Cast Iron Suspicion (The Cast Iron Cooking Mysteries Book 5)

by Jessica Beck

  “You’re kidding, right? Halloween will be here before we know it, then Thanksgiving and Christmas will steamroll overtop of us if we aren’t ready for it.”

  “I suppose, but it seems to come earlier and earlier every year,” I said.

  “What can I say? The world is losing its patience with the natural order of things,” Pat said as I poured him some coffee.

  I made myself a few slices as well, and my brother and I ate our meal together, one on each side of the counter. We were barely finished when the front door opened and five different people came into the Iron. Three headed for the mercantile, and two walked straight toward my grill. Pat shoved his plate away as he stood. “Thanks. That was awesome.”

  “I appreciate the praise,” I said. “I’ll call Kathleen later, okay? There’s no real rush, since Mick isn’t going anywhere until he gets his hands on his father’s money. I wonder who Timothy left his money and his land to.”

  “I don’t know, but I have a feeling we’re going to find out.”

  “I just hope it wasn’t me,” I said as I cleared away our plates.

  Pat looked surprised by my statement. “Is that even a possibility?”

  “No. Of course not. I’m just saying, I don’t need folks around here to have any more reasons to suspect me of being involved in what happened to him than they already think they do.”

  “I understand that,” Pat said. “Just call her when you get a chance, okay?”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll get right on that,” I answered with a mock salute.

  Pat just shrugged and went back up front. I’d call Kathleen during the next lull, but at the moment, I had orders to fill and customers to serve.

  Oddly enough, I managed not to spill anything hot on any of them.

  Would wonders never cease?

  I got a break a little later and called my big sister, for all of the good it did me.

  “Kathleen, did you know that Mick and Timothy were fighting about their father’s estate over the past couple of days?”

  “I did. How did you hear about it?” she asked me.

  “Mick came by the grill earlier,” I admitted.

  “I heard all about it,” she said dryly. “Annie, did you really scald his hand with coffee? And if you did, was it an accident, or did you do it on purpose?” My sister clearly disapproved of my actions.

  “Would I do something like that on purpose?” I asked her, being as insincere as I knew how to be. “Besides, it was just a little splash. If I’d been meaning to scald him, I would have poured the whole carafe straight into his lap.”

  “Remind me never to get on your bad side when you’ve got a pot of hot coffee in your hands,” Kathleen said.

  “Oh, I think we both know you’re too smart for that. Seriously though, he’s got to be a suspect in your mind, doesn’t he?”

  “Annie, it’s only natural for you to want to know what happened to your ex-boyfriend, but I’m handling it, okay?”

  I decided my best course of action was not to answer the question at all.

  She waited two more beats before asking me, “Annie? Are you still there?”

  “I am,” I said.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Kathleen said flatly.

  “Sorry, but I’ve got to go. I’ve got a crowd coming in, so I need both hands free.” The “crowd” was Cora Yount, and she was all alone.

  Could I help it if I was in no hurry to anger my sister, who also happened to be our sheriff?

  Chapter 7: Pat

  As expected, Timothy was just about all folks could talk about at the Iron. I must have answered a thousand questions about what I thought, and I was certain that Annie had gotten the same treatment working the grill.

  An hour before we were set to close for the day, crusty old Virgil Hicks came in carrying a plastic bag with our store logo on it. “I need to return this, Pat.”

  I took the bag from him and looked inside. “It’s the dog whistle you bought a few days ago,” I said. “What was the problem with it?”

  “It didn’t work,” Virgil said with a frown.

  “You know humans can’t hear it, right?”

  He looked at me as though I had the IQ of a banana. “I’m not an idiot. It didn’t work on the dog it was supposed to.”

  “Virgil, when did you even get a dog?” I couldn’t help myself asking. It had been an odd purchase for him to make in the first place, but more than that, I was just relieved not to be fielding another question about Timothy Roberts.

  “It’s not for my dog.”

  “Whose dog was it for, then?”

  “Are you going to give me a refund or not?” Virgil asked me.

  The man was a real grump, and ordinarily I wouldn’t have pushed him on it, but I wasn’t in the mood to be confronted in my own store. In other words, Virgil had chosen the wrong day to come looking for a fight. “Whose dog?” I repeated my question.

  “Beatrice Masterson’s. Are you satisfied?”

  “She’s your next-door neighbor, isn’t she?” It was all starting to make sense now. “Virgil, you have to get pretty close for this whistle to work.”

  “I don’t care anymore. I’m done trying to get that mutt to stop barking at night.”

  I couldn’t even imagine how frustrating that must be for him. “No worries. Sorry. I’ll take care of it right now.”

  Virgil looked surprised by my sudden turnaround. “That’s it? No more third degree?”

  “No, we’re good,” I said as I offered him a smile. I took Virgil’s receipt, entered it into the register, and then I gave him his cash back. “There you go.”

  “Okay then,” he said as he took the money, sounding a little deflated. It seemed as though he’d been looking forward to digging in his heels, and I’d disappointed him somehow.

