by Maymee Bell
“It’s no secret she wished some sort of harm on Ray after he said she was nothing more than a trailer-park trash real estate agent.” Reba tucked her lips together and frowned. “I know she didn’t sell a lot of upscale real estate and really worked in the poorer side in Rumford, but he didn’t need to call her names.”
“It doesn’t make her a killer.” This was a bleed and I had to put a stop to it. “It appears everyone has already tried and hung Madison before there’s even an investigation.”
“You think it’s a coincidence she said she’d love to kill him to more than one person right before he just so happened to be killed?” Reba’s face contorted.
Tammy Dugan’s heels clicked along the floor and headed toward us.
“I’m going out for a few,” she said to Reba. She nodded politely at me. “I hope you’re doing okay, Sophia.”
“I’m fine. Thanks.” I couldn’t help but think of why she’d tell Carter that she really believed Madison had done it. I couldn’t let Tammy get away. “I’d really like to talk to you if you have a minute.”
“Not now. I’ll be back soon,” Tammy called over her shoulder and rushed out the door.
“What about Giles? Do you think he could’ve been so mad at Ray?” I blurted it out and brought Reba back into the conversation we were having before Tammy ran past us. “He’d have the most to lose if Ray sold the property. Shouldn’t he be a suspect?”
It made perfect sense to me. Giles Dugan had more motive than anyone. If Ray had sold the property, he wasn’t going to renew Giles’s lease, hurting Giles’s income in the process.
“Mr. Dugan is a man of integrity. A man of honor. He’d never lay a hand on anyone,” Reba looked over her shoulder. “Look at him now. He’s back there trying to hold it together while his son’s best friend is down at the morgue with a blow to the head.” She dabbed both eyes this time.
“I didn’t know that Ray and Perry were friends.” It was news to me, but news nonetheless.
“How else do you think Giles got the land? One night the boys were drinking at the bar. Perry was telling how his dad had this crazy idea to make wine.” She scoffed. “Who in Kentucky makes wine? Bourbon, yes. Tobacco, absolutely. But wine?” She shrugged. “It was Ray who came to Giles the next day and said he’d heard all about his crazy notions. Right then and there, Giles quit his job at the factory, and Ray leased him the land. That, my dear Sophia, as they say, is all she wrote.”
“How did Perry feel about Ray selling the land?” I asked.
“I don’t know nothin’ about it. I just know Giles said that Perry was devastated by Ray’s death.” She frowned. “We all are. Ray might’ve been a complete jerk to some, but here he was like one of the family. Like one of the employees.” She waved her hand at me. “I’m sorry—what was it you came here for?”
“My check.” There was so much information swirling in my head. “I’ve not been paid for the fund-raiser.”
“Oh.” She pulled back and glanced behind her shoulder. “Tammy has the checkbook with her. Do you think you could come back in a couple of days when the shock dies down?”
“Yeah. Absolutely,” I agreed.
“Hello.” Megyn, the mail carrier, walked into the building, gripping the mail in her hand. “There you go.”
“Megyn, I didn’t know you came out here,” I said and watched as Reba gave her some mail.
“I do all of the downtown stores and a few of the out-of-the-way places like here. I don’t mind driving around, especially as the seasons are changing. The Dugans don’t really care if I get here early in the morning or late in the night.” She leaned in. “How’s it going around here?”
“Very sad.” Reba’s lips quivered when she offered a weak smile. “Would you like one of Sophia’s fabulous Cherry Flip-Flops for the ride back into town?”
“I’d love one.” Megyn looked into the box. “I’ll take the one with all the filling oozing out.”
“Good choice,” I said and waved her off. Then I turned back to Reba. “Can I ask you another question?”
“You certainly have a lot of them.” She looked up from under her brows.
“Why did you give Ray Peel the Cherry Flip-Flops when you told me you’d gotten them to give to Giles when you came into work? I mean, you said you had something to do before you went to work that day.” I watched her body language.
