by Penny Pike
• • •
On the ride back to the Enchanted Apple, I told Jake what I’d learned—not much in terms of spoken words, but Paula’s body language had chattered quite a bit. She’d reacted to the comments about the GMO company and even tried to defend them. However, I still wondered why she was spending so much time with Adam Bramley. What did she hope to gain from him? Access to information about his farm? Leverage for Eden Corporation? He might have seemed like a meek old guy, but those were often the ones with the most secrets.
We arrived at the inn to find Aunt Abby, Dillon, and Honey seated in the parlor, sipping apple wine next to a cozy fire. Honey looked tired. She still wore the khaki slacks, now wrinkled, and a beige blouse, topped by a knitted vest that featured apple pies and black birds. I wondered where she got all her apple-themed clothes. Not that I was in the market.
“Darcy!” Aunt Abby said. “You made it. You took so long, I was getting worried, what with all that’s going on around here.”
I waved a greeting to everyone, then took off my jacket and joined the small group in the parlor. Jake hung our jackets on a coatrack by the door that was made from deer antlers and sat down next to me. Honey leaned over and poured two more glasses of wine—one for me and one for Jake.
“Sorry if I worried you,” I said, after taking a sip. “I stopped to talk to Paula and Adam at the restaurant.”
Aunt Abby’s eyebrows shot up. Honey looked at me wide-eyed.
“Did you confront her about working for Eden Corporation?” Aunt Abby asked.
I looked at Honey for a reaction to Aunt Abby’s announcement, but from her lack of expression, I sensed my aunt had already blabbed it to her.
“I can’t believe she lied about her job,” Honey said, “all the while sleeping under my roof!” She took a long swallow of wine, then added, “She’s probably the one who murdered that . . . that traitor, Roman Gold.”
“I don’t think so,” Jake said, setting down his wineglass.
“Why not?” Honey asked. “She sure doesn’t seem very upset about his death.”
“What’s her motive?” Jake asked.
“Uh . . .” Honey shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they were having an affair and he got jealous that she was flirting with Adam, and he tried to kill her, and she killed him in self-defense.”
Wow, I thought. If she could come up with a motive like that, she should be writing murder mysteries, not running a bed-and-breakfast.
“Nah,” Dillon said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his bony knees. “Too obvious. First of all, we didn’t hear any fighting or anything like that. And she wouldn’t have done it with all of us around. At least, I wouldn’t. Plus, I’m sure she’s had plenty of other opportunities to kill him, since she worked with him. Did the cops get any prints on that stabby thingy?”
Honey shook her head. “Murph said the apple corer was wiped clean.”
“Do you think he suspects that you did it?” Dillon asked Honey.
The room went deadly silent, except for Aunt Abby’s gasp.
“Dillon!” she said.
Honey smiled. “It’s okay. I realize things look bad in terms of the murder weapon and all. But I didn’t have any reason to kill him.”
“Except,” Dillon continued, in spite of a glare from Aunt Abby, “you might have already found out he was the CEO of Eden Corporation and figured he came here to worm his way into the apple business.” The kid really had no filter.
“Dillon, you’re not helping,” I said.
“Darcy’s right, Dillon,” Aunt Abby agreed. “Honey had nothing to do with it. I’ve known her a long time, and even though we haven’t see each other much over the past few years, I’m always right about things like this, aren’t I, Darcy? I’ve always been intuitive.”
The last two times my aunt had been involved in a murder case, she was actually a suspect in one of them, so I could hardly call that unbiased intuition.
“Listen,” Jake said, “until we know more, let’s just take a minute and look at what we do know.”
“He’s right,” I said, remembering the rules they’d taught us in journalism schools. “Until we know what, when, where, how, and why, we’re not going to know who. So far we know what—Roman Gold was murdered. We know approximately when—last night between two and four. Where? In his room, which was supposedly locked. And how? With an antique apple corer. But the big question is why? If we can figure that out, we might be able to figure out who.”
