by Ami Diane
She wiped the excess water from her eyes. While she nursed her sore throat and gingerly took another bite, Wink rehashed what had happened to Stan.
Flo’s dome of hair tipped forward along with her as she leaned in. “Stan was never no genius, but why on earth would he be out in the middle of the lake during that ungodly storm?”
“Night fishing?” Ella’s face ping-ponged between their two blank ones. “No? That’s not a thing? I can tell by your expressions that’s not a thing.”
She took a sip of coffee before taking another crack at them. “Did Stan have any heart problems that you know of? Any known brain aneurysm, perhaps, just waiting to pop like a balloon?” Her face contorted. “Sorry, bad analogy. Really in poor taste.”
Flo’s thick glasses turned towards Wink. “Pearl? You knew him better.”
Wink snorted. “I think you’re overstating the nature of our ‘relationship’. Until this project, I’d never really talked to the guy. But no, I don’t think he had a heart problem. Don’t know nothing ‘bout his brain, though.”
“Hm,” Ella said. “So, it could’ve been just an accident.”
“I agree, it’s disappointing,” Flo said.
“What? I didn’t say that?”
“Really? I’m sure you did. Huh. Must’ve thought it then, and I picked up on it—” she tapped her head with an arthritic finger “—telepathically.”
Ella coughed into her coffee. “Oh, sure, sure. Yep. That’s exactly what happened.”
The door jingled. As Ella turned to greet the customer, she caught the apprehension in Wink’s face.
Sheriff Chapman scanned the empty diner with his cool, blue eyes before approaching. He dipped his chin in greeting. The scent of horses and dirt followed mixed with the ever-present aura of burgers.
“Afternoon, ladies. Flo.”
Ella snorted. An orthopedic shoe hit her shin under the table.
After pleasantries were exchanged all around, Ella broached the question that had been burning in her mind since the day before.
“Sheriff, was Pauline able to find out anything more about how Stan died?”
“Drowned.” The word rolled around his mouth with his drawl, making it sound pedestrian, almost pleasant.
“So he really drowned in a boat,” she said more to herself. How did one even manage that? If she weren’t so confused, she’d almost be impressed. “No heart attack?”
His head swiveled to be sure they were alone before lowering his voice for some unknown reason. “She said he had the heart of a man half his age. Guess there’s something to being full of piss and vinegar after all.”
Ella caught her bottom lip between her teeth and exchanged glances with the dynamic duo—well, mostly Wink since Flo was currently three bites into Ella’s food.
Was it possible Stan had killed himself? She supposed it wasn’t out of the question, but she could think of at least a dozen other ways to do oneself in that were far more pleasant, most involving drugs or a rope, one involving thirty pounds of bacon.
She looked up at him, noticed the pinch in his expression, caught his lingering gaze on Wink. “Oh, crap. You think it wasn’t an accident. That someone killed him.”
“Hm, maybe that head of yours has something in it, after all.”
“Thanks?”
His hands worked the brim of his derby hat, his gaze still fixated on Wink. “There were traces of what Pauline called, ‘defensive wounds’.”
Ella pushed her plate towards Flo, her appetite suddenly gone. A sinking in her gut told her she was about to watch another friend be put into the sheriff’s crosshairs.
“But there was only one person in the boat,” Ella said, her voice small and far away.
“You only saw one person in the boat. Obviously, there were two at one point.” Something in his tone sounded accusatory toward Ella like he blamed her that Stan was dead in the first place.
He replaced his hat on his silver hair and rolled a finger over his mustache. “I’d appreciate it if none of you goes telling anyone just yet. If word gets out, I’ll know it was one of you.” He leveled a glare at each woman in the booth.
Ella wondered why he bothered telling them in the first place. Maybe because she’d discovered the body, he felt obliged to give her something for her troubles. Or maybe he was being his usual nineteenth-century self and ignoring protocol. Or maybe he was testing her.
