Shot Cross Buns

by Tegan Maher

  My mind raced, running through all the information I’d picked up on Frank, then settled on the conversation I’d had with Beatrice. She’d mentioned how she figured he’d blown the money gambling. Bingo. But had he seriously racked up a debt with people like that? I mean, from what I’d heard about him, he was a jerk but not an idiot. Still, it was an addiction—I’d heard the stories of people losing everything because of it. Savings, job, car, house ... it was a possibility.

  My phone rang, startling me out of my reverie. I didn’t recognize the number, but answered it anyway, just in case it was the sheriff. I breathed a sigh of relief when his rough voice and clipped tone greeted me.

  “What can I do for you, Toni? Linda said you left a message for me to call you. Super-sleuthing again?”

  Though the words were insulting, his tone was tired, so I bit back my knee-jerk retort and took a deep breath.

  “If you want to call solving the case super-sleuthing, then yeah, that’s what I’m calling for.”

  “Toni, I told you—”

  “I know what you told me, but hear me out.” I ran through all that I’d learned from Janie, and he was silent for a minute, then I heard keys clacking on a keyboard.

  “Sheriff,” I asked when the silence stretched.

  “Toni, thank you for the information. I have to go now.” And with that, he hung up. Great.

  I called Dee and told her what I’d learned, and was shocked when she called me back twenty minutes later to let me know the sheriff had released Jeremy, and that he’d seen Gabe leading in the dark-haired guy from the diner through the office in cuffs. Wonder of wonders—the man had listened to me and followed through.

  I about jumped out of my skin when somebody knocked on the front door a few minutes later. I crept to it and peeked outside the window, breathing a sigh of relief when Scout waved at me through them. Apparently, I wasn’t as good at subterfuge as I’d thought. I pulled the door open.

  “Hey, you,” I said, stepping back to let him in. “Did we make plans?”

  “Nope,” he said. “I’m rudely dropping by unannounced just to say hi.”

  I smiled. “Then hi back. I’m glad you stopped by.” I rolled my head on my neck. “It’s been one of those crazy days.”

  “Normal crazy, or crazy crazy?” He followed me to the kitchen, where I poured us both a glass of tea.

  “The latter,” I said, then told him about the call from Janie and Jeremy’s release. His eyes lit like he was connecting the dots to a mystery.

  “That explains all the cruisers and flashing lights at the hotel, then,” he said. “I drove past there a little bit ago and I’m pretty sure every cop in Mercy County was there.”

  I nodded. “Yup, that’d be the reason.”

  He gave me a gentle look. “See,” he said, “I told you Gabe wasn’t a bad guy, and to be fair, it’s not like this is exactly something he would have been expected to look for.”

  I knew that deep down, but I was still a little peeved on an irrational level. “I know. And he did release Jeremy as soon as I called him.”

  “See?” he said. “All’s well that ends well.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  IT WAS NOON THE NEXT day, and Dee, Nikki, Annie, and I were at the cafe, sitting at the counter eating some deep-fried Monte Cristos, a new sandwich item that Jeremy wanted to add to the lunch menu at the café and was using us as guinea pigs. I had to admit, it was one of the best sandwiches I had ever eaten, and figured it was gonna be one of my go-to favorites.

  "The sauce on this is amazing. What's in it?" I asked.

  Jeremy winked at me. I'm afraid, it’s a trade secret. If I told you how I made things, then you wouldn't have any incentive to come here and eat."

  A big grin split Dee's face. "And that's why I've decided to let Jeremy manage this place for me."

  My eyebrows shot up into my hairline as I glanced from Nikki to Annie, who looked just as surprised as I felt. I turned to Dee. "Wow. So business must be doing well. When did you decide that?"

  Dee lifted a shoulder. "Quite a while ago, actually. I guess I was just waiting for the whole Frank thing to come to an end." She gave me a grateful look. "And thanks to you and Janie, they finally have.”

  “Too bad Janie had to work and couldn’t join us today,” I said as I grabbed a napkin from the dispenser on the counter.

