Gluten for Punishment

by Nancy J. Parra

“Sure thing.” There was a slight pause. “A unit is on the way. Are you alone?”

  “No, no, Grandma Ruth and Sam Greenbaum are here with me.”

  “Good, stay put and an officer will be there in a few minutes.”

  “Thanks.” I hung up. “So much for catching that drink.”

  Sam’s eyes glittered in the streetlight and his jaw was set. “I’m glad you were with Toni, Mrs. Nathers. She should not be in this back parking lot alone. Not with these kinds of things happening.” He pushed his hat back and looked me straight in the eye. “I’m glad I was here. What if you’d come out while someone was doing this?”

  My stomach clenched. I hadn’t thought about it that way. Still, I couldn’t give in to the threats or let my life be run by them. Right? Straightening my shoulders, I said, “Now wait. I’m a grown woman with a business. I need to be able to come and go without having to bother other people to come out and watch me.”

  He rose and stood not a quarter inch from me. I was suddenly aware of the heat that rolled off his chest. The scent of his cologne mixed with man and horse. “I doubt anyone thinks of your safety as a bother.” He put his hand under my chin and raised my head up gently until I looked him square in the eye. “This is serious. What if something had happened to you?”

  “Then I would kick that person’s ass,” Grandma said with such ferocity that we all broke out in laughter.

  “You know, Mrs. Nathers, I believe you would.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  Sam raised his index finger as if to say hold on a moment. “Hey, hi, sorry to call this late but I’ve got a van with two slashed tires. Can you? Great. We’re in the parking lot in the back of south Main Street off of Central.” He hung up his phone and I could hear sirens in the distance. “I called in a favor from a friend of mine. He runs a tire shop.”

  “I don’t think you can repair those slashes.”

  “I agree.” Sam rubbed my upper arms. “But Grant has a tow truck. He’ll come by and pick up your van. It’ll be ready first thing in the morning.”

  “Oh, thanks.” I hadn’t thought about what to do after the police report. The squad car pulled up into the parking area and turned off its lights. At least this time it wasn’t Officer Emry. Hopefully this was a sign my luck had taken a turn for the better.

  The new officer was the same size as Sam, he had blond hair and blue eyes and wore a jacket over his uniform. “Did you call in a report of tires slashed?”

  “I did. I’m Toni Holmes.”

  “Office Bright.” He shook my hand and then pulled out a notebook. “And who is with you?”

  “I’m Sam Greenbaum,” Sam said. “And this is Toni’s grandmother, Ruth Nathers.”

  “Thank you.” Officer Bright made a note in his notebook. “What happened?”

  “After I locked up the bakery, Sam saw my tires were slashed.” I showed him the two flat tires on the driver’s side of the van.

  “Did you see anyone or hear anything?”

  “No.” I hugged myself.

  “It must have happened before I got here. I walked around the back on foot,” Sam offered. “I didn’t see anything.”

  The officer’s eyebrows pushed together. “Why did you walk around back? Are you parked back here?”

  “No, I’m parked out front. When I saw the bakery door was locked, I walked around back to see if I could catch Toni. It was then we noticed the tires.”

  “I see.”

  “Have there been other reports of tires slashed?” I was hopeful this was a different sort of prank. I didn’t want to think about the escalating violence of the threats against me.

  “Not yet,” Officer Bright said. “I see you have a security camera.” He pointed with his pencil at the camera mounted near my back door.

  “Yes, but I don’t think it covers the entire parking lot.”

  He pursed his lips. “Do you mind if we take a look at the tape?”

  “Sure.” I pulled out my keys, opened the bakery, and turned off the security alarm. Everyone but Grandma piled into my office.

  “Since I can’t fit, I’ll have myself a little snack.” Grandma took her scooter off to the refrigerator, where I kept the Bavarian cream donuts.

  I rolled my eyes. “Grandma, you’ve already had two. Watch your sugar.”

