“That’s great.” Dixie had apparently decided it deserved a cookie because she brought a tub out from under the counter and opened it.
Sheriff Terry took one and continued, “He says JoJo, his girlfriend, has been getting monthly checks from Elsie Farmer for years to stay away from her.”
“To stay away?” I took a cookie for myself. “Why?”
“She is apparently a relative. A great-niece it sounds like.” He paused and took a gulp of coffee. “And Elsie was paying her to stay away and keep her mouth shut about any connection between them.”
“JoJo.” I looked at Dixie. “Jocelyn Jane.”
“That’s right.” She dragged a stool closer and sat down. That was Eula Banks’s daughter’s name.”
“Her meal ticket ran out when Elsie died and JoJo moved on to Kenny.” Terry bit into his cookie and smiled. “We’ve got a BOLO out on JoJo Banks. She’s bad news and I’m sure is tied up in the murders of Elsie and Kenny in some way.”
I was sorry to say I now knew what a BOLO was. “I don’t get it though. Why kill off someone who’d been writing you a check?”
“We don’t know. And we don’t need your help.” He was quick to add, “Maybe she thinks she’ll inherit money. Hard to say. We’ll know more once we pick her up.”
“I hope that’s soon,” Dixie looked at her hands. “We just came from Tina’s house and that woman is in bad shape.”
“I know there was some sort of poison found in her garage.” I paused. “But you can’t really think she had any reason to kill Kenny.”
“I can’t say much about the poisons, but I can tell you this.” Sheriff Terry paused. “According to the DCI, that’s part of why this case is so baffling. The amounts of these substances it takes to kill are very exacting. Not something an amateur would know.”
“But you’re still not willing to clear my aunt?” Dixie ran a hand through her hair.
“Or Tina Martin?” I added.
“No.” His face was unreadable. “Not yet.”
The sheriff left with more reminders that he’d shared what he’d shared to keep us from attempting to help. Dixie sent the rest of the cookies with him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I looked up from putting the final touches on the proof I planned to present at the final meeting of the Founders’ Day Cookbook Committee. Dixie stood in the doorway of my office.
“The sheriff is here to see you.” She pointed toward the front.
“What now?”
“He wouldn’t say.” She shrugged. “He needs to talk to you he said.”
I smoothed the papers and clipped them together. Carefully placing them in my bag, I headed out front to see what the sheriff wanted.
“Yes?” I stopped in front of him.
He shifted his weight and looked at me.
“Sugar, I’m sorry but I have to ask you about a number of items that you may have taken from Greer Gooder’s house.”
“Yes?” I waited.
“So, you admit to taking the items?”
“Of course,” I couldn’t see where he was headed with this. “A frog statue, a cup, strawberry cruets, and a piece of pottery.”
“Why would you take those things?” He frowned.
“I took them and gave them to Greer. She asked me to get them from her storage in the attic. I don’t know what exactly she’s doing with them but I suspect that she may be giving them to Disco to sell for her.”
“Ah, now that makes more sense.”
“Have you talked to Disco?”
“I have not.” He wiped his hand over his face. “I wanted to talk to you first.”
“So, you did know he’s been doing something with Greer’s stuff.” I shook my head. “I’m worried about what she’s getting rid of and why she’s doing it, but it’s none of my business really. And I can’t see how it’s any of yours.”
“We had someone come in and want to file a complaint about you.”
“What?” Dixie popped out from the kitchen. She had obviously been listening. “A complaint about Sugar?”
“Because I’ve been taking things to Greer?”
“I told you that you were being way too nice.” Dixie pointed a finger at me.
“This person thought you were taking the things for yourself.”
“I’ll bet it’s my neighbor, Mrs. Pickett.” I shook my head. “She hates me. I don’t know why she hates me but she does.”
The sheriff stuck the paper in his pocket. “It wasn’t Mrs. Pickett, though she might be sort of involved.”
“Well, if not her who was it?”
“Greer’s son had some concerns about his mother after he got a call from Mrs. Pickett about you living next door. And then these items started showing up online for sale, so he asked us to check into it. Because he’d been told you were observed with the items, Spiff assumed it was you selling them.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” I looked at Dixie. “His name is Spiff?”
“It’s Spencer but everyone in town called him Spiff,” she explained.
Greer had talked about her son. I thought back to when she mentioned the insurance policy. She seemed proud of him. She hadn’t come right out and said so, but I’d gotten the impression she was disappointed he didn’t call or visit more often. Minneapolis was not that far away. She hadn’t said he was nuts.
“You said I was seen with the items.” I tried to understand how he’d gotten the idea I’d taken things. “Who saw me?”
“Spiff wouldn’t say who saw you, but when he questioned Disco, the guy refused to give him any information about how he’d obtained the items. Spiff felt like Disco was hiding something, possibly protecting you.”
“How did he know things were missing? And were showing up for sale?” This was not adding up.
