Rory, Maisie, Riya and I walked up to my parents’ house and found my mother pulling groceries out of bags when we got there.
“Can we help?” Rory asked when we walked inside.
“Sure can.”
“What is Dad making?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise.” My mother winked, a big smile on her face. She was my dad’s biggest cheerleader. “Now come on, help me set the table.”
The table was a twelve-foot hand-carved, live edge one that had been specially made when my parents remodeled after they became empty nesters. The dining area was right aside of the open concept kitchen and attached family room. Too much space for them, as was the rest of the five-bedroom home, but I’d never heard them say they needed or wanted to downsize.
We were laughing and giggling when I heard the first of family trickle in.
“Hey!” came the voice from up front and a few seconds later Bobby appeared at the doorway to the kitchen. He was standing there grinning. He had a knapsack over his shoulder and across his body, and his hands were filled big sheets of white poster boards.
“What are you doing, Bobby?” my mother said and pointed at the boards.
“This is for after dinner,” he said. “Instead of playing games.”
“Well, if it’s for after dinner, we don’t need it here now,” she said.
“I’d been meaning to talk to you anyway,” I said as he came in, remembering Mr. Mason. Who, now that I thought about it, hadn’t showed up like I asked. At least while I was there.
Bobby was the only medical member of the family who didn’t have a big practice and a big bank account. A nurse practitioner, he ran the community clinic and had recruited my dad and Riya to help out at it on their days off.
“And you can talk after dinner, too,” my mother said.
“Hey, Mama,” Bobby said and went over and kissed her. “Stop fussing. I’ll put this stuff right over here.” He headed to a corner of the dining area.
“Nope. Not in my kitchen.” She shook her head. “Put them in the mudroom.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and winked at me. “Hey, Maisie. Riya.” He nodded his hellos. “And who is this?” He looked at Rory.
“My friend from New York,” I said.
“Oh, okay,” he said. I was sure somehow he already knew she was the one with the bloody shoes.
“Put that paper up,” my mother said again. “It’s time to start cooking.”
“I’m going! I’m going!” He chuckled.
“My brother Bobby,” I said to Rory as if she hadn’t figured that out. “I’m going to talk to him about Mr. Mason.”
“I’ve heard that the ice cream shop is really booming,” he said, coming back from the mudroom. “And all I hear over at the clinic is how genius your glass wall is.”
“Thank you,” I said proudly, folding one arm in front of me, one behind me, and taking a bow. “We’ve been pretty busy with my delicious, delectable frozen concoctions and all of this hot weather.”
“So proud of you, sis,” he said.
“And if you’ve heard we are busy,” I said, “why didn’t you drop by and lend a hand? It is still a family business.”
“I heard you had Aunt Jack helping out,” he said with a big grin on his face.
“You’re not funny,” I said.
“I’m not trying to be.” He shrugged. “But I knew you had hired help. Very smart, Win, instead of trying to rope family into it.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say, Bobby,” my mother said. “No one has ever tried to ‘rope’ anyone into working there. Everyone in the family loves our ice cream shop.”
He held up his hands. “Didn’t mean it like that.” He knew better than to start our mother fussing about something.
“What are you up to, Bobby?” my mother asked.
“Nothing,” he said. He raised his hands higher, showing his innocence.
“I mean with the poster boards,” she said.
“Oh,” he said and glanced toward the mudroom. “I’m organizing a protest against Rhys Enterprises. An out-of-state company coming in and trying to gentrify Chagrin Falls.”
Robert Bantham Crewse, the brother next to me, was an activist. He would advocate for any and every cause he felt passionate about. No matter their station in life, he helped everybody. That was how I knew I could count on him to help me with Mr. Mason.
“I wanted to know if you guys are in,” he asked, rubbing his hands together.
“I’m in,” Maisie said.
“What does this protesting consist of?” I asked.
“Signs, marching, chanting—making ourselves an immovable barrier. The usual.”
“Oh my,” I said. “You were born in the wrong decade.”
“It’s never a wrong time—or decade—to exercise one’s constitutional rights.”
“When is it?” Maisie asked.
“Tomorrow night,” he said. “I just need to know who is in so I’ll have enough signs.”
I wasn’t sure what we were going to be doing tomorrow night. I was sure we wouldn’t have solved the murder by then, so we’d probably still be busy chasing down clues.
But I couldn’t tell him that. Bobby was a tattletale. Everyone knew better than to tell him anything you didn’t want the adults to know. Even as adults, he’d tell everything he knew, and although it was usually my father and grandfather he’d spill to, and they already kind of knew what I was doing, I couldn’t take a chance on him finding out. I didn’t know who else he might tell.
“I’m not sure if I can go,” I said.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because I have company,” I said and pointed to Rory. It was the best reason I could come up with.
He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. “Okay, come if you can.” He looked back toward the kitchen. “What kind of ice cream you bring?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. He walked over to the fridge and opened the freezer door.
“Does he think protesting will help?” Rory asked.
