The Pickled Piper

by Mary Ellen Hughes

  “It’s something I’ve never tried before,” she said. “It’s made with chamomile citron tea and green apple pectin stock. Let me know how you like it.”

  As Piper watched the coffee shop owner trudge back to her place, Amy commented from behind, “That was nice of you.”

  Piper turned. “If I can picture the chamomile working its soothing magic on Tina, at least a little, I’ll feel better for causing the stress in the first place.”

  “The best stress relief for all of us,” Amy said, “will be coming to the end of this investigation and putting the real murderer in jail.”

  “Amen to that.” Piper saw Amy’s face brighten as her eyes shifted over Piper’s shoulder. Piper turned. Nate was heading their way from the bookshop.

  “Hi!” he said as he pushed through Piper’s Picklings’ door. “Gil sent me off on a lunch break. Mind if I pick up something and bring it back here?”

  “Darn!” Amy said, stamping her foot. “I meant to bring along the leftover beef bourguignon that we all took home from the restaurant last night. With your move into the new apartment on my mind this morning, I walked off without it.”

  Piper remembered Amy calling Nate over to the A La Carte kitchen after his performance the other night and knew Nate’s food budget must be stretched pretty thin now that he was no longer working at the restaurant. A bookshop offered food for the soul but did nothing for the stomach.

  “I still have a bunch of Aunt Judy’s tomatoes upstairs that I’ll never finish. And I have some nice bread in the freezer. Why don’t you two run up and make sandwiches for us all?”

  “Really?” Both Amy’s and Nate’s faces lit up. “That’d be great.” Amy led the way as they trotted up to Piper’s apartment, and Piper’s mouth began to water at the very thought of the gourmet sandwiches Amy would likely throw together. No mere sliced tomato and mayo would suffice for her.

  Within minutes all three were seated in Piper’s workroom, munching on tasty concoctions of crusty bread, mozzarella, tomato, basil, and Piper didn’t know what else. All she knew was that it was delicious. She remembered Will’s comment about the ladies of Cloverdale likely to look after Nate’s care and feeding and made a mental note to put a bee in Aunt Judy’s bonnet in case it wasn’t buzzing around in there already.

  As they ate, Amy brought up their earlier discussion with Gil Williams on possible suspects.

  “Yeah,” Nate said, taking a swig from one of three bottles of green tea Piper had pulled from her workroom refrigerator. He brushed his dark blond hair—in definite need of a trim, Piper noticed—away from his face. “Gil was telling me about that. It’s weird how many people had a reason to knock off Alan Rosemont.” He scowled. “And I was one of them, I guess. But I never acted on it.”

  “That’s what I keep trying to tell Daddy,” Amy said. “He should be looking at these other people.”

  “We don’t know that he isn’t,” Piper said.

  “And we don’t know that he is,” Amy said, her lips pressing into a thin line.

  “Amy,” Nate said, “I don’t want to cause trouble between you and your dad. I really appreciate what you guys are doing on my behalf. But why don’t I take it over from here?”

  “Nate!” Amy cried.

  “I mean it. For one thing, I don’t like that stuff that’s been happening to you, Piper. It could be fallout from all the questions you’ve been asking about this case.”

  “What’s happened is more annoying than worrying,” Piper said.

  “For now,” Nate said. “What if it escalates? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you—or anyone else”—he glanced at Amy—“got hurt because of me.”

  “It wouldn’t be because of you,” Amy insisted. “If anything happened—which it won’t—it would be because of someone who should be in jail for what they’ve done!”

  “It’s too late to call us off, anyway,” Piper said with a smile. “It’s just too darned interesting. I’m learning things about the people of Cloverdale I never would have known otherwise.” She told them the story of Robby Taylor’s grandfather and the gypsy woman from Rochester, which had them chortling.

  “Why don’t I see what I can dig up about Taylor’s financial situation,” Nate said. “I think Gil will let me use his computer off-hours.”

  “That’d be great,” Piper said. “But what can you expect to find? Isn’t most credit info off limits without a person’s permission?”

