Death by Crockpot

by Linda West

  “Kat do you remember what time it was that you saw the person outside of Jackson’s house?” asked Ethel. “The Detective is sure to ask you that, and it's going to be important to absolve Carol.”

  I thought about it. “Well, we hadn't won the semifinals yet, and we were out of chili, so I went out to have a cigarette.” I glared at both of them. “Again don't tell my dad about that… so maybe 6:45? I think we should take notes…”

  I pulled out my phone, but Ethel and Dodie’s heads both shot up.

  “No!” they cried in unison. I looked back and forth between them, and put my cell phone away.

  Ethel continued. “First of all I think better when I'm using my hands and writing something down. Old fashioned I know, but it's worked for hundreds of years and that's what I'm going to use.”

  Dodie nodded emphatically, as she scooped the scrambled eggs onto three plates, and sprinkled some fresh crumbled Greek feta and bright orange carnelian edible flowers on top. “No cell writing for sure, there's that whatever electronic trail thing to consider,” she added.

  I shrugged my shoulders. Okay, whatever. I had no idea about electronic trails but they won't let that Snowden guy back in the country after he said everyone’s spying on us. For all we know the toaster is taking down everything we say right now.

  “Good old pen and paper sound good to me,” I said.

  I stood up and grabbed one of the waitress’ checkbooks and a pen from the back counter, looking at the toaster in a whole new light. I sat back down and got down to business. I wrote:

  “#1 Way to Get Carol Free: Find the other suspect at the scene. Got it.”

  I looked at Ethel and a thought occurred to me.

  “When Fuzzbottom was arresting Carol she told me that she went to Jackson's house because he sent her a note.”

  Ethel nodded. “Yes some man in the crowd handed Summer a note with Carol’s name on it and Jackson’s family seal. Summer told me.”

  She looked at Dodie and me and continued. “Jackson always uses a red wax to seal his important letters. That way people can’t just lick it and reseal. Who has a problem with that I wouldn’t know but that was his reasoning. Anyways Summer gave it to Carol right before she ran out the door for the backup crockpots from the van.”

  “Bingo!” I said. “Last night when they were arresting her – Aunt Carol said that the note said something about it being a – life and death situation– and he had her crockpot hostage!”

  Ethel’s blue eye’s illuminated with an idea. “That letter is all we need to show she was put at the scene not that she proactively went after Jackson! So where is the letter? Did she tell you Kat?”

  I shook my head. I wondered why Carol hadn’t produced the letter herself to avoid arrest.

  We all looked at each other. Where was the letter? That was a good question. Dodie served us the breakfast and sat down with us to figure out the puzzle. I refilled our coffee cups from the carafe.

  Ethel folded her napkin on her lap like a true lady; I just dug in and started shoveling, because I’m not. I took another bite of Dodie’s eggs and swooned. Good grief these women could cook like a dream.

  Dodie took a bite of her scrambled eggs and nodded in approval. A thought hit her and she looked up at us. “But, wasn’t the letter on Carol’s person somewhere? Shouldn't the detective have found that letter and put it in evidence?”

  Ethel took a sip of her tea and considered it. “Yes – if they found it. The only evidence they seem to have is the crockpot – which isn’t good.”

  Dodie thought about it.

  “Maybe it fell out of her pocket. You were there Kat – did you see any letter on the ground?”

  I flashed back on the scene and nibbled on the fresh scone Dodie had baked to accompany the eggs.

  “…There were lots of pots and pans, and stuff on the floor like someone had been looking for something, but I didn’t notice any piece of paper in that mix…then again, the guy croaked by the crockpot was kind of taking up all my attention. So who knows? Poor old man.”

  I shook my head at the memory. I couldn’t dispel the thought of those bright red carrots in his shock white hair. I made a note never to put carrots in my chili again.

  Ethel pondered our next move. “In this situation in the show, Jessica always goes back and searches the crime scene. The police CSI team should've been doing that last night.”

  “So then they might've found the letter?” I asked hopefully.

  We all looked at each other. Carol was still in jail. If the letter was discovered, surely she would've made bail.

  Ethel continued. “I think we need to go back to Jackson’s house, and find that note – then we have some real proof that could surely clear Carol's name!”

  I wasn’t really relishing going back in that creepy house – for all I knew the corpse was still in there. But, Ethel was on a roll and had the detective background. She turned to me and asked. “What time do you have to go down to six Pines to talk to the detective?”

  I took another bite of the heavenly breakfast Dodie had just whipped up easy peasy. It was delicious and I didn’t taste one bit of liquor in it. Oh she was good.

  I pointed to my plate enthusiastically. “Really please tell me we can put this on the new menu for the Enchanted Cozy Café – it’s awesome!”

  Ethel turned her nose down at me. “Stay focused Kat. What time is your appointment today?”

  Dodie winked at me.

  “He said to come in around two o'clock.”

  Ethel smiled. “Since you can’t drive yourself, I think I should take you.”

  “If you want to drive me there that would be great.”

  Dodie put her fork down.

  “Wait, isn't the police station on the same block as the Pavilion Center…?”

