Dark Secrets and Dead Reckoning, A Red Pine Falls Cozy Mystery (Red Pine Falls Cozy Mysteries Book 3)

by Angela C Blackmoore

  Abby simply liked to have people like her. She suspected Mr. Wilberson accepted her, and that the way he acted toward Abby didn’t matter, but she just couldn’t convince herself that Mr. Wilberson’s silence was anything but dislike.

  However, Cheerio adored him, and she knew her dog was a great judge of character. She told herself yet again not to let it get to her as she followed the old man onto the porch and inside. Between the two of them, they wrangled the bulk of the apples and pears into the kitchen. Then, without another word, the old man turned and shuffled back off to whatever eldritch task he had assigned himself that day.

  Despite herself, Abby pursed her lips as he moved out of sight.

  “Don’t worry about Mr. Wilberson,” Hazel said, picking up one of the bags of apples and examining them before placing them back on the table next to several large bowls. “He likes you well enough, Abby. All of our friends used to tease him that he was an old man even in his twenties. I guess now he’s just grown into what he always was.”

  “I know,” Abby said with a sigh. “I’m just not used to people ignoring me.”

  “It’s called stoicism,” Hazel answered. “Our generation went through different times, and it just isn’t the same thing as being ignored. Showing emotions and talking is a newfangled concept, isn’t it?” Hazel chuckled softly as she sat and began peeling the apples. “Didn’t they invent that in the eighties?”

  “I guess I’m going to have to get used to calling you Grandma Wilberson,” Abby said, laughing softly to herself.

  Surprisingly, Hazel shook her head as she finished with one apple and then moved onto the next. “No, dear. I’ll still be called Morgan. Bill knows about it and he’s fine with it.”

  “That’s…unusual,” Abby said, trying to digest the new information.

  Hazel smirked at her. “You mean, that’s unusual for a woman of my age, don’t you? Yes, it is. Very much so. Not as bad as for when my daughter, Kay, kept her name, but when I was younger, it was completely unheard of.” Hazel paused for a moment, considering her next words. “It’s a requirement of the will that my great great grandmother Kat Morgan laid out when she first built the house. No one could inherit unless they were named Morgan.” She laughed softly. “You have no idea how angry it makes some people, but like I always say, there’s plenty of rocks to go chew on down by the riverbank.”

  Abby laughed, joining her grandmother at the table and picking up an apple and a knife, watching Hazel as she skillfully peeled and cored the apples. After one or two, Hazel slowed down and let Abby follow along, showing her the best technique.

  It wasn’t long before Hazel was back to her usual speed, and Abby doing a decent, if slower, job of the process. Before long, the glistening white pieces of apples began piling up higher and higher. Each apple type and the pears were put in their respective bowls.

  “By the way,” Hazel said, after a few minutes of silence. “I meant to ask you, what was that odd rumbling I heard from town earlier today?”

  Abby looked up, stopping her peeling and thinking hard on what to say. What should she tell her grandmother? She didn’t want to bother or frighten her, considering all that she’d been through in the past few weeks. She decided not to mention what had happened in the Food Emporium. “Oh, that was, um, a group of people on motorcycles heading through town.”

  Hazel’s eyebrows rose, though she didn’t take her eyes off of her peeling. “My goodness. It sounded like more than a few. I thought it was a thunderstorm at first.” She shook her head. “Not many come through here though I love the look of them. The bikes I mean. Mike used to ride one years ago.”

  “Mike McGrady?” Abby asked,

  “The very one,” Hazel answered. She reached over, tapping the apple that Abby was holding motionless. “Don’t dawdle. They won’t peel themselves.”

  Abby grinned and resumed peeling. “He’s a nice man. Becky and I’ve had some of his hard cider. It’s very good.”

  Hazel nodded, keeping her concentration on what she was doing. “I think he quit riding that machine after having an accident. If I remember correctly, he was in the hospital for a few weeks. It scarred up his face, poor dear. I never saw him ride again.”

  “I think they are quite dangerous,” Abby answered. “Danny wanted to get one, but I didn’t want him to. I don’t suppose that matters now, though. Maybe I should have let him have one?”