  “It is, but I may know one or two ways of getting around that. I’ll give them a try and see if they still work.”

  “One or two ways?” Amy asked. “Where would you have picked up anything like that?”

  Nate flushed slightly. “Oh, just from people I used to know. No big thing. Hey, thanks for these great sandwiches, both of you. I’d better be getting back. Gotta make a good impression my first day on the job.” Nate picked up his plate, but Amy took it from him.

  “I’ll clean these up. You go on. Sell a lot of books. And dig up a lot of dirt on Robby Taylor!”

  “I’ll do my best,” Nate said, grinning, but then he sobered. “And be careful, both of you.” With that, he took off, leaving Piper and Amy to their own, unspoken thoughts.

  • • •

  Later that afternoon and shortly before Amy would leave for her second job at A La Carte, Ben Schaeffer walked into Piper’s Picklings. He had on a white shirt and striped tie rather than his auxiliary officer uniform, which told Piper he’d come from his insurance office. But he still managed to project an officer-on-duty attitude, nonofficial though that was. At least until Amy stepped out from the back room. Then his sternness melted to mush.

  “Hi, Ben,” Amy said cheerily. “What’s up?”

  “Hi! Oh, um, not much.” Ben shifted from one foot to the other, fidgeted with his tie, and slipped his hands in and out of his pockets, suddenly looking, Piper thought, more like a middle-school adolescent than the competent businessman he was.

  She took pity on him and asked, “How’s the insurance business going?”

  Ben matured several years at the question. “Not too bad,” he said, straightening. “We have a new small business policy that covers things you might not have thought of if you’d like to look it over.”

  “I think I’m fine for now, Ben, thanks.”

  He nodded. “But that’s not what I’m here for. I wanted to offer a word of warning to you both.”

  “Oh?”

  Piper saw Amy’s cheeriness dim, though Ben seemed oblivious.

  “I’ve just become aware that that musician has moved in next door.” Ben jerked his chin toward the bookshop.

  “That musician has a name,” Amy said, her smile grown stiff. “It’s Nate Purdy.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Ben said with a brushing away gesture as though Nate’s name had no importance. That bothered Piper as much as anything, erasing much of the pity she’d felt earlier for the man.

  “And I know,” Ben continued, digging himself in deeper, “that you tend to see only the good side of people, Amy, but I think you should be very cautious about any dealings with this, uh, with Purdy. We have reason to believe—”

  “You have no reason WHAT-SO-EVER to believe anything bad about Nate!” Amy blurted.

  Her vehemence caught Ben off guard, and he rocked backward.

  “That’s not exactly—” he began, but Amy would have none of it.

  Her eyes flashed. “I don’t know what you and my father have against Nate that you can be so eager to convict him of something he would never, ever do. But I’m telling you, Ben Schaeffer, that you’d better stop it right now or you’ll have me to answer to.”

  “Amy,” Ben pleaded, “it’s nothing personal. You only have to look at the facts.”

  “Facts?” Amy cried. “What facts?”

  Ben stiffened, standing his ground. “He
was seen in a vicious argument with Rosemont only hours before he was murdered. It nearly came to blows.”

  “But it didn’t, did it?” Amy countered. Her face flushed, and Piper wondered if Amy was thinking how close that fight at the fair had actually come to getting physical. If Amy hadn’t been there and called out to Nate, would he have walked away from the confrontation?

  “He has no alibi for the night of the murder,” Ben went on, still blindly trying to bring Amy around to his own way of thinking. “And even worse, he was actually seen entering the alley at the very time Dennis Isley was killed.”

  “Ben Schaeffer, you’re horrible!” Amy cried. “You’ve been putting terrible thoughts in my father’s ear. It’s all because of you that Nate is being persecuted. Go!” she said, pointing at the door. “Get out of here! I never want to see you again.”

  Ben’s face showed the complete shock he must have been feeling. “But I was only trying to protect—”

  “Out!” Amy’s face was florid as she continued to jab her finger at the exit.

