Read Between the Tines (30 page)

Forlorn, I slumped on the bench unable to make the trip to my truck. Irene came up beside me. She wore the traditional funeral black in a smart little dress and coat set. A string of white pearls hung around her neck and drew my eyes to her face. A face exhibiting more grief than many I'd spoken to so far.

"How are you holding up?" I asked.

"I'll be okay. It's
Gary
's wife I'm worried about." She sat next to me.

"Did you see Cara Long in the church?"

Irene nodded and her nostrils flared. "Can you believe her nerve in coming to the service? I don't think she talked to Karen, though."

"I'm pretty sure Karen knew about Cara's relationship with
Gary
so if she saw Cara, the pain was inflicted."

"The poor woman. All this grief and then to see her husband's ex prancing around the room."

"Hey, Irene, in our conversation about Cara, why didn't you mention that she came to town every month?"

Irene shrugged. "I guess I didn't think about it. Because of her history with
Gary
, she made a point of ignoring our department so I didn't always know when she was here."

"But you knew she was here now?"

"Here as in the funeral, no. Believe me if I'd known she was planning on attending I would have given her a piece of my mind."

I sighed. The biggest clue of the case had been right before my eyes all along and I hadn't asked the right question. Why I wasted all this time thinking Cara was pining away in
Texas
was beyond me now that I knew the truth. Well, I wouldn't waste another minute.

I swiveled to face Irene. "Can you check on something for me?"

"If it has to do with Cara, you name it."

"I think she got to Serendipity on Sunday. In plenty of time to kill
Gary
."

Irene gasped and drew back as if I'd stabbed her. "You think she did it?" she shouted.

People passing by, turned to stare. I scooted closer to her. "I won't know unless I find out the details of her trip. I need to know when she arrived, where she's staying and her itinerary while she's here."

"I'll go straight to the office and get back to you right away." She stood, her eyes glinting with determination.

"One more thing," I said, warming to the search once again. "When employees from the other factories visit the corporate office, do they rent cars and are they given security cards to get through the gate?"

"Yes. If there's a group only one will rent the car and get the card."

"So can you check with your friend in security to see if Cara is a card holder? And if she is, find out what time she entered the gate on Monday. Call my cell when you have the information."

Irene gave me a thumbs up and nearly ran to her compact car. This promising development gave me the energy I needed to get up and go home to change into my work outfit.

In my steamy apartment, I opened the windows and packed a lunch. I didn't eat at the funeral and I still wasn't hungry, but once I got to work on the project, I knew my appetite would return. I phoned Lyle and instructed him to meet me at the Buzzys' house, and then I drove to The Garden Gate to pick up my equipment.

In the back storage area, I heard Daisy and Hazel arguing. I couldn't make out their words, but with Hazel under such stress with Zeke losing his job, I thought it best to take a few minutes to referee.

At the end of the hallway, I spotted Daisy standing near a cart chock full of boxes of slug bait. All of the boxes were open, and Daisy had a look of consternation on her face. I moved within listening distance and paused to come up to speed with what was happening.

Hazel hovered over Daisy, her hands clamped on hips covered with a dingy gardening apron. "I mean it, Daisy. Things like this can't keep happening. You've got to stop and think before doing something this dumb."

"I didn't think it was dumb. I was just doing what you told me to do." Daisy started to cry.

"C'mon, Daisy, don't cry." Hazel patted Daisy's back. "I didn't mean to be so harsh but this is a lot of money down the drain. And Paige can't keep shelling out her money to fix your mistakes."

Time to intervene before Hazel told Daisy I'd hired her, but didn't really need her. "Ladies," I called out. "What's up?"

Daisy rushed to my side like a wounded puppy. "I just did what Hazel told me and now she's all up in my face about it."

I looked at Hazel with an understanding glint in my eyes. "Want to explain?"

"I told Daisy to fill the slug bait. And this is what she did." Hazel pointed at the open boxes.

Daisy rushed to her work. "The boxes weren't full. So I had to open them first if I was gonna fill them like Hazel said."

I stifled my laughter and crossed over to Daisy. "I think you misunderstood Hazel. When she asked you to fill the slug bait, she meant to go to the storage room and get the back stock of boxes to fill the shelves."

A light went on in Daisy's eyes, and she smacked her forehead. "Boy, am I a dope."

"Did you do anything but open the boxes?"

Daisy shook her head.

"Then go to the backroom and get the large roll of tape on the workbench. We can close these back up without a problem."

Daisy flew at me and pulled me between her birdlike arms. Just as quickly, she released me. "I'll even bring the extra boxes back with me."

She scampered off like a happy child and Hazel groaned. "You'll have to mark down those boxes, you know? No one wants to buy an opened box."

I shrugged. "We can at least get cost for them. No need to make Daisy feel bad about it."

Hazel shook her head. "You've gotta stop babying her."

"I know. I'll take a firm stand after her name is cleared of
Gary
's murder."

"Any progress on that front?" Hazel started closing up the boxes.

I joined her and told her about Cara Long.

"If she's the murderer she might balk when you put the pressure on. You better be careful."

"You know, Hazel, for such a self-professed curmudgeon, you're always thinking of the people around you."

"Harrumph."

"Okay, fine. Don't admit it." I snapped another box closed. "What's happening on Zeke's job front?"

Her lips made a sudden turn upward. "Good news. Zeke went back to the factory and apologized for getting so mad. He humbled hisself right there and asked for his job back. And they did it." She swung her head side to side. "Reinstated him with full benefits and pension as if nothing ever happened."

I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a firm hug. She harrumphed again and backed away. "Yeah, well, no need to go all prissy on me."

I laughed and when my cell rang, I greeted Irene with a chipper hello.

