Rest in Split Peas

by Hillary Avis

  “Maybe when he’s done interviewing Ben, he’d have a few minutes to taste the soup,” Kimmy said reassuringly.

  Bethany shrugged. “He will or he won’t. I’m not going to waste energy worrying about him.” It was a lie, but her pride wouldn’t let her admit how much she wanted that food feature. Kimmy didn’t say anything, but her look was knowing.

  Now that she wasn’t on the lookout for Milo, Bethany noticed someone else was missing from the crowd. She gasped. Of course.

  “Is it time?” Kimmy asked.

  Bethany nodded. She caught Charley’s attention and flashed her an “OK” sign. “I think so. Can you hold down the fort while I go check?”

  “Of course,” Kimmy said confidently, in full sous-chef mode. “Go get ’em.”

  Bethany untied her apron and, after stashing it under the table, walked quickly toward the hall to the stationmaster’s office. She checked both restrooms on the way—empty.

  She put her ear to the door of Ben’s office and could hear someone rifling through the desk drawers. It was really happening. The killer had taken the bait and was trying to steal the check! She put her hand on the knob and slowly pushed the door open. The figure inside froze. Bethany scanned for a weapon and then breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t see one. She stepped inside the office. “Looking for something?”

  Jen straightened, tucking a slip of paper into the purse under her arm. “I just thought I dropped my earring in here.” She stepped toward the door, but Bethany blocked her way.

  “You dropped your earring inside Ben’s desk?”

  Jen shrugged, her eyes darting around the room. “Maybe. You never can tell. They were my grandmother’s, so I’d hate—”

  “You can stop lying. One, you’re wearing both earrings. And two, you’re in here to steal the restoration fund check. I knew it would be you. Charley—Officer Perez—wasn’t sure, so we set a trap. But deep down, I knew you were the only one who could have killed Marigold.”

  Something in Jen’s face changed, and she sighed. “How’d you figure it out?”

  Bethany pointed to the sparkly handbag on Jen’s arm. “The purse. There just wasn’t enough time for you to swap handbags on the morning of the murder. Plus, I know Marigold wouldn’t have given away her bedazzled beauty for a plain black bag, no matter what the designer label was inside.”

  Jen chuckled humorlessly. “I guess you knew her well. But you’re wrong—I was in the restroom the whole time. You saw me go in there.”

  “I think you had Trevor’s keys, and you used them to access the maintenance tunnel in the men’s room. You went down to the platform, grabbed that purse”—Bethany motioned to the handbag on Jen’s arm again—“and pushed Marigold onto the tracks. Then you ran back through the tunnel to the men’s room. You realized that having two purses would look suspicious, so you threw away your own purse with Trevor’s keys inside, and went back to the kiosk to serve split pea soup. You must have been disappointed when you realized the check wasn’t in Marigold’s purse.”

  The corner of Jen’s mouth twitched. “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “So this was just about the money? I’ve been wracking my brain to figure out why someone would kill their own cousin. Fifty thousand dollars doesn’t seem worth it. Even if Marigold was obnoxious, she was your family!”

  Jen’s face slowly turned a dark purple-red. She finally spat out, “She wasn’t my family. She was me!”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “I’m not her cousin, Nancy Drew. I’m Marigold. This purse, with the ‘M.W.’? It was mine first. She stole it from me. Along with my name, my appearance, my credit cards, and my smoothie concept. It’s taken me six months to track her down. I wouldn’t have known it had happened if she hadn’t registered to vote in my name! When I tried to vote in the special election this winter, they wouldn’t let me cast my ballot. Then the creditors started calling.”

  Bethany shook her head. “Wait, what? Is that why she had your social security card in her bra?”

  Jen rapped on the desk with her knuckles. “Knock knock, wake up. It’s not my social security card!” She pulled the card out of her purse and flicked it toward Bethany. “Look at it—what does it say?”

  “Jennifer Smith,” Bethany read dutifully.

  “Right—not me. That was her social security card in her bra. She wasn’t on that platform to meet Aaron’s train. She was making a run for it—with the money she owed me.”

