Caramel Killer: A Pumpkin Hollow Mystery, book 12

by Kathleen Suzette

  “I’d probably use that excuse too,” I agreed. “Of course, I’m not going to kill anybody, so I don’t have to come up with an excuse like that.”

  “And see that you don’t ever kill anyone,” he said and took a sip of his iced tea.

  “The thing is, Fagan never got the misspelled medallions. I talked to Gina Van and she said Fagan never got around to picking up the medallions. Someone had discovered them and got the corrected ones ordered before he could pick them up, so I don’t think it came from Fagan’s pocket. He could have picked it up from another merchant, but I’m betting he didn’t. It could still belong to a tourist, but maybe it belonged to the killer.”

  He nodded, taking a closer look at it. “It’s possible. It doesn’t hurt to try to run fingerprints on it.”

  I took a sip of my iced tea. “What do you think about Sonia Perrins?” I asked him. “She seems terribly disinterested in Fagan’s death.”

  “I don’t think that’s a reason to suspect her of murder. I’m sure lots of people are disinterested in his death, but I do know that she called the police out a couple of times and complained about him.”

  “Really? What kind of complaints?”

  “She claimed he threatened her. But when we got there and questioned both of them, it turned out that he was angry about her parking in front of his store and he warned her, saying she would be sorry. No specific threats were ever made.”

  “I can’t believe she called the police over that,” I said. “I mean, first of all, it's public parking. Second of all, if she would have just parked over a few spaces in front of her own store he wouldn’t have had anything to complain about. But I really can’t see Fagan seriously threatening anyone.”

  “I agree. And that’s what I told her when I went out on one of the calls. It was kind of silly and a waste of my time and I told her as much. Why? Do you think there’s a possibility she killed him?”

  “Gina is suspicious of her. I don’t think there’s really enough reason to suspect her though. I talked to Sonia for a few minutes, but she really didn’t have much to say, other than she and Fagan argued over a water bill.”

  “I can stop in and talk to her tomorrow to see what she has to say,” he said. “It doesn’t sound promising though.”

  “You know what I forgot? Now that we’re talking about Sonia, the day we found Fagan’s body I stopped by the costume shop and it was closed. She was sweeping the sidewalk in front of the bookstore and I asked her if she had seen him. She said she hadn’t. But she also said he had a cabin in the woods that he was going to visit that weekend. Do you think there’s any chance that’s where he was headed and that’s why he was in the woods?”

  “His wife didn’t mention any cabin or that he would be heading out into the woods for any reason. She was perplexed that he was found there, but it’s definitely something to look into.”

  “If you continue down the highway and then take that narrow, paved road a few miles outside of town, it leads to some cabins out in the woods. I wonder if that’s where his cabin is?” I took a sip of my iced tea, thinking this over.

  “Probably so,” he said. “I’ll have to talk to his wife again.”

  We looked up and saw Jessica Danforth approaching our table. She smiled at us and stopped at our table. “Well, fancy meeting you two here.”

  I glanced at Ethan. He smiled. “Hello Jessica, how are you this afternoon?”

  She nodded. “I’m doing great. I know you’re investigating Fagan’s murder, and I thought I would come over here and tell you exactly what I know.” She glanced at me and smiled. “Hello, Mia.”

  “Hello Jessica,” I said. Jessica was a local busybody, so it didn’t surprise me she came over to tell Ethan what she had heard.

  “What do you know?” Ethan asked her.

  “Well,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. Jessica had a flair for the dramatic. “I happen to know that he made an enemy of the dogcatcher. I think the dogcatcher killed him.”

  Ethan stared at her, a look of stunned surprise on his face. “Oh? I don’t think the dogcatcher is armed.”

  “That’s true,” she said. “But I’m sure he could have gotten ahold of a gun if he needed to. And if it wasn’t the dogcatcher, then it was his wife. The two of them hated each other.”

  “How do you know they hated each other?” Ethan asked her.