  “Don’t be a nag,” she called back. “I’m fine.”

  I wasn’t about to fight her in front of Sam and Officer Bright so I let her be. A quick rewind of the security tape showed only a shadow passing by and the sound of air hissing.

  “I’m going to need to take the tape,” Officer Bright said.

  I made a copy on a scan disc and gave it to him. “Is there anything else you need?”

  The policeman thought a moment. “No, I’ll start a report and let you know the number. If this is the beginning of a Halloween spree then we need to tie as many of these pranks together as we can. And if it’s tied to something else . . . either way you’ll have an incident number.”

  Silence descended as we all contemplated the other thing this might be tied to.

  “I’ve got a tow truck coming to take her van to Knight’s Tires,” Sam said.

  “All right, I’ll be in touch.” The officer gave me yet another police report number and went on his way. The tow truck driver showed up, and I was sad to see my van hauled off.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Sam said as we watched the tow truck turn onto Central.

  I rubbed my arms. “I’m wishing I had had the security camera sweep across the parking lot and not simply cover the doorway.”

  “There was no way you could have known,” Grandma said and patted my arm.

  “You’ve had a heck of a couple of weeks,” Sam said. “Come on. I’ll take you both home.”

  “Thanks.”

  We walked in companionable silence around the buildings to where his vehicle was parked in front of the shop.

  “The pickup is mine.” He pointed to a dark blue heavy-duty pickup with a king cab and a handyman logo on the side. He unlocked the door with a click of his key and opened it for me. I touched the logo.

  “Nice. Memorable, actually. Is this what caught Mrs. Becher’s eye?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s magnetic?” Grandma asked. “Smart.”

  “Thanks, I’ll tell Paul—Paul Pinkerton. He designed it for me. He teaches graphic arts and such at the college.”

  Sam helped Grandma into the cab and then muscled her scooter into the back of his truck. I climbed up into the cab and Sam shut the door and walked around the front of the vehicle. The interior was dark leather and smelled of polish and saddle soap. I buckled up and noted the care he took with his vehicle and thought about the care he’d shown with Grandma.

  “My friend Tasha is seeing an adjunct professor from the college,” I mentioned as Sam climbed in, buckled up, and started the pickup.

  “I know a lot of the profs out there,” Sam said. “My younger brother teaches physics.”

  “We have something in common,” Grandma said and elbowed me. “My family started the college.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sam said. “I know.”

  “Maybe you know Tasha’s friend then, Craig Kennedy? His brother, Ralph, owns the pharmacy across the street.”

  “I know Ralph. I’ve seen him out on the golf course.”

  “You Play golf? At the country club?” Grandma scowled. The American Legion had the only other golf course in Oiltop and it had been shut down the last couple of years.

  “I’ve been known to swing a club or two. Why? Does that surprise you?”

  “The country club set is not exactly Grandma’s favorite.” I tried to head Grandma off at the pass.

  “Bunch of hoity-toities,” Grandma Ruth groused.

  “Live and let live, Grandma, remember?”

  Grandma Ruth huffed. “I’d say something about how mean girls never grow up, but I believe the clich
é is, If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” Grandma crossed her arms over her chest and struck a sullen pose.

  Sam waited thirty seconds before he broke the silence. “There’s one thing then you should probably know about my family, just in case it makes a difference.” He glanced at me as he turned down my street.

  “Trust me, when it comes to families mine has little room to talk. Isn’t that right, Grandma?”

  She snorted her reply and continued to look out the window.

  “Really,” I continued. “There isn’t a whole lot you could say that would ruin my day.”

  “That’s good,” he said. “Because my grandmother is on the board at the country club.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Well, now I didn’t know what to say. He’d told me he was a cowboy and a handyman. How was I to know his family belonged to the country club? Nothing like putting your foot in your mouth.

  Sam took Grandma Ruth home first. He graciously helped her out of the truck and then unloaded her scooter while she sat on a bench in front of her building and smoked.

