The Woodpecker Always Pecks Twice

by J. R. Ripley

  I slid toward the end of the booth toward her. “Moire, if I could just—”

  Her hand sliced the air between us. “We’re done here, Amy.”

  “But, Moire, if I could only—”

  “In fact,” interjected Moire, refusing to let me finish a sentence or a thought, “I think it would be best if you didn’t come back.”

  I felt as if every eye in the diner was on me now. I dropped the ragged paper napkin on the table, grabbed my purse from the booth bench, and scooted out past Moire. Her face livid, she shook her head at me in disgust, then stomped off to the kitchen.

  Hanging my head, I made a beeline for the door like a scolded dog with its tail between its legs.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder. “We need to talk,” Lana told me.

  Through the window between the kitchen and counter, Moire glared in my direction.

  “Now is not a good time,” I said, feeling defeated and humiliated. “No doubt you heard all that.”

  Lana smiled grimly. “I heard. How about later?”

  “Sure,” I said, though I couldn’t imagine what the woman and I had to talk about. “Where do you live? Maybe I can stop by after work.” Was she living with Gus? Had she been the woman I’d seen looking out the attic window of the McKutcheon house the night I’d gone for dinner? If so, why had she stayed out of sight the entire time I was there?

  Lana was shaking her head even as I spoke. “No, not my place. I get off shift in a couple of hours. I’ll stop by.”

  Moire’s burning eyes hadn’t left me and I was only half listening. “Sure, whatever.” I waved weakly and stumbled outside. Unsure what to do next.

  The squeal of brakes startled me and I looked up. The bus had pulled up at the curbside. Passengers spilled out while others waited to climb aboard.

  Glancing through the big front windshield, I recognized Neal the bus driver, his blue-gray cap atop his curly dark hair. I squeezed past the now boarding passengers. “Hi, Neal. Amy Simms, remember me?”

  “Birds and Bees, across the street. Sure,” he replied, his voice neutral.

  A woman’s elbow jostled me. “Ouch.” Right in the ribs. I squeezed closer to the driver. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve got a schedule to keep.” He motioned with his chin toward his waiting passengers. “Are you in or out?”

  “In,” I said, making up my mind quickly. If riding the bus was the only way I’d get to talk to him, then the fare was a small price to pay. I threw a couple of dollars into the acrylic money box beside him. Every seat was taken but that was okay by me. I wanted to stick as close to Neal as possible.

  He levered the doors shut and told everyone who wasn’t seated to hang on. That included me. I grabbed the chrome overhead bar and held tight as he eased into traffic.

  We chugged along a bit, then came to a stop at a red light. While we idled, I said, “I was hoping I’d run into you again.”

  “Oh, yeah?” replied Neal, without taking his eyes off the traffic signal. “What for?”

  The light changed and I about fell over as we lurched forward. I adjusted my footing. “You remember Bessie Hammond?”

  “Dead lady,” he replied. “What about her?”

  “Do you remember, the morning she rode your bus, did she have a camera with her?” I went on to describe the camera as best I could.

  “Hmm.” He removed his left hand from the big steering wheel and idly rubbed his paunch. “I remember the binoculars. You don’t see a whole lot of riders with binoculars. Cameras, yes. Especially in tourist season.” He pulled his eyes from the road a moment and glanced my way. “Can’t say as I remember any camera though.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked as we pulled to a stop at the edge of the town square.

  “Town square!” Neal shouted. “Food, shopping, and bureaucrats!” Besides the surrounding shops, in the center of town square sits Ruby Lake’s government offices and courthouse.

  The front and rear doors of the bus hissed opened and many folks took off. A few others climbed on.

  “Are you sure Bessie didn’t have a camera?” I asked again.

  “No, I’m not sure at all,” the driver replied, his hand clutching the mechanism that opened and closed the bus’s doors. “Are you in or are you out?”

  I didn’t know what to say next. I couldn’t blame him for not being sure. Like Neal said, plenty of people walked around with cameras, particularly during the tourist months. Chasing Bessie’s camera had come to a dead end.