  “Was there anything else?”

  “I might look around a little,” he said.

  I waved to the store. “Go ahead and knock yourself out.”

  As Virgil browsed, I started straightening up the checkout counter. It was amazing how quickly things got out of sorts, and I found myself constantly reorganizing the impulse items we offered at the front. Summers were the worst when the kids were out of school, but there was always something that needed doing throughout the year. I didn’t even notice as Virgil approached and put some dog jerky treats on the counter.

  “If you can’t beat them, join them. Is that it?” I asked him with a grin.

  Virgil shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe these will do the trick. I figure if I throw one over the fence at night, that fleabag will shut up long enough for me to get to sleep. After I’m out, a freight train wouldn’t wake me up.”

  “You know, you could always just say something to Beatrice,” I said as I rang up the new sale.

  “We don’t talk,” he said abruptly.

  I was amused to see that the amount of jerky he’d purchased was more expensive than the whistle he’d just returned, so we were coming out ahead of the game after all. “At all?”

  “That’s right. You haven’t heard what happened? I was mowing my lawn two years ago, minding my own business, when a wasp flew in my face and stung me straight on the nose. I lost control of the mower for a second and got two of her plants, and you’d think I’d painted her house purple. I offered to buy her two replacements, but she kept screaming at me that they were priceless. Pat, they were annuals! How could they have been priceless? We haven’t spoken since.”

  “You know how Beatrice feels about her flowers. She’s been running the Ladies’ Floral Society for as long as I can remember. They’re like her children.”

  “Then she should have put that fence up before I mowed her kiddies down,” Virgil said with a snap. Was he actually blaming her for not doing a be
tter job of protecting her flowerbeds from his errant lawn mower? If it had been anyone else, I might have believed it was hyperbole, but knowing Virgil, I had a hunch he was deadly serious.

  I didn’t know how to respond to that without poking him again, and I’d suddenly lost my taste for a fight. “Thanks for shopping at the Iron. Come again.”

  The only problem was that Virgil wasn’t finished. “It was a real shame about Timothy Roberts,” he said, watching me for some kind of reaction as he lingered at the counter.

  I wasn’t about to fall into that trap. “It sure was.”

  Virgil smiled softly. “I wonder if the cops are looking at Viv Masters.”

  That got my attention, since Viv was already on our list. “I’m sure Kathleen is looking at everyone who might have had a reason to harm Timothy. Why do you think Viv might be one of them?”

  “The way those two were around each other? If your older sister isn’t looking at her, then we’ve got the wrong person acting as sheriff in these parts.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Two days ago,” Virgil said, warming up. “I was walking down the street when I saw them run into each other in broad daylight.”

  “Were they fighting?”

  “No, they seemed civil enough to me,” Virgil said.

  “Then what was the problem?” Was the man so bored with his life that he was just making things up now?

  “After they said their good-byes, I happened to glance back at Viv. You should have seen the look she gave him! It could have melted the flesh right off the man! I’ve never seen such pure hatred in my life, and I don’t have to tell you that I’ve been around the block a time or two.”

  Was he exaggerating again, or had he really seen something? With Virgil, it was always hard to tell. “Do you have any idea why she was upset with him?”

  “Upset? It was more than just being upset,” Virgil said. “Pat, I’m telling you, she wanted his head on a stake.”

  It was pretty clear that Virgil didn’t know any of the details. “You should tell Kathleen what you saw,” I prompted him.

  He looked surprised by my suggestion. “Why would I get myself involved in that mess? She’s supposed to be such a great cop, let her figure it out on her own.” Virgil shook the bag of jerky treats at me, and then he left the Iron. I thought about calling Kathleen and telling her what he had said, but then I had second thoughts. Viv was already high on our list, and Annie and I would be talking to her soon. Why muddy the waters by telling Kathleen before we had a chance to find out if Virgil had an overactive imagination, or if he’d really seen something between the two of them? If we suspected that Viv was hiding something after we spoke to her, we’d tell our sister, but first we needed to do a little preliminary work ourselves.

  Still, it gave me food for thought as I continued to wait on our clientele.

  I was just locking the front door when I saw a police squad car pull into our lot. In less than a minute, Kathleen herself was approaching. She’d changed into a fresh uniform since I’d seen her last, but I doubted she’d gotten more than an hour of sleep in the interim. I knew from experience that she could function at that level of rest, but she wouldn’t be the most pleasant person in the world to be around. I needed to watch what I said to her, and more importantly, it wouldn’t be a good time to share any new information with her, especially about what Virgil Hicks had said about Viv Masters.

  I opened the door for her and held it there until she could come inside. “Hey, sis. Long day?”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Kathleen said as I locked the door behind her. “I wonder if Annie has anything to eat back there.”

  “I don’t know. Let’s go see,” I said. Annie usually liked to wind things down at the grill before we closed for the day at four, and I knew that asking for food any time after three thirty was living dangerously.

