As they entered, there were several official looking people moving around in the café kitchen and taking out boxes of food and cooking utensils to a waiting van. Abby started to charge over, but Hazel put her hand on Abby’s shoulder and stopped her, nodding toward the sheriff who was just putting away a small notebook. “Go easy, dear. I know you’re concerned for your friend, but there isn’t need to rile the sheriff, is there?”
Abby took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Hazel was right. She had no idea what was going on, and charging in like a crazed grizzly bear was probably not going to be helpful. She stopped herself, giving Hazel a hard look that was directed more at herself than her grandmother. She did know better than that. The evening news and the internet were full of videos with people who thought they knew better, and instead got themselves in trouble. Despite having read a book for the past few days, maybe this murder was getting to her more than she expected. Or maybe it was because she didn’t want to lose the first friend she’d had in months.
Instead of storming over, Abby and Hazel approached quietly, looking for any signs they were intruding. Instead, the sheriff stood and tipped his hat at Hazel, then at Abby and Becky. “I think that’s enough for today, Becky. Just be sure not to speak too much about the case, if you can, and don’t go into the kitchen or storage rooms for the next several days. We’ll let you know when it’s safe, but until then it’s a potential crime scene.”
Becky wiped her eyes with a tissue and answered in a trembling, lost voice. “Thank you, Bob. I’ll stay away. Is it okay if I stay in my apartment?”
The middle-aged sheriff considered her for a moment with his ice-blue, steady eyes before nodding. “Yes, but honestly if you have anywhere else you can stay, I’d recommend doing that. I can’t promise there won’t be investigators in here at odd hours.”
Becky nodded, more tears leaking their way out of her eyes and sliding down her cheeks as the sheriff moved off to talk to some of the other officers. Abby and Hazel moved forward to fill the space, immediately clustering around the distraught woman and wrapping her in warm hugs. Becky’s stoic silence lasted until the moment when Abby’s arms went around her and then she broke down into hysterical sobs. It took several minutes until Becky was able to speak again and neither Abby nor Hazel felt like rushing her, despite their intense curiosity.
Finally, Becky settled enough to pull back and talk in a hiccupping, desperate rant. “What am I going to do? I’ve got nowhere to go, and I don’t want to have to deal with policemen coming and going! This is a nightmare! What am I going to do?”
Abby looked over at Hazel who cleared her throat and dipped her chin before giving Becky a stern look. The quiet, graceful tone was one any parent would recognize and used to pull a child of any age through lesser and greater disasters of all kinds. “The first thing you are going to do is go pack an overnight bag. Then you’ll be coming back home with us to some good company and hot tea.” Hazel held up her hand at Becky who looked like she wanted to interrupt, but was stopped by the commanding matron. “There is plenty of room, and I won’t hear a no from you, anyway. It sounds like you have a story to tell us.”
Chapter 11
Hazel and Abby had set Becky down on the porch and listened to her tell her story while the three of them drank tea and watched the river passing beneath them. The story was pretty straightforward. Becky had opened and begun her morning service. An hour later, the sheriff and his deputies had pulled up, politely asked everyone to leave, and then told Becky they suspected Craig had died of some poisoning that could have been related to something he had eaten.
Mushroom poisoning.
They didn’t say what kind, but it had to be related to the chanterelle mushrooms that Craig had loved eating so much in his omelet. A cold shiver traveled up and down Abby’s spine when Becky said that. She’d had one of those very same omelets on her first day here. Abby carefully schooled her face, trying not to show her mounting worry as Becky spoke. It was hard enough to get the story out around Becky’s intermittent crying and nose blowing. She didn’t want to let her fear come out and perhaps drive Becky into another state of hysteria. Instead, she just kept giving her friend hugs and comfort while she talked. For her part, Hazel had simply sat across from them quietly and ate a scone, letting the woman vent.
