by Ami Diane
Will spat out his regulator and floated on his back.
Ella’s adrenaline kicked back up. “Will? What’s wrong? Did you run out of air?”
Her foot dangled over the edge of the boat again, and she reconsidered her decision not to dive in. Reaching behind her, she scooped up one of the oars and held it out to him. The moment his hand closed around it, she reeled him in—only a little too aggressively.
His head hit the side with a thump.
“Oops, sorry about that. And that.” His head had hit the side again. “Probably should wear a helmet next time, am I right?”
When he didn’t respond, her unease grew. She did her best to help him clamber aboard. Water slopped everywhere, including over part of her. He tore his mask off.
“Will?”
“I’m okay, El,” he sputtered finally.
“What happened?”
A crevasse formed between his brows. “There’s another body.”
CHAPTER 10
ELLA STOOD ON the dock next to Sheriff Chapman, watching Will row Pauline to the center of the lake. Before going to the station to notify the sheriff, Ella and Will had tied off a fishing bobber to one of his diving weights and marked the spot.
“You didn’t touch it this time, did you?” Chapman asked.
“No.”
“You sound disappointed.”
One of her eyebrows quirked up. “What? No.” They lapsed into a silence that lasted a whole five seconds. “Well, maybe eighty percent not, twenty percent disappointed.”
“Hm.”
“Sixty-fifty.”
Water lapped at the pylons underneath.
“Fine, fifty-fifty.”
“Three bodies in just under a month,” Chapman said, his voice slow and thoughtful, “and you’re somehow there for every one of them.” She could feel his eyes shift to her.
She winced. When he phrased it that way, even she began to have doubts about her innocence.
“So, this isn’t normal for here? That’s a relief. For a little bit there, I was worried I got stuck in a town with enough murder and mystery, it’d send Scooby Doo running with his tail between his legs.”
“Who—”
“Talking dog that helps solves mysteries.”
“The dogs talk where you’re from?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Also, I resent the implication that I somehow have something to do with this. First of all, this is a skeleton. Second of all, Will found it. Not me. Third, he was also there when Kay died—and with me when we discovered Stan, as a matter of fact.” A fact that she was just now realizing. “Wow. Maybe he and I shouldn’t hang out? That’s really bad karma. I mean, not to throw him under the bus or anything.”
She shook her head to stop from rambling. “My point is, clearly we both have bad luck.”
He was silent, turning back to the boat. From this distance, Ella could tell Will was trying to convince the coroner to don the diving gear. A few minutes of this went by before he began hefting the equipment on and splashed into the water himself.
Ella wished she’d gone with them but there hadn’t been enough room for three people, and the sheriff didn’t want to borrow another boat.
Her stomach growled, complaining about the fact that it was nearing noon and all she’d consumed was half a loaf of banana bread—something she’d pay for later.
Turning, she glanced at the back of Grandma’s Kitchen and began tapping her foot on the dock. This was taking longer than it had a couple days before, and she was late for work—again. Also, the fact that she had another similar experience to compare this with was concerning on a whole other level.
“It doesn’t make sense. Think this could be a dumping ground for a murderer?” The question was rhetorical, something she needed to process aloud. “A serial killer,” she added softly.
“Could be. Nothing much about this makes sense.” Frustration edged his tone.
She could tell he was used to things black and white, no convoluted gray mess to wade through. If a man died, there was usually someone holding a smoking gun.
He ran a finger over his mustache. “I bet you hear a lot working at Wink’s, don’t you?”
Ella considered the strange question. “Sure. I hear a lot about a lot of things, mostly stuff I never wanted to know. For example, did you know Betty can’t process dairy? And Mr. what’s-his-face with the tattoos on his head, he fancies wearing skirts every now and again?”
Chapman stared at her a little too long, took in a slow breath, and swore. “I swear, Miss Barton, one day I’ll get used to talking to you.”
“But today is not that day, am I right?” She shot him one of her best grins which he promptly ignored.
“Alls I was saying is, small town like this, word travels faster than a lightning strike. And it probably goes right through that diner.”
Ella nodded slowly. Just by the nature of her job, she’d been privy to several private conversations, ones more serious than bowel movements and clothing preferences. “I suppose.”
“Since you can’t seem to stay outta trouble, might make some use of you.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, keep your ears open. Don’t go nosing around, mind you, but if you happen to overhear anything, you’ll let me know, yes?”
Out in the water, Will broke the surface of the lake, putting something long and skinny and very much like a femur into the rowboat.
A small part of Ella was offended the sheriff felt the need to ask. Of course, if she heard anything more than just the rumor mill working overtime she’d tell him—anything pertinent to crime or dead bodies, that is.
“I will.”
“Just be careful. Ears only. I don’t want you sticking your nose into anything that might get you hurt—again.”
Ella faced him, studying his sharp profile and gray hair. “Aw, I was right. You do like me.”
His mustache twitched. “Naw, I just don’t want another body to deal with.”
“It’s okay. You can admit it. You’re soft on me—”
“No.”
“You see me like the daughter you never had but always wanted—”
“Spawn. Almost as bad as Six.”