  “I can’t believe I was so wrong about her,” Annie said as she dumped ketchup on her fries. “Or that Frank was rubbed out by some big-city knee-breaker for gambling debts. Who knew that even happened anymore?”

  “As long as this man right here is a free man and can keep cooking like this, I don’t care who did it or why,” Nikki said as she walked around the counter to refill her pop. “And that’s not all you’ve decided, is it, Dee?”

  Dee blushed but smiled. “It’s not.” She turned to Annie. “Nikki and I were talking, and we know you’ve been having a hard time paying the rent on your place since your landlord jacked it up on you.”

  Annie was glancing back and forth between them. “Yeah, but what about it? It sort of just is what it is. I’ve already talked to him and he’s not willing to work with me. And it’s not like I can afford to move even though I desperately need a third bedroom.”

  “But Nikki made a valid point,” Dee said. “I was talking to her about what to do with Fiona’s house. I’d considered selling it, but I don’t really want to do that. I was gonna rent it to Jeremy, but he said he’d rather have the apartment here, above the cafe. So, she suggested you.”

  “Oh, Dee,” Annie said. “There’s no way I could swing the rent on that place. It’s huge. Like you pointed out, I can’t afford the rent where I’m at, and that house is worth at least five hundred more a month.”

  Dee held up her finger. “Yes, but it’s paid for, remember. It’s not like I have a mortgage to pay, so all I’d need is enough to put back in case something goes wrong, like the water heater or something, and for maintenance. What you were paying before was affordable, right?”

  “Well, yeah,” she said, her brow furrowed.

  “Then that’s what I’m asking for rent if you’re interested.”

  Tears welled in Annie’s eyes. “The kids’ll each have their own bedroom, and a yard to boot! Oh, Dee, thank you!” She slung her arms around her new landlady and hugged her so hard Dee had to wiggle away from her.

  “When can you move in?” she asked. The place is still full of Fiona’s stuff, but there are a few pieces in there that I want to keep. For now, I’m going to stay at the lodge, since I’m going to be needing the kitchen on a daily basis. Plus, we have guests coming, and I don’t want Toni out there by herself. The guys seem nice, but it’s better safe than sorry.”

  Annie shook her head, her eyes wide. “Now! I can move in now! I’m on a month-to-month, so I don’t have to do anything other than give him thirty days!”

  That Dee had decided to stay at the lodge was news to me, though I’d hoped so, and I was glad to hear it because it was one of the main misgivings I’d had about the whole B&B idea. I’d feel much better having her around.

  I had just taken a huge bite of my sandwich when the sheriff walked in. "There you are," he said as his eyes landed on me. “I stopped by the lodge and you weren’t there, so I hoped I might find you here.”

  I covered my mouth as I hurried my chewing along so I could swallow my bite and actually speak. I nodded as I took a drink of water to wash it down. "You found me," I finally managed.

  "We arrested Giuseppe Oreno after we went through his hotel room and found ten-thousand dollars and a few receipts from Frank’s store that had probably been mixed in with the cash. Looks like he killed Frank and went back to clean out the safe, so both feed store crimes have been solved,” Gabe announced.

  “Why did the guy want Frank dead?” Annie asked. We’d suspected it was gambling but didn’t know anything for sure.

  The sheriff shook his head, his face sagged. “Seems Frank had a bit of
a gambling problem and did some business with these guys. He owed them a lot of money and couldn’t pony up the dough, at least, not the kind of money they wanted to see, so Guiseppe was sent up here to get what he could from him and if he didn’t have enough, to kill him. I guess the money he took from the safe was just a small fraction of what the bookie was owed.”

  “So do you have to keep him locked up here, or is he being sent to some big federal facility?” I asked.

  The sheriff’s eyes twinkled “The FEDS are coming down to pick him up. We locked him up in our little jail for now, and I swear I thought his head was going to explode when I told him he’d be staying on in Mercy indefinitely for murder. I went on and on about the niceties we offered in our state prison, too, which is where he was headed. That's all it took to get him to cut a deal, all because he didn't want to be imprisoned for even one moment in this small town."