Becky’s anger had peaked when she had asked if she were being accused of murder. The sheriff had remained stone-faced, giving her no answer or indication at all. Abby suspected it was some police tactic. Don’t respond to the question. Make them answer the question themselves either by slipping up or babbling until they admitted to the wrongdoing, but she didn’t like it, especially when it came to her friend.
After Becky had finished talking, the three of them sat and digested the information in thoughtful silence. It gave Becky a chance to consider everything that had happened this morning, but Abby wasn’t sure if that was a right or bad thing for the fiery redhead.
“Can chanterelle mushrooms poison you?” Abby asked into the silence, the question finally burning its way to the front of her consciousness. She had eaten them, and she just couldn’t sit on the matter any longer. Hopefully, she’d disguised her worry well enough.
Becky answered quickly, almost defensively. “No, never. Chanterelles are well known for being tasty and edible. Even if you eat them raw, they won't do anything to you except maybe give you a stomach ache if you were a particular kind of person.”
Hazel nodded along, agreeing with Becky’s assessment but in a less combative tone. “Not chanterelles, but there are quite a few mushrooms in these forests that could kill you dead.”
Abby looked quizzically at her grandmother. “What do you mean in the woods? Don’t you just get your mushrooms from farms?”
Becky shook her head. “Not chanterelles, at least not most of them. They never seem to grow in greenhouses or anywhere you want to cultivate them. It’s something about the roots of trees or something. I know Joe Forsyth has managed to grow some, but I think he got lucky with some soil he managed to find. Most of the time you have to crawl around in the forests to get them.”
“And it is lucrative, too,” Hazel added. “A person can make a couple of hundred dollars a day selling some of these mushrooms when they’re in season. You’ve got to know where to look, though. More importantly, you’ve got to know what you’re looking at or, no offense intended, you might kill someone.”
Becky looked a little green at Hazel’s words, and she withdrew into herself as well. Abby gave her another hug and shook Becky slightly to break her out of it. “Come on, now. You said you get yours from Joe Forsyth? How well does he know mushrooms?”
Becky sighed. “Very well. He’s been selling them for almost thirty years. I trust Joe. He’s a crotchety old coot, but he’s been buying and selling them for a long time and knows his stuff. Besides that, I did my research before I would even get close to anything like this, or at least I thought I had.” Becky finished lamely, depression once again winning out over anger.
“Hazel leaned over and patted Becky’s hand. “Why don’t you go lay down, dear. It’ll be a few hours until dinner, but I think you need the rest. It’s been quite a long day. I’ll make some pork chops and beans.”
Becky nodded and rose, heading for one of the other guest rooms upstairs. There were three, and one more down on the lower level, so they had plenty of room. Abby and Hazel watched her walk away and up into the house before turning back to each other. Raising their eyebrows at the same moment, they were both startled into nervous chuckles at the mirrored reaction.
“Are we terrible for laughing at a time like this?” Abby said after covering her mouth.
“It’s how we deal with tragedy, dear. It’s human nature. I wouldn’t worry about it overly. But I do worry for Becky. She’s had her run-ins with Craig, and I hate to say this, but no one else is dead. If the omelet was what had poisoned him…” Hazel didn’t finish the sentence but trailed off and took a sip of he
r tea instead.
Abby frowned darkly and couldn’t blame her. She remembered what Becky had said to Craig the morning that she escorted Mabel home.
‘You’re lucky I don’t poison your omelet’ she’d snarled at the man.
Abby sat back as Hazel went quiet, and thought about everything she’d experienced here in town since she had arrived. She felt worn, and like she’d lived here a month, but in reality, Abby had been here less than a week. She should keep her nose out of it. She didn’t know anyone, and it’s not like there was anything she could do to help.
Or was there?
Though she hadn’t known Becky for very long, she liked her, and the woman had befriended her on the very first day she was in town. On top of that, she’d offered her a job at the fair to help her get to know people. It had immediately given her warm feelings about Becky and reinforced the welcome Hazel had given her. Why shouldn’t she get involved?
Abby suddenly stood and looked determinedly back to the house. “Hazel, can I borrow the car?”
