“Mrs. Granger, do you still have that gun you showed me and Meg?”
“What gun?” Something in Mrs. Granger’s voice, usually so forthright and clear, caught Amanda’s attention.
“The one you had at the farmers market. Remember?”
“Oh, that old thing?” Mrs. Granger waved a hand dismissively. “Owen borrowed it a few days back to shoot squirrels. Said they were pilfering every last walnut and filbert he had at his place, and he was going to take ‘em all out.”
Amanda knew that Owen was very proud of his orchard, having ripped up his kitchen garden years ago to make more room for new trees and a huge grape arbor and raspberry patch. She could definitely picture the cranky old guy setting his sights on whatever furry critter would dare eat any of his produce, and trying to shoot it dead. If the rumors were true it was possible that its poor little carcass might’ve wound up in Owen’s stewpot, too.
“Do you know what type of gun it was, Mrs. Granger?”
The old lady shrugged. “One that shoots things, that’s all I know. I know Hubert kept it loaded in case burglars got in the house.”
Amanda pressed on. “Do you know what size it is, like how big the bullets are?”
Mrs. Granger looked confused. “Um, thirty something. I don’t remember.”
She waved a lone Oreo at her young guest. “You know, since you’ve come to Ravenwood Cove we’ve had two murders. That’s a trend.” Her bright eyes twinkled in merriment. “You’re not the common denominator here, are ya, Amanda?”
Amanda sat up stiffly, a bit offended. She was proud of the friends she’d made at Ravenwood Cove and the way she’d helped the town, so for someone to imply that the two recent murders were perhaps connected to her was definitely uncomfortable.
At Amanda’s huffy answer of “I don’t think so,” Mrs. Granger hastily tried to bring back her guest’s good mood. “I was only joking, dear. I wasn’t trying to point fingers,” she added as she took a big bite of her cookie. “I was just commenting that since you showed up this town hasn’t been the same, and actually I think that’s a good thing.” She grinned, dark cookie crumbs outlining her fake teeth. “Both of those dead guys deserved whatever they got.”
Amanda curbed a smile when she saw the remnants of Oreo in her friend’s dentures, but pressed on. “What do you mean, they deserved whatever they got? Did you know Anderson Bowles, Mrs. Granger?”
Her hostess shook her head and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “I never met him before, and I was glad you didn’t know him either. He was the worst type of boy.”
Amanda instantly understood that if Mrs. Granger hadn’t met him and had such contempt for him in her voice, she must’ve gotten the info from someone else. “What do you know about him?” she asked, trying to maintain an air of detachment.
The wily old woman wasn’t having any of it. “You questioning me, young lady? You’re starting to sound like a certain young detective I know.” Amanda stayed patiently silent, and finally Mrs. Granger sighed in defeat.
“You ever heard of those men who attack girls when they’re out on dates with them, or who put drugs in their drinks and then carry them off to do terrible things?”
The hair on the back of Amanda’s neck was standing up, her arms pimpling with goosebumps.
“You mean date rapists.” It wasn’t a question. The year before she left LA, a friend of Amanda’s had been attacked while on a date with a seemingly nice guy, and it had shattered her life in terrible ways.
“Yes.” Mrs. Granger’s bright, sparrow-like eyes bored into Amanda’s. “He was one. Attacked the granddaughter of–“ she hesitated for a moment – “a person I know. That poor girl was never the same. She wound up dropping out of college and moving to the other side of the country, just to get away from the memories, I guess. I heard she even thought about suicide.” Her eyes were moist with unshed sympathy. “It was terrible.”
Amanda thought back on the fact that Meg had dated this guy very briefly and her stomach lurched at the thought of what could’ve happened to her. “So, you didn’t know this guy by sight, but you know about him now? Or had you heard about him before?”
“Does it matter?” The old lady hauled herself up to stand at her walker and started moving toward the kitchen. “I’ll make tea.”
“I thought you were out of tea.”
“Fine. I’ll make Kool-aid, then.”
