The Pickled Piper

by Mary Ellen Hughes

  “You’re probably safe in your opinion of Will.”

  “So, you like him, too?”

  “I think he’s a very nice guy. And I know half the town is already planning what to wear to our wedding. But we’re still getting to know each other. Being a great guy and being the right guy aren’t always the same thing.”

  “Of course, dear.” Aunt Judy paused. “Scott’s gesture—sending those beautiful flowers—does that cloud the waters?”

  Piper shook her head, laughing ruefully. “You could say that. It’s so unlike him, at least the Scott he was toward the end. But I haven’t seen him for weeks while he’s been traveling the world and ‘finding himself.’ Maybe this separation has been doing him some good? Or maybe he’s experiencing a touch of temporary insanity. I just don’t know what to think.”

  Aunt Judy reached over and patted her arm. “Don’t overthink it, would be my advice. You have two men vying for your attention. Enjoy that for now, and as they say, ‘Just go with the flow.’”

  Piper grinned at her aunt, and they lapsed into a comfortable, thoughtful silence the rest of the ride.

  As Piper pulled into the farmhouse driveway, she saw Uncle Frank step out onto the front porch. Jack, their lovable mixed breed, barked and ran excitedly to meet them. Piper climbed out and ruffled Jack’s fur before he darted to Aunt Judy’s side of the car.

  Uncle Frank trotted down the porch steps to give each of them a peck on the cheek. Piper thought his greeting fairly restrained and expected to hear that a large piece of farm equipment had gone on the fritz or some such complaint. But what her uncle said turned out to be much worse.

  “Bill Vanderveen just called,” he said, his bushy brows knit tight. “There’s been a bad accident in town. Dennis Isley took a fall from Ira Perkins’s roof. They’re not sure he’s going to make it.”

  15

  After that glum news, Aunt Judy’s excellent dinner was consumed but hardly enjoyed. Several calls concerning Dennis Isley interrupted them as well as ensured that any conversation in between would be somber.

  “Bill thinks he might have tripped over his own tools,” Uncle Frank said at one point.

  “Ira Perkins’s roof is so steep,” Aunt Judy responded, her lower lip trembling. Gracie, the plump gray cat, took this as a cue to jump onto her lap, something Aunt Judy normally disallowed during meals. But that night she held on to the cat and gently stroked its fur.

  When they finished the meal, Piper helped clean up, then felt there was nothing more she could do and bid her aunt and uncle good night. She left, with hugs and a basket of fresh-picked tomatoes, knowing little more about Dennis’s condition. However, not long after she arrived home, her uncle called.

  “We just got word, peanut. Dennis died at the hospital.”

  Piper gasped softly. Though the handyman hadn’t been anywhere near a friend of hers, his death was still a shock. He was, after all, a person Piper had very recently seen and spoken to. Feelings of guilt flooded in as well, both because she’d disliked the man when he was alive and had been more than happy to suspect him of murder. She tried reminding herself that death tended to transform villains into angels but still found the news hard to deal with.

  The next morning, Piper dragged herself from bed, knowing she faced a day of nonstop talk about the accident. She pulled out her box of quick-cooking oatmeal to fortify herself and brewed a generous pot of strong coffee. When she raised the shade on her shop door, the sun was shining brightly, and Cloverdale looked quiet and peaceful. Piper was sure that would change, though, and was soon proved right. Within minutes Mrs. Peterson popped in, professing to have come to reschedule her canning and pickling class but getting around rapidly to Dennis Isley.

  “I understand that Ira Perkins heard the fall,” she said, “but thought Dennis had dropped a load of shingles. Dennis had a rope system for pulling the shingles up to the roof, you know, so he wouldn’t have to carry them all up the ladder. Mr. Perkins’s hearing isn’t the best, of course, which is why I suppose he didn’t mind staying home while Dennis was banging away overhead. When I had my roof redone a few years ago the noise was so awful, it sent me running to my sister’s. I can only imagine if you listened to that all day, one more thud would barely be noticed.”

