A Potluck of Murder and Recipes

by Jeanne Cooney

  “Barbie?” I aimed to change the subject. “I’m sorry people made snide comments about you and Tom. I can’t believe they did that.” Using my fork, I shoved some Mac and Cheese around on my plate. “I’m also sorry I gave up on you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I laid my fork down as images of Barbie tearing up during the wedding ceremony played through my mind. “I’ve been thinking about the murder case. And while I don’t want to get tangled up in—”

  “You’ve already made that perfectly clear.”

  She sounded snippy, and even though I felt bad for her, I was miffed by her tone. After all, I was about to propose a compromise.

  I sucked in a long breath and exhaled slowly while silently counting to ten. It was something Randy often resorted to when dealing with me. He said it calmed him. But it did nothing for me. Reaching double digits, I still was chafing and couldn’t stop myself from exclaiming, “Staying clear of the investigation makes even more sense now that federal agents are involved.” Oops! What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I keep anything to myself?

  “Federal agents? How do you—”

  “I shouldn’t say. Just trust me, okay?”

  She nodded, knowing full well the source of my information. “Do you think Tiny’s one of those federal agents?”

  I couldn’t outright lie to her, so I hedged. “That would be my guess.”

  “Well, I’ll be . . .”

  “Barbie, my point is that while it wouldn’t be smart for us to keep nosing around, we can discuss the case. And, if we come up with any good ideas, we can pass them on to Randy or Ed or even Tiny.”

  She lifted her chin. “You’d do that?”

  “Don’t act so shocked. I’m not a complete ass.”

  “But you were adamant about—”

  “I know. I know. And, I’m still not going to sneak around or ask questions of people I don’t trust. This case is getting way too complex for us amateurs. On top of that, I have no interest in going to jail, which is exactly where Sheriff Halverson would prefer to put me. Yet, I’m willing to review things with you. If you want, that is.”

  Her eyes swam with emotion. “Thanks, Emme. Even though Randy believes Tom may be home free, I’m not naïve enough to think we can sit back and assume everything will work out.”

  “But, from here on out, we won’t interfere with the investigation. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  I wiped my mouth with my napkin. “So, what have you heard tonight? Anything new?”

  She chewed on her pepper while apparently filing through a catalog of thoughts. “Well, as I told you earlier, I phoned Dumb and Dumber when you were at lunch with Randy. The two of them were on duty at the sheriff’s office.”

  “Why do you even bother talking to those guys? You can’t possibly believe anything they say, can you?”

  She hitched her shoulders. “I don’t know. I’m usually able to smell when they’re blowing smoke, and this time around they seemed smoke free.” She offered a sly smile. “What’s more, I had them read directly from a document. That way I was certain the information they provided was accurate.”

  “A document? What kind of document?”

  “A list of all the wind-farm investors, how much money each put up, and when those investments were made.”

  “Where did they get the list?”

  “Off Ed’s desk.”

  “Couldn’t they get in trouble for that?”

  She dismissed my concern with a grunt. “They’re deputies, too. They have the right to know what’s going on. Besides, no one’s ever going to find out, are they, Emme?” Her tough countenance hammered home the intent of her remark.

  “Okay, okay, I won’t say anything to anybody. Not even Randy.” At the rate I was going, I’d soon be unable to talk to the man about anything except the weather.

  “So, Barbie, where did the police get this ‘document’?”

  “From a search of Greg Rogers’ office down in the Cities.”

  “And how’d you convince Dumb and Dumber to divulge the information on it?”

  “Blackmail,” she retorted, her voice even, not the slightest sign of guilt.

  I had nothing to say to that.

  “Emme, like I told you before, Burr wasn’t on the list. He didn’t invest in the project. And other than my husband and the President, there were only a few big-dollar contributors.”

  I almost uttered Buddy and Buford’s names before remembering I’d promised to keep quiet.

  “Buddy and Buford were on there,” she stated, making that promise moot. “They handed over $50,000 apiece early on.”

