“Do you believe everything he told you?” Tabby asked, still skeptical.
“I do, but I wanted to know what you think.”
“I’m going to be truthful; I don’t know what to think. Mrs. Piper recognizes him at the diner and is found dead the next morning. We have Dave Tullinson’s murder that there seems to be no reason for what-so-ever. I just find it weird that things started happening when he moved to town,” Tabby replied.
“Do you have any other suspects, I mean, other than Samuel Benson?”
“I only have one other now that Dave Tullinson is dead.”
“And who would that be?”
“I don’t have any evidence other than odd behavior to back up my suspicions,” Tabby explained.
“Who are we talking about?”
“Jack Fletcher.”
“I see. He and Dave Tullinson have been friends as far back as I can remember.”
“I think they were Carl Bender’s two accomplices in the robbery and they stayed around town looking for the money. They are all about the same age and all lived here in 1994.”
“That would make sense. Both men did quite a bit of repair work for Mrs. Piper over the years. Maybe they were searching the house while she was at work.”
“And she was searching it while not at work. Betsy told me her mother was obsessed with finding the money; that was why she bought the house in the first place. To listen to Betsy, her mother put the money ahead of her own daughter.”
“I know she was dabbling with the spirit world trying to raise Carl Bender’s ghost,” Mr. Wells stated.
“And from what Betsy said, she was chasing the Floater all around the cemetery trying to get information from him, too. I think she was a little nuts if you ask me.”
“Betsy did not have a happy childhood, and I can’t blame anyone else but her mother. When the fire took her husband, Mrs. Piper never got over it. I heard her tell her young daughter many times that she wished it was her who was lost in the fire instead of her father,” he said sadly.
“How awful for Betsy. I can’t imagine your own mother wishing you dead.”
“Not many people know this, but Betsy’s father ran back into the burning house to save his daughter. He dropped her out the second-floor window to waiting arms below and a split second later, the roof caved in. He never made it out.”
“I didn’t know that,” Tabby said.
“Mildred Piper made her daughter feel guilty her whole life that her father loved her enough to give up his own life to make sure she lived.”
“It’s a no wonder Betsy doesn’t want to live in the house on Ball Road. Where was the house that burned?”
“Do you know the old Greyson house out near Fuller’s Point? Their house was next to that one. I believe the foundation is still there, but I don’t know who owns the land now,” Mr. Wells answered. “So, back to why I came here in the first place.”
“I am impressed that Samuel Benson told you the truth about who he was. I still have to keep him on my list of suspects in Mrs. Piper’s murder. She recognized him at the diner and he was on the list of people who were at the library the next morning. I am afraid that until we figure out who killed her, I can’t give you a positive vote of confidence in regard to Samuel Benson.”
“Fair enough.”
“I’m sorry,” Tabby said.
“Don’t be sorry. I came to you asking for your thoughts and you truthfully told me what you think.”
“I will let you know if we find out anything to help you with your decision,” Tabby promised.
He gave Ghost another scratch and walked towards the door, turning before he opened it.
“Just so you know, I voted for your window to win this year. I loved your old-fashioned theme. I’m sorry you didn’t win,” Mr. Wells said.
“That’s okay. I really love Greg’s window and I’m glad it won first place. But, we walked around and couldn’t find who won third place.”
“Your mother’s shop, Mystic Happenings took third place,” he answered.
“That’s weird, she never said a word that she won at the meeting on Sunday night,” Tabby said.
“The ribbon is gone off her window. Maybe, she didn’t want you to know that she won,” Mr. Wells suggested.
CHAPTER 10
* * *
The snow finally stopped falling on Wednesday morning. Tabby opened the shop as usual and waited for Janice to clock-in so that she could go upstairs to cook. Sandy Benson came by for a visit and to buy some jellies to mail to family members as Christmas presents. As she shopped, she babbled on about anything that came to her mind.
Tabby listened in for a few minutes and then tuned her out walking up to the register to wait on another customer. Sandy added to her pile of jelly jars on the register counter for a good half hour. Finished, she took out her wallet and waited for Tabby to ring her purchases up.
“That’s an awful lot of jelly,” Tabby commented.
“Half is for gifts and the rest is for Samuel for Christmas; he loves your jelly,” Sandy replied.
“He’s never been in here to buy any of my jelly,” Tabby stated.
“Oh, no, he’s not a shopper, but he does eat it at the diner all the time. He especially loves your Holiday Jam. I hope you will continue to make it year-round and not just for the holiday season,” she explained.
“It wouldn’t be Holiday Jam then, would it?” Tabby asked, smiling. “I have to keep my customers coming back, don’t I?”
“I suppose. I guess I’ll have to stock up on it while it’s still for sale so that Samuel has enough to get through the winter,” Sandy sighed.
“I’m sure he’ll find some other flavor that he likes,” Tabby replied.
“He loves any kind of jelly or jam. He grew up on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. His mom never had a lot of money after the bills, so he ate a lot of mac and cheese, bologna, and peanut butter and jelly. We have fried bologna sandwiches every Saturday night just like when he was younger,” Sandy babbled on. “You’d think after eating it so much that he’d hate it. But no, it’s his favorite meal.”