  “Then why did Mr. Perkins think he heard Dennis fall?” Piper asked.

  Mrs. Peterson winced. “Because he also heard Dennis cry out. But Ira put it to his having dropped the shingles, as I said. Poor man—Dennis, I mean. Who knows if he might have survived if he’d gotten help sooner.”

  “I don’t think so,” Emma Leahy said as she pushed through Piper’s door. “Dennis landed on alley concrete, and his head injuries, I heard, were terrible. There’s no way he could have survived except maybe as a vegetable for the rest of his life, and who’d want that?” Emma turned to Piper. “I came by to get another canning jar for my pickled okra, by the way.”

  As Piper went to get the jar, a third person entered her shop, Mr. Laseter, the man who had first clued her in about the plumber, Ralph Farber.

  “Did you ladies hear about the accident?” he asked.

  Needless question, Piper thought, and he paid for it by getting an earful and then some from both women. Mr. Laseter, it seemed, had come by to buy a jar of Piper’s pickles—any kind—having felt concern for how her business might have suffered after Alan Rosemont’s murder. Her business, however, wasn’t currently suffering at all, and as the morning wore on, the sight of two or more people in conversation inside her shop seemed to suck in several others to pick over the grisly details and, by the way, pick up spices or pickles while they were there.

  Piper was relieved when Amy finally arrived, which would give her a chance to rest her ears as well as her feet. She’d been bustling about, gathering merchandise while listening to the same information—and plenty of off-the-wall misinformation—shared and repeated, contradicted and dissected. Amy, however, seemed uncharacteristically quiet as she tucked her purse under the counter, and Piper asked, “Are you okay?”

  Amy’s brow puckered. “Nate’s not answering my calls and texts.”

  Piper handed a customer her bagged purchase of spices before turning back to Amy. “When did you last hear from him?”

  “Late last night. I’d stayed behind at the restaurant to finish a few things in the kitchen and texted him when I got home. He answered to say good night and that he’d call me in the morning. But he didn’t.”

  Piper didn’t know what to say. Normally, not hearing from one’s boyfriend for a few hours wouldn’t be much to worry about. But things had been far from normal lately. So much so that Piper was beginning to forget what that state was like.

  “Maybe it’s just a cell phone problem,” she offered. Then, thinking the ongoing busyness might be a good distraction, she asked, “Mind taking over? I’m in huge need of a break.” Amy nodded, managing to put some enthusiasm into it, and Piper left care of the shop to her.

  She trotted upstairs and headed for a soft chair in her living room, kicking off her shoes and pulling the hassock closer. As she stretched her legs out, Piper heaved a sigh of pleasure. Unfortunately, besides comfort, her position also provided a direct view of Scott’s roses. Of course, a bouquet that large was hard to miss from nearly any spot in her small apartment.

  Piper shook her head as she stared at it. Was she the only woman in the world who was less than thrilled to receive such an amazing gift of flowers from a boyfriend? An ex-boyfriend, she reminded herself. But maybe Aunt Judy was right. She should just go with the flow.

  Piper inhaled the flowers’ pervasive perfume, which was lovely. It reminded her of one of their early dates, when Scott had taken her to a very nice dinner. As they’d strolled away from the restaurant toward his car, Scott had stopped at a street vendor’s cart and bought her a small bouquet of violets. It was a spontaneous, romantic gesture that made Piper s
mile even now, just thinking about it.

  There had been fewer of those gestures, however, as their relationship progressed. Scott’s career kept him busier, and he began to take her more and more for granted. He’d won her over, his attitude seemed to say, and now he didn’t need to work at it anymore.

  Had Scott’s travels caused him to rethink that attitude? Had it finally begun to sink in that Piper had broken up with him and that he was going to have to get busy at winning her back and changing his ways if he had any hopes of a future with her? Did Piper want him to win her back?

  A screech from below jerked Piper forward in her chair. Amy’s voice! Piper scrambled up and rushed to the top of her stairs.

  “No!” she heard Amy cry. “No! That’s not right!”