  “Is there anything left?” I asked Annie as Kathleen and I approached the back of the store where the grill was located. “It seems we’ve got a hungry sheriff on our hands.”

  “You’re in luck,” Annie said. “I’ve got some leftover stew, and enough bread for all three of us.”

  “I don’t want to take any food out of your mouths,” Kathleen said as she slumped down on one of the stools at the counter.

  “Please,” Annie said, and before there were any more protests, she filled up three big bowls, sliced a loaf of fresh artisan white-and-wheat bread, plated it, and then grabbed some butter. “There’s plenty for all of us.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that,” Kathleen said as she grabbed one of the wrapped napkins that held silverware.

  “You’re welcome. What would you like to drink? We have coffee, but it’s not all that fresh. I could make a fresh pot if you’d like.”

  Our older sister grimaced. “If I have another cup of anything with caffeine in it for the rest of the day, I’m going to scream.”

  “That lets out sweet tea too, then. How about a tall glass of ice-cold milk?”

  “You know what? That sounds wonderful to me,” Kathleen said.

  “Pat?” Annie asked me as she grabbed a glass for herself as well.

  “Make it three,” I said.

  Annie finished setting us all up, and then she came around the counter and sat beside us on one of the free remaining stools. I took a bite of the stew and marveled yet again about how good my twin sister had become cooking with cast iron. “This is amazing,” I said as I reached for a slice of bread.

  “You know my motto. The longer it sits, the better it gets,” she said with a grin.

  Kathleen merely nodded as she continued to eat. I had to wonder if she’d eaten anything that day until she’d come by the Iron.

  After Kathleen finished everything in her bowl, Annie started to stand. “Would you like more? There’s not much left, but you’re welcome to it.”

  “No, I’m stuffed, but thanks for asking.”

  We finished as well, and Annie said, “Let me get these out of the way,” as she reached for the dirty dishes.

  “Can it wait?” Kathleen asked. “I really need to go, but I wanted to talk to you two first.”

  “You mean you didn’t just come by for my cooking?” Annie asked her with a grin.

  “That was just a lucky bonus,” Kathleen said. “I have more news about Timothy.”

  The playfulness went out of our moods at the same time as Annie sat back down.

  “What did you find out?” I asked.

  “First off, we have a positive ID based on dental records. Unfortunately, there’s no mistaking it. The body we found was Timothy Roberts.”

  Annie slumped a little on her stool, and I held out a hand to steady her. After a moment, she nodded and said, “Thanks, Pat. I’m okay.”

  “We knew it was him all along, but it’s good to have proof,” Kathleen said softly.

  “I guess I was just hoping that it was all some big mix-up, that somehow it wasn’t Timothy after all,” Annie said.

  “I understand that.”

  “How did he die, exactly?” I asked. “Was it from the fire?” I hated myself for asking, especially since Annie was clearly feeling so vulnerable at the moment, but Kathleen was willing to talk, and we might not be so lucky if we waited to ask about it later.

  “No, as a matter of fact, it was the smoke that got him,” she said.

  I couldn’t imagine what that might mean, and I wasn’t going to ask Kathleen with Annie sitting close by.

  Annie frowned for a moment when she heard the news. “If it was smoke related, why didn’t he just leave the cabin before he died?”

  It was a fair question, one I’d thought of as well, but not something I was going to ask. That didn’t mean that I wasn’t glad that Annie had.

&nbs
p; “We found him locked in the closet off the living room,” Kathleen said.

  “How do you know the door was locked if everything burned up?” Annie asked her.

  “The door burned to a crisp, but the knob was metal. The mechanism was in the locked position. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

  “So, there’s no doubt that it was murder, then,” I said.

  “Not in my mind, unless he happened to lock himself in his own closet by accident at the same moment a fire started. That’s too big a coincidence for me to swallow.”

  “I agree,” I said.

  Kathleen stood, and Annie and I joined her on our feet. “Anyway, that’s why I came by. I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

  I knew that I had to tell her what we were up to, and not just because she was our sister. As sheriff, she had a right to know that Annie and I were about to dig into this. “Kathleen, we’re not going to stand on the sidelines. You know that, don’t you?”

  Our older sister frowned a moment before she spoke. “I’ve got this under control, and I don’t need the two of you going around stirring up trouble.”

  “I’m sorry that’s the way you feel,” Annie said calmly, “but there are things Pat and I can do, questions we can ask, that you can’t. Let us help you. Please.” The choking in her voice was real; I knew that my twin sister was being sincere, and what was more, I had a hunch Kathleen knew it as well.

  “You both must realize that I can’t officially sanction anything,” she said after a few moments of thought. “So if you want to ask some questions and nose around a little, you’ll have to do it without any official approval from me. Do we understand each other?”

  “Thank you,” I said as I started to hug her.

  She backed up a step. “Hang on; I’m not finished. If you find anything of value, and I mean anything, you come straight to me with it. Agreed?”

  “Of course,” Annie said, but I wasn’t so ready to concur.