The Case of the Waffling Warrants

by Rosie A. Point

  “Yeah?”

  “Stay out of Detective Goode’s way. He came down from Dallas, and he means business.” He loped off toward the police station, leaving me with that sour food for thought.

  13

  “You know what this means.” Gamma was seated on our rendezvous bench under the trees in front of the inn, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She had chosen a pair of ironed jeans and a silk blouse today, complete with a string of pearls.

  “I hope I do,” I said.

  Gamma gave me one of her trademark sneaky smiles. “Meet me at the spot in five minutes. I’ll approach from inside the inn, you take the outside.”

  “Copy.”

  Gamma left me sitting on the bench with a few minutes of down time to consider our next steps. The “spot” as she’d called it, was our meeting point at the back of the inn. No one but my grandmother, me, and one other agent who wouldn’t out us, knew about what was underneath the inn.

  The Shroom Shed.

  And my grandmother’s super secret armory, stocked with every piece of equipment the budding and experienced spy might need. We’d be using it today to get more information about one suspect in particular.

  Josie Carlson.

  She had lied to me, avoided my questions, and I was becoming increasingly convinced that she had been the one who’d given Tina the brownies at the police station.

  Five minutes later, I rounded the inn, using the neat gravel pathway that ran alongside it, and met my grandmother outside the basement doors. She held the ornate key to the door, waiting for me, impatiently.

  “By all means, Charlotte, take your time. It’s not as if we have a murderer to catch.”

  I flashed her a grin. “I’ve missed you, Georgina. You’ve been busy.”

  “Yes, well, getting the cat hotel set up has been nothing short of hot and fiery.” She bent and unlocked the ornate lock on the basement doors—they were wooden, old, but decorated in luminous paintings of mushrooms.

  We entered the dark, dampness underneath the inn, and Gamma closed the doors behind us. Quickly, we wound past the darkened Shroom Shed, and toward the doorway separating this section of the basement from the armory.

  My grandmother used retina identification, her thumb print, and a key, to grant us access.

  The lights in her armory flicked on, revealing rows of shelving, stocked with weaponry, ammo, and devices, all organized meticulously. A clap of my grandmother’s hands opened the hidden weapon compartments on the wall. They emerged with a pneumatic hiss. The armor stands, two for women, one for men, held black clothing made from material that was breathable, fire resistant, and bullet resistant.

  I stopped inside the door, inhaling the scent of this place—a hint of gunpowder, but mostly that “new device” smell. My grandmother’s armory never ceased to amaze me.

  “All right,” Gamma said, and headed over to her touchscreen desk at the front of the room, closest to the door. “Target name is Josie Carlson.” She took her seat on the ergonomic leather chair and tapped on her desktop, bringing up information with ease. “Let’s see, what do we have here?”

  “We’re not going in hot, are we?” I asked. “I doubt we’ll need weapons for reconnaissance.”

  “Oh, Charlotte, you’d swear this was your first time running Intel with me.”

  I rolled my eyes at her, but she ignored me like I was a teenager. Not far off with the eye-rolling.

  “Josie Carlson,” my grandmother said, bringing up the information she had on file. My grandmother kept a file on everyone in Gossip, new and old, and was religious about updating her database.

  When I’d first arrived in Gossip, I hadn’t understood why she would need this, other than because she was bored of the quiet life after years as the NSIB’s top spy. But now, I got it. It was good to be prepared, especially when there was danger around every corner.

  And it helped Gamma keep control of the situation with Jessie Belle-Blue and her competing guesthouse.

  “Her usual movements include arriving at The Little Cake Shop at 07:00 a.m., lunch at the Hungry Steer between 12:00 p.m. and 01:00 p.m., arrival at home at 06:30 p.m.. She goes to church every Sunday, and she has a book club meeting on Thursdays.”

  “Anything about the Sewing Club in there?” I asked.

  “No. She doesn’t attend,” Gamma replied.

  “And was she friends with Tina Rogers?”

  “I don’t have that noted down,” Gamma replied. “My list of information isn’t inexhaustible. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have to go out and ask people questions, would you, Charlotte?”