  Hazel stopped peeling and reached over, taking Abby’s suddenly trembling hand. “Stop that. Stop that right now,” she said, looking sternly into Abby’s eyes. “You don’t go trying to relive the past or second guess your decisions. That just leads to crazy, and I won’t let you go there.”

  “But,” Abby began to say.

  “No Buts,” Hazel said, frowning when Abby seemed to be still uncertain. She lifted her left hand, pushing her ring finger toward Abby prominently. “Do you see this ring? Bill and I spent over twenty years being stupid, each thinking the other had done something to Rob Morgan. Twenty years! For foolish, foolish reasons. Should I beat myself up every day now? Or just enjoy the fact that the man I love finally proposed to me? Should I sit in a rocking chair in a dark room and pine for my lost twenty years!?”

  Abby blinked back tears but finally shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

  “That’s right,” Hazel said, nodding her head in finality and glaring at Abby one last time before sitting back and picking the apple she had half-peeled back up. “No. And I won’t let you do that either, Abigail Morgan, do you hear me? Besides, you have a good man now. One who is patient and wants to be with you. Don’t forget about him, either. He is in your life now, and it’s good for you.”

  Abby nodded and took a deep breath. Hazel was right. She couldn’t just dwell in the past. Besides, she did have a good life now. A beautiful place to live, friends, and yes, there was Gabe.

  “Come on,” Hazel said as she dropped yet another apple bit into one of the bowls. “We’ve got a lot of pies to bake before the last farmers market of the year.”

  Abby nodded and resumed working to be faster at peeling her apples. It was going to be an unusual day tomorrow. Hopefully, she would find out more about John, but it was Gabe she missed the most. John had said he wanted to do some Elk hunting. Maybe she’d get a chance to introduce the two of them.

  Unless it wasn’t Elk they were really after.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning dawned clear and cold with the wind fighting its way through the trees to stir the fall leaves into the occasional whirlwind. Since Hazel was going to come into town with her, Abby made sure Cheerio was comfortable in the back seat of the car next to the stacks of pies they’d made for the farmers market.

  It wasn’t more than five minutes before they pulled up in front Becky’s familiar booth with the words Becky’s Café in white letters blazoned across the front. Becky had borrowed a friend’s truck to haul the booth and her food over, but without the use of her kitchen, she was reduced to sandwiches and other cold foods.

  She smiled brightly as the small car pulled up, coming over to help unload the pies for the day’s activities. When she opened the door, Cheerio yipped happily at seeing her, but Becky paused and took a deep breath.

  “Oh, my,” Becky said, her eyes wide as she turned toward Abby. “Those smell heavenly.”

  “You wanted apple pies, you get apple pies,” Hazel said, looking at Becky over the roof of the car and smiling. “You brought the ice cream and whipped topping right? They don’t need it, but in my experience, people usually want that.”

  Becky nodded and started moving the pies over to one of the tables under the booth. She lifted up one of the cooler lids and displayed their contents to Abby and Hazel, who deposited their own pies next to the ones Becky had been carrying. “Old fashioned vanilla and chocolate, straight from Butters Ice Cream,” Becky said, smiling down at the big tubs that Mr. Martinez had sold her.

  “Did he also give you the whipped topping?” Abby asked, b
ending down and lifting out one of the covered plastic bins. There were no markings on the side like those bought in the store.

  Becky nodded. “Yes, he did! He wasn’t going to at first, but I promised him a piece. He still wasn’t going to budge until I told him that Hazel had made them and then he bargained for two pieces.”

  Hazel laughed softly as she slid two more pies onto the table. “Two? That brings back memories.”

  “That sounds like a story,” Abby said, grinning at her grandmother. “What memories?”

  “I used to make pies for all of the church services and special occasions. Potlucks, yard parties, and anything else that would warrant it. Mr. Martinez would always be one of the first ones to get a slice. Then, he’d stalk the pie table, waiting for me to turn my back or go off for some reason so he would sneak a second slice.” Hazel put her hands on her hips and chuckled while she looked off into the distance. “It became a game for a while when he was younger. Sometimes I’d act like I was about to leave, and then come back before he could quite get to the second slice.”