  Piper grabbed her shoes and rushed down to the shop. Erin and Megan stood beside a distraught Amy. Erin spotted Piper first and explained.

  “Nate’s been taken back in for questioning.”

  “Questioning about what?” Piper asked. “I thought he answered everything he could about Alan Rosemont.”

  “Not Alan. For Dennis Isley.”

  “Dennis! But that was an accident. Wasn’t it?”

  “Once in a while my idiot brother, Ben,” Megan said, “turns into someone who’s actually useful.” She tossed her blond hair away from her face. “He told me Amy’s dad is suspicious that Dennis’s fall was murder. First of all, it seemed too coincidental for someone with a connection to Alan Rosemont to die within days of Alan’s murder. Dennis, you know, did plenty of odd jobs for Alan, even though he didn’t like him much.”

  “Right,” Piper said. “And Dennis got the library painting job through Alan.”

  Megan nodded. “Then, there was the fact that Dennis knew how to handle himself on a roof. He was experienced and had all the right safety precautions in place. He had a rope system for pulling up shingles, and the rope ran through a clip of some type on his tool belt.” She turned to Erin. “What did Ben call it?”

  “A carabiner.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, it’s a gadget that roofers use to keep from losing the rope. Ben said there was no reason Dennis should have been pulled off the roof by that rope under normal circumstances. There was nothing for it to accidentally catch on and so forth. The only thing that could have happened is that someone down below pulled on it and surprised Dennis, making him fall.” She added, “And Mr. Perkins claims he saw a figure—that’s all he could say, ‘a figure’—outside his window around that time.”

  Piper gasped at the picture Megan had drawn. It was horrible. But she couldn’t fill in the rest of it with Nate’s face. It just wouldn’t fit. “Why Nate?”

  “Nate was seen going into the alley around that time,” Erin said, her face glum.

  “Oh Lord,” Piper said. “He might have. He was here at the shop picking up the tarragon for you, Amy, before heading to work. It wasn’t long after when we heard the sirens. Would that alley have been a shortcut to A La Carte?”

  “Yes,” Amy said, shaking her head. “But that doesn’t mean anything. Nate might have walked behind the Perkins’ house, but he never would have done such a terrible thing. Never!”

  “How did he seem when he arrived at the restaurant?” Piper asked.

  “Perfectly fine! Normal. Happy! There’s no way he could have just killed someone and been so cool. He’d have to be some kind of monster, and he’s not!”

  “No, definitely not,” Piper agreed.

  “Tell your father that,” Erin urged. “Tell him how natural Nate was when he showed up.”

  “Oh, I will,” Amy said. “I definitely will. I just don’t know that it will make a difference. Daddy’s always pointing out that he needs facts, not opinions.”

  “Well, we’ll have to dig up the facts, then,” Piper said. “If that rope was yanked, it was by someone else. We’ll just have to find out who that was.”

  Brave words, Piper thought. Now to accomplish it. She took a deep breath. “So, first we have to see who benefits from Dennis Isley’s death. Any thoughts?”

  She looked from one to the other, but all she got were blank stares. Not a great start.

  “Okay,” she said, pulling out her notebook of suspects from under the counter and dragging over a tall stool. “Let’s assume Dennis’s death had something to do with Alan Rosemont.”

  “Can we?” Megan asked.

  “Two violent deaths within days of each other in a small town? There has to be a connection. Unless you know of any other reason for Dennis to be murdered?”

  Megan shook her head. “He didn’t have anything anyone would want that I know of.”

  “Then we could go with the theory that Dennis was a difficulty that needed to be removed. Maybe he knew or saw something, possibly without even realizing its significance. Otherwise, wouldn’t he have reported it?” Or maybe not, knowing Dennis. But that was another problem.

  Piper looked at her list of names. “We have the Pfiefles, Ralph Farber, and Robby Taylor as suspects in Rosemont’s murder.” She quietly drew a line through the fourth name on the list—Dennis’s. Piper looked up at the three friends. “We need to know where these people were when Dennis was pulled off the roof.”

