DIGGIN' UP THE DIRT

by Tonya Kappes

  Just as I hoped, the door on the sign was flipped to open on the door of the small white cottage house that’d been turned into the Sweet Shop. There were two cars in the lot and I pulled into the spot between them. I grabbed a photo of Avon Meyers from the file and stuck it in my back pocket.

  There was a round sidewalk in the front of the shop with a patch of grass in the middle. The small wooden sign mentioned something about dogs and picking up their business. There were small bushes planted around the perimeter of the grass circle with doggie bag stations between some and water bowls between others.

  “Good morning,” I called to the woman who looked up from behind the counter.

  “Hi, there, Sheriff.” A woman in her thirties looked up with a smile on her face. Her hair was tugged up into a hair net. She plucked it off and a massive amount of blonde hair with dark lowlights fell around her shoulders. “I think your dad comes in here a lot.”

  “I think you’re right.” I stepped up to the glass counter. My stomach gurgled. “I can see why.”

  There were rows and rows of donuts.

  “It can be overwhelming. We have several types of donuts.” She went down the line and pointed them out. “Glazed Twists, Long John, Frosted Chocolate, Coconut, Maple Bacon, Jelly, Devil’s Food, Bear Claw, Crumb Cake, Strawberry, Blueberry Cake, Wonut, Baked, Sugar, Frosted Cream, Glazed, Buttermilk, Boston Cream.” She came to the end of that counter and moved to the next. “Maple Bar, Spud Nut, Apple Fritter, Cinnamon Twist, French Cruller, Frosted Vanilla, Croissant Donut, Sugar, and Donut Holes.”

  “Oh my, they all look good.” This was harder than I thought it was going to be. “Maybe you can help me though.”

  “Sure. What is your normal favorite?” She leaned her hip up against the counter. There was some noise coming from the back of the bakery. She noticed me looking past her and said, “That’s one of my bakers. This is just the start of what we have out. I don’t think you need to know what she’s baking back there because you already look overwhelmed. But your father’s favorite is the Maple Bacon.”

  Her fingernail tapped the glass and I peeked at the long donut with maple glaze slathered along it with bacon crumbles on top. Not just any bacon crumbles. Crispy bacon crumbles. Delicious.

  “I bet he does.” I nodded. “He loves bacon and so do I. Perfect choice. I’ll take two.”

  Tom Geary had popped into my head and I knew he’d love one too.

  “Do you want a coffee?” She asked with her back to me. She turned around to get my answer and had one of those black bags like Avon had in her purse.

  “No. I have a coffee from home in the car. I have to be honest though, I also came in here to ask you about Avon Meyers.” I pulled the photo out of my pocket and handed it to her. “She was in here yesterday morning, I think.”

  “She was. Did she come and complain about the shop?” She asked.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” In fact, she had never mentioned her name.

  “Raven Birch.” She ran her hands down her apron with the same logo as the bags and walked around the counter to shake my hand.

  “Raven, I’m Kenni. It’s nice to meet you but I have some unfortunate news.” I put the photo back into my pocket because she’d already confirmed Avon was in there that morning, which would help me get that timeline started. “Avon was killed in the Rock Fence Park yesterday morning after she left here.”

  Raven’s mouth dropped, in obvious shock at the news.

  “Do you recall if anyone was with her?” I asked.

  “No. She came in a few times. She’d buy several bags of donuts.” Raven continued to blink her eyes like she was trying to get her brain to wrap around the news. “She was very nice, and she loved her job.”

  “You talked to her a lot?” I asked wondering how Raven knew Avon loved her job when she had a boss writing her up all the time. Raven walked back behind the counter and put my donuts in the bag.

  “Not really. Just when people come in and buy in bulk, I always ask if it’s for their children or work. She said that she had patients that loved donuts and she’d use them as bribes.” Raven smiled as though it was a fond memory. “Can you imagine your physical therapist trying to get you to bend your knee after a replacement and dangling a donut in your face?”

