Gluten for Punishment

by Nancy J. Parra

  “Have you been investigating on your own again?”

  I rolled my eyes. He sounded like Tim. “No. I’ve been too busy cleaning up my bakery, catching up on orders, and getting my van towed, buying new tires—”

  “Okay, okay, calm down.”

  Nothing triggered my ire faster than a man telling me to calm down as if I were being a crazy woman. “Brad, someone is stalking me and ruining my business, my van, and now my house. Being calm doesn’t seem possible at this moment.” My hands waved around like a crazy woman’s, but it wasn’t my fault. He should have never used that tone with me.

  “I’m coming down there.”

  “Look, do what you want. But I’m not paying for you to come here. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal.” Oh boy, he sounded mad now. Good. Fine. That’s what he got for treating me like an idiot.

  “Good,” I said. “Do you need to know anything else?”

  “Yes.”

  “What?”

  “Are you seeing Sam Greenbaum? Because I heard he was at your house last night. . . .”

  I hung up. Lawyer or not, he needed to get a grip. I shoved my phone in my pocket. It rang a few times but I ignored it.

  Grandma Ruth stood in the doorway, leaned on the door frame, and shouted orders to the techs while waving her cane. I went over and put my arm around her shoulder. At one time Grandma used to be five-foot-eight. Now, she was hunched a bit and only came up to my armpit.

  “We all shrink,” she’d said with a shrug. “You will, too. Enjoy your height while you have it.”

  “Hey, Grandma,” I said calmly. “How are you doing? Do you need to sit?”

  “I’m fine,” she belted out in her best back-of-the-opera-house projection. “Those people, on the other hand, are idiots.”

  “I have a doctorate in forensic science,” Charlie McGee shouted back from his inspection of the foyer floor.

  “Yes, well, I’ve lived twice as long as you, and I’m a lifetime Mensa member. I happen to know a thing or two about science.”

  “Grandma.” I pulled her away from the door. “Let the man work so I can get my house back.”

  Grandma huffed and worked her way back to the swing. “Ask them to give you a coat. You’re freezing.”

  I stuck my head into the door and Charlie stood there with my puffy coat in his hand. I guess he could still hear Grandma. I took the coat and pulled it on then went to sit on the porch. Grandma and I stared out at the road. The police lights flickered red and blue across the front of the house. The neighbors all had their lights on but were afraid to come out. Instead, they watched us from behind their curtains.

  “Mrs. Dorsky is going to have a field day tomorrow.” Grandma Ruth lit a cigarette and pointed at the house across the street. The living room curtain fell.

  I patted Grandma’s denim-covered knee. “Look at it this way. If you Play your cards right, you can have an exclusive for tomorrow’s paper. If Rocky shows up, your story can be front page.”

  “No, things this small go into the blotter, kiddo, not the front page,” Grandma grumbled and blew a perfect smoke wreath around her head. “After murder, vandalism is too small to sell papers.” She leveled her stare at the Dorskys’ windows. When the curtains twitched again and the light went out, Grandma chuckled then coughed. I patted her on the back.

  My phone rang. It was my brother. “Hey, Tim,” I said low into the phone. “Are you on break?”

  “What’s so urgent you called me at work?”

  “Someone broke into the house and trashed the kitchen.”

  “Holy shit, are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Grandma Ruth was with me when we found it. We’re outside now while the cops and CSU go through the house. Listen, did you happen to see anyone drive by more than once?”

  “No.”

  “Anyone who looked suspicious or knew you would be working a double shift?”

  “No one suspicious,” Tim said. “My boss and Harold knew about the double shift.” Harold had been Tim’s best friend since kindergarten. He wasn’t very bright, but he was loyal and Tim kept him around.

  “I called Brad. He said we should probably stay somewhere else for a while.”

  “That’s a good idea, Toni,” Tim said. “I don’t think they’ll bother the place during the day while I’m there, but I don’t like the idea of you home alone at night.”

  “I know. That’s what everyone says, but it’s Mom’s house. It’s the place where we grew up. I can’t see why it wouldn’t be safe.”