  I schooled my features, hoping they wouldn’t betray me. “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah. And about a year ago Booger and Delmont each invested $50,000.”

  “Well, we expected that.”

  “True, but I don’t believe either of us expected to see John Deere’s name pop up. Yet, it did. He invested $100,000.”

  “No way.”

  “Yep. He was one of the first investors in the local project. He invested directly with Greg Rogers a couple years ago.” She fiddled with the handle of her cup. “From what Dumb and Dumber said, John told Randy all about it at the bachelor party.”

  “But, when he spoke with Margie, he claimed he never invested.”

  “Well, he was one of the first. And, from what I understand, the President only got involved late last year. So, perhaps, he didn’t realize John had already given money when he made his pitch for investors at the bachelor party.”

  “That’s possible, I guess.” I dissected a noodle with my fork. “Now what? Do we tell Margie?”

  “Tell me what?”

  Oh, no! I’d been too caught up in our discussion to hear the new bride approach. “Oh . . . umm . . . hello, Margie,” I stuttered.

  “What do ya need to tell me?” While directing the question at me, she slid in next to Barbie.

  At the same time, I gaped at Barbie, hoping she’d help me out. But, rather than doing that, she became mesmerized by her food, as if she’d never seen a stuffed pepper before.

  That left me with no choice but to answer, “It wasn’t anything important.” I raised my coffee cup in a half-assed attempt to hide behind it.

  Margie snorted. “Emme, you’re a terrible liar. Worse than her.” She pitched her thumb at her seatmate. “Now, out with it.”

  “It was nothing. We were just gabbing about the murder case.”

  “And?”

  “And . . . I found out there’s a fraud investigation underway, too.”

  “A ‘federal’ fraud investigation,” Margie emphasized. “And Ed just phoned John to tell ’im federal agents arrested Greg Rogers in Minneapolis about an hour ago. Supposedly, he was at the center of it, and he was get-tin’ ready to skip the country.”

  That didn’t make sense. “Why did Ed call John?”

  “Because it turns out my new husband was not only one of the first local wind farm investors, he also was the first person to go to the authorities with suspicions that the state-wide wind-farm network was nothin’ but a gall-darn Ponzi scheme.”

  I tapped the table to get Margie’s full attention. “I thought he told you he never got involved in that deal.”

  “He did. Though he confessed otherwise this mornin’, when we were workin’ through the fallout from our fight last night.”

  Barbie twisted her torso to face Margie directly. “Why’d he lie, Margie? Did he have a good reason?”

  Recalling what Buddy had said, I responded on Margie’s behalf. “My guess? He assumed he’d lost his money and was too embarrassed to admit it to anyone, especially Margie.”

  “You’re right. But that’s only half the story.” Margie checked over her left shoulder before proceeding in a hushed tone. “See, in the beginnin’, he reckoned the wind farm would be a real money maker, so he told Buddy and Buford about it and even mentioned it to Little Val and Wally. And, wouldn’t ya know, the twins i
nvested right away, and about a year ago, Little Val and Wally did the same. Now it appears the whole lot of ’em has lost everythin’. No one’s seen a dividend check in months.”

  She tsked. “As you can imagine, John feels responsible. That’s why he went after Burr the way he did at the groom’s dinner. Ya see, shortly before the rehearsal, Ed phoned from the sheriff’s office with an update.” She took a much-needed breath. “Since John was the first to contact authorities about the scam, they keep him posted. Well, the local cops do, at any rate. Unofficially, of course.” A pinch of pride dusted her features.

  “Anyways, Ed told John he had interviewed Burr and would do so again real soon. Ed was certain Burr knew more than he was admittin’. And while it was awfully nice of ’im to fill John in, it wasn’t particularly smart because, right away, John decided he’d have a better shot at gettin’ the truth out of Burr, bein’ they’re friends and all. But, uff-da, we all know how that worked out.”

  Barbie pushed her plate away and leaned an elbow on the table. “You mean to tell me that John kept quiet all this time because he was humiliated?”

