by Nan Sampson
Marg grinned back at her. “Me too. And if I think of anything… I mean, anyone else, I’ll let you know.” She glanced over at the timer on the stove. “I’ve got to get these out in a minute. You going to be staying for lunch?”
Ellie shook her head. “No, not today. I need to get back to my own place.”
“Are you really going back there?” Marg gave a faux shudder. “I don’t know that I could. Too creepy.”
Her jaw set. “No one is going to scare me away from my own house. And I mean no one.”
Chapter 22
Someone, probably one of the Kleins, had driven her car to the Inn, dropping the keys off with Arabella’s niece Chloe at the front desk. Retrieving the keys, Ellie hopped in the VW and as she rattled down the long drive towards the road, she considered what she’d learned. So Louisa was having an affair with Todd Hertz. He had to be a good fifteen years older than her. Since it looked fairly intense, Ellie figured it had either just started or it was a rekindling of something that had been going on before Lu left for New Mexico. Either way, they were an odd couple. He looked so…professor-ish. Maybe the Goth look was just posturing, but she’d been wearing it so long, it now fit her. Still, what on earth could they possibly have in common?
She urged her ancient car down the long hill, listening to the odd ticking sound it had started making lately, praying the darn thing lasted her through just one more year. Next year maybe she could get a new one. Or a ‘new to her’ one. Right now, however, there was just no flex in the budget for it, especially if she couldn’t open in time for the summer tourist season.
It was going on ten by the time she pulled up in front of the Police Station. Outside, parked in the small lot, she spotted Gruetzmacher’s huge, white 4x4. Good. Maybe he’d have some answers for her.
One look at his unusually grim face as she was ushered ceremoniously into his tiny, crowded office and her hopes fell.
“So what kind of trouble are you in today, Ms. Gooden?”
“None. But it’s early.”
That at least got a smile out of him. “It is indeed. You want some coffee?”
She shook her head. She knew what cop shop coffee was like. “I just wondered if you knew anything more. About last night. About Artie.”
“Nothing I’m prepared to share with you. You’ll be happy to know your driveway is clear, but I’d just as soon you continue staying at the inn for a bit. I looked around some more out there this morning. Someone’s been peering in your windows and they left a handful of cigarette butts in the bushes. You don’t smoke, do you?”
She shook her head. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. “Could it have been Earl? He was doing a lot of work on the house these past few weeks. Or maybe it was someone he hired to help him.”
“Did all the work himself. I talked to him this morning. And Earl Mough doesn’t smoke. Well… not cigarettes, anyway.”
It made her scalp crawl, the thought that someone had been watching her. “I don’t get it. Why?”
“When we know that, we’ll very likely know who.”
Fear started to give way to anger. She’d been down this path before. “That’s what they all say.” It hadn’t helped the cops solve her parents’ murder. The why had been easy. Money. But knowing that hadn’t pointed the finger at anyone. At least not yet.
Filling a Styrofoam cup, he dumped a bunch of powdered creamer into the cup and stirred it with a plastic stick. He took a sip, made a face, then took a bigger gulp. Dark circles under his eyes told her he hadn’t slept yet. “Look, I can’t prevent you from going back to the cabin but I can tell you I’d sleep a lot better if you didn’t. Just until we solve this thing.”
“When will that be?”
He scrubbed his hair with thick fingers. Cop fingers. “I don’t know. But soon.”
“So you have a lead? A suspect?”
He snorted. “I’ve got a dozen suspects. None of whom I’m going to discuss with you.” He downed some more coffee. “Now, if there’s nothing else I can do for you, I’d like to get back to work.”
She frowned, crossed her arms in front of her, but her attitude didn’t move him. “Fine. Any news on my shop?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. “I don’t guess there’s anything else we can do in there that hasn’t already been done twice. Fine. Go ahead. But I’m warning you. You find anything, a hair, a fingernail, a molecule that looks funny to you, you tell me immediately. You got that?”
