Candy Apple Dead (19 page)

“Even if it means your brother goes to prison?”

“Do you have evidence against him?”

“I know he hated Brandon.”

“But he might not have been the only one. I heard that Brandon was arguing with somebody the day before the fire. Do you have any idea who that might have been?”

She picked up a curl and stared at it for a minute. “Lots of people were upset with him over the stupid Arts Festival thing, but you know that.”

“Yes, I do, but was anyone upset enough to kill him?”

“Over that? Probably not.”

“Over something else then?”

She dropped the curl and spent a minute smoothing it across her shoulder. “I don’t know, Abby. Look, I told the police everything I could. Everything I know for sure, anyway. And I really don’t want to talk about this anymore. My life’s completely messed up thanks to this. Losing Brandon has ruined everything. He’s gone, and I’m alone, but I still have rent and other bills to pay, and living in this town isn’t cheap. I need a job. Quick. But I’ll be lucky to get a job flipping burgers at this time of year. And this . . .”

She gave a sharp tug on the leash, and Max’s head snapped up. “This thing eats like a pig. I’ve spent a fortune already in dog food, which he then poops out all over the lawn for me to pick up and throw away. He spends half the night awake, scratching at the door and whining. My neighbors are pissed off, and the landlord’s threatening to evict me.”

I looked down into Max’s puppy-dog eyes and felt another sharp tug on my heart strings. “I’m sure it will get better,” I said, dragging my gaze back to Chelsea’s irritated scowl. “Surely the landlord will give you both a little time to adjust.”

Her face contorted as if I’d suggested eating worms for breakfast. “No way. I’m not
keeping
him.”

“Oh. I thought—” I broke off with a confused laugh. “I just assumed that having him around would be a comfort.”

“Well, it’s not. Libby’s going to drive me to the pound so I can leave him there. I don’t know what they’ll do with him, but I’ve had enough.”

Her abrupt mood shift stunned me. “But you can’t take him to the pound.”

“What else am I going to do with him? Brandon didn’t have any family, and everybody else is afraid of him.”

Until a few minutes ago I would have said that list included me, but Max seemed like a different dog this morning. Not that I wasn’t still a little afraid of him. Or maybe respectful was a better word. Max had always been a one-man dog, and I was not that man. “But what if nobody adopts him?”

“Then nobody adopts him, and the pound will do what they do. I
can’t
keep him, so unless somebody else wants to take over—” She tilted her head, ran another glance from my head to my toes, and held out the leash. “You want him? Be my guest.”

I backed a step away and held up both hands. “No. I didn’t mean that. I mean . . . Well, I
can’t
have a dog.”

“Okay then. But don’t be thinking bad things about me for doing what
I
have to do. Nobody else wants him, either.”

But the
pound
!

As if on cue, the dog nudged my hand again. A move Chelsea didn’t miss. “Look! He likes you.”

“He likes me at the moment,” I agreed reluctantly. “He’s never been this friendly before.”

“So it’s a sign.” She held out the leash again. “Take him.”

“But I—”

“Come on! You have that whole place to yourself. No landlord giving orders. No neighbors to get upset if he makes a little noise.”

“Yes, but there are health codes I have to consider. I can’t have Max around food.”

“He could stay outside while you’re working, and he’d be happy. You know how much he likes watching what’s going on. And he’d keep you safe. He’s a terrific watchdog.” As if she suddenly remembered that she was grieving, her voice caught, and she blinked away tears. “If I hadn’t taken him, nothing would have happened to Brandon. Please? Take him?”

Max’s stubby tail wagged slowly, and for a second or two I even imagined he understood what we were talking about. Knowing that I might live to regret it, I took a deep breath and held out my hand. “All right. Leave him with me.”

Chelsea’s hand shot out with the leash in it. “Oh, this is great. Thank you.” She passed the dog off to me and tucked that willful strand of curly red hair behind one ear. “One problem down. You don’t happen to have a job opening, do you?”

“Sorry.” I tried to look as if I meant it. “If I hear of any, I’ll let you know.”

“Great. Thanks.” She slipped her hands into the pockets of her overalls and backed away. “You’ll be fine with Max. Seriously. I mean, he’s kind of moody sometimes, but it’s not really that bad.”

A whole round of warning bells suddenly went off in my head. If he wasn’t that bad, why was she so eager to get rid of him? Doberman pinscher. Trained attack dog.
Moody?
“What do you mean, ‘moody’?” I called after her, but she’d already put several feet between us.

Waving one hand over her head, she bounced down the hill as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

Trouble hit at exactly three-forty-five on Monday
afternoon.

Karen had run to the boutique across the street to negotiate the price of a sweater with Kim-Ly Trang, owner of one of Paradise’s trendiest boutiques, which left me in the store by myself. Business had been slow all day, but I didn’t know whether that was because Max was on the sidewalk in front of the store, or because nobody in Paradise had a craving for sugar. I didn’t want to think that something else might be keeping them away, but the thought crossed my mind that some people might be a tad reluctant to eat something made by the sister of a suspected murderer.

I’d spent the morning making more Halloween candy—licorice and orange lollipops in a variety of shapes and chocolate-covered marshmallow tombstones that I’d ask Karen to decorate later. I was even starting to feel marginally comfortable with the amount of product we had on hand for the upcoming holiday. I’d been surprised to learn that Halloween is the busiest holiday for candy sales—bigger even than Christmas and Easter—with sales topping over two billion dollars every year.

While I didn’t expect people to buy their trick-or-treat goodies from Divinity, I did expect an increase in walk-in business over the next few weeks. Business we’d get, that is, if people weren’t afraid to come through the door.