Mrs. Granger definitely knew more than she was telling, but she had clammed up tight and wouldn’t answer any more questions, no matter how delicately Amanda probed or how many teacups of raspberry Kool-aid she sipped. Even without giving any more information, it was apparent that the old lady was very sure of her facts, and of her opinion of Anderson Bowles. With a past like that Amanda could certainly understand why someone would want a sexual predator dead, especially if they’d been affected by him or if someone they loved had been one of his victims.
Amanda tried to look interested in the stories her hostess was telling, but just as she finished her second cup of juice a sudden, horrible realization hit her. What if Meg hadn’t told her the whole story about her time dating Anderson Bowles? What if she’d been one of his victims?
Following that thought to the next question made Amanda’s heartbeat race and she felt almost physically ill. What if her sweet, bubbly friend had been victimized, and had decided to somehow take revenge on the despicable Anderson Bowles?
Chapter 9
It seemed like no matter where Amanda went in Ravenwood Cove, people wanted to talk to her. She was used to the merchants she knew waving and smiling and wanting to chat, but this trip into town was different. Apparently finding a dead body under mysterious circumstances brought out the amateur sleuths and gossips, all eager to stop her on the sidewalk and question her about what new details had been discovered. A simple drive to Main Street to pick up supplies and talk to shopkeepers about the upcoming bake sale to benefit the library book fund became a nearly two-hour affair. Person after person stopped her for ‘just a few minutes’ and tried to pry any new news out of her. She kept trying to control her frustration and be polite even as she did her best to extradite herself from the conversations, and she was careful to remember James’ admonition to keep details of the investigation quiet. What they talked about stayed confidential.
Ducking under the pink- and white-striped awning of the Bake Me Happy Bakery and Candy Shoppe, Amanda let out a deep sigh of relief. Not only was the beautiful little shop a favorite place of hers, but the quiet atmosphere and delicious aromas made it seem like a haven from the constant questions she’d been fielding all morning. The air was thick with the luscious smells of bread fresh out of the oven and melted chocolate, and she noticed there were several new, large glass jars in the candy section.
Mrs. Mason was using a long pair of wooden tongs to carefully choose the perfect jawbreaker candy from a tall jar as Danielle Ortiz stood on her tiptoes and gave her clear instructions on exactly which one she wanted. Her mother, Amy, stood by watching her eight-year-old direct the enormously patient Mrs. Mason until just the right candy was extracted carefully from the jar and plopped into a white wax bag. Danielle’s gap-toothed grin was about a mile wide as she handed over some coins from her allowance and Mrs. Mason wished her a good day. Amanda smiled at Amy as she herded Danielle out the door, then had to grit her teeth at Mrs. Mason’s greeting.
“So, what do you hear about the investigation? Has that detective of yours found the culprit yet?”
So much for the bakery being a haven of quiet and peace.
“He’s not my detective, Mrs. Mason. He’s just a friend.”
Mrs. Mason looked over the top of her wire-rimmed glasses, dubious. “Really?” She drew it out in that way people do when they’re talking to a dim-witted child. “Well, honey, you’re just gonna have to try harder.”
“Mrs. Mason – “
The plump baker interrupted her, waving the wooden tongs as she walked toward the cash register.
“Oh, I’m just teasing you, Amanda. Don’t sound so irritated. Now, about the investigation, what’s new?” She opened the register drawer and dropped in Danielle’s coins, still peering at the younger woman over the top edge of her glasses.
“Nothing much.” Nothing much I can talk about, she thought, but kept it to herself. “I thought I’d swing by and see what you were donating for the library bake sale, and remind you that it’s not too early to start planning for the Hometown Holiday Festival in December. Are you still making pumpkin muffins for the Harvest Festival?”
Mrs. Mason wasn’t going to be deterred quite so easily. “The word around town is that there are plenty of people who would’ve liked to see that guy dead.” She leaned forward, her voice a near whisper in the empty bakery. “Pervert, doncha know.”