“I’ll tell you why,” Honey said, straightening her slouch. “He came here to spy on us farmers—me in particular—to find our weak spots, buy up our property, and then convince the rest of the farmers to convert to his growing methods. If you’ll remember, he had a lot to say on the subject the night before he was killed.”
A knock on the door startled us.
What now? Another fire alert? The sheriff come to cart Honey off to jail—thanks to me? Or just another drop-in visit from Nathan or Red or Adam?
Honey stood up, tried to smooth out the wrinkles in her pants, and walked to the door.
She peered through the peephole—something she hadn’t done before the murder—and gasped. She stepped back, looking about to faint. Aunt Abby and I rushed over to support her, followed by Jake and Dillon. While Abby wrapped an arm around her, I yanked open the door to see who had caused her to be so alarmed.
Speak of the devil. It was Sheriff Murphy O’Neil. He wasn’t smiling.
“Are you here to arrest me?” Honey blurted. She looked pale and drawn. Abby clasped her hand.
Someone in the shadows stepped out from behind the sheriff.
“Wes!” Aunt Abby said, letting go of Honey. Her face lit up when she saw Detective Shelton and she went over to give him a warm hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Detective Shelton seemed a little taken aback by the welcoming committee.
“The gang’s all here, I see,” he said, eyeing each of us and nodding. Honey looked visibly relieved. Just the way I felt.
“Come in, come in!” Aunt Abby said, taking him by the arm. “How was the drive?”
Sheriff O’Neil followed him in after wiping his shoes on the WELCOME TO THE ENCHANTED APPLE doormat.
“You two know each other?” I asked, glancing back and forth between the sheriff and the detective as they stood side by side in the entryway. They were as different as night and day, and not just because they were black and white. Detective Shelton had at least five inches on Sheriff Murphy, towering over him at six feet plus. He’d also stayed in better shape than his country equal, I thought, noting Sheriff O’Neil’s expanding paunch, compared to Detective Shelton’s muscular physique. The sheriff’s pale, freckled complexion and fine lines reflected his Irish background, while the detective’s smooth coffee-colored skin made him look years younger than the Irishman. Both still had their hair, but Detective Shelton had only begun to gray, while Sheriff O’Neil’s once blond hair had given way to mostly white. It was hard to believe they were the same age.
“Went to the academy together,” Detective Shelton said, acknowledging his peer. “Long time ago, right, Murph?”
Sheriff O’Neil gave Detective Shelton’s shoulder a buddy slap. “We were just kids. Can’t believe we’re both still trying to catch criminals.”
Looking more relaxed now that she wasn’t being arrested, Honey took the men’s coats, then herded everyone into the parlor. Detective Shelton sat down beside Aunt Abby while Sheriff O’Neil stood by the fireplace, warming his hands.
Honey disappeared into the kitchen while the two lawmen reminisced; then Honey returned with two more wineglasses and handed one to Sheriff O’Neil and one to Detective Shelton. “You must be Abby’s friend from the city,” she said to the detective.
Aunt Abby blinked. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot to introduce you. Honey, this is my boyfriend, Wes. He’s a homicide detective for the San Francisco Police Department. Wes, this is my old friend Honey. She owns this adorab
le bed-and-breakfast.”
Did my aunt really just call Detective Shelton her boyfriend? OMG.
The detective stood up, grinning sheepishly, and shook Honey’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Abby’s told me a lot about you. I understand you had some trouble here last night.”
There’s a cop for you, I thought. Getting right to the elephant in the room.
Honey nodded and glanced at Sheriff O’Neil.
“Wes stopped by my office when he got to town,” Sheriff O’Neil said. “I was telling him about the murder on the ride over. We don’t get many homicides in Apple Valley and we can always use another expert set of eyes on a case like this.”
Wes sat down. “Well, it’s out of my jurisdiction, but if you need any help, Murph, I’m happy to do what I can while I’m here.”
“You stopped off there?” Aunt Abby asked the detective.
“Common courtesy,” Detective Shelton explained. “I don’t want to step on any toes. I’m just here for a weekend vacation.”