Tabby saw her chance to get some information on Samuel Benson.
“Where was his dad? He never speaks of him,” Tabby asked, hoping to stumble upon some information she didn’t already know.
“He doesn’t remember much about his dad. He left them when Samuel was a young child. His mom never talked about him and Samuel never asked questions because it upset her too much,” Sandy answered.
After their public fight the other night and everything that was said, why would she lie?
“I feel bad for my husband.”
“Why is that?”
“He was so excited about living in the house on Ball Road that his mom loved so much and now the sale has been put on hold,” Sandy lamented.
“Is that where he lived when he was young?” Tabby asked, sticking a bow on top of one of the jelly jars.
“For a short time, yes, when he was just a toddler,” she answered.
“Couldn’t he go back in the town records and find out who his dad was that way?” Tabby asked, waiting for a reaction.
“I suppose he could,” she mumbled. “I don’t think he has any interest in who his father was now.”
“That’s too bad. I never knew who my dad was and I think about it quite a bit; don’t you? Maybe he’ll change his mind as time passes,” Tabby stated.
“I doubt it,” she insisted. “And to answer your question, no. My dad left me when I was little and I have no interest in finding him what-so-ever.
“You’re all set. Here are your credit card and your receipt. Have a great day and say hi to Samuel for me,” Tabby said, smiling. “We’ll see you at the Stroll on Saturday.”
“That reminds me. Do you need any help in the shop? Samuel’s business won’t be open yet and I’ll have some free time after we finish the Stroll,” Sandy asked.
“I’m good, but thanks. Greg will be here as we
ll as Janice, so I have enough people,” Tabby answered, not telling her the truth that she didn’t want her yapping people’s ears off while they visited her shop.
“Okay, we’ll see you then,” she said.
Tabby watched her leave the shop. She hadn’t learned anything new except that Sandy was either an incredible airhead or lying to cover up for Samuel. She wondered just how much Sandy really knew about her husband.
Janice had picked up Thelma on the way to work so she wouldn’t have to walk. With both her employees in place, Tabby retired to the upstairs to cook. She decided she would take a half an hour or so to put out some Christmas decorations to make the place more festive for her company coming over that night. She was hanging twinkle lights in the front window when her mother came up the stairs to visit.
“Hi, Mom,” Tabby said. “What are you doing here?”
“Can’t a mother visit her daughter without a reason?” Samantha asked.
“Uh, yea, I guess so,” Tabby answered, climbing down out of the window to hug her mom.
“No tree yet?”
“It’s out on the back porch. It’s going up tonight,” Tabby explained. “If you have nothing to do you can come over and help decorate it.”
“I’m afraid I can’t. I came over to tell you I won’t be here for Christmas,” her mom stated. “I’m leaving tomorrow for Boston and won’t be home for two weeks.”
“What’s in Boston?”
“Do you remember that cruise I’ve been trying to get a spot on for almost two years?”
“The Haunted Cruise?”
“Yes, that one. Someone canceled on the Christmas Haunted Cruise and I was next on the waitlist. They called me a few days ago and I said yes. I just haven’t had the chance to come and tell you,” Samantha replied, smiling. “It’s a two-week cruise down through the Caribbean with mediums, psychics, and of course the spirits who haunt the ship.”
“It sounds awesome, but I will miss you on Christmas.”
“We can celebrate when I get back,” her mother insisted. “Mystic Happenings will be closed the whole time that I’m gone. Do you still have your key to the shop?”
“I have it,” Tabby said.
“Will you check on the place a couple of times while I’m gone? I don’t want any pipes bursting or anyone breaking in.”
“What happened to your alarm system?”
“I disconnected that thing long ago. I don’t want any government people tracking me through an alarm system. They can do that you know; spy on you whenever they want.”
“Okay, Mom, I will keep an eye on the store for you,” Tabby said, amused that her mother, to this day, still didn’t trust the government because of events back in the sixties.
“Give your old mom a hug,” Samantha said, reaching for her daughter. “And, if the ship sinks or anything, all my important papers are in the safe at the Sparrow Bed and Breakfast.”
“That’s not going to happen, Mom. Don’t even think like that,” Tabby lectured.
“You never know. I like to be prepared for everything, just in case.”
“I’ll see you when you get home. Have an awesome time and Merry Christmas,” Tabby said, giving her mom a huge hug. “Say hi to a ghost or two for me.”
“Tell Bea we’ll exchange our gifts when I get home. And, tell that boyfriend of yours to get you something really nice for Christmas. From what I’ve been told, he can afford it,” she said, disappearing down the stairs.
I wonder what she meant by that?
The cats followed her around as she finished decorating. Ghost was already getting into mischief, batting at the lights that were hanging on the window.
She set the tree decorations on the coffee table and then got to work cooking her jelly. Two hours later she was on her way to Mac’s Market to get all the baking supplies she needed for that night. List in hand, she went up and down the aisles throwing things in her carriage. She also wanted to pick up steaks, fresh broccoli, and sweet potatoes for supper.
