Death at the Day Lily Cafe (11 page)

Pizza Hut? I thought. My competition?

“Thanks, Bin. Say, while you're here, can you help me put this screen over the fencing?”

Bini hoisted one end of the ungainly screen.

“Can I help?”

“We got it.” Bini eyes were focused on Tyler's back. She heaved the screen up on her shoulder and they walked in sync.

Once they had settled it on the fence, I said, “What's a CSA?”

Bini looked at me as if I had grown a second head. “You live on a farm and you don't know?”

“Community supported agriculture,” Tyler said. “I'd like to get us to biodynamic before we start talking about that.” He studied the fence. “I think we need to shift it a little. Ready?”

Feeling useless, I went over to Dickens, who was panting under a tree. I brought his water bowl closer, and he lapped it up eagerly. CSA? Biodynamic? I sat down next to Dickens and scratched his ears. I watched as Tyler and Bini adjusted the screen. Bini brushed her hands on her jeans. Her muscles were tight and defined. I stopped scratching when I felt something. “Tyler,” I called, “there's a lump behind Dickens' ear.”

“Probably just a tick bite or a fatty deposit,” Bini said.

I explored the skin under Dickens's velvety ears. “It's hard, though. Not soft like a fatty deposit.”

“Labs get lumpy,” Bini said without making eye contact.

Although I realized Bini was trying to prove her worth, I hoped we would reach a place where it didn't always come at the cost of making me appear ignorant. I wanted to tell her I had grown up with Labs, my favorite being a yellow one I'd named Pancakes. But it was pointless. Besides, she was helping Tyler. My job was to make her to feel welcome on the farm. And I was actually looking forward to admiring the stovetop. I hadn't scrubbed it since I first moved in.

“Hey, Bin,” Tyler said, “you ready to take the tractor tour? I want to show you what I was talking about yesterday.”

“Tyler?” I called.

He stopped and faced me. “Yeah?”

“Can you find me some asparagus?”

“I'll ask the guys at lunch.” He started to walk.

“And Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“I have some time today. I could take Dickens to the vet. Just to be safe.”

Bini stared hard at Tyler. He looked from her to me. I kept stroking Dickens and tossed a wad of brown fluff into the grass. “That's a generous offer,” Tyler said, “but I'll take him. He's due to go anyway.” He started to walk toward the tractor but stopped. “Maybe you could pick me up some Frontline.”

I cajoled Dickens to follow me into the kitchen. It was too hot a day for him to be under the tree pining for Tyler. And it wasn't a good idea for me, either. After munching on a biscuit, Dickens galumphed onto the cool wood floor with a loud exhale of breath.

My phone beeped and I slid my finger over the bottom. Glenn:

 

N
INETEEN

I found Glenn seated in one of the plastic chairs at Birdie's next to a tall man in his early thirties dressed in jeans and a polo shirt with the collar popped. His face was tanned, his thick dark hair neatly combed.

“Hello, Doris,” I said.

She introduced me to her nephew. I extended my hand and said, “It's nice to meet you, Jamie. I'm very sorry about your father.”

“Thank you,” he said in a polite voice. “I still can't believe it happened.” He gazed up at me. “You were out at my house the other night. You and my mom were looking at her high school yearbooks.” He cocked his head. “Why was that?”

I could feel Glenn's eyes on me. “Glenn and I are helping your mom. I just thought there might be a clue there.” I shrugged. “But we came up short.” I walked over to the counter. “I brought muffins,” I said. “Double chocolate. Always a crowd pleaser.”

“Oh, I've missed these muffins,” Doris said.

I peeled back the cloth napkin I had placed over the basket and held it out to Doris. “They were a big hit at the café on Sunday.”

Doris selected a muffin, and I walked over to Jamie and Glenn. Glenn removed one, but Jamie shook his head. “No, thanks.” He patted his stomach. “The force likes us to stay in shape.”

“You worried about gaining a pound or two?” Crumbs dotted Doris's lips. “These muffins are worth it.”

Jamie smiled. “You've been trying to fatten me up my whole life.”

Doris perched on the stool behind the counter. “Jamie's only going to be around for one more night. He's got to get back to work.”

“I'll be home next time I get a few days off. Aunt Doris acts like I'm never around.”

“How'd you get that tan?” Doris said. “You been to the beach?”

“Okay, so I don't come home every time I have a few days off.”

“Well,” Doris said, “the sooner the better. Your mom has lost her senses.” Doris slid my paper over to me on the glass counter.

“Thanks. Do you know Tyler and our new employee are eating at Pizza Hut?”

“If you want to compete with the chains,” Doris said, “you're gonna have to open more than four days a week, Miss Rosalie. I get folks in here asking me why you aren't.”

“I'm working on it. There's only the four of us.” I brushed my hair from my face. “I think we all need a few days to recover—right, Glenn?”

“I'm doing just fine. Say, I didn't know you and Tyler hired someone. Who is he?”

“
She
is Bini Katz. Do you know her, Doris?”

“I know her.” Doris folded her arms. “Something is off with her. She's not so good with people.”

“Really?” I said. “I thought it was just me.”

“I don't know what it is, but she's awkward. Always has been.”

I considered her words.

“Jamie,” Glenn said, “we haven't really come up with a plausible suspect yet. Do you have any idea who could have done such a horrible thing?”

“My mom didn't kill my father.” Jamie cracked his knuckles. Ten loud pops. “The sheriff has no business accusing her.”

“Being a police officer, you must have a lot of questions,” Glenn said. “Too bad you can't help the sheriff out with his investigation.”

“I think it's best I stay out of it,” Jamie said, and placed his hands on his thighs, his knees spread wide apart.

