Die a Yellow Ribbon

by Teresa Trent

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, looking up from his work.

  “I was wondering if you would mind us looking around the crime scene—for the newspaper?”

  He pitched his head back slightly to the left, looking like he was not going to grant us entry. “Rocky was already here. Besides this isn’t the kind of column you write. But the actual crime scene is the alley, not the store.”

  I had to think fast. I didn’t think he even knew what I wrote, and searching the store definitely had nothing to do with providing helpful hints to the townsfolk of Pecan Bayou. “I know, but Rocky asked me to come back and take one more look around. He’s afraid he might have missed something. A good journalist always double-checks his work.”

  Lieutenant Boyle gave me a suspicious nod. “Maybe I should check with your father.”

  “Oh, he knows about it,” I lied. Even though I discouraged lying in my children, I justified it with the knowledge that if we did find something, we would inform the police.

  He hesitated. “Okay. Take a look around, but don’t touch anything. I’m sure you know that. “

  “Thanks,” I said, scurrying in before he could change his mind. Leo followed and gave Boyle an awkward wave as he made his way past him.

  I headed to a backroom that was divided by a curtain made of fabric printed with buxom women in very skimpy clothing. It reminded me of the mud flaps on big-rig trucks.

  Leo glanced at the curtains and grinned. “That’s an inspiring room divider.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I thought you said you were doing a favor for Vic, not Rocky. I think you need to explain why we’re really here.”

  I surveyed the storeroom. It looked like Mark was a bit of a neat freak. Drawers and shelving containing stock were all labeled. There was a desk pushed against the wall with a clear calendar pad and invoices stacked neatly to the right. The one surprise was a cabinet door that was left open. Had he been about to retrieve something when the killer entered this area?

  “Vic wanted me to look around and maybe see something the police haven’t. Sarah’s terrified the killer is Bunny and that she will come after her next.”

  “Seriously? Did you bring your x-ray vision glasses, or are you just going to use your photographic memory?”

  “I’ll have you know that Vic told me I have a reputation for solving crimes in this town. He also complimented me on my ability to organize and focus on small details. I’m a legend in this town, Leo.”

  “If you say so. I guess I should be proud my wife is considered some kind of super neat, crime-solving wonder.”

  “Well, thank you for that. I was a little surprised he asked me to do this, especially after what just happened with Tyler and Sarah,” I said.

  “Actually, I think the whole incident was pretty innocent. Tyler might have a crush on her, but if she seriously made a pass at him, he’d be terrified. Trust me.”

  “Really? I wish I felt that way. She’s gorgeous. He’s been leading with his hormones for years now. Self-control might be pretty tough in that situation.”

  “You don’t give Tyler enough credit. He has plenty of self-control. He’s not that kid who pushed Zach over at the scout meeting all those years ago, you know. He’s almost a man. I think we can trust him.”

  “I remember that day. Tyler was twice Zach’s size, and I was sure he was going to beat him up.”

  Leo pulled me close. “I remember that day, too. That was the first time I ever laid eyes on you. Nothing’s been the same ever since.” Maybe it was all the dormant testosterone in the air, but suddenly, the back room of Maximum Muscle seemed like a great place to try out our future cruise ship plans. As I kissed Leo, out of the corner of my eye was that open cabinet door. I slid my elbow back and closed it.

  Leo pulled away, “Now? You’re tidying up now?”

  “Wait. Look at that cup.” There was a disposable coffee cup from Earl’s Java on the counter in the back room. I would think a weightlifter would want to stay off caffeine. Scribbled on the front were the words chocolate caramel coconut mocha, the exact same concoction Earl was whipping up for Bosco at the coffee shop.

  “Take a look at that, Leo. Bosco has been back here. Wasn’t that what he ordered at the coffee shop?”

  “How would you know that?” Leo asked.

  “Earl said it—it was the drink he was making for Bosco at the coffee shop. I guess it stuck with me because it’s an unusual drink.”

  “Do you believe Bosco could have come back here to kill Mark and then left his coffee cup? I think if I were going to kill somebody, I would clean up after myself.” I loved that Leo said that. Maybe some of my tidying up was rubbing off on him.

