by K A Goodsell
Actually, yes, crash it. Maybe then you’ll have no chance to win.
No, that would be horrible, and I could probably use his help. Even if he was annoying and got under my skin quicker than a parasite in the jungle. The drone adjusted itself mid-air and regained its balance before Gage lowered it completely to the ground and turned off its power.
The conversation had gone silent, and I stopped fumbling. Gage was looking behind me, and I followed his eyes to John Doe.
“I like how he’s still just chilling there,” Gage said. “He wears those headphones better than you.” He laughed, and we both stared at John Doe. “Now that I made this conversation weird, you should make your exit. Do you want to meet up later today and look at some of my footage?”
I swung the bag over my shoulder. “Yeah, that works. I’ll be with Raimy at her cottage. I can come by later.”
“It’s a date,” he whispered. I looked up at him and he shook his head. “You know what I mean. Not a date. It’s just a phrase. A death date.”
I liked that. “A death date it is.”
The driveway up to the White Manor Inn was empty for a Sunday. Normally people would pack the parking lot to get a spot for brunch. Even though the restaurant on the property was just a tavern, the chef, Kyle, had the best pancakes and bacon in Connecticut. He’d even won awards for them—awards that now sat in a box under the bar. He didn’t like recognition. For him, people coming back week after week to eat his food was recognition enough.
I rested my head against the truck’s seat for a moment before turning it off and stepping onto the gravel driveway. I watched as Mitzy ran around the side of the porch with Radar and noticed that two of her pumpkins had been knocked over and shattered all over the ground below. I bet the squirrels loved that.
As I continued to scan the area, I caught a view of the tavern through the windows. Elgort was wearing an apron, collecting dishes from the tables. Crap. I hadn’t realized he’d be working this morning.
I walked through the oversized front doors, trying to keep my head down until I saw Mrs. Morrow, who waved me over to the front desk where she was organizing pictures of the manor.
“Morning, Pais,” she said, leaning over and almost toppling a glass of water to kiss me on the cheek. I caught the glass before it tumbled across her work. “Can you help me with something?”
“Morning,” I replied. “I just saw a few of your pumpkins got knocked down. What happened? And sure, what can I do for you?”
I looked over the photographs. “What are you working on?”
“Oh, I know. Not sure what happened, but the pumpkins were like that Friday morning. It’s okay, though. Okay, any who, I need the best photograph of the inn to give to the paper. I’m running an ad for the harvest festival coming up. We’re going pumpkin everything.” She beamed at me before looking back at the photos pensively. “Dinner service is our best time of the day, as you know.”
It was true. My family came in at least twice a week for dinner, and dinner service was usually packed, but a majority of the locals would come just for Kyle’s fried mac and cheese balls—which were the bomb—and to have a beer to end their busy days. It was the only place in town to dine and have alcohol at the same time. Kyle’s heaviest drink was a malted chocolate milkshake with rum. We didn’t even have a liquor store in town—too scandalous.
One of the few outwardly “shocking” Pine Grove citizens was Kyle’s wife, Stormy Walters, a thirty-three-year-old who was a fan of anything Stephen King or The Twilight Zone, and manned the bar at the Inn. She was loud and never closed her mouth, and when she did, it was usually to eat Kyle’s food, either at the bar or at home. Mrs. Morrow hired them at the same time and never looked back. The couple took care of the food and bar better than anyone else could, and they were tough enough to deal with the few problematic moments while being light enough to handle traditional townsfolk.
“Hey, darlin’,” Stormy said, wiping her hands on the unicorn-printed half apron tied around her waist. She herself was a unicorn with blue, purple, and pink strands throughout her long hair.
“Morning.” I smiled at her and looked back at the photographs. Some were taken with the photographer standing directly in front of the Inn, some from the side, and then one of them was from a drone that showed the whole Inn, the Christmas tree farm that surrounded the property, and part of the river across the street where the Inn gave kayak tours. I pointed at the aerial photograph. “Did Gage take this?”
