Murder and Marshmallows

by Rosie A. Point

  “Jamie, it’s not like that.” It kind of was like that. Bee and I couldn’t help ourselves when it came to mysteries. “Surely you can understand? You used to be a detective.”

  “Used to be,” he said. “And need I remind you that I know what it’s like to have people interfering in my investigations. It’s not nice.” We had been the ones interfering in his investigation.

  “You didn’t seem to mind at the time. You even asked us for help.”

  Jamie shut his eyes for a second. “I’m disappointed,” he said. “But do what you want, Ruby. You’re going to anyway. It doesn’t matter how I feel about the matter.”

  “That’s not true,” I whispered. “It does matter. That’s why I’m telling you the truth now. I shouldn’t have kept it a secret from you, but—”

  “Save it,” Jamie said. “Look, I need some time to cool off. I’ll talk to you later, OK? I’m going to go out and get something to eat at a café.” And with that, he marched off, and my stomach twisted itself into ragged knots.

  How could I have been so selfish? He was right, of course. I should’ve listened to him, at least told him the truth from the start, or maybe never have gotten involved in the first place. But the temptation was too great. I had literally tripped over Henry’s body. The event had stuck with me and…

  Were those just excuses?

  I was starting to doubt myself.

  “Jamie!” I called. “Please, wait!”

  But he’d already reached his Porsche. He got in and drove off.

  Jamie had paid for everything regarding this little getaway, and I’d done nothing but fritter away what was meant to be a fun time together.

  I entered the dining area, my throat clogged with emotion, and took a seat opposite Bee.

  She winced. “Didn’t go well?”

  “Understatement.”

  “Sorry, Rubes.” Bee buttered a piece of toast and placed it in front of me. “Eat something. It will make you feel better.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  “What did he say?” Bee asked.

  “That he was disappointed. Other things too.” I pressed my knuckles into my forehead. “Oh Bee, am I just the most selfish person in existence? I shouldn’t have lied. And we shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

  “No.” Bee shook her head, emphatically. “That’s not fair, Ruby. You’re not selfish. You agreed to come on a vacation and so did I, but at no point did we agree that we would do absolutely everything Jamie wanted us to. He’s not our boss, for heaven’s sake. We were intrigued, and we didn’t want to upset him by telling him that we’d been checking out the case, so we kept it from him. We both did, not just you.”

  “But—”

  “Look, Jamie will cool down and come to his senses. He likes you for who you are, Ruby, and who you are is an ex-investigative journalist who can’t keep your nose out of other people’s business.”

  “Gee thanks.”

  Bee showed me her gap-toothed grin. “My point is, he knew that about you all along, and while, sure, it could be argued that interfering in investigations is irresponsible, Jamie can’t change you. He can’t tell you what to do. And him being disappointed… well, shouldn’t he have seen this coming? He’s been friends with you for ages now, and you’ve spoken at length with him about these cases.”

  The more she spoke, the better I felt. I picked up the toast and tore off a piece before depositing it in my mouth. “I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t have lied, but I’m not going to change who I am or what I like to do either.”

  “Exactly. Now,” Bee said, and took a sip of her coffee. “Let’s enjoy our breakfast and talk about what we discovered. I’ve been dying to get into it ever since we left the butcher’s house.”

  “But what is there to get into?” I asked, eating another piece of toast. I still felt poorly about Jamie, but Bee was right. I wasn’t about to stop an investigation because he wanted me to. “I feel like we don’t know much. Everything’s confused.”

  “Right.” Bee wriggled her nose. “So Sherry and Horatio don’t want us interfering. Horatio had dirt under his fingernails.”

  “Highly suspicious given that the body was buried.”

  “And Sherry may or may not have inherited money. Rumor has it they were broke, but we need more information on that.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Go on.”

  “Miranda, the butcher’s wife, definitely had an affair with Henry and was upset about it. She claimed her husband killed Henry, but the husband, Carl, only found out recently.”