  Ben backed away, still obviously confused over Amy’s reaction. Hadn’t he been doing all he did for her own good? Why didn’t she see that? “I’m, ah, that is, okay, I’ll go. But—”

  Amy shook her outstretched hand again toward the door. Ben turned and stumbled out onto the sidewalk, venturing a single look back to see if the creature who’d somehow taken over Amy’s body had returned it to the sweet, lovable young woman he knew. Then he dashed off, disappearing quickly.

  Amy sank onto one of Piper’s stools and crumbled into tears. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s your store. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Completely understandable,” Piper said, wrapping her arms around her assistant’s shoulders and leaning a cheek on the top of her head. “You’ve been under a lot of stress. Ben was the last straw.”

  “I just couldn’t stand listening to what he was saying. And he’s probably not the only one saying it. The awful thing is that he almost had me doubting Nate for a second. What does that mean, then, for all the people who don’t know Nate as well as I do?” Amy wiped her eyes and pulled herself together. “We really have to do something, Piper. And we have to do it fast.”

  Piper nodded. “I know.” But how were they going to figure out what that something would be?

  26

  Piper strolled alongside Will. She had called that evening and asked him to come by. “I just need someone to talk to,” she explained, and he’d shown up without questions, which she liked. They headed out on foot toward the Cloverdale Park playground after Will pointed out that it would be vacant in the approaching dusk.

  They walked past the small shops and businesses with darkened interiors, including, thankfully, Charlotte’s Chocolate’s and Confections. Tina’s coffee shop showed some light in the rear, indicating that Tina might be doing cleanup or prep for the next day’s breakfast menu. Piper hadn’t noticed when she and Will began holding hands. Had she reached for his or was it the other way around? Whichever, it felt natural and comforting.

  “I’m not sure what I’ve gotten myself into,” Piper said, getting to what was weighing on her mind. “I thought I was making progress for a while, but now I don’t know. I’m afraid I’ve only been running in circles, maybe making things worse. Nate’s livelihood is hanging by a thread, and Amy’s nerves are stretched thin. I wanted to help them both, but I haven’t done any good whatsoever.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. Just knowing you’re on their side must make a world of difference to Nate and Amy. And you were Nate’s link to Gil Williams—don’t forget that. Where would he have ended up otherwise?”

  Piper smiled at the thought of Gil, her reclusive neighbor who’d certainly shown he could pull his nose out of a book in a hurry when needed. They arrived at the playground, and Piper wandered over to one of the empty swings and sat down.

  “The trouble is, I feel like I’ve reached a dead end. What I found out isn’t enough, not nearly enough, to convince the sheriff to search for someone beyond Nate.”

  As Piper set the swing into motion, Will leaned against one of the support poles. “He may be focusing on Nate, but at least he hasn’t charged him with anything yet.”

  “Only because he doesn’t have solid evidence against him. What if the real murderer found some way to incriminate Nate? That’s all it would take to get him arrested.”

  “Incriminate? How?”

  “I don’t know.” Piper pushed the swing with one foot. “The murderer might have something with Alan’s blood on it. Or a blackmail note from Dennis Isley. All he’d have to do is plant it on Nate.”

  “You say ‘he.’ You’ve decided, then, that the killer’s a man?”

  “It seems logical, doesn’t it? Alan’s murder required plenty of strength to lift his body into the pickle barrel.” Piper’s lips twitched at another thought. “Though Tina sees Charlotte Hosch as the murderer.”

  Will smiled. “Well, Charlotte’s probably got some muscle on her from stirring all that fudge. Plus, she’s never been one to back down from an argument, has she? I know I wouldn’t like to run into that woman in a dark alley if I’d ever crossed her.”

  Piper grinned. “If she attacked you with her big metal candy spoon, you could always fight her off with your pruning saw.”

  “Which I keep handy in my back pocket, of course. Just in case.”

  “Or you could simply avoid dark alleys.”

  “Better to avoid ever crossing Charlotte Hosch.”