  My eyes lit up.

  “… And the same block as Jackson Jennings’ house…”

  Ethel’s eyes were gleaming now.

  “We're going to go early, and we're going to going to get into Jackson's house somehow, and see if we can find that letter and free Carol!”

  As little as I wanted to engage in breaking and entering a murder scene – I knew the answer to freeing Carol might be in that house. I had to agree with Ethel. We needed to get back into Jackson’s house and find out who wanted him killed, and find that letter to prove Carol’s innocence.

  “I’ll pick you up at 12:00 and we’ll go,” said Ethel.

  I nodded. I also wasn’t really looking forward into running into Fuzzbottom again. At least now I would have a sweet senior with me as social camouflage so maybe he’d be nicer.

  Maybe.

  CHAPTER 21

  Ethel rolled up in front of my house at around noon and beeped the bakery van horn three times to signal to me that it was her. As if I’d made plans with someone else.

  It was a clear day in Kissing Bridge, and the temperature wasn’t freezing so I didn’t need a scarf. I decided to let Aphrodite come with me anyway because she loved to drive in the car, and because I thought I might appear more sympathetic to Fuzzbottom.

  Some guys have a weakness for cute kittens; I’ve seen it happen before. Aphrodite always drew admiration for her beauty. Maybe her baby blues could woo Fuzzbottom if mine couldn’t.

  Soon we are on way down the hill in the bakery van, and headed towards Six Pines Valley.

  We were both kind of excited about our first breaking and entering – with good cause mind you – and we were warming up to the idea of being amateur sleuths.

  We had debated the best way to sneak in to Jackson’s house. I suggested to Ethel that she could act like a crazy old forgetful woman who thought it was her house and she had misplaced her keys – “Oh, the woes of losing one’s memory” – and all that. Ethel just wanted me to sing really loudly while she broke a window with Earl’s grandson’s baseball bat.

  In the end we didn’t need to use either of our awesome ideas. Dr. Branson Archibald, Carol’s husband, had stopped
by the bakery later that morning to bring Ethel up to speed on the investigation. He confirmed that no note had been found, and yes it was important. Seems Carol still had the key to Jackson’s house on her keying – clearly marked – in her dresser drawer. Not good for the Six Pines investigators to know, but it sure made it easier for us to get in.

  CHAPTER 22

  We parked a couple blocks away from the main street where Jackson’s house and the police station were. Jackson’s land actually spanned miles, but the house was smack in the middle of the populated downtown Six Pines.

  We had both worn drab clothes so as not to pull any un-needed attention to ourselves. Other than the white cat I was wearing around my neck and the baseball bat Ethel insisted she use as an old lady cane prop/possible weapon, we looked perfectly normal.

  The main street in Six Pines was called Six Pines Alley. As you can imagine, it was lined with rows of towering pines that seemed to protect the little historic cobbled street packed with quaint shops and some wealthy homes. The pines’ green needles were vibrant against the backdrop of the white-capped Kissing Bridge Mountains. Too bad the trees hadn’t done much good protecting old Mr. Jennings.

  That said, they were great cover for us. Ethel and I snuck in through the back forest and unlocked the old door quietly. The house was creepily quiet and had the feeling of emptiness. Despite the fact that Jackson had money, his house was sparsely furnished in an old fashioned colonial style – really, who has that kind of taste? It looked like his mother and father had bought it and he never replaced it after their deaths. Maybe he was sentimental. Most likely he was cheap like everybody said, especially his waitresses.

  Only dim light bled through drawn curtains and an air of dust and death stifled me. I put my hand over my mouth because I thought I might barf. Ethel seemed fine with the possibility of turning the corner and seeing Jackson’s dead body still lying there, but I felt queasy.

  We made our way slowly into the kitchen, dreading the scene before us.

  Jackson's body was no longer there, thankfully, but the chili and disheveled contents of the cabinets and kitchen items still littered the ground. Now stark yellow tape marked off the area where Jackson’s body had lain like in an episode of CSI.

  There's a really creepy feeling when you're in a place that somebody was murdered in. I know I had been there when he was just killed, but there had been so much activity, it was hard to feel anything at the time but shock. Now walking into the scene of the crime again, the enormity of what had happened and the finality of it made me choke up.

  Who had done this to this poor old man?

  Ethel whispered for us to branch out and cover the paths Carol might have taken on the way in. I was going to go out through the front door and come up the path. From there I would climb the rickety front porch stairs and try and retrace Carol’s steps. Ethel was starting with the kitchen and working backwards, prepared to scour every inch of the path that Carol had traversed.

  The note could have fallen out anywhere in the house. For that matter, it could've fallen out on the street! I peeled my eyes to the ground and looked back and forth as I made my way up the old porch stairs. They were wooden with spaces between them where you could see the dark ground beneath the deck. I peered into the darkness between the cracks but I couldn’t spot a thing. I continued up the stairs, sneaking a look down the cobbled street, which luckily was deserted. The steps used to be gray, but they had been painted over with a deep green. You could still see the old color through the worn off spots of green. It looked like nobody loved this house. I hadn't even known that Jackson had a residence in Six Pines. He had been staying up at Eagle Peak Lodge as long as anyone could remember.

