Murder Most Wholesome

by Staci McLaughlin

Ashlee picked at a cuticle. “You wouldn’t know that from the people who bring their pets in to see us.”

  “You mean Ryan isn’t the only member of the commune who’s a customer?”

  “Heck no, but most of them are old and totally out of it. That’s why I was surprised when he told me he lived out there. He’s way too hip. Anyway, they probably come to us because we’re one of the cheaper vets in town.”

  “Or maybe it’s your sparkling personality that draws them in.”

  “Could be,” Ashlee said, taking my comment at face value. “But they’d better get their act together or they won’t be customers for much longer.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “Their checks keep bouncing. My boss was yelling about it the other day. He said from now on we’re only allowed to treat the animals if the people from the commune pay up front and in cash.”

  “Did Ryan mention money troubles while you were out with him?”

  Ashlee gave me an incredulous look. “You’re kidding, right? Like a guy is going to tell me he’s broke on our first date? He’s trying to score a hookup here, you know.”

  “Good point. Only Jason mentioned the commune is in financial trouble, and I’m wondering how many people are aware of the problem.”

  “Don’t know and don’t care.” Ashlee rose from the table. “I’m off to bed.”

  “Right behind you,” I said. “It’s been a long day, and I’m expecting tomorrow to be much the same.”

  I flipped off the kitchen light once more and headed for my room. I hadn’t been kidding when I’d told Ashlee tomorrow could be a challenge, considering how badly breakfast and lunch had gone today. But at least I wasn’t wondering if my next check would bounce, like the people at the commune. I’d have to ask Jason if he knew who was in charge of the finances at that place. If it was Birch, that might be the reason he was dead.

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, I bounded out of bed before my alarm even rang. I showered, got ready, and was out the apartment door before Ashlee had even woken up. Who knew where this extra energy was coming from? But I wasn’t going to question it. I needed all the help I could get while preparing today’s meals.

  The Meat and Potatoes market was bordering on deserted at this early hour. I made my way through the aisles. Before leaving the apartment, I’d settled on vegetable soup with sourdough bread, a lunchtime meal I’d seen Zennia serve often. I finished my shopping in less than fifteen minutes and was soon on the highway, heading to work.

  Once at the farm, I followed the side path past the vegetable garden, turned at the cabins, and cut across the patio before entering through the back door. Zennia was such a standard fixture in the kitchen that I felt a pang in my chest when I saw the empty room. I forced myself to hum as I unpacked the groceries with the idea that it might alleviate the silence, but everything still felt off. The energy that had propelled me forward all morning was noticeably lower as I folded the reusable bags and stuck them in the pantry. Maybe I’d call Zennia later today and see how she was feeling and whether she was ready to return to work.

  With that thought in mind, I got busy and finished breakfast prep before the first guest even walked into the dining room. By the time people were done eating, I’d washed most of the dishes and even foraged in the garden for lunch ingredients. Maybe yesterday was merely a case of first-day jitters, and the cooking would be easier from now on.

  Yeah, right.

  I was chopping zucchini when Gretchen came in the back door. “Hey, Dana, how’s it going?”

  “Better today. I didn’t even burn the eggs at breakfast. Of course, that’s because I didn’t cook any eggs.” I scraped the zucchini into a bowl and set it aside. “How’s business at the spa?”

  “Hectic. I worked right through my lunch break yesterday. I ended up eating a stale granola bar I found in the bottom of my bag. Looks to be just as busy today.”

  “If I remember, I’ll bring you a bowl of soup after I’ve finished serving the guests.”

  “That’d be great, if you’re sure it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No problem. I’ll stop by later.”

  I finished chopping the vegetables, added them to the pot with the rest of the ingredients, and put the soup on to simmer. On my way to the office, I texted Jason to see how his day was going.

  My phone chimed before I could set it down, and I read his reply. “Gr8. C U 2nite?”

  I thought about my plans for the evening. I wanted to do a trial run on one of the recipes I’d picked out last night before subjecting the guests to it. What better way to test a new dish than with a guinea pig?