  “Probably the wisest course, if not the easiest.” Piper turned her swing, twisting the chains. “You know, the more I think of it, the more Tina’s claim makes a certain kind of sense. Except I don’t know that Charlotte had any particular reason to kill Alan Rosemont. I’m sure she didn’t like him. Nobody seemed to. But that doesn’t necessarily lead to murder.”

  Piper let the chains unwind, spinning her in circles. When the swing stopped, she sighed. “There I go, down another dead end.” She stood up, swaying dizzily, and Will reached out to steady her.

  “Don’t worry about it too much. You’re doing what you can. You’ve done great, actually. As a matter of fact,” he said, pulling her closer, “I think you’re pretty great.”

  “Really?”

  Piper looked up at Will, ready for what was coming next. Will tightened his hold on her and kissed her, and Piper kissed back. Then she leaned her cheek on his shoulder and gave him a hug. “You really know how to cheer a girl up,” she said against his shirt.

  As an answer, Will tilted her chin up and offered more encouragement, which was, Piper decided, exactly what she needed.

  • • •

  Piper woke. She’d been dreaming, something about fixing waffles—with cucumbers?—and the waffles had started burning—and—she sniffed and smelled smoke. Real smoke. At the same time she heard loud pounding on her door.

  “Piper!” a voice shouted. “Wake up, Piper! Fire!”

  Piper sat up like a shot. A look to her back window showed a horrifying sight: black smoke and flashes of light. She froze for a moment, her brain not willing to believe what her senses were telling it. Then it kicked in, telling her to get out! Get out now!

  Her first confused, panicky thought was to look around and grab what she could save, but the pounding and shouting at her front door escalated, urging her not to waste time. Barefoot and in flimsy cotton pajamas, Piper ran out of her bedroom, spotted her laptop glittering on a tabletop in the terrible glow from the windows and grabbed hold of it, then ran down the front stairway, fumbling blindly at the lock before flinging open the door.

  Nate Purdy stood at her doorstep, hair spiked in every direction but dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers.

  “Thank God! I was ready to break in. I called for help.” As he said it, Piper heard the shriek of sirens. In moments a fire truck r
oared onto her street, lights flashing.

  The rest of the action became a blur. Firefighters spilling from the truck, unwinding a hose, shouting. Someone pulling her away from the building. The hiss of water on flames, more smoke rising from behind her building. Piper clutching the blanket someone had wrapped around her and watching numbly, trying to comprehend all that was going on. What had happened? How could her building have caught fire? What if she hadn’t gotten out in time?

  That last thought made her shiver despite the blanket that warmed her. She looked around for Nate. He stood several feet away, talking to a uniformed man next to the fire truck. That man left him to meet Sheriff Carlyle, who had just driven up. Nate spotted Piper and came over.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I think you saved my life.”

  Nate looked as shaken as Piper knew she would feel as soon as reality sank in. “I saw the flash from my window,” he said. “It overlooks the alley. I called you, but all I have is your shop number. You didn’t answer.”

  “I turn the shop phone off when I close up. Apparently not such a good idea.” What was a good idea, Piper realized, was having decided no longer to leave her car in the dark, unprotected alley after the damage that was done to her tires. She glanced down the block to see her trusty hatchback parked on the street and out of harm’s way.

  “When I couldn’t get you I ran out and pounded on your front door. The flames were at the back.”

  “And closest to my bedroom.” Piper shuddered. “What caused the fire?”

  Nate shook his head, shrugging.

  Piper noticed that spectators had gathered beyond the rescue vehicles. Most looked disheveled, dressed in hastily thrown-on clothes after being roused from bed in the middle of the night by sirens. Though they might have been conversing with each other, none of that carried Piper’s way above the noise and activity surrounding her. Their seemingly silent gazes projected an air of eeriness intensified by the flashing lights. She scanned the faces, hoping to find a familiar and friendly one.

  The first recognizable, though not particularly friendly, face she spotted was Charlotte Hosch’s. Piper’s gaze quickly moved on. It passed over several people she’d seen around the neighborhood or who’d stopped into her shop. She wished she would see Gil Williams, but the bookstore owner, she knew, lived several miles from his shop.