  Both Abby and Becky laughed along with Hazel. “That was good for me, then,” Becky said, grinning at the older woman. “Do you think we’ll make some good money today?”

  Abby rolled her eyes playfully at her best friend. “Like you need it? Remember, I saw how much the bank’s settlement was for.”

  Becky stuck her tongue out and waggled her head. “That’s not the point.”

  “Okay,” Abby replied, reaching in and gently lifting Cheerio out of the back seat and settling him onto the ground. She then picked up Cheerio’s blanket and slowly walked Cheerio over to the booth where he could lay down under one of the covered tables. “What is the point?”

  Becky’s eyes flicked over to another booth that was close but not right next to theirs. Compared to the plastic covering and metal poles that Becky’s booth had, this one was done in rich green fabric with gold lettering. The poles that supported the booth were done in a deep brown wood stain, with a gold C etched about eye height on all four sides. “There are points,” Becky said evasively.

  When Abby had first come to Red Pine Falls, Becky had invited her to help her in this very same booth at the Fall Festival. Then, Grace Callahan had set up right next to them in an attempt at rubbing Becky’s nose in the fact that Callahan’s usually made more money than she did. Or, at least, that’s what Becky said. To be fair, Abby did catch Grace looking over at their booth more than a few times. Today seemed to be no exception as Grace peered over at them with curiosity and not a small bit of worry at seeing Hazel and her pies.

  “I think you may have made your point,” Abby said hiding her hand from everyone else as she pointed in the direction of Callahan’s booth.

  Becky looked and then gave a wide grin, beginning to whistle as she started to cut pie pieces and set them on paper plates. “Well, I must say I don’t do this to beat her, but it sure doesn’t hurt to see Grace get a taste of her own medicine.”

  “Hello to the ladies in the booth!” Came a familiar voice, making Abby turn to see John Troutdale moving toward their booth. John was smiling, his gleaming teeth shining out of his tanned face as he walked up. Today, he had left his pinstripe suit wherever he was staying and was dressed down in a clean shirt, tasteful fabric jacket and slacks. His two thugs, as Abby named them privately in her mind, were noticeably absent.

  “Hello, John,” Abby said, smiling at the man and trying to ignore Becky’s staring at her. “I’m glad you came! We’re just setting out the pies, even if it is a bit early in the morning. Where are your two shadows, Reggie and Brian?”

  “It’s never too early for pie, though Reggie and Brian were called away on some emergency business,” John replied, taking Abby’s hand and shaking it warmly before turning to look at Hazel and a still-shocked Becky. “And who are these two lovely ladies? Sisters?”

  Abby laughed and shook her head, turning to introduce her friends. “This is my best friend and owner of this esteemed booth, Becky Northridge. Next to her, and you’d better be nice, is my grandmother, Hazel Morgan. Also the architect of these beautiful pies so, you know, you’d better make all sorts of yum noises when you eat them.”

  When John shook Becky’s limp hand, Becky could only stare at him in a kind of bemused shock, but Hazel laughed softly as he took her hand. “Such a handsome devil who lies with a silver tongue. Sister’s indeed. Besides, I’m engaged to a very handsome man myself, so don’t go trying to steal me away.”

  John grinned. “Engaged? So I am too late, then? Well, I’ll just have to console myself with some of that pie. It smells wonderful, by the way. Apple?”

  “Yes, indeed,” Hazel said. “With some added pear. Did you want vanilla or chocolate ice cream with that?”

  John thought for a moment before responding. “I think vanilla sounds wonderful,”

  Abby moved to the coolers that contained the ice cream. Becky followed Abby back, and when Abby leaned down to open the coolers, Becky leaned down with her.

  “Is that the man from the bank?” Becky whispered, looking at Abby with a wide-eyed gaze.

  Abby shrugged and nodded. “Yes, as a matter of fact, it is.

  “And you met him where?” Becky hissed, glancing back at the man chatting amiably with Hazel. “More importantly, when were you going to tell me?”

  “I hadn’t had the chance yet,” Abby answered quietly while pulling out one of the whipped cream tins. “I was at the Food Emporium when a couple of bikers tried to kidnap me. John and his goons came by just in time to drive them off.”

