Fruit of All Evil

by Paige Shelton

  As these thoughts collided in my mind, a nugget of a plan began to take shape. What if—just what if—the crime was solved in a few days? Maybe—just maybe—Linda and Drew could still get married before he left. I knew the way to the justice of the peace. I could drive them there. It was probably a silly idea, but Linda’s blush reinforced how much the two of them wanted to be together, and how just this morning it had been of the utmost importance that they marry before Drew left.

  I wasn’t going to voice my thoughts to Linda. At the moment they were more like pulses of thought that weren’t fully formed anyway. Plus, they were probably the result of the guilt I felt over my lack of excitement over being asked to be her Number One.

  “Linda, take a deep breath. Good. One more. Good. Sam will solve this quickly. All will be well.”

  “I hope so. I appreciate your optimism.” Linda laughed awkwardly and wiped away a stray tear. “Hey, speaking of Sam, you need to get out of here before he finds you talking to me. He was pretty clear on wanting us all separated.”

  I quickly hugged her again. “Call me tomorrow or later tonight if you need to talk.”

  “Thanks, Becca.”

  I left Linda and made my way down the empty hall. I’d told Sam I wasn’t going to investigate Madeline’s murder, but my mind was changing. Even though I was confident that the blush on her cheeks gave me accurate information, I still wasn’t one hundred percent sure that Drew wasn’t involved in the murder. I didn’t know Linda wasn’t, either, but I held onto my doubt. Sam was great at his job, but there were plenty of things I could look into without getting in his way. If the murder was solved before Drew left, he and Linda could go on with their lives, and I wouldn’t have to worry about my friend marrying a killer.

  I passed the restrooms on my left. On my right was the interview room. I couldn’t resist, so I stopped and put my ear to the door. I could hear voices, but the only distinguishing feature I could make out was that there was one male voice and one female voice. Other than that, I heard nothing. I didn’t think I needed to be caught in such a pose, so I moved along.

  The door to the station, where everyone else was, was closed as well. I pulled the paper towel out of my pocket, opened the door, and made my way through as I wiped my hands on the towel.

  Sally, Mid and Officer Sanford were still in the room, but Shawn, Drew and Officer Norton were nowhere to be seen. I deduced that the female voice I’d heard in the interview room must have been Officer Norton, but I didn’t know who was attached to the male voice. Ian was still sitting across from Sam. His eyes flashed surprise, but only briefly. He knew that showing surprise wasn’t wise. He’d be in cahoots with me even if he wasn’t sure exactly what he was in cahoots about.

  Sam, though, was keenly observant of everyone and everything. He turned and looked at me with one eyebrow high. Suddenly he was angry.

  “Becca, what were you doing? How did you get back there?” he asked.

  “Using the restroom.” I threw the paper towel in a gray metal garbage can next to an unoccupied desk.

  “I didn’t see you walk past. Why didn’t you just use the restroom in the hallway?”

  I shrugged and continued walking. I was sure I’d have to discuss this further with him. He was a police officer, after all, but he was pretty busy at the moment. I walked purposefully and innocently past them.

  “I’ll be out in the truck, Ian,” I said.

  He nodded.

  I kept walking and didn’t look at anyone else. Before I knew it, I was in the hallway and no one was chasing me. I hurried toward the stairway but skidded to a waxedlinoleum stop and turned around.

  I’d almost forgotten! And I had to know. I ran to the end of the dark hall and tried to pull up the window. It didn’t budge. I stood on my tip-toes and looked at the lock. My face burned in guilty fear when I saw that the lock was securely back in place. Someone had seen what I was doing and had locked me out—left me to stand on the ledge.

  Or had they locked me out with the hope that I’d fall off the ledge and onto the hard ground of the courtyard?

  Who? The killer?

  Oh, yes, I was most definitely back in the detective business.

  Eight

  As Ian got in the truck, before he could ask me any questions, I asked him about his interview with Sam.

