by Tonya Kappes
“Did you give Audrey a job?” I asked, knowing Mama had been wanting to get out of the kitchen a little more. But when one owned a restaurant, it was a twenty-four-hour gig. I knew this well, because I had worked in the diner since I could walk.
“Thinking on it.” She grabbed my empty plate.
“Thank you, that was good.” I took another drink of my coffee and wiped my mouth. I picked up the now-much-lighter mailbag and stood up, tossing it over my shoulder. “I know you hear a lot of gossip, so let me know if you hear anything.”
“As long as you don’t do anything to get you in trouble.” She gave me the Mom look, which proved one was never too old to get the Mom look.
“I won’t.” I gave her a hug. “I’ll see you and Dad tomorrow night for supper,” I reminded her before I headed to the General Store to get Vince’s burner phone from Gill.
“Mornin’!” Gill lifted his head from the morning paper on the counter. “I got some mail for ya.” Gill was a good ol’ boy who wore overalls and boots. He was about my parents’ age.
“I’ve got some for you too.” I weaved in and out of the standing displays. “And I need one of those phones you add minutes to.”
“Ahhh…” He lifted a brow. “Anyone I know?”
“Huh?”
“Most people come in here to get these phones to disguise who they are talking to.” He reached behind him and took a phone off the hook before he rang it up.
I wasn’t about to tell him it was for Vince and some FBI sleuthing, but I did want to know about the spray paint. “I’m looking for some information on spray paint. Has anyone come in to buy some?”
“Everyone who has a kid at Sugar Creek Gap High. They all came in here and bought all the brown, red, and gold paint to make all those signs for the game. Poor Ashley Williams was a little too late.”
When he laughed, my ears perked up. Ashley Williams was the last person on my suspect list.
“Oh no. What happened?” I questioned, laying it on thick as if I really cared that poor Ashley didn’t get the Grizzly colors. I took out my wallet and handed him the cash for the phone.
“Well, she said she was making some signs for the game, but the only color I had to give her was orange.”
“Did you say she bought orange spray paint?” My gut dropped. Angela had said someone had spray-painted the country club with orange spray paint.
“She bought me out of that color too.” He held the phone out to me. “Said it was the closest color to red we had and it’d be fine for what she was going to do with it.”
“Thanks, Gill.” I bounced on my toes. “You’ve been a big help.”
He muttered something when I hurried out the door, but I didn’t stay to hear it. Ashley Williams had not only spray-painted the country club to make it look like Mac did it, she’d framed him for murder!
FOURTEEN
“And how did Ashley get Mac’s gun?” Angela crossed her arms and let out a deep sigh.
When I left the General Store, I went straight to the sheriff’s department with the news about Ashley buying all the spray paint.
“I don’t know that, but I do know Ashley bought Gill Tillett out of orange spray paint.” I was handing her this information on a platter, but she wasn’t too impressed.
She uncurled her arms and pushed herself off the edge of her desk, grabbing the phone behind her.
“Vita,” Angela said to Vita Dickens, the dispatch operator for the department. “Can you send out a deputy to talk to Ashley Williams and question her about the orange spray paint she bought at the General Store?”
She let out a few ahs, huns, and hms before she hung up the phone. “Happy?” she asked me.
“Yes. Thank you.” I nodded. “I understand Kenneth Simpson has an alibi. What about Dennis Kuntz?”
“Why, Bernadette Butler, if I didn’t have this here badge resting on my chest, I’d’ve thought you were elected sheriff of Sugar Creek Gap.” It was not only apparent in her tone but written all over her face that she didn’t like my line of questioning.
“I’m really just trying to help out Mac.” I thought she’d understand.
“He’s got a lawyer for that. The best thing you can do for him is to be his friend.” She said that as if there was some more evidence against Mac that I didn’t know of. “Thank you for letting us know about the orange spray paint. We will check that out.”
“Did you find any spray paint at Mac’s house?” I asked before she pointed to the door.
My phone rang as I was leaving the department.
“Iris, I think Ashley might be the killer,” I said in a hushed tone as I rushed past a group of reporters in the courthouse as I tried to get to the front door.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“I’m just leaving the courthouse and going to rush to deliver the rest of my route.” I wrapped the scarf more tightly around my neck. The gray clouds had started to take over the day and bring a rush of cold air in with them.
“While I was delivering some pies today, all the talk was about the country club and Chuck. Someone told me they’d heard Ashley had cornered Chuck at Madame’s.” I nearly dropped the phone as she talked. “You come right over to Pie in the Face after your deliveries, and we’ll go have a cocktail at Madame’s.”
Iris didn’t have to say it out loud, but I knew she meant we were going to go see if anyone wanted to tell us anything.
“Yeah. I’ll buy.”
We said our goodbyes, and I headed to the east neighborhoods, where they had mailboxes on the street that made my job a lot easier.
Even though the temperature was getting cooler by the minute, the fast pace I was keeping actually was making me sweat.
“Are you okay?” Vince asked when I stopped by his condo to drop off the phone before meeting Iris.
“I’m fine. You aren’t going to believe everything I found out today.”
He ushered me in.