  I next pursued the stale-smelling living room. It wasn't long before I was in the kitchen and face-to-face with Ethel. She looked at me with a hopeful look. I shook my head.

  Where could it be, where could it be?

  And what would Jessica do in this situation?

  I felt the need to whisper for some reason. “If we can’t find the note itself, maybe we can find the person who handed Summer the note in the first place? That might be enough to clear her. Did Summer say what the person looked like who handed her the note?”

  Ethel shook her head and leaned on her cane/bat.

  “She doesn’t remember much. She was so busy signing autographs she can’t remember the face.”

  A loud thud pounded from the old ceiling above us. We flinched. Somebody was upstairs. I grabbed onto Ethel. “What was that?”

  She put her finger to her mouth and motioned me to hide behind the curtains with her.

  Helena, Jackson’s sister, and her son Frankie thundered down the second floor stairs. I recognized them from the night they came storming into the café with him.

  “What are you two doing here?!” Frankie barked.

  I glanced at Ethel behind the curtain and shrugged. We both looked down to see our feet sticking out of the bottom of the curtains. Aphrodite chose that moment to be a total traitor and let out a loud MEEOW. I’m pretty sure Jessica Fletcher never hid so ineptly.

  I pulled the curtains back. The gig was up. We looked at them, and they looked at us. “What are you doing here, Helena?” Ethel said irritated.

  Helena was indignant. “I grew up in this house! I was looking for something that's mine that I can't find and it’s…it’s none of your business! What are you doing here?!”

  Before we could answer, yet another voice alarmed us – this one deep and male. “People! What are you all doing here? This is a crime scene!” We all looked at each other.

  Jaime Henderson was standing at the door in his uniform. He stared at us incredulously and then took a slow step inside. “I was just stopping by the Six Pines station to give my story and I thought I passed the bakery van parked a few blocks back. I was hoping I was wrong. Kat –Ethel, you can’t just go breaking into a crime scene!”

  Jaime eyed Ethel’s cane/bat suspiciously. I figured that was our cue to go. I grabbed Ethel’s arm as if I was aiding her and she shook me off and gave me the look. I guess she was done acting helpless.

  “You’re not helping Carol’s case by breaking and entering,” said Jamie.

  Ethel murmured under her breath, “We had the key.”

  I elbowed her to keep her mouth shut. Jaime wasn’t turning us in, but if we got caught here by Fuzzbottom it might be another story.

  “Come on. You too folks.” Jaime waved for Helena and Frankie to follow us out.

  “This is my family home and I still have personal items here that I would like to retrieve.” Helena crossed her arms.

  Jaime guided us out the door. “Family or not, this is still an active investigation, and I’m sure they’ll grant you access after they’re done.”

  He pushed us all out into the sunlight with both hands. Then Jaime locked the door to Jackson’s house behind him, and we were all left standing outside looking at each other. What a failure. We hadn’t found the letter, and I had to go talk to Fuzzbottom.

  CHAPTER 23

  Soon I was face-to-face across from Fuzzbottom, and actually he was even more unattractive the third time around. The lights in the Six Pines’ police station are not flattering, I don't know if their fluorescent or some special horrible looking bulbs that are purposely meant to make you look extra bad. Maybe they were supposed to make you look like a con? I could only imagine what I looked like if Fuzzbottom looked that bad. Plus, the bags under his eyes were so deep it appeared he had been on a drinking binge. His cheeks were flushed too red, with breaking capillaries which bespoke an Irish heritage. I had seen that look before. However, I don't drink until my face turns red, and chunky because I'm vain.

  Obviously Fuzzbottom had given up on his looks a while ago, although he didn’t look much older than twenty-five. I noticed that his neck looked extra hairy now that I was sitting across from him. I could see that his hair actually stuck out from the bottom of his shirt cuffs, a good half-inch long
and onto his hands.

  Yuck. I wanted to gag. I couldn’t imagine being his poor girlfriend being fondled with those hairy hands.

  He eyed Aphrodite wrapped around my neck, purring, but he looked away from her beguiling gaze and got down to business.

  “Let’s start from the beginning.”

  I squirmed in the uncomfortable chair. “So we were all at the big chili cook-off. Carol went to get her backup crockpot out of the van, but she never came back. I’m sure that’s why she went over to Jackson’s house.”

  Det. Fuzzbottom studied me closely, and his muddy eyes seemed to distrust me.

  “So you knew Carol was going over there to kill Jackson.” He stated it as a fact.

  “Wha–no! I said I knew Carol must be somewhere, and the only thing I knew was that Jackson had sent her some ominous note about kidnapping her crockpot and a matter of life or death….”

  He stopped me. “What note?”

  “Jackson has a special red insignia seal that he puts on all his letters. Someone gave a note from him to Summer to give to Carol. But didn’t you find the note in your investigation? Carol told her husband she had it in her pocket. Did you check her coat?”