The Barrell, Bats and Bubble Gum

by N. L. Cameron

  I parked in front of the inn, but doubts filled my head. I never doubted looking into these cases before. I always thought I was doing the right thing, promoting truth and justice and the American way and all that. Now I wasn’t so sure.

  What if Sheriff Mills decided to accuse me of one of these crimes? Me! Then what would I do? All Levi’s warnings haunted me. I never should have stuck my nose into this. Better to stay safe at home and stick to my little old country inn.

  All off a sudden, a loud knock on my window startled me out of my skin. I whipped around to find Levi standing outside my car. He bent close and shouted through the glass, “What are you doing sitting in there?”

  My hands shook when I rolled down the window.

  He lowered his voice to a conversational tone, now that he didn’t have to shout to be heard. “What are you doing in there? I saw you pull in twenty minutes ago, but you never came inside. You’ve been out here the whole time.”

  I got out of the car. “Nothing. I was just thinking about things.”

  “Don’t tell me. You’ve been thinking about Max Nash’s death again. How many times do I have to tell you…?”

  I walked at his side toward the inn. “I was thinking about it, but I’m not anymore. I’m going to mend my ways. I’m giving up sleuthing.”

  He furrowed his brow. “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am. You’ll see. I’m going to reform. Right now, I’m going to work on my website, and later, I’m going to wash the windows.”

  He stopped dead in his tracks to frown at me. “What’s the matter with you? Are you sick or something?”

  I laughed at him. “No, I’m fine. I’m turning over a new leaf. You’ve shown me the error of my ways, and I’m going to stick to my inn from now on. Lesson learned. You’ll see.”

  He wouldn’t stop frowning like I was speaking another language. I couldn’t stand that look, so I hurried away to my apartment. I shut the door so I didn’t have to worry about Levi or anybody else coming to find me.

  I sank onto the couch and let out my breath. At least I was safe here for now.

  Chapter 13

  Somehow, things always look different in the morning. I woke up fresh as a daisy, all my doubts from yesterday vanished in the morning sunshine. I barely remembered them. I started working on the financial records for the inn going back ten years. I worked for three hours straight to log all my aunt’s records on a spreadsheet to track spending and profit. Then, at the stroke of eleven o’clock, the curious case of Max Nash’s death hit me between the eyes.

  Once I started thinking about it, I couldn’t stop. Winnie certainly wasn’t in any danger from her assailant when she came to the commission meeting. Whoever attacked her, did it in secret. They didn’t want anybody to know who hit her over the head, so they wouldn’t have done anything before she showed up at the inn.

  That left only two possibilities. Either her assailant followed her out to the inn from town, or the assailant was on the premises during the meeting. Chances were, if this mysterious attacker held a grudge against Winnie, they would have attacked her the night before, before she left town the morning of the commission meeting.

  Not only that, the assailant must have known Winnie fell asleep in the library. They must have seen her led out of the dining room drunk off her wheels. Then they must have waited until no one was around to attack her. Who would want to do that? Moreover, who could do it?

  I could rule out all the out-of-town delegates to the meeting. They wouldn’t know Winnie well enough to want to harm her, and none of them hung around after the meeting broke up at three o’clock. None of them left their cars parked in the parking lot, and who in their right mind would hide their car and sneak back to lurk in the woods until he or she spotted a convenient opportunity to bash Winnie in the head?

  None of that made sense, so Winnie’s attacker must have been a local. That narrowed the potential suspects to Sheriff Conrad Mills, Tom Potter, Roger Powers, Marty Tucker, and Arthur Drilling. I could rule out Sheriff Mills. That guy couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn, and Marty Tucker was out of his mind on who knows what.

  I didn’t see Tom or Roger hurting anybody. They were steady family men and well-known businessmen. That left Arthur Drilling, but I didn’t see him getting his hands dirty smashing in some drunken lady’s head, either.