  “Erin and I can check on Gordon Pfiefle, find out if he was at his supermarket or not.”

  “I can stop at the library on the way to the restaurant and check on Lyella,” Amy said.

  “Good,” Piper said. “I’d just as soon not have to go there myself for a while.” That coaxed a wan smile from her helper. All four looked up at the sound of voices as two chattering women approached the door to the pickling shop. “Go ahead,” Piper told Erin and Megan. “Let us know what you find out.”

  As they left and the two new customers came in, Piper braced herself to be bombarded with round two of the Dennis Isley accident story, hoping that amid all the whirlwind of gossip, something helpful might actually fly out—and that Amy could hold it together if Nate’s name came up.

  16

  Amy kept her composure at the shop, but only because Nate’s name didn’t come up during the customers’ continual rehashing of Dennis Isley’s death. Apparently word of Nate once again being a “person of interest” hadn’t gotten around yet. It was only a matter of time, though, so Piper sent Amy off early to stop at the library and check on Lyella Pfiefle’s activities at the time of Dennis’s fall, before heading on to A La Carte. There was still Robby Taylor’s and Ralph Farber’s whereabouts to pinpoint, and Piper was thinking about how to do that when Charlotte Hosch walked in.

  “Oh!” Charlotte said as she glanced around, her mouth pursed into a sour look. “She’s gone.”

  “Do you mean Amy?” Piper asked.

  “Yes, of course! I wanted to offer her a word of advice.”

  Oh Lord, Piper thought, and felt that at least one piece of luck had graced Amy’s day—disappearing before Charlotte arrived.

  “Advice?” Piper asked to be polite, though Charlotte had been sinking rapidly on her list of “Those Who Deserve a Modicum of Courtesy.”

  “Concerning that young man she’s been spending time with. The musician.” Charlotte pronounced that last word as Piper might have said tomato blight or fruit rot.

  Piper stood a bit straighter. “What about Nate?”

  “He’s trouble, obviously. Pure trouble. As the sheriff’s daughter, Amy Carlyle needs to steer clear of him, and for her own good, as well. I felt it was my duty to make that clear to her.”

  At that moment, Tina walked into the shop. “Piper, did you know Nate—oh! Charlotte!” Tina rocked back on her heels at the sight of the not-so-sweet confectioner.

  “You came to tell Miss Lamb about Nate Purdy being taken in for questioning, I presume?”

  “Y-yes,” Tina said. “I guess I didn’t need to.” She turned to Piper. “It’s just so upsetting! Why should t
hey harass the boy like that? First because of Alan, now about Dennis. It doesn’t make any sense!”

  “It makes all the sense in the world,” Charlotte countered. “Nobody knows a thing about that young man. There’s no reason whatsoever to trust him. I’m convinced he saw Alan as an obstacle and therefore removed him. The same with Dennis, though I don’t know exactly why in that case. But he acted as soon as he saw the opportunity.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tina said, her voice rising. “What opportunity?”

  “Nate was seen entering the alley,” Piper said. “Apparently close to the time Dennis fell.”

  “That’s crazy!” Tina cried. “Who keeps track of foot traffic in an alley? Nate couldn’t have been the only person walking through there, anyway. What bonehead picked him out specifically as the one to report?”

  Charlotte drew herself up to her full, five-feet-eight height, looking, with her prickly mop of steel-colored hair and pointed nose, not unlike an angry ostrich ready to strike. “I did.”

  “You!”

  “Somebody has to act with more than an ounce of intelligence around here! I saw Nate Purdy slip furtively into that alley and thought to myself that he was up to no good. Little did I know how right I was.”

  “You don’t know anything!” Tina’s face had turned florid. “You’re just a busybody who thinks the worst of everyone. Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused that boy?”

  “I never shirk my duty simply to avoid unpleasantness.”

  “No, you go looking for unpleasantness, you miserable—”

  “Ladies!” Piper cried. “Enough, please. Tina, it’s no good getting yourself worked up. That won’t help Nate at all. The only thing that will help him is finding out the truth.”