by Darci Hannah
“They’ve been soaked in rum,” I said, dropping the pulverized pits back into the garbage.
“Nice work, Sherlock, but I can smell that from here—rum and rotting banana peel. You didn’t actually need to dive in there to figure it out, but I’m kinda impressed you did.”
“I forgot that you’re a rum aficionado.”
“I’ve told you thousands of times, every good weekend is fueled by rum.”
“Well … not every good weekend. Not for Jeb. That’s got to be the source of the poison.”
Tay twisted her lips in a troubled expression. “I had a hunch something was up when I found a blender in the dishwasher.”
“A blender?” I was impressed that the sight of a blender had caused her to open the lid on the garbage can.
Then Tay added, “Well, not just a blender. Among all the plates and coffee mugs, I found a strainer and funnel. I thought it a bit odd. And it’s just our luck that whoever did this ran the dishwasher. Everything’s spotless. Not a fingerprint left behind.”
Abandoning the garbage can, I went to the dishwasher to investigate. I pulled out the lower rack and took a picture of the blender among the plates. I did the same with the top rack where the funnel and strainer were. I then looked in the bottom of the dishwasher by the drain, pulled out the collection screen, and found what I was looking for: a few granular pieces of pulverized cherry pit. “As if we needed it, here’s further evidence. Who’d be brazen enough to grind the cherry pits right here in the processing shed?”
“What I want to know,” Tay said, “is where they got all those pits in the first place? I’ve checked all these shelves. There’s a few bags of dried cherries, cherry granola, herbal cherry blossom tea, and a ton of coffee. The fridge is stocked with water, soda, and a few abandoned lunches.”
“From a box in Jeb’s office,” I told her. “I found one full of clean, dried cherry pits just like the ones in the orchard.” My phone buzzed then. Hannah had sent me a text. The orchard tour had left the lighthouse. I looked back at Tay. “I have no idea why he’d have a box of pits, but I’m sure whoever did this got the pits from that box, ground them up, soaked them in rum, and somehow got Jeb to drink it.” I then remembered the open can of Coke sitting on Jeb’s desk.
We both ran back to the office. Tay swore when she saw the broken glass on the floor. I sniffed at the can of Coke on the desk. It was half full and, as far as I could tell, only contained Coke. That’s when Tay opened a desk drawer.
“Bingo!” she cried. “A bottle of rum, and I’ll lay odds it’s been tampered with.”
“Don’t touch it,” I warned, and snapped another picture. “Jack told me that murder is usually a personal crime. He might be right. Whoever did this knew Jeb’s habits. They knew he was keeping dried cherry pits in his office, and they knew he liked to have a drink after work. Who knew Jeb was a rum and Coke kind of guy?”
“What are you doing?” Tay asked.
“Sending Jack a text. Although he’s forbidden me to snoop around, he did ask me to let him know if I came across anything suspicious. We just found the actual murder weapon. I have to let him know.”
“Wait!” Tay warned. “Don’t send it yet.” She was biting her lip, looking extremely troubled. “You’re not going to like this. I wasn’t going to tell you either—not until you said that whoever did this knew Jeb’s habits. I found the base of that blender in one of the cupboards, Whit. Whoever owned it had a label maker, and they put their name on it. According to the label, that blender belongs to Jenny Lind.”
“Grandma Jenn? That’s ridiculous. Why would she leave it here? And why would she know anything about Jeb’s habits?”
“You don’t know?” Tay cried. Seeing that I didn’t, she added, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but if anyone knew Jeb’s habits, it would be your grandma. They’ve been engaged in a torrid affair for the last two years. I even stumbled upon them one night. They were skinny dipping in the lake near Jenn’s beach. And let me tell you—”
“Nope,” I said, cutting her off right there. I didn’t need to hear any more. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Probably because it’s none of my business. They’ve been friends for years, but they were keeping the affair secret. Maybe Jeb was two-timing her and she found out.”