  My thinking went wrong somewhere, but one thing remained clear. I was back on the case. The hard part would be explaining that to Levi, so I wouldn’t explain it to him. I would just go on my merry way, and when I solved the case, he would realize I was right all along. That’s all the explanation he needed.

  So, someone at the Commission meeting hit Winnie over the head in the greenhouse. Who—I didn’t know. I could leave that for later. The question was: why did they do it? If they didn’t plan it and execute it in town, they must have done it on impulse. They must have gotten nervous when she started accusing everyone in sight of Max’s murder.

  Now let’s see. She accused Sheriff Mills. She accused Arthur Drilling, and she accused Tom Potter. Tom had an alibi for the night before, and once again, I couldn’t see the other two harming her over a drunken tirade. They laughed at her. They thought she was ridiculous, which she was. Anybody could see that.

  One thing about Winnie’s behavior struck me as important, though. Her drunken tirade was the first time anyone ever mentioned in public that Max might have been murdered. Not even I wanted to say those words out loud. En Vino Veritas.

  Her sauced brain said the words nobody else wanted to say. That’s what made somebody nervous. Her assailant was in the room, and the same person must be the murderer. She came too close to the truth.

  Either she accused the killer point blank in front of everyone, or she came close to it. She would have gone around the room accusing everybody. Eventually, she would have pointed the finger at the real killer.

  Winnie blabbed, and Winnie got bashed because of it. Now the truth was out. Max was murdered, and no one on Earth but Winnie and I knew it. Sheriff Mills no longer trusted me about these things, so I had to find out the truth myself.

  I got out a sheet of paper and wrote down my list of names. I dared not cross any of them out—not yet. What if Sheriff Mills was the killer? Was that the real reason he kept thwarting me at every turn? Maybe he wasn’t the incompetent puppy dog he appeared to be. Maybe he used his position to cover up his devious crimes, just like Winnie said he did.

  I refused to believe that. Anyway, I had no reason to believe it until I found some clue that led me to believe it. In the meantime, someone on this list must have stood to gain something by Max’s death. Who could that be?

  Chapter 14

  A cheery young receptionist stood up behind her desk. She hugged a clipboard against her chest. “Miss Garrett? Mr. Law will see you now.”

  She showed me into a plush office and motioned toward a comfy leather chair in front of the huge oak desk. I sat down, and she left before the big swivel recliner behind the desk spun around to reveal a muscular man with thick curly brown hair swooping over his forehead. A thick mustache covered his upper lip.

  He stood up to shake my hand. “Frank Law. Pleasure to meet you.”

  I rose to return his handshake. “I’m Allie Garrett. I’m the owner of the Barrell Inn.”

  “Yes, I know. I read your notes.” He pulled out a yellow lined writing pad. “You’re here to inquire about Max Nash’s will.”

  “Yes, I am. I heard you read it, and I also heard from Winnie Macglass that you told her she stood to inherit from Max’s estate.”

  “I never told her any such thing,” he returned. “In fact, I never spoke to Winnie about Max’s will at all.”

  I stiffened. “You didn’t? She claims she asked you about it before you read the will, and she claims you told her she stood to inherit from it.”

  He shook his head. “I never met with her—not on any professional matter, and not since Max’s death. I don’t know what she t
old you, but that is not the situation at all.”

  “Well, who does stand to inherit Max’s property?”

  “Everything goes to his brother Felix, who lives in Philadelphia.”

  “Oh, no!” I cried. “That means the gas station will pass to an out-of-towner. That could be terrible for the town.”

  “I don’t know about that. I’ll have to contact Felix and find out his intentions. I’ve seen situations like this before. Sometimes out-of-town relatives want to sell the property, and then someone local can buy it and keep it going. Other times, the inheriting party wants to move here and make Heather’s Forge their home, just like you did.”

  My cheeks colored. “That’s true.”

  He stood up. “Does that answer your question about the will?”

  It answered my question about the will, but it did nothing to answer any of the other questions burning in my mind.