“Maybe you could help Rosalie and Glenn,” Doris said. “Glenn asked if you have an idea who might have done this.”

“My dad worked hard,” Jamie said. “He was good at what he did. But it sure irked him when one of his customers didn't appreciate the quality of his work. I was with him one time when this woman didn't want to pay him the full amount. So he got down on his knees and showed her how the kick guard was joined just right. He kept pointing stuff out until she told him to shut up and wrote the check.”

“Not all of his clients were that easy,” Doris said.

“Oh yeah.” Jamie nodded. “But it's hard getting paid around here. You do the work and then folks decide they don't want to part with their money. And then you see them in church on Sunday and you think, what the…?”

“Is there someone specific who comes to mind?” Glenn said.

“Not really. But Dad used to do projects with that guy Jackson Crawford. You know, Crawford and Sons Construction? They didn't always see eye to eye.” Jamie laughed and shook his head. “And then the next thing you know they're hanging at the tavern together making bets on a Ravens game.”

“I hope you don't mind my asking,” I said, “but did your dad carry one of his shotguns in his truck?”

Jamie stopped fidgeting and grew still. “Only when we went hunting.”

“Is there a gun rack?” Glenn said.

Jamie shook his head. “He kept it under the seat.”

“No alibi, and now the shotgun that nobody knew was there,” Doris said. “What's your mom doing today? She back at work?”

Jamie clenched his hands together. “Butch is over there. That's why I came here.” I looked from Doris to Jamie and back to Doris. I gave her a questioning look, and she just shook her head. I thought about what Custer had said the other day, that a child is the barometer for the health of the family. My guess was Jamie held secrets as tight as his clenched hands.

“Jamie is coming to my house tonight,” Doris said, apparently anxious to change the subject. “I'm making him spaghetti and meatballs, and then we're going to play
Call of Duty
. Ain't that right, Jamie?”

“That's right,” he said. “And you will probably kick my butt.” He smiled at his aunt. It was a nice, warm smile.

“You play video games, Doris?” I said.

“Sometimes I feel the need to blow something up. Jamie and I have been blowing things up for many years.”

I folded my paper. I knew there were things Doris wanted me to know that shouldn't be aired in front of Jamie. Or maybe she didn't want me to know. She seemed very protective of her nephew. I caught Glenn's eye. We were going to need to talk. “Well, I have work to do. I'm trying a new recipe. Asparagus soup shooters. What do you think? I'll serve them as a breakfast appetizer. Maybe lunch, too. I thought it would be refreshing in this heat.”

“Not for free, I hope,” Glenn said.

“Been there, done that. Now I just have to find me some asparagus. Seems my provisioner has other things on his mind.” The bell on the door jingled behind me as I exited the store.

*   *   *

I walked toward my car and noticed the sheriff's cruiser idling along Main Street. I bent down and peered in the window. The sheriff was staring ahead, the air-conditioning blasting a part through his hair. I rapped on the glass.

He sat for a moment and finally buzzed down his window.

“You didn't put any money in the meter.” I flashed him a smile.

“What do you want, Hart?” he said, his expression deadpan.

“I have some scones at the café. I'll make you a cup of coffee, too.”

“I thought you were closed.”

“I am. But I put the scones in the fridge. They'll be fresh as a daisy.” I straightened. “Meet you there.”

I headed toward the café, hoping he would follow. Sure enough, I heard the gears shift into park and the engine go silent. I left the door open and flipped on the lights. I was already starting the coffee when he walked tentatively into the room.

“I have half a mind to be nervous about this.”

“Just supporting our local law enforcement. Have a seat.”

He perched on a chair.

“Be right back,” I said, and fetched the scones.

When I returned, the sheriff was looking out the front door. Jamie stood at the bottom of the steps on the sidewalk, hands on his hips, gazing in at the sheriff. I stood stock still. Jamie stared hard, eyes narrowed to slits, jaw set. The sheriff looked away, and after a moment Jamie turned and continued down the sidewalk.

Sheriff Wilgus cleared his throat. “I'll take it to go.”

“No problem. But we'll have to wait for the coffee to finish.” I drummed my fingers on the counter. “How well do you know Jamie Fiddler?”

The sheriff shrugged. “Not well.”

“He's very handsome,” I said and dropped the scones into a thin white bag. “Good hair.”

“I don't notice that kind of thing.”

I folded the top of the bag. “Did he ever get into any trouble?”

“I said I don't really know the boy.” He stood up and hitched up his belt.

I hesitated. He wasn't nibbling. And maybe Lori was right. Maybe there were secrets that didn't need to be aired. “Jamie didn't look too happy with you.”

“Maybe he isn't happy with his mother for shooting his father.”

“Maybe he thinks you're picking on her unnecessarily,” I said.

“Speaking of his illustrious mother, seems she's living it up since she got rid of her ball and chain.”

“Painting her kitchen is living it up?”

“She painted her kitchen?”

I pressed my lips together. I wanted to get information out of him, not offer what I knew. “What do you mean by living it up?”

“She's been seen at the tavern with Butch Wells. Her husband's body ain't even cold yet.” He lifted his chin. “Sound like a grieving widow to you?”

“She said Butch was CJ's best friend. Maybe he's just helping her with her grief.”

“Ha! The only time he comes around is when he wants something.”

“Sheriff, where exactly was CJ's body found? I know it was in a lacrosse field, but where exactly?”

“The one that backs up to the tavern.”

“Do you think someone moved the body, or was he killed in the field?”

“She shot him right there in the field and left him for dead.” He scowled. “I knew you had a reason for this. What the heck do you care whether or not Lori Fiddler shot her husband? If you were from here, you'd know everyone expected her to do it twenty years ago.”