“He’s always doing something for some cause,” I said. “I don’t even know how he thinks Rhys Enterprises will see him.”
“Or that they will care,” Riya said.
“I think it’s a good idea,” Maisie said. “It might help save the building I want from turning into a mall.”
“Yeah, so getting back to the mall and Rhys Enterprises, what’s next?” Riya asked again.
“Shhh!” I said, locating my brother, making sure he was out of earshot. “I don’t want Bobby to know what we’re doing.”
“Hey, everybody!” It was my two oldest brothers, James Jr. and Llewellyn, Lew for short. They both had on shorts and polo shirts. One pink. The other one lavender. Lew carried a board game under each arm. “We found this guy outside. Anyone know him?”
It was O.
What was he doing at my family’s family night?
“Of course we know who he is,” my mother said and went over and looped her arm around O’s, steering him over to the table. “He’s a friend of Win’s.”
My brothers both looked at me questioningly. These were the guys that piled into a car with my dad and played stakeout whenever I had a date with a boy from school. I put up both my hands. “He’s a friend of PopPop’s, too,” I stated in my defense.
“Who’s a friend of PopPop’s?” My dad walked into the kitchen.
“O,” I said.
“Oh,” my dad said and grinned. “And where is my dad? He invites people and doesn’t show up?”
“He’s coming,” my mother said. “But I invited O.”
I saw Maisie grin out of the corner of my eye and she nudged Riya. Riya seemed lost, she didn’t seem to get the joke.
“The more the merrier,” my dad said. “I’m sure we have enough food.”
&nbs
p; “What are you cooking, Mr. Crewse?” Maisie asked.
“You’ll find out soon enough.” My grandfather came in through the mudroom. “Everyone has to cook in order to eat.”
“I’ve got a protest planned,” Bobby said, announcing it to the newcomers. “I’m looking for volunteers. Even bought some poster boards so you guys can help me make some signs.” He eyed our mother and dug his hands down into his pockets. “After dinner of course.”
“I brought Monopoly games over to play after dinner.” Lew pointed to the island counter where he’d placed them. “One is the Game of Thrones edition, the other is the Ultimate Banking edition. It doesn’t use money, only credit cards.”
“What are you protesting now, Bobby?” James Jr. asked.
“Building of the mini mall on the triangle.”
“The one that Zeke Reynolds was killed over?” PopPop added.
“Aren’t you trying to solve that?” Lew asked and looked at me. I’d gotten advice from him when Maisie and I were trying to solve the last murder.
I made a face at him. I didn’t know he knew. Then I glanced over at my mother. Why was I trying to keep something secret that she knew about?
“We’re thinking of investigating the people at the SOOCFA meeting,” Maisie said. She had no discretion.
“Why?” PopPop asked. He probably had the same mindset as my mom. None of the shop owners would have done it.
“Because Zeke Reynolds was messing with our livelihoods.” Maisie’s voice was already in protest mode.
“Thought you were working at the ice cream shop,” Lew said.
“I am. But I also run my garden. And I hope to buy the building next to it.” She nodded. “We were thinking of looking into the people that were there that night because those owners probably didn’t know about the plan to put up a mall. Hearing about it might have angered them enough to kill him.”
“So that would include you,” James Jr. said. He had a sparkle in his eye. My brothers liked to tease Maisie as much as they did me.
“It does not.” She rolled her eyes.
“Who does it involve?” PopPop asked.
“O had suggested we look at the landowners of the block of buildings that Rhys Enterprises wants to buy,” I said.
“And?” he asked.
“Don’t yet know how that’s working out,” I said. Now everyone was going to know we weren’t real good at the whole sleuthing thing. “The only people who were there that were affected shop owners had already sold their properties.”
My brothers chuckled.
“Maybe you should just stick to making ice cream,” James Jr. said.
“Because she makes awesome ice cream, don’t you, Pumpkin?” My father’s words didn’t help me to gather which side he was on.
“She does,” PopPop said. “But she’s got my vote as a sleuth, too. Caught the last one, didn’t she?”
It was nice to have PopPop’s praise. It meant a lot to me. I stood there smiling, enjoying it, and didn’t notice my mother and O coming to stand on either side of me.
“I told you, Win,” O whispered in one ear, “you should leave this alone. It could be dangerous.”
“You remember what happened last time,” my mother whispered in my other ear. “This time you might just be the one who gets killed.”
chapter
THIRTY-SIX
My mother was acting like a Ping-Pong ball, and she was making me dizzy.
Flipping on me. One minute she wanted me to help Rory, the next, warning that I could be the next one who turned up dead.
She’d probably do a triple somersault when she found out what we’d decided to do.
But we planned on being smart about our decision to talk to the Dixby sisters and if we decided to talk to Veronica again. We were going to make sure we did it in a public place and together.
It was quite disquieting to know that danger, in our little village, lurked around every corner and could have its sights trained on just about anyone.
The morning after Family Chef Night, I woke up early, ready to get the day started. And so did Rory.