  “Well?” Neal demanded.

  “I’m out. Thanks for the ride.” I stepped down into the late afternoon heat. I was miles from Birds & Bees and light-years from figuring out who’d killed Bessie Hammond and why.

  21

  Walking up Main Street, I glanced in the window of the Italian Kitchen and spotted Annika and Dominik, two of Gus McKutcheon’s guests, seated at a table near the front. The pair were having a heated conversation. They didn’t appear to have noticed me. I wondered what they were so upset about. There was only one way to find out.

  Though I had little appetite, I stepped into the restaurant and asked for a table for one. There were two small tables near the young couple and I wanted to get as close as I possibly could. At my whispered request, the hostess seated me nearby. I hoped they didn’t spot me or recognize me if they did.

  I took a seat at the table with my back to Annika and Dominik and perused the menu. The Italian Kitchen is a small, casual restaurant serving up mouthwatering, if carb- and calorie-filled, pasta dishes. I ordered the spaghetti marinara and a glass of ice water.

  Unfortunately, Annika and Dominik seemed to be speaking in German or something similarly unfamiliar to me. It didn’t look like I’d be getting anything out of this except another thousand calories that I most definitely did not need. I sipped my water, listening to the incessant babble. Whatever they were discussing, it was Annika who was doing most of the talking, and she didn’t sound happy. In fact, it sounded like she was admonishing her boyfriend, beating him up pretty good, in fact.

  “Amy!”

  I looked up. Tiffany LaChance was beaming at me. “Hello, Tiffany.” I waved to an empty seat. “Join me?”

  “Sorry.” Tiffany shook out her blond hair. She wore a soft pink jumper with silver stitching. “I’m here with Aaron.” She suddenly appeared stricken. “I’m sorry. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “Of course not. Not at all.” Aaron Maddley and I had sort of dated, and only briefly. And even that had been sort of pretend, as I had been using him to help me get some information involving another murder. I had then pretty much accused him and his sister of that murder and our relationship had been icy ever since. I now noticed Aaron, seated alone at a booth in the back corner.

  “Thanks. I wouldn’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

  “Like I said, no problem. I wish you both the very best. Speaking of which, I suppose you heard about the breakup?” Kim and Tiffany had become close friends, so I wouldn’t have been surprised that Kim had filled her in on her fresh breakup with Randy.

  Tiffany nodded. “I saw the dress. I’m so sorry.” She clasped my hand in hers.

  “Dress?”

  “Uh-huh. The wedding dress. It really is beautiful.” She patted my arm. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t be saying that.”

  I leaned back in my chair and narrowed my eyes up at her. “What exactly are you saying, Tiff?”

  Tiffany swallowed, then said, “I was working at the diner earlier when Derek came in and had lunch with Amy, the other Amy, that is. And his daughter.” Words continued spilling out of her mouth as I gaped at her. “Amy had the most amazing wedding gown. Her friend brought it right into Ruby’s Diner. I was so afraid I might spill something on it. Could you imagine if I spilled coffee on a brand-new wedding gown?” I eyeballed her as she prattled on. “But Amy was so happy. She said not to worry because it was covered in one of those cle
ar plastic dress bags.”

  “Huh.” I felt a numbness spreading through me. A wedding dress? Amy the Ex? Happy? Those three things, certainly those last two, didn’t normally go together.

  “Amy, the other Amy, said Maeve was getting a dress made, too.”

  “How-how nice,” I stammered. Maeve was Derek and Amy the Ex’s young daughter.

  “Well, I’ve got to get back to Aaron. I don’t want him thinking I’m ignoring him.”

  “No, we wouldn’t want that.”

  Tiffany catwalked her way back to her spot across from Aaron Maddley. I couldn’t blame her for the slinky walk; the woman was built for it. She couldn’t help herself.

  My waiter deposited a huge bowl of spaghetti covered in tomato sauce. Enough to feed a horse. Unfortunately, I felt like I’d just been kicked in the gut by one.