She was definitely a little fidgety, and her eyes darted back and forth to different items on her desk, which told me I’d struck a nerve somewhere.
“I see your mother is starting to rub off on you,” she said and laughed as if she were joking. “When I got to the office, Ray was here, and he noticed the box. I offered him one because I was nice. That’s all.” She pushed her chair back from the desk and stood up. “If you don’t mind, I’ve still got a job to do while the winery is still open.”
“About that: I overheard Ray telling someone that the winery was going to be shut down after the fund-raiser last night. It looks far from shut down,” I said.
“I don’t know anything about that. All I know is the sheriff’s department has been in and out all day. Taking computers and papers.” She tapped her fingertips on the top of her desk. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on Mr. Dugan.”
“It looks like he’s busy shredding papers.” My eyes grazed her shoulder and looked back into the office through the partially open door. “I’m guessing those are papers the sheriff’s department didn’t want.”
“It was good to see you. I’ll let Tammy know you’d like your check.” She turned and walked off.
“Do you happen to know if the wine convention is still going to be here tonight?” I called after her.
“No.” She stopped and shook her head. “Now, I did hear it got cancelled.”
“Lanie Truvinski was the woman in charge of the convention. Do you happen to have her paperwork or signed copies of the venue?” I asked.
“I don’t because I didn’t handle that one.” Her eyes narrowed. She glared at me, or at least from the distance she was from me it seemed like her stare was intent.
“I thought you handled all the venues that rented the winery?” I asked.
“I do, but this was a special occasion. Ray Peel asked Mr. Dugan if he could do it himself.” She lifted her chin in the air. Her gaze drew down her nose.
When I started to walk away, I mustered up enough courage to ask, “How well did you know Ray?” This time my tone was a little louder than normal.
She stopped.
“That’s an odd question.” She raked the edges of her hair and walked back toward me. “I mean, of course I knew him because he was in here, but not well enough to know much about him.”
“I was asking around town about the new Italian restaurant.” I looked up at the ceiling like I’d forgotten the name, but I was trying to get her to respond. She was as cold as ice. “Café Italia. Yeah. That’s it. Anyway,”—I shook my head and smiled—“someone told me to ask you about it because they’d seen you and Ray there.”
I left out the cozied-up part and the corner table, because, by the look on her face and how the blood had drained, she knew what I was talking about.
“Who said?” she asked.
The phone in my back pocket buzzed. I pulled it out and saw it was Charlotte. I gave Reba the finger wave and scurried out the door.
“I can’t remember,” I called over my shoulder and made a mental note about her behavior. “I’m glad he enjoyed the Flip-Flops, though. At least that’s what he told me.” I knew I’d left her there with a question in her mind about what I knew. Or at least I’d gotten her attention. Her odd behavior didn’t go unnoticed. I wasn’t sure what all of this meant, and she wasn’t going to tell me … yet.
I stepped out into the sun. As it warmed my face, and before I answered the phone, I sucked in a deep breath of fresh air that you could only get in the country.
“Hi, Charlotte. Is something wrong?” I had to ask right off the b
at because Charlotte rarely called me during the working day.
“Sophia, get back to the bakery. We have a problem.” The tone in her voice alarmed me. She hung up the phone before I could ask what was wrong.
I threw the car in gear and drove as fast as I could.
Chapter Seven
Excitement and anxiety mixed in the core of my body. When I drove past the bakery and turned down the alley to park in the back, I noticed there was a line of customers out the door.
The back door of the bakery was propped open, the oven timers were going off, and loud chatter filtered through the swinging door. On my way into the bakery, I turned off the timers and looked in the ovens to get out whatever was in there so it wouldn’t burn. Beads of sweat gathered on my forehead from the heat in the kitchen.
“What are those?” I asked myself and bent down close to one of the pans. I looked at the lump of dough Charlotte had concocted into something unrecognizable. “Charlotte?” I called.
“In the shop!” she hollered back.