  “Everyone knows that. They hated each other since the second grade when Fagan stole Janna’s Twinkie out of her lunchbox. I worked as a substitute teacher at Pumpkin Hollow Primary, so that’s how I know about it.”

  Jessica was also a little eccentric.

  I glanced at Ethan and he was still looking at her with that same surprised look.

  “Oh,” Ethan said slowly. “I guess I didn’t know that.”

  She nodded again. “But one thing I want you to know, is that I did not do it.”

  “That’s good to know,” Ethan said, suppressing a smile. “I’m glad you came over to tell me that.”

  She nodded. “Well, I’ve got to run. I’ll talk to the two of you later.”

  I stared at Ethan and when she was out of earshot he started laughing, trying to cover the sound with his hand.

  “It isn’t funny. Janna has really resented him all these years for stealing her Twinkie,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

  “Can you blame her? I love Twinkies. I’d kill somebody if they stole mine.”

  I chuckled. “I wonder what brought that on?”

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. But I’m starving and I hope they bring my burger soon. I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “I second that,” I said.

  I doubted Janna had killed her husband. She seemed to be grieving him and I had never thought there was any trouble between the two of them, twinkie or no.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Mia, I’m getting ready to go home for the day,” Carrie Green said. “Is there anything else you need me to do before I leave?”

  I shook my head. “No, I think everything’s taken care of. You go on home and have a good day.”

  She grinned. “Thanks, I will.”

  I was putting a fresh batch of peanut butter fudge into the display case when Jeff Lukens walked into the shop. I smiled at him. He was exactly the person I wanted to talk to. Ever since Fagan’s wife had said he was the killer I had been looking for an opportunity to speak to him. The problem was that I didn’t know where he worked, and I’d had no luck in running into him around town.

  “Hi Jeff,” I said as I set the tray inside the display case and closed the door. “How are you today?”

  He nodded and grinned. “Hi Mia, I’m doing great,” he said, walking up to the display case. “I see you just put a fresh batch of my very favorite flavor of fudge into it.”

  “Peanut butter is one of my favorites, too,” I said. “Especially when my mother makes it.”

  “Is your mother still making pumpkin spice fudge?” he asked, one eyebrow raised. “That’s my second favorite. Or maybe peanut butter fudge is my favorite when there isn’t any pumpkin spice, and I don’t see any in there.”

  “No, she stopped making it when the Halloween season ended. I have suggested to her that she keep making it year-round since Pumpkin Hollow is a Halloween themed town, but she thought it wouldn’t be as special if it was available every day. She has a point I guess, but I sure do miss it when it’s gone.” I leaned on the front counter as he looked into the display case.

  “Well, I can’t argue with her there,” he said, looking over the offerings. “I love it too, but I guess I’ll have to wait until Pumpkin Hollow Days come around again. Why don’t you give me a quarter pound of the peanut butter fudge and four of the white chocolate truffles?”

  “You got it,” I said and pulled out the tray of fudge. “It was a shame what happened to Fagan, wasn’t it? Aren’t you a friend of his?” I cut a piece of fudge and put it on the scale.

  He frowned. “Yes, we were be
st friends nearly all our lives. We met in the fifth grade and immediately struck up a friendship. I just can’t get over it. Fagan was a good guy, everyone liked him.” He shook his head. “It still doesn’t seem real.”

  “Fagan really was a nice guy,” I said and as I wrapped up his fudge. “I feel terrible for his wife. What a terrible thing to have to go through.”

  He nodded. “I can’t imagine it. My wife died of cancer seven years ago, but that was different. It was after a lengthy illness and as terrible as it was, I expected it. But Fagan being murdered? No way was I expecting that.”

  “The fact that he was murdered makes it all the worse,” I said. I got his truffles for him and put them into a paper bag with the fudge.

  “Has Ethan had any luck in finding his killer?” He leaned on the front counter as I rang up his candy.

