by J. R. Ripley
I dressed for work and made a much-dreaded stop on the second floor at the door to Esther’s apartment.
Paul Anderson and his recently adopted dog, Princess, were just stepping out of the apartment next door. “She’s not home, Amy.” His hair was damp, and he smelled of lime. The man, not the dog.
My hand hovered over Esther’s door. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. We had coffee together. Me, her, and Floyd.”
Floyd was Floyd Withers, a fellow retiree whom Esther seemed to be growing fond of. Floyd was definitely fond of her.
“Rats. I need my register and safe keys.”
“What happened to yours? Lose them?” Paul was about my age, with wavy brown hair and brown eyes. Princess was a black and tan hound dog. Like her master, Princess was easygoing. The dog had once belonged to the same fortune-teller who had sold me the Baron Samedi statuette, but, fortunately, she carried none of the baron’s Lord of Death baggage.
Long story.
“No.” I explained about the murder of Yvonne Rice and how Chief Kennedy was holding onto my purse. “He promised I would get it back today.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about posting the pictures of the yellow cardinal in light of Yvonne’s murder, but I was dying to see them.
Ouch, poor choice of words.
“Wow.” Princess tugged at her leash. “If you want, I can let you borrow mine.” Paul changed his grip on the leash to his left hand and dug into the pocket of his black jeans with his right hand.
“You have a copy of the key to my cash register?” I watched in amazement.
“Yeah, the safe, too.” He dropped the key ring in my open palm.
“Where did you get these?”
“Esther made me copies. She said it was important to have backup.”
Princess yipped as if concurring.
“Gotta go.” Paul wiggled his fingers at the keys in my hand. “You can give those back to me whenever it’s convenient.”
He patted my shoulder affectionately. Dog and biergarten owner bounced down the stairs and out the back door.
It was only the shortest of commutes to his business, Brewer’s Biergarten next door, where dog and owner would spend the day smiling and greeting the customers and accepting belly rubs from the gushing ladies. There was no telling whether it was man or beast that got the most attention or belly rubs.
I had a feeling the competition was close.
I had just turned the sign in the window to open and unlocked the front door when Kim came strolling up the sidewalk.
Kim stamped her feet at the door and then rushed inside and wrapped me in her arms. Her wool scarf scratched my chin. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” I answered. Although it had been a sleepless night. “You heard about Yvonne then.”
“Dan told me.” Kim unwound the eggplant-colored scarf from around her neck and hung it on the coatrack at the door. She draped her fleece jacket atop it.
I grabbed her arm and pulled her to the kitchenette in the far corner of the store, where I already had a pot of coffee and a second pot of hot water for tea and cocoa brewing.
“Tell me what you’ve heard.” I had a package of Belgian speculoos cookies and a box of mixed dark chocolates open on the counter. Both had come from Otelia’s Chocolates across the street. The lovely owner, Otelia Newsome, had taken to experimenting with adding specialty cookies to her repertoire. It was bad enough that her chocolates kept me from losing weight no matter how many birding walks I took. Now I had cookies to contend with.
“Dan wouldn’t tell me much,” Kim said, taking a cup of coffee from me and adding two spoonfuls of raw sugar and a splash of low-fat milk.
I threw plenty of sugar in my cup and then plopped what I was pretty sure was a dark chocolate truffle in as well. It sank like a stone to the bottom, where it would dissolve slowly into a cloud of gooey heaven.
It was too early in the morning to be eating chocolates, but adding it to my coffee made it a flavored coffee drink, not a sinful dessert. That was my theory, and I was sticking to it.
I joined Kim, taking a seat at the second rocking chair in the nook that served as both a spot to relax and read from our small lending library of bird-related reading material and a place to get caffeinated and indulge in some sweets.
“Only that Yvonne had been shot.” Kim blew across the top of her cup then sipped. “The poor guy was up all night.”
“Is he still out at Yvonne’s house?”
“No. He’s home napping. I’ll go check in on him later.”