I grabbed an apron and tied it around me on my way out the swinging door. My awaiting public needed me.
Charlotte’s eyes glittered with panic after I pushed through the door. “You could’ve told me about the coupon,” she whispered.
“What coupon?” I asked and watched as she iced some of those lumpy things I’d taken out of the oven.
“The Ford’s Bakery Maple Long Johns coupon.” She sat the bag of icing on the counter and dragged out a copy of the Rumford Journal. The one I’d not paid attention to this morning when Megyn dropped it off with the rest of the bills.
“What the heck?” I grabbed the paper and took a good long look at a coupon that read “Free donut with the purchase of a Ford’s Bakery Maple Long John.”
“I didn’t do this,” I exclaimed.
“Tell them that.” She was busy icing the rest of her lumpy dough. “I had to come out here to finish the decorating because we’re so busy.”
The line had grown longer since I’d arrived. People were starting to get a little antsy and peering over one another to look at me.
“Is that …?” I pointed and questioned.
“My version of the Long John? Yes,” she replied with heavy irony. “And my version of the maple icing.”
Panic struck me deep when I turned around and saw all the people were holding a coupon, staring at me, and gossiping among themselves. The looks on their faces weren’t happy, and I’d noticed a few of them were checking their watches or phones.
For some odd reason, I felt a bit of relief when Carter pushed his way through the door. He too had a paper stuck up under his arm. His eyes met mine. Without saying it, I was screaming for help inside, and he must’ve seen it.
“I’m assuming you didn’t think people would see your coupon?” he asked.
“I didn’t put that in the paper. I have no idea how it got in there.” I sucked in a deep breath.
“Someone did.” He turned back to look at the line. “And these folks are here to collect.”
“I’m trying.” Charlotte was on the verge of tears.
I took a bite of her version of the famous Long John that the citizens of Rumford were dying to have, and the dough was still sticky inside.
“I can’t help it. I’m doing my best.” Her voice was fragile and shaky.
“Don’t worry.” I wanted to reassure her so she wouldn’t be upset. That wouldn’t help anything. “I’ve been trying to duplicate Dixie Ford’s Maple Long John all my life in the kitchen, and I’ve never gotten it right.” I tried to chew the rest of Charlotte’s version, but I just couldn’t do that kind of injustice to my taste buds.
She’d tried so hard. Maybe making the Long Johns just wasn’t her thing.
“We can’t do this.” I spit the remaining donut in a napkin and threw it in the trash. “Can I please have everyone’s attention?” I walked around the counter and waited for everyone to gather inside. “I’m sorry for the confusion. We didn’t put a coupon in the paper. I’m not sure if the editors at the Rumford Journal found an old ad from years ago, but I do feel terrible about this. I’m more than happy to honor the coupon with the delicious and fast-selling peanut butter and jam sandwich cookies.”
There was a murmur that blanketed the bakery, and soon heads were nodding in agreement.
“Thank you so much. I promise I’ll try and get this worked out.” I looked at Carter and let out a sigh of relief, and then I looked at Charlotte. A cry of relief broke from her lips.
“These are awful.” She laughed and dumped the pan in the trash.
For the next hour, Charlotte and I filled the customer’s coupons and even took a few orders for some birthday cakes and special-order cookies. Carter told me he’d be back because he needed to talk to me. Charlotte flipped the sign on the door to “Closed.” I hated to do it, but somehow this coupon was put in the paper and the only way to stop, gather my wits, and figure things out was to close for the day.
“What are we going to do about the peanut butter and jam sandwiches you just gave away?” Charlotte asked after the last of the customers had left the bakery. “Didn’t that woman already pay for those?”
“We aren’t going to do anything.” I knew she was referring to the special-order made by Lanie Truvinski and the wine convention. “I was at the winery trying to collect payment for the fund-raiser and found out the wine convention had been cancelled.”
“That woman didn’t call you to cancel?” Charlotte’s eye widened.