Her hand tapped his back before giving him a playful punch on the shoulder. “It’s okay. Your secret’s safe with me, you ol’ softy.”
Ella burst through the front door of Wink’s diner, and the bell jingled merrily overhead. She rushed over to the soda fountain where Wink was mixing ice cream and root beer.
“Sorry,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. She leaned in close to Wink’s blue hair.
“Dear, you’re breathing on my neck.”
Ella lowered her voice. “Will and I found another body—a skeleton—in the lake.”
Wink’s hands froze on the lever for the ice cream dispenser. “What?”
One of the gentlemen sitting at the lunch counter cleared his throat. “How ‘bout it, Wink? I’ve been waiting for half an hour.”
“And you can wait another minute. It’s not like you need the calories.” She stared pointedly at his soft arms and cheeks. His skin flushed, and he muttered something about the service in the place going downhill.
Ella’s eyes darted around at the handful of patrons. “Not now. I’ll tell you in the kitchen.”
By the time Ella had finished tying her apron, the kitchen door swung in.
“Okay, give me the scoop,” Wink said without missing a beat.
Ella quickly filled her in on her and Will’s lake venture that morning. Horatio listened in, flipping patties and twirling his spatula like a baton.
“Think whoever did it is the same person who killed Stan?” he asked.
Ella shrugged. “It’s possible. But we’re all assuming that this person was down at the bottom of the lake for nefarious reasons, myself included. But who knows how old the skeleton is? Maybe it was an accident. A drowning a long time ago.”
“Perhaps,” Wink said
. She fed Chester a peanut, and his tail swished from atop his perch on the ancient refrigerator. “Or maybe it was more recent, and the elements broke down the tissue faster.”
Ella tilted her head, considering the theory. She had no idea how long it took adipose tissue to decompose in cold waters, but Pauline would. “Look at you, Nancy Drew.”
The fryer sizzled as Horatio dropped thick slices of potatoes in it. “It’s definitely too strange to be a consequence.”
“Coincidence,” Ella corrected. He shrugged.
“Well, if you find out anything,” Wink said, “let me know. I have to get going.”
She made a chittering noise, grabbed a peanut, and held it over her shoulder. The squirrel jumped from the fridge, his flannel shirt flying behind him like a cape, and landed on her.
Ella picked up a knife and began to chop lettuce. “Where’re you headed?”
“Got a meeting. I’ll be back in an hour.” After grabbing a handful of nuts, she slipped out the back door. The hinges squealed as it slammed shut.
Ella stared at the chipped paint on the wood, wondering what that was about. Maybe Flo knew why Wink had been dodgy lately.
“Got cow feed with the rainbow here,” Horatio said. He sprinkled crushed hazelnuts and raisins over a salad before handing it off to her.
With the ticket in one hand and the salad in the other, Ella swung into the diner, trying to read the table number on the ticket.
She stood in the middle of the checkered linoleum floor for a couple of minutes before giving up on deciphering the hieroglyphics that was Wink’s handwriting.
“Got a salad here. A trout hazelnut salad.” No one answered. “I mean, cow feed with the full rainbow.”
A hand crept up from one of the booths. Ella stiffened as she approached the table and came face-to-face with the unpleasant, blonde-haired woman who’d been collecting signatures with Stan outside the diner the day before he died. When she spotted Ella, her mouth puckered as if she’d sucked a lemon.
Ella resisted the urge to dump the plate in her lap, instead, setting it down just hard enough to cause a cherry tomato to jump ship.
“Oops,” Ella said without the slightest hint of a sincerity.
Today, the woman’s sheet of hair was rolled into a French twist, her makeup as expertly done as Rose’s. She looked down her nose at the salad, stabbed at a leaf of lettuce, and nibbled it like a small rodent.
“You better not be here collecting signatures,” Ella said.
“Of course not.” A sickly sweet smile spread over the woman’s face.
Ella considered her range of retorts, but there wasn’t a single one that didn’t get her fired. She settled on a lengthy glare then left to check on another table. She’d made it two steps before the woman called out.
“I think you forgot my water.”
“It’s right there.” Ella pointed at the iced water on the table.
“Yes, but I wanted a lemon.”
“Fine. I’ll get you a lemon.”
“I need new water, though. This has been sitting too long.” Her nose wrinkled. “It smells like the sewer.”
You would know.
Without a word, Ella grabbed the water, making sure a few drops sloshed over the side, then disappeared into the kitchen.
Grabbing a lemon, she slid a butcher knife from a block and chopped it clean through the fruit in one slice. The knife hit the board with a thud.
“Hey, watch it. You’re getting lemon on my lasagna.”
She apologized to Horatio then took one of the halves and dropped it into the same cup of water. Marching back into the diner, she deposited it on the table. She crossed her arms and stared.
“W-what is this?”
“What? You asked for lemon water. I gave you lemon water. I fail to see the problem.” She left for the safety of the kitchen before the woman could demand anything more. Two minutes later, Ella’s conscious got the better of her, and she returned to the table with fresh water and actual lemon slices before ducking back into the kitchen.
