Final Roasting Place

by Devon Delaney

  Amber called out from the other room, “Where does someone even begin to dream up that recipe?”

  Sherry shook her head. “Anyway, my gut feeling is Brett Paladin showed less animosity toward Carmell than some of the others. And he had some right to be angry, if indeed he got booted from top billing. He did blurt out that the police should have arrested Steele on the spot that morning, but I’m chalking that up to the chaos of the moment. The two of them seemed on fine terms when I picked up my trophy.”

  Amber leaned forward and presented a ball of green yarn through the doorway opening. “This is gorgeous.”

  “I know. Romaine-lettuce green. What was your impression of Damien Castle?”

  Amber’s legs uncrossed, waggled around, and crossed again. A ball of yarn came tumbling off Amber’s lap, and Bean took off to retrieve the rolling sheep fibers.

  “Well, what do you know? Maybe Bean can teach old Chutney new tricks.” Sherry followed the perky pup across the room. When Bean sat, she coaxed him to release the yarn from his jaws, with the aid of her best imitation of an enabling mother. “Good boy!”

  “Damien seemed nice.” Amber cocked her head to the side. Her eyes widened. “Striking hair, strong jawline, commanding build.”

  “Glad you think he’s cute, but I mean any suspicions about his involvement in the murder?” Sherry clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “He came on a bit strong, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I didn’t get that impression.” The lilt in Amber’s voice lingered.

  “Steele Dumont’s not a fan of Damien. He all but blamed the instability at the station on him and the special privileges granted to Carmell. If there was enough pressure on Damien to coddle the star of the show while not getting any return on his investment, that could be a definite motive.”

  Amber let out a short hum that dipped in scale. “I don’t think so.”

  “Damien didn’t have much of an alibi. He didn’t provide the name of anyone who saw him outside of the studio. He claims there was a personal emergency he had to attend to and that there was no record of his exit from the building that morning. There’s no real proof he was or wasn’t in proximity to the murder.”

  Amber leaned back out of sight. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, Sherry. Speculating isn’t concrete evidence.” Amber stepped back into sight and set down the canvas she was working with. “I have to use the bathroom.” Amber marched off and shut herself in the bathroom with a slam of the door.

  “Did I put my foot in my mouth? I have to stop doing that.” Sherry eyed Chutney, who was sniffing the drawer that held his treats. “Here you go.” She handed each dog a mini dog biscuit.

  A few minutes later, the bathroom door clicked, and Amber’s soft-soled shoes squeaked as they padded across the floor.

  “I was thinking,” Amber said. “What do you make of Steele Dumont’s possible motives? Seems to me, he’s the one who was pushed around hardest by Carmell, maybe to his breaking point. People are like animals. They can lash out when they’re boxed into a corner.”

  “But his grandmother is one of my favorite people.” Sherry frowned.

  Bean began barking.

  “This is why I could never be a detective. Too much empathy for my fellow man. But you’re right. Steele has multiple reasons to have wanted Carmell gone.”

  A phone rang from under the checkout counter. “Hold that thought.”

  The barking became incessant.

  “What’s the matter, Bean?” Sherry dove for her phone before the call was diverted to voice mail. “I hope it’s Dad.”

  “Hello. May I come in?”

  “You didn’t have to call if you’re right outside the door. This is a place of business. If the ‘Open’ sign is out, come on in.” Sherry ended the call.

  Bean’s bark morphed into a guttural grumble.

  “Seems like Bean sensed someone was lurking outside. And that someone is on his way in.” Sherry smiled.

  “Doesn’t that ringing drive you crazy?” Detective Bease stared up at the reverberating metal bell.

  “We need to know when our customers have arrived.” Sherry took a step toward the man in khakis with a brown tweed blazer and a baby blue oxford shirt peeking out at the collar and cuffs. “There’s your hat.” She pointed at the row of hooks. “Have you ever considered how cliché a hat like that is for someone in your profession?”