  The waiter grated some fresh parmesan on top of my pasta until I motioned for him to stop, then departed. I turned my attention to Annika and Dominik, hoping they’d get to speaking English for a change. I listened a moment but didn’t hear a sound. I twisted slowly in my chair. They were gone.

  I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to polish off my meal and a tiramisu for dessert. Some say misery loves company, but I think maybe misery loves calories.

  Back on the street, I turned in the direction of Harlan and Harlan. I considered going by and saying hello. But I also considered that I might be making a fool of myself, what with the whole Amy the Ex and her wedding dress thing going on.

  My cell phone rang and I looked at the screen. It was my mother.

  “I just got off the phone with Anita, who just got off the phone with Jerry Kennedy.”

  “Oh?” I replied, worried. Anything having to do with the chief of police could not be good news, at least for me. “What’s up?” As I listened, I saw Amy the Ex walking out of the law offices of Harlan and Harlan, hand in hand with her daughter, Maeve. The two smiled and waved at a person unseen inside, then started my way.

  I’d dodged a social bullet.

  “He’s found your van,” continued Mom. “Isn’t that wonderful?!”

  I said it was. I tucked my head, turned and pressed my nose to a boutique’s display window to keep from being spotted by the two of them.

  “Is it all right?” I only hoped the van was in one piece and drivable. I knew “good as new” was too much to hope for. The Kia hadn’t been “good as new” for as long as I’d been driving it. Nonetheless, hopefully it hadn’t been trashed. Maybe whoever had stolen it had decided that the old wreck was too embarrassing to be seen in and brought it back.

  “He wants you to go down to the station right away.”

  Maeve and Derek’s ex passed by me on the sidewalk without incident.

  I promised I’d go straight there after getting Mom’s assurances that everything was under control at Birds & Bees. As I waited, I moved under the awning of a perfume shop to get out of the sun. The bus arrived fifteen minutes later but with an unfamiliar driver. “Does this bus go to the police station?” I asked, climbing aboard.

  “This bus goes everywhere, lady,” replied the hefty driver, running a hand through a curly black beard. “Are you in or are you out?”

  Apparently the Town of Ruby Lake cut all their bus drivers from the same cloth. I threw a couple of bucks in the box. “I’m in.” The truth was, I was probably in over my head.

  * * *

  Inside the police station, I found Officer Sutton seated at his desk while Officer Reynolds handed a paper cup filled with coffee to a distraught-looking woman with a short brown bob, seated by the door. She’d been biting her nails.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly, setting her oversized purse on the floor. She’d clearly been crying.

  A redheaded man was seated in a visitor’s chair across from Chief Kennedy’s desk. I couldn’t tell who he was because his back was to me.

  “Chief will be with you in a minute, Miss Simms,” Officer Reynolds said. “You want a coffee?”

  I declined—I’d had their coffee and it was worse than mine—and took a chair next to the woman. “How’s my van?”

  Reynolds smiled enigmatically. “Talk to the chief.”

  Sutton’s desk was directly in front of me. I avoided looking at him for fear he’d somehow figure out that I had been in Bessie Hammond’s house when he’d been there.

  A couple of minutes passed in silence and I’d about dozed off when the man at Jerry’s desk stood and the two came to the front of the station. The stranger was a head taller than Jerry, who was a couple inches shy of the six-foot mark.

  The woman beside me, who so far hadn’t uttered a word, stood also. “Well?” she asked, her voice nasally.

  “We’ll do all we can, Mrs. Garfinkle,” Jerry said, patting her shoulder paternally.

  “Thanks, Chief,” the young man said. He wore cargo shorts and a black football jersey. Up close, I saw that his face was badly sunburned. Was that the explanation for the aloe odor emanating from his direction? “If you hear anything at all about JJ, we’ll be staying out at the Bellewood B&B for a few more days.”

  “I’ve got your number,” Jerry replied. “In the meantime, I wouldn’t be worrying too much. I’m sure he’ll turn up sooner or later. Some folks get impetuous when they are on holiday.”

  I stared at Jerry in surprise.

  The woman crooked her arm in her husband’s and they left.