  “I need to tell Dad about that.” In the corner, I noticed a box of plastic water bottles Mark must’ve been saving to recycle. Just like me and an open cabinet that needed closing, if Bunny had been here, I had a hard time believing she would pass up this giant box of recyclables. Her mantra to save the planet was more than just words. It was her religion. She wouldn’t be content leaving a large box of recyclables sitting here. Whether or not this desire would take precedence while murdering Mark Valencia was another thing. Bunny was a driven woman, and I was almost sure she would have picked up that box on her way out.

  “Do you see anything else?” Leo asked.

  “Nope.” I walked to the computer on Mark’s desk and after wiggling the mouse saw that the accounting software had been left on. The login page waited for the proper cue to start the program, with the last message being an incorrect password. Someone had been trying to log in but had failed. Had Mark forgotten his password, or had this been Bosco looking for a record of the transactions? Mark’s personal calendar was nested under that. Using the theories of Marie Kondo, I would think too many open programs are just like a person who can’t close a cupboard door.

  Leo continued to search behind me. “I don’t know if you should be touching that computer.”

  “I think it will be okay.” Closing the apps, I shut down the computer. I joined Leo searching the room for another minute when Lieutenant Boyle popped his head through the curtain.

  “You two have been back here long enough. Have you seen everything you wanted to see? “

  “I guess so. Is there a list of things from this room considered evidence in the murder?”

  “It’s down at the station now. I do have a few things here. Just in case you were looking for it, the answer is yes, they did find a supply of steroids.” He showed me the clipboard he had been carrying. I looked through the list, but there was no mention of women’s possessions. “I still find it hard to believe that Mr. Valencia thought that there would be a market for this stuff in this town. He was actually selling steroids?”

  “Well, I guess Pecan Bayou has to keep up with the times.”

  When we came out of the shop and headed toward the town square, Josiah and Prim were sitting on one of the lovely park benches the town council had provided. The plan was to try and encourage the small number of tourists we were blessed with each year. Fredericksburg got the bulk of the spring wildflower visitors, while Pecan Bayou was just another town along the way. Howard Gunther had suggested at several town council meetings that we should get an attraction like the world’s largest ball of string.

  “People will drive for miles to see that sort of thing. Just think of Ripley’s Believe it or Not. Half that stuff is fake anyway.” He was solidly voted down. Howard was still at a loss for respect after he tried to get the town listed in America’s most haunted places because of our highly-spirited abandoned tuberculosis hospital. Our town’s leaders wanted tourists to come to Pecan Bayou, but they wanted them to visit for the live people and amenities, not the dead ones.

  Rocky Whitson was in conversation with Prim and looked happy to see me when we approached. Josiah was taking a quick nap, a little snore escaping his lips.

  “It’s not good to be sitting out in this heat,” Leo said, speaking in his official weatherman v
oice.

  Prim crossed her arms, giving her husband a frustrated look. “Try telling that to Mr. I-know-it-all here. He was afraid if we went inside somewhere, we might miss watching other teams who seem to be ahead of us.”

  “How many clues do you have?” I asked. There was a stack of yellow clue papers in Josiah’s hand.

  “We’re up to the three sisters, but for the life of me I can’t figure out what that’s all about.”

  Prim shook her head while Rocky appeared to hold back a giggle. “One of my better ideas,” he said.

  “I don’t think anyone else in town thinks so,” I said, wanting to quash Rocky’s enthusiasm for his own deviousness.

  “Uh-huh.” That was it. Rocky wasn’t talking even if I did insult him.

  Leo removed his ball cap and then readjusted it. “We just ran into Bosco and Earl at the coffee shop. I think they’re ahead of all of us. I’m not even sure how many clues they’ve figured out, but Bosco had them spread out on a table. We can’t let someone who doesn’t even live here win this thing. It just wouldn’t be right.”