  “We are all children at heart.” It was a cute story and showed just how much Avon cared for her patients.

  “Do you have the killer in custody?” Her eyes dipped at the edges, her smile had fallen away.

  “No. But I think they were talking over donuts and walking. She had your to-go bag in her purse with some remnants of chocolate icing. What made me think there were more than one donut was how the rings of icing were in separate spots inside of the bag.” I couldn’t wait until I got the report from Max. I’d have a lot more information about Avon’s body and contents to add to the report.

  “She bought three chocolate glazed donuts. I just can’t believe it.” Raven and I both turned around when the bell over the door dinged. She handed me the bag over top the counter and waved at the customer coming into the shop.

  “Do you recall the time?” I asked.

  “Actually.” She grabbed a fistful of receipts from underneath the counter. “I keep a detailed log of what is sold and what didn’t sell by writing down everyone’s order after they leave. I put the time on them because some donuts are more popular in the morning than others. Like the Bear Claws. Those are very popular with the afternoon crowd for an after-supper dessert, while the Cinnamon Twist is the most popular in the morning with coffee.” She didn’t really need to tell me particulars of why or how she ran her business, but it was better than just standing there while she went through a handful of receipts. “And I put them in order.” A big smile crossed her face. “Seven fifteen a.m.” She held out the receipt.

  “Do you mind if I get a picture of that with my phone?” I asked.

  “Not at all.” She slapped the receipt on the counter. I took my phone out from my back pocket and snapped a couple quick photos.

  “I’m sorry we had to meet this way. I love your shop,” I said on moved a little to the right to make room for the other customer to look at the glass bakery counter.

  “If there’s anything else you need, or I remember anything she ever said that might be important, I’ll call you,” she said.

  “Great.” I took some money out of my pocket and a card out of my sheriff’s shirt and handed them to her. “Keep the change for when my dad comes in today.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The moans that escaped my mouth while I was eating the maple bacon donut was not normal. No wonder my dad loved them. I couldn’t believe I had waited so long to try them.

  I sat in the Wagoneer with the full intention of actually writing down everything Raven had told me about what she’d learned about Avon while she was a customer. It wasn’t anything different than what Sebastian had said about her personality that he’d seen as she worked. I would be interviewing a few members of the staff and also some of the therapists in addition to my interview with Reagan, while I was at Cottonwood Acres Rehab.

  I went to reach for my notebook in the pocket of my shirt and realized there was gooey maple glaze smothered on my fingertips. Naturally, I put it in my mouth and licked off every single bit of it, giving me one more good groan of delight. These just might replace my chocolate drizzle and country gravy biscuits from Ben’s. I’d never tell him that though.

  I quickly wrote down that Avon had purchased three donuts on the day she died. Did she eat all three? It was something I could ask Max Bogus when I stopped by to get the autopsy report. This could determine if she’d eaten all of them or had the intention of giving a couple away. It would help determine what might’ve been in Avon’s head. Was she meeting someone and took donuts to them as a good gesture? If that was the case, who did she meet? Was th
at my killer?

  I looked back through my notebook to where I’d gone to Avon’s house with Finn. Based on how my notes stated that her kitchen had healthy food and the fact that she had a healthy physical appearance, I’d bet that she didn’t eat all three donuts. But only Max would for sure be able to tell me that.

  By the time I’d finished writing down what Raven had told me, there was already a line out of the Sweet Shop’s door. Who knew how well they would have taken off in Cottonwood. I was glad. This only added to my plea in hiring a second deputy. With growth of the economy, came more people and citizens. That was a good argument about how that alone would make the crime rate statistics go up.

  The curvy roads leading to Clay’s Ferry were empty. The trees had grown into a canopy overtop the road and filtered out any sort of the new day’s sun. My mind was filled with many things and darted from thought to thought. It was too early for me to call Finn and check on his mom. It was definitely too early for me to call Mama.