  “He’s still working on it,” I said. “It’s early in the investigation yet. Do you have any ideas who might have killed him?”

  He looked away for a moment, then turned back to me. “Honestly? If I were to take a guess, I’d say it was Dave Jennings. Do you know him?”

  I thought about it a moment. “Doesn’t he own the glass shop?” The glass shop was where they made windows, among other things. My mother had a glass-top table that had cracked, and he had made a replacement tabletop for her.

  “Yes, he owns the glass shop. He also owns those cabins outside of town. Do you know where they are?”

  “The ones that are down that narrow paved road off the highway?”

  He nodded. “Yes, those are the ones. He and Fagan didn’t get along and I just have a feeling about him.”

  “What do you mean they didn’t get along?”

  He shrugged. “Fagan made a football bet with Dave. When he lost, he refused to pay up. Dave was after him to pay up, but as far as I know, he never did.”

  “Was it for a lot of money?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah, he owed Dave four thousand dollars.”

  I gasped. “Four thousand dollars? Are you kidding?”

  He grinned. “I wouldn’t kid about that. The truth is, Fagan had a gambling problem, and he didn’t want his wife to know about it. He lost an awful lot of bets and I can’t help but wonder if he lost to the wrong bookie. Namely, Dave Jennings. I warned Fagan not to mess around with him, but he thought he could talk his way out of it.”

  “So, is Dave an actual bookie? Does he do that on the side?” I set the paper bag on the counter between us. Mom had bought some bags that had cute cartoon turkeys printed on them.

  “I guess he does unofficially. But then, all bookies are unofficial. It’s not something he wants getting around. The police might have some questions for him if it does. They were friends once, but I think Fagan stiffed him one time too many.”

  “Was he losing big bets like that all the time?” I asked.

  “Not always. Sometimes he won big. Once it was almost twenty thousand dollars. He kept that from his wife, of course. If she knew, she’d hit the roof. I’m pretty sure he gambled that money away though. He didn’t hang onto money for long.”

  He paid for his candy and I handed him his change.

  “It sounds like he was in big trouble then. How could his wife not have known about the gambling?”

  “He has a couple of separate bank accounts. She probably should know about them now that he’s gone, but I’m not going to be the one to tell her.” He picked up the paper bag but didn’t make a move to leave.

  “Why aren’t you going to tell her?”

  He snorted. “Janna can’t stand me. She’s always thought she was better than everyone else and I just don’t measure up. What do I care if she knows whether he has money in those bank accounts? Let the state take it when it isn’t claimed.”

  I remembered what she had told me about Jeff. “Jeff, how was your relationship with Fagan? Recently, I mean.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Why? Did she say something about me?”

  I shrugged. “I just wondered is all.”

  He shook his head. “We got along just fine. Occasionally we had arguments, but who doesn’t? He was always making stupid bets, and I told him so. If he would have been more conservative on the size and quantity of them, he wouldn’t have been in as big a mess as he was.”

  “So he had a lot of money troubles?”

  He nodded. “Sure did. If you have a gambling problem, then you’ve got money problems.”

  That made sense. “You mentioned Dave owning cabins. Did Fagan own a cabin, too?”

  “No, he didn’t own his own cabin. He would go there by himself sometimes though. Dave gave him a key. I don’t know what he told his wife, but he would spend weekends there watching football games so he wouldn’t be bothered by her. She was a nag, as you can imagine.” He chuckled. “The joke’s on her. He’d hide out at one of those cabins and place his bets in peace.”

  I looked at him, putting this all together. “Why would Dave give him a key if their relationship had suffered?”

  “Fagan had a key for several years now. Dave wanted to keep his biggest customer happy. Fagan didn't have to pay anything for the use of the cabin. The falling out they’d had was more recent.”

  “Is there a chance he was going to the cabins the night he died?” I asked.

  “He disappeared on a Wednesday evening. There wasn’t a game on that night. I don’t know why he would go there that night.”

