Maple Nut Murder

by Carolyn Q. Hunter

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure Harry and the rest of the police will get to the bottom of things.”

  Suddenly, Carla’s eyes widened to the size of dish plates. “What if they think it was mine? They might think that I gave it to Samara. They might even think that I killed her,” she gasped so loudly it echoed off the kitchen cabinets.

  Bert promptly filled her friend’s glass with wine to the halfway mark. “Here. Drink this,” she ordered.

  “Did you hear me?” she insisted, picking up the glass and drinking it down in one swig. She coughed a few times, holding out the glass for more.

  “I heard you, but I think you're tired and stressed and not thinking straight.”

  “And this is supposed to help?” she groaned, watching Bert give her a refill.

  Bert set down the bottle and picked up her own glass. “This is supposed to help you calm down a little.”

  “A lot of good that’ll do if they arrest me,” she grumbled, sipping on her second serving of wine.

  “They won’t arrest you, Carla. Harry knows you personally. He knows you’d never in a million years be capable of doing anything like this.”

  Carla gave a little half-hearted shrug. “I did a few dumb things in college, you know?”

  Bert rolled her eyes, sitting down at the table. “It was the sixties,” she said to comfort her friend.

  Thankfully, Carla chuckled at the comment. “That’s true.” She smiled widely.

  “Now, if anything, I’d say it was Shay’s.”

  “Maybe he asked her to hold onto it for him,” she suggested.

  Bert gave a little nod. “True.”

  Carla sipped from her glass as she thought. “I don’t know much about these things, but do you think it’s why she was killed?”

  Bert sighed, setting her elbows on the table and sipping her drink. “I don’t know, honestly. I’ve heard professional criminal types can be pretty ruthless.”

  Carla finished off her second serving and shook her head. “I can’t believe it. There aren’t people like that in our neighborhood.”

  Bert lifted one shoulder nonchalantly. “Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. Doesn’t make it any easier to think about, though.”

  Carla leaned forward and set her chin on her arms. “We really are blessed, aren’t we, Bert? I mean, we’re both healthy and happy. We haven’t gotten mixed up in anything illegal.”

  Bert raised a humored eyebrow, thinking of how she’d gone toe-to-toe with a handful of murderers.

  “Well, what now?” Carla wondered out loud.

  “I don’t know, but for once I intend to stay out of it. Getting you back in business is more important than this murder.”

  “It’s true,” Carla agreed. “Samara was my employee.”

  “Not a very good one,” Bert reminded her, trying to talk herself out of looking into the case.

  “More importantly, she is the daughter of an old friend.”

  “I guess that’s true,” Bert agreed, feeling a little poorly about her previous comment. “She was someone’s daughter. She was loved.”

  “I wonder if the police have told them yet,” Carla wondered out loud.

  “That’ll be a hard one, for sure,” Bert admitted, refilling her own glass. She needed it the more she thought about the murder. She honestly didn’t know how the cops dealt with the sadness and horror that came along with crimes on a daily basis—but she supposed she’d dealt with her fair share all right.

  “Well, do you mind if I stay here tonight? I don’t feel like going home and sleeping above the shop, even if the police finish up enough for me to come back.”

  “Absolutely,” Bert agreed, tipping the glass and drinking heartily. She lifted a finger as an idea came to her. “I know exactly what we need.” Hopping up from the table, she went into the kitchen.

  “What?”

  “We should order a pizza!”

  “Oooh, I do love pizza,” Carla enthused.

  “We can even ask them to make their holiday trio pizza,” Bert said, waving a hand in the air.

  “But it’s not Christmas for real. You think they’d do it?”

  “Why not? It’s just red and green bell peppers, fresh basil, and pepperoni slices over a white garlic sauce.”

  Carla smiled, Bert’s happiness growing infectious. “Ooh, I do love that pizza. It’ll make it really feel like Christmas.”

  Bert walked over to her bookshelf which was filled with DVDs and pulled off a few to show her friend. “We can binge watch old Christmas classics and just forget about the shop, the sale, and the murder for a few hours.”

  Carla stood up, looking the best she had all day since the body was found. “I could do with a little old time Christmas cheer,” she agreed.

  CHAPTER 10

  “How did you sleep last night?” Bert asked as she sat up on the couch, her hand on the back of her neck, rubbing the muscles there. She had never been much of a drinker. A glass of wine in the evening, a beer when going out to a brewery or steakhouse, but that was mainly it. While she and Carla hadn’t had a lot to drink the night before, she was feeling the after-effects nonetheless. A dull headache had set in and she had a crick in her neck from sleeping on the couch.

  She’d let Carla have the bed.

  “The sleeping was fine. It’s the waking up that gets me,” Carla complained, shuffling out of the bedroom wearing a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt she’d borrowed. She brought the middle and index finger of each hand up to her temples and started making circular motions. “Remind me never to drink with you again.”

  “Hey, you can’t blame this on me.” Bert stood up from the couch and headed into the kitchen. “Anyway, this is the perfect occasion to try this new coffee one of my customers gave me to try.”

  “What is it?” Carla asked, sitting at the table and unzipping the front pocket of her purse.