"Got what you need. Cara arrived on Sunday afternoon just like you said. She's staying at that new bed and breakfast that opened last month. Hideaway Heaven, I think is the name of it."

At the mention of my dear friend Emma Gherkin's new business venture, I grinned. I could rush over to her house and she would tell me all I wanted to know about Cara's comings and goings.

"How about the car?"

"Cara is the only one visiting so she has the rental. If you have paper, I'll give you the plate number."

"Hold on," I said and cupped my hand over the phone. "I gotta go, Hazel. I'll see you later."

"I know that gleam." She rolled her eyes. "You're hot on someone's tail. Just be careful okay?"

I nodded and ran to the backroom for paper. "Go ahead, Irene."

She rattled off the number, and I jotted it down. "Anything turn up on the security card?"

"I have her in and out times for the whole week. I can text them to you, if you'd like."

"I'd like," I said and stuffed the paper into my pocket. "But can you tell me now about Monday morning?"

"She entered the gate at nine fifteen for a nine thirty meeting with Nathan Jacobs."

"And her itinerary?"

"I'm still waiting for her assistant to email it to me but I thought you'd want these details right away."

"And you were right. Good work, Irene. I owe you big time. When you get the itinerary, go ahead and email it to me."

We disconnected and I gathered my tools as if I was floating on a cloud. Pickup loaded, I called Lyle to tell him I would be delayed and pointed my truck toward Hideaway Heaven. The large Victorian style home appeared as if it had been on this site since the Victorian Era, Mrs. Gherkin's husband had actually designed and built the house in the forties.

I parked in the circular drive and rushed toward the porch. Mrs. Gherkin sat in a traditional wooden rocking chair, knitting on her lap. She'd begged me to call her Emma, but I couldn't manage to make the transition. I had been able to start calling my old teachers by their first names since I'd moved back to town, but Mrs. Gherkin had to remain a Mrs. for me.

When she didn't stir, I paused at the bottom of the steps and looked to see if she was breathing. Her eyes were closed and soft little snores drifted from her mouth. She wore her usual old-fashioned shirtwaist of a blue paisley design. Thick hose were rolled around each ankle and her feet were encased in dress shoes that laced up the front and boasted wide clunky heels.

I'd dubbed her a Hollyhock, old-fashioned cottage garden staples that had an unsurpassed nostalgic charm. Mrs. Gherkin always dressed from a bygone era and was as crinkly as a hollyhock flower. Still, she was fun loving and had a gentle spirit that drew people to her.

Hating to wake her, I clomped up the stairs with enough noise to make her stir. Once I explained my mission, she would forgive my rude awakening.

Her eyes, dressed with a thin coating of lavender eye shadow, drifted open and fluttered in confusion. "Oh, Paige. I must have nodded off. Come sit down." She rocked forward. "I'll just get us some tea."

I held my hand up. "Don't bother with tea. I can't stay long."

"You sound as if this isn't just a casual visit."

"I'm sorry, but it's not. I have some questions to ask about your boarder, Cara Long."

"Oh, that tart," she said and then clamped her hand over her mouth. "Oh, dear. I can't believe I said that. You'll have to forgive my terrible manners. I guess I'm not fully awake and in control of my faculties."

"That's okay, Mrs. Gherkin." I patted her hand resting on the arm of the rocker. "If it's any consolation I think she's a tart, too." I laughed.

Mrs. Gherkin's lips tipped in a shy smile. "Be that as it may, we should move forward in our conversation, don't you think?"

"Sort of. I have to tell you right up front that Cara had a relationship of the tart variety with Gary Buzzy when he lived in
Texas
."

Mrs. Gherkin gasped and clutched her chest. She pulled an embroidered hankie from her sleeve and fanned herself. "That's the young man who was just killed, isn't it?"

I nodded. "And I think she might have been involved with his death somehow."

Another gasp, this one sent her back into her chair. "Oh, dear."

"Do you remember when Cara left the house on Monday morning?"

"Oh yes, I remember every morning this week in great detail. Monday was the day my eggs were too dry. Tuesday it was the English muffins. Wednesday, the fruit was too sour and today, well, today she opted to dine out." The words rushed out like a cathartic purging.

"So I take it, Cara had breakfast with you each morning."

"Yes, and it had to be ready at exactly eight fifteen at which time she flounced down the stairs and rang the little bell to be served. I laid her food before her, and then ate my breakfast in the kitchen, jumping up to wait on her every time that blasted little bell rang."

I fought back my laughter at the sight of the two of them at such odds with one another. Mrs. Gherkin had such a sweet disposition. Cara had to have really been a royal pain to get this kind of reaction. But wait, what was I laughing about? Cara was here, not in the woods killing
Gary
.

"Any chance Cara could have slipped out earlier on Monday morning without you knowing about it?" I asked.

"Positively not. She came in all hours of the night, smelling of liquor and men's cologne, but I arise at five sharp, and I would have known if she left."

Disappointed, I thanked Mrs. Gherkin for her kindness, gave her a gentle hug and pounded down the stairs. Another dead end. When was I going to find the one clue that led me to the killer? It had to be soon. I was running out of ideas to follow up on.

The afternoon of physical labor hauling concrete replaced my angst over
Gary
's murder and my loss of Adam with good old-fashioned satisfaction of a job nearly done, not to mention tons of muscle aches.

Though I was the boss and could simply sit in the cab and not lift any of the concrete, Lyle and I took turns operating the Bobcat and guiding, sometimes shoveling the large chunks into the front bucket. I didn't do this because I was such a good boss, I did it so I would exhaust myself and sleep tonight instead of pacing the floor wondering who killed Gary and if Adam would ever want to get back together with me.