“Hey, you’re always welcome here,” Sheriff O’Neil said. “And this murder case is a real puzzler. So far we don’t have many leads other than the weapon and opportunity.”
Honey bowed her head, as if sensing the sheriff might be referring to her. After all, it was her so-called weapon and she certainly had plenty of opportunity. She lifted the bottle of wine from the coffee table and poured herself another glass.
“So, fill me in,” the detective said after taking a small sip.
Aunt Abby and Honey took turns sharing the details with Detective Shelton, although I had a feeling he’d already learned most of the information from Sheriff O’Neil.
When they were done, Aunt Abby asked, “So, what do you think, Wes? Any hunches?”
He raised an eyebrow. “So, Dillon, you said Roman Gold was hiding something?”
Dillon took in a breath and was about to answer when the sheriff sucked the wind out of his sails with two words: “Reuben Gottfried. Yeah, we know.”
Dillon frowned.
Detective Shelton steepled his fingertips. “So, the CEO of this mutant apple company is murdered—with an apple corer, no less. The killer knew where to find the weapon and the key to Gold-slash-Gottfried’s room. Then the killer went upstairs and stabbed him without any of you hearing anything, leaving you to find the body the next morning. Have I got that right?”
We all nodded silently. Somehow the detective had managed to make us all sound like accomplices for being sound asleep at the time of the murder.
“And these fires,” he continued. “You think they might be related?”
“I’m sure of it,” Honey said. “Those GMO people are targeting us apple growers, so they must think setting fires to our places will intimidate us.”
“Then why would someone murder the CEO of the company?” Detective Shelton asked.
“Because one of the farmers found out he set the fires and killed him,” Honey said.
“Wasn’t the latest fire at the festival tent set after Gottfried was killed?” Detective Shelton asked. “Wouldn’t that indicate the CEO wasn’t the fire-starter?”
There was silence among us.
“Just spitballing here,” Jake said, “but what if Roman or Reuben or whoever he is and Eden Corporation was in competition with another GMO company for the land up here? Maybe someone from that company knew what Roman was up to and decided to eliminate the head of Eden.”
Detective Shelton turned to the sheriff. “Got any leads on other companies in this area competing with this Eden Corp?”
“Not that I know of,” he said, “but I’ll check.”
More silence as we sipped our wines.
“Maybe,” Honey said quietly, “someone who doesn’t like me is trying to make it look like I murdered my own guest in my own house with my own weapon.”
Detective Shelton’s eyebrows rose. “Do you have any enemies, Ms. Smith?”
She looked at Sheriff O’Neil, as if he might know of some, then shrugged. “I don’t think so. I’ve never done anything bad enough to cause someone to do this.”
Sheriff O’Neil cleared his throat and then said, “Maybe the fires aren’t related to the murder at all. Maybe we’re dealing with two separate crimes here—murder and arson. Someone murdered the CEO of a GMO company. Someone else set the fires in the area.”
“Seems awfully coincidental,” I said. “If we can find a connection between the two, I think we can find both the murderer and the firebug.”
The front door of the bed-and-breakfast suddenly swung open. Everyone turned to see who had entered.
In stepped Paula Hayashi, followed by Adam Bramley. One from each camp, I thought. Paula represented the GMO company, while Adam was head of the American Apple Association. How had they become so chummy?
The smiles faded from Paula’s and Adam’s faces when they turned and found us all staring at them.
“Wow,” Paula said, removing her coat. “This is just like an Agatha Christie mystery with all of you gathered in the proverbial parlor.” She looked at the sheriff. “I’ll bet you’re playing the part of Hercule Poirot in this potboiler?” Then she turned to Detective Shelton. “But who are you supposed to be? Miss Marple’s alter ego?”
Uh-oh. She didn’t know who she was dealing with.
The detective set down his glass and stood up, rising above us like a mountain. His dark, piercing eyes narrowed as he focused on her.