  “Fair.”

  Gamma sent Josie’s home address to her phone then dismissed her information and rose from her chair. “We will need something special this evening. Listening devices that can pick up on what’s going on inside Josie’s house, attuned to conversation. That way, we won’t have to listen to the blaring of a TV while we’re there.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  Gamma tapped her nose then walked to a central glass case between the shelves. She hit a button on the side of it, and the glass slid into the white stand, revealing a black “bug” and a small remote next to it.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  Gamma removed both items and held up the smaller object. “This,” she said, “is my fly on the wall. FlyBoy Drone. Brand new technology from one of my contacts at the Pentagon. Watch this.” She lifted the remote and hit a button.

  The tiny bug whirred to life and flew from her hand, hovering in front of my face.

  “Silent and stealthy, it can be flown through the crack of a door or a keyhole to listen in on top secret conversations.” She grinned. “It attunes to a set earpiece to relay information in crystal clear quality.”

  “Wow.”

  Gamma guided the drone back to her palm with a few taps of buttons on the remote. “Wow, indeed. If Josie has anything to hide, we’re about to find out what it is.”

  We took my grandmother’s newly commissioned black SUV—a gift from an old spy buddy who had owed her a favor—out at 09:00 p.m., after the dinner service and the dishes were done. Everyone in Gossip knew what my grandmother’s Mini-Cooper looked like, so driving that on a top secret mission was out of the question.

  Gamma parked the SUV down the road from Josie’s house on Trickle Down Avenue before getting out of the car in the fading light. She flew the FlyBoy Drone toward the house, guiding it with a connected VR headset, and flew it in through the keyhole.

  “Can I see the video feed?” I asked, once my grandmother was back inside the SUV.

  “I can link that up to this.” Gamma tapped the screen attached to her dashboard. The car had come fully equipped with everything needed for high-tech surveillance. My grandmother fiddled with some settings and the image appeared on the screen.

  The FlyBoy Drone had settled on the wall in the living room which was HD quality on the screen.

  “Man, this is good,” I murmured.

  “Only the best. One shouldn’t be saddled with terrible surveillance equipment. It only makes the job more difficult,” Gamma said, sagely.

  “Oh! There she is.”

  Josie strode into view, fiddling on her cell phone, and her expression wasn’t happy. She plopped down on the sofa and switched on the TV. I fully expected a blast of ear-splitting noise, but the noise from the TV barely registered.

  “That’s impressive.”

  “I told you,” Gamma said. “Cancels out all noise except for conversation. To the best of it’s abilities.” She moved the fly a little on the wall to get a better view of Josie.

  “What happens when someone spots it and decides to use bug spray or a swatter?”

  “Evasive maneuvers,” Gamma replied. “This bug goes incredibly fast. If somebody hits it out of the air, it will be the pilot’s fault.”

  “Remind me to never try flying this thing.”

  “No reminder required. I simply won’t allow you to.”

 
; That was probably for the best.

  Josie’s phone rang, and she lifted it to her ear. Gamma and I quieted.

  “Yeah? Oh, hey. Yeah, no, everything’s fine. I told you, you don’t need to worry about me.” Josie paused and listened to what the person on the other end of the phone was saying. “Seriously? Ugh. Why would you even bring that up again? I am so not… No. Lauren. Stop it.”

  “It’s Lauren,” I said. “A sisterly phone call.”

  “She’s probably concerned about Josie because of Tina’s death. Lauren’s not oblivious to how suspicious her sister looks.”

  “Look, I don’t want to talk about it. My heart is not broken. My life is not over. I only care about the bakery now, so it’s fine.” Another long silence. “No, I’m not going to tell you who it is. Yeah. OK. Love you too. See you on Sunday for dinner. Do not bring that husband of yours, OK? No. I don’t care. Listen, I’ve made it clear how I feel about him so… OK, OK. Bye.” Josie hung up, shaking her head, and turned back to the TV.

  “Heart broken?” I asked. “Josie?”