  “It’s called The Black Death.” She pulled the bag out of the cupboard and showed her friend the skull and crossbones on the front.

  “Will it kill us?” Carla joked.

  “No, but it supposedly has over two times the amount of caffeine than regular coffee.”

  “Great. Maybe it’ll help clear up this whopper of a headache.” Closing the front pocket on her purse, she opened the main zipper and started digging through the mess of items there.

  Bert was just pouring in a scoop of the coffee grounds when she noticed her friends rummaging. “Something missing?”

  “I can’t find my darn chapstick. My lips are so dry I feel like they’re going to crack.”

  “You probably just need some water, is all.”

  “But I want my chapstick, too,” she complained.

  The next thing Bert knew, her friend was picking up her entire purse and turning it upside down.

  “Wait,” she shot out. It was too late. Various coins, keys, wallets, and trinkets came roaring out like a thrift store waterfall onto the tabletop. She cringed as all the various items rolled around. Bert held her tongue, though, knowing her own purse was a mess.

  She just wouldn’t have dumped it out onto her small dining table.

  However, Carla was already having a hard time. She didn’t need Bert to be irritated on top of everything else.

  “Ah, there it is,” she declared, picking up the peach scented tube.

  Bert turned away to fill the coffee maker with water and waited to roll her eyes until she knew Carla wouldn’t see.

  “Uh, Bert?” she asked hesitantly, almost quietly.

  Bert nearly didn’t realize her friend was saying her name. “Did you say something?” she asked, turning on the coffee maker.

  “Look at this,” she said, pointing at something on the table.

  From where she stood, it only looked like a coin or other trinket to Bert. However, as she moved around the island to the table, she realized exactly what it was and gasped. “Is that the other half of the key to the backdoor?”

  Carla bit her lower lip and nodded
. The small end piece glimmered in the dim morning light. “How’d it get in my bag?”

  Bert opened her mouth to answer, but instead of words coming out, a startled yelp escaped instead as someone knocked loudly on the shop’s door downstairs. It was what some people would call a police knock like you’d hear in detective shows.

  But that couldn’t be right. The only people who’d be here at this time of the morning were either Carla or Shiv. She supposed Harry occasionally arrived early to say hello—but he’d never knocked like that.

  “Who is that?” Carla asked, frantically smoothing down her wild bed hair.

  “I don’t know,” Bert said, leading the way downstairs to open it. Much to her surprise, it was Harry after all. He had another officer with him.

  “Harry?” she asked, opening the door.

  “Is Carla here, Bert?” he asked straight out.

  “Why, yes. What do you need her for?” She opened the door wider.

  Harry stepped in and narrowed his gaze at Bert’s best friend. “I’m sorry to have to do this, ladies.”

  “What are you talking about?” Bert demanded to know.

  Carla, on the other hand, had gone so pale you might mistake her for a ghost. “I-I knew it. I knew this would happen,” she stuttered.

  Harry tightened his lips as if his own body was refusing to let the words out of his mouth. However, a second later he managed to say it. “Carla Young, I’m arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Samara Weaving.”

  The next sound was of Carla hitting the floor. She’d passed out.

  CHAPTER 11

  “You can’t be serious. This is insanity,” Bert snapped at Harry while she watched the officer load a groggy Carla into the backseat of the police cruiser parked out front. At the very least, they hadn’t put cuffs on her. The police officer, trained in emergency first aid, had responded to the woman’s fainting spell quickly and efficiently.

  Despite the situation, Bert had been impressed with how gentle he’d been in waking her back up and getting her to her feet.

  Still, that didn’t stop her from being furious with them—especially Harry—for arresting her best friend for a murder she didn’t commit.

  She stood with her arms wrapped around herself confronting the detective head on. Bert felt a little self-conscious standing outside in her pajamas and robe, but there was no way she was going to allow Harry to arrest her best friend.

  “I’m sorry, Bert. I’m just following normal procedure.”

  “Does normal procedure include breaking up with your girlfriend?” she threatened, the heat of the moment getting the better of her. Her face grew warm once she realized how immature what she’d just said sounded but refused to take it back.

  After all, she had to fight for her friend. When someone she loved was in a dire situation, she always got a tad irrational.

  “Look, I’m just doing my job. I don’t always like it, but sometimes I have to things that are hard and uncomfortable.”

  “But, she just passed out, for crying out loud. Aren’t you going to have someone check her out before you haul her off in a car?”

  Harry put up his hand in defense. “I promise we will have an EMT look at her once we get her to the station if that makes you feel better.”

  Bert put her fists on her hips. “No, it doesn’t. It doesn’t erase the fact that you’re arresting Carla. Carla, Harry. Are you crazy? She wouldn’t hurt a fly and you know it.”

  The detective shook his head, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes at her. “I’m sorry, but you’re just going to have to deal with this. It’s how it is, for now.”

  Bert raised an eyebrow, realizing he’d emphasized the last two words of his sentence. “For now? What’s that mean?” she asked.

  It as clear by the look in his eye, sort of sorrowful and distant, that he didn’t really believe that Carla was the murderer. If that was true, why was he arresting her then?

