Cat Killed A Rat (Ponderosa Pines Cozy Mystery Series Book 1)

by ReGina Welling

  Once on board with the plan, the powers that be in Gilmore all assumed the residents of Ponderosa Pines would be thankful to be taken under the wing of such a successful town. They had no idea that the scorn with which they viewed what they considered to be the less fortunate was returned twofold by people who valued independence and diversity.

  EV having an in with the town elders—hell, she was practically one of them herself—and being unafraid to speak her mind about how she thought things should be done had not helped either. That woman was a loud-mouthed nuisance, and the fact that she and Evan’s mother had been friends back in the day meant she knew every stupid childhood deed he had ever committed.

  Every time she cast one of her sour looks his way, he knew she must still see him as a capricious boy. The notion that he desired her respect above all others was one that would have surprised him no end if he had ever had the self-awareness to understand or accept it.

  A rustle in the bushes outside the church caught Evan’s attention as he stepped through the door. He stopped to listen for a full minute, but there was not another sound. Stray cat, most likely. Even if he had felt the two pairs of eyes that were now locked on him, his courage was not up to combing the bushes so, with an uneasy feeling, he got back into his car and zoomed away.

  Chapter 8

  Early morning mist hovered over the dew covered grass and was currently soaking through John’s running shoes with each stride as he dodged right to cross the churchyard where it bordered his favorite trail. This shortcut was about as close to the Ponderosa Pines Unitarian Universalist Church as he ever went unless forced there by a wedding or a funeral. Some people might need to act pious and sit in pews once a week, but his method of worship was found in that moment when his feet hit the ground and propelled him forward.

  Step after step.

  Each footfall a prayer.

  Running was in his blood to the point where it passed being an obsession and became a compulsion.

  Muscles just beginning to loosen and warm up, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that the back door of the church was open. Should he just keep going or check to make sure nothing was wrong? He took three long strides before civic responsibility won out over a hedonistic need for the release of endorphins and he turned back to poke his head in the door.

  “Hello?” Dead silence, but for his voice echoed back to him. The last thing he wanted to do was go farther inside; but he did, calling out again all along the hallway that led past a series of empty classrooms and a small kitchenette. Entering the vestibule, he tested the main double doors but they were both locked.

  Nothing appeared amiss, but his conscience wouldn’t let him just leave without checking the whole building so he stepped through the archway into the chapel proper. The only noise he heard was the whisper of his trainers on the carpet and the gentle whoosh of his own breath.

  Eerie stillness crawled across his skin like shivers every time he paused.

  Slowly, his feet carried him toward the altar, then behind it to the anteroom which functioned as both storage and the pastor’s private office. It was there that he made a grisly discovery.

  Luther Plunkett lay dead at the foot of a fallen ladder. John couldn’t bring himself to test for a pulse but, he knew from the angle of the contractor’s neck and the way his eyes stared fixedly at nothing that it was long past too late.

  Swallowing hard kept the contents of his stomach from erupting, but it was a moment or two before he felt capable enough of speech to pull the cell phone out of his pocket and call the authorities. Later, when he told the story, he left out the part where his knees felt shaky at the thought of being alone with a dead body.

  It was only a few minutes, but to John it seemed like an age before Doc Talbot walked through the door.

  “Nate’s on his way. Where’s Luther? Show me.”

  John pointed and Talbot made a beeline to where the contractor lay. “It might be a layman’s opinion, but there’s not going to be anything you can do to help him.” Another shudder ran through him when John recalled the way Luther’s eyes had already begun to cloud over.

  “No, he’s been gone awhile. I need to call it in.” Talbot pulled out his cell and spoke quietly into it. “Nate, I’m on the scene. It’s Luther Plunkett. Unattended death.” A pause. “Eight hours, give or take.”

  It was a long time to lay alone, John thought. Sad how no one had missed the man in all that time. “Looks like you’ve got this under control; I’ll be going now.” John shuffled from one foot to the other. No way he would be finishing his run today. He only hoped the heebie jeebies washed off in the shower because that’s where he was headed just as soon as he got out of here.

  “You might as well stay; Nate will want to talk to you.”

  “I’ll wait outside then.” The air in the church seemed heavy, and when John had cleared the doors, he gulped in deep breaths of clean, pine-scented freshness to clear his head.

  * * *

  Nate Harper arrived on the scene a few moments later. It seemed like an eternity to poor John, who just wanted to get on with his run where he could find his calm again after such a traumatic experience. Dalton Burnsoll followed behind, looking like a fat kid in a candy store. Wide eyes and an avid expression gave away the fact that he was not a seasoned deputy, and that he was finding his first foray into crime scene investigation positively thrilling.

  Regardless of its humble first impressions, the town of Ponderosa Pines hosted rather a lot of expensive, cutting edge green technology. To that end, the board preferred to maintain a small police presence in the form of having at least one resident Deputy. Bud Plaistow filled the law enforcement need for fifteen years, but his recent retirement left a vacancy. For two months the position remained empty until Dalton Burnsoll’s surprising renaissance had pushed him into applying for the job.