  “Maybe over Tina. Maybe some relationship issue. Who knows. Not what we wanted. We need her talking openly about Tina to someone. Let’s hope that happens.”

  But I didn’t hold out any hope. Even with the fantastic drone at our disposal, we couldn’t force Josie to say the things we needed her to say.

  14

  The following morning…

  * * *

  Our evening reconnaissance mission hadn’t gotten us much closer to figuring out anything about Tina’s death. Josie had watched TV for an hour without talking to anyone else on the phone then had gone to bed.

  We’d parked in front of her house for another few hours then gave it up and returned to the Gossip Inn.

  I had to face facts. The Josie portion of this investigation wasn’t going anywhere. And I had other suspects I needed to consider. Like Mandy Gilmore and this head of the Gossip Sewing Club lady.

  Breakfast time came, and after another round of complaints about the lack of flour and cupcakes from Lauren, I exited into the dining room to make my rounds with a pot of coffee. The space was already packed with guests, including my target.

  Mandy Gilmore sat at a glossy, wooden table in front of the window, her chin resting on her palm as she stared out at the inn’s sweeping front lawn. Pensive? Guilty? Upset? She wore black today, which said something.

  I wasn’t sure what it said, but it said something.

  I made my rounds through the dining area, smiling at the guests, offering coffee, answering questions about what was for breakfast, and fielding complaints. Opal, the gossipy guest from a couple of days back, had a lot to say about the lack of cupcake offerings. Heaven forbid, Lauren heard her.

  Finally, I wound up at Mandy’s table.

  “Coffee?” I asked, sweetly.

  “Yeah, that would be great, thank you.” She tossed her dark hair, offering a wan smile. “You’re the one who came to my room the other day, right?”

  “That’s right,” I said, filling her mug. “I’m here every day. If you ever need anything, just let me know.”

  “Thank you. I will.” She wasn’t as sniffy today, and she didn’t look down her upturned nose at me. “I’m… listen, I think I was a little rude to you when Detective Goode was here. I wanted to apologize.”

  “There’s no need.”

  “There is. I’m sorry for being rude. I’ve been a bit upset, that’s all.”

  “Because of Tina?” I asked, pretending that it was a wild guess. “I noticed you were wearing black, and I thought it was probably about her. I know Tina had a lot of friends.”

  “She did. She was a lovely person. You know, she built her bakery from the ground up. I always felt like… she was an inspiration. Not like that wretched—ugh, listen to me. I shouldn’t say.”

  “Please, go ahead. Sometimes, it’s good to get this kind of stuff out.” That was my excuse and I was sticking to it. I’d gotten better at small talk, but I wasn’t a pro by any means.

  Mandy gave me a look like she didn’t know quite what to make of what I’d said, but shook it off a second later. “Josie. I’m not a big fan of Josie. I know she gave Tina trouble lately, that’s all. Tina complained to me about her because she was arrested on these ridiculous breaking and entering charges. Everybody knows that The Bread Factory does better than The Little Cake Shop. Tina would have no reason to vandalize Josie’s place.”

  “I heard that too,” I lied. “That’s crazy.”

  “All of this is crazy,” Mandy said, and took a sip of her coffee. “Sometimes, I think the whole town is crazy.”

  “Something in the water.”

  Mandy offered the barest of giggles. “Exactly.”

  “It’s so sad about what happened to Tina,” I said. “Really puzzling too.” Mandy hadn’t been in Gossip for a year, according to my information from Lauren. She wouldn’t know that I liked to poke my nose in murder investigations. Hopefully, that worked in my favor.

  “It’s terrible.”

  “I wonder who did it,” I said.

  Mandy shook her head, ruefully. “I wonder too.” More head shaking. “But… oh no, I shouldn’t say.”

  I encouraged her to continue by slipping into the empty seat opposite her and placing the coffee pot on the table.

  “Tina recently broke up with a guy,” Mandy said, after another sip of coffee. “A guy she was desperately in love with, but it didn’t work out.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the guy was too possessive. She loved him, but his behavior was out there. He proposed to her after they had only been dating for two months, and she said no. She was upset, but he was even more upset. He had a temper, Brick.”