“I know you don’t hold much stock in things I say, but I think you’ll like this,” Gladys Twittle said, coming up behind her at the meat counter.
“Seriously, Gladys? Haven’t we had enough trouble between us because of your gossiping?” Tabby replied, setting two packages of steaks in her carriage.
“Okay, but I think you’ll find it interesting that Jack Fletcher was caught breaking into Mrs. Piper’s house this morning,” she said anyway.
Tabby stopped what she was doing and looked at Gladys.
“I knew that would interest you,” Gladys boasted.
“And how do you know this?” Tabby asked.
“I kind of overheard Sheriff Puckett talking to Deputy Small outside The Tilted Coffee Cup at lunch time,” she answered.
“You were listening in on other people’s conversations again. Didn’t you learn your lesson last time you were thrown out of somewhere for made-up gossip?”
“This wasn’t made up. It came directly from Sheriff Puckett’s own mouth,” Gladys insisted, defending herself.
“And why would this interest me, Gladys?”
“I saw the way you watched Dave Tullinson and Jack Fletcher at the memorial service and then later at the house,” the queen of gossip answered.
Geez, she doesn’t miss anything.
“I don’t miss anything,” Gladys boasted, as if reading Tabby’s mind. “Check with the sheriff if you don’t believe me. He’ll tell you that I’m right.”
“I have to run. Janice needs to take her lunch hour. Bye, Gladys,” Tabby said, pushing her carriage away quickly before Gladys could say anything else or ask her why she had been watching the two men.
What was Jack Fletcher doing at the Piper house? If she hurried, she might be able to catch the sheriff when he came in for his afternoon coffee.
Thelma left for the day the same time Janice went to lunch. Tabby told Janice to tack on an extra fifteen minutes on her break for driving Thelma home first. Wednesday was always the slowest business day of the week. Tabby pushed back the lace curtains that hid the work space so she could pack up some boxes that needed to be mailed, but still be able to see most of the main shopping space.
A few customers came in and made good size purchases that helped boost the day’s receipts. The bell on the door rang again, this time announcing Sheriff Puckett’s arrival for his daily coffee fill-up.
“Hello, Sheriff,” Tabby said, smiling. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” he answered, pouring his coffee.
“That’s not what Gladys said,” Tabby said, chuckling.
“So, you already know about Fletcher?” he asked.
“Yes, I do. What was Fletcher doing in the Piper house?”
“He claims that he was trying to get some tools that he left there that he needed for a current job that he’s working on out at Tricia Gracious’ place.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I asked him why he didn’t just call Betsy to let him into the house to get them. He claims he called her at least five times in the last two days and she never called him back.”
“Did he call her?”
“Yes, she let me listen to all the messages on her phone. He did call her like he said.”
“Is he really working for Tricia?”
“Yes, she verified that also.”
“Then what’s bothering you?” Tabby asked.
“When we found him, he was upstairs in the first bedroom, not in the cellar where he was doing the work on the house,” Sheriff Puckett answered. “There were no tools upstairs, anywhere.”
“He was looking for Carl Bender’s secret room,” Tabby stated.
“Excuse me?”
“Betsy showed me a secret room that is behind the fireplace in the first bedroom. Her mother had discovered it while searching the house for the money. Carl Bender supposedly built it to hide the money and himself from the police. Her mother had ripped the room apart, but never found the money,” Tabby
explained.
“You knew about this secret room and didn’t say anything to me?
“Betsy asked me not to.”
“Betsy asked you not to,” the sheriff repeated, shaking his head. “From now on, you need to tell me things like this. You can’t be hiding information that could affect the outcome of the case.”
“I’m sorry. I promise; no more holding back anything I find out on my own.”
“I hope not. So, he wasn’t there for tools. How did he know the secret room was off that specific bedroom?”
“Do you want to know what I think?” Tabby inquired.
“Run it by me,” he said, drinking his coffee.
“I believe that Dave Tullinson and Jack Fletcher were Carl Bender’s two accomplices in the robbery. I think that after the robbery, Carl Bender hid the money and died without ever telling either one where it was. They stayed in town and have been looking for it ever since.”
“That’s quite a theory.”
“I can’t prove it yet, but I’m working on it.”
“May I remind you that is my job? I know you like to help, and I appreciate it. We are dealing with dangerous people here and you need to let me take care of this investigation.”
“But, then there’s the fact that Samuel Benson might really be Carl Bender’s son.”
“I’ve been checking him out ever since Richard Wells told me he was Carl Bender’s son.”
“Mr. Wells told you that?”
“You’re not the only person in this town that people confide in, you know,” the sheriff answered in a huff. “He wanted me to do a background check on him. After the problems he had with Larry Fink, he wants to be sure he can trust Samuel Benson to look after things while he plays snowbird in Florida for the winter.”
“He didn’t so much confide in me as he wanted my opinion of what I thought about Samuel Benson because I knew him,” Tabby explained, trying to ease the tension in the room.
“Your theory does make sense; it would tie in Dave Tullinson’s murder as well,” Sheriff Puckett said, scratching his chin like he always did when he was thinking. “If Tullinson and Fletcher were the two accomplices, then the driver could also be someone living in town.”
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