She was getting tired of this speech. “Yes. I’ve got it. And thank you.” Somehow it hadn’t come out sounding very grateful. She tried again. “Really. Thank you.”
“You’ll be staying at the inn, rght?”
It went against her natural inclinations. But the thought of spending the night, out there in the woods, with someone lurking in the darkness scared the hell out of her. “Yes. I’ll run over there this afternoon, pack up some stuff, then see if Arabella will put up with me for a few days.”
“Or more.”
“Or more,” she agreed. “I suppose you wouldn’t do it if I asked you to keep me posted.”
“If there’s something I think you should know, I’ll tell you.”
It was about all she could ask for, although it stank. “Get some sleep, Chief.”
He raised his Styrofoam cup at her. “Don’t need sleep. I’ve got this.”
Shaking her head, she headed out of his office, determined that once she got her shop up and running, she’d teach him what real coffee was supposed to taste like.
She nearly skipped down the stone steps of the Police Station, the happiest she’d been since she’d arrived in town. Finally, the shop was hers. And she could start getting ready for her grand opening. She even had her baker problem solved.
Going through her list of things to do in her head, she decided first things first, she needed to go home and get her day planner and the master to do list it contained. She was almost positive her ‘grand opening’ banners were supposed to arrive tomorrow morning and if she could get Marg to stay at the shop to supervise that delivery she could run into Madison to pick up any last minute supplies she thought she might need.
Which reminded her that she wanted to call Marg and get her to come to the shop that afternoon, to go over the preliminary menu. Which meant she’d need to call Arabella to even get Marg’s phone number – although Marg was probably still at the Inn so—
She pulled up short, both mentally and physically, as she realized someone was waiting for her at her car.
Louisa Cullen stood, hands on her hips in front of the driver’s door. “What the hell are you doing? Why are you following me?” Her head jutted out like an angry chicken.
“I’m not following you.”
“Yes! You are.” She poked Ellie in the chest with a black-painted finger nail. “You followed me to Todd’s. You took some nasty pictures, and then you had the nerve to go blabbing about it to that Kemp bitch. Now Todd’s all freaked out that someone’s going to call the school board, and my sister’s all over my case about it and threatening to kick me out of the house.”
Ellie took a careful step back. “Look I really didn’t take any—”
“Shut up! It’s bad enough Dad basically gave the diner away to you. And then the cabin. Both of which should have been mine! Now you’ve got the nerve to come here and try to ruin people’s lives. God! I wish you’d just die.” She gave Ellie a shove, and Ellie staggered backward. Before she could regain her balance, the girl’s foot shot out and caught the back of her ankle. Ellie toppled onto her backside on the asphalt.
Louisa stood over her. “You stay the hell out of my life! In fact, it might be better for everybody,” and she jabbed a finger at Ellie “if you and your sneaky little peeping habits cleared the hell out of town. If you don’t, bad things are going to happen. Got that, bitch?”
Louisa raised a booted foot and Ellie rolled quickly out of the way, afraid the girl was going to kick her. With a nasty laugh, Louis
a threw something at her and stalked away, as Ellie scrambled to her feet.
By the time she’d regained her footing, Bill Gruetzmacher was jogging out of the building toward her.
“What the hell was that all about?”
Ellie brushed herself off, trying to regain some of her dignity. Not wanting to tell Gruetzmacher about following Louisa, she said, “Just a little disagreement. I had no idea Artie had promised the diner and the cabin to his daughters. Or, one daughter, anyway. Apparently, his selling to me caused some resentment.”
“Are you okay?”
“Nothing wounded but my pride.”
He glanced down at the torn pieces of paper that Louisa had tossed at Ellie. “What’s that?”
Ellie swooped down and scooped up the bits quickly. “Just an old photo or something. I’ll just throw it away.”