“He did,” she confirmed. “He’s talented with that drone of his. I don’t quite understand how he can fly it, but that’s why I work in hospitality and he work with technology. I can’t even connect my phone to Bluetooth some days, to be honest.”
I studied how the river ran behind the behind the boathouse and alongside Center Cemetery. Was it possible that the murder hadn’t happened at the lake itself? Had Teddy’s body floated downstream?
“Use this one.” I placed the photograph back down onto the desk and smiled at her. “This is the one. It’s different and shows all the surrounding area.”
She picked up the photograph and examined it, smiling. “Sold.”
“Can I take a photo of that?” I asked her, pulling out my cellphone.
“Oh, I’ll just ask Gage to send you a copy,” she said, putting the other photographs into a folder. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.”
“Okay,” I nodded, putting my phone away. “I just like it a lot.”
Her brow raised. “No worries, sweetheart.”
“Come get something to eat?” Stormy asked, pulling me into the tavern.
“I already ate,” I told her, remembering that my mission was to come pick up my sister and not to stuff my face, even though I was hungry. “I have to grab Mitzy for my parents.”
“Kyle, you’re going to make me buffalo mac and cheese or there will be no Netflix and chill this weekend, I swear,” Stormy threatened through the cutout window between the bar and the kitchen. “I tell ya, he’s such a Dewdropper.”
Dewdropper: an antiquated term for a lazy person.
That was the other thing about Stormy—she spoke often in the 1920s slang. You got used to it after a while.
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. Stormy and her escapades. “Oh, while I’m here, though, can I have your pineapple upside-down cake recipe?”
“Sure, darlin’. It’s a yellow box cake with Del Monte pineapple and brown sugar and a maraschino cherry on top. Just make sure you get the rings and not the chunks. It’ll be the bee’s knees.”
The cake sounded horrible. I tried to nod in a diplomatic way, but Stormy was onto me. Crossly, she said, “Did you think I had time to sit around baking cakes from scratch like some boring old housewife?”
“You could never be boring,” I said on cue, because it was true and because I knew it was what she wanted to hear. “You’re the cat’s pajamas.”
“You could do with a little less baking and a little more living life.” She was being prickly, and she was never prickly with me. “Youth is truly wasted on the young. Come on, though, let’s get you some food.”
Dang, I thought I had distracted her with the recipe question.
Stormy pulled me into the kitchen and the sweet smell of syrup greeted me. I saw a huge plate of pancakes sitting on the counter, waiting for me. They were my ultimate weakness. Damn him.
These weren’t just any pancakes. They were Kyle’s pancakes. They were buttery, fluffy, golden brown pancakes that melted in my mouth. They were the goddesses of the pancake world.
“I knew you were coming to drop your sister off, and I wanted to make you something. I knew you were having a terrible couple days,” Kyle said. “I thought they would cheer you up.”
I smiled at him. “They do, but I can’t right now.”
“Do you have any details about everything that’s going on?”
There it was. I knew it was a scheme to learn more about the murder. I wasn’t supposed to talk abou
t it, so I shook my head. When he handed me a knife and fork, I automatically cut into the pancakes. They’ll just get thrown out. I should at least have a taste.
“Everyone was talking about some kind of book,” Kyle told me, curious. He meant no harm.
Him. I felt him.
I looked up into Elgort’s face and froze, the piece of pancake half in my mouth.
Kyle looked between the two of us, confused.
“Oh, hi,” Elgort said as he picked up a plate from the drying rack. “We’re not supposed to be—”
I hadn’t lowered my fork. I looked at him dumbly over it. “—anywhere near each other,” I finished.
We stood there for a moment, just staring at each other. He looked well enough, but he had dark circles under his eyes.
“They told me they were interviewing me again last. So I don’t really know what that means or when that is.” He put the plate down onto the counter. “Paislee. Can I at least get an answer on whether you believe me? I’ve been wanting to text you or call you.”
