Chicken Culprit

by Vikki Walton

  “Watch your–oh wait, you can’t watch—just step lightly. You’ll feel a board. It’s four steps and then a landing.” Sam held on to her arm and helped her to navigate.

  A set of wooden steps echoed under Anne’s feet.

  She found herself standing on a sturdy surface. Hands removed the tie from her eyes. As she blinked, she looked up to see the town’s welcome sign now lit up against the night sky. The number showing the population of thirty- seven hundred now lacked the last zero. A young man appeared and handed her a paintbrush with instruction to paint a straight line on the end.

  Thirty-seven hundred and one. She made the stroke on the board. Anne fought back the big lump in her throat and the tears that sprung to her eyes. But for once, these were tears of joy. She had not just moved to another town, she had come home to a welcoming family. Never in her life had she felt so much care and affection being showered upon her.

  “Anne Freemont,” the mayor bellowed, “you are now an official citizen of Carolan Springs.”

  Everyone cheered. She smiled back at the crowd. Anne felt a squeeze on her hand. She turned to see Kandi.

  “Forgive me?” Kandi cocked her head in query.

  She pulled the young woman into a warm embrace. “Of course! Kandi, that was probably the best surprise ever. And honestly, much better than a blind date. And you were right, I do thank you.”

  “Listen, I’d love to stay, but I’ve got to go to a meeting about an upcoming homesteading fair. You could come with me.” Kandi waved toward a group, who motioned at her to hurry.

  “Run along. I’ll be fine.” Anne waved Kandi off.

  She looked back at the sign. When Anne had first considered moving to a new place, she’d known she wanted somewhere small. Someplace where, hopefully,

  many people wouldn’t know her. Finding Carolan Springs had felt like a sign. In this case, a real sign. She’d packed up her east coast life and headed west to the Rockies. She had found her home. Anne ran her hands up and down her arms.

  “Here. You must be chilled.” A warm jacket full of masculine scent came across her shoulders.

  “Thank you, Sam. It is a bit chilly.”

  “You look really lovely tonight—if no one told you.” “Thank you.” Is he flirting with me? Nah. He’s at least seven, maybe, ten years younger.

  “Hate to see you go home after thinking you were going out for dinner. Hungry?”

  Anne’s stomach rumbled.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Listen, we can stay here, or I know a great place. It’s a bit out of the way but the chef is pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

  She faced him. “Why not.”

  “Great. Let’s take this scooter back to Sally. They thought it would be more fun than a car. Then we can head out.” They reached the pub just as the sheriff’s vehicle pulled up next to them.

  “Sheriff. How’s it going? You missed the welcome party.”

  The officer exited the vehicle. He grunted.

  Sam waited while Anne dismounted, almost falling when her heel caught in the gravel. She grabbed onto the back to steady herself.

  “You been drinking, Ms. Freemont?” The sheriff gave Anne a once-over.

  “No. My heel got stuck.”

  His responding look said he’d heard every excuse in the book.

  “How’s the Roger’s case coming?” Sam removed the keys from the scooter.

  “I don’t talk about cases in front of witnesses or possible suspects.”

  Anne raised herself to her full high-heeled height, but she was still a good half head lower than the sheriff.

  “Are you saying I’m a witness or that you consider me a suspect? Because if it’s the latter, I had absolutely no reason whatsoever to kill that man.”

  “Aren’t you very friendly with Kandi Jenkins?”

  “Well, yes. But what has that got to do with anything?” She placed her hands on her hips and tried to remain steady while standing on tippy-toes. The shoes were really starting to pinch and hurt. “You need to quit going after Kandi and get serious about finding the real killer.”

  He bristled but didn’t reply. She stared up at him.

  He stared down at her.

  He broke the unspoken stand-off. “How’d you get the bruise on your head, Ms. Freemont?”

  She reached up and touched her temple. “I got it...” Dang. She stopped quickly.

  “I believe you got the one on your head when you were trespassing on a crime scene after the murder. Isn’t that correct?” He rested his hand on his gun holster.

  “And that was after you had a nasty fall in his backyard a few days before the victim was murdered.” He took a step toward her.