  “Why did she owe you money?” Bethany glanced toward the door. Where was Charley? She hoped her friend was listening to the conversation, because she was already confused.

  “She racked up over fifty grand in credit card debt in my name and didn’t pay any of it. I’ve had collections people calling me night and day. I finally got a copy of the charges and noticed most of them were here in Newbridge, and it didn’t take long to find her, considering she was using my name! So I came to make her pay her own bills. They’re threatening to take my business!”

  Realization dawned on Bethany. “So you told her she needed to give you fifty grand—”

  “Fifty-three, to be exact.”

  “And you were there when Ben said he’d gotten the donation to the restoration fund in almost that exact amount. So you told her to get that money any way she could, or you’d expose her whole deal and send her to jail.”

  “Bingo. If she went to jail, I’d still have to untangle the whole mess.” Jen—Marigold, Bethany mentally corrected—tried to push past her again, but Bethany stood firm.

  “Couldn’t you just say it wasn’t you who made the charges?”

  Jen smirked. “You don’t think I’ve tried? They have security camera footage from the bank where she’s been taking out cash advances. She looks like me, honey! The only way I can get rid of this debt is to declare bankruptcy or pay it off. I thought the latter was a better option.”

  “So you didn’t care that she was blackmailing Ben to get the money?”

  Jen stared at her like she was crazy. “Why should I care? First off, it’s not even his money. Plus, it’s up to her to pay me back however she can. She stole from me. If she has consequences, then they’re deserved.”

  “Why did you decide to kill her, though? Now you’ll never get the money.” Bethany looked over her shoulder again, willing Charley to come through the door. Jen’s eyes were wild, and Bethany began to be afraid of what she might do to get out of the office.

  “I didn’t decide. It just happened. She gave me Trevor’s keys to return and told me she was going to the bank and then meeting Aaron’s train on the way back. I believed her”—Jen laughed bitterly—“because apparently I’m gullible. But while I was waiting at her soup stand, I looked over at your kiosk and remembered that she’d dyed her hair the same color as yours that night after the poker game. She knew as soon as I showed up that she was going to make a run for it. She was never going to give me that check.”

  Bethany gaped. “I made you decide to kill her?”

  “I told you, I didn’t decide. You just made me realize that she was stealing your identity just like she’d stolen mine. Of course, she planned to spend a little longer doing it, practicing your recipes and perfecting the look, before she took off. I guess she needed to find a new victim once my credit cards were maxed out, and she chose you. You’re lucky, you know. I saved you from becoming me.” Jen absentmindedly ran her hands over the pen set on Ben’s desk.

  Charley, get in here! Bethany screamed inside her head. What could be keeping her? Had Charley misread her signal and stayed at the memorial? Or was she waiting for another reason? Realization dawning, Bethany groaned internally. Charley was waiting for a confession. Bethany needed to get Jen—she’d given up on remembering her name was really Marigold—to say what she’d done.

  “So when Trevor asked you about his keys, you told him you didn’t have them?”

  Jen nodded. “I almost handed them to him, but then when he said he needed them to access
the maintenance tunnels, I realized I could use the tunnels to get down to the platform and get the check from her before the train came.”

  “So that’s when you decided to kill her.”

  “No.” Jen’s mouth was in a tight line. “I still thought I could convince her to give me the money.”

  “Then why not take the stairs down to the platform? You chose the tunnels because you wanted plausible deniability. You wanted an escape route.”

  Jen waved her hand, dismissing Bethany’s theory. “It’s not a crime to have a plan B.”

  “Um, it kinda is if plan B is murder!”

  “It was an accident,” Jen said stubbornly. “I grabbed her purse—my purse, by the way. You have no idea how annoying it was to see her flashing it around with my initials on it. She tried to hang onto it, but I pulled harder, and she fell backward off the platform. It was just bad luck that the train came at that moment. I didn’t even stay to watch.”

  “You went back through the tunnel,” Bethany said. “And out of the men’s restroom. You and Ben must have just missed each other. Then you realized having two purses looked suspicious, so you dumped the black purse with Trevor’s keys in it into the trash can. And you were back at the soup kiosk before anyone noticed you’d been gone. It wasn’t until then that you realized the check wasn’t in the purse.”