  “Not to mention a tad scared.” Margie smirked. “See, Vern and Vivian don’t believe in takin’ chances with money. I guess Vivian and I are a lot alike in that way. So John and the others didn’t mention the deal to me or either of them.” She knocked her knuckles against the table, but I got the impression she would have preferred to knock her new husband’s head a few time. “If Vivian ever discovers what happened, she’ll be fit to be tied. Especially if she learns it was at John’s urgin’.” She paused. “In that case, we won’t dare come back from Costa Rica. Ever!”

  “Still,” I stated, “the fundamental questions remains, if Boo-Boo’s death was related to that fraud scheme, who with ties to it wanted him dead? And why?”

  Barbie was quick to answer. “I can’t help you with the ‘why,’ Emme, but I’ll remind you that Tom’s been more or less scratched off the ‘who’ list.”

  “And John certainly didn’t have anythin’ to do with it,” Margie assured me. “Nor the twins. Remember, since they were early investors, they never even met your Boo-Boo and had no reason to do ’im any harm. Wally and Little Val can’t be serious suspects, either. Though this does explain why Wally started gamblin’ this past October. Obviously, he was tryin’ to recoup the money they’d lost.” She shook her head. “And here we thought the pressure of havin’ a baby simply got to ’im.” She smiled. “He’s doin’ just fine now, though. Goes to meetin’s and everythin’. He realizes how close he came to losin’ his family. He’d never risk them again. That’s for darn sure.”

  I eyeballed Barbie. “Okay, let’s consider the other investors. You know who they are and the amounts they put up, as well as—”

  “Wait a minute!” Margie appeared perplexed. “How do ya know—”

  “Don’t ask.” Barbie pulled her plate back in front of her, picked up her fork, and poked at her stuffed pepper. “There were dozens of other local investors. But their outlays were $25,000 or less, not enough to lead to murder in my estimation. And Ed agrees with me on that.”

  I wagged my finger. “Even so, tell us who they were.”

  Barbie pursed her lips, determined commas forming in the corners of her mouth as she clearly worked to recall some names. “Father Daley and Reverend Pearson. If I remember correctly, they each invested $5,000. One of the Sorensons and two of the Petersons were also on the list. But I can’t remember the amounts they contributed. It was either $15,000 or $20,000.” She grinned. “Mitzie Halverson, the sheriff’s wife, put up $25,000.”

  Margie butted in, her hand cupping her mouth. “I just heard she’s diddlin’ the President, if ya can imagine that.”

  Barbie dropped her fork. “I’d already been made aware of that but had managed to banish the images from my mind. Now, thanks to you, those pictures are back—some in vivid color—which means I’m all done eating.” She tossed her napkin on her plate.

  “Doggonit, Barbie, don’t kill the messenger.” Margie smoothed the front of her wedding dress, her features suggesting her feelings were hurt. In the blink of an eye, however, her desire to gossip must have won out over any sore feelings because, with a nod in my direction, she added as if she couldn’t help herself, “I was also told she’s been runnin’ around with lots of men, includin’ your Boo-Boo.”

  Deciding a discussion of Mitzie Halverson’s dalliances wouldn’t get us any closer to solving the matter at hand, and could possibly lead to nightmares on my part, I directed our conversation back to the investors. “Barbie, did any of the investors give you pause?”

  She pulled on her bottom lip. “Since Owen Bair was only after financial backers here in the Red River Valley, investors in the Twin Cities and elsewhere had no interaction with him and no reason to do him in.”

  “So . . .”

  “So, if we drop them from our list of suspects, along with all the small investors, as well as Tom and John, Buddy and Buford, and Little Val and Wally, we’re left with just the President, Booger, and Delmont.”

  I groaned. “Remember, the police don’t believe the President’s guilty.”

  “Okay. Then we’re down to Booger and Delmont.”

  “I don’t know.” While I had no evidence one way or another, my gut told me that neither of them was responsible for Boo-Boo’s death. Then, again, my gut hadn’t been performing all that well as of late.