Gruetzmacher stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. “Do you want to press charges? It was assault. And a wake-up call might do her some good.”
Ellie considered it. Then imagined what her new friends would think about that. She wasn’t in Chicago anymore. “No. But thanks.”
Gruetzmacher frowned. “The judge would probably let her off, given the death of her father and the state she’s in.”
“No, really. I’m okay.”
He shrugged. “Your choice. But you watch your step. That girl is nothing but trouble. You tell me if she gives you anymore. Okay?”
For once, Ellie agreed readily. “You’ll be the first to know. Thanks for coming to my rescue.”
“S’what we’re here for, ma’am.” Tipping his hat with a grin, he sauntered back into the building, leaving Ellie clutching the bits of photo, her heart still hammering in her chest.
The cabin held no menace in the bright light of a mild late spring afternoon. Sitting at her little kitchen table, she spread the pieces of the photograph out in front of her and pieced them together.
It wasn’t high art and looked like it had probably taken on a digital camera or a cell phone and printed on one of those home photo printers. Whoever had taken it must have had shaking hands, because it was blurry, but the explicit image it portrayed was clear enough to identify not only the naked couple on the bed, but exactly what they were doing as well.
The bigger issue, Ellie thought, was the identity of the photographer. She thought back to that afternoon, and to what she’d thought had been a vision of Artie standing in the shadows of the trees at the side of the house. Maybe it had been a real person she’d seen flipping through the pages of a book. A Bible even. And maybe they were the one who’d taken the photo.
But who was the photographer? She’d been sure at the time it had been a man, mostly because she’d convinced herself it was Artie, but it could have been a woman.
Another question was why. Who was being spied on, Louisa or Todd? If it was Louisa, why would anyone want to expose her as heterosexual? The alternative was Todd. And the only reason Ellie could think of to spy on him was that someone wanted to expose the High school English teacher as sexually prolific...and with a woman quite a few years younger.
In the city, that wouldn’t have made a difference as long as both people were of age, but maybe here in a small town, where social mores were different, this was a big deal. Maybe even blackmail big.
Maybe Louisa even set up the photo herself in an attempt to extort money from Todd. But that didn’t make sense either, or she wouldn’t have accused Ellie of taking the picture… unless it was to deflect guilt away from herself.
It was too complicated. All she really knew was that Gruetzmacher was right. Louisa was trouble no matter how you sliced it.
She turned the photo upside down, not really wanting to look at it. She got up from the table, leaving the picture there. Fetching her day planner and a handful of other items that she thought she would need then headed back out. While the cabin seemed innocuous during the day, she still didn’t relish spending the night alone there. Especially after her encounter with Louisa. She wondered if maybe it was Louisa who was spying on her -- and who killed Per’s llama.
She’d spend time puzzling over that later. Right now she had a shop to get ready. The pastries and other treats that she’d paid a bundle for were due to arrive on Friday. She couldn’t afford to have all that go to waste, so getting the shop opened on time was paramount. Not to mention that this coming weekend was the beginning weekend of Cheesefest. No, she had to be open by then. Everything else in life would just have to wait for her attention.
She told Marg to meet her at the shop as soon as she could get there, thinking she’d have a couple of hours to take stock of things, and start the cleaning process. Marg surprised her, turning up only a half hour after Ellie got there herself.
The older woman took a look around at the mess the police had left behind and slowly shook her head. “Where’re your cleaning supplies?”
“In the storeroom. Here, let me show you around.”
“Time for the grand tour later. Right now, let’s divvy up the cleaning chores.”
Ellie stood with her hands on her hips, staring around forlornly. It had been so pristine and beautiful when she’d been here the previous weekend. Now it was just a mess. And in addition there was a horrible odor, which meant they’d need to air the place out in addition to cleaning up after the crime scene techs. “I hadn’t actually planned on cleaning today. But you’re right, we should get that taken care of first. The planning and the menu stuff can wait.”