Hazel didn’t even blink. “Of course, dear. The keys are always on the front mantle if you ever need the car. You don’t need to ask as long as you don’t do any gunrunning or liquor smuggling. Also, I would head to Calamities bookstore on Main Street. It’s just around the corner from Becky’s café. The sisters that own that place might be able to give you some information.”
Abby looked quizzically at the gray-haired old woman. “How do you know what I want to go do?”
Hazel smiled warmly. “Because finding out about mushrooms is what I would like to do if I were you.”
Abby smiled back, already dashing for the front door with Cheerio hot on her heels. “Thank you, Grandma!” She called before grabbing the keys on our way out to the car. She hadn’t known Becky for very long but damned if she wasn’t going to try to do something to save her first friend.
Chapter 12
She pulled up in front of Calamities and parked in the slanted parking spaces that you never found in the major cities, but were thick as thieves on most main streets of every small town in America. The store itself was cozy and welcoming with a giant sign over the big windows that proudly declared Calamities to the world around it and instantly set Abby at ease. Tall bookshelves full of old paperbacks peeked out at her like errant children looking to see who the new stranger was while several, colorful books sat in the display windows.
When she opened the door, the happy ringing of the silver bell above her head and the smell of old books welcomed her like a hug. Who didn’t love the smell of an old bookstore? Not far from the entrance there was a well-loved, wide counter with an ancient cashier machine sitting at one end. Two older women sat behind it, each facing a far more up to date computer system and surfing the web like gangbusters. One had a headset on and seemed to be having a lively discussion with whoever was on the other end, and the other appeared to be reading something online.
If one hadn’t had a headset on, she wouldn’t have been able to tell the two apart. They were twins, and by their matching clothes, she suspected they loved to play tricks on everyone around them. When she came in, the one without the headset turned to her with a smile as big as the sun.
“Good afternoon!” She exclaimed with enthusiasm. “My name is Doreen Calem. What can Calamities do for you today? Are you looking for anything in particular?”
Abby stopped just inside the door and paused. She almost shifted back into a big city attitude of ‘just looking’ but stopped herself. “I am looking for something. Do you have any books on, ah, mushroom hunting?”
The old woman’s happy grin grew even wider as she bustled out from behind the counter and began heading deeper into the store. “There are a fair sized number of books here in the herbalism section. Were you looking for anything in particular? For cooking, maybe?”
Abby begin peering closely at the spines of the books that the woman had revealed, and there were a fair amount of them, but honestly, Abby didn’t have a clue where to look. “I’m not sure what I’m looking for, but do you have anything that might tell the difference between edible mushrooms and poisonous ones?”
Doreen nodded, reaching out and pulling several books from the shelf and handed them to her. “That’s a common subject with some people around these parts. Are you looking to go out mushroom hunting? Or,” Doreen got a sly look on her face, “are you trying to figure out if Becky might have poisoned Craig Malcolm?”
Abby blinked and stuttered out an answer, completely caught off guard. “Um, uh, no. No, I… wait, how do you even know about that?”
The woman cackled. That was the only word for it before she turned and yelled down the aisle back toward her sister. “Did you hear that, Diane? She wants to know how we are aware about what happened at Becky’s this morning.”
Abby heard an answering, identical cackle from the counter before Doreen turned back to her with a mischievous look on her face. “Honey, we know just about everything that goes on in this town. Between Twitter, Facebook, and everything else out there it is just a matter of being savvy with the computers. I may be old, but I’m not dumb. Besides, I was driving by when the sheriff was there, and one of those deputies has a big mouth. You were hanging out with Becky last weekend, too. It’s not very hard to guess, is it?”
Abby frowned, slightly annoyed at the grin directed at her, but finally, she just shrugged. “I suppose not. Well, that is why am here. I’m trying to help Becky out.”
Doreen reached for the stack that was in Abby’s arms and pulled out two books before putting the others back. “You want these, then. They’ll get you started on understanding mushrooms around these parts. But if you really want to know about mushrooms, you’ll want to head up to the ranger station for one of their classes and mushroom hikes.”