  I made a hmph sound. “Yeah. That’s about how he was when I overheard him talking to Marnie. He didn’t have enough unpleasant things to say about this town.”

  The sheriff reached in his pocket and pulled out an envelope. "This is for you," he said as he handed it to me.

  I frowned, unable to fathom what it could be as I took it and opened it. I pulled out a check. "One hundred thousand dollars," I gasped as I gaped at the check.

  "That's the reward that was being offered for any information that led to the arrest of Giuseppe Oreno. And in my opinion, you earned every dime of it. Even if you were a total pain in my ass." He leaned against the counter, resting his elbow on top of it as he crossed his ankles.

  I shook my head, disbelief coursing through me. "Thanks. This will really come in handy with lodge renovations. But I didn’t do it alone. I couldn't have done it without your help, or Janie’."

  The sheriff gave a sage nod. "I’m a public servant, so therefore I’m not entitled to any of it. Busting bad guys is my job, and I love my job, so the money is for just you and Janie, and I'm sure you two can work something out.” The sheriff cocked his head as he looked at our plates. “So, what are you gals eating?"

  "A deep-fried Monte Cristo. It’s a new sandwich item that Jeremy's thinking of introducing to the lunch menu," Dee answered.

  "Hmm. I know you’re closed until dinner, but I’m famished. How hard do you think it would be for me to score one of those?" The sheriff took a seat beside me.

  "Jeremy, can you make another Monte Cristo for the sheriff, please?" Dee called.

  "That is if it isn't too much trouble," Gabe added.

  "Not a problem," Jeremy called from the kitchen. I noticed his voice sounded a little tight. After all, he’d been through the past week, I couldn’t blame him.

  “I remembered you prefer onion rings to french fries.” He set the plate down.

  "Thanks, Jeremy," Gabe said as he gazed at his sandwich.

  "I wish somebody would look at me like that," Nikki said with a chuckle.

  He looked at Nikki and laughed, a deep rumble that I doubted many people got to hear.

  He turned to Jeremy before he dug in. "I was wrong to focus so hard on you and I wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything. I was wrong about you, but I couldn't seem to separate the past and my personal feelings from my job."

  Jeremy, who had been standing in front of the sheriff like a stiff two by four, relaxed noticeably. He took the sheriff's hand and shook it. "I get it. I was a horrible kid and my past gave you a lot to work with. But I hope you can see I'm a changed man. And I'm really, incredibly sorry about all those stupid mistakes I made back then.” He shook his head as their hands released. “All the people I wronged ... your friend." He shrugged. "But I a was a dumb, irresponsible kid who only focused on the moment and having fun. I never really thought about the consequences back then. Fortunately, I've changed a lot since then."

  Gabe stayed quiet for a few moments, like he was chewing over Jeremy's words.

  Finally, he nodded. "I think we all did a stupid thing or two in our youth. And I suppose I should let the past stay where it belongs, in the rearview mirror.”

  Scout came through the door just then, and the smile that lit his face when he saw me melted my heart. I took a step back for a moment as everybody greeted him and shared the good news. They were a motley bunch, but I wouldn’t trade them for the world, and I couldn’t help but thank whatever force had been guiding me the day I’d found the lodge for sale. I was finally home.

  The End

  What’s next for Toni and crew?

  When a beloved elder of the culinary community turns up dead at a cooking competition, it's up to Toni and her new circle of friends to solve the mystery ... because the sheriff's at the top of the suspect list!

  Reserve your e-copy of Turnover and Die, Book 3 in the Haunted Lodge Cozy Mystery series, by clicking here!

  Thank you!

  I’ve put a lot of love into this novel, as I do with all of them, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. All of my other books contain a little bit of magic along with the humor, but this one was going to be different. This one wasn’t going to have any magic or witches or ghosts, so imagine my surprise when Miss Maisie made an appearance! So, the Haunted Lodge Mystery Series was born. Book 3, Turnover and Die, will be out in June of 2019.