  “And then there’s the glassblower who tried to sink the baker’s business,” I said. “And he had muddy boots.”

  Bee rubbed her temples. “You’re right. It’s way too complicated.”

  “So, what do we do?” I asked. “Which lead do we follow? And how do we follow a lead when, apparently, everybody in town thinks we’re interfering biddies?”

  Bee rolled her eyes. “That Sherry…”

  We fell silent, though, and our server came over to ask us if we needed anything else. After, Bee and I got up and fetched plates from the end of the buffet table. We proceeded down the table and loaded up with food. The spread was fantastic, but I hardly noticed what I’d taken.

  Between Jamie and the case, I was in a state of stress.

  Back at our table, Bee placed her napkin over her lap and leaned her elbows either side of her plate. “What we do,” she said, “is get back on the food truck this afternoon and find out what we can about the suspects. Somebody has to know something. Or have seen something important.”

  “That’s assuming they want to talk to us.”

  Bee flapped a hand at me. “Don’t let what Sherry said get to you. I’m sure everything’s perfectly fine.”

  17

  The term “famous last words” applied to what Bee had said at the table this morning.

  Everything on the food truck was decidedly not fine.

  We’d set up outside the local park, but the lines hadn’t formed as they had the first day we’d done it. If anything, people gave the food truck a wide berth and cast disparaging looks our way. Of course, this had happened. Of course.

  Why hadn’t I seen it coming?

  “Relax, Ruby,” Bee said. “You’re going to give yourself an ulcer. I swear, you care far too much about what people think of you.”

  “Sure,” I replied, shrugging. “But we are in the hospitality business. And these folks are being pretty inhospitable.”

  “Point taken.” Bee fixed us a milkshake each—strawberry for me and chocolate for her—and we slurped on them while waiting for a customer to appear. We’d had days like this on the truck before, but they were never pleasant.

  It didn’t help that I was already upset about the Jamie incident too.

  “Pity,” Bee said. “Doesn’t look like we’ll be getting any new information. If only we had something that proved one of our suspects was at the crime scene.”

  I let the strawberry sweetness wash over my tongue and soothe my nerves. “I wish I could remember who we saw on the hiking trail ahead of us.”

  “I doubt that whoever it was committed the crime,” Bee said, and plumbed the depths of her milkshake with her straw. “Think about it, Ruby. They would’ve had to bury an entire body in the time it took you to walk down the path and around the corner. My guess is that he was already buried there early in the morning.”

  “Then why didn’t the person ahead of us find the body?” I asked.

  Bee’s frown deepened. “That I’m unsure of. But there’s got to be a plausible explanation for it.”

  Maybe the person who’d been on the trail that morning had been hanging around to make sure no one found the body? If that was the case, they’d done a poor job.

  “Hey!” A woman shouted from the entrance of the park. She came a little closer, grasping her handbag to her side. “Hey you!”

  “Hello,” I called, waving at her. “Would you like something to eat? We�
��ve got cupcakes.”

  “Everybody knows what you did,” the woman shouted back.

  “Huh?” My brow furrowed. “What do you—?”

  “You murdered Henry and now you’re trying to get rid of Sherry too!” the woman yelled.

  “That’s a lie and you know it.” Bee fisted her hips. “Who do you think you are talking to us like that? You’d better get out of here before—”

  “Before what?” The woman took a clear pack of something out of her tote bag and weighed it in her palm. “Before you kill me? Is that it? Because I’ll tell everyone what I know before you can.” She threw the bag with all her might and it sailed through the air toward the food truck.

  The pack of… something, whizzed past my head and slapped into the specials board in the truck.

  “Hey!” Bee started for the truck’s door, but the woman had already run off.

  “What on earth?” I turned toward the projectile, now sitting squarely atop the coffee machine, and examined it. “Bee. I don’t believe it. She threw a pack of lentils at us.”

  “A pack of what?”

  “Lentils. You know… lentils. For lentil soup? Dried lentils.” I lifted the bag and showed it to my friend.

  “Eugh. I hate lentils.”