  Bean scampered over to the visitor and sniffed his pants so sorely in need of ironing.

  “Who’s this?” Ray extended a hand toward the dog.

  Bean took off in the opposite direction.

  “Our newest family member, Bean. We rescued him, you could say. He was Carmell Gordy’s dog, and his prospects for a smooth transition to a new owner were bleak. He’s getting along peachy with Chutney. Amber’s going to see if she can keep him, depending on her temporary housing situation.”

  “That’s thoughtful of you two.” Ray’s gaze made a slow survey of the store. “Nice stuff. Reminds me, my place could use a little color.”

  Sherry let her gaze roam the length of the detective’s body. She crossed her arms. “Let me guess, it’s all beige?”

  Amber emerged from the back room. “May I show you a particular rug?” She moved over to the display area. “Rich, real-world colors are what make these rugs beautiful. The head of romaine lettuce hooked on this rug was matched exactly to the leafy green’s color.”

  “Next time. Today I’m here for a follow-up interview, if all parties are willing.” The detective glared at Sherry. “When I spoke to your father on the phone this morning, in hopes of finishing our interrupted conversation from the other day, he mentioned that he knew both Carmell Gordy and Brett Paladin before the cook-off. Were you aware of that?”

  Sherry smoothed out a fold in her cotton shirtsleeve. “People know people. No crime in that.” She recoiled at her word choice before beginning a search for another area of fabric to straighten.

  “Okay. Had you met them prior to the cook-off?” Ray’s tone was light, as if he were cajoling a child through a crying spell.

  “Carmell Gordy isn’t from Augustin, otherwise I might have had ample chance to run into her in town. The cook-off was our first introduction. Brett’s from Augustin. He’s a bit older than me, so we wouldn’t have been in school at the same time. He did come to my high school English class to speak once, many, many years ago, but I wouldn’t call that a personal meeting. By the time I met Ruth Gadabee, Brett was using Paladin as his last name professionally, so I never made the stepson-stepmother connection.” Sherry cocked her head toward her shoulder. “Do you think TV personalities come down for breakfast every morning and announce to their family, ‘Good morning, thank you for joining me today. Stayed tuned and we will eat after this brief commercial break.’ I mean, when do they turn themselves off?”

  Ray cleared his throat and swept his shoe back and forth along the floor. “You’re getting a little sidetracked.”

  “Sorry. There’s a lot to think about.”

  “To be clear, what you’re confirming is that you hadn’t met Mr. Paladin up to the time of the cook-off?” the detective asked.

  “That’s right. Been in a classroom with him, but can’t say we actually were introduced. I’ve known of Ruth Gadabee since I started helping out at the store and I familiarized myself with the customer list although when we might have first been introduced, I don’t recall. Does any of that matter?”

  Ray stayed silent for a moment. He bounced his gaze from the elaborate cornice above the window to Sherry. “When I took initial statements from those who were in the TV studio at the time of the murder, more than one person noted that Carmell Gordy and Brett Paladin had heated words with your father right after the conclusion of the cook-off. Anyone can have a spontaneous argument, set off by who knows what, but witnesses say both Carmell and Brett sought out your father, asking for his whereabouts, as if to pursue an ongoing issue. So, makes sense to ask his daughter whether she
had any knowledge of past history with these people, whether it be yours or your father’s.” Ray rested his hand inside his blazer.

  Sherry gave Ray ample time to continue, but there was only the sound of dog paws on the wide plank oak floors. “I don’t have any more to add to what you’re saying or implying.”

  The detective removed his hand from his blazer. “Okay.”

  “My father is close to Brett’s mother and apparently has been for quite some time. I’m trying to wrap my head around their closeness, as a matter of fact. He doesn’t seem to need me outside of work, like he used to, and I’m guessing her presence is the reason why. With respect to any disagreements between Dad and Brett Paladin, I would think Brett would be thrilled to have my father court his stepmother. Why should Brett even care, frankly? It doesn’t sound as if the Paladins and the Gadabees spend holidays together, let alone any other time.”