  Prim grimaced. “That man. I’ve been going to Earl’s Java for years, and if I had known he had a brother like Bosco, I’d have switched to drinking tea.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “I worry for Earl. I think a lot of people are choosing not to stop in because of Bosco.”

  Josiah opened one eye. “What’s that you say? Bosco Brown has more clues than we do? That can’t be. I’ve spent the last six months analyzing every aspect of this race. What has Bosco done but sit in prison?”

  I hated to tell Josiah but sitting behind bars could also give a man time to think.

  Prim patted her husband on the arm. “Calm down, Josiah. You know your blood pressure can act up in the heat like this.”

  Josiah pressed his lips together. “Yes, dear. I’ll be careful.”

  Leo pointed to a red cooler that had been set up on the steps of the old white gazebo. “Why don’t you go get yourself a bottle of water at the gazebo?” There was a cautionary sign written on poster board placed in front of it.

  For the Treasure Hunters

  AND NO ONE ELSE

  I recognized the personal touch of Mayor Obermeyer, who would never provide free water to the general public and was always clear in expressing his opinions. He probably had to be coerced to provide this amenity. His theory was that if you were going to hunt for treasure, come prepared and do not depend on government largesse to provide water.

  Prim grabbed her husband’s pudgy hand. “Sounds like a grand idea.” As she started to pull him off the bench toward the gazebo, but Josiah pulled in the other direction.

  “How about a cup of coffee at Earl’s instead?” With the temperature in the high nineties and a generous portion of humidity blanketing us, coffee sounded like a terrible idea to me.

  “In this heat? You must be crazy.” As Prim started to protest more, a smile played at her lips. “Oh, I get it. You want to see if you can read over Bosco’s shoulder and get a free clue, right? We’d be doing exactly what Earl and Bosco did to Rocky when he wrote up the clues.”

  He winked at Prim and made a clicking sound with his mouth. “That’s my girl.”

  Rocky pitched his head back slightly in surprise. “They were looking over my shoulder? I should have known ‘free refill’ in Pecan Bayou is never really free.”

  “At least you know they didn’t see everything, or they would have found the golden pecan by now,” Prim said in a comforting voice.

  Josiah offered his arm to his wife. “So, we’re off to get coffee and clues.”

  “Fine, but first I need something cold. Let’s get some water and then make our way over,” Prim said.

  “I think I’ll join,” Rocky said. “Now that I know they were attempting to cheat, I want to see what Bosco’s up to.”

  “Just one more thing before you go, Prim. Do you know anything about Bosco Brown’s criminal record?” I asked.

  Rocky gave me an appreciative look, and he reached into the pocket of his shirt for his reporter’s pad.

  Prim dabbed at a bead of sweat on her temple. “I believe he was in the pen for an armed robbery over in Round Rock. Something he did several years ago. He served his time. It doesn’t mean he hasn’t been a suspect in lots of things around here, starting with shady dealings that center around Mark Valencia. I suppose now that poor Mr. Valencia has been murdered, it will be easier to prove these connections. I’ll tell you what, if Bosco is behind that man’s murder, your daddy will nail him for it.”

  It was becoming evident that Bosco was our man, and if we connected the drink cup we saw in the Maximum Muscle backroom, we could firmly place him at the murder scene.

  “Do you know where he was at the time of the murder?” I asked.

  Prim gave a knowing nod. “At the time of the murder, Earl said he was setting up a team of temporary workers in the coffee shop. Bosco said he couldn’t remember. At least that’s what he told your father. No witnesses, of course.”

  “That’s pretty weak. So, Bosco doesn’t have an alibi, then.” Once more, Bosco was riding the top of my suspect list. This would put Bunny in the clear even if she was wielding a shotgun at anyone who graced her front porch. How had the Thatchers fared with her?

  “How did you do over at Bunny’s house?” I asked.

  Josiah, looking to be suffering in the heat, pulled a white cotton handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his brow. “We got out of there just in time. That woman is crazy. Thought she was going to kill us.”