Marg followed her to the store room and loaded herself up with cleaning supplies. “Right then. I’ll take the kitchen, shall I? It’ll be my responsibility after all, and despite what you may have heard from Arabella, who doesn’t understand that baking is an art, I keep a meticulous kitchen.” And then she grinned. “Between bouts of creative chaos, that is.”
The kitchen. Ellie shuddered involuntarily. “You know that’s where Artie…”
“I know. Another reason I should probably take that room.”
It didn’t feel right, abdicating that task to someone else, but at the same time, Ellie had no great desire to go in there again. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I’m not squeamish. You get to work out here.”
Ellie nodded then felt obligated somehow to follow Marg in through the swinging door to the kitchen. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find. Maybe Artie’s body, even though she knew from firsthand experience that it was gone. What she didn’t expect, however, was to find a completely different kind of nightmare.
She and Marg stood there in the doorway, both in shock. A muddy brown substance was smeared and glopped on every available surface, vertical and horizontal. Feces. Maybe human, but judging by the amount of it, probably manure. Cow manure. So that’s what the smell was. It had been pungent before entering the kitchen, but now the smell was overpowering.
Marg backed out into the front room first, pulling Ellie after her, left arm crooked over her nose and mouth. “Oh, God!” she said into her sleeve. “What happened in there?”
They both staggered to the front door and flung it open, tumbling out onto the sidewalk in an effort to get fresh air.
Ellie leaned back against the plate glass window and looked heavenward. “Not what, Marg. Who. And I’ll bet you everything I own that who is Louisa Cullen.”
Chapter 23
Bill Gruetzmacher pulled up in his 4x4 a brief ten minutes after Marg phoned him. Sam Klein hopped out of the other side of the vehicle and Gruetzmacher sent him inside while he stayed out front with Ellie and Marg.
He pushed his hat up with the end of his ball point pen then flipped to a clean page in his notebook. “I’m gonna have to get a notebook just for you, this keeps up.”
Ellie felt weak in the knees and sick to her stomach. “I can’t win. I finally get permission to go in and start getting ready and now this. We’ll never get it cleaned up in time. The health inspector… Oh, sweet Goddess.” The fingers of her right hand moved automatically to the o
pal dangling from her grandmother’s earrings. What would Grams have done? The answer came immediately. Straighten up and carry on, head held high. Ellie sagged instead. She didn’t think she could do it anymore. She’d been doing it for over a year and she was so very tired.
Marg put a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry. We’ll do it. You just wait and see.”
Ellie sank down onto the pavement, put her head in her hands. It had seemed such a simple thing. Open a little coffee shop in a quiet little town, make people happy by serving a quality drink at a fair price. Throw in some muffins and scones. It was supposed to be so simple.
“I should go back to Chicago. I wonder if Jeff would give me my job back.”
Gruetzmacher reached a hand down. “Thought you were made of tougher stuff, Ms. Gooden.”
She looked up at him, saw herself as he must be seeing her, a sad, pathetic, defeated wretch. Finally, the anger burned through – helped along perhaps by the spirit of Rebecca Buchanan. She grabbed his hand. “I am. Damn it, I am.”
She let him pull her to her feet, took a deep breath. The Goddess had more in store for her than failure. “Sorry.”
He gave her an encouraging smile. “We all have those moments. Now, you gals want to tell me what happened?”
Marg jumped right in. “We came over here to start getting the place cleaned up. I offered to take the kitchen. When we opened the swinging door, we saw… well, a bunch of shit. Shit everywhere. On everything. On the walls, the floor, the countertops. Smeared everywhere. Some asshole completely trashed the place.”
Gruetzmacher took off his hat and ran his sleeve across his forehead. “Shit? You mean like manure?”
“Cow manure. Pig manure. Not sure which.”
Ellie nodded. “I wouldn’t know one from the other, but from the sheer volume, I’d say it has to be animal in origin.”