  If you’re looking for something to read while you wait, I’m also including the first chapter of Sweet Murder, Book 1 of 8 in my witches of Keyhole Lake series.

  Happy Reading,

  Tegan ☺

  Sweet Murder

  Sneak Peek of Chapter 1

  USING THE HEM OF MY apron, I pulled the last batch of blueberry turnovers out of the oven and slid them onto the counter to cool. They were an even, golden brown, and a quick poke with a fork assured me the crust was light and flaky.

  Perfect. The customers at Brew4U, my best friend and cousin Raeann's coffee shop, were going to eat them up. And that was good, because right now every few bucks mattered.

  Speaking of money—I glanced at the clock on the microwave, and that cold, I’m-gonna-be-late feeling swept over me. As always, time had gotten away from me while I was baking; I only had about fifteen minutes to get to work. Panicked, I turned the oven off with a wave of my hand, then bolted into the laundry room and pulled my server's apron and work shirt out of the dryer. I changed into the tank top on my way through the living room, grabbed my purse, and bolted out the front door.

  And nearly face-planted when I tripped over our miniature donkey, Max, who was napping at the bottom of the steps.

  "Watch it, you big clod,” he snapped. “Maybe I shall kick you in the head the next time you’re napping." He yawned widely, taking most of the intimidation factor out of the threat.

  "If I were sleeping at the bottom of the steps, I'd expect to get kicked in the head," I said over my shoulder as I recovered and headed toward Bessie, my faded blue, shabby-chic 1984 F-150. Yes, shabby-chic is code for "POS." Don't judge me; it's paid for.

  And yes, the donkey talks, but we'll get to that a little later. Trust me—after you meet him, you'll be glad for the delay.

  I slid into the truck, yelping and lifting my hips when the backs of my thighs hit the searing-hot cracked leather seat. I pushed my apron under my legs and settled back gingerly, then, with an encouraging pat to the dashboard, I cranked the key. Bessie coughed and wheezed a little, but surprised me yet again when she caught and roared to life. Another check in the win column for the day. I backed out of the yard and headed down the driveway to the main road, admiring the late-morning view.

  Even with my window down, the temperature inside the truck was just this side of hellfire, so I reached across the seat and cranked the passenger window down, too. Midsummer in southern Georgia was brutal. The AC in the truck had gone out a few months back and, unfortunately, fixing it didn't even make the top twenty on the laundry list of priorities that demanded a chunk of my check.

  Still, as I rumbled out of the yard and drove past the horses grazing in the pastur
e, I figured I didn’t have a whole lot to complain about in the scheme of things. No matter how many times I traveled our mile-long driveway, I never got tired of it. Ancient oak trees draped with Spanish moss lined both sides, forming a canopy of leaves and limbs, and small patches of sunlight dappled the shaded road.

  I breathed a sigh of relief as I entered the tunnel of shade and the interior of the truck finally dropped below the melting point of flesh.

  Just as I turned onto the main road, I spotted a couple of deer out of the corner of my eye. When I tapped the brakes in case they decided to run out in front of me, the pedal felt spongy. Since my house sat on an overlook outside of town, much of my drive was a steady, winding descent; brakes weren't exactly optional, so I tested them again.

  I was coming up on the first of several hairpin turns, so when the pedal went clear to the floor, so did my heart. Cold fingers of panic raced down my spine as I stomped on it again, then a third time, to no avail. The truck picked up speed, and as I bounced and rattled toward my demise over potholes that now felt like craters, I had only one thought: How on earth was Raeann going to finish raising my hellion of a little sister without strangling her or hexing her into a convent?

  You heard right—I said "hex." We're witches, which you’d think would have come in handy right about then. You'd be right, except I was too freaked out—and busy trying not to die—to pull any magic together.

  I managed to make it around the first curve, but there was another one a quarter-mile ahead. If I dropped off the road there, I would careen about three hundred yards down a steep slope and fly over a cliff into a granite quarry — assuming I didn't meet my maker by smashing headlong into a tree before then.