Candy Slain Murder

by Maddie Day

  “Thanks,” Bashir said. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s eat and talk it over.”

  Tanesha thanked me, too, and followed him to a two-top across the room.

  Buck moseyed over. “Figgered you needed my table. Sure was a good breakfast, Robbie.” He handed me too much money, as usual.

  “Thanks. Glad you liked it.” I carefully turned an order of two over easy and lowered my voice. “Any news on either of the cases?”

  He turned his back to the restaurant and leaned an elbow on the counter. “Not much. Only been two days, you know, for poor Beltonia.”

  And ten years for her sister. “Can you at least tell me how Toni died?”

  “Octavia’s people are still working on that. Autopsy’s scheduled for this afternoon, I do believe. Kind of frustrating, between me and you. I saw her corpse after the cleaning lady called us,” Buck said. “She had this look of panic on her face. It was the oddest thing.”

  “Panic. But why?” I smelled something overdone and turned my focus onto the grill. I saved the bacon, turned a few pancakes, and slid the eggs onto a plate.

  “Autopsy can answer that. There are drugs, though, that can make you stop breathing. Anybody would panic at that feeling.”

  I shivered, remembering something from my dreams. Was it a giant syringe? The memory faded away, as dream memories do.

  “Anyhoo,” Buck went on, “the other odd thing was that the woman wasn’t wearing nothing but her birthday suit. In December, can you believe it? She had a puffy quilt on the bed, but it wasn’t covering her.” He shook his head. “Who goes and gets herself in bed alone in the altogether? You know, buck naked, so to speak.”

  “Huh. Maybe she liked the feeling of being naked between the sheets.” I wasn’t going to get personal and tell him I enjoyed that feeling, myself, in the summertime. He and I were friends, but not that good of friends. I dished up the pancakes and bacon, buttered two slices of toast, and dinged the Ready bell.

  “Leastwise she had the heat on,” he continued. “It wasn’t that cold in the bedroom. Sure would like to know what killed her, though. And more important-like, who.”

  “Why does Octavia think it was murder and not a heart attack?” I asked. “Somebody told me Toni had cardiac issues.” Who had it been?

  “Is that so?” Buck cocked his head.

  The source came to me. “It was Jamie Franklin, last night at Bible and Brew.”

  Danna arrived and grabbed the finished plates.

  “Thanks, Danna,” I said.

  She inclined her chin without speaking.

  Turner slid past her and deposited dirty dishes in the sink. “You were right, Robbie,” he said. “It’s super busy this morning.”

  “I’ll say,” I agreed.

  “Shoot,” Buck said. “I wanted to go to that there Bible party last night, but duty came first. No drinking for me during a murder investigation.”

  I smiled. “Samuel and I are going to do it again next month. We’d love to have you. Anyway, Clive said Toni took medication for her heart.”

  “I’ll check with the good detective, see if she’s aware of that. I best be getting to work, now. You take care, Robbie.”

  “Thanks, Buck. You too.”

  He pulled his black cap down over his ears.

  “And Buck?” I added. “Good luck.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Danna was still frowning two hours later. Only a few of the tables were occupied. I’d taken a quick pit stop and then munched a grilled sandwich with a discarded broken fried egg I’d topped with cheddar.

  “Danna, why don’t you take your break?”

  “I will.” She threw her apron in the box and headed for the office corner, already thumbing her phone.

  I slid on a clean apron and watched her go. I sidled up to Turner, who had come back from delivering an order. I kept my voice low. “Did she talk to you about what’s bugging her?”

  “She did not.” Now he was frowning, too. “We have to find out, Robbie.”

  “Agreed.”

  He headed off to take money from a customer. I dished up the last two breakfast orders and dinged the bell. The ham stock was simmering by now, so I measured out enough dried split peas for the pot and dumped them in. We’d add the fresh frozen peas at the last minute. Danna started back from the corner but paused, frowning at her phone. She caught sight of me as I waved at her and walked slowly toward the kitchen area.

  “Split peas are in,” I told her.

  “Okay.”