Something left me uneasy, though I couldn’t quite put a finger on it.
Kyle looked at me, frowning. “You know, we don’t have camera's back here. I never saw anything if you hug or something. Just saying.”
I nodded towards Elgort and he nodded back, then I looked at Kyle and mouthed, “Thank you.”
I dropped the fork I had been playing with and ran to him. I wrapped my arms around him, and he did the same.
Everything rushed back. The emotions of the other night at the dock, the scent of his cologne, which smelled like a bonfire, the tightness of his hugs, which felt never ending in the best way.
Near tears, I looked up at him, noticing a small scratch on his chin. Before I could point it out, or even tell him that I missed him, Mitzy walked into the kitchen with Radar.
“Hey,” Mitzy said, folding her arms across her chest. “You guys aren’t supposed to be around other.”
“Mitzy,” I warned. “Stop it.”
Elgort broke our embrace and walked out of the room with a glance at me over his shoulder.
I wanted to shout for him to wait, don’t go, but nothing came out of my mouth, and the chance was slipping away. I was supposed to say something self-deprecatingly witty, wasn’t I? I’d get a laugh and then I’d see it in his eyes—he’d think I was on his level again. And like that, I’d be back to normal with Elgort.
But the moment passed, and he walked back into the dining room, the door flapping behind him.
“How about this?” I turned to Mitzy. “If I give you my pancakes, will you keep this our secret? And you won’t tell anyone?”
Mitzy thought it over and nodded, a huge smile on her face.
After thanking everyone, I walked out of the kitchen. Stormy caught my eye and nodded toward a woman sitting at a booth in the room's corner.
I’d never seen her in town before. “What do you know about her?” I whispered.
“Well, she checked in late last night, and she’s one weird chick,” she said, turning back to the bar. “She ordered pancakes this morning without syrup. What kind of monster does that?”
I was ripped out of my thoughts by a loud crash.
Two guys in their early thirties were shoving each other near the bar, bumping into tables and sending dishes and glassware to shatter on the ground. Other guests were shouting at them or leaving their seats in fear they would be collided with next.
By the time I got around the bar, Stormy was yelling at the two, throwing dirty dishrags in their direction. One of them had punched the other in the face. He coughed, probably from the smell of chemicals on the rag, causing him to let go of the guy he was death gripping.
Stormy nodded proudly. “I told you guys to stop it! Don’t stop, you get a mouthful of chems!”
“Stormy!” I hissed.
She grimaced and wiped up the dirty water on the bar.
Elgort was between the two of them now, telling them they needed to cool down and leave immediately.
The two men got their coats, and they both apologized to Stormy before walking out angrily through the exit door into the parking lot.
“What the hell was that?” I asked her.
She shrugged. “I told them they needed to apologize before they left.”
I didn’t understand.
“Did you know it would happen?”
“They said they would probably get into an argument tonight. They told me that when they sat down earlier at the bar.”
I shook my head. “Why didn’t you tell them they would need to leave?”
She finished wiping the counter. “I did, and they said it wouldn’t be long if they did.”
Sometimes, I really didn’t understand Stormy. Her logic made little sense. But on a side note, why would they tell someone they would get into an argument? It was odd. Just keep your stuff private.
“Okay… They weren’t locals. We would have known them.” I shook my head again as she started to re-rack beer glasses before scanning the damage. I’d have to help clean up monetarily. It looked as bad as it had sounded.
“You don’t think either of them were involved with Teddy, right?” I quickly scanned the room again to see if they were still around and ran toward the lobby. The front door was already shut, and they were gone. Crap. Any non-local who fought in a bar mid-day needed to be interviewed, or at least spoken to.
I walked back into the dining room and swept up the pieces of broken plates as Elgort came back in, dusting off his hands.
He leaned over to pick up the pieces by hand, but I rushed over with the dustpan and broom. “I’ll get it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s okay.” I realized that my voice projected louder than I would have liked it to. “I’ve got it.”