“Who is she?” Ella huffed to Horatio.
“Who?”
“That blonde-haired ice queen.”
Horatio’s thick eyebrows rose up, and he peered through the pass-through. “Hm, don’t know. I’ve seen her mostly around Stan. They used to eat here together all the time.”
“Was he having an affair with her?” She hated how presumptuous the question was, but she just didn’t have the energy to care.
“Probably. Stan didn’t seem like the type that stayed with one woman for long.”
“How long has he—was he married?”
“Don’t know. He and Lilly were here before I arrived.”
“Lilly’s his wife? The one whose thighs could crack your head open like a walnut?”
“Yes, I suppose she is rather muscular.”
“Rather muscular? She looks like She-Hulk. Are they from Keystone?”
He shook his head, his gaze searching information from some far off point. “No, but I’m not sure where they’re from.”
Back in the diner, the information bounced around in her head while she hung around the cash register as the last of the lunch rush settled their bills. Thankfully, most of it was paid in legal tender—with only one person paying in batteries and another with cheese.
In rare form, Horatio came out of the kitchen and settled himself onto one of the stools. He twirled around, reminding her of a bored toddler.
A strange quiet settled over the place. As much as Ella loved their customers, this was her favorite time of the day. Her brain had time to catch up and process everything, and she could recharge.
After swirling soft serve, homemade vanilla ice cream onto two cones, she sat on the stool next to Horatio. The ache in her feet diminished as they chatted about where he grew up in Italy, and he helped her brush up on her Italian.
As she bit down the last of her cone, she glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been nearly two hours since their boss had left.
“Do you know where Wink went?”
His brows scrunched together. “It was a strange conversation. Someone called about the ‘Save Twin Hills’ campaign. I only heard Wink’s side, but it sounded like they were having an emergency meeting.”
“I didn’t know that there was a campaign to save it.”
He nodded. “They formed a committee after Stan started petitioning for the expansion.”
Ella studied a crack in the countertop. She found it strange this committee hadn’t spoken up during the town hall meeting, then again, it had been hard to get a word in edgewise.
“So, it sounds like Stan’s plan might still go through.” She turned the statement into a question.
“Guess so.”
Worry over Wink began to take root. Several people had expressed their dislike of using Twin Hills for alternative power, but few had as much at stake or as much to lose with the expansion than those who lived near the top, namely Wink.
And with more to lose came more motive for wanting the project leader dead. Chapman may be an old law dog, but he was no fool. He was sure to have Wink in his crosshairs.
Ella also wondered why Wink had never mentioned the campaign to her, consoling herself with the fact that Wink probably had a lot on her plate.
One thing was clear to Ella. Whoever had killed Stan was most likely someone who didn’t want to see the wind farm expanded.
While she rinsed the ice cream from her fingers, she tried to think of who else besides Wink didn’t want the turbines on the hills. The professor. And he’d been sitting beside Wink at the meeting.
She mentally added the reserved, middle-aged gentleman to her suspect list, a man she knew very little about other than the fact that he was Will’s friend and mentor and looked a lot like Doc from Back to the Future.
But Wink and the professor couldn’t be the only two. She was just about to ask Horatio who else lived on the hills when a customer walked in.
Cli
mbing to her aching feet, she seated the person in a booth and handed them each a menu, leaving Horatio to enjoy the last of his break alone.
Another hour later, Wink returned. Other than a strained expression, she seemed her optimistic, spunky self. She even had the gall to suggest another hang gliding adventure—an offer Ella promptly declined, her exact words being something like, “hell no.”
Ella decided to wait for a better time to ask about the committee. It stood to reason that whoever was on the committee had the most to lose with the expansion project, putting nearly all of them at the top of her suspect list. And that wasn’t a short, casual conversation to have with Wink.
When her shift ended, Ella called Will on the local landline to see if he wanted to go for a run. He made static noises into the phone and asked her to repeat the question several times—despite the fact that she could hear him perfectly—ending with him saying she was cutting out and him hanging up on her. He’d been less than enthusiastic on their first one.
She rolled her eyes and decided to go solo. Her shoes pounded over the trail as she tried to pump the stress of the day from her body. Rounding the lake, she passed the park on her right.
Children from the caravan camp chased each other to and from the water, their laughter bouncing across the water. A woman hovered near the edge, tossing the contents of her bucket into the lake. What flew out was red and chunky and looked suspiciously like entrails.
A few yards away, under an elm with leaves the color of fire, Sheriff Chapman talked animatedly at the old man from the day before. Based on his gesticulating and veins in his neck, she guessed he was trying to convey that the visitors had overstayed their welcome.
When Chapman spotted the guts flying through the air, he yelled and strode over to the bewildered woman.
Ella kept her head low as she lumbered past. Soon, their voices faded into the background. Chapman had seemed to be getting his point across just fine without her help.
As the trail curved, the park became forest and cottages and Lake Drive. When she reached the first cottage, a short brownstone with a detached garage, she slowed to a power walk. Her chest heaved, and she clutched a stitch in her side.