“Kenneth Simpson was out of town, and Ashley Williams is behind the country club spray-painting job.”
He already knew.
“How?” I asked as I took the phone from my bag.
“I told you I had ways.” He winked and took the phone. “I have a friend who likes to play golf. He lives on the thirteenth tee. I called him up and asked him to send me his Ring Doorbell footage. It showed her perfectly. I sent it to the sheriff, and she asked me if I’d talked to you.”
We laughed.
“Yeah, she gave me a hard time after Gill told me Ashley bought the orange spray paint.” I shook my head.
“I even had my buddy go over to Ashley’s house and look in her garbage cans. Nothing, but…” A big smile crossed Vince’s lips when he hesitated. “He went to the country club dumpster and found all the empty orange cans.”
“That means Mac is cleared.” I brought my hands up to my face. Tears stung my eyes.
“Only on the spray-paint charges.” His news busted my bubble. “Unfortunately, Ashley lawyered up when the deputy brought her in. Some fancy attorney from somewhere else. He won’t even be here until Monday.”
“Are they holding her?” I questioned.
“It seems like they are for twenty-four hours.” He shook his head. “I’m just not sure how she got Mac’s gun.”
That was the million-dollar question.
“For now, I think you need to keep looking into things. I’m still trying to get into the nursing home security system to see what time Dennis Kuntz left Thursday after visiting his mother. I’m a little rusty with all this new technology.” He tapped his temple with his crooked finger. “I’ll get it, though.”
“Iris and I are going to Madame’s, because Iris heard Ashley and Chuck had an argument there. So we are going to go and see if anyone heard them.” I hiked the strap of the empty mailbag up on my shoulder.
“Let me get my coat.” Vince turned around.
“You’re not going,” I told him.
“I told you this morning I’ve
always wanted to get an Uber there, so I’m going.”
He wasn’t about to take no for an answer.
FIFTEEN
“And how did she rope you into this?” Iris was cleaning out the ovens at Pie in the Face, as she did every night before she went home.
Vince was busy shuffling in front of the bakery display case while licking his lips. “Pies, pies, and more pies.” His eyes were glazed over. “These all look so good.”
“I didn’t rope him into anything.” I moved around the counter. “Which one do you want?” I asked Vince.
He lifted his hand and pointed to the silk pie then shook his head and pointed to the lemon Philly pie.
“What if we give you a piece of each and you can take one home?” I smiled when his eyes lit up. “I’ll pay,” I said after I heard Iris give a little harrumph.
“I was the one who exposed Ashley Williams as the one who spray-painted the golf course.” Vince took the plate with the slice of lemon Philly on it and sat down at one of the few café tables in the middle of the bakery. He left out the part about his FBI background and the people he knew.
“Do they think she killed Chuck? Because if they do, we don’t need to go to Madame’s.” Iris made a good point. “Though I could use a drink.” She made another good point, so we all agreed and helped her finish cleaning up.
Well, I helped her clean up. Vince only cleaned his plate. He didn’t leave a single morsel of pie on it.
Madame’s wasn’t the kind of bar I’d ever step foot in. It wasn’t that I was too good for it, but it was a rocker bar with loud jukebox rock-and-roll music. Give me a good old country song or even a pop song to bebop too and I was happy-go-lucky. This rock music and chicks in leather were not what I’d thought Mac was all about, but as I was finding out more and more, Mac was nothing like I’d thought he was.
Not only that, but it was smoky.
“I thought there was no more smoking in bars.” I fanned my hand in front of my face, not only to catch a breath but to part the smoke so I could see.
“What can I get ya?” The burly man behind the bar had on a leather cap, a short-sleeved heavy-metal-band shirt, and a leather vest.
“We’ll have three beers.” I held up three fingers in hopes he was reading lips, because I could barely hear myself think above the blaring screams of the singer much less hear my own voice.
He must’ve understood me, because he came back with three bottles of beer, though I’d never said which kind. We didn’t care. I played with a book of matches while the three of us sat there like bumps on a log.
“I’ve not seen a book of matches in years.” Iris took one of the packs and slipped it into her purse.
“Me either.” I looked at the logo of Madame’s and ran my finger across it.
“So, why are you really here?” The bartender slung a couple of shots back while he waited for the three of us to answer. “It’s not every day we see two middle-aged women and an old man come in here. We have regulars.”
“We are looking for some answers.” Iris was beating around the bush.
“Specifically this guy.” I took my phone out and showed him a photo of Mac and Grady. “The guy on the right.”
“Yeah. He was in here a few nights ago. What about him?” he asked.
“I’m a good friend of his and …”
“I’m not ratting the guy out if that’s what you wanted to know.” He waved his hands in front of him before he took the wet towel and wiped down the bar top.
“No. In fact, he’s being accused of murder, and we’re trying to find other suspects to help clear him.”
I wasn’t sure if he believed me.
“And we want to know if you saw this guy.” Vince pulled out a newspaper clipping with Chuck’s photo.
Iris and I looked at him, both thinking it was odd he’d brought a newspaper clipping.
“I’m old-school. Remember?” He laughed and set the piece of newspaper on the bar. “This is the guy Mac Tabor is accused of killing, and we think it was the girl with him that did it.”