  “I want you to tell me what’s going on.” I kept my voice calm and encouraging. I hoped. “It looked like Josie told you something that made you unhappy.”

  Danna took a deep breath, giving one nod as she let it out.

  Okay, I could pull teeth with the best of them. “What did you learn?”

  She turned away, but I touched her arm.

  “Danna, tell me. Was it something about your mom? About the murder? About Marcus? Come on, girl, dish.”

  She faced me again, eyes flashing. “All right, I’ll tell you. My own grandma—Marcus’s grandmother, too, mind you—said he’s had serious anger management problems. That he was accused of assault as a minor. I don’t believe it. Not. A. Word.” She punctuated the last three words with vehemence I rarely heard from her.

  Assault? That didn’t sound good, but the story corroborated what Phil had told me. What kind of assault? I wondered how Josie had found out, but then again, she was an expert in all things digital. She’d apparently done the digging I’d been meaning to and hadn’t gotten around to.

  “She said he had to go to some group to learn how to deal with his temper.”

  “Did she mean a therapy group?” I asked. From what I’d seen, he could use something like that.

  “I guess. Court-mandated. Robbie, the worst part is I think Josie doesn’t trust him. Or maybe doesn’t even believe he’s my brother. I mean, what’s up with that? Even Mom recognized him!” She shook her head, hard.

  Turner brought a load of dishes. Danna turned to the stove, grabbing a long-handled wooden spoon, and stirred the soup. Turner tilted his head toward her. I raised a finger in a wait gesture.

  I thought about the right thing to say. “Dan, you know Josie loves you. She’s looking out for you. I’m sure everything’s fine. If Marcus has been in an anger therapy group for some years, then he’s working on his issues, and that’s a good thing.” I caught Turner making his mouth into an O of surprise.

  “I guess.” Danna stirred with more vigor than necessary.

  “And the accusations from William Geller are simply that, a bunch of hot air. I haven’t heard that Octavia is suspecting Marcus of anything, have you?”

  She shook her head, her back still toward us.

  “So there you have it. Are you going to see him again soon?”

  Finally Danna faced us. “Isaac and I are going into Bloomington to hang out with him tonight. I want them to get to know each other.”

  “You’ll fix it up with your grandma, Danna.” Turner gave her shoulder a gentle fist bump. “She needs to get to know Marcus, too. I liked him a lot when he was in here. The dude is cool. She’ll come around. Grandmas are like that.”

  I’d never known my mom’s and Adele’s mother. I’d met Roberto’s mother when I visited him in Italy, but she had a bit of dementia. She’d been sweet to me, though. She gave me a big smile and kept looking between her son—my father—and me with a sage gaze, over and over. I’d simply squeezed her age-spotted parchment-skin hand and smiled back.

  Right now, though, I was thinking I’d like to have a one-on-one chat with Josie Dunn sometime very soon. What if Marcus was a powder keg waiting to ignite? I shuddered at the thought of the unstable young men who had caused so much grief with their assault weapons in recent years. Schools, places of worship, theaters, even clubs—nowhere seemed safe or off-limits. I’d do anything to protect Danna, my customers, our community from that kind of mass slaughter.

&nbs
p; “Whatever.” Danna gave her body a shake. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Robbie, should we top the soup with crumbled bacon when we serve it?”

  “Why not? It’s already made with ham stock, so vegetarians won’t want to eat it, anyway. Do we have enough bacon?”

  Danna leaned down and checked the under-counter fridge. “Yeah. I’ll start cooking it now.”

  “Maybe we should divvy up what’s in the big pot into smaller ones, so we can add the frozen peas like two quarts at a time,” Turner suggested.

  “Good idea. Otherwise they’ll overcook. But let’s just do one saucepan at a time.”

  “Right,” he said. “Good idea.”

  I surveyed the restaurant. “Turner, take your break now while you can.”

  “Will do.”

  I headed over to two middle-aged couples at a four-top. They looked about finished with their meal. “Can I get you folks something else?”

  “I’m fixing to do me some shopping,” one of the women said.

