apparently forgetting about any eavesdropping neighbors. “What if the police find out? They’ll think I’m taking stuff away, hiding evidence.”

I almost snapped at her to stop being such a drama queen, but then I had to wonder. Were the police watching Bobby Joe’s apartment? Would they consider it tampering with evidence if they caught Ashlee picking up her iPod? Of course, the police would be just as suspicious if they caught me in that apartment as they would be if it were Ashlee.

“The police aren’t going to be happy if either one of us stops by Bobby Joe’s place. I think you need to say good-bye to your iPod.”

I skirted past her and went into the living room. The room was dark, and the TV was off, giving the illusion of a cool sanctuary. I sank into the balding corduroy recliner that had been my dad’s favorite chair and pulled up the footrest, kicking off my sandals.

Ashlee followed me in, standing right by the chair. “Dana, I really need that iPod back.”

“What for? You have an iPhone. Doesn’t that do all the same things?”

“You don’t get it. I need the iPod back because of what’s on it.”

I saw that Ashlee’s cheeks were flaming. What could cause her so much embarrassment?

“Oh my God, tell me you didn’t take naked pictures of yourself.”

Ashlee’s head jerked up. “I’m not a slut.” Then her eyes dropped. “I’m wearing stuff in the photos, only not much.”

“Ashlee, what were you thinking?” I’d always thought She was way too confident and streetwise to put herself in such a position.

“The pictures were supposed to be artistic. I’m covered up with flowers and leaves, like some sort of wild nature thing. I did it for Bobby Joe’s birthday, but I hadn’t worked up the nerve to actually send them to him yet. That’s why you need to get my iPod back.”

Ashlee was using her best begging face, the one that made men crumble at any hint of a tear, but I wasn’t getting stuck doing her errands. I was spending enough time trying to clear her from a murder charge.

I grabbed the TV remote and pushed the P
OWER
button. “You’ll need to go yourself. You can dress all in black and linger in the shadows until no one is around. You could even paint those black streaks under your eyes, like in the movies.” I was only teasing, but I could see Ashlee’s temper getting ready to strike.

She slapped the arm of the recliner. “Don’t be stupid. Besides, I don’t have a key, and Bobby Joe’s roommate would have to let me in. He might tell some of his stupid friends, and then everyone in town would know I was there.”

I hit the lever and folded the footstool back down. “Bobby Joe has a roommate?” Maybe a little trip over to his place wasn’t such a bad idea. He might be my best shot at getting good intel on Bobby Joe, since Ashlee wasn’t much help. And surely the police wouldn’t object to Ashlee retrieving her own property. It wasn’t connected to Bobby Joe’s murder.

“Stump’s a total loser,” she said.

“Bobby Joe’s roommate is named Stump?”

Ashlee nodded. “Totally fits him, too. He doesn’t have a job and just sits and smokes weed all day.”

Well, good. If he was home all day, he and Bobby Joe probably spent a lot of time together. Maybe he could tell me what had gotten Donald so upset at Running on Fumes.

“What else can you tell me about him? Any chance he and Bobby Joe didn’t get along?”

Ashlee studied her hair for split ends. “I only saw him the few times Bobby Joe stopped by his apartment for stuff. We never hung around the apartment because of the smell. But I do know they didn’t really get along.”

Fantastic. Stump might tell me all sorts of things about his dead roommate.

“Tell you what. I’ll go to the apartment and get your precious iPod.”

Ashlee immediately jumped up and down and clapped her hands. Was she five or twenty-five? Sometimes it was hard to tell.

“But you have to ride along with me,” I added. I didn’t even know exactly where Bobby Joe lived. Besides, if I had to go out again in this heat, so did she.

Ashlee stopped clapping. And jumping. “What am I supposed to do while you’re inside?”

I stood and slipped on my sandals. “Bring your phone. You can surf the Web.”

“But it’s hot outside.”

“Roll down a window.”

“What if someone sees me?”

I reached down to adjust one strap that had hooked on a toe. “For heaven’s sake, people have more interesting things to do than look inside parked cars all day. No one will even notice you.”

Ashlee crossed her arms. “Fine. Let’s go.”

I listened to the clink of glasses and clatter of pots coming from the direction of the kitchen. “We’ll go after dinner. I missed lunch.”

“Think of all the calories you saved,” Ashlee said. “It’s the start of bikini season, you know.”

“I’m not missing any more meals. You’ll have to wait.”

Grumbling under her breath, Ashlee snatched the remote from my hand and flopped back onto the couch. I wandered into the kitchen where Mom was unwrapping a package of boneless skinless chicken breasts. Ugh. As much as I liked chicken, four times a week was a bit much.

“Chicken again, huh?”

Mom stuffed the Styrofoam tray and plastic wrap in the trash can under the sink. “I figured you girls wouldn’t want salmon, since we had that last night. Besides, I’m trying a new recipe where you poach the chicken in red wine.”

I had a sneaking suspicion it’d still taste like chicken. I studied Mom, noting how she’d put on a little weight during the last few weeks. Her cheeks held more color, and today she wore lipstick, something she’d stopped doing completely after my father had died.

“Go anywhere fun today?” I asked as I pulled a bar stool out from under the counter and perched atop it. I grabbed the
Herald
off the kitchen table and flipped it open.

“My bunco meeting. We have some new members.”

“That’s nice,” I said absentmindedly as I scanned the want ads to see if the spa’s listing for a yoga instructor was there. “Do they seem friendly?”

“Yes, very.”

Hesitancy in her voice made me look up to find her blushing. Odd. Bunco didn’t usually have that effect.

“Now let me finish dinner,” she said, and hustled over to retrieve the salt and pepper shakers.

“Need any help with the side dishes?”