It was then I remembered the look on Gran’s face before we’d left for the orchard. Had it been remorse? Guilt? Whatever it was, I felt even more sure that she knew something she wasn’t letting on. Tay was right—I needed to get to Grandma Jenn before Jack did. I deleted the text message.
“Do you hear that?” Tay asked. It was the sound of drunken voices raised in bawdy song. Tate was leading them. “The orchard tour. We need to move fast.”
Nineteen
Having just discovered the source of the poison that killed Jeb, and the fact that Grandma Jenn’s blender was involved, Tay and I felt a pressing need to leave the processing shed and get back to the inn as quickly possible. We made for the front door, hoping to beat Tate, who’d be coming from the other direction. From the sound of the tractor I could tell that he was still on Lighthouse Road, although he was swiftly closing the distance. Tay poked her head out the door, making sure the coast was clear. I was about to slip by her when she blocked me with her arm and quietly shut it again. “Dammit,” she breathed.
“What? Tate’s here? Already?” I couldn’t believe it.
“Not Tate. It’s far worse. Jack’s here, and he’s got the crime scene unit from Sturgeon Bay with him. We can’t go out there—especially not with that!” She pointed to the base of Grandma Jenn’s blender tucked under my arm.
I had to admit, it didn’t look good. It looked like I was trying to tamper with crime scene evidence, which I most definitely was. It was becoming a disturbing habit. After all, I’d taken a cherry pit from the crime scene in the orchard, and now I was lifting the base of the blender that had been used to make the poison. What the heck was happening to me? All this sleuthing was getting under my skin. I was growing shifty. I was suspicious of nearly everyone and everything. Heck, even the orchard seemed menacing to me now. Truthfully, I’d never considered taking anything from the processing shed … until Tay had dropped her secret little bombshell on me. Jeb Carlson and Grandma Jenn having a torrid affair! But really, all the signs were there. Had I been paying more attention to my family, I might have figured it out myself instead of being blindsided by the salacious details. But I’d now heard them. There was no unhearing that kind of thing.
And I had seen the look on Grandma Jenn’s face when she’d heard we were going to the orchard. Then, too, there was Tay’s offhanded remark about poison being a woman’s weapon. Would Grandma Jenn even know how to make poison? Of course she would! She was smart, charmingly devious, knew everything there was to know about cherries, and was alarmingly well-versed in weird Scandinavian superstition. She also had the internet. But would she knowingly harm anyone? I couldn’t believe that she would. So why was her blender in the break room kitchen? Why had it been used to pulverize cherry pits and steep them in Jeb’s rum? Why had it been so thoroughly washed in the dishwasher? Those questions had prompted me to grab the blender. Mother-loving fudgeballs, I had to! It had my gran’s name on it! What else was a granddaughter to do?
Probably think more clearly before covering crime scene evidence with her fingerprints, I mentally berated myself—after the blender was already in my hands.
There was nothing else for it now. I had to get to Grandma Jenn before Jack came pounding on her door, which he eventually would. There was a gold mine of evidence in Jeb’s office. And Jack was a good detective. I may have pointed out the cherry pits at the crime scene to him, but I was pretty darn sure he was well-versed in cyanide poisoning, including all the ways to make it.
Beyond the door came the crunching of boots on gravel. Jack and his team were swiftly approaching. If he fo
und me in the processing shed with the blender in my arms—after warning me not to snoop around—he’d likely have me arrested. Heck, I’d have me arrested.
“Quick!” I whispered to Tay, and we darted back the way we’d come. We were in the break room when we heard Jack’s voice. It sent a wave of pure terror shooting through me. He was in the building, briefing the people who’d accompanied him.
“Is there another way out of here?” Tay croaked in a panicked whisper.
“There’s the side entrance the employees use. Come on.” I headed for the back hallway.
Tay grabbed my arm and stopped me. “Put that damn thing back,” she hissed.
“I’d love to. But my fingerprints are all over it.” Which was the God’s honest truth. And there was no way I wanted Jack to find out I’d been here.