  “You think I killed a man because of a fall I took into his compost pile?” She wanted to retreat but feared falling.

  “People are strange, Ms. Freemont. You’d be surprised at the reasons people give to justify killing someone. Just last summer, old lady Pepper killed her husband, supposedly over toilet paper. Seems they’d fought for fifty years over which way it should go on the roller. She said she’d had enough. The next time he said, ‘Over,’ she hit him over the head with an iron frying pan. So you see, murder can happen to the best of us.”

  He was kidding, right? “Oh, you’re just pulling—” “Just what? I’d be careful if I were you, Ms. Freemont.

  You best remember you’re speaking to an officer of the law.”

  “Come on, Carson.” With a hard stare from the sheriff, Sam stopped. “I mean, Sheriff Carson. I’m sure Ms. Freemont wants the killer caught like the rest of us do.”

  “That’s right. In fact, I have my own suspect list.”

  Shoot. Why did I say that out loud?

  “You do, do you? Are you a private detective, Ms. Freemont?” He stepped closer.

  “No. But…” She inched back, stopping when her heel twisted.

  “That is the correct answer. No, you are not. You don’t know what you are doing, and you need to stick to doing”—he appraised her—“whatever it is that you do. Leave the detective work to the professionals.”

  Was he judging her by the heels she wore? She should never have let Kandi convince her the dress needed heels instead of ballet flats. She bristled at his appraisal. Well, she’d show him what she could do.

  “Fine! I’ll just figure out the suspect list on my own.” “Ms. Freemont, do you know that you can be arrested for interfering in a murder investigation?” “I’m not interfering.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way.” He tipped his hat, “Ms. Freemont, Sam.” He strode toward the pub.

  Anne sighed in frustration. That man is incorrigible.

  Chapter Ten

  Sam chuckled. “Let’s go and get rid of that hangry Anne.” “What?”

  “You know when you get hungry and then you get angry? Come on. The night’s a-wasting.” He opened the truck door for her.

  Anne slid onto the brown seat. Like the man driving the truck, it had a scent all its own. Besides popcorn, another smell permeated the interior. She couldn’t place it. Animal, maybe. Anne leaned against the seat. The day’s hectic pace had finally caught up with her. A wave of fatigue hit as she stifled a yawn. Covering her mouth with her hand, she glanced out the passenger window. They passed the county line.

  “Um, is this place not in town?” She appraised Sam as he focused on the road.

  “Oh, it’s at my house. Hope that’s okay.” Before she had a chance to respond, Sam hit his high beams and down-shifted his truck. The lights shone on a small white mailbox, the only indication of a passage between the trees. They began the rough jaunt down the potholed lane. “Sorry for the bumps. I’m planning on regrading the road, but I can’t get to it until next weekend.”

  Great. He’s taking me to his place. What if he’s Ralph’s killer? Or a rapist? She surreptitiously glanced at her door. The handle still looked intact, so that was good. She inched closer to it. What did she have in her purse she could use as defense? Lipsti
ck and some breath mints didn’t seem to rank high on the protection list. She did have her phone. Luckily, she still held her purse. She silently opened it and searched inside.

  Just then his phone beeped. “Oops. Sorry. Just a second.” He answered through his vehicle speakers. “Dispatch.”

  A muted woman’s voice.

  Sam responded. “Oh, hi, Miss Faith. How are you doing?” He listened.

  Anne could hear what sounded like a jumble of words. “Ralph…sleeping. I like snow.”

  “Are you at home? Is Hope there? Hello? Hello?” Only silence.

  Sam’s face tensed, and then relaxed when Hope came on the line.

  After Hope spoke, Sam replied, “No need to apologize. Have a good night, Hope.” He ended the call. “Sorry about that. I’m on dispatch for the night. Okay, now what was I saying?”

  This couldn’t be any worse. My possible killer is the one manning 9-1-1 calls. Reality calmed her suspicion. Geez. What’s wrong with you! He’s no more a killer than you’re a great opera singer. This thing with Ralph has you looking at everyone as a murderer in the making. She thought back to Hope’s words. Had her fragile mind mixed up his death and sleeping?