“Let me know if you learn anything new when you do.”
Kim smiled. “Of course. You have no idea what happened?” She knew that I was dying to know what was going on with the investigation.
“Not a clue.” I explained, as I had to the police, that I had not seen or heard anything unusual. “I listened to the radio this morning while I ate, and Violet didn’t have much to say that I didn’t already know.” Violet Wilcox ran AM Ruby and was a one-woman news and entertainment machine. “Did Dan say anything to you about a man named Alan Spenner?”
“No. Who is he?”
“An escaped convict. He has apparently been seen in the general area. Violet did mention his name on the air.”
“That’s going to have people nervous.” Kim ran a hand along her leg. “I wonder why Dan didn’t tell me. Do the police think he’s responsible for Yvonne’s death?”
I shrugged. “Jerry seems to think so. Speaking of whom, he promised me that he would return my purse today.”
“What is he doing with your purse?” Kim’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Did it match the outfit he was wearing?”
We laughed at Jerry’s expense.
Hey, somebody had to pay.
“He claimed that, because it was in Yvonne’s cabin, it was evidence.”
“That’s silly.”
“Tell him that.” I finished my coffee and rinsed my cup in the sink. “Did you notice anything odd last night at Yvonne’s house?”
“No, not really. I mean, the Ouija board. That was odd, I guess.”
“Derek certainly thought so,” I noted.
“Does he know about the murder yet?”
“I called him this morning and broke the news. I didn’t want him hearing about it from a stranger and worrying about me.”
“Or worse,” Kim said.
“What could be worse?”
“Him hearing about it from Amy-the-ex.”
“You’re right. That woman has it in for me.”
Kim grunted an agreement. “I probably shouldn’t be saying this…” Kim’s fingernails tapped out a beat on the side of her cup.
“But you are going to.” I planted my hands on my hips. “So spill.” I wriggled my fingers in come-hither fashion.
“Well,” Kim scooted to the edge of her seat, “Liz happened to mention that Amy, Derek’s Amy, that is, I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” I said impatiently. “Get to the point.”
“Liz said that Amy-the-ex is concerned that you are a bad influence on Maeve.”
“What?” I gaped at my best friend. “That’s crazy! How am I a bad influence on that sweet, little thing?” Maeve was Amy and Derek’s child, a bright eleven-year-old. I adored her. Liz was Liz Ertigun, Kim’s friend and Amy Harlan’s business partner in Dream Gowns, a boutique she just happened to coincidentally open next to Derek’s and his dad’s law office.
I believed the move was about as happenstance as the moon circling the earth last night. Everything, and I mean everything, that woman did was well-plotted. And her goal seemed to be reunification. She hadn’t dated a single man since her arrival in Ruby Lake. What was that all about if not a sign that there was only one man that held her interest?
“It seems Amy-the-ex believes you attract unsavory a
nd dangerous sorts. She’s concerned for Maeve.”
I sputtered, searching for words. “Kimberly Christy, that is so not true.” Or was it?
“Has Derek ever mentioned anything like that to you?”
“No, never!”
“Well, don’t get upset with me. I’m only repeating what Liz told me.”
I groaned. “If Liz is talking, the whole town is probably talking.”
“I wish I could say you were wrong, but I can’t,” Kim said in a really, really unhelpful way.
I blew out a breath. Anger and indignation boiled up under my skin, looking for an escape route. Unfortunately, there was none, and I was on the brink of bursting. “I would never do anything that would even remotely cause Maeve any harm.”
“I know that.” Kim flashed a grin. “Amy-the-ex is an idiot. Hey, that’s what we should start calling her: Amy-the-idiot.”
I couldn’t resist laughing. “I needed that.” I fixed my eyes on my best friend. “Fess up. That was you claiming to be the ghost of Sylvia, wasn’t it?”
“Of course not!”
“And writing that whole I am murdered line.” I shook my head. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I did no such thing. Maybe you were the one whisking that planchette all around the board. Maybe,” said Kim, refilling her own cup and haphazardly adding more milk and sugar, “Yvonne did the guiding herself.”