  Harry sighed. “Even if I wasn’t arresting her for murder, I’d have to arrest her for possession.”

  Bert’s eyes widened, realizing what he meant. “Y-You found . . . ?” her voice trailed off, unable to believe what she was hearing. Had they really found something at Carla’s shop? Even if they did, how could they believe it was hers?

  “I can’t say anything else. I’ll let you know as soon as anything changes.” With that, he turned and walked to the car, climbing in.

  Bert watched them drive off with her friend in the backseat.

  * * *

  Stomping back up the stairs to the apartment, Bert cursed under her breath. She knew she’d sworn up and down the night before that she wouldn’t get involved in the homicide case this time, no matter how tempting it might be. No matter how connected her friend was to the crime.

  Things had changed.

  Now that Carla had been arrested, Bert would stop at nothing to prove her friend’s innocence. Carla was not a murderer.

  Someone had set her up.

  Someone had quietly let her take the fall—but who?

  Could it be that Samara was somehow involved in illegal activities after all? Was it Shay who was the culprit, trying to cover his tracks and point the finger at someone else? Or could it even be sweet Heebee or jolly Panther?

  Bert closed her eyes tightly as she entered the apartment. She was getting ahead of herself and jumping to wild conclusions.

  No, she had to take this from a logical approach. Hard evidence would be the only way to convince Harry, and anyone else on the police force, that Carla was innocent.

  But where was she going to get hard evidence?

  As she opened her eyes, she witnessed the scene of junk all over her table. Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered what she and Carla had been discussing just before the interruption. Her vision fell on the broken key.

  That was her ticket to springboard this investigation.

  CHAPTER 12

  Before anything else, even before doing any sort of investigation involving the broken key, Bert called up Carla’s brother. Sean had recently opened a chiropractic office in the downtown area of Culver’s Hood and had a bit of a handle on business and law as well, thanks to his studies in those areas back in his college days.

  She quickly explained the situation and asked if he could find Carla a lawyer to help in the interim.

  Sean agreed, saying that he’d cancel his morning appointments and get back to her as soon as he’d set something up.

  Once she was off the phone, Bert turned her attention back to the key, wondering just how she might use it to further her investigation. Should she take it to Harry right away? Would that help?

  She shook her head.

  That wouldn’t work. Since the key was found in Carla’s purse, it might only incriminate her more. However, what this told Bert was that someone stole the key to get in and out of the stockroom through the backdoor. After killing Samara, they pushed a big heavy box in front of the interior door and broke off the key in the outside door.

  What for? To keep anyone from finding the body sooner? To try to keep their stash safe until they could come back for it? That hadn’t worked, obviously, since the police had found something and pinned it on Carla.

  Bert was only assuming what the police found was in the stockroom, of course, since Harry couldn’t give her too many details.

  So, how could she use the key, then?

  Before she could devise an answer, there was a loud knock from the shop below.

  Bert sighed, wondering who it could be. Considering the current events, and in wanting to help her friend, Bert had decided to stay closed for the day. She was glad she did since now she would have a chance to work on the case. She’d also informed Shiv to take the day off, so who could it be that was knocking? The police again?

  Quickly running a brush through her hair so she didn’t look as sloppy, she headed downstairs. Much to her surprise, looking through the glass doorway she saw Heebee standing there.

  “Go
od morning, Heebee,” she greeted the young woman, motioning for her to step inside.

  “Oh, no. Did I wake you up?”

  Bert shook her head. “Hardly. Come on in.” She didn’t drop the bomb yet that the police had woken them up and arrested Carla.

  Heebee stepped through the door, looking around the shop in a short moment of awe. “Wow. It’s amazing in here.”

  “Thank you,” Bert said, closing the door.

  “I always meant to come in and see what all the hype was about, but now I’m just blown away.” She caressed a few books on the new releases shelf gently as if drinking in their essence.

  “What can I do for you?” Bert asked feeling a little frumpy in front of the well-dressed young woman. She had on tight fitting jean shorts and a slim t-shirt that didn’t quite cover her bellybutton. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she had on just the right amount of makeup to bring out her natural beauty.

  “Oh, yes. I was hoping Carla was here. I wanted to see how she was doing this morning after such a big shock yesterday. When we found out what had happened, I felt so sorry for her.”

  Bert raised an eyebrow but managed to smile to cover up her inquisitive look. What had sparked in her mind was the memory of Shay with Samara. Had he been there when Heebee found out? How had he reacted?

  She realized that this was a perfect opportunity for investigating that had just fallen into her lap.

  She clasped her hands. “She isn’t here this morning, no, but she did stay the night last night.”

  “Oh, I see. I hope she’s okay.”

  “She’s fine,” Bert said, lying about everything being all right. If she wanted some proper information from the girl she knew that she couldn’t reveal the truth quite yet. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I just made some,” she offered, remembering the pot upstairs.

  “Oh, if you don’t mind, that would be nice,” Heebee said, helping herself by sitting at one of the tables.

  “Great. Be right back,” Bert said, disappearing up the stairs. A moment later, she came back down with two steaming mugs of the overly strong coffee in hand. “Do you care for any milk, cream, or sugar?” she asked.