Amanda’s heart sank. She’d been suspicious that the news about Anderson Bowles’ nefarious life had leaked out, and now it was confirmed. She was definitely going to have a talk about gossip with a certain ninety-year old friend of hers.
“I can’t say I blame ‘em,” Mrs. Mason continued, wiping her hands off on her apron. “Men like him deserve whatever they get.”
Amanda gave up. Apparently there had already been all sorts of backroom chitchat about the murder and speculation on who had done what. If you can’t beat ‘em, she thought.
“So what are people saying?”
“Oh, I never listen to what other people say,” Mrs. Mason said, smiling and obviously sincere. “It’s against my personal beliefs.” Her voice dropped low again. “But, I can tell you who’d I’d put my money on, if there was such a thing as a betting pool.”
A betting pool for murder. Amanda tried to keep her voice calm and not show her irritation. “You think you know who killed Anderson Bowles?”
“Well, I have my suspicions. Did you hear about the argument between him and someone else, right here in my bakery?”
That got Amanda’s attention. “What argument?”
Mrs. Mason suddenly seemed upset, her eyebrows gathered together in concern. “You know I don’t like it when people disagree in the bakery. Well, that man, Anderson Bowles, was in here buying raspberry tarts and flirting with Celia, when Truman comes barging in here like he owned the place. I don’t know if he’d been following Mr. Bowles or saw him through the window, but he storms in and starts raising his voice right away.” Mrs. Mason’s eyes darted sideways, as if she was telling a secret. “He laid into him, telling him that he hoped he never saw him again, and then they started arguing something fierce.”
Amanda was shocked. She’d never expected to hear something like this, especially about her new friend, Truman. He seemed like such a friendly, helpful sort of person that the idea of him yelling at someone in anger seemed completely out of character.
“Argued about what?”
“Truman said he was a pathetic excuse for a man and that he’d ruined some girl’s life. Got right in his face and hollered at him. Called him a weasel.”
“And then what happened?”
Mrs. Mason leaned closer, her voice low even though there was no one else in the bakery. “Truman really lost his temper, and I mean really lost it. He told that man-“Mrs. Mason pointed a finger for emphasis – “that Anderson may have thought he finished Truman’s life, but that he hadn’t.” Mrs. Mason’s eyes had a flicker of fear in them. “Truman told Anderson Bowles that he was going to end his life.”
A chill ran down Amanda’s spine. Her mouth felt dry when she asked, “Mrs. Mason, are you sure about all this?”
Mrs. Mason seemed almost offended by Amanda’s question. “Sure as I’m sitting here. If you ask me, Truman meant every word he said.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “If you ask me, I think Anderson Bowles did something terrible to him, too, and Truman was completely serious when he threatened to kill him.”
Chapter 10
It took three more days before James sent Amanda a text saying that the preliminary autopsy and lab results were back, and asking if he could swing by to talk with her. With seven new guests at the Inn; one elderly couple and a young family with three children; it was difficult to find time to herself to meet with James but she really wanted to know what the medical examiner had found. By the time she’d done her morning chores, given her guests information about the best things to see in town, and made sure all the animals were fed and watered she knew she’d have enough time to meet with James. A quick text, and when he responded she was on her way down to Cuppa. Driving her new car through the swirling red and gold leaves that were blowing down the street in the autumn wind made her happy, and she hummed a little as she thought about the good coffee and warm cinnamon rolls waiting for her.
The front windows of her favorite coffeeshop were already decorated for the season, with ropes of small yellow and orange lights surrounding each pane and a garland of colorful leaves and fake red berries looped across the top. When Amanda walked in she could see Tory pulling a batch of pastries out of the oven in the back room. She waved in greeting and walked over to the counter, where Meg was actually bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, waiting to take her order.
“Too much caffeine this morning?” she asked as she laughed, watching her friend’s blonde curls dance a bit as she grinned at her.