  “Sounds good.” I smiled. “Would you like me to hold your check and combine the amounts if you find something you’d like to buy?”

  “The meal is on me,” said the man sitting opposite her.

  “Thanks, hon,” the first woman said. To me she added, “No, thanks. I’m not going to make my brother-in-law here pay for my shopping habit.” She guffawed.

  Her husband rolled his eyes. I handed the other man the ticket for the four of them. I turned when the doorbell jangled, and my eyes widened to see Jamie Franklin. Good. One more person I wanted to have a little talk with.

  I gave him a wave. “Sit anywhere, Jamie,” I called.

  But he didn’t budge, shaking his head slowly.

  I made my way over to him. “Are you here to eat?”

  “Did you hand over the journals?” His eyes bore dark pockets beneath them, as if he hadn’t slept all night.

  “Yes,” I said. “You asked me to, remember?”

  “I know.”

  “Are you all right?” I asked in a low voice.

  “I worried all night about what might have been in them.” His voice shook.

  I knew part of what they contained, but I wasn’t going to tell him I’d leafed through the books. “Tell me something. Did Kristina have an issue with attics, by chance? Had she had a bad experience in one, or . . .” I let my voice trail off. I was sure I’d seen the word “attic” on the pages.

  “How did you know?” he asked in surprise.

  “I didn’t. I’m simply curious.” And if she died in one, she might have been terrified.

  “She hated attics, every aspect of them. Low eaves with the business end of nails sticking through. Spiders and cobwebs. Low light and uneven floorboards. But the worst thing was, Toni had locked her in the attic of their house as a child.” He narrowed his eyes as he spat out the name. “Kristina would never have gone up into her own attic voluntarily.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jamie left without eating, and I texted Octavia what he’d said. Which, combined with the journals, probably meant she was going to bring him in for questioning, but that was her business. I’d done my due diligence. Poor Kristina, terrified of attics and apparently dying in her own, unless she’d been killed elsewhere and deposited there. Why would Toni have locked her in an attic when they were children, though? I thought twins were usually closer than that. Maybe Toni had had a mean streak her whole life. Marcus had mentioned she hadn’t been very nice to him. She’d also kicked her second husband out of the house, and didn’t seem to have gotten along with stepson Jamie. Could Toni have killed Kristina, as horrifying as that thought was?

  I flashed on what Shirley had told me yesterday, about Sean mowing the lawn for Toni. I texted him, asking him to come by if he had a minute to chat during the day. He might know something about Toni, or about Shirley, for that matter.

  The lunch rush started way early, with the restaurant filling up well before eleven-thirty. The three of us took orders, flipped, served, bused, and started over. At about twelve-thirty Sean ambled in, with Buck close behind him. I wiped my hands on a towel and hurried over to them.

  “Welcome, gentlemen. Are you here together?”

  Sean shook his head but smiled. “He happened to come in right behind me.” Sean’s cheeks were rosy, and he wore a hoodie in place of a winter coat. At least he had on gloves.

  “But we both agreed we’re awfully dang hungry,” Buck added.

  “Did you ride your bike here?” I asked Sean.

  “Yeah, but it’s almost too cold to. Brrr.” He hugged himself.

  “You might want to wear a warmer coat, son,” Buck said.

  “It is cold today. I’ve switched to my indoor cycle,” I said, “even though I miss riding outdoors. It’s not worth getting frozen.” Come to think of it, I hadn’t even ridden indoors in a few days. I hoped I could squeeze in a cardio workout this afternoon after we closed. I often rode with my good friend Lou, but she had spent the whole semester doing her doctoral research at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, so we hadn’t ridden together since August.

  “I know what you mean,” Sean agreed. “But since I can’t drive yet, my choices are, like, to ride, walk, or beg for someone to drive me.”

  “I remember those days,” I said. Except being a bike-riding adolescent in Santa Barbara hadn’t included freezing my tush off.

  “I know Buck’s here for lunch,” I said. “Are you going to eat, too, Sean?”

  “Please. It smells super awesome in here.”

  “You can say that again,” Buck said. “We can share a table, right, O’Neill?”