  “You were talking about the…” Anne motioned to the road.

  Sam interrupted. “Here we are.”

  The truck emerged from the dark stand of trees into a broad clearing. A small cabin appeared, lights glowing in the windows and on the porch. Stretching beyond the bungalow, a huge lake glimmered with moonlight. It looked like something out of a painting.

  Anne leaned forward and took in the view. “Wow.

  This is beautiful.”

  “Yes. I love it here.” He pulled the keys from the ignition and turned to face her. “Heads up. Before you get out of the truck, be careful of Hank.”

  “Hank?”

  Just then a golden retriever bounded off the porch. Sam opened his door. They tussled with one another before he commanded the dog to sit and stay. “Okay, you can get out now.”

  Anne exited her side and went around to where the dog sat. “Is it okay if I pet him?”

  “Sure. He loves people, but I don’t want him jumping on you.” She clumsily bent down and ruffled the dog’s ears. He responded with a wet tongue down her arm.

  “Hank, in,” Sam commanded.

  Without hesitation, the dog ran to the porch and disappeared off to the side. Sam offered Anne his arm. “Wouldn’t want you falling in those things.” He glanced at her shoes.

  “They’re Kandi’s, and truth be told, I’m ready for them to be off my feet.”

  He escorted her around the back. “I rarely use the front door.” He kicked a chewed tennis ball from their path. The rear of the cabin had a deck built up over the water. The back door stood open, and the golden retriever now sprawled onto a rolled rag rug, a dog toy in his mouth.

  “Did you leave the door open?” Anne gawked.

  “Don’t look so surprised. I knew I’d be gone for a bit. Wanted Hank to be able to get outside if nature called. We’re a small town. Not many people lock their doors. We have little to no crime, so many just see it as a senseless hassle.” He stood back to allow her to enter. “Plus, an open door isn’t that much different than a closed one. If someone really wants to get in, they’ll find a way.”

  Anne shivered, knowing what he said was true. Still, having locked doors gave her peace of mind.

  “Don’t worry. Hank wouldn’t be so friendly without me here.” He nodded toward the dog. “Right, boy?” The dog dropped the toy and wagged his tail.

  Anne entered to find a bright kitchen, dining room, and living room combination. Two doors opened off to the side. At the far end of the room, a set of stairs headed up to a second floor. Another set of stairs mirroring the upper ones looked like they led down to a basement level.

  “This is nice. Very cozy.”

  “It’s good for me and him. Huh, boy?” The golden raised his head and wagged his tail at Sam. “Got any pets?”

  “No. No pets.” Anne shrugged out of the jacket Sam had let her borrow.

  “Well, you should remedy that.” He set down a bowl of dog food Hank ignored.

  Anne looked around. “Do you want help with anything?”

  “Naw. That’s okay. Wouldn’t want you to get something on that dress. You just sit back and let me wait on you.” He pulled out a jug from the refrigerator and held it up. “I’ve been hooked on hot cider lately. Want some?”

  “Sounds good. Thank you.” She perched on the edge of a chair and slid the high heels off her feet. Wiggling her toes, she realized, if nothing else, she could use the shoes Kandi let her borrow to protect herself. No wonder they called them killer shoes with those spikes on the end. You’ve got to rein in your wild imagination before it gets you in trouble. And no more true crime documentaries or detective shows.

  Sliding into the chair, she pulled her legs up under her. Sam poured the golden liquid into a pot on the stove to simmer. The smell of apple and cinnamon filled the air. She sighed with contentment. “I’m going to go get out of my work clothes. I’ll be back in a jiff.” He pointed to one of the doors. “There’s a bathroom if you want to wash your hands.” Sam sprinted over to the stairs and took them two at a time. His trim frame coupled with his energy and strength showed he clearly kept himself in top physical shape.

  Anne took advantage of the time. In the bathroom, she washed her hands and then applied some more lip gloss. While she waited for him to return, she rested her head on the back of the chair. Sam’s a nice guy and certainly no killer. She closed her eyes. The town’s welcome had been so thoughtful. A home-cooked meal would be a great way to end the evening.