  “Are you kidding?” I asked. “Lentils are nutritious, full of protein and—”

  “I hardly think that matters,” Bee replied. “She lobbed a projectile at us. We ought to report her to the police.”

  A man cleared his throat at the front of the truck. And speak of the devil, Detective Boyd stood before us, his fingers tugging at his belt.

  “Causing a ruckus, ladies?” he asked.

  “Ah!” Bee’s anger faded, replaced with that mischievous light I’d seen many times before. “Detective Boyd. You’ve come to get your donuts, have you? Marshmallow cupcakes?”

  “Don’t start that again,” he grunted.

  He’d grown wise to our tricks. There would be no overwhelming him this time.

  “Start what again?” Bee asked, innocently.

  “Don’t think I’m stupid,” Boyd said. “I know what you were trying to do the other day. I wasn’t born in a barn.”

  “A strange thing to say,” Bee replied, “but I’m not one to judge.”

  The detective took in a long breath, one that said his patience had already run thin. “You’re causing a disturbance,” he said. “You’ve got to leave. No more selling your goods outside the park.”

  “That woman was the one who caused the disturbance!” Bee exclaimed.

  “She threw lentils at us,” I put in.

  “Lentils?” Boyd frowned.

  “Yes, lentils,” I replied. “You know. Lentils for lentil soup. What’s wrong with everybody today? Lentils!”

  “There’s no need to raise your voice, ma’am.” Detective Boyd backed up a step. “Regardless, you’ll be leaving. Now.”

  Bee was ready to rail against the command, but I knew when we were defeated. Besides, we hadn’t made a single sale all day. “Fine,” I said, waving both hands. “Fine. We’ll go.”

  “Good. Good.” The detective practically jogged off rather than staying to hammer home his point.

  “Strange,” Bee said. “I wonder why he was out here.”

  “Maybe he’s following us.”

  “Us? Why us?”

  “Everyone in town thinks we were the ones who murdered Henry,” I whispered.

  And that only made it more important that we found the person who’d actually committed the crime.

  18

  Later that night…

  Bee and I had taken some cupcakes from the truck and set ourselves up with coffee in my room. Tonight was meant to be the night we brainstormed out the truth about what had happened, except nothing had come to us yet.

  How could it when we had the same information we’d had since this morning? We’d been stumped then. Nothing had changed.

  “I don’t care if we have to stay up until 3am,” Bee said, jabbing the air with her finger. “We’re going to figure this out.”

  “I don’t know, Bee. Maybe it’s hopeless. It’s not like we’ve found out anything of note. We don’t even know if Sherry inherited anything from Henry. I feel like we’ve been so caught up in the gossip, we haven’t done our due diligence in following the real leads. Maybe Jamie’s right and we should leave this to the police.”

  Bee looked utterly scandalized by the suggestion.

  “I’m just saying.” But I couldn’t finish the sentence. I ate a marshmallow cupcake instead, hoping the calories would stop me from saying something I’d regret. I’d already annoyed Jamie. The last thing I wanted was to isolate myself from Bee, as well.

  “The butcher’s wife was having an affair with the baker. The pool boy was stealing from the baker’s wife and worked for the baker and… I’m lost already.” Bee took a frustrated bite out of a cupcake, crumbs falling into her lap. “This is impossible.”

  A knock came at my bedroom door.

  “Come in,” I called. “It’s open.”

  Jamie entered the room. “Busy?”

  “Busy frying our brains trying to figure out the case,” Bee said.

  He shut the door. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Are you sure?” I asked. “I mean, we are discussing Henry’s murder and… you know.”

  “Listen, Ruby, I’m sorry about earlier. I think I needed some time to cool off. I can’t change who you are as a person or what you enjoy. I guess I worry too much about you two. Goes against my, I don’t know, moral grain? Is that a thing? Anyway, it bugs me that you might break the law or get in trouble.”

  Bee kept her mouth firmly closed and averted her eyes.

  “I appreciate you caring,” I said. “And I’m sorry I lied to you, even if it was by omission.”