  It had been a stroke of luck when Nate Harper arrived to help train Dalton, even on a temporary basis. Convenient besides, since Nate had been a darned good homicide cop before his unfortunate injury. His arrival coincided perfectly with Luther’s untimely death.

  Little did the town know how vehemently Nate did not want to return, and how anxious he was to get back to what he considered his real job. He hoped his shoulder would heal quickly; the less time he had to spend here, the better. The only silver lining he could find was an opportunity to reconnect with Chloe, for whom he had always harbored a crazy, secret crush.

  The span of Nate’s memory, from childhood to the present, was punctuated by flashes of Chloe. Chloe as a small child, blond pigtails bouncing as she ran ahead of him through a corn field, laughter bubbling from her throat. Chloe as a skinny, pre-teen tomboy, lounging on the stream bank next to him while he reeled in sunfish after sunfish. Chloe as a young girl, beautiful and kind, pulling him into another adventure. Each visit she was a new enigma, transformed by the outside world.

  It had never made any sense to pursue her; he knew she wouldn’t be staying long and didn’t want to ruin their friendship. When she returned to Ponderosa Pines Nate had thought about asking her out on a date. They were closer in actual distance than they had ever been, but part of him wondered how long she’d really stick around. Now, three years later, it didn’t look like she was going anywhere, so maybe it was time to find out if she had any romantic interest in him.

  Not that he had as much free time as he had expected. It was up to him to train a new deputy, and it was taking more of his time and energy than he originally thought it would.

  Eager to please, Dalton resembled a happy puppy, never letting Nate out of his sight for more than a moment and lighting up like a Christmas tree whenever he was given the smallest amount of praise.

  For all that, he was actually starting to grow on Nate, who was pleased that someone so zealous had taken up the post. The Pines certainly didn’t need the kind of protection Nate was used to offering; he just hoped Dalton would be able to step up to the plate when the time came for Nate to r
eturn to his post in the city.

  Flashing through town with his lights on turned Nate into the cop equivalent of the Pied Piper. Those who saw him fly by followed and spread the word to everyone else. Within minutes half the town knew something was happening at the church, and quite a few of them gathered outside to gawk and speculate.

  Nate took a quick statement from John, who was by this point visibly worn and reaching the end of his rope, and told him it was okay to leave. One look at the crowd out front turned John’s feet toward the back door of the church. Nothing mattered more right now than slipping away without fielding the inevitable questions.

  “You go; I’ll distract them,” Nate offered before turning to the crowd milling about the church entrance and making a brief statement while John slid unnoticed into the trees. He made a mental note to thank Nate later before letting the peace of his personal sanctuary provide the balm to soothe his soul.

  “There has been an accident here; and, until we have notified the family of the individual involved, I have to ask that you all clear out. We will release a statement as soon as possible. But for now, please let us do what we need to do.” Disappointment colored the faces of a few of the nosier residents, but most seemed to understand and the group dissipated.

  When Nate finally entered the church to survey the crime scene, Dalton followed. What he saw wiped the elation from his face immediately. Though it was not the first dead body he had ever seen, it was the first time he had been privy to the sight of a person who had met their end in a painful and unnatural way.

  Dalton had never cared for Luther Plunkett; they had been thrown together on various town committees over the years, and Luther had always come across as somewhat of an asshat. Still, on a base level, Luther was a human being; and Dalton wasn’t one to assume that what someone showed on the outside was necessarily indicative of what was going on inside.

  Nate watched as Dalton struggled with the scene before him, watched the emotions play across his new deputy’s face: shock, sadness, and anger at the waste of a life all flitted past before he settled on acceptance and determination. It was the exact same experience Nate remembered from his first homicide investigation, and he had seen many a newbie cop who couldn’t handle the realities placed before him. Yes, it appeared that Dalton would be more than capable of serving and protecting once he had been fully trained.

  Chapter 9

  As Chloe approached the neighborhood farmer’s market she could tell that something wasn’t right. The flurry of activity wasn’t light and cheerful as usual; people were up in arms about something.

  Maybe Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb are at it again, she thought to herself. Chloe’s intention had been to admire the various fruits and vegetables gathered each week from the patches of community gardens speckled across Ponderosa Pines before filling her shopping basket with enough greens and herbs to make a lovely salad for dinner.

  Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen.

  Feeling a hand on her shoulder, Chloe turned and greeted EV with a resounding “What the hell is going on?”

  “You haven’t heard yet? Our favorite douchebag bit the dust last night, and word on the street says it looks like someone whacked him.”

  “Have you been watching The Sopranos again, EV?” Chloe chortled. “Word on the street.”

  “Shouldn’t you be the one who knows what’s happening in this town?” EV shot back with a grin that quickly fell from her face in light of the bad news. Luther might be the worst handyman in the history of home repair, but in his own way, he meant well. You only had to watch him with his wife Talia to know that he loved and respected her, so he must have possessed some redeeming qualities.

  With suitably concerned expressions, EV and Chloe linked arms and headed toward the group of citizens gathered in the center of the market.