“Just in a good mood I guess,” Meg said. “I already know what you’re going to order. Hang on a second and I’ll make it for you.” Meg hummed happily as she pulled out the chocolate powder for Amanda’s morning mocha. “How can I not be happy when I don’t have to worry about Anderson stalking me anymore?”
Meg was right of course, but just hearing her say those words made Amanda’s upbeat mood vanish. She couldn’t even picture her sweet bubbly friend as a murderer, but somebody definitely had killed him and the more she thought about it the more she could see how Meg would have a motive. Even though she doubted Meg was capable of killing another human being, she wasn’t so sure that the police would agree with her.
The tinkling bell over the door announced James’ arrival, metal travel mug in hand. Meg pointed at him accusingly just as he was taking off his coat.
“Don’t you be bringing in somebody else’s coffee in this place, you,” she teased. “You’ve got a lot of nerve to bring in some other place’s coffee when this is the locally owned shop.” James set his mug down and put up both of hands in self-defense. “Hey, I just made this at home this morning and I promise to buy a half dozen cinnamon rolls for the crew at the Sheriff’s office. Will that keep you from smacking me?”
Meg winked at him as she poured coffee into a large cup. “Well, okay then. If you’re going to be a customer that’s different. I guess I’ll let you stay.” A buzzer sounded from the back room, and Meg swiveled her head toward the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a few. Gotta take the scones out of the oven and put the next batch in.”
Coffee safely procured, Amanda headed over to one of the upholstered chairs and James followed her, file in hand. A sip of good fresh coffee, a welcoming smile from James, and she was ready to hear whatever the folder included.
“So, what did the medical examiner say?”
He flipped open the file. “Well, you have to understand that the final results won’t be in for quite some time. A full toxicology and DNA report can take weeks, but since it is a murder investigation they’ll put a rush on it. The surprising thing about this report-“ he held up a sheet of paper, then continued, “- is that the medical examiner’s original theory was spot on. It was a heart attack.”
“Are you kidding? With him stripped naked like that?” Amanda was dumbfounded. She pictured the little pipe-smoking examiner pronouncing his opinion of the cause of death without having really checked over the body, and she remembered the scoffing response he’d gotten from the law enforcement officers on site.
“Yes and no. He died from something like a heart attack but that wasn’t all. The coroner found a type of heart medicine in his body, but the heart muscle looks completely healthy.
There are no records of Anderson Bowles having any sort of current heart issue on any of his known medical files, and no record of him being prescribed anything that would be for his heart.”
Amanda thought over James’ words. “You think somebody killed him by giving him heart medicine?” She thought over the various townspeople she knew, especially the ones that she knew had medical problems. There are a lot of ways to get heart medicine, including being somebody who had access to medicine even if it wasn’t their own.
“What else did he find?” She tried not to shudder, remembering. “He had a lot of purple marks on him, near the bottom of the boat.”
“Actually, it was at the bottom of his body, when he was lying in that position. You see, when a dead body lies a certain way gravity takes the blood to the lowest point and it pools there. It almost looks like bruising.” Amanda grimaced, and James reached over and patted her hand. “Sorry, I know it’s gruesome. And that’s all the details that were in the report, with one exception.”
Amanda leaned forward, expectant. “What exception?”
James closed the folder and set it on the nearby table. “Anderson Bowles was absolutely, positively, not shot. There was no bullet wound on the body.”
“And that’s it?”
James shook his head, his face serious. “No. All fingerprints except for Anderson’s were so smeared that they couldn’t be identified. Also, the crime scene guys confirmed what we’d thought from our investigation the day the body was found. They said that the trajectory of the bullet is from about two feet center of the bottom of the boat.”
“The boat Anderson was in?”
“Yep.”
Taking a sip of her mocha, Amanda knit her eyebrows together in thought. “So if Anderson wasn’t shot and we know the trajectory of the bullet found in the motor came from two feet up in the bottom of the boat, does that mean someone else was fighting with him in the boat?”
DUNE, DOCK, and a DEAD MAN: A Ravenwood Cove Cozy Mystery Page 6