  Jen nodded. “I was shaking so badly, I could hardly serve customers, but then Aaron got off the train and found me, and that calmed me down.”

  “Does he know you’re a murderer?” The words slipped out before Bethany realized how incendiary they were.

  Jen’s rage boiled over. She grabbed the glass paperweight from Ben’s desk and charged at Bethany. “I told you, I didn’t kill her on purpose!”

  Bethany ducked as Jen swing the paperweight at her head. “If you didn’t mean to do it”—she ducked again as the heavy object whizzed by her forehead—“let’s just go tell the police it was an accident. Mar—Jen provoked you, stole from you...” She crouched, panting, waiting for the woman’s next move.

  Jen gripped the paperweight so hard her knuckles were white. “I just want my life back, and I can’t get it back without this check. I’m going to walk out this door, get on a train, go back to Santa Cruz, get married to Aaron, and live a regular life!”

  “I can’t let you take that money. It belongs to the station.” Bethany’s eyes were trained on the makeshift weapon.

  “And I can’t let you leave this room, knowing what you know, until I can get away. I’m sorry I have to do this. I’ll try to just knock you out, not kill you, but no promises.” Jen stepped toward Bethany and swung again, but she was too slow; Bethany jumped out of the way.

  “Look at the check! It’s not even real—it’s a decoy. The real check is already in the bank, in the historic restoration fund.”

  Jen set the paperweight on the desk and reached into her purse. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Bethany dove for the object and sent it flying onto the floor. “Charley!” she yelled, as Jen grabbed her by the bun on top of her head.

  The door flew open, and Charley barreled into the room, gun drawn. “Drop her! Now!”

  Jen released her grip on Bethany’s hair, and Bethany stood, rubbing her scalp.

  “Drop the purse, too,” Charley growled, “and turn around and put your hands on the desk.” Jen reluctantly obeyed.

  “Did you hear her confess?” Bethany asked breathlessly. She scooted the pen set on Ben’s desk out of Jen’s reach, and Jen glared at her.

  “Yup,” Charley said, as she clasped handcuffs around Jen’s wrists. “Jen Smith, you are—ugh, let me try that again. Marigold Wonder, you are under arrest.” She looked over at Bethany and shook her head. “I am never going to get that straight.”

  Charley finished reading Jen her rights, picked up the purse, radioed the police station for a squad car, and escorted Jen out. Bethany followed behind. As she passed the door to the women’s restroom, she ripped down the out-of-order sign. Charley tried to hustle Jen outside as fast as she could, but Kimmy spotted them right away, and her mouth fell open in surprise. She elbowed Garrett and pointed, and he almost dropped his tongs on the floor.

  Bethany hurried over to the food service table. “Can you believe it?”

  Kimmy shook her head. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but I’m so glad it wasn’t one of our friends.”

  “She was such a nice girl, though,” Garrett said, frowning. “She and Olive really hit it off.”

  “You know what Olive says. Desperate people do stupid things. Oh, look!” Bethany pointed. Aaron had spotted Jen leaving Newbridge Station in handcuffs and was sprinting after her. “I don’t think he knows. He really did arrive on the 10:55 that killed Marigold—argh, I mean Jen Smith.”

  Kimmy blinked. “What? I think you better break that down for me.”

  Bethany nodded, scanning the room. “Where’s Olive?” Spotting her, she waved her arm, beckoning her over to join them. She motioned to Ben, too. “I only want to explain this once.”

  “What about Milo?” Kimmy asked. “He’ll want to know.”

  Bethany grinned at her. “I guess if he wants to know, he’ll have to come talk to me on his own.”

  “It’s almost time for the service to start,” Olive said, joining them. She patted Ben’s arm as he walked up. “Ben’s going to speak first, and then Jen will say a few words, and—”

  Bethany stopped her. “Jen’s been arrested. Or rather, Marigold has been. That’s why I called you both over. This whole thing is because Jen stole Marigold’s identity.”

  Ben shook his head, confused. “Before or after she was killed?”