  I texted Jason back and offered to cook him tofu stir-fry for dinner. I left out the part about him being my guinea pig.

  He took so long to reply that I worried I’d scared him off with my offer to cook, but my phone finally chimed. “C U @ 6.”

  I put my phone in my pocket and focused on the day’s marketing work. For the next few hours, I argued with editors over ad placement, tried to think up a new theme for the Web site, and fine-tuned a postcard I’d been working on. I saved my work and went into the kitchen to complete the final preparations for lunch. Esther came in the back door at the same time I walked into the kitchen.

  “Dana, I have a few minutes and thought I’d give you a hand. What can I do?”

  “Could you fill one pitcher with ice water and the other with lemonade? That’ll give me a chance to add a few more things to the soup.”

  “Is that what smells so delicious?”

  I moved to the stove and stirred the contents of the pot. “I found an easy recipe in one of my mom’s cookbooks, but I don’t think I’ve ever chopped this many vegetables in my life.”

  Esther picked up a pitcher and started to fill it with ice. “Gordon told me what a wonderful job you’ve been doing in Zennia’s absence.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “You heard those actual words come out of Gordon’s mouth?”

  Esther laughed. “You sound surprised. He may not tell you often enough, or at all, but he thinks you’re a real asset here. Those were his exact words.”

  I felt a swell of pride. “How about that.”

  I sampled the soup to make sure I didn’t need to add any salt and then grabbed a stack of bowls. While Esther finished filling the water pitcher, I ladled out the soup.

  Esther hefted up the pitcher. “Be back in a jiff to do the lemonade.”

  “I’m right behind you.” I grabbed the two nearest bowls, double-checked to make sure I hadn’t sloshed any soup on the rims, and followed Esther to the dining room. More of the tables seemed to be occupied than at breakfast, and I did a quick count to see how many bread baskets I would need. Ten people sat at six tables. My biggest crowd yet, if you could call ten people a crowd.

  Esther started to make the rounds with the water pitcher while I carried the two bowls to the closest table. Even before I reached it, I could smell the cigarette smoke wafting off the diner whose back was to me.

  She turned her head as I approached, and I saw it was Olive, Birch’s sister. Either the smoke still clung to her from working a shift at the casino this morning, or she smoked as much as the patrons there did. I set the soup in front of her and her companion.

  “Thanks again for bringing me out here,” Olive said to the woman she was dining with.

  The other woman, who had painfully brittle bleached-blond hair and a weathered face, yanked her napkin from under the silverware. “You need a day where other people take care of you,” she said. “You’re working too hard. Plus, I got a coupon.”

  I wanted to linger and see what else Olive and her friend would talk about, but the other diners were waiting. I went back to the kitchen to retrieve more soup. I finished delivering the meals and noticed that Esther was still making the rounds with her original pitcher of water, seemingly stopping at each table to talk to the diners at length. It was nice to see her spending more time with the guests.


  Since Esther was busy, I prepared the pitcher of lemonade and carried it to the dining room. I returned to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee and wipe down the counters. Esther came in as I was hanging up the dishrag.

  “These guests are the nicest people,” she gushed. She set the empty water pitcher on the kitchen table. “Everyone kept talking about how much they love walking the trails and seeing the animals. One woman swore she and her husband would be back every year for their anniversary.”

  “Fantastic. Any complaints about the food?”

  “Not a word. One woman even told me her lunch was delicious.”

  I almost missed the cup I was pouring coffee into. “Really?” I’d been so worried about people being unhappy with the food that I hadn’t even considered receiving compliments.

  “Yes, she couldn’t believe how crunchy all the vegetables were.”

  Was that a good thing for vegetable soup?

  I took a sip of coffee to make sure I’d made a decent pot, and then carried the carafe out to the dining room. More than half the guests had abandoned their tables, including Olive and her friend, and it didn’t take long to serve coffee to the rest. I cleared the tables while Esther started washing dishes. As I was packing up the leftovers, I set aside a serving for Gretchen.