“Pearl,” he said, his voice taking on an official quality, “I need to have a word with you.”
Flo leaned in.
“In private,” Chapman added. Something in the way he said it made it clear that Wink had no choice but to comply.
“Sure, we’ll just step out back.” Wink wiped her hands over her apron as she stood. Her mouth had become a thin line. “Ella, would you mind keeping an eye on Chester, please?”
Ella’s head whipped up from staring at the floor. “What? Chester?”
“He’s in the kitchen.”
“Oh, sure. Of course.” As the two stepped into the kitchen, Ella followed hot on Chapman’s cowboy boots and shot a look over her shoulder, mouthing for Flo to stay there.
Wink and Chapman slipped out the back door, leaving Ella and Horatio alone.
Atop the industrial 1950s refrigerator, Chester stood on his hind legs watching his blue-haired human leave. He chittered and flicked his long gray tail. The front of his Chapman-like uniform sagging.
Ella transferred the sourdough bread Wink had just baked to a cooling rack. She pulled the scent in, and her appetite came back with a vengeance.
By the stove, Horatio cleaned and hummed a tune while she searched for the container of peanuts Wink kept handy. She held up a handful. Chester’s nose twitched in the air, and he crept forward. After he sniffed her skin, he snatched a nut from her palm then tore into it in a way that reminded her of how she attacked pizza after a long run.
She hoped he wouldn’t leave his scent on her because Fluffy had ignored her for the better part of two days the previous week when she came home smelling of squirrel. The two had a bitter rivalry that tended to leave a mess of broken things in their wake.
After washing her hands, Ella sliced a couple of pieces of the fresh bread, trying to peer out the back window for a glimpse of Wink and Chapman. As she set the slices on a plate, she turned to offer some to Chester and stopped short.
“Uh, Horatio? Did you see where Chester went?”
After saying he hadn’t, he resumed his humming.
Ella set the plate on the island and leaned down, looking for the gray-haired rodent.
Whatever happened to keeping him on a leash?
“Chester…” she called in her best sing-song voice. “I’ve got more peanuts.” She shook the container, hoping it’d bring him forth.
When that failed, she got on her hands and knees, looking under the fridge, praying no one would walk into the kitchen because they’d have a perfect view of her underwear.
The kitchen door swung in, and Ella shot to her feet.
“Pink hearts? What are you, fifteen?”
“Flo, help me find Chester.”
“Why would I do that?”
Ella shot a look at the back door where she knew Wink would come in any minute. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to tell Wink how you bought all of Rita’s ricotta cheese so she couldn’t use any on her lasagna at the next potluck.”
Air hissed between Flo’s teeth as she sucked in a breath. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Help me find Chester, and your secret’s safe with me.”
“And me.” Horatio held up a spatula.
“And Horatio.”
After a half-second of consideration, Flo agreed. “Be right back. I have something I think will help.”
She darted into the diner. Ella prayed no customers showed up in the next few minutes to divert her from the search party.
Flo bounded back in, a small canister in her hand.
“What is that?” Ella asked, her
voice rising in panic. “Is that mace?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s bear spray.”
Ella opened her mouth, closed it, then pinched the bridge of her nose. “Wh-how-You can’t use bear spray on a squirrel.”
“Why not? He’s an animal?” She pointed at the can that looked alarmingly like a blow horn. “Says so.”
“There’s a marked difference in size between a bear and a squirrel.” She looked to Horatio for help. “I’m not wrong, right?”
“No, they are definitely different in size.”
“See? Horatio knows it’s wrong—”
“But I must ask, what is a bear?”
Ella held up a finger. “We’ll circle back to that, Horatio. I feel like this shouldn’t even have to be explained, Flo. You can’t use that on a small animal. Or a human.” She emphasized the last word.
Flo made a sound like “pff.” She held the spray up, squinting at the instructions in fine print.