  “The mess in the kitchen should have shown you enough,” Grandma Ruth said, loud enough for Tim to hear her.

  “Is there anything missing?”

  “Not that I could tell, right off, but we didn’t stay inside long enough.”

  “Fine.” I could hear Tim rub his hand through his hair. “Are you going to go home with Grandma?”

  “I’m going to call Tasha,” I said, then paused when a car pulled along the curb. “Or not. She just showed up. Listen I have to go. I wanted you to know since you have stuff here and all.”

  “Take care of you, sis.”

  “I will.” I hung up and stood. Tasha parked across the street and ran to the house.

  “Holy crap.” Tasha grabbed me and hugged me hard. “Are you all right?” She checked me all over.

  “I’m fine. Grandma Ruth, tell her I’m fine.”

  “She’s fine,” Grandma said without looking. “Bill’s here. I guess that means I’m going home.” Grandma stood and the porch swing hit the back of my knees as it swung with her movement. Bill came tearing up the walk. I swear I’ve never seen a man that old and big move so fast.

  “Ruth, are you all right?” He took her by the arm.

  “I’m fine. My scooter is in the driveway.” She let him help her down the stairs. She turned back to me. “Tell the chief I can come down to the station in the morning and give a statement.”

  “I will.” I blew Grandma a kiss and watched Bill walk her to the car. She looked a little more hunched than usual, a little more tired. “Darn it. This thing is worrying her far too much.”

  Tasha hadn’t let go. She squeezed me around the waist and watched as Bill helped Grandma into the passenger side of his Lincoln and then opened the trunk and stuffed the scooter inside. There was no way he’d get the trunk closed, but Bill knew that. He put up Grandma’s orange triangle flag to alert other motorists of the hazard.

  “It’s worrying me, too,” Tasha said. “And Kip.”

  “Kip knows?”

  “Honey.” She stroked my hair. “The whole town is talking about you. Kip is no dummy.”

  “I called Brad.”

  “Good.” She hugged me.

  “He told me to stay somewhere else for a while.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m here. You’re going to spend the night with me. I was going to hog-tie you and stuff you in my car if you didn’t come on your own.”

  I laughed. “Right. You and whose army?”

  “I’m sure she could have a lot of help.” Sam’s voice came up from the side porch. “What the hell happened?”

  “Someone broke into her house and trashed the place,” Tasha informed him.

  I looked at her with a huge questioning expression. “Wait! How did you know?”

  She patted me. “It’s a small town, honey. Word gets around fast. You’re shaking. We should get out of here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until the CSU guys are done and the chief lets me know what he thinks.” I glanced from Sam to Tasha. “It could be a long night. Who’s with Kip?”

  “My mother came to stay.”

  “Oh no, your mom? I didn’t—”

  “It’s no bother at all.” Tasha was firm. “She’s the one who called and told me.” I made a questioning face and Tasha said, “Mrs. Dorsky called her.”

  I looked over but there was no movement inside Mrs. Dorsky’s house, not even a flutter of the front curtain.


  “Listen, I can stay with Toni until the cops are done,” Sam volunteered. He looked real cute in his jeans, jacket, and Stetson.

  “As her lawyer, it’s best if I stay with her.” Brad came up the porch steps. He was four inches taller than Sam and wore his GQ coat, dress slacks, and wingtip shoes. Tasha looked from one man to the other, her jaw slack, her mouth open.

  “I’m fine, gentlemen.” I squeezed Tasha’s arm. “Tasha will stay with me. Her mom has things covered with Kip and the inn. Right, Tasha?” I gave her a look that said she’d better agree. She batted her eyes at me. I pinched her.

  “Ow! I mean, right.”

  “See? So thanks but no thanks.” I held on to Tasha as a lifeline and pretended to smile at the two men.

  “You are a stronger woman than me,” Tasha said in a stage whisper. I elbowed her in the side and kept on baring my teeth.

  The front door opened and Chief Blaylock walked out. He put his hat on his head and studied us. “Whoever did this is long gone.”

  His words weren’t as comforting as he thought.

  “What’s the damage?” Brad asked.