  “What’s on our plate today?” Poppa suddenly appeared after I pulled into the parking lot of the lab.

  “Good morning,” I greeted him and pushing the gear shift into park, noticed that Tom Geary wasn’t there yet. I’d have to save his donut for later. “It’s been a busy day. Finn’s mom had a heart attack.”

  “Is she okay?” Poppa asked with furrowed brows.

  “She was talking last night, but her nurse was Reagan Quinlan. She gave me a gut tug, so I think we’ve got something with her. We will find more out when I go talk to her later today.” I reached around the seat and grabbed the evidence bags with Avon’s purse and wallet.

  “Did you tell Finn the theories we came up with?” He asked.

  “No. He was more preoccupied with his mom and when I did point out to him that Reagan was a person of interest, he got kinda mad and said his mom was top priority.” I didn’t blame him. I woulda been the same way. “So, it looks like today, me and you are on our own.”

  “The way I like it.” Poppa’s brows wiggled up and down in a dance.

  “I’ll be right back. Tom isn’t here this early and I’m going to put it in the metal slot next to the door.” Since Tom was a one-man operation, he couldn’t be there all the time so there was a metal slot on the door that you could slide the evidence into. It led to a vault that only he could get into. It was convenient, and I’d never had any problem when dropping things off.

  When I got back into the Wagoneer, Poppa was sitting there with a blank look on his face peering out the windshield.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked.

  “Do you really think these are two separate crimes?” He asked.

  “I’ve gone over that a million times. Is it a coincidence that I caught Rich and Avon arguing? I’ve got a feeling it’s not. I can’t help but wonder if maybe it was Rich she knew something about and that’s why we’re going to see Sheriff Davis in Clay’s Ferry.” I pulled out of the parking lot and headed right into Clay’s Ferry.

  The sheriff’s department was much bigger than ours and was its own building in the town’s precinct district. The area included their courthouse, their department, and their jail. I was jealous that they had an elected jailer position.

  “Are you going?” I asked Poppa and pulled into the parking lot closest to the sheriff’s department. “I’ve got to go to the dispatch and grab the transcript they have on Lita Brumfield and Avon Meyers before I go see Sheriff Davis about Rich’s early release from jail.”

  “I might take a gander around.” He ghosted out of the car and I got out. I left my bag in there since I wasn’t going to need it.

  “Try to find out something good.” I laughed and knew that there probably wasn’t much he could find out since all over our suspects were back in Cottonwood.

  The hours of operation open for public was six thirty a.m. until five p.m. with night shift hours for the dispatch and limited deputies on staff. This was something I needed to bring up at the town council. Then I wouldn’t have to come here to get transcripts for my town.

  “Sheriff, what brings you over here?” I recognized Wilma Gerhding’s voice from when I’d called here before.

  “You’re Wilma.” I offered a smile and walked up to the chest-high counter, placing my elbows on it.

  “The one and only.” She stood up from her chair. She was only about five-foot-tall, petite figure, and short curly red hair that reminded me of an older version of Annie from the movie Annie. There was a pair of glasses hanging down her chest from a chain around her neck. “What can I do you for?”

  “We’ve got a murder investigation.” I started to say.

  “I heard. Anytime there’s a murder, we hear about it.” Her face remained facing forward, but her eyes shifted left and right before she leaned over the counter. “With what’s going on around here, we have to talk about other counties to keep us feeling better.”

  “What’s going on?” I’d been so involved with the cases, that I’d not heard whatever news she was talking about.

  “I can’t believe you haven’t heard about the FBI putting Sheriff Davis on permanent leave.” There was an element of surprise in her tone as if she’d just heard the news too.

  “You’re kidding me?” Immediately, my judge-y side made me think he was guilty of whatever it was.

  “Not a bit. He was helping out a drug lord.” She shrugged. “I’ve heard that it did have something to do with that guy from your town.” She snapped her fingers. “Fiddle faddle. I can’t remember his name.” She held up a finger and turned on the balls of her feet.