  I could see Mr. Law wanted to get rid of me, so I stood up, too. We shook hands, and I let him guide me out of his office. At the doorway, I looked around. “So, where’s your son?”

  “I don’t have a son.”

  “Then why is your firm called Frank Law and Sons? Was your father named Frank, too?”

  He opened the door and waved his hand. “No. Thanks for stopping by. Have a nice day.”

  The doorknob hit me in the backside when it closed behind me. The receptionist smiled her same bright smile, but the message couldn’t be more clear. I was dismissed. I had nothing left to do but leave.

  Not until I got out onto the sidewalk did the questions blaze alive again. So, Winnie didn’t inherit anything from Max, not so much as a plug nickle. She lied about seeing Frank Law. She lied about the lawyer telling her Max left something to her. She lied about the man who hit her. She lied about…well, everything.

  That gave her more motive than anyone to kill Max. You know what they say. Love turned to hatred is the biggest motive to kill. She was closest to Max, and he turned against her. She killed him. She must have.

  So, what could I do? I had to prove it somehow. I had to see her, to talk to her, to try to trap her in her own web of lies. If I could only prove she lied, I could take what I knew to the sheriff.

  I didn’t go back to the inn, either. I couldn’t look Levi in the eye until I found something solid to back up these theories of mine. Just wait until I told him what I found. He would be proud of me. He would finally admit maybe I had a knack for solving these cases. He might actually encourage me and listen to me from now on.

  I told myself all kinds of wild tales on the way down the mountain. I rolled down my window and hung my arm out in the breeze. The wind blew my hair out of my face. I flew on wings of glorious bliss.

  I envisioned the surprised look on Levi’s face when I dropped the bomb I just found out on him. That would teach him I could solve mysteries as well as anybody. He would realize how smart and intuitive and exceptional I was, and he never appreciated me before.

  Once I started making up that fantasy, it took on a life of its own. As long I kept driving, I convinced myself it was all real. I experienced a surge of euphoria as though it already happened, when it hadn’t happened at all. The whole thing existed only in my mind.

  Chapter 15

  The fantasy of my smashing success lasted right up until I parked my car in the Hunterville Hospital parking lot. That’s when reality hit. The fantasy crumbled to the brain fog it really was. I still had to go in there and face Winnie with what I knew, and I wasn’t looking forward to that.

  It took me a lot longer to get out of the car than last time. Every time I made one of these trips, it took me longer and longer to muster the courage to get out and go do what I set out to do.

  When I finally made it to Winnie’s floor, I eased along the hall toward her room. I didn’t really want to see her. I certainly didn’t want to talk to her, let alone confront her about Max’s death.

  I almost backed out when Winnie herself came breezing around a corner from another direction. Her eyes flew open, but she recovered instantly. “Come to gloat again, have you?”

  “I didn’t come to gloat. I came to see how you are.”

  Winnie sauntered into her room and sat down on the bed. “I’m just fine, and the sheriff is searching for the man who did this to me, so you don’t have to worry about me suing you for all you’re worth.”

  I took the chair by the window. “I’m not worried about you suing me for all I’m worth. I’m just worried about you.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me. As you can see, I’m fine. I’ve got an iron skull. No one can hurt me.”

  “It’s not your skull I’m worried about, Winnie,” I replied. “It’s what’s inside your heart that concerns me.”

  She put her iron head on one side. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you made up that crazy story about the tall, dark and probably handsome stranger to throw the sheriff off the trail of whoever hit you when you already told me you didn’t remember anything about it. Not only that, you lied to me about Frank Law.”

  Her lips curled back to bare her perfect teeth. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I replied. “You lied about the stranger hitting you. You lied about going to see Frank Law in the first place, and you lied about him saying you were going to inherit something from Max. You never went to see him. He never told you any such thing, and you don’t even remember leaving the meeting. To me, all those lies stack up to make you a liar.”

  She studied me for a long, silent moment before she dropped her eyes to her hands in her lap. “So, what is it you came here to say—that I’m a liar?”