“I’m San Francisco Homicide Detective Wellesley Shelton. And if you’re a guest here, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Boom, lady! You’ve been served!
Chapter 13
That stopped Paula Hayashi in her high-heeled tracks. Adam Bramley looked as if he wanted to disappear into the wall behind him. The rest of us just enjoyed watching Detective Shelton do his thing.
Sheriff O’Neil gestured toward the parlor. Detective Shelton entered, sat down on the couch that was flanked by the other two couches, then turned around and said, “Have a seat” to Paula and Adam. Adam bowed his head as he made his way inside while Paula hesitated a moment before entering. She glanced at Sheriff O’Neil, then took a seat on the couch on the detective’s left while Adam slumped into the couch on the detective’s right. Neither Paula nor Adam looked at each other, as if both wanted to distance themselves from the other.
Detective Shelton looked back at the rest of us standing nearby. “Would you all excuse us, please?”
Sheriff O’Neil turned to Honey. “Why don’t you wait in the dining room until we’re done here? Honey, would you be kind enough to get everyone some coffee?” He pulled the sliding wooden doors to the parlor closed.
Disappointed at not being able to witness his interrogation, I veered to the dining room to wait for news from the interrogation.
“No coffee for me,” Aunt Abby said. “I’m going to bed.” She yawned as she detoured toward the stairs.
I stopped and turned to her. “You’re not going to wait up and see what they find out?”
“Wes will tell me . . . later.” She smiled. I knew what that smile meant, and it had nothing to do with what the detective might or might not tell her later.
Dillon started to follow her up.
“Dillon? You too?” I called to him.
He shrugged. “I got a few things I want to check. I’ll catch you later.”
I turned to Jake and Honey, who stood in the doorway to the dining room.
Honey sighed. “I’m going to go clean up the kitchen. It’s a mess from all my baking. Would you two like some coffee?”
I shook my head, not wanting the caffeine to keep me up. Jake said no and thanked her.
As soon as Honey left, I looked at Jake, still standing at the edge of the room. “Well, I guess it’s just you and me.”
“Yeah, about that,” Jake said, then pressed his lips together for a moment. “I’m bushed. What do you say we call it a night? It’s been quite a day, and we have to get up early again tomorrow.”
“Seriously? You’re abandoning me too? I have to wait down here all by myself?”
Jake took my hands. “First of all, you don’t have to wait. I’m sure Detective Shelton will fill us in tomorrow at breakfast. Unless, of course, he can’t. And second, aren’t you tired? You worked all day in the school bus, then got lost in a hay maze that you thought was on fire. Besides, didn’t you grill Paula on the way out of the restaurant and essentially find out nothing? I doubt Paula or Adam will share much with the detective either. There’s really nothing more we can do tonight. At least, in terms of solving a murder.” He gave me a sexy grin.
In spite of being disappointed that he wasn’t going to hang around for the results of Detective Shelton’s inquiry, I melted a little. Maybe he was right. I hadn’t slept well the night before, and hoped that night I’d get at least a few hours of uninterrupted z’s, although I doubted it. While my body ached for rest, my mind was boiling like a pot of hot apple cider.
Jake nodded toward the stairs and I followed his lead.
“All right, you win. I’m tired too. I just wish I could do something for Honey. She seems depressed about all this, and probably worried about her implication in the murder.”
“Let the cops handle it,” Jake advised. “Sheriff O’Neil seems fairly competent, in spite of being a small-town officer, and you know Detective Shelton is sharp. If Paula or Adam knows something about the murder, the officers will find out—eventually.”
I knew they were capable, but it wouldn’t hurt to do a little investigating of my own. “What if there’s another murder?” I shivered.
Jake stopped on the second-floor landing. “Darcy, there’s no reason to think that. I’m sure Roman Gold was murdered for a reason. Don’t go imagining we have a serial killer in our midst. You’re perfectly safe here and so are the others. Roman had something to hide and it got him killed.”
I nodded as he unlocked our door and opened it for me.
“I need a shower,” he said once we were inside. “Join me?”