Ella breathed deeply, vacillating between disarming the crazy woman or locating Chester. A second later, the decision was made for her.
A whoosh of air preceded something warm and furry slamming into her head. Ella screamed and grabbed at the squirrel, feeling fur as he dug his claws into her hair to keep from toppling off.
She only had a moment to register the dispenser of bear spray pointed at her.
“Flo, no!”
The kitchen filled with the hiss of potent aerosol. Chester leaped off Ella’s head to the island then flew like Superman through the passthrough to the safety of the diner.
Between the moment Flo pressed the dispenser and a second or two after Chester smartly abandoned them, she’d felt nothing but the wet spray, most of it on her hair.
Then a fire from hell hit her without mercy. It burned her skin. Her eyes shut involuntarily, unable to open. Not just tears, but streams of water gushed from her ducts. Her nose clogged, and her snot had its own snot.
Doubling over, Ella gagged and coughed, wheezed and sneezed. Despite being partially incapacitated, she still managed to throw out every terrible thing she could think of to call Flo—half of them not even real words. Just noises.
Flo and Horatio weren’t spared, either. She could hear them huddled on the ground as well, hacking up kidneys and lungs. Someone vomited.
Ella heard the back door burst open and hit the wall and something fall.
“Don’t!” Ella gasped, but the word came out garbled.
“What on—” Wink managed before she began choking.
Ella felt fresh air from the open door. Crawling on her hands and knees, she felt her way towards it. A strong hand helped her to her feet. Chapman guided her to the sink and splashed water over her eyes and face before guiding her outside.
“There’s a step,” he said as she stumbled to the ground.
“Yep, found it.”
He left her so he could retrieve the others. Ella’s eyelids still refused to open. Also, her tongue wasn’t working quite right. Some of the spray had gotten into her mouth, and she tasted strange things like metals and colors and cookies.
She tipped her head back and turned in the direction she hoped was Twin Hills. With tears still streaming down her face and probably blood or snot or a combination of both oozing from her nose, she rocked on her feet.
“Yep, just another day in Keystone.”
Steps shuffled as Sheriff Chapman deposited Flo—obvious by the amount of cursing. A half-minute followed and out came Horatio followed by Wink.
“Someone wanna tell me what the hell happened here?” Chapman’s usual drawl had an edge.
“Well, Sheriff,” Ella started, “Flo—”
“I’m over here.”
Ella turned.
“No, here.”
She turned again, calling, “Marco.” She heard a sigh and gave one last turn, muttering, “No one ever says ‘Polo’. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Hurricane Flo.” She detailed what transpired. When she mentioned the pet squirrel, Wink yelled his name and went running around the building to the front. Or at least that’s what Ella gathered judging by the subsequent yelling and pounding footsteps. Her eyes were still fused shut.
The sheriff’s deep voice shifted as if he’d turned his head. “Flo Henderson—”
Ella coughed to cover a snicker.
“—you’re lucky no one was seriously hurt.”
“We sure about that?” Ella pointed at her closed eyes.
“Furthermore,” Chapman said a little louder, “I’m confiscating your bear spray. How you ever got your hands on it in the first place… ‘course I say that about half the weapons I’ve taken from you.”
“Wait,” Ella said, “how many have you confiscated from her? Know what? I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me. I’ll sleep better not knowing.”
“But what if I see a bear?”
“I think he’d know to run the other way,” Chapman said. “They’re smart creatures.”
Wink returned and told Horatio and Ella to take the rest of the day off. She’d close up the diner.
Flo managed to convince Chapman to walk her, an “old incapacitated lady” home.
Wink grabbed Ella’s elbow and guided her to the inn behind Chapman and Flo.
Unsure of how many steps ahead the sheriff and Crazy Flo were, Ella whispered, “What did Chapman want to talk to you about?”
“Just wanted to chat.”
“He doesn’t think that you had something to do with Stan’s death, does he?”
It was a long moment before Wink responded. “Maybe.”