However, I imagined he would be happy to learn I was being punished for my momentary lapse in judgement, because while Jack and the investigative unit from Sturgeon Bay were slowly sweeping through the building, working their way toward us, Tate and the orchard tour had finally arrived. They were staying well clear of the police as Tate gave a little spiel about the processing sheds, which was wise. Unfortunately, he’d parked the hayride six feet from the side door. Sneaking back into the orchard with the clunky crime scene blender tucked under my sweatshirt was no longer an option.
We were squatting beside the door when I whispered a new plan. “We could wait until Tate leaves, but it’s risky. Jack might find us first. Therefore, I propose we shoot for the woods, make our way down to the shoreline, and work our way back to the inn from there. Okay?”
“Sure. No problem,” Tay whispered back sarcastically. “So, we just saunter out there like no big deal, waving to Tate and the twenty other people with him while you try to hide that blender under your shirt? Are you nuts?”
I held up my iPhone. “You forget. We have a team member on board. I’m sure I can induce Hannah to tear herself away from Briz long enough to create a diversion.”
Tay’s eyes flew wide with caution. But it was too late. I’d already pressed send, cringing slightly as I did so. After all, the message—Imperative! Create Diversion NOW!!—could be interpreted in many ways.
For Hannah, it apparently meant a random, blood-curdling scream in the middle of Tate’s narration. It was a hell of a diversion. Unfortunately, everyone inside the building heard it too. I distinctly heard Jack swear. And neither one of us could ignore the sound of boots running in our direction.
“Okay. That’ll work,” Tay said prosaically. Keeping low, we both slipped out the door.
The moment we were out, Hannah saw us. A new urgency hit her when she realized that we needed to make it into the woods. I caught the ghost of a grin as she jumped to her feet and began high-stepping while flailing her arms like propellers. “Bees! Bees! Bees!” she cried, much to the jaw-dropping horror of everyone. “Oh God, the pain!” Bless her, it created quite the panic.
We ran, then, fast as our legs would carry us. No sooner had we landed in the shelter of the woods than the door we’d just exited flew back on its hinges.
“Stay down,” Tay hissed. “It’s Detective McSpeedy. He looks angry … yet remarkably fit. He’s not even breathing heavily. Impressive.”
I peered through the screen of dense foliage and saw Jack leap onto to the hay wagon with a heroic disregard for the imaginary bees. Everyone on board was freaking out. Tate was already there, trying to console Hannah. And then I noticed the one man sitting idly on his hay bale while the chaos swirled around him. It was Briz, and the full force of his magnetic gaze was on me. The moment he realized I was looking at him from my hiding place behind a screen of spring foliage, he smiled. He had a very charming smile.
∞
Our trek through the woods was swift, made even quicker by that lingering, unsettling feeling that something or someone was watching us. Our cherry orchard bordered a state forest. There was a good deal of dense, beautiful, state-protected woodland between our property and the next town over. And there was no telling what creatures were foraging in it. Bears were not uncommon, although I had never heard of anyone being attacked by one … yet.
When Tay and I reached the family quarters of the inn, we learned that the orchard tour had already unloaded. While Tay went to clean herself up, I stood in the shadow of the high hedgerow, looking to see if Grandma Jenn was somewhere under the tent. A crowd had gathered, Tate’s bright blond head sticking out like a beacon among them. Hannah was there as well, enjoying herself. Good for her, I thought, and smiled at the fact that no one seemed particularly concerned that she hadn’t been disfigured or seized with anaphylactic shock from the bee incident.
Lunch was about to be served, and for this reason my eyes were drawn to the group of cute high school waitresses milling by the bar. I supposed they were awaiting drink orders. And while they waited the busboys were there to keep them company. It made me smile, the innocent flirtation of the young people. It brought to mind my own high school days and the many years I’d worn the same apron. The Cherry Orchard Inn had always made it a priority to hire local kids for the dining room, where they worked under the more experienced managers. I realized it had been a long time since I’d paid attention to the wait staff. The faces were all unfamiliar, but it looked like they were a close-knit group of friends.