  When the kitchen was almost as shiny as Zennia normally kept it, I thanked Esther for her help.

  She patted my hand. “I’m glad I could be here for a change.”

  “How’s your friend in the hospital doing?”

  “The doctors mentioned complications today, which means she’s not out of the woods yet. That reminds me I’d better get back and check on her. She’s probably awake from her nap by now.”

  As soon as she left, I picked up Gretchen’s container of food and headed out the back door. I stopped at Wilbur’s pen on my way by. He eyed the container in my hand and snorted in a tone that definitely sounded like begging.

  “Sorry, buddy, not for you.”

  He sighed and threw himself down in the mud.

  “Taking it a little hard, aren’t you?”

  His only reply was a twitch of his tail. I shrugged and continued past the chicken coop and over to the spa. When Esther first told me that we’d be erecting what was essentially a giant tent for the spa, I’d questioned the durability, but once I’d seen the thick vinyl walls, the real doors and windows, and the heating and cooling system I’d changed my mind. The place was even carpeted.

  As I stepped into the lobby area of the spa, I could hear Gretchen talking in the nearest partitioned section. I set the soup on the small mosaic-tiled table between the two rattan chairs.

  I wasn’t sure how long Gretchen and her client would be, but I had a few spare minutes, so I settled into one of the chairs and texted Ashlee to remind her to take out the trash. She immediately responded that it wasn’t her turn. We argued back and forth until I suddenly noticed the voices were getting closer, signaling an end to Gretchen’s session. I stood up and tucked my phone out of sight as Gretchen appeared around the corner. I did a double-take when I saw Olive and her friend in tow.

  “I haven’t felt this relaxed in years,” Olive was saying. Gretchen murmured a thanks and moved to the hostess stand. Olive’s friend pulled her wallet out of her purse, and Olive laid a hand on her arm. “At least let me cover the tip.” She began to rummage in her own bag as she walked toward the stand.

  Before she could reach Gretchen, her foot caught on the carpet, and she lost her balance. She jerked her arms out, but it did nothing to stop her forward momentum. I could only watch in helpless horror as she fell to the floor with a thud.

  Chapter 16

  Olive hit the floor, catching herself with her shoulder, while her friend let out a shriek. I rushed to Olive’s side, fearing she might be seriously injured, but she was already pushing herself up. Gretchen moved to Olive’s other side, and together, we eased her to her feet.

  “Talk about a klutz,” she said, her voice shaky. She was leaning heavily on my arm, and I could hear her labored breathing.

  “Let’s get you to a chair,” I said.

  Gretchen and I guided Olive toward the rattan chair I’d been sitting in a moment before. We lowered her down while her friend hovered in the background, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

  “I’ll get a glass of water,” Gretchen said. She darted out of the room.

  I knelt down in front of Olive. “Are you hurt? Would you like me to call a doctor?”

  She let out a little laugh. “Please don’t bother. I’m okay.” She put her hand to her face. “Only embarrassed.”

  “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” I said, “but I want to make sure you’re all right.”

  Gretchen returned with the glass of water and handed it to Olive. She accepted it with a mumbled thanks and took several gulps.

  Olive’s friend moved over to where Olive had tripped and inspected the carpet. “Gosh, Olive, you sure took a tumble. These places need to be more careful with their older clientele.” She looked pointedly at Gretchen and me.

  “I’m not an old lady, Connie. I barely qualify for Social Security.” Olive lifted one foot. “It’s these two left feet of mine. I never was very graceful.”

  Gordon entered the spa as Gretchen retrieved the empty water glass from Olive. When he saw our clients, he fixed the knot in his tie and gave Olive and Connie a large smile that reminded me of the Big Bad Wolf. “Good afternoon, ladies. I hope you’re enjoying our services here at the O’Connell Organic Farm and Spa.”

  Olive perked up under Gordon’s attention. “Gretchen is a wonder. I almost fell asleep right in the middle of the massage. It’s my first one, you know.”