  “Impetuous?” I said with a smirk. “I didn’t think you even knew the word.” Jerry hadn’t been the brightest student in school. “What was that all about?”

  “Some fella and his wife looking for his brother. They were supposed to meet up here in town.” The chief planted his hands, one on his hip, the other on his holstered pistol. “What do you want?”

  “My van.”

  A dangerous smile appeared on Jerry’s face. “Oh, yeah.” He was beaming now. “The stolen van. Have a seat.” He extended his hand toward his desk in the rear. He and Officers Sutton and Reynolds exchanged looks and I followed with a growing sense of unease.

  “What’s that smell?” sniffed Officer Sutton as I scooted past his desk.

  I craned my neck. “What smell?”

  Sutton tilted up his nose and sniffed the air. “I don’t know.” Sniff. Sniff. “Smells familiar though. Smells like—” Sniff. Sniff. “Daisies.”

  “Simms!” shouted Chief Kennedy.

  As I hurried to Kennedy’s desk, I braved a whiff of my underarm. Good grief. That was my daisy-fresh deodorant Sutton was smelling. He must have caught the scent when I was hiding in Bessie’s shower. I only hoped he didn’t put two and two together and remembered where he’d last smelled that particular scent.

  If he did, I just might be pushing up daisies.

  I sat and crossed my legs and waited while Jerry made a show of fiddling with some papers on his desk. Probably his lame attempt at creating drama and raising the tension.

  I uncrossed and crossed my legs a couple more times. His lame attempt was working.

  Jerry leaned back in his seat and laced his fingers behind his head. “So, you had your van stolen. What happened, Amy? You leave the keys in the vehicle? Because that would be dumb, Simms. Dumb, dumb, dumb.” He shook his head with each word, the stupid grin never leaving his face.

  “Cut it out, Jerry,” I snapped. I was angry and embarrassed. The anger was directed at myself for leaving the keys in the ignition and putting myself in the position I was in now—a position in which I was made to look stupid and Jerry Kennedy was getting the better of me. “You know darn well I left the keys in the van.” I folded my arms over my chest and glared at him. “I was in a hurry. I simply forgot them.”

  “In a hurry, huh?” Jerry tilted forward. He picked up a ballpoint pen and aimed it at me. “To do what exactly?”

  “What? What do you mean to do what?” I shook my head, flustered. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. What does it matter? You got it back. How about letting me have the keys so I ca
n get out of here?”

  Jerry rolled the blue pen around between his palms. “How about telling me what you and your van were doing on Peace Street?”

  I blushed.

  “Only one block over from Ivy.” He looked at me like he was studying a curious specimen with six legs under a microscope. “Funny coincidence that.”

  I pressed my tongue into my teeth.

  “Did you know Bessie Hammond lived on Ivy? In fact, she lived in the house directly behind the house where your van was stolen from.”

  I felt my neck stiffen. It was as if Jerry was tightening a noose around my throat. “Is that so?” I managed to say.

  He nodded. “That’s so. Do you want to tell me what the heck you were doing out there, Simms?”

  I cleared my throat. Just my luck, some thug steals my van and I end up in trouble. “If you must know—”

  Jerry glared at me. “I must.”

  Officer Sutton chuckled in the background. I turned and gave him the stink eye.

  “Sorry,” Sutton said. “Got a funny text on my phone.” He held up his cell phone as evidence. I didn’t believe him for a second.

  “If you must know,” I began again, returning my attention to Jerry. “I was looking at a house.”

  “Yeah,” quipped Jerry. “The question is: whose house?”

  “A house that was for sale. You can check it out yourself, if you don’t believe me. I was parked, perfectly legally,” I added, feeling my confidence rising, “on Pea Street—”

  “Peace Street,” corrected Jerry, clearly amused.

  “That’s right, Peace Street, to look at a house that is currently for sale.”

  “You’ve got a house. Or rather an apartment in a house,” Jerry said.

  “It’s for a friend.”

  “What friend, Simms?”

  I wriggled. “Kim, if you must know.”