  Becky gave Abby a horrified look before slowly shaking her head. “Bikers and goons? How does this stuff keep happening to you?”

  Abby shrugged, not having an answer as she scooped out the ice cream and whipped topping. Finally, the slice of pie was ready, and as she took it back to the front counter, Becky leaned in once more. “You are so going to tell me what happened later.”

  Abby nodded, but her smile faded quickly when she saw the Sheriff standing in front of the booth. He was acting casual, but clearly giving John a discerning eye.

  Chapter 11

  “Morning Hazel,” Sheriff Pearson said in his slow drawl as he tipped his hat. “Looks like you have your world famous pies out for sale. Doesn’t seem very sporting for the other food vendors here.”

  “Well, it’s the last farmers market of the year, Bob,” Hazel said, smiling. “I figure it wouldn’t sour anyone’s grapes too much, would it?”

  “I suppose not,” he answered, once again tipping his hat at Abby and Becky when they came up. The man was polite, but Abby could feel all of his attention was squarely on John who seemed to be blissfully digging into the pie and ice cream.

  “This is some of the best pie I’ve ever had,” John said, smiling brilliantly at Abby and then turned to Hazel. “You know, if you ever wanted to sell this to a wider region, I own a chain of smoothie places up in Seattle. I could totally get these pies set up in my stores, and into several restaurants I have stakes in.”

  “Oh, well, Mr. Troutdale, I wouldn’t know the first thing about setting up some sort of business,” Hazel said, blinking as she thought about what he said. It was clearly not what she had been expecting.

  “No, I’m serious,” John said, gesturing with his fork. “I’ve dealt with a fair number of business ventures, and this could be successful if we do it right.”

  Hazel was about to answer when the Sheriff broke in. His voice was the same, polite tone he’d used with the ladies of the booth but his eyes shifted into hard, pale blue agates. “Just how many business ventures, Mr. Troutdale?” the Sheriff asked in his deep, vibrating voice.

  John paused, his smile frozen on his face as he turned toward the Sheriff. “Well, if you know my name, then you’ve probably done some research on me, Sheriff? You probably know there quite a few businesses that I manage.”

  The Sheriff nodded slowly. “Indeed I have, Mr. Troutdale. Indeed I have, though I doubt I kn
ow all of them. Importing and exporting. Shipping. High-end car sales, and a smoothie business.” The Sheriff tilted his head, looking at John with one eye squinted under his bushy eyebrow. “Did I miss anything?”

  John smiled and shrugged, “A few, but you hit the major ones. Have you tried the pie? You look like you need to eat some pie. It will make anyone smile.” He grinned and pointed his fork at the Sheriff. “You really look like you need to smile more often.”

  “I’ve had the pie before, Mr. Troutdale. It’s just as good as you say it is.” The Sheriff paused, shifting his feet a bit before he spoke. “Can I ask what your business is in town?”

  “Are you going to ask me to get out of town by sundown, too?” John asked without breaking his smile. “That’s what comes next, I hear.”

  The Sheriff chuckled and shook his head. “Mr. Troutdale-“

  “Elk hunting,” John broke in. “My friends and I are just here for elk hunting, Sheriff.”

  “Nothing else?” The Sheriff asked sharply.

  “Nothing that will do anyone any harm,” John answered slowly before taking another bite of the pie.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Sheriff Pearson said just before his shoulder radio crackled with the now familiar voice of Lanie on the other end.

  “Sheriff, are you there?” Lanie said, her voice heavy with concern.

  The Sheriff reached up and clicked on the radio, leaning toward it but not taking his eyes off of John. “I’m here, Lanie. What’s going on?”

  “Sir, we’ve got a twelve forty-nine-A out at the Hole-In-The-Wall Bar. I repeat, we have a twelve forty-nine-A in progress. Shots fired.” Lanie said.

  The Sheriff immediately went from relaxed to running toward his patrol car. Abby wasn’t sure what had happened, but when she looked at John, his face was grim. He put his pie down on the table as he watched the Sheriff get into his patrol car, flip on his lights, and roar out of the parking lot.