  “Tell him we won’t hold his family against him,” Grandma said in a stage whisper when I kissed her cheek good-bye.

  “Bye, Grandma.” I got back into the truck.

  “Bye, kiddo.” Grandma waved at me. “Thank you again, young man.”

  “My pleasure, Mrs. Nathers,” Sam drawled.

  We rode two blocks in silence before he turned onto my street.

  “My house is the big Victorian on the corner.”

  “I know.” Sam pulled into my driveway and parked.

  “How do you know where I live?”

  He turned toward me, draping his arm over the steering wheel. His eyes crinkled in a nice way. “I have my ways.”

  “Let me guess, you looked me up in the phone book and were doing drive-bys.” I was kidding, of course. It’s what we used to do in junior high or high school when we had a crush on a guy. Tasha and I would look up his address and check out his house . . . several times a day. Not that we were stalkers or anything.

  “You caught me.” He raised both hands palm up in surrender and sent me a crooked grin.

  “You’re not serious.” I tilted my head and gave him the once-over.

  “Aren’t you going to say something about my grandmother and the country club?”

  I winced. “About that . . . sorry Grandma and I were snarky.” I waved at my house. “My family clearly is not in your league.”

  “It doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you.” His expression was serious.

  “I’m not the one who has a grandma to worry about.” I shrugged one shoulder. “Grandma Ruth’s certainly not out to impress anyone.”

  He reached over and tucked a stray hair behind my ear. His touch made my skin tingle. “I’m a grown man, Toni. I don’t give a rat’s ass what my grandma thinks.”

  “But you were pretty concerned about getting her just the right platters for her poker party,” I pointed out.

  “I am happy to help when she needs a favor, but I don’t make choices on my personal life to please her. I’m not a trust fund baby. I’ve got my own stuff going on; I’m not waiting for the old gal to die so I can earn my inheritance.”

  “Whew.” I playacted wiping my brow. “Good to know.”

  The inside of the cab was a little too close and a little too warm. I scooted to the far edge of the bench seat. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for all your help tonight.”

  “I’ll walk you to your door.”

  “You don’t have to—” He was out the door and opening mine before I could unbuckle the seat belt.

  “Here.” He took my hand and I tried to step gracefully out of the high pickup. Luckily I didn’t trip or do anything foolish. I did, however, pull my hand back when both feet were safely on the ground.

  “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure.” He walked with me up to the sweeping front porch.

  I unlocked the front door and things got a little awkward. “I’d offer you a drink but I really need to get to bed. My workday starts at 4 A.M.” I winced at how bad it sounded.

  He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Are you saying this has nothing to do with my hoity-toity grandma?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Did you say hoity-toity?”

  His eyes grew wide. “I did.” We both laughed.

  “No.” I tilted my head a bit. “As I’ve said, I’m really not in a good place to date anyone.”

  “Not even Brad Ridgeway?”

  “What?”

  He had the decency to hang his head. “I heard he’s been spending a lot of time with you. I needed to know I wasn’t . . . you know.”

  “What?”

  “Horning in on someone.”

  That made me laugh. “He’s my lawyer.” I held the door in my hands. “I’ll tell you what I told him. I’ve got to put all my efforts into my business right now. Especially while there’s a killer out there trying to take it away from me.”

  “Are you sure the threats are from the killer?”

  I opened my mouth to say I was pretty sure but paused. “No, I’m not sure.” I pushed my eyebrows together and wrinkled my nose. “Do you think they are separate incidents?”

  He shrugged. “Could be.”

  “Huh. That puts a whole new light on things.”

  “Listen, do you want me to check the house before I go? I mean, you’ve been threatened and your tires slashed. It might be a good thing to have someone in the house with you before you are alone for the night.”

  I was going to tell him no thanks. Then I thought, isn’t that what the stupid girl in all the horror flicks says right before she closes the door and the killer gets her?