“Morning,” I said as she stood in my bedroom doorway. She’d gone back to sleeping on the couch. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Nope. I’m ready to do this. We’re still going to talk to suspects today, right?”
“Interrogate them, as Maisie would say. And yes. We still have the sisters and a revisit to the assistant.”
“Good.” She rubbed her eyes with her fingers. Her hair still in twists. “The sooner we do, the sooner I can get out of here.”
“You tired of me and my hometown?” I gave her a puppy-dog pout face.
“No,” she said. “Tired of being embroiled in another murder.”
I knew exactly how she felt.
First stop of the morning was, as always, my PopPop’s house. I’d already made up my mind that five a.m. wasn’t too early to start our questioning, and my grandfather was a good person to start with.
“PopPop,” I said. He’d been hopping around the kitchen fixing coffee for Rory. He liked that she liked his brew.
“Did you know Mayor Kevin Greer is buying Amelia Hargrove a book truck?”
He looked at me over the rim of his cup. He’d sat at the table across from me. Rory sat between us.
“My food truck guy told me,” I offered since he didn’t say anything.
“Are we back on that?”—his response.
“What?” I said.
“You thinking the mayor killed Zeke Reynolds.”
“I never said that.” At least I didn’t think I’d said it out loud. “I’m just saying that’s a big deal to do for someone who you’re not dating.”
Rory sipped her coffee and watched us like she was at a tennis match.
“Kevin is married to Faith,” PopPop said.
“I know,” I said. “But why else would he want to make up to Ms. Hargrove for her having to sell her shop?”
And, I wondered and hoped I hadn’t said aloud, why else would the mayor want to placate Amelia Hargrove if he wasn’t feeling guilty? Guilty, in my opinion, about being a part of the mall debacle and maybe getting her tangled up in a murder.
PopPop made a big deal of swallowing his coffee before he spoke. “Chuck Manuto? Is that who told you this?”
“You know him?” I asked.
“Not personally,” he said. “He’s been wanting a spot on North Main for years. Kevin thought he was shady, never would let a deal for him go through.”
“How can the mayor stop real estate transactions?” I asked. “Wouldn’t that be illegal or something?”
“Kevin got reelected time and time again because people like him. They trust him.” He stared down at his coffee. “He makes them feel like he knows what’s best for the village.”
“Like building a mall on the triangle?”
“Didn’t he tell you he didn’t have anything to do with Rhys Enterprises coming in here to disrupt us?”
“Yes,” I said. I hated keeping up the disagreement with my grandfather. “He did, but—” I quietly protested.
“Look,” PopPop said, like he wanted to end our conversation. “I’d believe Chuck killed that guy before I believed Kevin did it.” He stirred his coffee although I figured it must be getting cold. “And I’d be careful about digging around in people’s personal business because that’s how innocent people get hurt.”
If that hadn’t come from my grandfather, I would have thought it a threat. But I knew he was just looking out for me.
Walking down the hill after morning coffee with PopPop, Rory and I were silent. I didn’t know what she was thinking about. But, after what PopPop had said, I was thinking about Charles Randolph Manuto.
He’d been wronged by the mayor of Chagrin Falls. He wanted to be a part
of the business community and he’d been denied a place on North Main Street.
But how would he exact revenge on Kevin Greer by killing Zeke Reynolds?
I wasn’t sure. That was something I needed to think about.
The day flew by, creating ice cream flavors, serving customers. I had no time to think about murder. Maisie and my mom got in after ten, an hour before we opened. PopPop had taken his place at his regular booth soon after we’d left his house. He’d come with a thermos full of backup coffee. Rory had pitched in to help me make ice cream, and we laughed and talked about old times as I made up another batch of the mango sorbet and the mint mojito coffee. They’d both been a hit and had sold out quickly.
The first time I took a breather and looked up, Aunt Jack was coming in. She’d been there the day before only on my request and the store’s need, not that she was officially on—as an employee—but she was family and, like Bobby and I had talked about, the shop always welcomed help from family.
“I told Wilhelmina not to come in today,” Aunt Jack announced as she huffed her way in the door. I raised an eyebrow. “She worked late yesterday. Thought I’d take her place today. Give her a break.”
I didn’t say anything. I was too busy to process all the wrong in what she’d done.
The next time I looked up it was two thirty and Riya was rushing in the door.
Out of breath and flushed, she leaned over the counter. “You haven’t questioned anyone yet, have you?”
“No.” I chuckled.
“Whew!” she said. “I didn’t want to miss that.”
“When are we going to question them?” Maisie said. When it came to murder investigations, she always had her radar on.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. The sidewalk sale is tonight. Maybe we can do it then.”
Maisie shook her head vigorously. “Too many people will be around. We should do it now.”
“Now?” I glanced up at the clock. “I don’t know. Aunt Jack told Wilhelmina not to come in, and knowing my mother, she’s got a class this afternoon.”
“We get lunch, don’t we?” Rory asked.
A Game of Cones Page 23