  Sherry bent over and picked up a leaf that had hitchhiked a ride inside the store on Ray’s shoe. As soon as Sherry lowered her hand to the floor, Chutney and Bean circled around their leashes.

  “I have no idea what any alleged argument could have been about, if it was even an argument,” Sherry added. “As for Carmell Gordy, it shouldn’t surprise you to learn I’ve done some legwork on my own, and, what I’ve discovered is she is, or was, the center of the universe over at News Twelve. When someone gets used to the star treatment, good isn’t good enough. Her demands might have been approaching diva status. But I don’t see how that involves my father.” Sherry visually checked her fingernails one by one before plunging her hands in her pockets.

  “Yes, people at the station mentioned they saw Carmell talking to my father that morning. And yes, maybe the conversation was a bit animated. And yes, the murder weapon was from this store, but there’s a sensible explanation for all that because he didn’t commit a crime. Erno Oliveri has never broken a law in his life, as far as I know. The single black eye on his record is an unpaid parking ticket, which he claims is his way of paying homage to Leila. The ticket was issued the day Leila went to witness her grandchild’s birth and the town had a temp do her job. Dad loves the fact that Leila would never put a ticket on his twelve-year-old Subaru if it was parked in front of the store. So, he’s not going to pay the fine until one or the other of them retires. That’s what he claims.”

  “Leila?”

  “Augustin’s traffic enforcement officer.”

  “I see.” Ray turned his back to Sherry, took two steps, and turned to face her. “If you’re not communicating as much as you used to with your father, isn’t your knowledge of his guilt or innocence mere speculation?”

  Sherry squinted as if vinegar had been splashed in her eyes. Her temples pulsed. “You don’t get it. Dad shouldn’t be bothered right now. He’s a bit fragile. You need to leave him alone.”

  Amber faced Ray. “Detective Bease, Sherry’s dad is the kindest gentleman I have met in a long time. You’re wasting your time if you think he’s involved in any way with a murder, other than being at the wrong place at the wrong time.” She shot a fast glance at Sherry. Amber raised her chin high. “Steele Dumont should be the one you’re investigating, not Erno Oliveri.”

  Ray, again, placed his hand inside his blazer. He pulled out a pen and began flipping it between his thumb and his middle finger. Each time the pen did a somersault, an image on the barrel shell came to life.

  “What’s that?” Sherry grabbed the detective’s wrist, and the pen froze.

  “A buffalo stampede. From the great state of Wyoming,” he said.

  “How many more states until your collection is complete?”

  “Thirteen.”

  Amber tapped the tip of her shoe on the floor. “I’ll be in the back room if you need me.”

  “No, stay.” Sherry’s tone was urgent.

  “Back to business.” Ray cupped the pen between his hands and rolled it back and forth. “Steele Dumont. That’s interesting because he’s the grandson of your father’s girlfriend’s best friend.”

  Sherry’s knees gave way like a meringue that had been prepared by stirring, not folding. “No one said anything about her being my dad’s girlfriend.”

  “When I spoke to your father, he was saying good-bye to a Frances Dumont and a Ruth Gadabee, who were paying him a visit at his home.” Ray removed a pressed paper from inside his coat. He unfolded and studied the sheet. “Your father used the term ‘sweetheart’ for one woman and the name ‘Frances’ for the other.” I heard the women say, ‘see you tomorrow.’ Your father replied, ‘thank goodness tomorrow is a new day and I haven’t made a mess of it yet.’ I transcribed it word for word as he spoke.”

  “I’m not surprised he felt that way,” Sherry huffed. “He’s had a rough couple of days, starting with his trip to the emergency room day before yesterday.”

  Amber checked the clock. “Some could argue you were the reason why he had to go.”

  “Amber, are you proposing Steele Dumont should be a person of interest?” The detective’s voice was as warm and inviting as a fresh buttered roll.