  “Okay.” I gave in and waved him into the house. I think I surprised us both.

  “Nice foyer,” he commented as I closed the door behind us and flipped on the hall switch. The foyer was smaller than the one at Tasha’s inn but no less impressive. It held a space for a Victorian bench and coatrack. There was an antique table in the center, with a dusty centerpiece where people threw their keys and stuff when they walked inside.

  There was a curving staircase to the right. The door to the elevator was beyond the stairs and a door to the parlor. The foyer was light and bright. My mother had painted it a pale blue with cream trim and there was a dark blue Oriental rug in the middle of the wood floor. The formal parlor was blue and white and held furniture fancy enough that no one ever used it.

  I took off my coat and hung it on the coat tree and put my purse on the table. “Let me give you the nickel tour.”

  “Sure.”

  “This is the parlor.” I waved my arm like Vanna White as I passed into the den. “This is the den.”

  “No closets to hide in?” he asked as I rushed through the rooms.

  “Those are in the hall.” I walked him back into the hall, which linked the foyer to the back of the house. “Closet one and closet two.” I opened both doors. One held coats neatly hung. The other was full of boxes and an old but still working vacuum cleaner.

  “What’s this?” He pointed at the third door.

  “That’s the elevator.”

  “Huh, and you thought we were uppity.”

  We both laughed. “This is the dining room.” I switched on the light and he took careful note of its empty state. “And here is a powder room, and finally the kitchen.”

  “Very nice,” he muttered as he checked the pantry door and under the table for lurking strangers. “What’s on the other floors?”

  “Bedrooms and bathrooms.” I shrugged. “Plus there’s an office. Can I get you something to drink? I have to warn you my beverages are limited.”

  “Coffee would be nice. Warm me up for the drive home.”

  “Coffee I have.”

  “It’s a pretty big house for one person.” He leaned against the counter while I made coffee.

  “My mom left it to me.” I whipped up a couple of lattes. “And
my family stays here whenever they want, so I’m rarely alone.”

  “How big’s your family?”

  “Huge.” I handed him a coffee. “My brother Tim is staying here right now.”

  “Thanks.” He sipped his drink and I waved him to the table in the kitchen nook. “I’m glad you’re not alone.”

  “Tasha thinks I should turn the place into a B&B.”

  “You are in the historic part of town.” He grinned at me.

  “You mean the wrong side of the tracks,” I teased him.

  “Used to be all these old Victorians were the height of fashion. Now everyone wants a new McMansion built out in someone’s pasture.” He shook his head.

  “The newer homes are probably a lot less drafty,” I pointed out.

  “But the detail and character aren’t the same.” He sat back, and his thumb stroked the coffee cup. I pretended not to notice how big and sturdy his hands were. “If you ever decide to remodel, give me a call. I love to work on these old places. I’ve got friends in the area with access to authentic fixtures and such.”

  “Sounds expensive.”

  He shrugged. “I could cut you a deal.”

  I liked the sound of that. The thought of having him around the house every day, wearing work clothes, a tool belt, working with his hands . . . had its own appeal. Then I remembered Meghan’s questions and my suspicions grew.

  “Thanks again for sending Meghan my way. She’s working out great.”

  “You’re most welcome.” His eyes went all warm. “It’s good to know you’re not working all alone.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Did you send her to me to spy on me?”

  He leaned back in his seat. “No, why would you think that?”

  “Maybe because she was asking very pointed questions today about the murder and what I may or may not have seen?”

  “Oh, that . . .” He scrunched his face and colored slightly.

  “What?”

  “In my defense, I was worried about you.”

  “And you thought I’d tell Meghan something I wouldn’t tell anyone else?”

  He put his cup down and raised his hands. “No. Nothing like that. She likes you. I like you. We wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’m sorry if I upset you in any way. Forgive me?” He was so sincere. I felt my heart crack.