  “Sure,” Sean said. He knew Buck well enough not to be uncomfortable eating alone with a grown-up, and a local cop, at that.

  I smiled at the pair of beanpoles as two women rose from their table across the room, and no one was waiting for a two-top. “Go snag that table.” I pointed. “I’ll be right over to clear it.” I might get to witness that eat-off, after all.

  “Thanks,” Sean said. “You said you wanted to ask me something?”

  “I do. I’ll stop by when I get a minute.” I headed back to the kitchen. Danna was already on her way to clear the table, and Turner had just rung the Ready bell. I loaded up lunch for four and delivered it. On my way to Buck and Sean I was waylaid by a half dozen customers ready to order, wanting their checks, pointing at empty coffee mugs. I back got to the two-top as soon as I could.

  “We have a hearty split pea soup on special, guys,” I said.

  Buck pointed to Sean. “Let the lad order first.”

  “I love pea soup.” Sean looked up from his phone. “Gramps makes a mean one. Is it with a ham bone?”

  “We made the stock that way, yes,” I said. “And we’ve added crumbled bacon on top.”

  “Yes, please, and a double cheeseburger.”

  “I’ll have the same,” Buck said. “Double dessert, too. You, O’Neill?”

  “Of course!” Sean grinned.

  “Coming right up.” I glanced around. Turner was signaling that food was ready, and Danna was busy cleaning. The place was chock full and buzzing with conversation and the clink of flatware on porcelain. I spied a customer at the cash register holding three pieces of cookware. Lunchtime on the first shopping Saturday before Christmas? This was not a good time to ask Sean about Toni or to fill Buck in about Kristina and attics. “I’ll be back.”

  After I handed Turner the order, I headed first to the cash register, ringing up a lethal-looking curved chopper and the aged wooden bowl it fit perfectly in. I thanked the customer.

  “Merry Christmas, Miss.” He smiled. “Or the happy holiday of your choice. I ain’t picky.”

  “Thank you. I’m not either.”

  “Last time I checked, Christmas was a holiday. Might’s well not offend no one, that’s what I say.” He ambled toward the door.

  I wished everyone had such an accepting view of the season. I wondered how Marcus reacted when people
wished him a Merry Christmas. He’d seemed pretty secure in his beliefs when William had suggested he remove his cap and Marcus had refused.

  I returned to Sean and Buck with their orders ten minutes later. “Enjoy.” The restaurant had calmed down a little. I leaned in a bit. “Sean, I hear you mow Toni Franklin’s lawn in the summers.”

  He nodded around a mouthful of burger. I was glad he swallowed before speaking. Buck noticed the nod and went on high alert.

  “I do,” Sean said. “I mean, I did. I shovel the walks, too. She hired somebody to plow the driveway, but I do the small stuff.” He shook his head. “It’s really awful, what happened to her.”

  “I know.” I reflected on how, in my youth, murder was not happening around me.

  Buck broke in. “Where’d you hear about young O’Neill’s employment, Robbie?”

  “Shirley Csik told me.” When he narrowed his eyes at me, I held up a hand. “I was Christmas shopping in Nashville yesterday. I happened across the store where she works, and . . .” Oops. I couldn’t say I’d bought a gift for Sean with him sitting right there. Wait, of course I could. I didn’t have to say what it was. “And Sean came up in conversation.”

  The boy blushed. “I’m not even going to ask.”

  “Don’t worry, Sean,” I said. “I was buying your Christmas present, that’s all, and she said she knew you. She told me you mowed for the duplex, which is cool.”

  “Ms. Csik is a super-nice lady,” Sean said. “Always gives me cookies and a coke when I’m done.”

  “How did Toni treat you?” I asked. “I mean, was she nice, too?”

  He rubbed his nose. “Not nice, exactly. I mean, she paid me, but she wasn’t usually around when I mowed, so I would have to go back to get my money. She would just, like, hand it to me without smiling. Never told me I did a good job or anything.”

  Buck set down his half-demolished burger and studied Sean. “Don’t suppose you was around that property on Thursday morning.”