  She picked up the phone and pushed a bunch of numbers. She curled her small hand around the receiver and whispered into it before she hung it back up.

  “Rich Moss.”

  “My Rich Moss?” Things had just become very interesting.

  “Mmmhmmm. I don’t know what he had to do with Rich Moss, but I hear it ain’t good. He even let him go on good behavior.” She wagged her finger. “That was a no-no. Last night the prosecutor put a warrant out for the judge to sign this morning when he gets in to put Rich Moss back behind bars.”

  My stomach lurked.

  “I’m assuming you aren’t here for that.” Her eyes snapped.

  “No, but that’s good information. I’m here to see about getting the transcripts from my area from a call from Lita Brumfield. The young woman murdered has history with Mrs. Brumfield calling dispatch after hours. They’ve had neighborly disputes for a year or so and a lot of calls.”

  “Lita.” When she said Lita’s name, she dragged it out while typing. I watched her eyes scan the screen. “We’ve got a separate input for Cottonwood and she’s called a ton.” Her tongue outlined her lips and her fingers continued to tap on the keyboard. “Print.”

  The printer behind her started to spit out paper into the tray. She reached around and grabbed them.

  “Here you go.” She laid them on the counter. “It looks like she’s called at least once a month.” Her finger drew down the date column. “Pretty silly stuff too.” She tapped the header under causation and laughed. “She claimed the young girl’s car was an inch over the property line in front of the house.” She shook her head in disbelief.

  “You have no idea.” My eyes glazed over the paper. I’d take much more time when I got back to the office to go over them.

  “Kenni, bug.” Poppa appeared in the doorway leading out to the hall that connected to the courthouse. He sounded out of breath. “You’ve got to come here fast.”

  “Thank you so much. And it was nice to put a name to the face.” I smiled. “You’ve been so kind over the past few years and I truly do appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” She went back to her chair.

  “Come on!” Poppa screamed at me. “Look.”

  I followed his arm down to his pointed finger and in the distance, I saw a man in
street clothes who looked like Finn.

  There must’ve been a strange look on my face because Poppa confirmed what I was thinking.

  “Yep. That’s your deputy with the city commissioner.” Poppa nodded.

  I gulped and watched them disappear into an office. Finn didn’t see me. My phone chirped a text from my back pocket. I grabbed it. Anything to get my mind off what I’d just seen. It was Katy Lee Hart. She asked me to call her when I had time. She’d gotten some information about the cuff links and their value for me.

  Instead of heading down to the commissioner’s office, I trotted back to get some information from Wilma.

  “You’re back.” Wilma grinned.

  “Wilma, did you say the sheriff’s position is open?” I asked.

  “Mmmhmmm,” Her chin lifted up and then down in a dramatic way. “The commissioner is interviewing candidates all day today. Some big wig from the Kentucky State Reserve is in there now. They’re really impressed with his resume.”

  Her words were like a sword stabbing my heart. Had Finn really come to interview for the job and not tell me about it?

  I tapped the counter with a couple quick pats.

  “Thanks, I’ll be sure to keep my eyes peeled and send any candidates your way.” There was a smile on my face that covered up the heart breaking in my chest.

  The more I thought about what I’d seen, the angrier I got.

  “How could he?” I beat the stirring wheel with the palm of my hand, taking the curves back into Cottonwood with a heavier footed than I should. “I was even going to see the sheriff about Rich, but not now.”

  “Kenni bug, slow down.” Poppa had his hand curled around the door handle. His ghost knuckles were whiter than usual. “You’ve got to settle down before you see him. Your head has to be on straight. We’ve got a big day ahead.” He repeated what I’d told him earlier. “What are your thoughts?”

  “My thoughts?” I snorted. “They are jumbled. Why on Earth wouldn’t Finn tell me anything about Clay’s Ferry? What else do I not know about him?”