“No, I’m zapping one of those rice pouches in the microwave. The sodium’s too high, but it’s so easy to prepare.”

“You know, Mom, Ashlee and I can make dinner some nights. Give you a break.” And you could bet I wouldn’t be making fish or chicken. Maybe tacos. Beef. With extra sour cream.

“Nonsense. You girls work hard all day. I can make dinner.” She laid the chicken breasts in a pan and poured red wine over them. I recognized the bottle as one a neighbor had given us for Christmas. She placed a lid on the pan and turned from the stove. “Now,” she said, her voice low, “your sister tells me you’re helping with Bobby Joe’s murder investigation. What have you found out?”

I folded up the paper and tossed it on the table. “Not much. I know Bobby Joe’s boss was mad at him but wouldn’t fire him until he had more proof. Unfortunately, I don’t know what proof he was looking for. Right when his wife was about to tell me, we got interrupted.”

“Sounds like you need to visit that gas station again,” Mom said.

My thoughts exactly. “Donald, the boss, isn’t likely to tell me anything. I really need to talk to his wife, but she spends all her time at the station, too. With their house right there on the property, who knows if she ever leaves the place.”

“Didn’t he marry that young waitress from the Central Valley? Well, she must go into town sometimes. I’m sure I’ve seen her at the grocery store.”

“Probably. But I can’t exactly stake out the station until she runs an errand. I have to work.” I shifted my weight on the seat. “Speaking of work, one of Bobby Joe’s monster truck rivals is staying at the spa, so I’m hoping to glean some info from him.”

Mom opened the pantry door and pulled out a pouch of rice. “Great. Keep at it. But be careful. Make sure you only talk to people when someone else is around. Don’t do anything dangerous.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. We have to clear your sister’s name.”

We? I felt a swirl of irritation in my throat. “I’ll help if I can, but the police are the ones who should be proving Ashlee’s innocent. In fact, I’m sure they already know she didn’t do it.” But what if they didn’t?

Mom placed the rice in the microwave. “I’m not taking any chances waiting for the police to solve this. Half the town is already wagging their tongues.” She slammed the microwave door shut. “Have you talked to Jason? Doesn’t he know a lot of cops around here? He might know something we haven’t heard.”

“I’ll check with him, although he can’t always tell me everything he knows. If he did, the police would never confide in him again.”

“Still, you might try.” She punched buttons on the microwave’s control panel, and it hummed to life. “How I wish your father was still alive. He’d know exactly what to do.”

My eyes burned as tears formed in the corners. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I know. He was always so levelheaded, no matter what. Remember that time Ashlee’s baby guinea pigs escaped after she left the cage door open?”

“And your father managed to scoop them up in my purse, while you two girls ran around and almost stepped on them, and I sat on the counter and screamed. I never did get that purse clean.”

Mom and I were still laughing at the memory when Ashlee walked into the room.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Dana and I were reminiscing about when your father saved us from those runaway guinea pigs.”

Ashlee put her hands on her hips. “I swear I didn’t leave that cage open.”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Mom said as she pulled the rice from the microwave. “Now, who wants to set the table?”

We spent dinner chatting about what we’d done all day. When I mentioned visiting the gas station where Bobby Joe had worked, Mom shot me a look that said we wouldn’t be discussing murder over our poached chicken. After clearing the table and washing the dishes, I grabbed my car keys and my purse.

Ashlee ran into the bathroom for a few minutes and emerged with brushed hair, a touch of blush, and a new layer of lipstick. Was I supposed to get dolled-up, too? I frowned at my reflection in the hall mirror and ran my fingers through my blond hair, wincing as I hit a few snarls. I was stopping by a dead guy’s apartment to pick up an iPod and quiz his roommate. I didn’t need to dress up.

I walked out to my car and settled into the driver’s seat, while Ashlee got in the other side. “Think we should call first?” I asked as she buckled her seat belt. “Let him know we’re dropping by?”

“Seriously, Dana, he’s a guy. He doesn’t care about those things.”

“If you say so.” I started the car and backed out of the driveway.

I knew from comments that Ashlee had made that Bobby Joe lived across town in a complex by the train tracks. I drove down the main strip, noting that the Get the Scoop ice cream parlor was doing a brisk trade on this sweltering summer evening.

In the passenger seat, Ashlee looked out the window and sighed. “Bobby Joe and I used to always have ice cream after we saw a movie. We’d share a banana split sundae.”

I swore I saw a legitimate tear in her eye. “I don’t know if I’ve said it, but I’m really sorry he’d dead,” I told her.

“Thanks. This weekend’s rally would have been huge for him. We’d be at the fan appreciation night right now.”

We were both silent as we passed the row of new businesses that had opened two weeks earlier, signs of life on what had been a dying block. Blossom Valley was starting to drag itself out of the recession, one business at a time.

I turned off Main Street and drove down Jasmine Road, past a long row of small, worn-down tract houses. This was the old part of town, where the cracks in the sidewalks and potholes in the street were extra deep.

“Where did Bobby Joe live again?” I asked as we got farther away from the main drag.

“The Palm Villa Apartments. Sounds way more posh than it is.” Ashlee gestured toward my side of the car. “It’s up here on the left.”

I drove a couple more blocks, pulled into the apartment lot, and parked in a visitor space. Behind the cluster of apartment buildings, I spotted a lone palm leaning to one side, only three fronds left on the thin trunk.

Shutting off the engine, I handed the keys to Ashlee. “In case you want to listen to the radio.”

“How long are you planning to stay in there? You’re only here for my iPod.”

“That and to talk to Bobby Joe’s roommate, if he’s around. He might be able to give me a lead on who hated Bobby Joe enough to kill him.”