  “Just two suspects.” Margie inclined her head. “That’s not much. But, I guess, it’s better than nothin’.” She caught Barbie’s eye. “Now what?”

  “We visit with Booger and Delmont. Hear them out.”

  I raised a finger. “Hold on. You swore we’d take our ideas to the police.”

  “Emme, I know these guys. It won’t be like I’m interrogating them. I’ll just visit with them, so to speak.”

  “But—”

  “You don’t have to go with me. I’ll do it on my own.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve got that right.”

  Margie scooted from the booth. “Well, you two figure it out. I can’t be lollygaggin’ back here all night. I need to get back to the party.”

  She leaned her fists against the table. “I mostly came in here to get away from Myrtle Benson. She’s in the other room, yapping about Bingo again.” Her pale blue eyes crinkled in amusement. “See, Lori Swanson’s cousin from out of town was visitin’ last week and won the Bingo jackpot at the Eagles. But since the cousin had unknowingly sat in Myrtle’s chair, Myrtle decided the jackpot was rightfully hers and demanded that it be handed over.” Margie tsked. “Of course, that didn’t happen, so Myrtle’s on a rampage. She’s actually petitioning for new Bingo rules. She wants to assign seats and limit play to local residents.” She clicked her tongue a couple more times. “If ya see her comin’, clipboard in hand, high tail it as fast as ya can.”

  Margie stepped toward the door before hollering at the boys playing on the stools along the counter. “Come on, it’s time ya kids got back in there, too.”

  The smart alec responded, “We don’t hafta.”

  Margie settled her hands on her hips, her expression fierce enough that I almost hurried from the room myself. “What did you say?”

  The boy opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  “Yah, that’s what I thought.” She crooked her finger at all four kids. “Now, get goin’.”

  With barely a sound, the boys got to their feet, then ran from the room, giving Margie a wide berth as they passed. She followed them out, muttering something about “all four of ’em goin’ to hell in a handbasket.”

  “If she could bottle that, she’d make a mint,” Barbie remarked.

  “No wonder John was afraid to confess he’d lost all that money. She can be scary.”

  Barbie wiped her hands on her napkin. “The two of them intend to keep their finances separate, so Margie probably doesn’t really care what he does with his money. But, as you said, he doesn’t w
ant to look foolish in her eyes.”

  “Now, let’s talk about Booger and Delmont. Would losing $50,000 be a problem for either of them, Barbie? Would they kill over it?”

  “Well, no one likes losing that kind of money. But doing so wouldn’t put either of them in the poor house. Don’t forget, most of the farmers around here are well off.” She hesitated. “The truth is, with the exception of my husband, all the big investors had the financial wherewithal to speculate the way they did. That’s why I’m still not convinced the murder’s tied to the wind-farm operation.”

  “But the police—”

  “I don’t care what the police say. A part of me continues to believe your Boo-Boo was killed because of his philandering.”

  “But—”

  “Emme, it’s how I feel. And, as reporters, we can’t discount our feelings.”

  “I used to believe that. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  She waved my comment away.

  “Well,” I began with no small amount of hesitation, “what exactly are you proposing?”

  “We need to create another list of suspects. One based on my theory.”

  I held back a sigh. “I doubt—”

  “Emme, what harm could it do?”

  “But Booger and Delmont?”

  “I’ll talk to them. I just want to compile this other list, too.”

  “And how are we supposed to do that? Aside from Janice, I have no clue as to the identities of Boo-Boo’s so-called lovers.”

  “I have some ideas.”

  “Oh, goodie.”

  Barbie glowered.

  “Sorry. It just feels like a waste of time. Not to mention, terribly humiliating for me.”

  Her eyes turned sad, and, of course, they tugged at my heartstrings.

  “Oh, all right,” I grumbled, mostly irritated with myself. Why did I always give into my friends? It was something I’d have to work on in counseling. My therapist would be delighted since she planned to remodel her kitchen and would then have the means to pay for it. “Okay, if you want to make a list, we’ll make a list.”