  I took a deep breath. “Look, Winnie. Something isn’t right about Max’s death, and I’m really starting to agree with you that somebody probably killed him. I’m also pretty sure it wasn’t you, because you didn’t hit yourself on the head, did you?”

  Her head shot up, and her eyes widened.

  “If you didn’t kill Max, somebody else did,” I went on, “and I believe that somebody was at the county commission meeting and heard you accusing all and sundry of murdering your boyfriend. Somebody got scared, either because you did accuse him or you were about to. That’s why they hit you over the head. Unfortunately, you were too drunk to remember who it was, or they would probably be behind bars right now.”

  The vicious hatred evaporated off her face, and all of a sudden, I found myself looking a pathetic old woman left all alone in the world without a single friend to support her. “You really think I didn’t do it?”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  She wrung her hands, and her eyes darted around the room. “I wish I could remember. I really do, but I couldn’t tell the sheriff that. He would know I’m a hopeless drunk. That’s why Max cut me off, you know. I couldn’t stop drinking. I loved him so much, and I wanted to. I tried when he told me to stop. I really tried, but I couldn’t. Every time I tried, it only got worse. It haunted me day and night until I caved in, and then it came rushing on like a locomotive. I couldn’t stop it, and it’s only gotten worse since Max died. I don’t know where to turn. I don’t know what to do. The whole thing has spun out of control with no way to stop it.”

  “Did you know Max cut you out of his will?”

  “Yes! Why do you think I was so hell-bent on shifting the blame for his death to somebody else? If the sheriff—or someone like you, God forbid—found out Max cut me off, they would automatically assume I killed him. I mean, who would have a stronger motive than that? I would go to prison for the rest of my life.”

  I sank back in my chair. “You won’t go to prison, Winnie. I know you didn’t do it, but it sure would help if you could give me some clue who did.”

  “What do you want to know? I’ll tell you anything I can to figure out who killed him.”

  “I don’t suppose you know anybody in town he was particular enemies with, do you?”

  Winnie waved her hand. “Only half the to
wn. He really knew how to grate on people’s nerves, you know?”

  I sighed. “Yeah, I know, but that doesn’t get us any closer. Did he do anybody wrong in business? Think about the people at the commission meeting. Was any of them particularly at odds with Max, maybe over something business related?”

  She frowned. “I don’t think so.”

  “What about Marty Tucker? Did Max have any conflict going with him.”

  “What do you mean? Why would Max have a conflict with Marty Tucker?”

  “Marty wants to take over the station. He wants to turn it into parking for the diner. Was any of that going on while Max was still alive, or did Marty just take that into his head after Fisk found Max dead?”

  She hung her head. “I really have no idea. I’m sorry I can’t be more help, but Max never discussed his business with me. After the fourth or fifth time I failed to give up drinking, he not only cut me out of his will, he cut me off from everything. He wouldn’t discuss business with me. He forced me to become financially independent from him. He wouldn’t hardly give me the time of day. He just stopped loving me. It was awful, and he was the most important person in my life.”

  “He didn’t break up with you, though, did he? He kept seeing you. He must have still loved you. He just couldn’t stand your drinking.”

  Winnie’s lip quivered. She stared down at her fingers knotted in her lap. “I guess so.”

  I squeezed her hand. “Max loved you. From what you say, it sounds like he loved you a lot. He loved you right up until the day he died.”

  A tear fell down her cheek and landed in a dark circle on her knee. I didn’t stick around to rub her nose in the dirt. I slipped out of the room and headed for the parking lot. I couldn’t exactly call Winnie helpful when it came to pursuing this investigation, but at least I could leave Hunterville Hospital liking her a lot better.

  That poor woman! She must have panicked when Max died, thinking everyone would accuse her of killing him. I couldn’t blame her, either. She must have been going out of her mind with worry. She must have dreaded the day Frank Law read the will and everybody found out Max cut her off.