  “Sam believed that Madeline and I hadn’t spoken and that I hadn’t reached her yet. I didn’t save her message, but it was a quick one. She just said to call her back. When I told him why we’d been in contact, he was interested more in Bud Morris’s situation than in me. At the moment, I think he has a lot of potential suspects, and bank customers are probably high on his list.”

  “What about Drew or Linda or anyone else at the party?”

  “As suspects?”

  “Yes.”

  “He didn’t share anything with me, but he did ask me again about everyone’s behavior at dinner. I told him the same things I told him when he talked to me at Madeline’s. I said that aside from Drew and Linda, I thought they were an unusual bunch, but what bunch isn’t? We didn’t spend enough time together to know much about any of them.”

  “Yeah, I thought the same thing. They’re odd, but not in a murderous way.”

  “Whatever that is,” Ian said.

  “Good point. We never really know for sure, do we?”

  “The good news is that apparently both our alibis are airtight.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “You want to tell me why you came out of the back hallway?” Ian asked after a beat.

  “Oh, that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I won’t go into detail how I got there, just in case you’re ever forced to testify against me for some reason or another”—I smiled—“but I made my way back to the holding cells and the interview room. I couldn’t hear what was being said in the interview room, but Linda was in an unlocked holding cell and I talked to her a minute. In no particular order, the wedding’s off, Drew’s still leaving, and I think I believe her when she says that she and Drew were together the entire afternoon until the dinner, and they couldn’t have killed Madeline.” I didn’t want to tell Ian about the window because he’d be both annoyed and concerned, and he’d be very concerned if I told him how it had been locked again.

  “I’m sorry about the wedding, but I understand. I’m perplexed that Drew is still leaving, but I suspect that’s only because he hasn’t processed everything totally. Give him a day or two, and he might rethink that—but considering what he does, I don’t know if he’ll be given the option. And why do you believe that Linda and Drew were together?”

  “The way she blushed,” I said.

  “Oh. Well, that is pretty fail safe.” Ian smiled. “I guess I’m glad they got to spend a fun afternoon together before everything hit the fan.”

  “It was way better than fun,” I said.

  “She really, really blushed?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good.”

  We were both silent a moment. I drummed my fingers on my leg and then finally spoke. “I was going to pick up Hobbit and head home. But my inventory for my short day tomorrow is ready to go. Maybe we could just stay with you tonight and I’ll go get the inventory early.”

  “That sounds like a great idea,” Ian said.

  We gathered Hobbit from in front of George’s fireplace and made a hasty path to Ian’s apartment above his studio.

  Hobbit had become accustomed to our ways, so after her momentary happy greeting, she managed to ignore us as we forgot about the recent strain in our relationship and the gruesome murder, and worked on turning our own blush factor up to high. We were successful.

  We were awake a good hour before the sun rose. Ian had a piece of art to install, so he went in one direction, and after Hobbit and I made sure George had plenty of coffee and eggs, we headed to my farm.

  The temperature was perfect again, and I rolled down my window. It wasn’t going to be too hot or to
o cool today. Winters weren’t all that terrible in South Carolina, but the warming spring temperatures would bring a big crowd to Bailey’s today. By the time we got home, the sun was almost up, and despite all the horribleness of the night before, I felt a big dose of spring fever coming on.

  I’d already started my pumpkin seeds, and the plants were sprouting from small peat pots in my kitchen. My pumpkin preserves were becoming so popular that I’d started more pumpkin seeds than ever before. I was close to needing a greenhouse. If I started selling product at Maytabee’s, I’d have to invest in one very soon.

  I was eager to dig in the dirt, plant the pumpkin sprouts, and watch them grow. And my strawberry plants were in terrific shape. The berries would be ready to pick very soon, and if looks were any indication, I was going to have another delicious crop.