“Not a word. But I plan on calling her.” It might’ve worked out for the good that she didn’t get the order because I wasn’t sure how I would’ve gotten all the coupon customers happy, but I still didn’t like her skipping out and not calling me. “I guess I need to give her money back.”
“No, you won’t. That money is fair and square yours. You held up to your end of the deal. Don’t let her get away with it.” Charlotte leaned against the counter. “I’m going to go clean the mess in the kitchen.”
“Thanks so much, Charlotte. I have no idea what I’d do without you.” I squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry this happened.”
“Do you really think it was a mistake on the part of the Rumford Journal?” She asked a very good question.
“I might have an idea.” I stewed on it for a second. “Bitsy,” I gasped when I recalled her saying I could use some more customers.
“Bitsy is a hoot and a holler and a lot of things, but would she put a coupon in the paper for something you don’t make?” Charlotte asked and walked through the swinging door.
I followed her. Both of us started to clean up the doughy mess she’d made from trying to come up with a recipe for the Long Johns.
“I didn’t want to say anything because it would make you really excited, but I found the Fords’ journal with all of their recipes in one of the desk drawers in the office.” I would’ve shown her, but I’d left it in my car, along with my purse, after I’d gotten panicked from seeing the line of customers and ran into the bakery. “When she came in yesterday morning, she mentioned we could use some more customers.”
“We’re always closed on Sundays.” Charlotte washed the baking trays and put them away.
“I reminded her. But then I made the mistake of showing her the Fords’ journal.” I took another tray from her and dried it before putting it back where it belonged. “The Maple Long John recipe is in there.”
“And why aren’t we making them?” Charlotte wanted to know.
“Because I’m not sure if it’s my property to replicate, and that’s what I wanted to ask Bitsy. I wanted to see what her thoughts were on it. I’m going over to their house for supper tonight, and I’ll find out if she put the ad in or not. In the meantime, I’m going to call the paper.” If she did do it, she’d not be able to deny it to my face. If I called her, she’d lie and I wouldn’t know it. It was the face-to-face she wasn’t good at.
“If the Fords wanted it, they’d have taken it.” Cha
rlotte said exactly what I’d thought.
“I did call them, and some young girl answered the phone.” I grabbed the peanut butter, eggs, and butter out of the refrigerator. As long as the coupon was still circulating, I had to make enough peanut butter and jam cookie sandwiches to last. Since they were pretty easy and a lot could be made at one time, it was a perfect substitute. “She said Dixie wasn’t available to talk.”
“I bet it was Patsy’s daughter.” Charlotte worked alongside me with the dry ingredients: the flour, baking soda, and sugar. Just like the ingredients for this cookie, Charlotte and I worked perfectly together. This made the process go much faster.
“I didn’t know Patsy had a daughter.” Patsy was the Fords’ only daughter and had been in school a few years ahead of me. They were just another family I’d not kept up with while I was away. The only people I had kept up with were Bitsy and Dad. I rarely made it home because in the food industry you rarely get a day off.
“Yeah.” Charlotte’s brows rose. “She got pregnant right out of high school. You don’t remember that? Everyone was talking about it. Even the chickens under the porch knew that.”
“No. I guess my head was stuck in a flour and sugar sack all through high school,” I joked. “But I do remember she was a wild one.” I remembered how many times Bitsy would tell my dad how she felt sorry for the Fords because Patsy was always in trouble.
“Apparently, the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. I heard down at the salon that Patsy leaves her daughter with the Fords all the time. That’s why I bet it was her.”
“She didn’t have very good manners.” I got all the ingredients ready to make the icing while I gave Charlotte all of my wet ingredients to be mixed in with her dry ingredients.
Both of us looked over our shoulders when the back door of the bakery opened.
“You’re not going to believe this.” Madison stepped in and slammed the door. “I’m the only suspect in the murder of Ray Peel. Sophia, I need your help.”
Chapter Eight