Abby raised an eyebrow. “They have classes for this?”
Doreen nodded vigorously and chuckled again. “Oh yes, they do. If they don’t, too many tourists tend to go out and get severe stomach cramps, or dead. They figured out years ago it saves a lot of headaches by just putting on these classes and showing people what to watch out for.” Doreen turned and headed back to the counter, gesturing for Abby to follow. “I have some information on the next class and how to sign up.”
Abby followed Doreen to a large pegboard filled with a variety of posters and business cards before the old woman pointed at one that advertised free classes for mushroom identification. On the cover was an almost goofy picture of a handsome man in a Rangers outfit who looked like he was trying way too hard to smile for the camera. Abby started to laugh but took a closer look as, despite his overacting, the man was quite handsome.
And then she found herself in a fight with her emotions. Yes, the man was handsome. Why shouldn’t she look? It was just looking, and the easy way his eyes glanced at the camera looked like they would be more used to telling stories over a campfire then posing for a picture. How dare she look at someone else? What would her husband think? The one who had died and left her alone over a year ago. Yes, that one. Abby closed her eyes, breathing for a second as she clamped down on her emotions and wondered if this was a good idea at all. The fight was easier; she kept telling herself. She kept repeating that line over and over again until she felt human enough to open her eyes and begin writing the pertinent information down.
“Do you like mushrooms?”
The voice was familiar and had that same lost quality as when she’d heard it before. She turned with a semi-forced smile to see Samantha Greene standing there. Despite having asked the question, the girl was just as nervous as she had been at the festival when she’d mentioned living in Phoenix. Abby nodded and held out the two books that Doreen had picked out for her, deciding to lie.
“I’m not sure,” Abby answered. “But I’ve heard it’s a big hobby up here, and I was curious about it. I was also thinking about going to take that class.” Abby pointed at the poster up on the board behind her. Samantha leaned in and looked over her sho
ulder.
“That’s Gabe Wilson,” Samantha said in the lost, forlorn tone that Abby was coming to expect before looking around nervously. “He’s always nice to me. He’s nice to everyone, actually, so that probably doesn’t make me special. Nothing makes me special.”
The girl trailed off into an awkward silence before Doreen scooted over and made a tisking noise at the girl. “Stop that, Samantha. There’s nothing wrong with who you are. Did you want to borrow some more books?”
Abby watched the girl nod silently before laying some books on the counter. Oddly, the front cover had a big glass of beer on it, and the title said ‘Brewing Your First Beer.' Another staple of the Northwest, she’d heard. Samantha shuffled for a moment, and Abby thought she had gone quiet, but instead, she spoke.
“Buck and Dem like to drink beer. I figured I would try to make some myself because we’re always low on money.” Samantha reached up and scratched at her scalp. “At least most times. Right now is a good season for us. Buck let me buy some brewing equipment just a while ago. I should have my first batch done in a few weeks.” She paused for a moment, still looking down at the ground. “Would you like to try one when it is ready?”
Abby swallowed nervously but nodded. She didn’t know anything about brewing beer, but at least if it was bad, she could throw it away as long as the girl wasn’t standing there staring at her. It would be just her luck, though. “Sure,” Abby said bravely. “I’ll be happy to try it out.”
Samantha just nodded before turning and walking away into the aisles of books, leaving Abby to watch her go.
“Don’t worry about her. She’s harmless, and you might be surprised about that beer. She’s been in the bookstore for years reading about crafts and hobbies and does a pretty decent job.” Doreen turned and pointed to a small quilt that was pinned up to the wall behind the counter. It was only about two feet across and about that tall, but it had beautiful colors and patterns. “She brought this in for us about a year ago, and we’ve been happy to have it here.”
Hot Tea and Cold Murder: A Red Pine Falls Cozy Mystery (Red Pine Falls Cozy Mysteries Book 1) Page 6