  I loaded up my inventory for the short day I’d planned and then took Hobbit for a quick run. When we were done, and as she and I surveyed my land from beside the barn, my fingers tingled with anticipation. Hobbit felt it, too, as she lifted her nose into the air and took a couple of good whiffs. We spent lots of time outside during the growing season, and it was difficult to say which one of us enjoyed it more.

  “I know, girl, pretty soon now,” I said as I scratched that perfect spot behind her left ear.

  She smiled.

  The sound of tires on gravel got our attention, and Hobbit put one of her long paws on my foot, both to inform me that we had a visitor and to assure me that she’d let me know if he or she was okay.

  The tires were attached to Drew’s Honda, but he wasn’t the driver. Instead, the blond, less awesome version of him—his cousin Alan—steered the car down the driveway’s slope toward me and Hobbit.

  Why was he at my house at this early hour? How did he know where I lived? Was Linda okay?

  “It’s all right, girl. I know him. Sort of,” I said. Hobbit hesitantly pulled her paw off my foot. The tone of my voice wasn’t as confident as either she or I would have liked.

  Alan parked the Honda and got out. He was dressed in jeans and a golf shirt and flip-flops that snapped at his heels as he made his way toward me.

  “Becca, hello. Alan Cummings. Drew’s cousin,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Hi, Alan. I remember. Hey, I’m sorry about your aunt. You okay? And what’s up? Where’re Drew and Linda?” I fired the questions quickly and then cleared my throat.

  “Thank you. Yes, everyone’s fine. Sorry I’m here so early. Linda said I should get here before you took off for Bailey’s.” He was close to me, too close. I didn’t like him in my personal space, and I tried to step back nonchalantly. He stepped with me.

  “What’s up?” I repeated.

  “Linda has a horrible migraine, so she’s not going in to Bailey’s today, but she has some orders that are scheduled to be picked up. She wondered if you’d take care of them for her.”

  “Of course. Let me back my truck up to your car, and we can load them in the back. How many are there?” I tried to hide my relief. Linda hadn’t been arrested and was okay, other than having a headache. I’d call her later to see how she was feeling, and to make sure she was really all right.

  “Twelve.”

  “Wow,” I said.

  “Yes, wow. Apparently she had most of them baked before . . . well, before everything last night, but she stayed up practically all night finishing them.”

  “Darn it! I wish I’d thought about that. I could have helped.”

  Alan smiled. I knew he meant it to be a friendly smile, but it didn’t sit right with me. Why did he turn on my inner alarm bells? “We all offered to help, but she insisted on doing everything herself.” His tone was almost spiteful.

  “Did anyone get arrested last night?” I asked.

  Alan’s eyebrows rose. “No, I’m pretty sure the police think that one of the bank’s customers, someone who was foreclosed on, is the killer. I think that’s the angle they’re exploring right now.”

  I nodded, and studied Alan for some sign of . . . something. What was it? Was it that he looked so much like Drew but wasn’t Drew? I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  “Again, I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you. I think I’m still in shock over the whole thing.”

  “I understand. Hey, girl, go over there, please,” I said to Hobbit, who obeyed and went to sit on the porch. I got in my truck and adjusted the rearview mirror so that I could watch Alan as I backed toward the Honda.

  He was looking toward my strawberry plants until I got close enough that he signaled me to stop.

  “Becca, you have some beautiful land,” Alan said as I hopped out of the truck and pulled down the tailgate.

  “Thanks.”

  “Any thought of selling it?”

  I laughed. “Not even one. I love it here, and I hope I never leave.”

  “You never know who might offer you the right price,” he said, but his voice wasn’t friendly.

  “The right price doesn’t exist,” I replied too firmly.

  “Sure,” Alan said, shrugging.

  He opened the Honda’s trunk, and we were enveloped with delicious fruity scents.

  “Yum. I hope I can manage to hold on to these until the customers come for them. I love Linda’s pies,” I said as we transferred the boxes to the truck. Before long, the bed of the truck was loaded with Linda’s pies and my jams.

  “Thanks, Becca,” Alan said as he closed the Honda’s trunk. “Oh, hey, I saw you in an unexpected place last night.”