  “Brick? The guy’s name is Brick?”

  “Uh-huh, yeah. Brick Jonas.”

  “That’s quite the name,” I said.

  Mandy shifted to the edge of her seat. “I’ll tell you a secret. The worst kept one in Gossip. Brick was as dumb as his name. And had the tendency to fly off the handle too. Temper, like I said. I never understood what Tina saw in him.”

  “Do you think…?”

  “Oh yeah. If anyone wanted to get rid of her, it was Brick.”

  “You think so?”

  “Definitely.” Mandy shook her head. “It’s terrible. That man should be behind bars.”

  The kitchen doors opened, and Lauren waved at me from them. It was time to start serving the guests. “It was nice chatting,” I said, then got up and excused myself.

  Mandy was still a suspect, but I’d found another name to add to my list.

  Brick Jonas.

  15

  “Intriguing,” Gamma said. “Very intriguing.” She held my phone with my updated notes and scrolled through them. “Brick Jonas. I know that boy. Slowest one of his bunch during high school, so the rumors say.”

  We sat in the library this time. Well, Gamma sat in one of the cushy green velvet armchairs while I dusted the spines of the books, questions sprouting lightning fast. Where was Brick? Would he have been able to murder Tina? His name hadn’t been on the visitor’s list.

  Was there a way that Brick might’ve gotten into the police station to see Tina without Officer Miller knowing?

  “What can you tell me about Brick?” I asked, stopping and gesturing at my grandmother with the feather duster.

  Sunlight, my ginger cat, had positioned himself on the arm of another of the chairs. He meowed at me.

  “What?” I asked. “It’s a valid question.” Once upon a time, I would’ve thought myself crazy for talking to cats. Now, it was an everyday occurrence. And not just in the cutesy “baby voice” way.

  Another meow from Sunlight.

  “Don’t argue with me.”

  “Are you quite finished, Charlotte?” Gamma asked.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said.

  “Brick Jonas is in his late thirties. He is as thick as a… well, a brick.”

  “The joke has alread
y been made.”

  Georgina tapped her fingertips on the arms of her chair. “It’s news to me that he was dating Tina. This must be a new development.”

  “Two months in the making, apparently. He tried to propose.”

  “Goodness, I have been slacking. I must update my database,” Gamma said. “I’ve been so busy with the kitten foster center…” She clicked her tongue. “No excuses.”

  “Does Brick have contacts at the police station?” I asked.

  “Contacts?”

  “Yes.”

  “Charlotte, everyone in Gossip has contacts with everyone else. It’s highly likely he was friendly with someone at the police station.” Gamma paused, her gaze shrewd. “You’re wondering if he managed to get in and see her without being written down on the visitor’s list.”

  “Yes.”

  “Perhaps. I can check with my grapevine. There’s a world where that could happen. The Gossip Police Station isn’t usually that busy. The officers service the entire county and the two smaller towns close by, so it's possible.”

  “That makes him a valid suspect,” I said. “I’ll need to talk to him. Soon.”

  “Any other avenues to investigate? Surely, you don’t plan on investigating just the one.”

  I dropped into the armchair where Sunlight had positioned himself, and he climbed into my lap, purring. I stroked his furry head, considering what my next steps would be. “The glove,” I said, at last. “When I spoke to Tina on the phone, she told me the glove wasn’t hers. That was the reason she believed she could make the police pay, her words not mine, for having arrested her. So who does the glove belong to?”

  “Sounds like you need to talk to the glove maker. Mary Moosmin. Or one better, the head of the Gossip Sewing Club. She was on the suspect list, correct?”

  “That’s right.” I paused my stroking and Sunlight let out a prrt as a complaint. I resumed petting him. “Brick Jonas, the Gossip Sewing Club, and Josie. My three main avenues. I didn’t squeeze much information out of Mandy, so I’ll have to talk to her again about seeing Tina on the morning of her death. I’ll phrase the question innocently. Say I’m trying to prove Tina’s innocence in the theft case at The Little Cake Shop. Mandy had a negative opinion of Josie, so it should work.”