  “They tore up the kitchen right smart.” He turned to me. “And they got into your bedroom. It looks like they took a butcher knife or maybe an axe to your bed.”

  Wow. My knees wanted to buckle a bit, but I mentally ordered them to straighten up and not show fear. If they buckled and I went down, the entire town would know about it in less than ten minutes flat. Which meant whoever had done this would know and possibly get his jollies.

  “Toni?” Sam took my hand.

  “I’m fine.” The words came out a harsh whisper.

  “She’s fine.” Brad gave Sam a look until he let go of my hand.

  “Anything else?” I croaked out.

  “It appears whoever did this knew what was important to you in the house. Only the kitchen and your bedroom were harmed.”

  “How’d he get in?” Sam asked, his hands in fists at his sides.

  “Broke in through a basement window on the side of the house between the carriage house and the road. This guy knew the house’s blind spots.” Chief Blaylock gave me a serious look. “Have you been doing more investigating?”

  “She hasn’t done anything since the note was pushed under her door at the bakery,” Tasha said.

  “Did anything come of the note?” I asked, trying to find some kind of pony in this pile of manure.

  “The CSU guys found yours and your assistant’s prints on the envelope. The note itself had your prints and an unknown partial. The partial doesn’t match anything at the Meister crime scene.”

  “Does that mean it wasn’t sent by the killer?” Tasha asked. She rubbed the back of my coat and I realized I was clinging to her arm.

  “As best we can tell, it wasn’t. They’re pulling fingerprints from both the kitchen and the bedroom. We’ll do a comparison and see what turns up.”

  “There was a lot of flour on the floor of the kitchen,” I said. “Were there any shoeprints?”

  “Looks like a size ten, man’s shoe. We’ve taken photos. They can trace the tread to figure out what kind of shoe. It’s a start.”

  “Any sign of the knife that shredded my bed?” I asked. I had a small hope that it had been recovered. I didn’t want to think about waking up and finding someone holding it, standing over my bed.

  “I’m sorry, no.”

  “She’s staying with me,” Tasha told him. “Are there any precautions we should take?”

  “I can have a patrol car go by every hour.”

  “Do it,” Brad ordered.

  “What about my brother Tim?” I asked. “He’s staying here. He’ll be home around 4 A.M. Will it be safe for him to stay?”

  The chief chewed on a toothpick for a long moment. “I think Tim will be fine. It looks like you were the target. Plus, I doubt whoever did this would strike twice—not with as much police presence as we have out here right now. But I tell you what, you get even the slightest bit scared, you call 911. Someone can be there within five minutes.”

  “I have you on speed dial.” The truth of that was less comforting than it should be. “Listen, I have to be at work by 4 A.M.,” I said. “I have orders to process and a bakery display case to fill.”

  “Maybe you should consider closing for a day or two.” The chief moved the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

  “That’s a good idea,” Tasha, Brad, and Sam all said at the same time.

  I narrowed my eyes. “This is my life and I can’t let someone threaten me out of it. Seriously, Tasha, could you shut down the Inn for a couple of days? No? What about you, Brad? Could you simply close shop? Sam? Could you not take calls?”

  “We understand you’re trying to run a business here, Ms. Holmes,” Chief Blaylock answered for my friends. “But there won’t be a business if you end up in the hospital or worse.” His brown-eyed gaze was sincere and sent a shiver of fear down my back at the idea of something worse than hurt.

  “I could carry a weapon.” I knew I was reaching, but I refused to be bullied into giving up.

  “Concealed carry isn’t law yet,” Brad said. “Besides, you don’t own a gun. Do you?”

  “My daddy’s pump rifle’s in the house somewhere. Or at least it was . . .”

  “The CSU guys will be done soon. I suggest you wait until morning to check for missing articles.” Chief Blaylock’s mouth was grim. “If you can’t take a day off of work, then you need to think about having someone with you at the shop.”

  “I have an assistant. She’ll be there from ten until four.”

  “Not long enough.” The chief shook his head.

  “I refuse to have to have a bodyguard everywhere I go. My friends and family have lives of their own.”