  “This is supposed to be a safe place to live, not a place where people get murdered in a church,” someone in the middle of the group shouted.

  “We were all at the town meeting the other night, and we all heard several people disagree with Luther’s plan for this town. If this deal is going to cause people to get killed, maybe there’s more to it than we thought,” someone else replied.

  “Or maybe he was right, and we need to think about combining with Gilmore so we can have a bigger police force,” a third citizen said. That voice Chloe recognized right away. Summer Beckett’s nasal tones were as distinctive as her laugh, which sounded like the braying of a donkey.

  “Great,” EV muttered to Chloe. “Now we get to deal with the fallout from this mess. Luther is screwing us over from beyond the grave.” She just knew this was going to light an even bigger fire under Evan’s butt and wasn’t looking forward to dealing with it. Her words may have sounded callous, but they covered sadness at the loss of one of their own.

  Chloe stayed rooted to the spot, listening to the ongoing conversation long after EV headed home. When she felt as though she had gleaned enough information for next week’s column, she turned and carried her pitifully empty string bag back the way she came.

  On two things everyone agreed: Luther had been found at the bottom of a twelve-foot stepladder, and his neck had snapped on impact. Officially, it was too soon to tell; but rumor had it he had been pushed.

  Since too many people might have it out for him, Chloe struggled with finding a clear motive for his murder. Of course, it could have something to do with the annexation proposal, but the details of all that were still too nebulous for anyone to have reacted with this much anger.

  It also seemed unlikely that anyone in town would kill over a matter of an overpriced renovation project. Why risk murder when you could simply sue the bastard?

  No, it has to be personal, she pondered as she absentmindedly wandered back toward her house. That’s the only logical explanation.

  Since she hadn’t picked up any groceries at the market, Chloe decided to whip up something for lunch with what she already had in her cupboards. She was a fairly accomplished cook and kept a well-stocked pantry for situations such as this.

  Chloe reached into her refrigerator and assessed her options. Pulling out a bunch of fresh carrots, a red pepper that was nearing the end of the crisp stage, and the last few celery stalks left in the drawer, she began assembling a crudite platter. Equal parts sour cream and leftover homemade mayonnaise went into a bowl with some chopped dill and parsley, and Chloe finished off the dip with a squeeze of a lemon she found buried deep in the produce drawer.

  All of the scraps, from the lemon rind to the carrot peels, Chloe packed in a plastic bag and stowed in the freezer. She wasn’t one for wasting food, even food that looked inedible to most people. At some point, the delicious tidbits would make their way into stock for a soup.

  She quickly skewered cubes of chicken breast and fresh pineapple while a grill pan was heating on the stove top, then popped half a baguette into the oven to warm. Realizing she had too much food, Chloe picked up the phone and invited EV to join her. By the time EV arrived, the kebabs were caramelizing nicely.

  “Hey Gossip Girl, what’s the skinny?” EV accepted a proffered glass of wine and slid onto a barstool to watch Chloe cook.

  “Your pop culture references are a bit outdated,” Chloe chided.

  “Everything about me is outdated,” EV admitted. “I suppose Luther has already become a sainted figure. I know you’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but how that translates into extolling non-existent virtues is beyond me. He fell off a ladder. It’s not like he jumped in front of a bus to save a puppy.”

  “Rumor has it that it may have been more than a simple slip and fall.” Should she tell EV that her altercation with Luther during the meeting was getting a fair amount of play among the gossip mongers? Or did she already know?

  Chloe’s social media grapevine worked at about the same speed as EV’s old-fashioned one, much to their amusement. In fact, Chloe had proposed an experiment where each of them would start a rumor and th
en see which one spread the quickest.

  “And since we argued in a public place, I’m the most likely candidate for being the one to give him a shove.” EV waggled her eyebrows in her best menacing manner.

  “Yep, that is the current speculation—at least among a small subset of residents. Newcomers mostly. The oldtimers are pretty much split between thinking Luther had an unfortunate accident or was too stupid to be up on that ladder in the first place. On one thing both those factions agree: that was a Nader ladder.”

  “Unsafe at any speed?”

  “Exactly. He’s well known for not taking care of his tools.”

  “Seems funny that his wife didn’t miss him. You’d think she would notice he never came home.”

  Chloe flipped the burner off under the kebabs while saying over her shoulder, “Maybe the rhythm finally got her and she was out shaking it at The Yard again. I don’t know. But here’s a snippet of next week’s column for you: What pair of ornery sisters have been causing embarrassing scenes from The Mudbucket all the way to the chicken coop?”

  “Lottie and Talia? What’s the beef with them this time?”

  “Such is the question on everyone’s lips.”

  “You get all this off the ‘net?” As comfortable here as in her own home, EV moved into the kitchen to pull two place settings from Chloe’s ruthlessly organized cabinets while the younger woman put the finishing touches on their meal. This kind of thing happened so often the pair of them moved through the compact space with the precision of a water ballet.

  “Not this time. Totally old-school. I hit the farmer’s market intending to stock up on some fruits and veggies, and instead I got an earful.”