I watched with interest as Elgort turned to the woman Stormy had pointed out and locked eyes with her. And she held his gaze. Elgort’s mouth drew into a thin, tight line. The woman didn’t move.
A few minutes later, everything was picked up except for the furniture, and Stormy took the dustpan and broom from me. “I’ll get Elgort to pick up the tables, okay?”
I nodded, standing from my knees, which ached at the moment. As I let out a warm breath, I saw that the woman from the corner was watching me intently. I smiled at her, wiped my hands on my jean shorts and felt my tights underneath them shift. I looked back up at her. She was still watching me, now with a smile.
A little odd, I thought. Maybe she needed something.
With a customer service smile, I approached her. I hoped she wouldn’t yell at me for the bar fight. All I needed today was to get yelled at for two stupid guys who fought inside instead of outside.
“I’m sorry about all the commotion that just happened,” I told her as I spotted rogue pieces of broken glass. “Do you want anything on the house? I know the owner. Kyle makes some great pecan pie, and Stormy makes a mean martini.”
She peered up from the book she held, and her looks immediately threw me now I could see her better. She was beautiful. Her eyes were bright green, almost hazel, but I couldn’t say what shade they were without a doubt in the back of my mind. It was hard to tell. All I knew was that I needed to stop staring at her. “Sorry.”
“I’m Rebecca,” she whispered, putting her head down. “I think we went to school together.” She smiled at me. “I was a senior when you were a freshman. Nat Grimes’s sister, right?”
“Yes,” I confirmed, still not able to place her.
“Rebecca Barton,” she told me. “Teddy’s older sister.”
Oh. I remembered her now. We had spoken maybe twice in the library when she helped me put away books. It had been a safe place for both us, as we weren’t really the social butterflies of the school and would rather have our noses stuck in books.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I told her, not knowing what else to say.
“It’s okay,” she blurted, flashing a fake smile that faded as quickly as it a
ppeared. “Your mom has already said that at least ten times today.”
“Ah,” I said, understanding my mother’s tactics when it came to the family of the deceased. Fill them with apologies, not reality. “It’ll keep happening, just to prepare you.”
“Thanks.” She laughed a little. I wanted to ask her about Teddy, but I needed to do something for her first to make her feel more welcomed. She was suffering a loss, she had just seen a huge bar fight, and now I was awkwardly hovering over her.
“Seriously, though, can I get you anything?”
“Oh, no, I’m okay.”
“How about pancakes?”
“With sprinkles,” she conceded.
“I can do that.”
“That would be amazing. I ordered about half hour ago, but I think he forgot with the chaos.” She nodded toward Elgort, who was picking up a table.
“No worries, let me do this for you.”
With that, I watched her pick her book back up, open it and continue reading like out odd conversation hadn’t just occurred. But it had, and I didn’t really know how to feel about it. Either way, I’d agreed to give her pancakes, and she’d get pancakes.
I spun on my heels and headed toward the kitchen, passing Elgort on the way. He followed behind me.
“You good?”
“I just told this lady I would get her pancakes.”
“Who?” he asked.
I pointed over my shoulder. I had no idea if it was even close to the direction she was seated in. “She said you forgot her order.”
“Who, Rebecca?” he said more quietly as I turned around, leaning lightly on the kitchen doorframe. “I didn’t forget, I just didn’t put it in yet.”
“You know her?” I questioned.
“She went to school with us.” He folded his arms. “She was at the lake the other night, don’t you remember?”
The confusion in his voice matched what I was trying to suppress in my own. I looked between Elgort and the woman. She had been at the lake the other night? I wondered if she was with that group that had the noise complaint.
“Pancakes,” I said. “With sprinkles.”
“Is it her birthday?” he joked. “You made those last year on my birthday.” We walked through the swinging doors into the kitchen where Kyle was speaking rapidly in Spanish to his prep cook. “No, I’m just trying to be nice.”