  “Apology accepted,” he said.

  “Ditto.”

  Jamie came over and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and a lot of the tension I’d been holding dissolved.

  “All right,” Bee said, and offered Jamie the box of cupcakes, “now that that’s out of the way, care to help us brainstorm this one? We’re stymied.”

  “Sleuth’s without a cause,” I agreed. “Or, no, that doesn’t fit. Sleuths without a clue.”

  “What have you got?” Jamie asked, accepting the box and helping himself to a cupcake. “Oh, man, these are good.”

  “Thanks,” Bee said.

  I broke down everything we’d found out about the main suspects in the case and showed Jamie the notes I’d taken on my phone. A hint of guilt lingered—he was a good guy, and he’d only wanted what was best for me—but the facts of the case were a great distraction.

  “So, let me get this straight,” Jamie said, frowning first at me and then at Bee.

  “Here we go.” Bee braced herself.

  “Your main suspect is the pool boy because he had dirt under his fingernails?” Jamie asked.

  “That and he’s been having a suspected affair with Sherry, the baker’s wife. She might’ve inherited his money, and there were rumors that Horatio was stealing from Henry.” I plonked down in an armchair. “Why?”

  “Because dirt under someone’s fingernails is not even circumstantial evidence. That’s just guessing.”

  “Ouch,” Bee said. “OK. What do you suggest we do? We don’t have much to go on.” Bee put up a finger. “And don’t say leave it to Detective Boyd. He’s on my list.”

  “Your list?” Jamie asked. “Do I want to know what this list is for?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Then I’ll leave it a mystery,” Jamie continued. “And what you should do in a case where you have so little evidence, is start with alibis. Rule the suspects out so that you’re only left with those who had room to be at the crime scene.”

  “Right,” I said. “That makes sense.” And we’d done that before. We just hadn’t done it this time. Talk about a lack of consistency.

  “Ugh. We were so busy gettin
g involved in gossip and hiding our actions from you, Jamie, no offense, that we didn’t even think of that.” Bee palmed her forehead.

  “I’ll put in a call to that Detective Boyd,” Jamie said. “See what I can find out.”

  “You think he’ll answer your questions?” I asked.

  “Because he hates us.” Bee gestured with a cupcake. “With a passion. He wasn’t even mad that some lady threw a bag of lentils at us.”

  “Lentils?” Jamie frowned.

  “Not this again.” I laughed out the words.

  Jamie slipped his cellphone from the pocket of his jeans and rose. “I’ll be right back. Give me five minutes, and I’ll have Boyd tell me what he had for breakfast. Not really. But I can omit the fact that I’m no longer a working detective and tell him that I’m due to arrive in town to help him. A transfer. I’ll give him a false name, put on a voice.”

  “That will work?” I asked.

  “We’ll see,” Jamie said. “I can be pretty convincing when I want to be, even though this is stunningly illegal.”

  “See if you can find out who the lentil tossing lady is!” Bee called after him, as the door snapped shut.

  Now, it was my turn to worry. What if Jamie got in trouble on account of us?

  Five minutes later, Jamie entered the room, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “He had an egg muffin for breakfast,” Jamie said. “With two cups of coffee.”

  “Did you get anything good?” Bee asked, straightening in her seat.

  “I did,” Jamie said. “But you’re not going to like it.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Both Horatio Stinson and Sherry Hughes have a rock-solid alibi for the night of the murder. They weren’t in town. They were sighted two towns over at the time of the murder, caught on camera at an ATM together.”

  “Oh wow,” Bee said.

  “At least that excludes them.” But what now? The only suspects we had were Carl, Mr. Grace, the glassblower, and the butcher’s wife, Miranda.

  “It’s got be the butcher,” Bee said, suddenly. “Think about it. He’s got real motive. A crime of passion. And Miranda did say that her husband knew about the affair before Henry was murdered. And then there’s the fact that he said he was meant to go out hiking with Henry on the morning of the murder but didn’t.”