Then, however, like a herd of deer turning in unison toward an unsettling sound, all the young heads swiveled to a spot on the patio. I turned as well and saw another young man approaching, although he wasn’t as young. He was a bartender, near my own age and running a little late for his shift. And with that black hair, movie-star look, careless smile, and beautifully made body, they would forgive him a few minutes, I mused. Heck, they’d likely forgive him anything short of murder with that face. I had to commend head chef Bob Bonaire for hiring this man. When the tourists descended on the Cove, this bartender would have quite the following. I allowed myself one more look and then stepped back from the bushes. Grandma Jenn wasn’t under the tent. A short while later, I learned from Mom that she’d gone to her own house for lunch.
Before me was a very distasteful task, one that I needed to confront alone. Leaving Mom in the dark, and Tay beside her for moral support, I took my crime scene blender base and got in my car. It was time I paid my gran a long-overdue visit.
Twenty
Grandma Jenn lived in a charming little Cape Cod less than a mile from the orchard. It sat at the end of a long gravel driveway, nestled in the woods and right on the shore of Cherry Cove Bay. She had moved there years ago, after selling the old Victorian mansion to my parents. I liked her house. It was quaint, cozy, and smelled like everything good from my childhood. It was the perfect home at the perfect distance—not too far from the orchard and only a short walk to the center of town. Although she’d grown up in the grand old Victorian, I really couldn’t imagine her living anywhere else but here. I got out of my car with the blender base and knocked on her door.
“My dear girl,” she said a heartbeat later, immaculately dressed and framed in the doorway, “it’s about time you came for a visit. I’ve made sandwiches. Turkey, avocado, and sprouts, your favorite. I see you’ve found my blender.”
The fact that she’d been waiting for me was a little unnerving. Taken off guard, I was speechless and willingly handed over the blender as I followed her inside.
She whisked me across the tiled entryway and down the hall, straight toward the large windows of the great room. Her house was just as I remembered it, full of sunlight and warm inviting smells. Beyond the windows sat her patio, and her rose garden about to bloom. The lake, flanked by greenery, red, pink, and white blossoms, and the stolid branches of oak and cedar sparkled in the distance like a sea of precious gems. On the patio a little wrought-iron table had already been set, topped with a flowered tablecloth, cloth napkins, delicate china, and silverware. Sandwiches awaited, along
with a pitcher of iced tea with fresh mint leaves floating on top. It was strangely reminiscent of the tea parties we used to have when I was young. I didn’t know how much I’d missed this place, or her, until that very moment. It all came crashing down on me like a rogue wave on an unsuspecting beach, leaving me helpless and humbled. And I hated myself for the questions I was about to ask. I suddenly remembered Jack’s prophetic words: Sometimes when you’re digging for answers, you uncover things you’re not quite ready for—things that maybe you wish you hadn’t uncovered in the first place. This, I thought grimly, was definitely one of those times.
“What a terrible thing it is,” she began, breaking the silence while motioning for me to take a seat at the table, “the death of an old friend. It tears at your heart. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to mourn him as he should be mourned, but there’ll be time for that later.” She poured me a glass of tea and sat down as well. “So, you’ve found out that we were having an affair.”
The bluntness of her statement caused me to lose control of my jaw. It dangled. And I hastily took a sip of iced tea, hoping she wouldn’t notice. My gran was never one to beat around the bush, but dang it! This was hardly the topic I wished to discuss over tea and sandwiches. Then again, from her point of view, it was a wise opening gambit. Get it out in the open. Thrust the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room under the spotlight.
I drank half the glass of tea before replying, “Yea, I might have heard something about that.” She folded her hands and raised her eyebrows, prompting me to expound, “Okay, I just heard about it—from Tay of all people. Gran, why didn’t you tell me?”