  “Do you have any idea why his body was found out in the woods, then?”

  He thought about it. “No. Could be the killer took him out there and dumped him.”

  I didn’t think that was the case since Ethan had found a shell casing where Fagan lay, but I couldn’t tell him that. “Okay. I just wondered. I feel bad that he was killed like that.”

  “Me too. I hope Ethan finds his killer soon. But maybe mention to him that he should talk to Dave. I think he’ll find out some interesting things about both him and Fagan.”

  “Like?” I asked.

  He shrugged, a smug look on his face. “Tell him to talk to him. Thanks for the candy.” He picked up the bag and headed to the door.

  I watched him go, wondering what Dave was up to. Ethan and I needed to check out those cabins, but I didn’t know which one Fagan had a key to.

  I texted Ethan and asked him to stop by the candy store when he got a chance. Jeff might have thought Fagan wouldn’t have been at that cabin that night, but what other reason was there that he was killed in the woods?

  Chapter Twelve

  “You shouldn’t be here with me,” Ethan said as we drove out of town.

  “I know. But I’m here anyway.” I grinned. I had told him what Jeff said about the cabins outside of town. It just so happened that Fagan had had a single key on a bare keyring in his pocket when he died. It made me curious. It also made Ethan curious. Was it a key to a cabin? Or some other mysterious building, shed, barn, or whatever? I didn’t know, but we were about to find out.

  “Who has a private cabin they use that their bookie owns?” he asked.

  “Apparently, Fagan does. Or did. At least, according to Jeff. It’s weird, but he claims Fagan had a terrible gambling habit and it was beneficial for his bookie to keep him close by.”

  “That’s a possibility. I’d like to know where Fagan got the money to bet like that if that’s the case. We’ll see.”

  “Are you going to just stick that key into every cabin door until you find one it opens?” I asked.

  He glanced at me and smiled. “I could get into big trouble doing that. You don’t want me to get into trouble, do you?”

  “No, but I do want to see what’s going on in that cabin. How about if you figure out which cabin it belongs to, and we rent it from Dave. Then we’d have all the time we needed to investigate and look for evidence,” I suggested.

  He laughed. “We don’t need evidence that won’t be admissible in court. In fact, it would really stink if we found condemning evidence in there and we couldn
’t use it to put the killer behind bars.”

  “Ah. You’re right, that would stink. So what are we going to do, then?”

  “Check and see if Dave is there and see if he’ll let us into the cabin.”

  “Without a search warrant?”

  “Without a search warrant,” he said. “We don’t have enough evidence to get a search warrant, so I’m going to try being nice. Being nice gets you things sometimes.”

  “But won’t it give him the chance to clean things up if you ask and he refuses?”

  “It’s been over a week since Fagan was killed. He’s cleaned it if he died in the cabin. It could have happened there, but I’m betting it didn’t. What I’m looking for is anything Fagan might have left behind that might indicate what he was doing there. Another piece of the puzzle.”

  “All right,” I said. If we could find enough pieces of the puzzle, we could put this thing together and put it to rest. I hoped Ethan was right about finding that piece. “Have you found out anything else about his death?”

  He glanced at me. “He had high levels of alcohol in his system.”

  “Huh. Where was his car?”

  “We found it further down the road. The driver’s side door was left open,” he said.

  We pulled into the clearing in front of the cabins and parked. The cabins butted up to a small man-made lake that was stocked with fish every year. The cabins were close together, but far enough apart to not feel like a motel.

  “Is that him?” I asked. There was a man with his back to us. He was sweeping the steps of one of the cabins.

  “I think so,” he said. “Let me do the talking.”

  I shot him a look. I had no problem letting him do the talking. At least I didn’t think I did, but if I thought of something, I was probably going to ask it.

  We got out of his truck and headed over to the man. When he heard us walking up behind him, he turned around and looked at us and smiled uncertainly. “Hi folks,” he said, nodding. “What can I help you with?”