  I froze. Naturally, the moment that I felt most guilty about popped into my mind. Had he seen me on the ledge? He had his hands on his hips but was no longer in my personal space. Had he come to my house to confront me about my spying ways? Was he dangerous? Could I get in my truck and leave before he could do something to me? Would I leave Hobbit with someone dangerous? No.

  “Oh, yeah?” I said.

  “Yeah, you and Ian were turning onto . . . Harvard, I think that was the street. I’d just left the police station.”

  “Yes!” I said too enthusiastically. “Yes, Ian lives on Harvard.”

  “I thought it was you.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You must have been in Ian’s truck last night. I would have remembered yours. It’s great. I love the color.”

  “Thanks,” I said, still trying to hide my relief and my odd uncomfortable feelings about him.

  He’d complimented my land and my truck. I still didn’t trust him, but if he said something outstanding about Hobbit, I might actually have to try to like him—if he didn’t give me the willies so much. Why did he set off my radar?

  He walked to the driver’s side door of Drew’s Honda. “Hey, thanks for doing this for Linda. She said she’ll call you when she can hold her head up and open her eyes.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  “See you later, Becca.” Alan got in the car and drove away.

  Hobbit was by my side the second the car was out of sight. She whined and put her paw back on my foot.

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve got to get a grip, huh?” There was something about him that still bothered me. I tried to shrug it off as a feeling that was the result of meeting someone at a dinner party where a dead body was found. But there was something more, and Hobbit sensed it, too. She whined again.

  “Come on,” I said, “I’ve got to get to work.” There was no more time to waste. I made sure Hobbit was taken care of for the morning and took off for Bailey’s.

  As I drove down the state highway, I wished that there was someone in Drew’s family I could talk to, really talk to. My relationship with him had been built around two new couples: Drew and Linda, and Ian and me. We’d been getting to know each other, but we were still so newly coupled that we wanted to spend more time as separate couples instead of as one of two couples.

  I wanted to better understand Drew and his family dynamics. Had Madeline really had a soft side, as Linda had mentioned? What had Linda meant about Drew
and Madeline not having much of a relationship? What did Drew’s cousins really think about their aunt? Our dinner had been so brief.

  Alan, Shawn, and Mid might be strange, but there could be numerous reasons behind their strangeness. If Allison, the human nature specialist, had taught me anything, it was that you never know what happened in a person’s life the second before they came in contact with you. Until you understood what they’d been through, you could never truly understand why they did the things they did in the present.

  I thought Sally was the strangest one of the bunch—too emotional and melancholy. None of the rest of her family made much of her behavior, though. I didn’t notice anyone roll their eyes or sigh impatiently when she teared up. I also didn’t see anyone shocked by her behavior. Was she always like that, or was last night unique? Was she emotional and melancholy because she’d just killed her aunt?

  Because of the strange dynamics among the family members the night before, I wasn’t ready to think the killer had been a bank customer. I hoped that would be the case, but at this point any information could be helpful.

  I could approach any of them under the pretext of curiosity or friendly conversation, but I decided I’d try to talk to Sally first. At the moment, it was her behavior that made me the most curious.

  I filed a plan to call her later as I pulled into the U-shaped loading/unloading area of Bailey’s and followed tire ruts to the back of my stall. As I parked, I noticed that the market was already getting customers. The beautiful weather and the spreading spring fever would definitely draw a big crowd.

  “Can I help you with that?” Allison appeared beside my truck.

  “Hey, Sis. Sure, but don’t you have something more important and managerial to do?”

  “I’m being managerial. Drew called to let me know you were helping Linda. I said I’d come help you.”

  “I’ll take the help.”

  “I thought maybe I’d hear from you last night.” Allison lifted two pies out of the truck. “I talked to Ian this morning. You were at a dinner where someone—Madeline Forsyth!—was found brutally murdered, and you didn’t think to fill in your own sister.”