  “Maybe then, for their sake, you should think about closing shop until this blows over or we catch the guy doing this.” Stubborn should have been the chief’s first name.

  “You’re pretty sure this is a man?” Sam asked.

  “Guessing at this time,” the chief said. “Why don’t you go inside and pack an overnight case then go off with your friends. I’ll have a patrolman sit outside your house tonight ’til your brother comes home.”

  Oh, I was feeling ornery now. The chief thought he was stubborn? He should have never pushed me. “If you’ll be here, why can’t I stay?”

  “You haven’t seen the mess. Once you look at your bed, you’ll want to stay at the inn for a few days.” The chief’s features were grave. I swallowed hard and took him at his word. Looks like I had to pack my bag.

  “Come on.” Tasha put her arm through mine. “We’ll go in together.”

  I skipped the kitchen and went straight up to my room. Brad stayed behind to talk to Chief Blaylock. Sam followed behind us, his expression pensive. The stairs looked normal. Squeaky wood, which was worn in the right places from over a hundred years of footsteps. The hall was quiet except for a uniformed officer standing outside my door. I swallowed. He looked daunting in the cheerily papered hallway with his gun on his hip.

  I took a deep breath to prepare myself and turned into my bedroom. Two gentlemen wearing dark CSU jackets snapped pictures. The room was trashed. My dresser drawers were opened, clothes tossed about. My underwear was ripped and lying in colorful pieces of silk and satin on the floor. The bed itself was a horror. The blankets were torn and cut with long slashes and hung in rags to the floor. The pillows were ripped apart; stuffing and feathers were everywhere. The sheets and mattress showed such violence that my vision began to blur. If anyone had been sleeping in my bed when the attacker came, they would have been ripped from limb to limb.

  “What kind of wacko does this?” Sam muttered.

  “How? I mean, that’s a lot of work.” Tasha wrung her hands. The entrance to my room was thin and tall as old doors are and she had taken her arm from mine to let me enter.

  “It’s a lot of anger,” Charlie McGee added. “Whoever did this was filled with
uncontrollable rage.” He waved a pencil at the bed. “Something like this is very personal.”

  I took a couple of numb steps toward my open closet and something crunched under my feet. It was broken bits of porcelain from the handcrafted dressing table set Grandma Ruth had given me when I had turned sixteen. Tears welled up in my eyes. The closet door hung on its hinges. The clothing inside of it had been hacked and tossed about.

  “Hey.” Tasha took hold of my arm. “Why don’t we let these guys do their job? I’ve got some clean pajamas I can share for tonight.”

  I couldn’t see through the tears. But she and Sam got me out of there. My insides were cold.

  “You know,” Tasha said as she rubbed my arm and walked me down the stairs, “let’s go to the inn. You look like you could use a good drink. I have just the thing in my bar.”

  “I’ll follow you and make sure you get in safe.” Sam jingled his keys as we stepped out into the dark, cold October night.

  “Where’s your bag?” Brad asked.

  Sam shook his head.

  “I’m taking her home now.” Tasha’s voice brooked no interference.

  “But shouldn’t I stay and answer any questions Chief Blaylock might have?”

  “The chief’s questions can wait until morning.” Tasha sent the men a look.

  “I’ll take care of things here,” Brad said. “You go. Get some rest.”

  “Are you sure?” I glanced from Brad to the chief.

  “They’re sure.” Tasha dragged me toward the driveway. Somewhere the wind blew through dry leaves and rattled the trees. I thought I smelled snow. Another shiver wracked through me. A car pulled up and Rocky stepped out, camera in hand.

  “So much for not making the news,” I muttered. Rocky snapped a picture as Tasha and Sam stuffed me into Tasha’s car.

  “Tomorrow is Friday,” Tasha said as she started up the car. “You can borrow my clothes. Saturday, we’re going shopping. You needed a new wardrobe anyway.”

  I stared out the window and watched as Sam stepped up to Rocky and said something that had the photographer taking a step back. Then Tasha turned the corner and we were away from the scene. I saw the old houses pass by as we drove. When I was young, I had thought Oiltop was a boring town where nothing happened. A lot had changed since I was a kid.