  “Steele Dumont may be a scorned lover.” Amber crossed her arms. “He told us he dated Carmell but their relationship, up until her death, became more about catering to her needs than being a partner. That can be a bitter pill to swallow for a man, or anyone, for that matter. I counseled many couples in my practice where one partner had become the other’s live-in workhorse. By the time the couple decides the imbalance needs adjusting, it’s often too late. Steele wasn’t getting paid. The poor guy was dog sitting during his workday, along with running Carmell’s personal errands, instead of gaining the valuable work experience in television he signed up for. That’s all pretty demeaning.” Amber uncrossed her arms and stepped toward the front door without meeting Sherry’s gaze. “I’m going to walk these guys. I’ll be right back.” Amber hooked the dogs up to their leashes and closed the door behind her.

  “She had a bit of a tone.” Ray tapped his pen on the palm of his hand until ink freckles appeared.

  “She doesn’t like my suggestion that the owner of News Twelve had reasons to want to see Carmell gone.” Sherry handed Ray an antibacterial towelette from a dispenser by the register.

  “Damien Castle? I’m thinking out loud here, but why would he take the life of the person who’s the face of his franchise?” Ray tossed the ink-stained wipe in the trash can. He pointed the pen tip at Sherry. “If Castle’s station was leaking money, the way his colleagues suggest, why did he even hire an expensive personality who he must have known he couldn’t control?” Ray tapped the pen on his forehead.

  Sherry passed him another towelette with her gaze on the new ink stains.

  “But why would any of that bother Amber?” The detective asked.

  “She and Damien kind of clicked on their first meeting. You know how that goes.”

  Ray’s eyebrows rose.

  The jingle announced the return of Amber and the two terriers. “All canine bladders are empty.” She leaned down to unhook the leashes and was knocked down when the front door swung open.

  “I’m so sorry.” Leila set her pad of paper down on the floor as she offered Amber a hand up. “Might not be the best place to do your dog grooming.”

  “No problem. Here you go.” Amber retrieved Leila’s pad of tickets and handed it to her. “I hope you don’t give me a citation for parking myself in a loading zone.”

  “Good one.” Leila adjusted her cap, which had shifted askew when she stood upright. “No tickets this morning. I want to know if the gray sedan outside belongs to anyone in Mr. Oliveri’s store. The meter has expired.”

  The detective peered out the front window. He raised his hand above his head. “Guilty.”

  “Only a soft warning, sir. I would never penalize you for spending your money at the Ruggery. Want you to be aware of the violation.”

  “Thank you, um . . .” Ray moved toward Leila and zeroed in on the name tag on her headgear. “. . . Leila. I was
winding things up here.”

  “No problem, sir. Have a great day.” Leila let herself out.

  “So, that’s the infamous Leila. Your father’s got a lot of people campaigning for his best interests. Lucky guy.” Ray shuffled toward the door, passing the tool collection set out on the counter. He picked up a shiny metal punch tool with the sharp pointed end and the wooden handle.

  “Can I get a quick demonstration of how this works? Doctor says hobbies can lower blood pressure, and that would mean fewer office visits.”

  Sherry rolled her eyes.

  “I’d be happy to show him, Sherry.” Amber spoke as if Sherry needed convincing. “I could use the practice explaining the process.”

  Sherry pushed her hair behind her ears. Without lowering her hand, she then flicked her hair back to its original arrangement. “Of course. I would never turn down the chance to enlighten a potential customer.” Sherry eyed the tool in the detective’s grasp. “You don’t need that. All the supplies are already over there at the table. You can leave that right where you found it.” She directed her open palm toward him. He took his time handing over the tool. Sherry closed her grip and watched as the pair settled in at the demonstration table.

  After a few minutes, Amber and the detective rejoined Sherry at the front counter.

  “Are you hooked?” Sherry’s pun collided with Amber’s cringe. “Trade joke.”