  “We’re honored you chose our humble spa for such an experience.”

  I suppressed a chuckle. When Gordon wanted to keep the clients happy, the charm flowed out of him like water from a faucet.

  “Well, I’m not too glad we did,” Connie griped.

  Gordon gave an almost imperceptible flinch, only detectable by a tiny facial tic. “Are you displeased with the service?”

  Connie waved her arm toward where Olive sat in the chair, studying her hands. “Olive here fell flat on her face a minute ago. Must have been a bump in the carpet.”

  Gordon’s usually tan face paled. He turned to Olive. “Are you injured?”

  She shook her head and gave Connie a pleading look, clearly not wanting to dwell on her fall. “Connie’s making a fuss over nothing. I was digging around in my purse and not paying attention to where I was walking.” She waved toward the hostess stand where she’s tripped.

  Gordon went over to the spot, bent down, and ran his hand over the carpet. “I don’t feel anything.” He stood and returned to Olive. “Still, your visit here today is on the house.” He twisted his pinkie ring. “Gretchen, if they’ve already paid, make sure you refund their money.” He smiled again at Olive and Connie, though this time it looked strained. “I hope that will help with this unpleasantness.”

  Olive stood. “You really don’t—” she started, but Connie cut her off.

  “It’s the least they can do. You can be sure I’ll be keeping my money right here in my wallet.”

  “But, Gretchen, you should still get that tip,” Olive said.

  Gretchen started to respond, but I missed what she said as Gordon took me by the elbow. “A moment of your time, please.” He kept one eye on the women as he led me out of the spa.

  “We need to do something about this,” he hissed when we were out of earshot.

  “The massage was free. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

  Gordon ran his hand through his slicked-back hair, and I wondered if his fingers would come away greasy. “The lady who fell might accept that, but her friend seems like the type who holds a grudge. She might convince the other one that we’re negligent. Next thing you know, she’ll hire a lawyer, and we’ll be out of business.”

  “Not that I think she’s going to sue, but don�
��t we have liability insurance?” I asked.

  “Of course, but once you file a claim, the rates skyrocket.” He twisted his ring again. “You should offer them a complimentary dessert, as well.”

  My heartbeat quickened as I mentally visualized the contents of the pantry and refrigerator. Nothing sweet came to mind. “Dessert?” I asked, hoping I’d heard him wrong.

  “Maybe organic brownies. That’s a real thing, right?” He snapped his fingers. “Wait, what are those cookies Zennia bakes with all those seeds and nonsense?”

  “I have no idea,” I said, wondering if I could even locate her recipe, let alone the ingredients. “How about a tour of the farm instead?” The suggestion came out of nowhere, but as I thought about it, the idea started to bear fruit. “I could walk them through the gardens, talk about what ingredients I used for today’s soup. I bet they’d love to meet Wilbur and his pig pals.” And I’d love to talk to Olive about Birch, since Zennia and I had learned nothing at the casino.

  Gordon nodded as I spoke. “Be sure to throw in how Esther was forced to convert her farm to a bed-and-breakfast after her husband died so she wouldn’t lose her land and her livelihood. That should guilt them into not suing. I’d love to have both sign a waiver, too, but that might be pushing it.”

  I held up my hands as if that would stop him. “No way. You don’t want to give them the idea of suing if they haven’t thought of it themselves.”

  “Trust me, they already have, but maybe we can help them forget.”

  Gordon gave the knot in his tie one last adjustment and led the way back inside the spa. Olive and Connie were laughing at whatever Gretchen had said. If any ill will lurked beneath the surface, I couldn’t sense it.

  I approached the trio. “If you’re finished here, how about a tour of the farm? We have a variety of gardens that are all thriving this time of year, plus several farm animals and two nature trails that wind through the back of the property.”

  “I don’t know,” Connie said. “My knees have been acting up lately.” She turned to Olive. “And you shouldn’t be on your feet after that tumble you took.”