“He says he’d seen items he knew his mother had online for sale and the account he traced to Disco. And then when Disco wouldn’t admit to selling his mother’s things, he says it left him no choice but to file a complaint.”
“Well Disco probably was hiding something but he was protecting Greer. Not me.”
“Okay, then.” The sheriff leaned against the counter. “I wish the rest was as easy to sort out as this.”
“We heard you picked up JoJo,” I said.
“We did, but she’s not talking.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“On the items from Greer’s house?” I wanted to make sure I understood clearly. “You’ll follow-up with her and with Disco, right?”
“Yes, we will.” He headed for the door. “We’ll sort it out.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
It was the final St. Ignatius Community Cookbook committee meeting and so we were almost to the finish line. As the meeting wrapped up, I pulled Minnie to one side.
“Do you have a minute?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“Sure.” She was packing up her colored pens, putting them in their slots in the pencil case. She zipped it shut and put it away before she looked up.
“You know the sheriff has taken Elsie’s niece JoJo into custody, right?”
She nodded, continuing to stack and straighten copies of the minutes she’d passed out at the meeting.
“He’s waiting for the state investigator to come, but he needs some proof of these payments you said were made to her. Do you have check numbers or anything like that they can use to get Kenny and Elsie’s bank records?”
“The sheriff asked me about that and I told him I don’t. I can show them on my computer, the debit each month, to another account. I suppose they can figure out where the money went from that.”
“I’m sure they can.” Thank goodness Minnie was so meticulous. “Is your computer at the office?
“No, it’s at home.” She looked at blankly. “I work on a laptop. It’s a
lot easier.”
“Great, can you let the sheriff know you have that?”
“Sure,” she agreed. “I’ve got to get home now though. There’s a documentary I’ve been wanting to see, and this is the first night.”
“I won’t keep you then.” I smiled at her. “You hang in there, hon.”
“Thanks.” She finished collecting her things and left without saying good-bye. I shook my head. Such a serious woman. So intent on getting to her television program.
I took my time gathering up my own papers.
This was it.
We were at the end of our first community cookbook project. In spite of pretty drastic obstacles, we’d made it. Everything was ready to go. I’d go back to the office and call the printer with a few minor corrections and it was a go.
Sheriff Terry had JoJo and Robbie in custody and as soon as the DCI investigator saw the money trail, it would be clear JoJo was the killer of both Elsie and Kenny.
Not Bertie. Not Tina.
Though I was still miffed about Mrs. Pickett calling Greer’s son and convincing him I was stealing from his mother. It had all been sorted out. I wasn’t sure what the woman had against me, but I was going to break her. I would convince her to like me, even if it meant picking up every leaf the wind blew into her yard.
I laughed at myself as I tucked the last sheet of paper into my bag. I went out, waving good-bye to Toy, who was at the cash register with a customer.
“Cluck” the door said as I went out.
It was that trip to Mars. I’d felt like it had been a wasted road trip, but if we hadn’t gone I would not have seen JoJo and her boyfriend. The sheriff would not have had the license number. I don’t really believe in fate, but it sure felt like our trip to Mars, and my gas stop, had been a lucky break.
Humming “Fly Me to the Moon,” I walked back to the office lugging my bag and feeling that all was soon to be right with the world.
The good feeling didn’t last very long, once I entered the shop.
Sheriff Terry sat on a stool at the counter with Dixie, a bite of tiramisu halfway to his mouth. They both wore sober expressions.
Dixie’s tiramisu was out of this world and could not be the reason for their dejected faces.
“What’s wrong?” I looked from one to the other.
“I wasn’t able to hold them,” he said. “The man whose van they stole refused to press charges. The DCI says we don’t have enough evidence to hold JoJo on suspicion of murder.”
“But her boyfriend is the one who said she was extorting money from Elsie and then they moved on to Kenny.” I dropped my bag on the floor and joined them at the counter.
“He’s recanted his story.” Dixie poured a coffee and pushed it across the counter to me.
“The state says they may be able to get them on extortion once they see the transactions and can confirm those. But that doesn’t make a case for murder.”
“So they’re on the street?” I couldn’t believe it.
“Yep.” Dixie handed me a plate with a slice of tiramisu. I knew it was her personal entry in the Founders’ Day cookbook. I also knew it was Sheriff Terry’s favorite dessert. For once, I knew when to keep my lips zipped.
“Until we have proof of the blackmail and even if there was money that changed hands, JoJo can claim her aunt gave her money. There’s no one to refute it.”
“Except Minnie.” I jumped up. “She said she balanced Kenny’s account for him all the time and has all those spreadsheets on her computer.”
“That will help.” Terry slid off his stool and began to pace.
“She also told me she overheard a phone call where Kenny said to someone, ‘You may have gotten a payoff from my wife, but you’re not getting anything from me.’”
“Why didn’t I know this?” He swiveled to look at me.
I held up my hands. “I asked her to call you.”
“I’m going to call Agent Bell and share this with him. Hopefully it will change his mind.” He went out the door.