  Before Josiah could catch a breath to keep talking, Prim continued the story. “Judd got over there and took her gun away, thank God. Bless her heart. She isn’t the same after what happened to her sweet sister, although I must say it was kind of strange with her out in the middle of the night like that—”

  “But to jump off that bridge and hit her head the way she did. Very sad,” Josiah said, finishing his wife’s sentence. “I bet you haven’t heard all the rumors.”

  “I don’t know if you should share that, Josiah,” Prim said, suddenly pulling out of their shared track of communication. Josiah continued.

  “I heard she was having a romantic tryst,” he said, undeterred by his wife’s nudging.

  As if we were on a ship listing with the sea, Leo and I leaned in the direction of Mr. Thatcher. “Who with?” I asked, trying to remember Bunny’s sister being romantic with anybody. She was what my aunt would have labeled as plain. Pale skin, no mascara, hair that had never seen a curling iron. That being said, she was a kind, lovely person who always greeted people on the street. It was news to me that Poppy Donaldson may have had a romantic rendezvous in the middle of the night.

  Josiah Thatcher leaned back, his eyes checking out the action on the street. “I heard it from Lester Jibbets, who heard it from Glory McGiver after Pastor Green got on to Delta Haney for talking about it at the quilt group. So, you know it’s pretty solid. You’re not going to believe this, but…” He lowered his voice. “Some say it was Sarah Butler.”

  “Are you kidding me? Sarah and Poppy? An item?” Rocky asked.

  “No.” I was shocked. I sure didn’t see that one coming. Sarah was a lonely woman, but I never suspected she and Poppy were an item.

  “Come on,” Leo said. My husband had a tendency to take gossip with a grain of salt.

  “I know. It sounds outrageous,” Mr. Thatcher said, “But the word is Sarah was walking around that night and met Poppy at the bridge. At least that was the direction that some people at Goin’ Nuts saw her walking.”

  “Josiah, stop,” Prim admonished. “It’s just gossip. There’s no evidence those two women were romantically involved. And what would it matter if they were a couple?”

  He sighed and put his hanky in his pocket. “You’re right, dear.”

  “In the dispatch office, I listen to people for a living. There’s a lot more gossip than actual information going around. Maybe you should keep that to yourself
,” Prim scolded.

  Josiah turned to Rocky, a purveyor of all things gossipy. “I could, but it’s all over town. The nuts of Pecan Bayou can’t stop talking about it.”

  Chapter 13

  As the Thatchers made their way over to get water at the gazebo, Rocky tipped his ball cap. “I’d love to stay with you all day, but I need to check up on Bosco, and I have a first-class murder to write about. You haven’t heard anything new, have you?”

  I lifted my chin and smiled. “Nothing. Well, nothing I want to share for publication.” I didn’t want to reveal the many personal things I was learning about Sarah Butler, because Rocky could be a gentleman up to the point of WWED—What Would The Enquirer Do? I chose to keep it to myself.

  Rocky gave me a look. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you hot on the trail of some sort of clue that doesn’t involve reorganizing your closet?”

  “Of course not, but have a heart, Rocky. When someone gets murdered, it’s murder, not just the next above-the-fold headline, you know? I’m trying to figure it out like everyone else.”

  Rocky placed a hand on his chin and observed me for a moment. “Uh-huh.” His phone beeped, and glancing at the screen, he said, “Nicholas wants me to call. Something about a missing person. We’ll talk about this later.”

  With the heat closing in around us, Leo and I took the Thatchers’ place on the bench. My thoughts drifted to Sarah. I hoped Vic would find her. For someone so put together on the outside, she was a mess on the inside. If we had x-ray vision enabling us to see what was really going on with people, I doubt we would ever leave the house. I tried to shift my focus back to the contest. “I can’t believe Bosco has figured out the three-sisters clue. He doesn’t even live in this town. How could a big brute like that have the shrewdness for strategy?”

  Leo ran his hand through his damp hair, replaced his ball cap and leaned back on the bench. “Maybe the fact that he doesn’t live here gives him the advantage.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, you and I based our deductions on what we know of the town’s history. What if we didn’t know who lived here? What if we had to rely on only what was presented before us? A man who’s been in prison would have situational awareness, right?”