“Yvonne? Why would she do that?”
“Why not? She was the one who suggested playing. And it was her game.” Kim’s cup jostled in her hands. Coffee hit the floor. “If anybody could move that planchette around the board without causing suspicion, wouldn’t it be her?”
I soaked Kim’s spill up with a paper towel. I balled up the damp towel and tossed it in the trash can. “And she was murdered.”
Kim paled. “Do you think it was a premonition?”
“Maybe.” It was certainly worth thinking about. “Maybe she had an idea that she was in danger and it was her way of telling us.”
“If Yvonne thought she was in some sort of danger, why not just say so outright? If I was in danger of being murdered, I’d make sure everybody knew. I wouldn’t beat around the bush announcing it through a Ouija board.”
In such a case, I might just lock myself in one of Ruby Lake’s jail cells, surrounded by armed police officers.
I stared out the side window at a yellow-rumped warbler, a species affectionately named butter-butts, diligently plucking sunflower seeds from the bird feeder at the side of the house. A second warbler perched on the bare branch of a nearby hickory edging the street.
“What are you thinking, Amy?” Kim asked in response to my extended silence.
“I’m thinking that we hardly knew Yvonne Rice.”
“And now she’s dead.” Kim rested a hand on my shoulder. “Such a pity. So young. Plus, she had all those big plans.”
“And I was wondering whether Yvonne’s killer knew her too, or if it really was an intruder who’s responsible.”
“Like Alan Spenner.”
“Like Alan Spenner,” I said. “According to Violet, there’s a nationwide alert out for him.”
“They’ll catch the guy.”
“If he isn’t long gone.”
“True. If I were Spenner, I’d be halfway to Mexico by now.”
“Let’s hope he thinks like you.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want the man caught, I just wanted him as far from Ruby Lake as possible. I was grateful that Aunt Betty and my mom were in Louisiana, far from escaped convicts and killers—possibly one and the same. “I suggest we keep our doors and windows locked at night.”
I hated myself for repeating Jerry Kennedy’s advice.
“Dan’s always telling me the same thing.” Kim pulled her hand away as the front door chimed. “Shoppers.” She smoothed her store apron and moved toward them.
“You take care of the customers. I’ll scoop out the peanut bins.”
“You are scooping peanuts out of the bins?” Amy said in wonder. “What’s that all about? Bug problem?”
“Vermin,” I said, without stopping.
“Mice?” Kim looked anxiously at her feet.
“Rats. A two-legged brown rat.”
Kim thought a moment, then laughed. “Oh, I get it. Jerry’s coming to return your purse, and you’re making a preemptive strike.”
It was a well-known fact among us that Chief Jerry Kennedy often stopped into Birds & Bees, treating our store as his private snack bar. His specialty was coming just as the coffee was fresh-brewed (how did he know?) and we had cupcakes from C Is For Cupcakes, the bakery downtown near the square. Maybe he had a spy in town.
I did a mental double take. Could that spy be Esther?
No, she had no more affection for Jerry Kennedy than I did. Though for reasons I didn’t want to think about just then, I couldn’t discount Esther’s potential as a spy, even if it wasn’t in the employ of our chief of police.
She recently had alluded to a very peculiar past. I still wasn’t sure what to make of her claims. After all, the woman still claimed not to have a cat. If that was the case, why was she always covered in fur of the feline variety?
Jerry’s biggest weakness was the peanuts. There are two long rows of plastic bins holding various seeds and mixes to the left of the front door. Jerry always goes straight for the peanuts, popping them in his mouth like candy. After he’s had his fill, he stuffs his pockets like a squirrel preparing for the long winter months ahead.
Sure enough, Jerry Kennedy waltzed into the store as I was madly emptying the peanut bin.
At his approach, I caught the stomach-turning scent of gunpowder and musk. “Been to the shooting range? Or have you discovered a new cologne?”