  “Charley arrested Jen for identity theft? Then who killed Marigold?” Kimmy asked.

  “Let me start over—I didn’t explain myself well. The person we knew as Marigold was really named Jennifer Smith. She stole the identity of a woman named Marigold Wonder, whom we know as Jen. The fake Marigold racked up over fifty thousand dollars worth of debt in the real Marigold’s name. And then the real Marigold tracked her down to try and recoup the money, which is why the fake Marigold blackmailed Ben for the restoration fund check.”

  “Whoa!” Kimmy said. “I did not see that coming. So Jen—I mean, the real Marigold—pushed the fake Marigold in front of a train? Why?”

  “Once our Marigold knew the real Marigold was onto her, she decided to run off with the money rather than giving it away. She was probably planning to leave soon, anyway...”

  “Of course! That’s why she dyed her hair the same color as yours”—Olive gestured to Bethany’s head as she spoke—“and started making soup. She was turning herself into Bethany Bradstreet. Oh, poor Jen—I mean, poor real Marigold. She is such a nice woman, Bethany. I wish you could have gotten to know her.”

  Bethany snorted, remembering how Jen had swung the glass paperweight at her head. “Well, not that nice, because when she figured out that the fake Marigold was planning to leave on the 10:55, she went down to the platform to confront her. She might not have planned to kill her, but she was willing to do it—and she did. And she was also willing to let Ben go to jail for it, even though she knew he didn’t do it.”

  “Can’t believe we fed her waffles this morning,” Garrett muttered. “A murderer in our house.”

  Kimmy looked at him sympathetically. “Don’t feel bad. This whole situation has taught me that one bad act doesn’t mean a person is all bad. It can mean they were stupid or careless or desperate in that moment. The real Marigold has to pay the price for her actions, but we don’t have to hate her for killing our Marigold. We can just be sad for both of them.”

  “Very true, Kimmy.” Olive squeezed Kimmy’s shoulders with one arm.

  “I can hate her a little,” Ben said darkly. “I did not enjoy my time in the clink.”

  Olive’s forehead creased. “Ben, honey, what are you going to say now? If you don’t want to give a speech, I understand. We can just ask for a moment of silence
.”

  Ben shook his head. “No, everything I was going to say is still true, even if Marigold’s not the person I thought she was. Let’s get this memorial started.”

  Bethany stayed with Kimmy at the food service table as Olive, Garrett, and Ben walked to the front of the audience, and the noisy crowd settled down into a low murmur.

  “The soup was a huge hit,” Kimmy whispered. “We’re down to the bottom of the pot, and I think people would have eaten those breadcrumbs with a spoon if we’d had more of them. Marigold would have definitely copied this one.”

  Bethany looked over at her friend and grinned. “Good. That was goal—make something worth stealing.” She stopped talking when Ben moved to the microphone and tapped it, clearing his throat.

  “Friends,” he said, spreading his hands to welcome the hundred or so people who filled the benches. “We gather here to remember the woman we knew as Marigold Wonder.”

  Nice sidestep on the whole identity theft thing, Bethany thought.

  “I can’t give you her life history because I don’t know it. But I knew her as a friend, and I can tell you—she was exciting. She lit up any room she entered, even a room as big as this one.” Ben motioned, taking in the vaulted ceiling of the concourse. “If you met her, you never forgot her. Not her name, not her face, not the energy she brought with her everywhere. She had hardship, as we all do, but Marigold took what was good in life and left the rest. We can all follow in her example. We can all shine a little brighter. So I ask you, instead of mourning her, to enjoy your life. Breathe deeper. Love more. Learn from the people around you. Drive the long way because it’s more beautiful. Plant flowers instead of grass.”

  Bethany smiled. Put some glitter on it.

  Ben continued. “That’s what Marigold would do, and for all the things she got wrong, that was something she got right.” He stepped back from the mic.

  Bethany felt her throat tighten, and when she glanced at Kimmy, she saw tears in her friend’s eyes, too. Olive stepped to the mic and requested a moment of silence, and they both bowed their heads along with the rest of the crowd. When Bethany raised hers again, she saw Milo heading for her table, an eager look on his face.