  “Tired?” He’d returned without her hearing. He moved to the kitchen and poured the warm cider into a cup. She joined him at the island dividing the rooms and perched on a barstool.

  He handed the cider to her. “Here’s to new friendships.” He held up his mug. She responded in kind. “I better get you fed, so I can get you home. You’ll need your sleep. I’ve got a feeling Kandi will be contacting you tomorrow about helping out at her fair.” “Her fair?” Anne took a sip. “Wow. This is really good cider.”

  “Thanks. I made it.” He poured some into a dark blue mug he pulled from an open shelf.

  “You made it?”

  “Yep. With my line of work, you spend a whole lot of time sitting around. We’ve got so many apples around these parts that I decided to make it from scratch. I call it ‘Veronica’s Cider’ in honor of my mom.”

  “That’s so sweet. I bet your mom loves it.” She took another sip.

  “I think she would have.” He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a closed container. “She died before she got to test it.”

  “Oh, I’m so very sorry.”

  “It’s sad. But it brought me home. I never thought I’d return. But, I belong here.” He pulled food from the refrigerator.

  “Really, please let me help.” Anne moved off the stool. “Okay, hold on.” He went upstairs and returned with a pair of wool socks and one of his flannel shirts. “Sorry, I don’t have an apron. But this should protect your dress and keep your feet and legs warm”

  As Anne put on the clothing, Sam filled the sink with water and stuck the corn in it, shuck and all. Anne returned and raised her mug. “Here’s to finding Ralph’s killer.”

  “Not great dinner conversation.” He handed her some washed spinach, red onion, and feta for making the salad. “Here’s a bowl. The knives are in that drawer and the cutting board is over there.” As Anne gathered her tools, Sam drew out a filleted trout from a refrigerated container.

  “I’m just worried about Kandi. I can’t see her hurting anyone, much less killing someone.” She put the spinach in the bowl and started slicing the onion.

  “Oops. Better get this going. Got sidetracked.” With a quick flip, the entire glass wall fell back on itself in accordion fashion and the deck became an extension of the living space.

&nbs
p; “Oh, that’s wonderful.” Anne clapped her hands. “Cost me a hunk of money, but it was on my top ten list when I built here. I enjoy the cooler temps but if it gets too cold, let me know and we’ll go back inside. Usually the fireplace does a great job of keeping things toasty.”

  Outdoors, he started up the fireplace and added a couple logs. Next to it, he turned on the gas grill. Before long, Anne’s mouth watered as cooking odors wafted on the air. As they waited on the food, Sam rolled the dining table outdoors in front of the fireplace. Working in unison, they placed the cooked food on the table. He handed her a dish of melted butter, lemon, and dill. Anne drizzled some on her fish, which practically melted in her mouth. “Ummmmm. This is delicious.”

  “Caught it today. From out there.” He motioned toward the lake.

  He paused. “Listen, I’m not trying to dissuade you about Kandi. But no one knows how they will react when certain situations come up. Whoever killed Ralph meant it. That axe went straight to his vital organs. Kandi is the right height which lines up with the wound. Her prints are on the axe. The DNA is there. All the evidence points to her.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that. But would you hide the axe in your own yard if you were the killer?”

  “Well. Let’s think about that.” He wiped butter from his chin with a checkered cloth napkin. “There’s two ways to look at the situation. One, I’m the killer and I goofed big time in trying to get rid of the murder weapon. Two, I put the weapon there in order to make the police think it was planted, hoping to take suspicion off me.”

  “I guess that makes sense. But someone else could have planted the weapon there. Right?” Anne used her knife to scoop some corn onto her fork.

  “Of course. The problem is that there were only two sets of fingerprints on the weapon. Ralph’s and Kandi’s.”

  “But that’s because Kandi grabbed the axe when Ralph said he’d kill her chicken.”

  Sam arched his eyebrows. “Ralph threatened to kill her chicken? Maybe she killed Ralph?”

  “But he didn’t. He just told her to keep the chickens out of his garden. She’d have to have a better motive than that.”