Chief Kennedy ignored my barbed question. “Here’s your purse, Simms. I don’t mind saying, that’s a heck of a lot of makeup you haul around.” He jiggled my purse by its leather strap.
I snatched it from him. “Thanks. My camera was in there, for your information.” I grabbed it to make sure he hadn’t damaged it.
“I know. Nothing but pictures of birds.”
“You looked at my photos?” I boiled. “That’s invasion of privacy.”
“No, it’s not. It’s searching for clues.”
“You wouldn’t know a clue if it bit you in the butt.”
“Are you suggesting we try?” He wiggled his rear end at me.
“Grow up, Jerry. Or is that even possible?”
“Yeah, yeah. Where’s Kim?” Chief Kennedy snatched the plastic scooper from me. “Here. To show you what a nice guy I am, I’ll finish this up for you.”
Jerry began quickly shoveling peanuts from the box I had been dumping them in back into the almost empty bin. He refilled the bin quickly and plucked a handful of peanuts out for his trouble.
Jerry threw the scooper into the plastic-lined box that the peanuts had come shipped inside. These were Georgia peanuts, roasted, shelled, and unsalted—his favorite.
“And I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t snoop at my personal effects.” I peered inside my purse to survey the damage. Actually, the whole kit and kaboodle seemed as tousled and messy as ever. A handful of strangers could have rummaged around in there and I wouldn’t have known.
“Official police business,” Jerry said with a guilt-free shrug. “You never said where Kim was.” He hitched up his trousers with his free hand.
I watched with a frown as he ate my profits.
“She’s helping customers. Why?”
Jerry, although married, has a bit of a roving eye.
“No reason,” Jerry said, meaning he was about to tell me the reason. “I was just wondering if she’s seen Paula.”
“Who is Paula?”
“Paula d’Abbo, Sutton’s friend from Scottsdale.”
&n
bsp; “Dan’s friend?”
“Yeah.” Jerry was smirking like a six-year-old. “His houseguest.” He wrapped the word in finger quotes. “Dan brought her around to the station to meet everybody.”
“Right. Kim mentioned that a friend of Dan’s was going to be visiting from out of town.” I snapped the lid on the peanut bin, catching his fingers as he went in for seconds.
“Ouch! Hey! Careful, there.” Chief Kennedy sucked on his fingers, then shook out his hand.
What a sissy.
“An old classmate, right?” I brushed a lock of hair from my eye.
“She ain’t all that old. About our age.”
“You know what I mean.” Since it was too late to stop Jerry from pilfering the peanuts, I went about refilling the rest of the bins. Jerry sometimes ate the safflower seeds but always ignored any mixes that contained millet. He claimed the bits got stuck in his teeth. The man was as fussy as a finch.
One of these days, I’d fill each and every bin with nothing but millet. That would get his goat.
Jerry swung his eyes across the store. Kim’s head and the heads of the older couple she was helping showed above the shelves. “Kim hasn’t met her yet?”
“I don’t think so.” I was getting tired of this conversation and of Jerry’s presence. “Why?” Jerry’s middle name should have been Exasperating, not Jasper.
“No reason.” Jerry threw back the lid of the bin and thrust his fingers in deep. He shoveled another handful into his mouth and chewed.
“I’ll say this, though,” he began, as chewed-up bits of peanut fell like rain on his shoes and my once-clean hardwood floors. “Paula could give Kim a run for her money. Heck, she could give Tiffany over at the diner a run for her money.” He cast his eyes on Ruby’s Diner across the street.
“I get it.” I folded my arms over my chest. “You’re saying she’s pretty. So what?”
“I’m saying she’s drop dead gorgeous. Younger, too.”
“Oh? Shall I mention that to Sharon? You know, your wife?”
Jerry reddened and sputtered as he wiped damp peanut crumbs from his official Hey look at me, I’m a police officer trousers. I could only imagine what debris and germs those cuffs contained. “You remember anything else about last night that might be useful?” His tone had turned all official.