“Dude.” The bartender nodded. “I saw this on the TV. I was wondering how I recognized his face. When you put both of their photos together, I remember.” He continued to nod. “Yeah. They sat right over there.” He pointed to the far end of the bar. “This lady with brown hair to here. Loud.” He’d described Ashley to a T. “Yeah. Her and that guy got into a fight. They ended up leaving together.”
“What about him?” I asked and showed him my phone again with Mac’s photo.
“He left in an Uber way before them. He was smashed drunk.” The bartender laughed. “I had to quit serving him. Dude was off the charts.”
“Looks like we have some eyewitnesses here that say Ashley left with Chuck.”
It was a great lead, and if the hour weren’t so late, I would have called the department and had them come up here to talk to the bartender, but I figured Ashley was already in custody for twenty-four hours.
“Would you be willing to identify them to the Sugar Creek Gap sheriff?”
Vince took the whole sleuthing thing to a whole new level. I sat there in awe as he worked the young man into exactly what he wanted to.
By the time we’d finished our beers, Vince had gotten the guy to agree to meet him down at the department tomorrow afternoon after the bartender woke up.
“That was amazing.” I gasped for air after we walked out.
“It was a cool place.”
Iris was off her rocker.
“No, I meant how Vince handled that guy back there.” I rolled my eyes and got into Iris’s passenger seat in the back, giving the front to Vince.
“Just years of shaking people down.” Vince took pride in his former profession.
“Let’s see what we’ve come up with.” I pulled my phone out and started to go back through my notes. “We can cross Kenneth Simpson off the list because he’s got a solid alibi, being out of town on an interview, along with Tim Crouse’s statement.”
I used the back button to erase Kenneth from my notes.
“Poor Mac. I still can’t explain how someone got his gun unless Ashley slipped in there.” I frowned when I realized I couldn’t technically take him off the list, but even deeper was the hurt that I truly felt that I didn’t know the real Mac Tabor.
“Dennis Kuntz?” I questioned Vince.
“Yep. I got the footage. I even went to the night-shift nurses’ station to ask to make sure I was right.” Vince turned his chin slightly to the left as he spoke so I could hear him. “He fell asleep at his mom’s on Thursday night, and when he woke up, it was too late to go home, so he stayed there. Video cameras show it, so he’s off the list.”
“That leaves Ashley Williams, who has motive because she lives in the neighborhood and wants the best for her daughter. I’d kill for Grady.” It was a sad but true statement. A mother’s love would go up against practically anything. “And if that wasn’t enough, she tried to set Mac up for the spray-painting, she verbally threatened him in public, and she was seen leaving with Chuck right before he was murdered.”
“Leading him back to Little Creek Road so it looked like Mac did it.” Iris smacked the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. “If Mac was as hammered as the bartender said, do you think Ashley could’ve gone in his house and taken the gun?”
“She shot Chuck on the bridge. He fell over and then she tossed the gun in the bushes after she cleaned it off.” Vince finished up the theory.
I typed away in my notes under her name.
“All of this could be possible.” I nodded. “I’ll send these notes to your phone in a text so you can give them to Angela.”
“You don’t want to meet us down there?” Vince asked.
Iris was pulling up to his condo.
“I’ve got a full day off work, and I plan to clean and cook for my family,” I told him before he got out. “But let me know what happens.”
“Oh, I will.” He bent down into the car. “
You know what, I hate how someone died, but I have to say that I’ve had a lot of fun dipping my toe back into the investigation work.”
“I hope all this work is to help Mac out and not hurt him worse.” I couldn’t help but think all the snooping we’d done here and there was for nothing.
SIXTEEN
I wasn’t sure if it was the relief I felt after the bartender had identified Ashley not only arguing with Chuck but leaving the bar with him that I had a sense of peace that all was going to be good for Mac. But the last thing I remembered was snuggling Rowena on the couch with my phone in hand so I could call Mac to tell him what we had found out.
It wasn’t until Rowena had practically smacked me awake to feed her that I realized it was morning.
Instead of calling and giving Mac the good news, I simply included him in the family text that I was going to be cooking our favorite shrimp-and-sausage gumbo for supper and to be here by five p.m.
With a few cups of coffee down me and a nice hot shower, I ran to the grocery store and picked up the hot sausage, shrimp, crushed tomatoes, tomato sauce, onions, okra, and frozen vegetables along with a couple of bags of rice. Of course, I had to make my famous cheesecake-stuffed pumpkin bread, too. It was Mac’s favorite, and I was seeing our supper as a little celebration of his not being a murder suspect.
I’d leave all the questions I had about his relationship with Tasha for another day. Today was a time to celebrate, because according to Vince’s burner-phone text message, he and the bartender were on their way to the sheriff’s department.
I pulled the truck into my driveway and pulled a little too hard on the paper bag, ripping the bottom out of it. I reached down to the floorboard and grabbed my empty mailbag and threw the groceries in it, carefully balancing the other paper sacks so it didn’t tear apart.
“Hello, Rowena,” I greeted my little girl, practically tripping over her as she rubbed against me. “Let me get these groceries put away, and we will play.”