Dixie and I sat there for a while in silence. Something was nagging me.
“I’m worried about Minnie.” I finally broke the silence. “I’m going to call her.”
I dialed Minnie’s number on my cell phone, but she didn’t pick up. “Now, I’m even more worried.”
Dixie started picking up the cups and plates. “She told you she was going home to watch some program, right?”
“Yeah, something on the science channel.” I couldn’t remember what she’d said, but she had seemed focused on getting home in time.
“You know Minnie.” Dixie wiped down the counter. “Laser focus. She probably won’t answer you until it’s over.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but I’m going to check on her just to be sure.” If she was in danger, I felt responsible. Like I had put her in there by insisting she talk to the sheriff initially when she hadn’t wanted to.
What if JoJo and Robbie had figured out it was Minnie who’d had the information? They’d go after the laptop for sure. If they didn’t find it at the office, they might try her house. And, according to Greer, she lived alone.
“Okay, I’ll close up here.” Dixie started to the kitchen with the dishes. “Don’t get lost.”
“Come on. I’ve been there before.”
“Like I said. Don’t get lost.” She grinned.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I found Minnie’s house without any problem. (Okay, I used the GPS again.) It was in an older part of town and was a quaint little bungalow. Compact and unassuming, much like Minnie. I knocked on her door and then knocked again. She didn’t answer.
I tried again and waited.
Now I was beyond worried. I looked up and down the street. No gray van parked anywhere in sight, but what if JoJo and her boyfriend were driving something different now? What was I thinking? Of course, they were.
I turned the doorknob and the door opened easily. I took my cell phone out of my purse and placed it in my jacket pocket. Easy access, just in case.
“Minnie?” I leaned in and called out. “Hello?”
Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself she could simply be somewhere in the house where she couldn’t hear my knock. Maybe in a room at the back of the house engrossed in her television show.
I stepped inside.
Lights were on in the living room. The furniture was from a different era. According to Greer, the house had been Minnie’s parents’ home. I guessed she’d not updated.
I glanced around, there were pictures on the mantel of her parents. No siblings. No extended family.
“Minnie?” I called out again. “Are you home? It’s Sugar.”
Listening to see if I could hear a television, I moved toward a hallway where the wall was home to several framed certificates.
Minerva Silberhorn, Academic Honor Roll, St. Ignatius High School.
Probably achievements her parents had been very proud of and had displayed. Yet, there was something sad about them still hanging on the wall, decades later.
I kept listening for any sort of sounds, my eyes moving to the next frame, a certificate and a newspaper article. A very young Minnie, at college, along with one other student.
Minnie Silberhorn, OCA, Outstanding Chemist Award, for her work as an undergraduate researcher.
I crept down the hallway, ears attuned to anything unusual. What if she couldn’t answer because she was injured? What if they had her gagged?
There was a light at the end of the hall. Just a little crack of light. Another room with the door closed.
I ran my hand along the wall, moving carefully so I didn’t give away my presence. The wallpaper whispering beneath my hand. My fingers bumped another frame. The photo was a building I recognized. One of the historic photos Max had helped restore. The home of Otto Styles, the c
hemist who discovered a weed killer that made him oodles of money. The inscription on the photo simply said, “Great Grandpa Otto’s House.”
Wow. A whole lot of chemistry going on in that family.
The words echoed in my head. The thing that had been nagging me gelled.
I stopped where I was.
Sheriff Terry had said the DCI didn’t think the poisonings could be suicide or accidental because of the understanding of chemistry that would be needed. How much it took to kill someone was not something an amateur would know.
JoJo and her boyfriend were amateurs. Their approach had been to get Elsie to pay them money to keep quiet. When Elsie was gone they’d moved on to Kenny, thinking he’d continue the arrangement. Not much skill in that plan.
I now stepped backward. My mind raced trying to put it all together. My eyes never left that sliver of light at the end of the hallway.
I turned to head for the door and caught a glimpse of what they used to call the sitting room.
There was a large lighted curio.
Many families have them. My family did.
It was where my mother kept her awards, my Aunt Cricket kept pictures of her critters, and my Aunt Celia kept pictures of her grandchildren.
The last piece of the puzzle snapped into place.
It was where Minnie Silberhorn kept pictures of Kenny Farmer.
Not just a few pictures. Hundreds of pictures.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
Get out. I had to get out of the house and call the sheriff.
My feet felt like lead but I forced myself to move. I turned.
Minnie stood in the doorway. Her stillness chilling.
“Hello,” I choked out. I started to try to bluff my way out, but I’m afraid all the terrible realizations showed on my face.
The right amount of poison to kill.
The access to Elsie’s kitchen.
The energy drink bottles lined up so exactly in Tina’s refrigerator.
I brushed past her and headed to the living room, but before I could get to the front door, she grabbed my wrist.
“I need to go, Minnie.” I twisted my arm hoping to free it. “I just stopped by to check on you. Dixie’s expecting me back at the office.”
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