While the candy cooled, I turned my attention to the pre-Christmas inventory Karen and I had managed to avoid all weekend. Sometime within the next six weeks, ski season would come to Paradise, and the usual low humidity would be less dependable as snow came to the mountains. I could count on a few days each month that would be good for making candy, but I wouldn’t be able to predict when they’d be. If I didn’t build up my inventory soon, I’d almost certainly regret it.

Then there were the display windows to plan—one for Halloween, one for Thanksgiving, and one for the Christmas holiday. Forget about the trouble I could get myself into, I really didn’t have the time to rush around Paradise trying to find Brandon’s murderer.

I was working on the Halloween sketch when the door flew open so hard it sent the brass bell over it into spasms. Stella Farmer burst inside, eyes flashing, nostrils flaring. She was wearing one of the green smocks from D&S Lighting, and a pair of glasses dangled from a chain around her neck and bounced hard against her breasts as she bore down upon me like a heat-seeking missile. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Stella so angry, but I didn’t want her to think she intimidated me. I stood slowly, trying to keep my movements unhurried and the emotion out of my voice. “Is something wrong, Stella?”

“You’re damn right something’s wrong. Did you tell the police I murdered Brandon?”

Where had
that
come from? “Of course not. What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t give them my name and tell them to talk to me?”

Well, when she put it
that
way . . . I’d almost forgotten, but I had told Jawarski about her.

Her eyes narrowed into thin slits. “It
was
you, wasn’t it?”

I stole a glance at Max who lay on the sidewalk, his head down on his paws. No help there. “I never said you murdered Brandon. I just mentioned that you’d disagreed with him over the Arts Festival. What was I supposed to do? Lie?”

Stella could have tunneled through the mountain with the look she gave me. “I don’t expect you to lie, but a little common sense wouldn’t hurt. For goodness sakes, Abby, it’s only an Arts Festival.”

“You didn’t feel that way the night of the Alliance meeting.”

“Of course I did.” She uncapped a dish, fished out a cinnamon disk, and popped it into her mouth. I wondered what she’d do if I waltzed into her store and slipped a light bulb into my pocket, but I didn’t ask.

“Okay, sure. I was upset with Brandon,” she said. “But being a little annoyed with someone is a far cry from murdering them in cold blood.”

“You accused him of trying to put you out of business,” I reminded her. “That’s not really
a little
annoyed.”

She waved one hand expansively. “It was a figure of speech.”

I rolled my eyes and the cinnamon disks out of her reach at the same time. “I never said you murdered him, Stella. If you don’t like being asked about the wild accusations you toss around, maybe you should be a little more careful about what you say.”

A flash of anger lit her eyes. “You’re such a little fool, Abby. You really think that Brandon was this great guy who could do no wrong, don’t you?”

Oh, if only she knew. “Of course not. I just don’t think he could have done all the things he’s being accused of doing.”

“Then you didn’t know him very well.”

She was such a mean-spirited, venomous woman, I wondered how poor Duncan had stayed married to her all these years. “This is pointless, Stella. Obviously, you didn’t think much of Brandon, but you don’t need to run him down now that he’s dead. Can’t you just let him rest in peace?”

“I’m not the only one who didn’t see his shining armor,” Stella said, her voice low. “It might surprise you to find out just how some people felt about him.”

I’d heard plenty in the past week, but Stella’s voice raised the hair on the back of my neck. “Actually, I’m starting to get a pretty good idea. I just don’t understand why. Not completely. Why did you think he was trying to put you out of business? What did he do?”

“I told you, I exaggerated. He wasn’t trying to put us out of business.”

I thought her eyes looked a little wild, but it took me a second to realize that she was afraid. Afraid that I’d find out the truth? That she’d been angry enough with Brandon to kill him?

“You certainly seemed to think otherwise last week,” I said again. “I’m sure I’m not the only person who knows that.”

She leaned in close, and the light in her eyes died. “Back off, Abby, or you’ll wish you had. You’re looking in the wrong place.”

My heart thumped hard against my chest, and my mouth grew dry, but I didn’t want her to know that I was afraid. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s just friendly advice.” She turned away and yanked open the door with only slightly less force than she’d used coming in. “Just do me a favor. Next time you feel the need to offer up a sacrificial lamb, leave my name out of it.”

She stormed out the door, somehow avoiding stepping on Max as she left. I think he twitched an ear, but it was clear that he wouldn’t be much use to me in a bad situation.

I could still feel her anger banging off the walls, so I opened the door to let the fresh air in and the evil spirits out. Max tilted his head a little, decided I wasn’t worth the effort, and dropped it back onto his paws.

There was more than enough to do inside, but the ability to take a break when I want one is one of the great perks of owning my own business. And I don’t mind admitting that Stella’s visit had unnerved me.

I sat on the step and scratched Max’s ear. “Friendly advice, huh? Friends like that I don’t need. I suppose the good news is Jawarski actually listened to me. I just wish he wouldn’t tell other people what I say.”

Max had no advice for me. Frankly, he didn’t even seem concerned.

I watched Stella barrel across the street at the corner and shivered. How seriously should I take her? Was she threatening me, or just trying to protect herself? Brandon would know, but he was the only one.

I moved my hand to Max’s neck and rubbed.

“I wish you could talk. I’ll bet you could fill in some of the blanks for me.”

I didn’t expect an answer, but I was still a little disappointed when I didn’t get one. “Look,” I told him. “It’s not that I expect us to get along like Lassie and Timmy or anything, but a little interaction would be nice.”

Apparently, he didn’t agree.