Once her boss had deposited Ella in her room, she went to check on Flo. A second later, a knock came at the door, and the sheriff asked if he could open it for a word.
It creaked, and she heard a single footstep of his cowboy boot on the hardwood floor. “Miss Barton, I’m sorry to tell you this, and I forgot with everything happening just now and Stan’s death, but I had to release Six today.”
All the air left her lungs, and she felt like she’d been blasted in the face again with pepper spray. She felt her way to her mattress and slumped onto the bed. The part of her that always searched for a silver lining in every situation, the part of her that deflected with humor, vanished.
“I’m beginning to think you want him to kill me.”
“That’s not so.”
“Really?” She tried to hold back the hateful words, but part of her fear was bubbling up and venting as rage. “I’m trying, Sheriff. I’m really trying here. I’m doing my best to deal with this new life, but some days, I’m barely hanging on by a thread. And you make it much harder. You’ve made it clear you don’t like me. If Six killed me, that’d kill two birds with one stone. I’d be gone, and you could finally charge him with a serious enough crime.”
“That couldn’t be further from the truth, Miss Barton.” His voice came out softer than she’d ever heard. “I’m sorry. I really am. But my hands are tied. Where can I put him? I can’t keep him in that holding cell forever.”
“Don’t you have some kind of tribunal?”
“There’s been talk of setting one up.”
“Maybe it should be more than talk.”
It was a long while before he responded. “You’re not wrong. If he comes near you again, threatens you in any way, come to me, and I’ll take care of him. For good. No more catch and release.” Without another word, he left, the sound of his boots on the steps covered the beating of her heart.
Wink’s voice carried down the hallway.
“No, I will not read to you.”
She came back into Ella’s room and laid a cold rag over her eyes. After Ella assured her she was fine, Wink closed the door again, leaving Ella to her tears, snot, and thoughts.
CHAPTER 7
THE WOMAN STARING back at Ella in the mirror looked like a prizefighter. Her eyes were rimmed pink, but at least she could open them now. Her nose was as red as Rudolph’s and dripped like she had a cold.
Despite all this, she
decided to go for a run. A nap and several facial washes later hadn’t cleared the worries that had been running rampant, so she figured a little exercise might do the trick.
She slipped on her yoga pants and a tank top. Before heading out, she opened the memo app on her smartphone and created a new document titled, Stan. Obviously, people were upset about him trying to install several turbines on Twin Hills, but was that really something worth killing over?
She remembered when he’d asked for her signature, his demeanor changed the moment she refused. Maybe he’d behaved similarly and become hostile with the wrong person.
She shook her head, deciding he was far more likely killed by someone less than thrilled with the prospect of losing their property.
Wink’s face popped into her head, and she dismissed it just as quickly. Wink didn’t have a violent bone in her body. When Kay had been killed, Ella had mistakenly suspected the Murrays.
This time, she decided, she was going to trust those closest to her.
After slipping her phone into her armband, Ella shoved her earbuds in and headed out the back of the inn towards the lake. The humid air drenched her skin as her feet pounded over the trail.
It took longer than she would’ve liked for her to fall into a rhythm and for her second wind to hit. She blamed the muggy rainforest.
Her breath became labored, still burning from the stupid bear spray, as she passed the park. The old maple and oak trees were catching up to the sudden shifts in weather, their leaves turning various shades of flames, despite the heat. It was like fall in reverse.
As she passed the park, she noticed several spots in the soft dirt near the shoreline had been dug into. Her first thought was that Chester’s cousins were busy burying their acorns.
When she reached the towering evergreen forest, it was hard not to think of her recent adventure with Wink, but even more so, her unfortunate encounter with Six a couple weeks back.
Somewhere in the shadows and ferns was where she’d discovered his illegal still. Where he’d nearly shot her. Ella dug her shoes into the dirt, ignoring the burn in her thighs and the way the air stung her eyes.